Kat & Marty

Vast is the one word I can think of that sums up Alaska. Flying in over literally hundreds of mountains with glaciers pouring down into the cold looking oceans, I couldn't help feeling a little trepidous about the days ahead where we would be backpacking into the Alaskan back country with no trail, only a topo (topographical) map and compass to find our way with.

Anchorage at midnight was hot and sunny. We caught a free shuttle to our overpriced Days Inn motel room where we listened to people helping themselves from the ice machine by our door all night long. In the morning after showers Marty booked us a room in a hostel (Anchorage Guesthouse) run by a bit of a character named Andy. Andy had travelled in New Zealand and released a CD called Queenstown.

After booking our room we went to a local supermarket and stocked up on hiking food for our trip into Denali National Park. It took all morning to shop and sort out our packs and get to the hostel. We hired bikes there and rode for 3 hours along a coastal trail out of town. It was beautiful biking through sunlit woods with occasional glimpses of the mudflats and ocean below. The mudflats are notorious for sucking people knee to waist deep then holding them tight to drown in the tides. The solution has been for a rescue helicopter to fly in, drop a platform over your head and use an aircompressor to break the suction and get you out. Fortunately Marty and didn't have to experience this one in person.

On returning our bikes we found out the woods were packed full of moose. I was disappointed not to have seen any. This disappointment was soon alleviated by a restaurant bar name Humpys we were directed to for dinner. We ordered halibut (a huge flounder type fish) and chips. They were the best fish and chips I have ever had in my life!

The following morning we were up early to catch a 6:45 bus up to Denali. Our driver was friendly and kept up a flow of information on the surrounding countryside despite low cloud and no views. He mentioned it was a shame he couldn't point out the Indian snow to us. Everyone looked around in puzzlement until someone finally asked him - "and Indian snow would be...?" The answer: Apache here and Apache there. I'm sure your groan is as big as ours was. The only other point of note on that ride was the glimpse of a moose standing on the edge of a clearing in the distance.

On reaching Denali at midday we went straight to the WAC (Wilderness Access Center) to book our back country permits which are given out on a first in first served basis. The park is split into sections and only a certain loading is allowed on any given section per night. Someone was in the first section we wanted to enter so we had to reverse our walk. In hindsight I am glad we did it the backwards way as I feel it would have been a lot harder the right way. We were given bear proof containers to store all our food and anything scented including all hygiene products like toothpaste. They were huge black plastic barrels that lock down on one end and weigh a ton! The theory is to store the food in these barrels at least 100m from our tent, then actually cook our food 100m in a different direction again, so bears never associate the barrels with food or with tents, or food with tents. After repacking all our food and rearranging our packs to fit the barrels in, we sat around eating fatty, high-energy junk food until a bus came to drop us in to the start of our hike at Eilson.

The bus ride in was made magical partly by views of Canadian wildlife and partly by the sheer size of the land features we were looking at. The first animal we saw was an Arctic Snowshoe Hare, next, slightly more interesting a caribou with big antlers. As the first hikers were dropped off, the bus went a little quiet and the atmosphere seemed to thicken as a bear sighting was reported over the bus radio. The bear was at the stop before ours, Stoney River, the stop our bus seat neighbours were being dropped at. I was so glad it wasn't at our stop and though it seems ridiculous now, I started having visions of prowling bears waiting at the bus door while we were kicked off at Eilson. The scenery was overwhelmingly intense. It was beautiful but more in a spritual, ethereal way than anything I have ever seen before. Rather than the imposing heights of the Himalayas, it was vast rolling plateaus leading into huge U shaped glacial valleys fed by deeper V shaped river formed valleys. Rather than high, the mountains just looked big. It was SCENERY. All I could do was hold onto Marty's arm and breath deeply and comment 'this is amazing'.  

More and more hikers got dropped off and we were drawing closer to Eilson when we saw a bear with two cubs grazing on the short grasses and roots that grow on the Arctic Tundra, then coming over a rise as we drove on, was another mother bear with slightly older cubs. Bears are huge! They are so much bigger and more intimidating than I had ever imagined. If they don't see you or aren't interested in you there aren't any problems, however, they are unpredictable and once cubs are involved the mothers won't think twice about going for you. We had rehearsed what to do in case of a confrontation, but I was praying we wouldn't have one. For that moment I was very glad to have the protection of the bus. We drove past the Toklat River stop where we would walk out to then went on past an exclusion zone. This is a designated area that is closed due to wildlife activity like nesting. This exclusion zone was due to wolf cubs being born recently. To my great delight the entire family - two adults and about 3 or 4 cubs were out playing in a clearing clearly visible from our bus windows on the road. The driver was impressed we got a viewing - it sounded like a rare event.

Finally just after driving into a rain cloud at 8pm, it was time to get off. A moment after the bus drove off I realised I had left our gaiters on the bus. I was devastated, particularly as in the first few minutes we were plunging through waist high scrub calling out as loud as we could for any hiding bears to run away. The soaking rain meant we were soon wet through, but walking kept us warm. I was extremely thankful for the long hours of daylight as it was 10:30pm before we found a possible campsite out of view of the road as the park rules decreed. Our position was behind a small rise on a hilltop terrace which possibly wasn't out of view from the road at all, but at that point we were too wet and tired to care. It was on a bit of a slope but we didn't think that would matter too much. We walked our food barrels back the requisite 100m and opened a pasta meal to cook up. Cooking away from your tent in warm weather is well and good but in the rain is not so fun. In future perhaps an extra tarp would be in order to set up a shelter. Standing still meant we were getting colder and by the time the pasta was half cooked I was shivering uncontrollably so we decided to eat it how it was and get the meal over with. It was revolting! Each mouthful nearly had me dry retching it was so bad and the more rain fell into it the worse it tasted. We were in a bit of a predicament as we had no room left in the bear proof containers to store it, we couldn't throw it on the ground or bury it as it is important bears don't gain access to (or a taste for) human food. Marty was a champion. He told me to go and get into bed and he would finish it off. Standing there in the pouring rain, with every mouthful he told himself, "This will be funny in a week, in a week I will be laughing at this." He took one for the team.

Meanwhile I had my new down jacket on and crawled into our new sleeping bags in our new tent and discovered that the slope was a bit more of a problem than first thought. Due to the slippery fabric of our sleeping bags, they slid down the bed mats. Once Marty joined me the problem grew worse, and instead of sleeping like we were standing up, we slept in a collapsed huddle at the bottom of the tent.

In the morning it was still raining. Marty and I pretended to be asleep in the hope it would stop soon, but eventually we could ignore it no longer and forced ourselves into wet clothes and out into the elements. This time it was Marty who got too cold. After breaking camp we considered throwing in the towel and taking a bus back out, but it seemed a bit of a cop out so we decided to give it half an hour and if things hadn't improved we would reconsider again.

We had carefully chosen which river valley to walk up the night before, matching it to our topo map. The only thing that didn't quite match up was what appeared to be a small lake or pond next to the river. Since the map was dated 1952 we figured the changing course of the river must have swallowed it. We walked up our river full of confidence as we got warmer and the rain lightened. The valley grew steeper and steeper until the river ahead disappeared up into seemingly impassable rocks. The route we were taking was graded as difficult, but I was beginning to think this was taking things a bit far as we had to climb up an extremely steep scree bluff/slope to gain a ridge to carry us past the rocks. We got to the top of the ridge and all became clear. The correct valley was laid out in all it's glory, small lake intact, on a much larger scale than anything we had imagined. We dropped down and found the going a lot easier with good views over the tundra and no bears in sight. When we got to a fork in the river, we turned up the Sunset River valley with much more confidence, until this river valley too began to grow steep and wild. I took my pack off and climbed a nearby ridge for a more aerial view and discovered a much more likely valley one over. On looking at the map it was clear, we had once again been sucked up a smaller river valley that fed the one we were to follow.

After a much nicer lunch than dinner the night before, of walnut and raison porridge (or oatmeal as it is called here), we finally ascended the correct valley. We had a choice of walking over bluffs or staying on the valley floor and facing multiple river crossings. Whoever would have thought multiple river crossings meant about 25 in total! The water was glacially fed and gained strength with snow melt as the day progressed. As we were now into the mid afternoon teh river was in full fury. By the 11th river crossing my feet were frozen and bruised by the river stones my gaiters would have protected me from. There was nothing for it but to sit down and have a good cry. We emptied our boots and continued on, sure at least we were in the right place as snowy mountains loomed ahead. At one point Marty pointed to the left and there was a lone Grizzly grazing up on a grassy terrace. We silently tiptoed past and it never even noticed we were there. A little later, Marty saw a small animal disappear into a gully. He was worried it was a bear cub and we spent a while looking out for the mother. Later in a souveneir bookshop, we found the animal he had seen - a wolverine.

At last we reached the glacier that marked where to cross our pass into the Toklat River valley. On the map it looked simple. Follow the glacier in a straight line, then when it makes a dramatic turn to the right we turn 90 degrees to the left. We walk in a straight line over the pass to another glacier which we follow down until we find a nice flat campsite where we sleep the midnight sun happily away.

We followed the first part of the glacier and followed the natural progression over moving glacial mud and rocks to the center of an enormous glacial bowl. I picked out what I thought was our pass. It seemed too far away though. We sat and studied our map, then picked a position closer to the other side where we could view another valley that also looked likely. It took almost an hour to get across and we were both feeling quite tired, but it was no time to stop with time quickly passing, so we went with my first choice. I was terrified I had it wrong it again and as we grew closer to the saddle I was praying so hard we were on the right track. The sensation of relief was overwhelming when we made the pass and found we did have it right. I was ecstatic for the two minutes it took me to register what we now had to walk down. Steep scree showed between tounges of snow and glaciated terrain. Our book told us this pass was a tempting place to camp as the views were superb. All but the valley we were to walk down was clouded over and the stoney terrain did not look like an inviting bed. The way down looked clear and we picked the route we would take to the glacier valley entrance where there should be grassy places to set up our tent.

Marty was the heroe and took the lead down the edge of a snow chute. Once past the initial section I didn't find the walking too bad. Once we got a lot lower we got caught in some ravines where the earth went up and down in loose slippery earth piles. To our right the glacier carved out sections of hillside and there were some large crevasses opened up. Some seemed to be caused by a river that wound it's way through the morraine. At last Marty found a way across a small lick of snow to a more plateaued gravel spit that carried us right down to the valley entrance. The walking was much easier here and the view fantastic, but weariness began to creep in. At 10:00pm we finally came to the first comfortable camping area. It was gorgeous. A small terrace of grass with a fairy ring sat tucked up against a hillside. A small clear water stream ran past providing drinking water and we were able to have a clear view down the valley. On our map we discovered we had almost walked out. At the most we were 5 hours hike from the road and our pick-up. This gave us the confidence to sleep in the next morning. We lay around and played yahtzee and dozed. At one point I went out for a breath of fresh air and a fat little animal with a bushy tail ran or to be more precise, waddled away quickly, squealing as it went. It disappeared up a scree slope making me laugh with it's squeaks. At least I started laughing once I realised it wasn't a bear cub with an angry mother right behind it. On later pictures I recognised it as a hoary marmot.

At 1:30 Marty suggested a walk to look around the corner bluff and make sure our road was in sight, walking no more than an hour we would then return to camp. We walked for an hour and a half, at times scrambling over bluffs or scaling rocky cliffs to bypass the river but the road still wasn't in sight. We kind of paniced after our blunders into the wrong valley the day before, but there was no way we could be wrong this time. I found some old people footprints that also convinced me we were where we thought we were. However, we decided we needed to pack up camp and move closer to our ride out, so returning to our tent which was now flapping in a strong wind tunnel coming from the valley behind we broke camp, ate pasta (delicous this time) and made our way lower down the valley.

Our walk now took us down past the wolf exclusion zone. We could see caribou prints in the river mud. I think it was in trouble as wolf paw prints stalked it the whole way down. We never did see a carcass to my relief. When it got to 8pm we stopped and made camp on the river shingle. Green turf lay invitingly to the east but it was out of bounds. I was so tired I slept long and deeply but the stones made a hard mattress and Marty lay awake long into the sunlit night.

The morning arrived with Marty's watch beeping. We got up and broke camp in record time eating muesli bars for a hurried breakfast. We walked hard for two hours still not seeing the road but making up the idea of seeing a bridge in the far distance. Marty suddenly saw a yellow blob he thought might be the ranger station we were heading for. In minutes we saw a tour bus cutting a line through a nearby hillside and we knew we were home and dry. As we made it to the road embankment, the first bus that could pick us up, of the day went by. We flagged it down and took a seat amongst a group of other weary hikers who were on their way out of the park. The wilderness suddenly became distant again as we were absorbed back into the human world where we had to politely converse with the other hikers, then face the madness of the crowds at the park entrance.

At 2pm we got onto the Grand Alaskan Railway, taking a train up to Fairbanks. We thought we were arriving at 6:30 with plenty of time to get accomodation and book a train trip up to the Arctic Circle the next day, but the train ran late and it was past 9pm when we pulled into the station. The station was remote and after 20 minutes all other passengers and the taxis had all disappeared. Every place we called for a room were booked out, even the cheapest most dire places to stay. We were down to our last quarter, so Marty did the wise thing and called a taxi with it. While we waited a rail worker came out to make sure we were ok. He recommended a place for us to eat - the Food Factory. It was a diner with a menu that reminded me of Fast Eddies in Perth but much cheaper. We shared popcorn shrimp and a sliced steak roll with watery beer. The kind waitress let me make calls on their phone to a list of vacancies given us by the kind rail worker. Each place was full until the last, the Arctic Oases, a B&B out of town. I took it.

We had arranged to meet the manager of the Arctic Oases at 10:45pm. Our taxi dropped us off to a locked house in a very quiet deserted street. Half an hour later the manageress turned up. She had stopped for fuel and was apologetic. We were just relieved we could go in to a bed. She showed us around and offered us coffee but we were shattered. She told us she would need to potter about to make breakfast the next day but there was a noise diffuser that should muffle the sounds. An hour later after showers and spreading our gear to dry and air she was still moving around. We couldn't imagine what she was doing and Marty eventually went out and asked her to be a bit quieter. In the morning we got up for the 'light breakfast' and discovered what the fuss had been about. We were served the most amazing breakfast. Fruit and yoghurt and muffins with coffee. Potato hash pies - huge - served in medium sized casarole dishes and a breakfast casarole which was like a quiche with beef mince on it and orange juice too. After we ate till we couldn't move and our kind hostess was satisfied we were replete we went back to our room with the phone and attempted to get on an Arctic Circle day tour. It was now 10:00am and all the buses departed at 6:30am so we had well and truly missed our window of opportunity. Marty made lots of calls and eventually we decided it would be worth the symbolism of standing in the Arctic Circle to make the financial sacrifice and fly up. This meant we also had to fly back down to Anchorage rather than bus to make our Vancouver flight. When that was all set up we took a taxi back in town to the Go North Hostel where we set up our tent. We wandered around downtown Fairbanks after a relaxing afternoon and visited the Pioneer Park. This was a group of wooden log cabins that were converted into tourist shops and muesems. After looking our fill we went back to the hostel and cooked up dinner - pasta left over from our hiking trip in Denali...

A kind lady gave us a ride down to the movies and we watch Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Man's Chest. Despite the sticky concrete floors and decrepid nature of Fairbanks one and only movie theatre, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. There is nothing like a grand adventure set on the high seas... I think Marty felt disappointed the movie ended as a cliff hanger setting itself up for another sequel, but I am glad we haven't yet reached the end of the tale.

The morning didn't dawn so much as we just woke up. We had a relaxed breakfast and sat around on a sun deck talking to other hostellers about their travels around the place. Our flight to the Arctic Circle left at 1pm so we eventually made our way down to the address of the charter company we were flying with. Apart from one 12 year old girl, we were by far the youngest on the plane trip and I felt a bit unsure we were doing the right thing. Perhaps we should wait another 40 years.

The plane was a 12 seater with one seat in the cockpit. As with all small planes the ride up was a bit bumpy. The poor lady sitting behind Marty became quite ill. Beneath us hills covered in pink fireweed rolled out and we gained our first view of the Alaskan Pipeline. It really is just a pipeline. It is hard to describe the view, hundreds of lakes, winding rivers, spruce forests, hills, mountains, the Yukon River, occasional glimpses of the highway and the pipeline. Mostly, nothing but wilderness. A taxi driver's words came back to me: It is God's own country up here, some days the clouds are just so white and fluffy you could just reach your arms out and hug them.

As we landed at Coldfoot. I saw a wolverine scurry up an embankment and disappear into some low scrub. We were directed straight off the plane onto a shuttle bus where we were driven 16 miles north to a subsistence village of 12 or 13 people called Wiseman to meet a mysterious man called Jack. Coldfoot was a goldmining town that received it's name when winter fell and lots of goldminers left for warmer parts. The ones who stayed said the leavers must have got cold feet. A little later gold was found a little further north so I guess the wise men just went that way to settle.

Jack was what made this journey into the Arctic Circle worth every penny we spent. He must have been in his late 40s and was a local legend. He spoke for 2 hours solid on the area answering all sorts of random questions and gave us a tour around his house. On arriving there the first thing that struck one was the rows of wolf skulls lined up on his outer wall. Next were the neat rows of vegetables and the wind turbine that generated power for Jack's computer. Entering his house, celery leaves and mushrooms were drying over his fire and the room was dominated by a mounted grizzly head he had shot on his first hunt at the age of 12 and a stuffed dall sheep head of which I never found out the story. Every other service was covered in pictures, books, pieces of art and useful implements. Solar lights were mounted on the ceiling and shaded with cut off paper bags. On our way out there were a row of all the furs Jack trapped, wolf, wolverine, marmot, and many others I can't remember now. Outside was a type of totem pole constructed of moose antlers. Jack walked us back down to the musem talking about the flora, fauna and gold of the area. It really was a treat to listen to someone who knew their subject so well. On our ride back to the plane Marty jokingly warned me not to elope. He is safe this time as Jack is married - our shuttle driver let us in on that one.

The flight back to Fairbanks was smoother so more enjoyable. We didn't see anymore wildlife but enjoyed the wild splendour of the land unfurling before us. On landing back at Fairbanks we were awarded Arctic Circle certificates then given a ride to the airport where we caught our flight back down to Anchorage. We took a taxi back to Andy's Anchorage Guesthouse. He had to chase a friend out of the room we had booked but did so with good grace. We borrowed some bikes and rode down to Humpys for a final farewell to Alaska for this time around. The best fish and chips ever had to be a fitting end to such an epic adventure. We arrived at the door to Humpys hungry and ready to eat. The bouncer stopped us and asked for ID. Marty and I just looked at each other completely crestfallen. Unfortunately we had left it back at the hostel. There was no option but to bike all the way back. By this time it was 10:30pm so we called it a day. We chatted to another hosteller then fell asleep to the sound of Andy's dog barking.

The morning arrived too quickly. Our bags were packed so we walked down to the bus stop to catch a ride out to the airport. On the way a lovely lady stopped us and asked us if we would like a ride anywhere. She used to backpack around and felt empathetic. We were almost at our stop so we declined - or at least Marty did, I would have snapped up the offer. We sat down to wait for the bus when the friend Andy had cleared out of our room stopped and offered us a ride. This time we took the offer up. He was a manager of a remote lodge out on an island and was interesting to talk to so our ride went quickly.

The Anchorage airport is a nice place to hang out. After getting our boarding passes and going through security we sat down at a restaurant called chillies and ate delicous nachos. Next stop Vancouver!

PS Marty is working hard on developing a site for our photos which will be linked in the next week or two. Thanks for reading and for your comments.