Wrapping Up 2011 – Mesa, Arizona

On December 1 we went into hibernation for the winter at a new-to-us RV resort in Mesa.  We selected it based on an activity roster that promised to keep us on our toes but thus far we haven’t participated in much.  Our time has been eaten up with doctor, dentist and RV tech appointments.  Not to mention a roaring case of terminal inertia.

The “resort” has dinner dances on Tuesday evenings and we’ve attended several of those.  Generally the music has been pretty danceable and we’re looking forward to more opportunities to “cut a rug” as the season progresses.  The meals are of the stick-to-your-ribs (thighs, butt, etc.) sort.  My palate never learned to think of gravy as a food group but here it’s the base upon which the food pyramid is built.

We’ve yet to meet many of our neighbors (many won’t arrive until after the holidays) but we’ve bumped into many old friends and acquaintances while trolling through the grocery stores.  It never ceases to amaze us that we run  into more folks we know here  than we ever did back East, living in the same place for years.  Russ and Rochelle are here at the same resort and so we’ve spent time socializing with them.  We ladies have taken several beading classes together and the guys have been fooling with computers, Russ having taken the giant plunge into the world of bits and bytes.  Next the guys need to get organized enough to start biking again.  Knees permitting, I’d like to give pickleball a try.  Or maybe lawn bowling.

The weather hasn’t been what we’ve come to expect of The Valley of the Sun.  Our arrival was greeted with a few days of heavy rain and it has been on the chilly side ever since.  The space heater runs nearly full time and we are not eager to see the first month’s electric bill!  

Over the years we’ve settled into a Christmas routine that does not involved exchanging gifts with each other but usually results in the purchase of some major gift to our domicile.  This year was no exception…the coach got a new toilet.  And will soon be getting new seals for the slides, along with other assorted bits and pieces to make it whole again.  We’re all starting to show our age.

One sunny Sunday afternoon we went off to Tempe to scope out The Festival of the Arts.  Finding a parking spot was quite an adventure…I don’t know who reaps the benefits of the exorbitant parking fees but it must keep some civic budget balanced for the year!  Most spots were $10 but we found one for $5 several blocks from the main festival site.  It’s an enormous festival and we noticed than many of the exhibitors had come quite a distance to participate.  It’s always fun to see the creativity expressed at such shows…who knew you could do so many things with old hardware?

One of the biggest reasons we keep coming back to the East Valley every winter is to partake of the cheap produce.  In summer months we often find ourselves in areas where the growing season is short and grocery costs high so we do enjoy the opportunity here in Arizona to have fresh melon, pineapple, bell peppers and whatever other fruits and veggies catch our eye.  And at prices that won’t break the bank.

We hope you all had a wonderful Christmas (or whatever other holiday you might celebrate) and we send along our best wishes for a happy, healthy and peaceful New Year.

Coachella Valley, Etc. – November, 2011

We spent a little over two weeks in the Coachella Valley, first in Desert Hot Springs and then in Indio.  Because we’ve done a fairly thorough job of seeing all the sights in the area this time we mostly paid visits to the shopping emporia all along that glittering strip from Palm Springs to Indio.  We even made the drive further west to the outlet mall in Cabazon and were delighted to see almost all of the retail spaces were open for business and the parking lot quite full for a weekday. 

The small cities that stretch along I-10 from Palm Springs in the west to Indio in the east all run together as one.  There are many attractive residential areas where the famous and near-famous live (or lived).  Heavy applications of water keep the lawns green and the flowers blooming; you can’t help but wonder what happens if the water runs out.  The nearby mountains are sometimes difficult to see thanks to blankets of smog rolling eastward from Los Angeles.  During our entire stay my eyes burned and I did a lot of coughing and sneezing.

Roger and Cathy drove up from their winter quarters in Niland to have lunch with us one day.  It was great to see them again and spend some time catching up on all the chit-chat from when we saw them last in early spring.  If the timing is right, we may catch up with them again in March.

Our next stop was Colorado River Oasis in Ehrenberg, Arizona where we found old buddies Galen and Betty Jo work-camping and other friends Jim and Pat camped at the river’s edge.  We were expecting to see Rick and Carol toward the end of our stay but they revised their travel plans and came in early for just a few days.  At least we were able to have a little visit, and some of Carol’s delicious oatmeal pie, before they headed north to Lake Havasu.  They’ll be back but long after we’ve flown the coop.

As part of their work schedule at CRO, Galen and Betty Jo have to act as activity directors or over-seers.  They’d never played Snakes and Ladders before and so we dug out the rules and the equipment and set about “teaching” them the game.  One set of rules was particularly appealing….verbal abuse of opponents is encouraged and we’re all good at that. 

Another day we drove north along the river to Parker, stopping in Poston along the way to visit the memorial dedicated to the 17,000+ first and second-generation Americans of Japanese descent incarcerated there following the attack on Pearl Harbor.  The protrusion at the top of the memorial is actually a spout to keep rainwater from staining the column.   The internment camp was smack in the middle of the Colorado River Indian Tribes’ reservation.  Although we couldn’t be sure, we think we found some of the old barracks still in use as housing and as part of a Head Start facility.  A '”no trespassing” sign kept us from exploring further.  We’d hope to visit the CRIT museum at tribal headquarters but it was closed for the long Thanksgiving weekend so we had to content ourselves with celebrating Black Friday at Beall’s Outlet and Wal-Mart in Parker. 

Given that most full-timers are a little on the silly side, we joined Pat and Jim at the river bank to give our “mascots” an  opportunity to enjoy the view and do a little fishin’.  Here’s Gus and Gunther trying their luck.  Good thing we weren’t counting on them to provide the fish for dinner.

 

Just before heading to Mesa to hibernate for the winter, we had a chance to have lunch with our pal, Betty, at her winter digs  in Desert Center.  She was, as usual, up to her ears in “projects”.  On the drive over we were well past Blythe before realizing we were going to be an hour early for lunch, having forgotten we’d be in a different time zone as soon as we crossed the Colorado River.  It took us no time at all (literally!) to drive the 50 miles to Desert Center but two hours to drive back!  A Senior Moment strikes again.

Paso Robles, California – October, 2011

The transition from San Juan Bautista to Paso Robles did not get off to a flying start.  First there was a bit of a snag with the kitchen slide so that we had to waste some time wrestling with it to get it to seat properly before we hit the road.  Then, no sooner had we arrived at our campground in Paso Robles, Howie realized the surge protector had been left behind at our previous campground.  A quick phone call confirmed it had been turned in to the office – they knew we’d be in touch sooner or later.  It’s a heavy little thing that would cost a fair amount to ship and just abandoning it was out of the question because they cost around $400 new; the only option was to hop in the car and make a mad dash back to San Juan Bautista.  Thankfully it was a relatively short trip of 120 miles, which gave us a total of 360 miles that day.

And that’s what put the phrase from an old John Denver song in my head…some days are like diamonds, some days are like stones.  Except I thought it was dust, not stones, until I consulted with Google on the matter.  If you’d prefer, the Dire Straits song about windshields and bugs would work, too.

We were in Paso Robles (which means Pass of the Oaks and is pronounced by those who live there more like “pass-o row bulls” instead of “pa-so row blays”) so that we could drive easily to the coast for a tour of Hearst Castle.  There are brochures still floating around listing five or six different tours of the castle when in reality there are only three to choose from in these hard financial times (not counting the moonlight tour which is offered only periodically).  Each tour costs $25 and at first I was inclined to do two tours until realizing that my knee wouldn’t hold up that long;  we decided on the Grand Rooms tour which purports to be most appropriate for the first time visitor. 

It was foggy and overcast when we left Paso Robles for the 40 mile drive to San Simeon and that was a disappointment.  But as we descended the last hill to the coast the fog dissipated and the sky turned a brilliant blue.  Tours are assembled at the visitors center at the base of the hill and folks transported to the castle on buses.  Our tour was scheduled for 12:20 but the ticket taker/bus driver indicated seats were available on the noon bus if we’d prefer.  The road is steep, twisty and narrow so the drivers get high marks for their professional driving skills.  A tape, narrated by Alex Trebec, provides the commentary for the ride and I  believe it was the narration that noted the road up the hill is five miles long.  It’s easy to understand why tourists are not allowed to drive themselves to the top…not that there’s room up there to park much more than a VW Beetle.

 

William Randolph Hearst spent 28 years and untold amounts of money to build the castle on what he always referred to as “the ranch at San Simeon”, land purchased by his father, George.  Officially the estate was called La Cuesta Encantada, or The Enchanted Hill.  At one time the ranch covered 250,000 acres but now the Hearst family foundation owns a modest 80,000 acres on which they raise black and red Angus cattle.  The castle and its contents are owned by the state of California.  Parts of the house are nowhere near finished and never will be; I’m sure it’s enough of a chore and expense just to keep the silver candlesticks polished.

 

Our tour guide led us through the large downstairs rooms, including the dining room with it’s long refectory table and priceless tapestries and the billiard room with even more  tapestries.  No matter which way your eyes wander there is some antique work of art to admire.  The history of some pieces is known, others remain a mystery but there must be a great many half-empty castles and churches in Europe thanks to Hearst’s appetite for acquisitions.  Flash photography is not permitted in the interior, but for those who would like to see more well-lit photos , many can be found on-line.  Better yet, if you have a fast broad-band internet connection, take a fantastic virtual tour.

 

Following the indoor tour we were left on our own to wander the grounds, admiring the flowers, pools and statuary.  As the day warmed up, the Neptune Pool looked ever more inviting!  The other two tours feature the upstairs room, including Hearst’s bedroom and balcony, and the three cottages where some of his more illustrious guests were housed during long weekends.

 

Until the big house was completed, Mr. Hearst (aka The Chief) and his guests resided in one of the three guest cottages which rival the main house for glitz and glamour.

 

 

 

 

Until some of his newspapers began losing money and he had to limit  expenses, Hearst had a number of exotic animals on his hilltop; some of the stone enclosures are still standing and the descendants of  the less dangerous and exotic species still roam the hills.   These zebras, grazing among the Angus, are descendants of the original herd.

 

Tourists exit to the buses through the Roman Pool, an indoor extravaganza in blue and gold.  It was not hard to imagine Johnny Weissmuller launching himself into the pool from this very board.  Hearst’s guests were what would be called today The Glitterati; movie stars, authors, sports stars and politicians, the movers and shakers of the day, so Tarzan would have fit right in, being both an Olympic gold medalist and a movie hero.

The tour ended for us with a viewing of an IMAX movie called “Building the Dream”, detailing the construction of the castle.  To me, the most interesting character to emerge from the saga was the castle’s architect, Julia Morgan, one of the first female architects and designer of many other famous buildings in California.  She was charged with the task of designing and constructing a building to house all the bits and pieces of European artifacts that Hearst kept dragging to San Simeon.  In addition to her obvious architectural skills, she must have had the patience of a saint.

Anything after visiting Hearst Castle would be anti-climactic but we enjoyed our second day in the area of Paso Robles with quick visits to the Charles Paddock Zoo in Atascadero and to the mission at San Miguel.  San Miguel Archangel is still an active parish and we were able to see the interior and admire the courtyard.   The fund drive for updates and repairs seems to have stalled and the property seems frozen in time.

To wrap up our time in the area, we took a quick stroll around downtown Paso Robles and paid a visit to the Historical Society Museum which is housed in the handsome Carnegie Library on the town square.  We were puzzled by the emphasis placed on the Polish pianist Ignacy Jan Paderewski in the museum’s collection.  The docent quickly explained that Paderewski frequently came to a nearby spa to soak his hands in the hot sulfur spring water and eventually purchased a 2000 acre ranch nearby where he grew zinfandel grapes.  The neighborhood continues to support a large number of vineyards and the downtown area boasts many tasting rooms and restaurants featuring food and wine pairings.  As it neared dinner hour, downtown smelled delicious.

It is entirely possible that Paso Robles has replaced Lodi as my favorite town in California.  But it was too expensive to linger long and so we were off to Bakersfield for an oil change on the coach and to be off the road for the weekend.  Then it was on to the Coachella Valley to blend in with all the other snowbirds.  It must be pointed out that both I-5 and I-10 could use some serious upgrades; it would be nice if the government would quit wasting money on these pie-in-the-sky projects and pave the damn roads!  It was like being on the Alaska Highway but without the pretty scenery (and with astronomically more traffic).

Gilroy, California – October, 2011

It was one of those hazy warm days as we headed south on I-5 toward Gilroy for a week’s stay in the garlic capital of the entire universe.  Part of the journey involves traveling on Highway 152, a snaky little number that goes up and down Pacheco Pass and skirts a large reservoir with some pretty curvy curves; it is a major truck route for farm produce between I-5 and U.S. 101.  At one point we were playing tag with a semi hauling two gondolas loaded with plum tomatoes and it seemed to us he was taking some of the “55 mph curves” a bit faster than the speed limit and we speculated that load of tomatoes might be headed for premature conversion to sauce.  We eventually lost track of that particular truck but we did see evidence that one of his soul mates had capsized along the way; there were skid marks at a particularly severe curve and the shoulder was covered with Roma tomatoes.  Oops.  Pass the cheese, please.

As one approaches the city of Gilroy, one becomes aware of its status as Garlic City USA.  The valley is fairly marinating in the aroma of The Stinking Rose.  Imagine how it must smell when the Garlic Festival is in full swing during the month of July.  Yum.

On our first full day in town we went off in search of the Visitors Center to gather brochures and other information of what to see and do while in the area.  We located the building without much trouble but it was locked up tight and there was a note on the door to seek information at two other businesses nearby, neither of which seemed all that prepared to guide tourists.  But we did find an interesting eggcup to add to my collection and scored a free head of Gilroy garlic. 

We’d seen a number of signs along the roadways advertising garlic ice cream so we stopped at a shop and tried some.  It was pretty darn tasty, very mild garlic taste and the ice cream itself was extra creamy and rich-tasting.  We are also planning to try cream of garlic soup soon but in the privacy of our own home.

One afternoon we headed south on 101 to San Juan Bautista to visit the mission.  We trundled around the mission grounds, gawked at the exterior and mutually decided not to broach the hordes of school children who were also touring.  The town itself is quaint and so we poked into some of the shops along the main street before heading back to the coach.

As often happens with rolling real estate, problems arise from time to time and the kitchen drain chose this particular time to malfunction.  Well, break actually and begin dripping dishwater into one of the storage bays.  A mobile RV tech confirmed the diagnosis  and arrangements were made to have it repaired in Morgan Hill on Friday morning.  We got an early start, the work went more or less the way it was supposed to and we were back in Gilroy in time for lunch.  So off we went to check out the Outlet Mall.  Unlike so many outlet malls these days, this one seemed to be very busy.  And it was there that we stumbled upon the Visitors Center that had so mysteriously disappeared from its home downtown!  We picked up a few brochures we thought might come in handy but the clerk behind the desk made no offer to assist in any way.  It’s probably good they call it a “visitors” center and not a “welcome” center.

On Saturday, October 22, we took the short drive south to Salinas, which bills itself as America’s Salad Bowl.  We left the highway near a big shopping mall that featured a Costco.  It being lunch-time we decided to drop in to see what samples they might be offering.  All sorts of good things, it turned out.  We made a few other stops and then decided to check out the historic downtown where we found some sort of street fair underway.  A sign at the Steinbeck Center announced that the Salinas Wine and Food Festival was slated for “Saturday, October 18, 2011” so we were puzzled what the event might be which was being held on Saturday, October 22.  It was the Wine and Food Festival alright; hope they didn’t pay too much for the sign which promoted the event for the previous Tuesday. 

By the time we arrived things were pretty much winding down but there was a food demonstration going on.  We arrived a bit after the participants were announced but we did quickly get up to speed that they were preparing sardine quesadillas with aioli sauce.  The chef with the sharp knife made boning and filleting a sardine look easy but we won’t be preparing this dish anytime soon.  Not that it wasn’t tasty but I’m not allowed to have sharp knives.

Being so close to the Monterey Peninsula, we took the opportunity to make the 40 mile drive to pay a visit to the highly touted Monterey Bay Aquarium, which is housed in a converted sardine factory on Cannery Row.  We’ve visited a goodly number of zoos and aquariums and found this one good but over-priced and quite a distance from being “the best”.  Sea otters figure prominently in most of the advertising for the facility so it was a disappointment to discover they have only two on display; both seemed more interested in grooming between their toes than frolicking about in the water so we quickly lost interest in that exhibit!

The aquarium features a new million gallon tank called The Open Ocean wherein reside a young Great White shark (who was released into the wild the very next day), hammerhead sharks and tunas.  At feeding time, a large school of sardines swirled up out of nowhere like a silver-plated tornado.  Traveling in such a tight formation is what prevents them from being picked off as appetizers for some of the larger fish.  We did notice that one tuna, however, was smacking his lips over a tasty tidbit he snatched from the edges of the vortex.   Another  interesting fish was a very large, very square fellow called an ocean sunfish.  The announcer informed us that the food has to be all but put directly into the sunfish’s mouth because he’s so slow and cumbersome that he’d lose out to the faster smaller fish if he didn’t get additional help from the staff.  He has the turning ratio of an aircraft carrier and is not much fun to watch.

The display of seahorses is delightful.  The ones that look like miniature dragons draped in ferns are among my favorites; they look exactly like floating pieces of seaweed.  And the large tanks of jellyfish were mesmerizing – stand there long enough and you can just zone out.  It’s an excellent relaxation technique.

 

We also took a quick stroll along Cannery Row with its souvenir shops and restaurants then drove to Pacific Grove for a walk down the main drag, traveling in and out of expensive antique shops. 

While on the way back to camp, we veered off to follow the signs to “historic downtown Monterey” where we came upon the city’s Colton Hall Museum.  Not only was it open on a Monday but it was staffed by a delightful woman who told us about the building’s early history.  In 1849 Colton Hall was the site of the Constitutional Convention that made California a state.  San Jose was selected as the first capital and remained so until 1851, followed by quick stops at Vallejo and Benicia before landing in Sacramento.

Our southward journey resumes so tune in again soon for more reports from along El Camino Real.

Wandering Southward – October, 2011

After leaving the Oregon Coast, we made a quick stop in Eugene to get new tires for the coach.  Seven years is about the life expectancy for RV tires and the rough Alaska roads probably didn’t do much to prolong their life. 

We stopped for a few days in Sutherlin and found ourselves once again in an area with a surprising number of wineries.  It was suggested that we do a tour of Oakland where many of the buildings are of historical significance.   Antique shops abound, although most were closed on the day we visited.  Traffic on the wide main streets was minimal and only a few folks were wandering about, leaving one with the impression that the town was a stage set after the final curtain.

Originally settled in the 1840’s, the town became an agricultural center and for a time turkey ranching was the primary industry.  It was here that the big-breasted turkey we enjoy today was developed.  Wood products, cattle, sheep and various farm crops kept the economy going.  But time passed, commerce moved elsewhere, and Oakland devolved into the quiet town it is today.  Not exactly a ghost town but well on its way.

Our next stop was Grants Pass, a city we’ve visited several times in the past.  Their Saturday farm market is one of the best.  So often “farm markets” are really craft shows but Grants Pass boasts a goodly number of booths offering organically grown fruits and veggies with a number of heirloom varieties to tempt the taste buds.  There’s a separate area for the craft vendors with a wide array of goods to choose from for those inclined in that direction.

Because we’ve seen most of the local attractions in Grants Pass, we decided to head to Jacksonville, which claims to be “one of the most historically significant communities in the western United States”.  Gold was discovered nearby in 1851 and the camp quickly developed into a major city with shops, banks, saloons.  It was the center of civilization in southern Oregon and the seat of county government but when the railroad bypassed it and chose Medford instead, Jacksonville entered a state of suspended animation until the residents decided to preserve its buildings and ambience.  Today it’s a National Historic Landmark, heavy on the eateries, boutiques and B&Bs in charming old homes.  We just strolled around town, poking into shops and soaking up the laid-back atmosphere.

Moving south into California, we spent two weeks in what is known as The Delta Loop at a membership campground.  This was time to get some heavy-duty chores done, rearrange cupboards, etc.  We also were able to have a mini-reunion with Howie’s college chum, Charles, and his wife Ellen, who live over near San Francisco.  After sitting around yakking for the afternoon, we drove to Rio Vista for dinner at Foster’s Bighorn.  Unbeknownst to us, Foster’s is famous; not for its food so much as for its collection of wildlife trophies.  Our table was directly under an elephant’s head, reputed to be the largest mammal trophy in any collection.  The tusks, mounted separately, are said to weigh 110 pounds each.  I was left wondering just how well that particular trophy was attached to the wall…and just how sturdy the wall was in the first place!

This area of California is criss-crossed with winding rivers such as the Sacramento and the San Joaquin, held in place by levees.  The flat areas between rivers are planted in all sorts of crops, including grapes to help supply the many vineyards in the region.  There are also enormous fields of corn and tomatoes and we’ve been told that asparagus is one of the most significant crops in the spring.  The nearest town of any size is Lodi and it sports a very charming downtown area, studded with interesting shops and places to eat.  The downtown’s “signature” is this mission-style arch.  Except for the fact that it’s in the state of California, Lodi meets all the requirements as a place to live if and when traveling ceases to amuse us – big enough to have a Costco and small enough to find your way around without much help.

A wintering spot for lesser and sandhill cranes, Lodi brags a bit about its winged winter visitors with this fountain situated in front of the railroad station. 

 

 

 

 

We spent our final Sunday in Lodi visiting the Hill House Mansion, a Queen Anne confection open to the public only from 1:00 to 4:00 on Sundays and staffed by members of the Historical Society.  Our tour guide, a long-time resident of the city, filled us in on all the details about the house, the Hill family and Lodi’s history.  We’ve toured a great many similar historic homes but this one has a unique aspect which most others do not; generally furniture and artifacts are “of the period” but almost all of the contents of the Hill House belonged to the family and were used in the home.  At one time the house sat “downtown” across the street from the Post Office but eventually commercial expansion made its site less attractive and the house was moved, in toto, to its present location.  Our tour guide as a young boy had watched this magnificent Victorian home being hauled down the street by a one-ton truck and plopped down on Church Street where it now faces west, not east as it once had.

The guide explained that the house was not the first in Lodi, nor was it the grandest but it is a complete intact example of how the upper middle class lived at the turn of the century.  What a great treasure!  In touring old homes such as this, someone in the tour group is certain to bring up the subject of ghosts and this trip was no exception.  Our guide was not only ready to address the subject but even a bit eager, although he personally disavowed any strong belief in the paranormal.  He told some of the stories covered in this newspaper article and admitted to feeling a bit uneasy every time he had to be at the house late at night.

Now we continue our trek southward where we will be spending some time visiting the central coast of California along with a few of its famous missions.  Stayed tuned for a full report…eventually.

Neskowin, Oregon – September, 2011

Slowly but surely we are recovering from our Alaskan adventure, the healing process having been delayed by back-to-back colds which rendered us less than energetic for the chores that needed to be done.  Our first stop, after crossing back into the U.S., was a membership campground in Fall City, Washington.  It turned out to be a poor choice, being very dry and dusty and certainly no place to begin cleaning the exteriors of coach and car.  We knew enough not to expect sewer hook-ups but on our previous visit some years ago a honey-wagon was available for $7 per dump; that same service now costs $25.  And this time we were assigned a spot which had absolutely no t.v. reception whatsoever.  We’d had quite enough of “roughing it” and were ready for some good ol’ amenities.

So we pulled up stakes prematurely and headed to Troutdale, Oregon to a campground we knew had all the comforts of home and then some.  It was there that we restocked the larder and Howie cleaned the exterior of coach and car – we even took the car to a detailer to have the engine steam-cleaned.  Yes, folks, it was that dirty inside and beginning to show some tendency to stall from time to time.

Having no particular destination in mind except to be in Mesa, Arizona by December 1, we pulled a campground out of a hat and ended up  in Neskowin, Oregon.  Located only a quarter mile or so from beach access, the campground has been a delight. We haven’t taken advantage of the heated indoor pool or spa but we’ve enjoyed several trips to the beach, several trips to nearby Lincoln City and a reunion with our Oregon-based “family”, Gail and Ruthee.   We had met them quite by chance earlier in the year during a stay in Ehrenberg, Arizona and have been in touch by email ever since.  On one particularly busy day, we headed off early to hit the outlet mall, shopped til we nearly dropped and then headed to Mo’s in old-town Taft for a clam chowder lunch to fortify ourselves.

Feeling full-ish and just a little bit lazy, we continued south on Highway 101 almost to the city of Depoe Bay, making several stops along the way to admire the fine ocean views and picturesque Oregon coast.  The views, of course, ebb and flow along with the tide – this little outcropping would be much less accessible at high tide.

 

Neskowin is primarily a residential area with street after street of “beach cottages”, some of which fit the cottage category very nicely and others which fall more into the mega-cottage designation.  Regardless of the size, most yards were ablaze with flowers.

After Gail and Ruthee  headed back to their ranch, we hit the road to McMinnville for a visit to the Evergreen Aviation and Space Museum, home to Howard Hughes’ famous (or infamous) flying boat, nicknamed The Spruce Goose.  Conceived as a means to get fresh troops to Europe during WWII without encountering German U-boats, it took so long to build and test this enormous plane that the war was over with before its first (and only) test flight.  The plane is not made of spruce but of birch and is nothing short of enormous – a B-17 was parked under its tail and was dwarfed by the huge gray bird.  While not on a par with the museums at Wright-Patterson or Pensacola, the Evergreen is a fine display of vintage aircraft, including a number of excellent reproductions, after all, not everybody can lay claim to the original Spirit of St. Louis.  Admission fees are high, $19 per person for seniors.

It was a beautiful day when we drove a bit north along Highway 101 to a scenic overlook for a view of the crashing waves, sea birds and an oncoming bank of serious-looking clouds.   If it were a

 

 

bit earlier in the season, we’d certainly look into prolonging our visit to the Oregon Coast; instead we’ll put it on the list of places we need to revisit in the near future.  The whale migrations will begin soon and that certainly would be something to see.

We also took a short ride to find the Drift Creek covered bridge.  It was easy enough to find if somewhat of a disappointment.  What wasn’t easy was making a left turn back onto SR18 – we ended up having to drive quite a distance east before we could make a U-turn and go west again.  Traffic on both U.S. 101 and SR18 is heavy, regardless of the day of the week.  Now that school is back in session, we thought for sure the congestion would abate.  Wrong!

Next we’ll be heading to Eugene to have all new tires installed on the coach, after which we’ll make hops, skips and jumps with the intention of arriving in the California delta near Lodi by October 4.  Stay tuned for our next slow-motion travel report.

Adios Alaska

Editor’s note:  With apologies to our readers who prefer Firefox to Windows Internet Explorer, I’ve run out of patience to go through the numerous “fiddle & republish” cycles needed to display photos correctly.  Explorer does it right the first time, so I’m leaving it at that.  I haven’t tried viewing the results in other browsers, as there are so few readers who use them.  So, if you want to see what we posted and in the form we wanted you to see it, (imagine a pained expression on my face) use “Explorer” to view this blog.

It was another rainy and overcast day when we departed Skagway but at least the trip up the big hill was much less stressful because visibility was much improved.  It rained most of the way to Teslin which was a one-night stop-over for us. To keep us from getting complacent the coach developed yet another quirk – a bay door kept popping open and we eventually lost a set of jumper cables and a small air compressor before Howie bungeed the door closed and convinced it to remain so. 

But into each life some sunshine must fall.  The refrigerator self-repaired as we bounced down the highway and by the time we got to Watson Lake we were able to buy a few perishables and enjoy a meal that didn’t come straight from a can.  Russ and Rochelle caught up with us in Watson Lake, having taken the Top of the World Highway where they enjoyed themselves enormously and even encountered some latter-day banditos of the Klondike variety.

The weather had improved  by the time we headed down the Cassiar Highway, a 450 mile stretch that connects the Alaska Highway with the Yellowhead through a pretty remote area of British Columbia.  The first 50 miles or so of the highway is in pretty rough condition and we sustained another ding in the coach’s windshield thanks to a semi that was flying down the road.  Most of the truckers were very considerate of oncoming traffic, slowing down and hugging the shoulder, but not this hot shot – he was just intent on getting someplace in a big hurry.  And, it wouldn’t surprise us if some take a perverse pleasure in punishing the RVers who have the temerity to use their roads.

The weather turned sour again as we neared the turn-off onto Route 37A which leads to Stewart (BC) and Hyder (AK), a pair of dinky towns famous for their bear population.  The road leads past Bear Glacier (how did they ever come up with that name?) where there were several pull-offs for those inclined to admire the glacier.  It continued to rain during the night and was not any better in the morning but we came to Hyder to see bears and off we went to see them.  The Forest Service has developed a boardwalk along Fish Creek where folks can congregate in relative safety and watch the bears fishing in the creek.  We saw one black bear, or at least the top of his head, but he wasn’t fishing, he was eating berries, stoking up for the oncoming winter.  There were quite a few eagles and gulls enjoying what remained of the spawning salmon.

The three intrepid bear watchers dropped me off back at the coach and set off late in the afternoon for another shot of bear watching and a trip to Salmon Glacier.  By this time I’d had it right up to here with cold damp weather and was looking forward to a quiet afternoon with some hot chocolate and a good book.  The three intrepids saw several more bears at Fish Creek, including grizzlies, and went to the tippy-top of the glacier.  It was nearly dark when they finally returned, happy as larks with their big adventure.  I was even happier without it.  

Once we got back on the Cassiar Highway, the weather improved a great deal and we saw a number of bears along the road; black bears with cubs and even a handsome grizzly with a combination of cinnamon and dark brown coat.  And that’s when we saw a too-dumb-to-live tourist driving a – you guessed it: Call 1-800-RV4-RENT – who had gotten out of his vehicle and was approaching the grizzly across the highway, camera in hand.  The bear shot him a look of total contempt and melted into the roadside shrubbery.  There’s no shortage of stupid!  We didn’t get a shot of the grizzly, but Rochelle did capture this fellow who didn’t feel like using one of the clearly designated bear crossings

Just before the Cassiar meets the Yellowhead is the Native town of Gitwangak with a fine display of authentic totem poles.  The town also boasts  this picturesque Anglican church and it’s adjacent bell tower.  The town itself seemed deserted, a few cars rolled in and out during our brief stay but no dogs barked, no doors slammed, just complete silence.  It was a bit eerie.

With the Labor Day holiday weekend approaching we were fortunate to find a very helpful person at the Houston (BC) visitors center who secured us campsites in Vanderhoof, even though it wasn’t quite as far as we’d planned to go that day.  But we had a pretty spot to get off the road for the holiday and we decided to stick around an extra day.  Russ and Rochelle had reservations back in the States and so had to hit the road after just one evening. 

And sometimes inexplicable things happen.  Since Dave’s RV Park was so pretty and had all the amenities one could hope for, Howie emailed Bill and Caroline to tell them about it.   We thought they were a day or two behind us.  Bill didn’t read the email but he did make the long hard drive from Hyder to Vanderhoof in one day and they did select Dave’s as the place to stay.  And so we were reunited and made the trip back to the Lower 48 with them, just as we’d started out the adventure so many weeks before.  The final day’s drive was exhausting for both driver and white-knuckle passenger.  The road follows first the twists and turns of the Thompson River and then the twists and turns of the Frazer River, always with rugged magnificent scenery to enjoy. 

To celebrate our last night of the adventure, the four of us went out to dinner in Chilliwack and the meal was a metaphor for the entire trip, with some high points and low points but with good companions with which to share the experience.

Skagway, Alaska – August 23-28, 2011

“When the fireweed turns to cotton, Summer is soon forgotten”.

And, as you can see, the fireweed has gone all cotton-y.  The air has chilled considerably and we’ve seen new snow in some of the higher elevations.  Trees, shrubs and roadside grasses have taken on their glorious autumn colors.

 

 

After a fair amount of dithering on my part, we finally opted to take the South Klondike Highway into Skagway instead of the Haines Highway into, you guessed it, Haines.  The South Klondike intersects with the Alaska Highway just a few miles east of Whitehorse and runs the 98 miles to downtown Skagway.  It is the only road into (and out of) Skagway.  There are a number of lakes and ponds along the way, including the very beautiful Emerald Lake, so called for it’s green and teal shoreline.  As we’ve said many times before, one can only imagine how pretty it must be when the sun is shining.

What had caused me to dither about the sanity of taking the South Klondike was The Milepost’s mention of the 11% downhill grade for 11 1/2 miles to reach Skagway.  What wasn’t mentioned was that the road is carved into the side of a mountain with a sheer rock wall on one side and a steep drop-off on the other.  But it didn’t matter because we couldn’t see any of it – we made our descent in a thick fog.  By staying between the dotted yellow line and the solid white one, we made our way down to U.S. Customs which is placed several miles away from the actual border crossing, likely at a spot designed to give the tour buses a chance to let their brakes cool.  There were any number of cyclists, heading uphill and down, in the heavy fog and steady rain which, to our minds, qualified them all for a Darwin Award.

It was late by the time we got settled in at the RV park so we postponed exploration of Skagway until the following day.  What we found was a small town a-swarm with tourists fresh off the three or four enormous cruise ships which were in port.  They wandered at will, into and out of shops, into and out of the road with no regard to possible traffic.  It took the same kind of defensive driving as it did to avoid hitting the Stone sheep along the Alaska Highway.  In fact, we heard a tour bus driver refer to them as “sheeple”.  Much of downtown Skagway is a National Historic Site and the NPS owns many of the buildings.  The hordes of gold seekers heading to The Klondike arrived in Skagway by boat, along with a year’s supply of food and clothing for each man, woman and child.  They headed up the White Pass Trail to Dawson City 600 miles away in Yukon Territory to find their fortune in gold.

Our main reason for going to Skagway was to take a “fast ferry” to Juneau but we found that there weren’t any seats available until Saturday so we had to extend our stay.  And we despaired of how we might entertain ourselves for those extra days.  At first glance there doesn’t seem to be much to Skagway except gift shops selling enormous chuncks of “tanzanite” and “diamonds”, but we were pleasantly surprised that our time there filled up quickly.

We spent one day aboard the White Pass and Yukon Railroad traveling the 20 or so miles back up the mountain to the U.S./Canadian border only on the opposite side of the canyon that the highway follows.  The round-trip to White Pass and back takes about 3 hours and is fairly expensive.  A woman seated in front of us fell asleep as soon as the train started moving and slept for most of the tour.  It must be nice to be able to spend that kind of money for a nap!

The trip’s narrator kept telling us how lucky we were to have such a good day for the trip.  As you can see from the photos, it was not exactly clear as a bell but apparently far superior to the previous day’s trip which was made in a fat low-hanging cloud.  Use your imagination to see how pretty the view of Skagway would be on a sunny day.  (If you’re tired of hearing that, just imagine how we feel!)  We found the trip pretty boring actually.

With our “extra” day in Skagway, we headed off to the ghost town of Dyea (pronounced die yee), which was also a jumping-off point for those headed to the Klondike.  Those folks, however, headed up the Chilkoot Trail toward Dawson City.  The town eventually folded when the railroad came to Skagway and provided an easier way “up the hill”.  Now there’s nothing left except some depressions in the ground, a few piles of lumber and this ghostly false front. 

Later in the day we took another ranger-led walking tour, this time through downtown Skagway to learn something about the town’s most famous outlaw, Soapy Smith.  Soapy was both a leading citizen doing good deeds and the ringleader of an unsavory gang.  He led the 4th of July parade (in 1898) on his prancing white horse and a few days later was dead of a bullet to the heart.  The hero (or villain, depending on your outlook) was a fellow named Frank Reid.  Both men are buried at the Gold Rush Cemetery, Soapy with a plain wooden headstone and Reid with a big granite monument.  Many of the buildings which figure in this saga are still standing.

There are several very interesting museums in Skagway, including the Corrington’s Ivory Museum at the rear of a gift shop.  This mastodon tusk was intricately and delicately carved; the world’s largest baleen basket was also on display.

 

The highlight of our visit to Skagway (and perhaps even the entire trip to Alaska) was the day we boarded the Fjordland, a high speed catamaran.  She was built especially to travel the Lynn Canal, delivering her passengers to Juneau in time for lunch and get them back to Skagway before bedtime.  Never far from the coastline, the captain, Glen Jacobson, was able to point out glaciers, waterfalls, and humpback whales.  The first bear sighting was of a sow with last year’s cub and this year’s baby.  They were doing a little family fishing where a stream emptied into the canal (we never did learn why they’re called canals instead of fjords, they are glacier-carved valleys that have filled with water).  Just a bit later we saw another sow and cub.  Both sows kept a close eye on us.

Glen was good about pointing out wildlife, including Dall’s porpoises, Stellar sea lions and harbor seals.  The sea lions were just lolling about on a rocky outcropping.  If there’d been any, they’d be soaking up the sun.  We haven’t figured out how these seals managed to get aboard the buoy but they were obviously very happy to be there as you can tell from the smiles on some of their faces. 

When we arrived in Juneau, we were herded aboard a Gray Line bus and whisked off for a rolling tour of the town.  After being dropped off at the harbor and told the best spots to find lunch, we were on our own for a couple of hours.  Naturally we raced up the hill to visit the capitol and get our souvenir passport book stamped.  Alaskans, being a thrifty lot, didn’t waste a lot of money building a capitol when they became a state – they simply purchased what had been the territory’s Federal building.  So it doesn’t have a dome and doesn’t look particularly “capitol-ish” but it serves the purpose.  The young lady who conducted the tour acted put-upon to be asked to do her job and didn’t leave us with a very good impression – sure hope she’s not planning to enter the hospitality industry when she graduates from college.

From there it was down the hill, grabbing a couple of sourdough bagels at the Silverbow Inn.  According to the brochure, their sourdough “starter” is over 100 years old.  So we gulped down our old bagels and headed for the Alaska State Museum.  It’s quite well done, although not large, and has some wonderful old photos of the native peoples, the early settlers and the “stampeders”, which is what they called those headed for the Klondike in search of gold.  Then it was a few minutes of poking into some of the shops before heading back to the harbor to re-board the bus for a trip out to Mendenhall Glacier.

The bus driver had admonished us to leave all food and drinks on the bus.  Bears frequent the area and problems could arise should they catch the odor of a Hershey Bar.  We had just exited the Visitors Center when I remembered there were some snack bars and hard candy in my purse so I made a U-turn and deposited them in a wastebasket.  Good thing, too, because there was a bear right outside the Center’s front door, perhaps 20 yards away, rummaging in the dirt for whatever bears rummage in dirt for.  The bear seemed very disinterested in the tourists gawking at him.

The Mendenhall Glacier, even under cloudy skies, shows a remarkable amount of blue coloring.  Even the mini-icebergs floating in the lake are highly colored.  Standing there, admiring a large glacier, is similar to standing in front of a refrigerator with the door open.  Cold just palpitates from its frosty surface.  As mentioned earlier, glaciers don’t do much at any speed that’s visible to the naked eye, so it was good to get back on the nice toasty bus for the ride back to the harbor where we got settled back aboard The Fjordland.

The captain had received word while in port that a pod of orca whales (aka killer whales) had been spotted along our route back to Skagway.  Soon we found ourselves amid them.  With the engines cut, glassy moonstone-colored seas and a microphone tossed overboard to “listen” to their chatter, it was an other-worldly experience and one we won’t soon forget.  Many of the orcas sported about, surfacing and diving and making conversation, most notable was a mother and calf doing a synchronized swim routine and a rather rude fellow who aimed a raspberry in our direction.  Whales don’t have lips so it wasn’t easy for him!  Even the captain, who has made this trip many times, claimed never to have heard an orca raspberry.

Along the way we passed this lighthouse which is being offered for sale by the Federal Government.  As with the cost of so many governmental things, the purchase price hasn’t been posted anywhere.  So make ‘em an offer.  It looks to need a significant amount of work but the helipad is probably in good shape since the Coast Guard uses it frequently.  Included in the final price would be the resident ghosts, poor souls shipwrecked nearby who’ve since taken shelter in the lighthouse. 

And so ended an enormously entertaining day and the end of our stay in Skagway.  Folks were leaving town in droves and we joined them, driving out in a heavy downpour.  Soon there’ll be nobody left except the 800 stalwarts who make Skagway their home year-round.

Glenn Highway, Tok Cutoff and Tok, Alaska

We left Palmer under heavy skies and drove the super-scenic Glenn Highway eastward.  The road is in fair to middling condition and runs along the Matanuska River and past the Matanuska Glacier.  This is a fairly sizeable glacier, being nearly two miles wide where it terminates at the river it has created.  Some glaciers are growing, some are ebbing and some are stable – the Matanuska is one of the stable ones.

Which leads me to a question I’ve been pondering since we encountered our first glacier in Alaska.  Why do folks find them so fascinating that they’ll go miles out of their way to see one?  After all, they are just old snow and some of it fairly dirty snow at that.  They generally hang out in inaccessible places, make the area around them chillier than you thought it would be ( and haven’t dressed appropriately) and don’t do anything except at, you should pardon the expression, a glacial pace.  But folks can’t seem to get enough of them.

The Milepost has advised us to be on the look-out for trumpeter and tundra swans in the small ponds that are dotted around the landscape.  We saw a number of swans but from a moving vehicle and at a great distance, we couldn’t tell if they were trumpeters or tundras.  We’ve been told there’s a goodly difference in size (which could only be judged if they were side by side) and that the tundra has a small yellow area on the beak, whereas the trumpeter’s beak is all black.  Either way, they are elegant and regal and wonderful to see in the wild.

The Glenn Highway intersects with the Richardson near the town of Glennallen and a few miles north we picked up the Tok Cutoff.   The cutoff is not exactly a speedway and we encountered areas of construction with some lengthy delays waiting for the “follow me” car.  We had confirmed reservations in Tok so were in no part-   icular hurry. The clouds were quite low that day so we weren’t able to see the wonderful views of the Wrangle Mountain Range The Milepost bragged about.

Now that we were in Tok we had a steady and consistent supply of ice with which to keep the refrigerator cold.  Or at least cold-ish.  It had a nervous breakdown while we were in Palmer and the halibut (and a variety of other frozen foods) became endangered.  It turned out that Russ and Rochelle were in Tok at the same time we were and so I created a chicken dish to use up some of the food cache and we had a vicious game of Aggravation.

There was a winding down feeling in Tok.  Maybe it had something to do with all the sales at the gift shops and the empty RV sites and lack of traffic.  We couldn’t help but notice that some of the aspens along the Glenn and Tok Cutoff had started to take on some color and the fireweed was down to its last few blossoms and showing tufts of “cotton”.

Russ and Rochelle left to take the Top of the World Highway from Chicken to Dawson City while we opted for a more sane route toward “home”.  Which is how we came to be in Destruction Bay along with a caravan of about 20 coaches.  When the caravans stop, the owner of the Destruction Bay Lodge takes off his camp- ground owner/chef/baker hat and puts on his entertainer hat and we were invited to join in the evening’s festivities.  He sang and told stories about the path he took to this wide spot in the Alaska Highway.  We were all particularly interested in what one does in Destruction Bay in the dead of winter.  It’s a long drive to Whitehorse for supplies, that’s for sure. 

The trip to Skagway and our visit there deserves a chapter all to itself and so that will follow shortly.

Kenai Peninsula – Part II, Plus Palmer and Talkeetna, Alaska

We had very pleasant weather for our short drive from Soldotna to Seward and got settled in at Stoney Creek RV Park early enough that we could dash into town for a quick look around.  We were scheduled for a wildlife and glacier cruise on Friday and stopped by Major Marine Tours to get signed up for the prime rib and salmon buffet.  Both the Kenai Fjords National Park visitors center and the Seward Visitors Center were uninteresting so we hustled back to the campground and sat in the sun, a most pleasant change of pace.  The sun actually felt warm!

Our campsite faced Stoney Creek (not that we could see it for the bushes) and we had high hopes that we would see a moose or two.  Moose-themed souvenirs dominate Alaskan gift shops and road signs warning of moose crossings abound.  But we’ve come to believe moose are mythical characters, like unicorns or Big Foot, since we’ve yet to see one.  We did see a head and antlers at the Anchorage Zoo and a moose behind disappearing into the woods in Denali but we’ve yet to see an entire moose, even though we’ve been to some pretty moose-ish neighborhoods.  On the other hand, friends touring the New England states this summer have seen plenty of them. 

When we booked reservations for the wildlife cruise, we based our date choice on a long-range weather forecast.  Friday was the only day predicted to be only partly cloudy in a long string of bad weather.  And the weather was just lovely as we boarded the Kenai Star for a trip out of Resurrection Bay in a search for wildlife and glaciers.  Before the captain even backed out of the slip we saw a harbor seal and within minutes spotted a sea otter.  He was floating on his back with a pair of live crabs balanced on his chest, snacking away to his heart’s content.  Between the park ranger and the captain, we were alerted to wildlife spottings in plenty of time to see, if not photograph, the birds and mammals.

Our tally for the day resulted in sightings of two humpback whales, a pile of rocks dotted with the endangered Stellar sea lions, harbor seals both in and out of the water, a small flotilla of sea otters, Dall porpoise which look like miniature orcas and have an inclination to cavort alongside boats, bald eagles and seabirds too numerous to mention.  Puffins are the iconic birds of the Kenai and we saw plenty of them, both tufted and horned.

 

 

Our route took us out of Resurrection Bay, around the Aialik Cape and into Aialik Bay so that we could get up close and personal with Aialik Glacier.  Along the way, the ranger informed us about the various types of glaciers we were seeing; Aialik is of the tide-water variety and terminates at the water’s edge.  The “calves” fall directly into the sea and there were plenty of little icebergs floating around to keep the theme song from “Titanic” running through my mind.

 

 

It hardly seemed we’d left the bay when savory odors began wafting about.  The crew was obviously preparing our buffet meal and it could come none to soon to suit me.  Staring at the water can give a body a ravenous appetite.  The menu consisted of prime rib, a tasty baked salmon dish, rice pilaf, mixed green salad, sour-dough bread and a beverage of choice.  Later along in the afternoon, a variety of desserts was presented.

As we returned to port, the clouds began rolling in and the sun had disappeared completely so we counted our blessings that we’d had a fine day for sailing.  And we slept the sleep of the seriously over-fed and contented.

Sure enough, our second full day in Seward was overcast and chilly.  On our way to town, we stopped off at Exit Glacier, a segment of Kenai Fjords National Park.  Howie took the established trail up to the glacier to snap this photo.  As a long-time resident of Upstate New York, I’ve seen dirty snow and went back to the car to read a good book.  Exit is the type known as a “valley glacier” which inches its way down a mountain and into a valley. 

We also paid a visit to the Seward Historical Museum, housed in the Senior Center, and to the Benny Benson Memorial.  Benny spent his early years in an orphanage in Seward and, as a seventh-grader, won the contest to design a flag for the Territory of Alaska.  That design, with navy blue ground and gold stars, is now the State Flag.  We also discovered the “shopping district”, the old part of town which abounds in shops selling Alaska-themed items.

On Sunday we visited the Alaska SeaLife Center, a marine research and rehabilitation facility which grew out of the catastrophe of the Exxon Valdez spill.  We sat in on a lecture about declining Stellar sea lion populations and another on the Center’s rehab process for injured or orphaned sea creatures.  What struck us the most was the cost of caring for an orphan sea otter pup -- $20,000 for two months of care.  Maybe that includes hazard pay for the caregivers; sea otters were described as “chainsaws with fur”.  Most of the animals in rehab are kept out of sight of the tourists so that they won’t imprint and can, in time, be returned to the wild.  Here’s a two-month old seal pup…aren’t they just the cutest things!!

The aviary section was a-squawk with seabirds of all sorts.  Getting close-up photos of puffins in the wild proved to be impossible so here are photos taken at the Center of the two types:  tufted (the one with the yellow DA haircut) and horned (the one with the spiked eyebrows).

 

 

By the time we left the SeaLife Center it was raining mightily and it continued almost all night.  The clouds hadn’t cleared when we pulled out to head north on the way back to Palmer.  We’d already scrapped the idea of going to Valdez since the forecast for the next ten days included rain, followed by more rain.  And when rain wasn’t predicted, clouds were.  Fortunately just as we began the trek along Turnagain Arm heading into Anchorage, the sun made an appearance and we had some good views all along the way.

We checked in at The Homestead RV Park in Palmer, a pretty setting in a grove of white birch.  Our next-door neighbors, it turned out, had spent many years living in Rochester, New York.  It has been proven to us over and over again that it is indeed a small world.

What was to be our only full day in Palmer was sunny and even a bit warm.  When it turned out that the admission fee for a nearby musk ox farm was what we consider “too high”, we decided to take a road trip (is that novel or what!) up to Talkeetna.  Along the way we were afforded some magnificent views of Mt. McKinley, here reflecting itself in Kashwitna Lake.  The mountain was definitely out!  Footnote:  Just a few hours later, on our return to Palmer, the mountain had gone into hiding.  We could see only a pile of clouds on the horizon where Mt. McKinley once stood.

Talkeetna is either a rustic town turned tourist trap or a tourist trap turned rustic.  Many of the old log cabins are now bistros or trinket shops or both.  It is the hub for “flightseeing” tours of Denali and the starting point for climbers wishing to scale Mt. McKinley.  The bright sunlight brought out tourists of all sorts, some of whom arrived by tour bus or via The Alaska Railroad, or drove in from elsewhere.  McKinley was still visible from the banks of the river.

The Talkeetna Historical Society Museum consists of three buildings:  the former little red schoolhouse, the train depot and a railroad section house, now referred to as “the model house”.  The model house holds the museum’s mountaineering exhibit, including a scale model of Mt. McKinley.  A volunteer from the nearby Ranger Station gave a talk on climbing Mt. McKinley.  About half the people who attempt the climb actually make it to the summit.  They did not offer any statistics on the percentage who make it to the top but not back down again.  In fact, the climbers of Mt. McKinley have a higher rate of success than the viewers of Mt. McKinley – only about 30% of visitors have the opportunity to see it when it’s “out”.

We spotted this old photo in the Depot portion of the museum.  Wouldn’t you just love to know the story behind it?

Plans were to move to Glennallen today but this part of Alaska is once again enjoying heavy rains.  There was even a bit of a thunderstorm (an infrequent occurrence) this morning so we’ve extended our stay here an extra day and hope for better weather tomorrow.  The fireweed has bloomed all the way to the top, has fluffed out with cotton and so it’s time to be on our way back to the Lower 48.  The locals have a saying: “When the fireweed turns to cotton, Summer is soon forgotten”.