On the road with Jim

Chena River Crossing – Alaska

Last evening Anne and I drove to a river crossing our map said was a good place to fish. It was around six in the evening and we figured there would be another ten hours of daylight left. When we got there, Anne sat in the car reading her Kindle book while I assembled my fly rod.

I had started casting along the shore to the right of the car then, not having any luck, moved upstream to the left of the parking area. I made a couple of casts when I heard a car door close. I glanced back to the car, thinking Anne had gotten bored and wanted to go back to camp.

It wasn’t. Instead it was a young slender woman about medium height with long black hair walking towards me. She wore a smoke blue silk blouse over black skinny jeans tucked into shiny black boots. Then I noticed her dark brown eyes as they looked directly at me and she smiled. She seemed familiar, like Janet Lee; the pool player.

She carried something in her hand and it took me a moment to realize it was a fly rod case, large enough for a two piece rod and reel. When she stood next to me, I’d lost track of my cast and hit the back of my head with my wadded up fly line.

“Do you mind if I fish the bank below you?” she asked with a deep sultry voice. My mind tried to respond with something like “If it pleases you, my dear,” but I swear it came out as <curly> “Why sointley”</curly>. She then gracefully descended the muddy slope to the river’s edge. She remarked how she had caught two graylings the other night. Then she looked puzzled and told me that this wasn’t her spot, because it was closer to the downed log upstream and began to climb back up. I offered my hand in help, but she refused and walked up the bank as if there were stairs. When she stood on the grass, her boots still shined without a trace of mud.

She looked for a path through, and then around the aspens blocking her way. Then she slipped around the end one, and then . . . disappeared; vanishing without a trace. I looked for her for maybe a minute before realizing the Goddess of Fly Fishing visited me. After exhaling and releasing my gut, I began reeling in my limp fly line from the grass, then slowly walked back to Fritz . . . and Anne.

I put away my rod and reel and sat in the driver’s seat letting out a huge sigh as the door closed.

“What was that all about?” Anne asked.

I turned to her and excitedly blurted, “Oh thank God you saw that. I was afraid that I was hallucinating.”

Fairbanks – Alaska

We’ve spent the last three nights in the Fairbanks area and I’ve needed it as I’ve become road weary and needed the rest. During that time we’ve visited with Santa, got Fred’s truck serviced, fixed the inverter on Fred and Deb’s trailer, I scrubbed down Fritz, and I slept in for a couple of mornings. Tomorrow, we leave the Alaska Highway and head south for our ultimate destination; Denali National Park.

Cheena River in Fairbanks — The Chena River runs through the heart of Fairbanks and has a great river walk along its banks.

Fairbanks is not the large city I imagined. It’s a little town of thirty thousand encircled with expressways. Those are freeways with stoplights every other street. The University of Alaska is on the north-west corner of town while old town is centered like a bulls eye. The Chena River runs east to west through the center of town.

One of the stranger museums that I’ve run into is Fairbanks’ Ice Museum. I suppose you can learn a lot from ice cubes.

The gang went out today to Pioneer Park, an outdoor museum with lots of displays and information, but I wasn’t up for it. Instead I went down to old town, or as they’re called these days, “The Historic District.” Don’t get me wrong, I’m a history buff, but I also like to see what’s happening today. I spent a couple of hours wandering around the shops, restaurants, and museums before checking out the river walk for a couple of blocks.

Fairbanks Downtown — In downtown Fairbanks, there are bars, restaurants, shops, galleries and museums to visit. Almost all of the people parked on this street are from . . . Alaska.

When I came back to camp, I scouted a fishing location indicated on our Gazetteer, and it took a while to find it. It’s been raining on and off for the last couple of days, so the river is high and running muddy. I may still try my luck later today because I need the practice before we get to Denali. Wish me luck.

North Pole – Alaska

It’s July 4th, and as you all know, that’s an important day because it’s Queen Anne’s birthday. As far as she’s concerned, the nation celebrates her birth with fireworks. She also believes in Santa Clause, she can’t help it.

So imagine what happened as we drove into Fairbanks yesterday, and passed by a forty-foot statue of the jolly elf glaring down at the expressway. “Santa! I want to go see Santa for my birthday.” Jeez! Kids!

Anne With Big Santa — The forty-foot carving of Santa looks more menacing than benevolent when you drive past on the expressway.

We spent the afternoon at the Santa Claus House, which sells Christmas decorations and fudge all year-long (those are two things that I believe will rot your brain if you have too much). Little kids are running around the store house, giggling and pointing at all the pretty things on display with wide excited eyes. Anne was leading them. The only problem was that Santa doesn’t work on July 4th. It’s a federal holiday, but he did have all of his minions there. So now we have to go back tomorrow.

Deb and Sally at Santa's House — Deb and Sally take a break from Christmas object shopping, and cool their heals

In case you’re wondering, we didn’t make a wrong turn and wind up in at the real North Pole. This is the name of the town east of Fairbanks; sort of like Tempe is to Phoenix (without the heat). We missed the street and had to drive through some of the town, where they have decorations on the candy cane light poles. Normally Anne will get out of the car and yell a people who don’t take down decorations, but she found this charming.

Deb Tries a Con on Santa. — Deb tries to convince Santa (Fred in this case) that she deserves something other than coal for a present.

The Queen was also afraid that there wouldn’t be fireworks for her birthday in Alaska. After all it’s a foreign country. It is a possibility, because of the constant light. Fireworks don’t show up well during the day. Not to worry, Alaskans substitute light with noise. Firecrackers have gone off around us for the last two days.

We had a birthday dinner at a Triple D restaurant (Dinners, Drive-ins and Dives). We ordered family style (with one you get egg roll), and now we’ll be eating Chinese every other hour for the next two days. But there wasn’t a cake . . . or the annoying happy birthday song (far ra ra). Fortunately, Anne unwittingly solve the problem. She bought a piece of fudge.

Anne's Birthday Cake — Anne gets a surprise birthday cake complete with rocket candle, while Sally sings Happy Birthday.

You see, in Watson Lake, Deb and Sally bought a cake sparkler candle for just this occasion. They were desperate and down to an orange as an alternative, until I remembered the piece of fudge. So we jammed the sparkler into the candy and surprised her with a serenade. Good show indeed.

Chicken – Alaska

Chicken Overlord — The fourteen foot sculpture of a chicken sits on a hill overlooking the town. Next to it is a signpost designating the mileage to worldwide towns having chicken related names.

Chicken Alaska is a wide spot in the road, and the road was muddy when we traveled it. There are three parts to the town, two RV Parks and beautiful downtown Chicken, which I photographed in one shot. In spite of all that, the town’s people have a good sense of humor and don’t take themselves seriously.

Downtown Chicken — This panoramic shot captures all the stores in downtown Chicken,

Chicken started out as a gold camp and today there are several active claims being worked. It also is a convenient break on the grueling Top of the World Highway and so the reason for the two RV camps.

Chicken Stock Stage — This is the stage used for the annual music festival called Chicken-stock (get it? Woodstock – Chicken-stock).

Chicken was given that name because no one could agree on how to spell ptarmigan (they obviously didn’t have spell check like I do), so they used the plentiful game bird’s nickname instead. Ptarmigan is still the favorite bird to hunt, but you can’t make as many puns.

Chicken Poop — This is a shot of the public restrooms in Chicken. The private ones aren’t better, just smaller. We chose our RV park, because they had the only flush toilets in town.

We just spent one night in Chicken where we had dinner (fried chicken) and breakfast (chicken and waffles). The restaurants do have beef on the menu (chicken fried steak) if you prefer red meat. If you don’t want chicken or beef, there is a variety of omelet and other egg dishes available on the menu.

Attack Chicken — This is the coup that the chicken in Chicken produces all the eggs for the town’s restaurants.

After breakfast and purchasing a souvenir tee-shirt that says, “Quirky drinking town with a gold mining problem,” we continued on the muddy road towards Tok (rhymes with Coke) Alaska. As we left town it started to rain again. However, twelve miles out-of-town the road was paved, and the same forces that splattered mud on The Ritz, now began scrubbing it off. By the time we reached our destination, the front of the trailer was dirty, but not caked with mud. Hallelujah!

Lord of the Chickens — This sculpture was outside one of the restaurants we visited. Besides this one, there are small chicken details fabricated out of scrap metal pieces.

Top of the World Highway – Yukon

We left Dawson City via the Yukon Ferry. It runs 24 hours and is free, so how could we go wrong? If there are caravans on the road, it could take hours for all of them to cross, but we were fortunate that none were in town. The ride takes less than a half hour, but driving on and off the boat is tricky. There isn’t a permanent dock, so the ramps just let down on the dirt road and there’s a gap that can cause damage to the vehicles. Fred had to re-position his cargo box, Sally got some trim damage and our front trailer foot was slightly bent when we drove off the ferry.

Dawson Ferry — The ferry links Dawson with the Top of the World Highway; and their golf course evidently.

We took some time to fix things and then started up the Top of the World Highway. That’s the name for the road from Dawson to Chicken, Alaska. It got its moniker from the how the trail follows along the three thousand foot mountain ridges.

Dawson City from the Top of the World — In only a couple of miles, we were high in the mountains and got a last look back at Dawson City.

Top of the World View — The views from the Top of the World Highway are spectacular on a clear day.

The road climbs steeply from the Yukon bank, past the golf course, and in our case, into the clouds. The views from the road I’m sure are both spectacular and scary at the same time. For us, it was raining, so we drove in and out of the clouds. Every once in a while, the clouds would lift revealing how steeply the mountains dropped into the valleys below us.

Another Highway View — As we drove along the road, we would drive in and out of the clouds.

Other people warned us that the road was not the best, but we decided to press on regardless. The rain made the gravel base even worse, filling the pot holes and washboard ruts with mud. We drove like it was a slalom course, trying to find a smoother section.

The Gang at the Border Crossing — This time it was the US Customs agent that volunteered to take our photo when we crossed into Alaska.

It was slow going, taking almost four hours to make the eighty mile journey to the border. After clearing customs, we started down the US side on brand new, shiny black pavement. It had bright yellow center lines with white lines down the edges. Our walkie-talkies were full of chatter about how much we loved this road, when about five miles later, it turned into . . . mud. Not gravel, just a plain old sloppy muddy road . . . with worse washboards and more pot holes.

Fritz Leaves Skid Marks — By the time we reached Chicken, the vehicles were caked in mud.

When we pulled into Chicken after another twenty miles, we got out of our vehicles and assessed the mess. The Ritz had two caked on mud stripes down the front that looked like skid marks. I had no idea how I was going to scrape that mess off, but by then, we just wanted to get in out of the rain and get something to eat.

Dawson City – Yukon

It figures! Of all the towns that we’ve visited in Canada so far, the one that I liked the best is our last. Well, Dawson is the kind of town tailor-made for tourist . . . sort of like Tombstone or Jerome in Arizona, but with more than one street. There’s a good mix of new and old. Shops, restaurants, and exhibits are distributed throughout the town. The streets aren’t paved and board walks keep pedestrians boots out of the mud.

Theater House and Hostle — Dawson City takes pride in maintaining its historic buildings and makes sure new buildings fit into the period.

Because it’s situated on the Yukon River, it served as a supply and shipping depot for gold rush minors. Stern-wheelers would bring supplies and people up from Whitehorse and the mines would send gold and silver ore in return. It’s one of the last places you can catch a paddle-wheeler for a river cruise.

You get the sense that the merchants play all of their cards. One of the department stores we visited looked like a normal tourist trap, with trinkets and tee shirts up front, but towards the back were household goods and appliances. When the tourists disappear, the locals get you through the winter.

Probably the iconic Kissing Houses is the post card shot with which you are most familiar. I can testify the buildings still stand in 2016, well over a century later. There are several structures like them in town. They lean because the builders placed the heated building’s foundations directly on the permafrost. The buildings warmth melted the ice and then the footings sank. Today’s building codes prevent damage like this.

Jack London's Cabin — Deb views the inside of Jack London’s cabin. Restorers moved the cabin 80 miles to Dawson after discovering it up river.

Tucked way back in the town are the cabins of Robert Service and Jack London. They weren’t neighbors because London’s era was in the 19th century while Service didn’t live here for another 20 years. Actually Jack London’s cabin is a replica discovered 80 miles away. Historians reconstructed it using some of the original logs while a duplicate cabin in California has the rest of the logs.

We had a good day here and we’ll be leaving via the river ferry to the ‘Top of the World Highway’. It got its name because it follows the ridge-lines. We’ll spend tomorrow night in Chicken, Alaska; a three building town that has more chicken puns than the world needs. I wonder if we’ll eat at KFC.

PS: As I publish this post, the time is 10:44pm, and the sun has not gone down.

Bonanza Creek – Yukon

A couple of days ago, my friend Jeff wrote in a post comment that he had noticed strange snake-like formations along each side of the road near Dawson City, and he wondered if I could find out what they were. As you drive into Dawson, it’s obvious what he was talking about, because they’re everywhere. When he asked, I thought I would just reply with an answer, but since these ‘strange’ formation are an interesting part of the Yukon history, I’ll turn it into a full post.

The formations that he noticed are huge piles of river rock and they make ten foot mounds. The tops of the piles have and undulating pattern and they sweep back and forth. Some of them are newer with no vegetation growing, while others are already covered with trees.

Dredge Piles — The piles of river rocks are the tailing of a placer mining dredge.

The piles are simply river bottom dredged from the creek bottom and piled along the bank. It was one of these contraptions that made these piles:

Dredge No. 4 worked the Bonanza Creek until operations stopped. It’s now undergoing full restoration at its last place.

This is the No. 4 Dredge on Bonanza Creek and is under going full restoration. During the short placer mining season a crew of four would run one of these babies twenty-four hours a day. The would dredge up the bottom and sides of rivers, process the load on board, then dump the tailing out the other side. When they ran, they could fill up a normal dump truck every three seconds. At the height of the gold rush, there were twenty-seven of these eight story monsters running at the same time.

Crews positioned them at the mouth of a water-way and they would work their way upstream. Before they could start work, all the vegetation was stripped from the land. If you lived in the way, you were out of luck, because mineral rights trumped property rights. Then the permafrost had to me melted, by pumping steam into the ground. Finally the dredge would crawl its way up the creek at a rate of a foot a day.

Strip mining at it’s best, Ah? The units were 95% efficient, so the area is still crawling with miners working active claims. Fred and I visited the original claim today, which is a park called the Discover Claim, and wondered if any gold was left. We both doubted it, but picked up a shiny rock in the creek anyway.