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August 16 – Friday – Seward to Glacier View (Matanuska Glacier)
We say “good-bye” to the little “Burl Cabin” in the woods and go to the Train Rec for breakfast. The place is less busy and the waitress is friendlier. I’m sure there is a direct correlation. She even gives us some ice for the ice chest.
We retrace our steps to Anchorage along the Glenn Highway (#1 / #9) – still as beautiful as ever. The beauty diminishes as we near Anchorage. We turn right on 6th Ave, heading east, and stop for gas. As we head out of Anchorage the landscape gets a lot nicer. By Palmer, it’s not so bad. We see forests all along the road. (Later we learn that the forest is merely a curtain to hide farm lands. This region is the “bread basket” of Alaska and grows veggies, any kind of veggie, and grows it like crazy in the long days of summer.
On the Road
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On the Road |
In Palmer, we stop at a Deli / Market and order a ham and cheese sandwich to share and get an ice cream for dessert. We add the Fritos from the car and call it a very successful lunch. I am happy, anyway.
About 20 miles down the road, we find our turn off – Victory Road – and drive to the Homestead Cabins. (A few miles beyond our cabins is Victory Christian Camp / Center – using the word VICTORY as a descriptor sounds so “crusader” like.
We arrive about 1:30. Sandy, the proprietor, isn’t at home. We drive down the road and find Cabin 1 (our assigned cabin) and take matters into our own hands. Nothing is locked in these parts so we move in, unpack, and make ourselves at home.
Homestead Cabin
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Homestead Cabin |
We head back down the road looking for Mika Tours. We came to explore and hike on the Matanuska Glacier. Mika’s is highly recommended for Glacier guiding. Since we’ve never hiked on a glacier before, we think we may need a little help. Mika’s has no tours scheduled for the afternoon. They are having a big staff party instead. (You could feel the excitement in the air.) They refer us to Nova Guides, just down the road.
We find Nova and sign up for the 2:30 tour. Nick, our guide, fits us with crampons and helmets then we wait for the other 3 to show up for the tour. Three adorable, slightly giddy, gals show up. They are naturally fun, but more fun today because they had beer with their lunch. Two of them, Brianna and Liz, are in their last year of dental school at University of Wisconsin. Sarah has a nursing degree, but wants to go back to become a Nurse Practioner.
We are a hot group and Nick is a cool leader. Nick lets us play on the glacier an extra hour or more because we are having so much fun (and the girls are so cute). He said all of us are in the top 5% of the tourists he gets – and this was the first glacier experience for all of us. I think he is surprised by me, the old lady. My knees were still sore from the killer hike we did to the Harding Icefields – but running around the Matanuska Glacier seemed to stretch me out and fix everything.
Matanuska is like a big playground and we are like 6 kids in play mode. Nick shows us how to sink in the cornstarch type mud and then recover just in time before we sink. He puts mud on his face – mud from the Glacier that is packaged as a natural miracle and sold for $50 a jar. We run up the sides of ice walls with our crampons. love those crampons – makes you feel like Spider Man. With a handy, screw-in tool, Nick produces water and snow from the glacier. We drink water and eat what is like a flavorless snow cone. We splash down streams and climb higher and higher. Nick helps us up with his ice axe and rope. We transverse amazing landscape that is forever changing. I snap photos like a crazy person. It’s great having a wonderful, willing group of highly photogenic folks (except for Bill and me) to enhance the backgrounds. We are sad when it’s over. We exchange emails and pledge our undying friendship and commitment to stay in touch. Little do they know, with our aging brains, we’ll quickly forget names or where we wrote down their emails – but I’ll always remember the really fun adventure we shared.
Bill and I simmer down and act our age again while we discuss options for food. We eat at the Long Rifle – burger and fries (typical road trip fare that I adore). Our waitress is from the Czech Republic – very sweet and efficient. The views of the glacier from the back of the restaurant are the best anywhere. The large restaurant displays stuffed animals in every corner and along the walls and even in the rafters. I am fixated by the large Grizzly bear exposing his claws and teeth in a most unpleasant way. I think of Rich and his last encounter – I am terrified all over again. It is hard to look at the bear – but hard to look away.
Matanuska Glacier
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Long Rifle Grizzley |
It is about 8:30 when we return to our cabin – but there is still lots of light outside. We stop in to meet Sandy and Dan and their big friendly dog at the main house. Another couple from San Diego (along with their 2 kids and grandpa) drive up to claim their cabin for the night. The person who occupied our cabin the night before was also from San Diego. It seems as if everyone is either from San Diego or from Europe.
Everyone we’ve meet in Alaska has been so friendly and happy – maybe it's something in the water – or being surrounded by all this beauty.
We cuddle in our little bed in a cute little cabin in the big forest. How could life be any nicer?!!!!
P.S. Bill dreams about Michael, our friend from college and best man at our wedding. Mike recently passed away. In his dream, Michael comes to San Diego for a visit. We go somewhere to listen to jazz and talk.
August 17 – Saturday – Glacier View to McCarthy
We pack up, say “good-bye” to the cute little Homestead Cabin and mosey eastward on the Glenn Highway (#1). We stop for breakfast at the Sheep Mountain Lodge. Bill orders the traditional sourdough pancakes while I go for the bagel breakfast sandwich. I’m proud of Bill for being adventurous, but he soon discovers that one must acquire a taste for sourdough pancakes. However, the service is quick, the coffee is hot and the waitress, very friendly – great way to start the day.
We continue east down the lovely road with expansive views of waterways, valleys, and mountains- huge mountains-topped with glaciers in the backdrop. The glacier that we explored yesterday, Matanuska Glacier, sprawls over the mountain and down to sea level adding an“Ohmygod” touch to an already amazing view.
At the little town of Glennallen (heck, all the towns are little), we stop for gas. I dash into the bathroom only to discover the store is locked – no access to the facilities. The gas pumps are taking credit cards and work just fine. Bill already pumped a couple of gallons of gas into the tank when he learns no bathrooms available. He thinks “heck with that” and stops pumping the gas. With a little gas in our tank, we continue south on Richardson Highway and stop at the next station in Copper Center to fill ‘er up and use the facilities. I rush ahead to the one holer (for both male and female) and barely beat a line of some 15 odd middle aged Eastern European motorcyclists touring Alaska. Oh the folks you encounter while waiting for the head.
We drive down the road and turn off to the Visitor’s Center for the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park. It’s a beautiful center. We visit the museum, talk to the Ranger and view the excellent orientation video. I had no idea that such a national park existed. I am blown away by the vastness and grandness of the area – 6 times the size of Yellowstone, 9 of the 16 highest mountain peaks in North American are in the park. The park is 25% larger than the entire country of Switzerland and has higher mountain ranges than Switzerland. Only about 50,000 visitors enter Wrangell-St. Elias each year – that’s the same number that go to Yellowstone on 3 days in the winter! I leave numbed and overwhelmed about what I’m seeing -- Mother Nature at her grandest. Thank you Jimmy Carter for making this a national park back in 1980.
A little further south, we stop at an old fashioned country fair (in Kenny Lake). Having missed the Del Mar Fair for the last 5 years, I insist we stop for a “fair” slice of life. For $3 each we experience what the simple life is like – a fair without fanfare. The fairgrounds span a couple of acres surrounding the old community building built back in 1914.
I take in all the sights. Families with their kids; pony rides, and a free chalkboard for the kids to show their creativity – now’s that’s got to be fun!?!?! At their charming, hokey cake walk, I see a little boy win. He eyes all the cakes to choose from and selects the gooiest gloppiest chocolate concoction while his mother encourages him to make another selection – one that Martha Steward would approve of. The little guy is stubborn and cannot be persuaded – Good for him!
Kenny Lake Country Fair
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Kenny Lake Country Fair |
The 4-H entries with a few scattered blue ribbons strewn around touch my heart in a strange way. I especially like the sewing and knitting category. Who does that anymore? Don’t these people know we have tons of cheap labor around the world to abuse – and save themselves some time.
I survey the not-so-stiff competition and the prize winners for gardening, photography, canning, pie making, and even prize winners for the best Lego creation. In small town America, I’m sure there’s a human story behind each entry.
Kenny Lake Country Fair |
Kenny Lake Country Fair |
Kenny Lake Country Fair |
 Kenny Lake Country Fair |
Kenny Lake Country Fair |
Kenny Lake Country Fair |
Up on stage, a line of starlets (pre-teen girls about Zi’s age) screech out songs through a tinny microphone. Even with my musical impairment, I could easily assess that there was not much talent – but a whole lot of heart. The audience listens while they scarf down their Italian sausage dogs topped with peppers and onions. We join them. Those dogs were good and hot!
It is refreshing and delightful to see folks having a good time with their families without all the extreme fair experience we’ve come to expect at the Del Mar Fair and other big institutions like it.
Bill is ready to move on down the road. The sprinkles also help dampen our “fair” spirit.
Back on the road again, I study guidebooks and check maps. (Glad I don’t get car sick when I read.) Bill watches the road and the ever increasing sprinkles hitting the windshield.
On the Road to McCarthy |
On the Road to McCarthy |
From the rain-splattered window, I see the long Alaskan pipeline snake its way up and over miles of mountains, slashing through forests. I am reminded that the Port of Valdez is not far from here. I want to take a photo – but it is raining hard and getting late.
We turn off on the McCarthy Road (Hwy10) and head east. The 60-mile road, once a railroad track to the towns of McCarthy and Kennecott, is a slow, unpaved, narrow washboard. I want to stop at several viewing stops – but the rain and mud nip the idea. I see fishermen in the water net-fishing. I spot what I think are salmon wheels that turn the salmon right out of the water, making them easy targets.
Our Current Ridge cabin is at mile post 56 on the road to McCarthy (meaning 4 miles out of the little town of McCarthy). We are happy to arrive -- Bill is especially happy. Not an easy drive, made more difficult in the constant rain. The car is covered in mud, making it difficult to even open the trunk without getting covered in that thick pasty stuff.
The McCarthy Road |
Our car after 60 miles on the McCarthy Raod |
We meet the owner of our cabin at her home. We thought we entered her office, but it was actually her home. She is even friendlier than all the other super friendly proprietors we’ve met along the way. We interrupt her son’s 18th birthday party in process. In spite of that, she greets us with all endorphins firing.
Our Current Ridge Cabin |
Our Current Ridge Cabin |
Our cabin, “The Chitina,” sits up on a little hill with a bed of the biggest, freshest, greenish rhubarb lining the porch. The cabin is large, comfy and a great place to get out of the rain.
We rest, then walk into the town of McCarthy – the thriving metropolis on Saturday night. McCarthy was almost a ghost town when it was discovered by a few artists and adventurers. It’s a real deal place and far from tourist commercialism.
Our Current Ridge Cabin |
Our Current Ridge Cabin |
We stop at the town museum, tucked into the old RR station and an old RR car parked nearby. The Railroad is called the Copper River and Northwestern (CR&NW). When the railroad was being built many said the initials stood for "Can't Run & Never Will." We learn what life here was like in 1900 to 1938. McCarthy was a wicked place, thriving on gambling and women and booze and other unlawful acts. Its sole purpose was to serve the copper miners’ “needs.” They worked and lived in Kennecott – a clean-living company town about 5 miles up the road, but came to McCarthy to let loose and spend all their hard earned cash.
McCarthy Museum |
McCarthy Museum |
The museum is quiet. We are the only visitors. A beautiful young woman from Colorado welcomes us. She is married to a pilot who drops hikers, mountain climbers and other explorers in faraway corners of this the massive Wrangle-St. Elias Park, and retrieves them when their adventure is over. During the summer, she and her husband come here. She studies the history of the town and watches over the museum. In return, she gets a free cabin for her and her husband. This summer she discovers her artistic talent. She is very good. I am taken by the sketches she did, using some of the town’s old photographs.
We walk through the one-horse town in light drizzle. We try to buy milk for breakfast at the General Store, but it is closed. Next, we go to the Golden Saloon for dinner. Bill orders the chicken sandwich while I enjoy the calzone. The place is packed. A band of pretty cool looking kids are setting up to entertain the crowds, but we are old and go back to our little cabin to curl up all quiet and peaceful.
We pray for sunshine! It rains most of the night – but I’m deaf and can’t hear it. Bill can! Keeps him up worrying. (There are some benefits to deafness.)
I have a strange dream about my brother who died in April of this year. George, always the jokester, came to me and said that he really wasn’t dead after all. He played a big joke on us. The dream ended with him and his signature smurky chuckle. That’s just like you George! (What’s all this dreaming about dead people anyway – something about Alaska?)
August 18 – Sunday – McCarthy / Kennecott
A steady rain greets us in the morning. I make coffee in the immaculate kitchen – even grind the beans. As I lift the coffee pot, the top and all the grounds scatter onto a previously white stovetop. After investigation, I find the pot handle is defective. Bill cleans it all up – he is a master of stove cleaning.
We drive to the parking lot outside McCarthy and walk cross the bridge for the shuttle to Kennecott. We arrive in time for the first shuttle (9 am) and pay 5 bucks each to head up the hill to Kennecott.
We eat breakfast at the Kennecott Lodge. I love that old place, built for the fancy folks, Kennecott Copper Mine’s managers and investors. The walls are lined with relics from the past and cool photos of the town residents in the 1920’s – 1930’s. The woman’s bathroom is covered with old magazine ads selling Ex-lax and soaps – the answer to all your problems. (Now I get why my parents, who paid very little attention to us kids’ health, occasionally chased us down for an enema from time to time. Back in those days, marketing portrayed constipation as serious business.)
Kennecott Lodge |
Old newspaper ads |
After breakfast, Bill and I explore the town on our own, in a constant light rain. How annoying. I take a million photos of the old red buildings. The park is doing a great job restoring these old buildings. How much they can do is dependent on funds (and sequestrations). Bits of parcels around town are still privately owned. Unlike parks in the lower 48, this park, established in 1967, is forbidden by law to force buy out of privately held land. You don’t mess with Alaskans! (I believe, in the lower 48, the owners can keep the land until they die, then it is automatically sold to the Park. Correct me if I’m wrong.)
We ask for water at the way-too-expensive Tailor Made Pizza bus and then at 12:30, we go to the Visitor’s Center (once the General Store) and listen to Ranger Jen Jackson’s talk on Stephen Birch. Stephen Birch is the guy responsible for Kennecott. Ranger Jen is another beautiful young woman – the state is full of gorgeous young women. She really knows her stuff and all the old retired guys in the audience fall madly in love with her immediately. Heck, not just the old guys, but all of us don’t want her talk to end.
Ranger Jen |
Kennecott |
Here’s some of what she said (plus some other stuff about the place that merged in my brain):
Stephen Birch, the second of six kids, is born in the Bronx around 1878. His father dies when Stephen is 10. The mom moves the family to New Jersey. A rich family of Sugar Tycoons is crazy about “Little Stevie.” He learns to be rich and powerful from them. They educate him at the Columbia School of Mines.
In his 20’s, Birch, bankrolled by his Sugar family, comes to Alaska. He is looking for investment opportunities for his backers. Although he is a civilian, strings are pulled and he becomes part of an army mapping expedition. Lt. Allen, in charge of the mapping operation, doesn’t like “Little Stevie” from the east. But Allen has no power over Stevie’s moneyed backers and well-placed friends. Not a lot of people cared for Stephen Birch. He is cold, ruthless, aggressive and tenacious as hell.
Birch sees great opportunities in Alaska. He is looking primarily for gold, but hooks up with a couple of old prospectors who stumble onto an amazing copper field up in this remote area (which later becomes the rich Kennecott Copper Mine). Birch excites his eastern connections and raises capital from folks like the Guggenheims and J.P. Morgan. Before long, Birch buys all the rights to this rich source of copper – richest in the world. After 5 years of legal battles, building a mine, a town, a railroad (which many say was impossible), the first shipment of ore (250,000 pounds of it) leaves Kennecott on March 29, 1911. The railroad car carries it to Cordova where it is transported by steamship to Tacoma, Washington and processed in a smelting facility owned by J.P. Morgan. At the turn of the century, life is very good for the robber barons. They own it all – the land, the ore, the town, the transportation system, the processing facilities and on and on. However, they did have to close the mine for a couple of years in the early 30’s when the price of copper dropped dramatically. But they ramped up again and operated it until 1938 when the copper vein didn’t have enough copper to make it worth the trouble. Stephen Birch is ruthless and cold hearted with no qualms about pulling the plug as soon as healthy profits dried up. He ran a tight ship, investing in new operations such as using ammonia to leech out the last drop of copper.
For entertainment and the social life of the town, he brings in big bands and newly released movies. There are lots of sports activities as well – an ice rink and even a gym for basketball in the winter. The local guys are resourceful and find a favorite place for a friendly game of poker in the winter. It’s in the cooled meat locker because 32 degrees was warmer that minus 50 temperatures outside.
Birch sets up a high tech hospital with the first X-ray machine in Alaska. He builds a school and hires teachers. In fact, he must hire a lot of teachers over the years. The turnover rate for teachers is high because only single women were allowed to teach. For a single woman, it didn’t take long to find a husband (if they were in the market) because all the miners (and other hired hands) were also single. The ratio of men to women was about 300 to 1 – pretty good odds. With their newly married status, both the teacher and the worker had to leave town to look for other employment.
Birch managed a huge workforce – 300 men in both mines (Bonanza and Jumbo) and a large management / engineering staff plus all the support personnel – doctors, nurses, cooks, etc. He wined and dined the rich (investors and management) and used and abused the labor. Without any laws to protect laborers, the men worked 12 hour shifts with only two holidays a year – Christmas and the 4th of July. The men are jammed 3 to a room in the bunkhouses. The bunkhouses on the mine sites (Bonanza and Jumbo) are even more packed.
At first Birch didn’t tolerate booze or prostitution in his company town of Kennecott. The turnover rate was extremely high for the workers. The town of McCarthy developed down the hill, just 5 miles away, for the purpose of providing wine, women and song for the very lonely miners. Birch tried to stop this evil town from developing, but then learned that when his men go down the road to McCarthy to catch a train out of this “God-forsaken” place and “God-forsaken” life, they end up spending all their savings on wicked ways (drinking, gambling and wicked women) and must return to Kennecott to make some more money, saving a little for another dream. It must have been quite a place!
Stephen Birch did have one soft spot. He built a beautiful house in town for his bride – called it Mary’s Cabin, named in her honor. She came from a very wealthy family and spent only a couple of nights in her lovely cabin. She issued a firm ultimatum to Stephen -- they move to Seattle or else. The Birches stay married, but she never went back to Kennecott. They have two children whom they named after themselves – another Stephen and Mary Birch. Their children are a big part of San Diego’s history, funding lots of nice things for us (like the Birch Aquarium) – so thank you Papa Birch for some of your wealth that found its way into our backyard.
After our mind blowing free Ranger Jen presentation, we walk down to sign up for a walking tour of the town offered by St. Elias Guides. We pay $25 each for a guide who is just so-so – and with only a fraction of the knowledge of Ranger Jen. We did get to see inside the anomia processing room, the power plant, and the bunkhouse. The St. Elias guide did point out other buildings such as the hospital, the School, the 14th story concentration mill (inside closed – darn). Bottom line, we end up wasting $50 and a couple of hours. The glorious sun broke through right after we paid our $50. We are trapped in a tour group, wishing we had hoofed it down to the Root Glacier. Oh well, I took another set of photos of Kennecott’s red buildings. This time in the bright sun light. I really like this place.
We catch the shuttle back to McCarthy to get some supplies. While we wait for the General Store to re-open, I dash down to check out the one shop in town while Bill makes friends with a guy painting on a large canvas leaned up against the General Store. His name is Bill Brody. His daughter was a champion, statewide cross country runner with two kids we knew from San Diego. Karma and Joy (adorable twins) lived a few doors down from us when they were four. In 1974 their parents bought a school bus and moved to Alaska. It truly is a small world. Bill’s new friend, Brody, is painting a landscape scene. He flew into a remote area to find the rocky cliffs for his oil masterpiece. However, the heavy rains cut his wilderness trip short. He summons a small plane to bring him back to McCarthy and civilization. He is adding the final touches on his masterpiece right there on the porch of the General Store where we find him. I think his painting is OK and make some stupid comments about it, given my limited experience with real artwork. He likes Bill and wants to spend more time chatting. (Probably wants me to go back to the gift shop.) I am hungry and grumpy and don’t want to hear about his new puppy so we go on our way. Later in the trip, much to my chagrin, we find Bill Brody paintings in all the museums in Alaska – magnificent big canvases all predominately placed. Turns out Bill Brody is one of Alaska’s premier artists. Many times I regret not being friendlier to him. Why couldn’t I see his amazing talent? Check out his website: www.billbrodyartist.com/bio/index.html.
Bill Brody |
Painting by Bill Brody |
The grocery section of the General Store is very limited and expensive. We nix the idea of buying something to make for dinner. For breakfast, we spring for one peach at $1.29 and a carton of milk that never needs refrigeration. (Hope we can trust it.)
We check out renting crampons for a hike to the root glacier for tomorrow’s activity. The gal at the counter is another drop dead beauty.
We eat dinner at a place called “The Roadside Potato Head” housed in an old bus. I enjoy the collection of Mr. Potato Heads and the funky, crazy art. One oil painting is a picture of a green happy alien emerging from his spaceship with a card tucked inside the frame saying: “$6,527 – no checks accepted.” A group of young, grungy adventurers are outside laughing and enjoying their dinner. I order a burger, Bill a fish sandwich. The owner offers fries on the house – his last batch of the day.
The Rodeside Potato Head |
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EXTRA: YELP REVIEW – 4 out of 5 stars:
You only have three dining options in McCarthy, a tiny (seriously -- 40 residents tiny) town in the middle of nowhere. You literally have to drive down 60 miles of dirt roads to get to this town, which is the main launching-pad for wilderness backpacking trips in Wrangell St. Elias National Park. Luckily, the options are pretty good. The Potato has damn fine food. They serve breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and apparently open really late at night sometimes, too. It's good cafe food -- burritos, burgers, fries, salads. I'm a big fan of the black bean and corn burrito, either the regular or the breakfast version with eggs. They also make a breakfast burrito with curly fries and jalapenos inside it. YUM! We also enjoyed their chile cheese fries and espresso, and everything we saw other people order looked substantial and delicious. They have vegetarian options, as well as plenty of choices for meat-eaters, although they often seem to run out of various things (and since it's so remote, they can't just run down to the store and restock easily).
It's not fancy here -- just a shack in the woods with a counter and a few picnic tables outside. A bunch of Mr. Potatohead dolls on the counter to play with while you wait for your food. But, oooh, does it hit the spot after 7 days backpacking in the wilderness, and if you start chatting with the other folks in the place, you'll meet all sorts of interesting characters. A couple caveats. First, they're sloooooooow, so don't go here if you're in a hurry. And they don't open until 9 in the morning ("And not a minute sooner," the girl told us when we were there), which can make it a little tricky to get food in time if you need to, say, catch a flight out into the wilderness at 9:30. Oh, and the folks who work there call themselves "food technicians." Ugh.
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After being served by the main “Food Technician,” We waddle down the road to the car we left in the morning, catching awe-inspiring views of the mountains, streams and glaciers. This is a piece of heaven – and it hasn’t been messed up yet.
In the sprinkles, we drive back to our cozy cabin where I pound out the journal – and Bill goes down to the office to hook into WiFi and check emails. Lovely, full day -- hoping for sunshine tomorrow.
August 19 – Monday – McCarthy / Kennecott to Kenny Lake (Copper Moose B&B)
Weather’s looking good so we eat breakfast in our cabin and again catch the 9 am shuttle to Kennecott – this time to do the 10-mile killer hike up to the Bonanza Mine before we head on down the road, 90 miles north, for the next town on the trip itinerary.
We pack up the car to start our “Hat Loosing Day.” Bill almost leaves his hat on a hook in the cabin. Later on the trail, I do lose my hat, but some kind person from the Netherlands finds it and hangs it on a branch. But I digress. Just like yesterday, we drive down to river, catch the shuttle and head straight up to Kennecott.
We walk through the town and take the trail to the Bonanza Mine. The hike is serious – about 6 miles to the mine from the shuttle stop (12 miles round trip). The grade is steep and at times covered with gravel – but the views are forever. Heaven can’t be prettier. (NOTE: Although it is a tough hike, it does not compare to the hike we took to the Harding Ice Field –that hike prepared us for anything!)
Bonanza Mine Hike |
Bonanza Mine Hike |
As we climb, I think of the poor miners trudging up these hills, probably NOT singing the happy tune “Hi Ho Hi Ho, it’s off to work we go.” They faced 12-hour shifts and earned only $4 a day (to blow in that wicked town of McCarthy). For them, I’m sure most of the time the conditions were intolerably cold. For us, it is beautifully sunny today.
We see the old mine ruins -- parts of the tram used to haul the copper down the mountain, the old bunkhouse and other abandoned debris. The bird’s eye view of the world is glorious and the wildflowers add a perfect touch to the mountainside.
We arrive at the top about 12:30 pm and eat our lunch. The sandwich du jour is, of course, peanut butter. We are the first hikers to get to the top – only because we leave earlier than anyone else. As we eat, about a dozen hardy and young(er) hikers from the Netherlands come up the trail. (I am especially grateful to the one who found my hat.) We marvel at the percentage of Europeans – many from the Netherlands – who are out on the trails. They understand the amazing rare beauty of this land of ours.
I start to take more photos when I get the evil eye from Bill. Enough photos – we have a big agenda for today and need to keep on trucking. We still have 6 miles to hike back down to Kennecott, an hour shuttle ride, and another 90 miles until our last stop in Copper Center for the night.
Here are the photos from our amazing hike to the Bonanza Mine:
We make good time coming down from Bonanza mine and wait for the 3:30 shuttle to take us back to McCarthy, where our car is parked. We arrive at our car with 90 miles left to go. 60 miles are on the rough road that once was a railroad track. Warnings about the road are printed in traveler books. Although it’s unpaved, narrow and in some parts, washboard, two years ago it was repaired. Bill can easily do 35 to 40 mph, no problem. I am sure the road has kept McCarthy and Kennecott isolated and therefore real gems. They remain little ghost towns that haven’t been ruined by us tourists.
As we drive, clouds move in with high wind and rains. We do not see any net-fishermen in the rivers and lakes which run alongside the road. We brave the weather and stop to check out the empty salmon wheels down by the river. No action with the wheels – only the cold blustery winds with increasing sprinkles.
Fish Wheel near Chitina |
Fish Wheel near Chitina |
Finally, the rocky road is behind. Bill turns north on the highway for another 30 miles. Not bad, it’s easy Alaskan highway driving. About 7:30 or 8 – in broad daylight, we arrive at the Copper Moose B&B. It’s a huge 2 story (3 counting the basement / ground floor) classy log cabin glistening in the sunshine. No one is home. We find a note assigning us to our room and inviting us to help ourselves to pie and ice cream. Nothing is locked. Nobody ever takes anything and everyone has guns – go figure.
Copper Moose B&B |
Copper Moose B&B |
We unload the car, unpack and head on down the road for some dinner. There are not many choices and unfortunately, we pick the wrong pace. I know it’s a mistake when we walk in. I go up to the counter to place my order. I am excited to see Mexican food on the tacky menu hanging overhead. Patty, the owner / cook, quickly puts an end to that notion. “All we have is burgers.” We ask what her beer selection is. She shoots another quick reply: “It’s a dry county. You won’t get a beer anywhere around here.” I eat my burger (not bad – I expected worse) while I wonder about Patty’s sad sack life.
Restaurant in Kenny Lake |
We scurry back to the B&B for our pie and ice cream. Copper Moose has great internet connections so we check emails and call Amy – all is well at home. Molly spent the day at Dr. Boyd’s Pet Resort. Zi went to her school orientation. She’s happy to be starting the 7th grade this Wednesday. Later we meet CD, the owner. He’s 74, short and stout and packed full of energy and likes to talk. He became a marathon runner at 55 and has done several marathons in the lower 48. He was a surveyor and a computer guru and a jack of all trades. He did suffer a series of 3 strokes last year – but nothing seems to stop him. We are exhausted from our very long day. All we want to do is shower and go to bed. Although Copper Moose has a great internet connection, both of us can’t access Netflix at the same time. We city dwellers are spoiled rotten.
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