Tam's Journal, July 24-27

July 24: In the morning, we wake up in the bus, eat more than our fill of chocolate chip pancakes, do laundry, and clean up as best as we can.  Afterwards we both spend time talking to Jay and his wife, Debbie, along with their friend Bob, who lives down the road.

They're a wonderful resource of entertaining stories and advice.  It's 3:15 when we finally set off.  We wind up and down over gradual hills with lakes, clear streams, and rounded green mountains that break up the spruce-birch forest.  Around Tok the road flattens out, and it's like a runway. The good road, an amazing tailwind, and pancake fuel make the ride go by quickly.  When we arrive in Tok, I can't believe we've gone 60 miles.

July 25: We wake up and bike 1.8 miles back the way we came, to Sourdough Campground.  We can't pass up all-you-can-eat pancakes for $10!  Together we consume a total of 45 good ol' sourdough pancakes.  The lady working there also makes us veggie sausage and hot chocolate.  While we're eating, we meet three guys from New Zealand: Sam, Sam, and Cam.  They've been driving around having adventures in an old green van with a lego man as mascot on the front.

We share stories over breakfast and talk a bit of politics with the pancake chef.  All of this amounts to a true, sourdough, Alaskan roadhouse breakfast, the perfect way to say goodbye to this fascinating state.  Afterwards we go food shopping and fly out of town propelled by yet another tailwind.  About 57 miles up the road, we stop at a free campground in the Tetlin National Wildlife Refuge.  The campsite is beautiful, and just when we thought our night couldn't get any better, we have the pleasure to meet some other travelers down by the lake.  Two are cyclists on a round-the-world trip, and two are from Switzerland exploring Canada and Alaska in a van.  As we talk, we are entertained by a mother duck and her twenty adorable ducklings out on the lake.

July 26: At 8:40 or so, we meet our new biking friends Billy and Nolwenn for breakfast by the lake.  We share with them the last of our pancakes, and they share Japanese Green Tea and oatmeal with fresh raspberries.  It's a delicious way to start the day.  It's already 10:30 or so when we begin to ride.  Our road takes us through more spruce forest and lots of hills.  The clouds are hanging low, so there's not much to see besides the occasional lake.  Our first bit of civilization is the Tetlin NWR Visitor Center.  We find it thoughtfully designed, just like the campsites and displays also associated with the park.  We fill up water and eat lunch. Just seven miles up the road, we reach the Alaska-Canada border.  Only U.S. Customs is here.  They have a huge building with a yard for the dogs, and the road passing through is watched by large, gray cameras from every angle.  There's no Canadian Customs here.  It's 20 miles down the road, just outside the town of Beaver Creek.  Those 20 miles are on bumpy chipseal, but the road flattens out quite a bit, and the sun finally comes out through the clouds.  On the way, we see multiple cool birds and meet two cyclists on a tandem bike.  They have plans to travel up to Deadhorse, where we started.
At the Canadian border crossing is a large, red maple leaf and a small, brown building.  I'm sure there are cameras, but they aren't large enough for me to notice them.  A nice guy checks out our passports and asks a few questions.  In a couple minutes, we're through.

Once in Beaver Creek, we make a couple of stops.  #1 to purchase and eat an amazing peanut butter cookie, #2 to purchase a grapefruit, and #3 to get a map and information on the road from the visitor's center. We decide to head to the first campground, 10 miles out of town.  At this point, we've been warned multiple times about the construction on this road, and we're not sure to expect.  What we find is a combination of gravel, mud, and rocks, but for the most part it's not too bad, and we make fairly good time.  At the end of the day, we're both happy to find a cute campsite with a big picnic table and a view of the lake.

July 27: When we emerge from our tent, the sky is cloudy but there's no rain. Yay!  We ride for a bit on bumpy gravel then get to a section where we must ride in a pilot car for 3 km or so.  After this, there's only a bit more gravel, then we hit chipseal.  Never have I been so happy to ride on chipseal.  We ride through more forests and lakes.  In one of these lakes, we see two regal trumpeter swans and three of their gray, fuzzy cygnets.  It's a treat to see them so close.  Cruising along, we notice two cyclists coming up behind us.  It's Chris and Berel, both studying medicine in Germany and biking around Alaska and Canada on their holiday.  They're friendly guys, and talking with them makes the miles fly by.  When they stop at an RV campground to get coffee, we keep riding.  For lunch, we stop at a "rest area," really a pullout with a bathroom and a small deck over a lake with some info boards on it.  The boards explain how this valley is, and has been for years, an important migration corridor for birds and other wildlife.  Even ancient tribes in the region used this corridor between the mountains to travel.  Now we are too!  After lunch, we start talking to a young couple from France who have been driving around Alaska.  They share water and cookies with us!  Back on the road, their red van passes us and stops.  We think they might be waiting to say something to us, but then we realize that there's a mama black bear and her two adorable cubs on the other side of the road.  I'm apprehensive about being so close, but the mama bear ignores us as we bike slowly past.  On a road with very little traffic, suddenly there are several cars and multiple RVs all stopped to take pictures.  Down the road, the construction we thought was over, isn't.  I'm convinced we are riding Canada's version of the Dalton Highway.  Even though the road isn't great, we make good time due to a generous tailwind (we've been so lucky with these recently!) When it gets late, we set up camp in an open yard next to a ramshackle auto shop.  Its owner looks like he's lived here for 50 years and hasn't showered once, but says that it's fine for us to stay here for the night.

The Magic Bus

We found our own magic bus.  After 60 or so uneventful miles, we wound up in Slana, a mile or so in on the Nabesna Road, one of two roads that leads into Wrangell-St. Elias (the McCarthy Road is the other).  There wasn't much there, and on our way back out to the main road, a man in an approaching car waved for us to stop.  "Y'all have somewhere to stay tonight?"  Hesitating, as this is not a question we hear every day, we responded that no, we didn't really know, but right now we were headed to the market just up the road.  "I own that place," he said, "and we have a little place for cyclists to stay.  Come on over; I'll be back in a minute."  He drove off.  As I mentioned yesterday, we must be the luckiest people in the world.  Right before he drove up, I had been kicking myself for not looking up on the interwebs where the store was in Slana; maybe we could have saved ourselves a couple of miles.  Of course, then we wouldn't have met Jay.  Those extra few miles are always worth it.

Jay Capps is a true Alaskan.  He hunts, smokes, fishes, does everything himself, and has a nice streak a mile long.  We haven't met his wife Debbie yet, but he says she's even meaner than he is.  After we walked in, Jay showed us to the bus.

I was expecting a leaky contraption with a rough floor, but this was no ordinary bus.  Four beds, a microwave, a toaster, a coffeemaker, pots and pans, a propane stove, a wood stove with hatchet and maul, a table with a booth, and various food items and whatnot that past residents have left.  Jay has even covered the sides with thick metal and replaced the door with a bearproof one.  "Do these work?" I asked Jay, pointing to the lights.  He looked insulted.  "This is Midway [the name of the store]," he said proudly.  "Everything works."  And indeed it does.  

Residents of the bus are encouraged to write something.  The numerous notes and drawings on the walls and ceiling add an incredible amount of character and warmth to what might otherwise just be a bus.  Many of the notes are from cyclists who were/are in the midst of their own Alaska-Argentina trip.  Tam added some artwork to the wall above the "kitchen" table:

Check out these pages from other cyclists who have stayed here:

http://worldonabike.com/1000-americans/1000-americans-jay-and-debbie-midway-services/

http://worldonabike.com/trip-reports/north-america/alaska/day-32-34-august-12-14-2008-tok-cutoff-to-tok-about-sun-mountains-lost-pants-life-in-a-bus/

http://downtheroad.org/Alaska-Canada-USA/pictures/1Alaska_Yukon_Canada/3Glennallen_Alaska_Beaver_Creek_Canada.htm

http://coleccionandoatardeceres.blogspot.com/2013_06_01_archive.html?m=0

(the last one's in Spanish but has some pics of the bus)

Jay also gave us free reign of the inside bathroom, shower, and expansive store, "Just write down what items you take, and we'll figure out money tomorrow."  He also pointed out that, because he was leaving the back door open for us, we could rob him blind, but that doesn't seem to bother him.  "We go off the honor system," he says.  

Tam and I took showers then cooked up a delicious amalgamation of pasta, garlic, and the remaining veggies we had from Kennecott.  Mmm!  Then we made some chocolate chip pancakes.  Having a kitchen is great!

Back on the Bikes

We are so lucky.  A few hours after beginning our efforts to hitchhike out of McCarthy and Wrangell-St. Elias, we were picked up by some really nice folks, Janet and Jim.  They and their friends Dan and Nanette, who were following in a car behind J&J's RV, had stayed almost two weeks in Kennecott at a friend's cabin.  We very much enjoyed discussing Alaska, wildlife, and all kinds of other things with them, and had they only dropped us off in Chitina, at the end of the McCarthy road, it would have been enough.  But they agreed to take us all the way to Glennallen!  We wouldn't have to backtrack at all!  This was especially exciting because the Edgerton Highway from Chitina back to the main highway, the Richardson, is pretty much all uphill.  We couldn't believe our good fortune, that these generous folks were willing to take us, and that our bikes could just fit into the RV with all the wheels removed.  Somehow it gets better.  We all stopped for lunch at Liberty Falls, a roaring slide surrounded by a cool spray and clear turquoise pools.

It turns out that Nanette and Dan are from Decatur and Roswell, right near where I grew up in Sandy Springs!  Nanette also taught at a summer camp that I attended when I was very young; I don't remember much, unfortunately, but it sure is a small world.  She's also a bird bander, something I dabbled in briefly, and makes incredible jewelry from repurposed bike parts.  Did I mention Dan and Nanette are both cyclists, too?  I had bought some chainlink earrings a little while ago for Tam, but she had tragically lost one of them to the black hole under the passenger seat in her car.  When I mentioned this to Nanette, as well as my intention to get Tam new ones at some point, she brought out her stash and gave Tam a beautiful necklace!

Chain links surrounding French gemstones below, quartz necklace from Wiseman above

Very cool people indeed.  Friendly, generous, kind... the world would be better off with more like these four (including Nanette, even though she's taking the picture).

After transitioning our gear back to our bikes and putting the bikes back together, we had some awesome Thai food from a little place that was recommended to us by Spencer, the guy we went packrafting with.  The restaurant was in a bus.  In the past few days, we have ordered pizza, fries, and now Thai food from vehicles, and all of it was extraordinarily scrumptious.  We rode about 15 miles out of town, passing our first sign for Canada (213 miles!) and me getting the first flat of the trip from a staple-like piece of metal in my tire.  We're camped right now at a scenic overlook above the Copper River with Mts. Sanford and Blackburn, both over 16,000 feet, dominating the horizon.  Life is good.

Adventures in Wrangell-St. Elias, July 17-21

July 17: It's a gorgeous, sunny day. Something we never take for granted around here. The first part of our hike follows the trail that runs along the ridge by the glacier.  The woods are bursting with colorful wildflowers, and around us all sorts of birds are chipping and singing.  To get down to the glacier, we follow a steep scree slope and then hike along the lateral moraine.  A little ways down the glacier, we find Erie Lake, now drained and full of icebergs.  Glacial lakes such as this one are formed when the ice blocks the flow of water from streams.  When the ice blockage is breached at some point during the summer, the lake drains in an exciting event called the glacial lake outburst flood, or Jokulhlaup (pronounced YOKE-awl-aup).  We make camp above the lake with a gorgeous view of the Stairway Icefall, 7,000 feet of towering ice.

July 18: For the first time all trip, we leave our tent set up and head out wih day packs.  We spend a wonderful morning exploring the icebergs below us.  They are reminiscent of the jumbled boulders in Joshua Tree, but made entirely of ice.

In the afternoon, we hike up towards the icefall and find many spectacular glacier treasures: a huge blue pool probably hundreds of feet deep bordered by sheer cliffs we don't dare get too close to; smaller blue pools, also super deep, that we can get close to and gaze into, wondering how deep they go; many rivers gushing through the ice; and waterfalls that thunder down into the deep unknown. 

Fun fact: the glacial ice near the icefall is 2,000 feet deep in places! 

Our favorite discovery is a perfectly clear blue lake only a few feet deep that we can walk down to. Across from us is an ice cliff from which two small waterfalls pour down into the lake. The scene looks absolutely tropical, except it's all made of ice.
After an incredible day of exploration we retreat to our tent on the grassy knoll and simply enjoy the view. 

July 19: We hike out from our lake on a scree trail that we discovered as we watched another group hike easily along it. Then we head back out across the moraine. Behind us is the roar of two rivers cascading out of the mountains. All around us are the more subtle sounds of the ice dripping and stretching, like ice cubes as you pop them from the tray. Occasionally rocks tumble down from their perches on the icy slopes, and every once in a while there is a great thumping from an unseen basement: rocks tumbling and churning far below. 

Out on the white ice of the glacier it's quieter. The loudest sounds are our crampons scraping and puncturing the ice below our feet. Always there is the rush of water; sometimes a small stream, other times the louder rush of a waterfall tumbling into the deep blue depths. Around us rise the mountains, silent, stark and jagged, but clad in the softest coat of velvet green brush. Behind us now is the icefall, cold crystal in the sun. The peaks around it are coated with fluffy snow reminiscent of icing on a cake. Simply spectacular.

In the afternoon, we hike along the medial moraine. There's good traction here provided by the rocks frozen into the ice. We navigate many crevasses, streams, and a moulin before heading back across the white ice and finding a campsite in Donoho basin. Donoho is a mountain peak that separates the main flow of the Kennecott and Root glaciers (we've been hiking on the Root). It looks rather like an alligator- the two peaks as the alligator eyes and the long snout forming the basin between the glaciers where we are camped. 

July 20: It's 12:30 before we motivate ourselves to get going because it's raining again. Miraculously, the moment we emerge from the tent the rain stops and it's beautiful for the rest of the day. Thank you weather! It's easy to get down to the glacier, and from there we start crunching our way through the ice towards Kennecott. This part of the glacier has few big crevasses but it is quite hilly. We walk up a ridge of ice only to see another large sunken bowl as if the glacier was a poorly baked cake that caved in. It's not long before we can see a waterfall pouring down from the cliff we just hiked down. It's a three tiered affair, a thunderous white veil tumbling through the grey rock. What an incredible place we are in. 

It doesn't take long to finish our walk across the glacier then back along the trail into Kennecott. Once in town we treat ourselves to a giant M&M cookie from the lodge and an incredibly delicious pizza from Tailor Made Pizza. Pizza from a bus never tasted so good. Afterwards, Betsy from Kennicott Wilderness Guides lets us set up camp behind their guide shack- a perfect little tent spot that can only be reached through a "magical porthole," a small tunnel of rusted metal left from the mining days. 

In its day, Kennecott was a bustling mining town that successfully mined huge quantities of copper. Now many of the buildings are being rebuilt and preserved for their historic value. Outside the town, high up in the mountains are the remnants of the old mining buildings, now falling into disrepair but still quite impressive for their machinery and locations.  Miners back then, in the early 1900s, received two days off a year: July 4 and Christmas Day.

July 21: An amazing day of packrafting! First, let me introduce Spencer, packrafting expert from Kennicott Wilderness Guides who happens to be good buddies with two of our good friends from High Trails, Austin and Jay! He's a fun and friendly guy whose enthusiasm immediately got us psyched for paddling and exploring the area. Our day started with a small tour of McCarthy and some amazing cheesy fries from another restaurant in a bus: The Potato. Then we suited up in our dry suits, blew up our pack rafts with inflator bags and headed out onto a lake at the bottom of the glacier. Having never used a packraft or worn a full dry suit, all the gear is novel and exciting. 

Our first few hours of packrafting are on the lake, getting used to the boats and checking out the melting ice and mesmerizing rock fall. Spencer says that watching the glacier is his version of TV out here. We approve. The next couple of hours are spent on the "training grounds," a series of small rapids, each of which drains into slow moving flat water. It's a perfect place to practice whitewater skills such as ferrying, peeling out, and catching eddies in our new blow-up boats. Here we are also joined by Candace, a wonderful lady paddler who offers helpful advice and encouragement. I particularly enjoy their acronym for getting out of eddies: SALI: speed, angle, lean, icebergs. It's the same sort of thing I learned in Maine- but here we are literally paddling through small floating ice bergs. It's crazy! Thank goodness for the dry suits and warm sunny weather. 

After a lot of practice, and a bit of river scouting, Spencer determines that we can run a section of the Kennicott (the silty river flowing from the Kennicott glacier) with a class III rapid. We are pumped! It's an amazing paddle with super fun wave trains, and neither of us goes for a swim. 

This wonderful day ends with us cooking dinner and watching whitewater videos at the little house Spencer shares with several of the other guides. They have piles upon piles of fresh veggies from an organic farm in Fairbanks- dropped off by the family of one of the guides. We are instructed to eat as many as possible. What a treat! 

Thanks to everyone at Kennicott Wilderness Guides for your kindness, generosity, and for all the fun! 

Wrangell St-Elias, Getting Started

I had thought we were going to enter the park yesterday, near Glennallen, but we ended up coming to McCarthy, some 120 miles out of the way, because it's the best place to get into the wilderness.  For all the hassle, it's already been worth it.  We met some friendly, welcoming people yesterday: Danny, Robin, Glenn, Tom, and Ted, who are spending their free time in Chitina, right outside the park, to help Tom build a cabin there.  Cribbage, Oreos, showers, and the softest, most comfortable lawn we have ever slept on.  Fantastic!

We had decided the night before to hitchhike the McCarthy Road, one of the two roads in this 13-million acre wilderness, rather than take the full day to ride it, but the meager flow of traffic made it tough.

 After about three hours and maybe six cars having passed, a nice couple picked us up and brought us along to the road's end at the tiny village of McCarthy (pop. 40 or so).  There is a lot of copper mining history around McCarthy and Kennecott, the only other town in the region, but as I'm typing on a phone, I won't delve into that.  Google it.  It's interesting.

With the help of Kennicott Wilderness Guides, we planned a five-day stay in the park.  The next four days will be for glacier and mountain exploration (we rented crampons), and on Monday we will be going packrafting!  It will be very different from our previous two trips in Alaska, and to say we are excited is an understatement.

The view from our front door!  Glaciers, mountains, and a clear sky with a setting sun.  Life is good.  And somehow there's superb cell service too.