Date: Mon, 31 Aug 1998 20:05:22 -0800
Reply-To: Chris Wyatt <cwyatt@GI.ALASKA.EDU>
Sender: Vanagon Mailing List <Vanagon@vanagon.com>
From: Chris Wyatt <cwyatt@GI.ALASKA.EDU>
Subject: last summer trip of '98: Fairbanks-Valdez
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Hi Volks,
I'm pleased to see some upbeat trip reports on the listserve today. Here's
my contribution:
Alina and I woke up Saturday 8/29 and surveyed the buffet of chores we
needed to tackle. Most of these were to prepare our new house (new to us)
for its first winter with us in it. Check the insulation on the wellhouse,
pickup our belongings in the yard before they get buried by snow, etc. But
the biggest job was to build a corral for the dog yard. I had taken Friday
off from work to fell and peel about a dozen spruce trees from which to
make three dozen fence posts, and we had three dozen holes to dig.
But the night before we had been over to the neighbors' for volleyball and
BBQ (not the North Carolina definition of BBQ; back home we would have
called this a cookout), where I had some Copper River red salmon which was
so good that I didn't share it with my buddy who had grilled it (with a
thick marinade of soy sauce, toasted sesame seed oil, lots of fresh garlic
(minced), lots of fresh ginger (grated), a smidge of brown sugar, and fresh
basil leaves). So on Saturday, all I could think about was reproducing
that fine entree, the only problem being that there was no fish in my
freezer. I got on the phone, called around until I found the "one-call"
reservations place in Valdez on Prince William Sound, and the girl there
set me up with a morning half-day charter for coho on the "Lucky Lady". I
tossed sleeping bags, dogs, guitar, and empty coolers into my '87 Syncro
GL, and within an hour we were on the road for the coast! Fairbanks is the
northern terminus of the Richardson Highway; 360-something miles away is
Valdez. The Rich parallels the southern half of the Alaska Pipeline for
its entire length, more or less.
The trip down was not too rushed, since I had about 15 hours to make it to
the dock. We hit the last ATM for 360 miles, bought a fishing license and
the last gas for less than $1.50/gallon, and managed nearly 24 mpg before
getting a few gallons (at $1.78 each) in Glenallen. Stops included the
Food Cache in Delta Junction for the mandatory corndog (Chris) and ice
cream (Alina, the vegetarian who was clearly along for the ride), and the
Hitchin' Post in Glenallen for a burger and veggie nachos. It was opening
day of moose season, and the road hunters were out in force, I tell you
what. There is something a little Easy Rider-esque to passing a
slow-moving pickup with a rifle hanging out of each window. Though the
scenery along the way is world class, we had seen much of it before and it
was a bit overcast, so we didn't stop much. There were some cool clouds
pouring off the Black Rapids glacier in the Alaska Range, and a Super Cub
took off next to us as we passed the Paxson Roadhouse. Mt. Hayes, the
Delta Range, and the Wrangell volcanoes were all cloud capped, and it was
dark when we climbed Thompson Pass and descended into Valdez. The ocean
smelled great! We parked by the docks, walked the dogs one last time, and
collapsed into our sleeping bags.
Sunday morning found me walking the docks at dawn, looking for my boat.
When I found it, Capt. Steve invited me aboard, and introduced me to his
brother/deckhand Randy, and my charter-mates Fran and Jackie. We cruised
out of the small boat harbor and made our way towards Perkins' cabin.
About half way to the point we slowed and began trolling for silver salmon.
It didn't take long before a rod straightened at the release of the
downrigger, and Randy shouted "FISH ON!" I was closest, so I pulled the
rod from the holder and reeled in the first of 15 or so fish we caught.
They put up a nice fight, and each time I reeled one in I was warmed by
the adrenalin, since it was about 45 degrees and breezy on the water.
While cruising in Valdez Arm, we saw one sea otter and one sea lion. Fran
and Jackie spent a lot of time hanging out in the cabin of the boat, and I
got to reel in more than my share of the fish we caught. I ended up with
my limit of 6 coho, the biggest at about 12 pounds. Though we were the
first boat out, eventually the water was crowded with dozens of boats of
all sizes. The captain later told me that Alina could have come along on
the trip. I told him that she would have enjoyed the company and the
scenery, but the fish clubbing was not her cup of tea. She spent the
morning shopping and sampling Valdez coffee shops, and when she met me at
the dock Randy was almost finished cleaning the fish. I iced them down,
tipped the deckhand, and we headed to Mike's Pizza for some lunch before we
started for home.
The weather had been great all day, and it held out the entire way back to
Fairbanks. We enjoyed great views in Thompson Pass, and stopped at
Blueberry Lake to give the dogs some exercise. This is the area of the
Chugach Range where they hold the extreme skiing championships and ice
climbing competitions in the winter and spring, events I have yet to
witness. The termination dust reached almost to the road at the top of the
pass; it's already winter up there. I slept as Alina drove us to Paxson,
where we fueled the van and admired what the new owners have done to the
lodge there at the eastern end of the Denali Highway. The Wrangells were
cloud-free; we tried to scope out the best route for a ski ascent of Mt.
Sanford this winter. The Deltas and the Hayes Range were out, providing
the best views of them I've seen in my five years in Alaska. They say La
Nina will bring heavy snow to the Interior this winter; I hope it comes
early and bridges the crevasses solidly for climbing season in the spring.
We stopped at Fielding Lake in the Alaska Range to eat the rest of the
pizza and feed the dogs. There was a cow and yearling bull moose in the
lake at sunset, munching on whatever it is they munch on, with southbound
ducks swimming about their knees. We watched them for several minutes, and
left wondering if the hunters would find that young bull this week.
Further up the road, we slowed to avoid another pair of moose, which
trotted down the road ahead of the van for several seconds (this was the
highlight of the trip for the dogs). And I can attest that Alaska is
nearing the peak in the snowshoe hare cycle, because there were thousands
of them along the shoulder and carpeting the gravel turnouts, and here and
there staining the pavement. I mean, it looked like something out of a
Hitchcock movie. I managed to avoid squishing any of them, much to Alina's
approval, but it wasn't always easy in the Syncro! The bunnies were at
various stages of transition from their summer brown to winter white; some
had white feet and heads, and looked like they were wearing little brown
suits.
It was getting pretty dark by the time we went through Delta Junction, and
the moonlight on the Hayes Range highlighted them in a way I had not seen
before, though I've gazed at the mountains a thousand times. I admired
that view on my left for most of the 90 miles to North Pole, where I turned
north towards our place on Chena Hot Springs Road. I was pondering making
room in the freezer for my bushel of salmon, when I noticed what I thought
at first to be a horizontal plume from one of the power plants in town.
When it began to pulse and brighten, I recognized it as the aurora
borealis, the earliest showing that I have ever seen by weeks. I'd never
seen it in September, let alone August. I shook Alina awake, and we
watched it explode until the entire sky seemed alive with the pale
green-white glow. Then it collapsed into a single ribbon running east-west
from horizon to horizon, with a bright green top, white center, and pink
base. It waved and rolled and twisted, and we joined the few other cars in
pulling onto the shoulder to take in the show.
We got home around midnight, and I spent a couple hours wrapping the
fillets and steaks for the freezer. The spruce poles were still there, and
hadn't taken the initiative to dig their own holes. The van deserved a bag
of oats, or at least a fresh helping of Mobil1, since it covered the 700
plus miles in 36 hours without a single complaint. That was the first trip
we had taken since it turned 100k a few weeks back, and the highlight of
what worked out to be a busy homebound summer for the most part. But I've
got a bunch of fish to remind me of the best weekend of the year so far,
and if it lasts until spring, and I can get away to Moab for the Syncro
Safari, I'll throw a salmon bake for anyone with a Volkswagen story.
Cheers,
Chris Wyatt
'87 Syncro GL
Fairbanks, Alaska
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