Ode to the State Bird

"There's not a single mosquito  in Alaska. They're all married and raising very large families."

Alaskan bumper sticker.

'Nuff said.

Farthest North Packer fan?

I come from Bronco country home of the orange and blue superbowl champions.  Alaska doesn't have an NFL team yet and the stores up here seem to stock Seattle Seahawks attire so that must be who most Alaskans root for.

When we were driving towards the Dalton Highway which takes you to Prudhoe  Bay before coming to a rather abrupt end at the Beaufort  Sea which is part of the Artic Ocean, I came across an Adopt A Spot Highway sign that proudly proclaimed that this particular stretch of highway was being kept clean by the "Farthest North Packer Fans". When I took the picture I also checked my GPS  coordinates to document this momentous occasion.

65 degrees 7 minutes North latitude and an altitude of 1,190 feet marks the claim of these diehard cheese heads. Now, Greenbay, Wisconsin has been known to entertain some pretty frosty conditions but it intrigued me to find loyal fans of the green and yellow so far from home.

So it got me to thinking - why doesn't this "Great Land" as Alaska refers to itself not have an NFL  team of its own? The state is chock full of great names for a team. Chicago may have the Bears but Alaska has the Grizzlies and Polar Bears. Denver may have them Broncos, but here they have Caribou and Muskoxen  (OK, even I wouldn't want to cheer on a team called the mighty Oxen). The list goes on and on - there's  Moose, Wolves, Wolverines, Whales, Eagles, and my vote getter - the Halibut. And heck, if the fightin' Alaska Halibuts can't win football games that's OK cause they're still good to eat which is more than can be said for those cheese curd things they brag about in Green Bay.

Still, I don't think Alaska will be getting a pro team anytime soon and it's not just the problem of what to name them. I might have mentioned (over, and over, and over) that it can get a little chilly up here at about the same time the football season commences. I checked to see the coldest NFL game ever played. It is referred to as the Freezer Bowl and took place January 10, 1982 as the San Diego  Chargers took on  the Cincinnati  Bengals in the 1981 AFC Championship game. Temperature for the game? A balmy 9 degrees below zero. Heck, 9 below wouldn't get Alaskans to throw another log on the fire or even close the window. Would the macho NFL be up for something a wee bit colder - say in the 30-60 below range? They talk about it getting so cold tires freeze into squares so I can only imagine what would happen to the poor pigskin at those temps. You think 'Deflate-gate' was bad - just wait for 'Icegate' where receivers are knocked unconscious as the frozen ice football careens off their helmets. Of course I'm being silly, none of this would happen because the QB couldn't get his fur lined mittens off fast enough to actually throw the ice bomb anywhere. And how about the poor cheerleaders? It may be sexist but no one wants to see gorgeous women all bundled up in mukluks and anoraks and bulky fur hats. And let's not forget the fans. Fairbanks, where I am now, boasts about 36,000 folks with a total of nearly 100,000 within a hundred square miles. So they might be able to just about fill a stadium but with that many people all seeing their breath at 40 below forget about  Freezer Bowls, it would be more like the Fog Bowl. The announcers wouldn't even be able to see what was happening on the field.

So I guess Alaska and pro football won't be connecting anytime soon. Those 'Farthest North Packer Fans' can continue to root for their favorite team. It gets me to wondering though; where lives the 'Farthest North BRONCO Fan'? If anyone knows and by chance he (or she!) Is up this way I'd love to look them up. As I close I'll dedicate this to Steven L. who is a part of the wonderful Help Desk at the company I retired from and a diehard Packer fanatic and to Ms. D. Jones, perhaps the best unsung fan in Bronco Nation. If you ever move north there's still some unclaimed stretches of tundra and permafrost available for cleanup.

To see how the students at the University  of Alaska/Fairbanks celebrate the cold click here.

Fairbanks reached

Alaskans do pride themselves on an independent nature...

The road into the US  goes through some very pretty country. Both the US  and Canada actually have their border stations somewhat away from the real boundary between the two countries. At the boundary there is a nice display and the border is clearly marked by a clear cut of trees stretching  as far as the eye can see in both directions.  Getting through US customs was straightforward and from there you have a drive

into the town of Tok, Alaska. Fortunately we had beautiful  weather  for this leg. We spent the night at a Alaska state campground just outside of Tok and then the next day moseyed our way halfway to Fairbanks before stopping at Quartz Lake state recreational  area. Quartz Lake is popular with local Alaskans who flock to the lake to fish due to its close proximity to fairbanks  (roughly the same drive, but fortunately not the same traffic, as from Denver to Lake Dillon. We also stopped in Delta Junction which is the technical end of the Alaska Highway.

We're  staying at the Chena River State Recreation Area in Fairbanks which is nice save for its being in close, very close, proximity to the Fairbanks International Airport which seems to be pretty busy with your typical passenger jets along with a lot of vintage, but still flying DC-3's and DC-6's as well as a whole mishmash of private aircraft such as the ubiquitous Piper

Cubs which at this time of year sport big fat balloon tires or floats for landing on lakes and rivers. In a couple of months they'll switch out the floats or wheels for skis and continue to land on the same lakes and rivers once they freeze solid. They tell us a Piper Cub can take off in as little as 140 feet.

The temperature has been anywhere from the 50's to high 70's but I'm not sure I'd want to be here in winter when temps plummet to as much as 60-70 degrees below zero. Google the university of Alaska/Fairbanks and you can see pictures of the student bodies posing in briefs and bikinis next to the UAF temperature sign showing modestly chilly readings in the 40 below range. Either the students are smart enough to not pose at 60+ degrees below or perhaps the temperature sign gives up registering at those frigid readings.

Start of the dirt section on the Dalton Highway

We took a drive north of town to see what the infamous Dalton Highway looks like. It starts out paved but past the town (and I use the term "town" euphemistically) of Livengood it's 456 miles of dirt road until you reach Prudhoe Bay. About a third of the way up you cross the Artic Circle which at a minimum is our goal after experiencing what these dirt roads can dish out. We'll  keep our fingers crossed!

I think this little guy has misplaced his dust goggles

I'm in love...

I'm in love but my wife is OK with it. I've finally found a tire I could wrap my arms around that might stand up to the road conditions up here.

Unfortunately my love is unrequited as the object of my affection just won't fit my current lifestyle choices. She would truly turn my humble toyota  sienna into a monster van but not sure she'd even be considered street legal back home. But take a look; you have to admit that this is what being a tire is all about. What a beauty. I'd have taken her with me but I couldn't even lift the tire iron to remove her lug nuts. Still, she'll remain in my dreams as the tire that got away. May she roll forever in happiness until our paths meet again...

Bear with me...

Prior blogs have featured the ursine cast of black bears that we have seen plenty of this trip. More elusive have been our attempts to view the black bears more formidable relative the grizzly. Brochures speak to there being approximately 6,000 grizzlies in this neck of the woods so we knew if we were patient we'd  eventually catch a glimpse.

The road from Whitehorse towards  Haines Junction and then on to Destruction Bay sees the Vistas become more expansive  with mountains to the left and lake after lake to the right. And yes, finally the anticipated grizzlies.

We were planning on spending the night in the campground in Destruction  Bay but when we pulled in the sign indic ated only hard shelled campers and RV'S were allowed due to lots of bear activity. As we continued on we noticed a blackish bump off to the side and as we got closer saw it was moving. Sure enough our first grizzly sighting was upon us and this time we hit the mother lode as it was a sow with two cubs

looking like they were just a month or two old. They were partaking of the lush grass and dandelion  smorgasbord and really couldn't have cared less that a couple of gawker were being quite rude by watching them eat. Grizzlies are very distinctive up close from black bears having a pronounced shoulder hump and a

somewhat dished face. While momma bear was going back for second and third helpings the two cubs were doing nothing as much as simply playing with each other and enjoying a spectacularly beautiful day.

When I was working at Pinnacol I would share some bear stories with my coworkers.  One, Doretha, who I miss seeing every day, feels that roughing it is when the hotel doesn't have a hot tub and wouldn't be caught dead sleeping in a tent in the woods. I always told her the golden rule is to never hike alone in bear country and that rule number two is that you don't have to outrun the bear, you just have to outrun the person you're hiking with. So for her I'll share this last picture that we took in a gift shop after crossing into Alaska because as much as we wanted to set a spell with momma and her cubs we eventually had to bid them adieu and continue down the long road.

Big Wheels

On our last day in Whitehorse we had the chance to visit the good ship Yukon, a stern wheeler that was used to ferry men and supplies (and yes, the occasional lady) up and down its namesake river for near on five decades beginning in about 1903 if my memory serves me. Steam powered, it was fueled not by coal which was not readily available up this way but instead by wood measured in cords. For those of you who have never had the infinite pleasure of cutting, splitting, and stacking wood a cord is a standard measurement 4 feet wide by 4 feet high by 8 feet long. As a kid growing up in New England, New Hampshire to be precise, I've hacked at enough wood to know the backbreaking nature of the manual labor involved to handle just one cord. The stern wheeler would use 40 cords to get downriver from Whitehorse  to Dawson City and another 140 cords to plow it's way back with its load of ore from the mines.  The downstream trip was about a day and a half with the haul back taking closer to three long days.

There were two classes of passengers on the Yukon. 2nd class rode, slept, and ate on the lower main deck along with the freight and supplies. Sleeping accommodations were a cot and a blanket or you could simply roll your bed roll out on the hard wooden deck. 1st class folks fared much better with private cabins on the upper deck, meals served by white uniformed waiters, and the ability to watch the passing scenery from the cozy and comfortable observation salon far, or at least somewhat, removed from the racket of the steam engines on the main deck driving the huge stern wheel.

I would have loved to have journeyed on the steamship Yukon but alas operations ceased in the 1950's as better roads, trucks, and airplanes stole the business away. It was a very short season as well as each year the Yukon made about 15 round-trips during the 4 1/2 month time frame when the river wasn't locked in ice and snow.

Closing my eyes as we wander the now grounded ship I try to imagine the sound of steam whistles and the hiss, hiss, hiss of the engines but instead all I hear are the sounds outside of the modern automotive era. In my mind's  eye though I can picture the excitement and majesty of seeing this noble vessel rounding the bend of the river as it approached the next landing full of men seeking to make their fortunes  in the great north.

A river runs through it

Up here there are rivers and lakes galore, enough to satisfy even the pickiest of beavers. One of the major rivers of course is the mighty Yukon flowing for 1,900 miles from its source to the sea.

I'm told that the Yukon begins its life only 25 miles from the Pacific way down south in the coastal mountains near Skagway. It then flows north and west until exiting the land near a small coastal village on the Bering Sea called St. Thomas.

One of my wife Sophie's aspirations for this trip was to set the hull of her kayak into this great northern river. In Whitehorse we coordinated a drop-off with a company called the Kanoe People and true to their word they indeed drove us about 20 minutes up river to a put-in below a dam in what felt like the middle of nowhere. Wishing us bon voyage Julie, who had driven us, was off in a cloud of that infamous dust that is so plentiful up here. Maybe that's why the Yukon River is a dark brown as it too chokes on the aftermath of all the road construction.

Anyway, we head downstream and the first thing you notice is this river has quite a current to it and the river is wide enough that there are multiple currents and eddys swirling every which way. Signs in town warned not to swim due to strong eddys and undertows which is reassuring since we are currently dependent on about an eighth inch of polyethylene to keep our body parts safely out of harm's way.

The hours drift quietly by until way too soon we're at the take out where we had parked our car on the way up.

There are folks here, just like in Colorado, who are in Colorado, who can take things to extremes and in a couple of days some of the best canoeists in the world will be racing their boats from Whitehorse  to Dawson City. Granted that's just a short jaunt of around 400 river miles which they'll cover in about 3 days time. And if that's not enough I hear tell of another canoe race out of Fairbanks in July that's 800 measly miles. Ah, what fun they think of up here. Nice thing is they'll have 24 hours of daylight to do it in.

For Sophie and I our little trip was a good introduction to this mighty river. Not sure where next our kayak hulls will get wet but any time on a river is good time.