It’s just a little over 200 miles from where we were camped near Denali to the Big Bear RV Park a hair south of Wasilla along the beautiful Parks Highway. Initially I thought the highway was named to its proximity to Denali NP but, no, it was named for George A. Parks, the territorial governor from 1925-33. Along the way we had a series of views of Mt. McKinley, lovely lakes and ponds, rugged mountains and bogs where moose might gather. But not so much as a single glimpse of a moose.
Wasilla has been mocked out by the big-city press over the past few years as a haven for hicks and rednecks with frost bite. In fact it is a bedroom community for Alaska’s biggest city, Anchorage, and has most of the amenities you could wish for. We were delighted to once again shop in stores that offered more than one kind of white bread (and it wasn’t stale before you took it off the shelf). The first order of business was to make a run to the Super Walmart for a refill on our prescriptions. There was a small snafu but the pharmacy team rectified it almost instantly and we were on our way back to camp and a good night’s sleep.
The weather continued to be on-again off-again with rain for half a day and sunshine for the other. Unfortunately most of the sunshine came after some of us wanted to turn in for the night. We toured the small but well-planned historical society museum as well as the mushing museum at the Iditarod Headquarters near Lake Lucille. The gray skies gave us an opportunity to spot the two stone chips on the Saturn’s windshield and get those repaired before they “ran”. Wasilla also provided an opportunity for us to get much-needed haircuts. Luck failed me once again and I got a lousy cut at a franchise salon. It doesn’t seem to matter how much or little I spend on a haircut, they are seldom satisfactory.
It was a lovely sunshiny day when we drove the few miles to the neighboring city of Palmer.
What a pretty little city! Palmerites almost always win the giant vegetable prizes at the state fair, which may explain why the fair is held in Palmer instead of some larger city. This is the home of the 100 pound cabbages and 58 pound beets – fertile glacial soil and endless hours of daylight combine for a growing season that can’t be beat. Palmer started life in the 1930’s as a New Deal project whereby folks from the lower 48 (mostly from Minnesota and Wisconsin) were “given” 40 acres and the promise of a house to establish a community here. What they discovered was that the 40 acres first needed to be cleared of timber and the houses built from that timber. With winter fast approaching, a significant percentage of those “volunteers” headed back to the Lower 48. Those who did stick it out soon tired of the government’s demand for price controls and assorted other “rules and regs” and refused to play the game. Today many of the farms are owned and operated by the descendents of those original families…and who still don’t much like the government telling them what to do.
Wasilla holds a farmers market every Wednesday behind the city museum so we dropped in for a visit, our taste buds screaming for some genuine fresh produce. Too bad there was nothing we could afford! Green beans were priced at $9.95 a pound and home-grown tomatoes varied from $5.00 to $7.00 a pound.
On our final full day in Wasilla, we experienced an earthquake in the 5.5 range. It was centered up near Talkeetna and shook our coach a fair amount. Initially I thought Howie had fallen out of bed, not that it’s possible to fall out of bed in an RV, but then the tremor continued. It felt as if the washer/dryer had hit the spin cycle. It was enough to wake Howie who thought I was doing some sort of exercise in the living room. We were both wrong. A neighbor who was smart enough to turn on the t.v. told us what had happened.
Later that morning we made the 30-plus mile drive into Anchorage to visit the Alaska Zoo. They don’t have a lot of animals, and most of them are cold-weather species, but we thoroughly enjoyed our visit. The female polar bear was in a totally playful mood and was doing her underwater tai chi while playing with a section of plastic tubing. The tube was large enough to accommodate her enormous front paws and she insisted on wearing it like a muff. Attempts to stick her head in one end failed. Meanwhile, the male polar bear sat on a rock and sunned himself, yawning mightily and letting his eyelids flutter closed like some-people-we-could-name dosing in front of the t.v.
Although they weren’t active when we stopped by, the two Siberian tigers in the Anchorage collection were born and raised at the Rosamund Gifford Zoo in Syracuse, New York. That makes them already acclimated to inclement weather!
Bill and Carolyn decided to stay behind in Wasilla to allow some much-needed mail to catch up with them while we went on ahead to Anchorage.
The sun was shining so it was an excellent afternoon to visit the Botanical Garden. We haven’t yet learned to drench ourselves in DEET before heading out and, immediately upon entering the garden, were set upon by those little bloodsuckers. This is the only public garden we’ve visited thus far that comes with a warning to keep an eye open for bear and moose. It was also the first time we were able to see Himalayan blue poppies, a Holy Grail of gardening. They were a bit of a disappointment – I was expecting a larger flower along the lines of an Oriental poppy and a blue in the same league as delphiniums. They looked more like baby blue hollyhocks and something had been nibbling them so the blooms were not in tip-top condition. Life can be full of minor disappointments, eh.
Saturday started out overcast, with drips of rain now and then, but we decided to forge ahead with a trip to downtown Anchorage for a visit to the Farm Market and whatever else downtown had to offer. We found a parking spot and began our stroll, poking our noses into some of the shops before reaching the farm market. The market covers quite a bit of space and there are vendors offering all sorts of Alaskan-made items: honey, syrup, jewelry, knives, t-shirts and even some home-grown produce, although I was a bit suspicious about the oranges. Once again we found prices on the produce to be ridiculously high.
I’ve been eying ulus since we first discovered them at a grocery store in Fairbanks so we climbed aboard a free shuttle headed for a tour of the Alaskan Ulu Factory down near the railroad station. The factory wasn’t running but a docent described how they are made and pointed out various pieces of machinery. Then we watched the video on how to use them and saw the ancient ones in a display case. The ulu is a perfect example of a good idea being hatched in a variety of places – it looks exactly like an old Italian kitchen implement called a mezzaluna. I was going to purchase one but decided they were cheaper at Fred Meyers.
The Alaska Museum is mind-boggling, almost too much to comprehend in just one visit. There’s a section devoted to paintings, mostly oils, by northern artists. An enormous room houses a chronological collection of artifacts relating to Alaska’s evolution to statehood, including quite a large section devoted to the pipe-line and it’s ramification on the state’s economy and environment. There’s also a Smithsonian-sponsored display of clothing, jewelry and utensils. The parka made entirely of auklet pelts was especially interesting but I could have lived without knowing the hem and neckline were trimmed with dog fur.
It was nearing 3:00 p.m. and I was feeling very much in need of a rest along with some food. We were heading back to the car (and a power bar or two) when Howie spotted a streetside vendor who had reindeer sausage for sale. So we each had a sausage, quite spicy, topped with sautéed onions and the usual hotdog condiments. Fortified with food, we proceeded to Earthquake Park for a view of Cook’s Inlet. Theoretically you can see Mt. McKinley from there but it was overcast again by then and we couldn’t see much of anything except gray skies and gray water.
Now it’s on to the Kenai Peninsula and a rendezvous with Russ and Rochelle.
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