The Alaska Series Chapter 2

After Valdez, we headed back North and turned off onto a paved road that then became a gravel road into the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park. Due to the perma frost and generally extreme weather in Alaska, most roads are fairly iffy. Even the highways are under construction that makes off-roading in Alabama seem tame, which is a pretty high standard of disrepair.

This road was no exception, despite the fact that it was clearly marked in the gazetteer and was an official National Park road. Nor was it marked on the map the rental company gave us as a "don't take this road or we will not be responsible for what happens road." It was pretty clear after the first 10 miles that this was not a road one should take in a minivan. But, hell, we wanted to get out and see some sights off the beaten path. Just before the good part of the gravel ended we stopped at one of the ubiquitous road side coffee stands for a mocha and a stretch. I loved these places- they reminded me of home. I think a large percentage of Alaska's population are people who left the South- and brought their trailer park compound/ junk collection lifestyle with them. This place was no exception: Dog for early warning, Check. Extra sink beside the building, just in case, Check. Extra cars for parts, Check. Three trailers in a semi-circle surrounded by a wall of junk in the rear to ward off intruders, Check and double Check. The only thing missing was a confederate flag- and that, I'm pleased to report, I never saw in Alaska.

Which lead me to wonder: What is up with all the trailers in Alaska? Tornadoes and heat in Alabama are hard enough on a trailer-- I can't imagine a trailer in a winter storm in Alaska. In Valdez there was a two story trailer hotel- for $129.00 a night and UP. (I'll have the deluxe second story room with the view, and the attached bath, How much will that be with tax?) I decided maybe Perma Frost issues? Speed of construction? Whatever the reason, it really struck me-- Living in a trailer in Alaska. Wow.

Ok, so we're traveling down this entirely iffy road. I realize after covering only a few miles in half an hour this road is going to be like a motorboat in choppy waters-- speed is key. Going slowly enough that one doesn't worry about the transmission falling out will only result in worse jouncing. Only, the road gets one in a lull and then, wham out of no where a pot hole so huge and deep you're jerking the wheel and slamming the breaks to avoid it. We crossed a wood and cable one lane bridge and stopped in the middle (traffic was, um, light.)


We continued on and somewhere, about 20 miles in, my friend spotted the first wildlife of the trip. A gray wolf. I came to a screeching halt. It was so large at first I thought it was a small black bear. Unfortunately, I didn't get it on camera, but it was a great spot none-the-less.

We forded a small stream, and then 30 miles in, began to pass businesses and homes and property for sale. I would absolutely love to own something that far out. I promise aside from the coffee place (a 10x10 shack on skids- 20 miles back) and the wool/knitting shop and the plane shop there was nothing else out there. No power polls even out that far. From the many lakes with small planes, it seemed to be a fishing hot spot to which one flew rather than drove. Talk about getting away from it all!

This lake is one where we stopped for a moment. The water was clear and no evidence of human settlement was on its shores- aside from a small firepit at the little cut in where we stopped. There were literally dozens of small lakes along the way-- with such creative names as 1 mile lake, 5 mile lake, and clear lake.

After a while we had seen enough and turned back. It was a nice detour- do it in a plane if you ever want to go. Next, to Tok.