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.