Laura Olin ... a real Alaskan sourdough

Monday, July 16, 2001

Depart to Seattle

Pike Place Market

Inn At The Market

We left behind a continuing construction project at our house and picked up Grandma Olin promptly at 8:00 am. We had been so preoccupied with summer activities; basketball camp, horse camp, as well as home renovation that we hadn't been able to anticipate the trip. We all just piled into the car and head for the airport.

Our Northwest Airline flights connected through Minneapolis and continued on to Seattle. Luckily, we avoided a major swath of thunderstorms due to arrive at the Twin Cities later that afternoon.

As we approached Seattle, the clouds became progressively more dense. Only one landmark was visible. Thrusting above the clouds to the south was the massive peak of Mt. Rainier (14,410 feet). A stream of clouds turbulently blew eastward across its face. Our plane popped though the gray and we could see beautifully pine covered rolling terrain and huge inlets and bays of water spreading in all directions, creating small islands and peninsulas.

We landed at Sea Tac airport and soon realized that we forgot to rent a car. Tam called Getaway Travel while I corralled the kids and luggage. Alamo had a deal on a silver Pontiac mini van. It would cost us a fortune to rent it; thanks to drop off charges in Vancouver, Canada, but it was our only option. Tam slowly pulled out of the airport while I scanned the map. She was really worried about her speed until she realized that the 100 on the speedometer were in kilometers per hour. We were in a Canadian van. The kids thought this was cool.

Before we could get to our hotel, the skies opened up and dumped heavy rains. We drove past Safeco Field (where they had played the Major League Baseball All Star game six days earlier) and cruised through the waterfront warehouse district in a soggy downpour. Predictably Seattle.

The harbor area, known as Pike Place Market, was an amazing combination of real hard-working fish market, souvenir shops, gourmet restaurants, and boutique hotels. All of these were located in original, hundred year-old brick buildings. Our hotel, Inn At The Market was tucked into a brownstone niche right in the middle of this district. On one side was the public fish market, on another was a gourmet Japanese restaurant. Two T-shirt shops flanked either side.

The skies began to clear, giving us the opportunity to walk this fantastic area. Laura and I walked about twenty blocks and ducked into all kinds of stores along the way. I bought some fine Asian paper (which would be needed a project the next day) and Laura took me to a storefront with all kinds of frilly clothing. We almost went in, until I saw the edible panties in the window. This gift shop was part of the local Déjà vu strip joint!! Laura sometimes scares me.

The two of us met Mom, Tam, and Michelle at Wild Ginger for dinner. Considered the best restaurant in Seattle, we felt a little underdressed but came hungry. We ate all sorts of exotic oriental seafood dishes - family style. While others sitting around us were eating one satay with an aperitif, we were shoveling in scallop and Thai noodles, garlic prawns, curried dungenous crab, and grilled duck like typical midwesterners.

Tam and Mom rolled back to the hotel. I took Laura and Michelle to Niketown where I bought them a couple of final birthday gifts before turning in for the night. When we returned, we found Tam in Mom’s room (#419), which had a fabulous view of the harbor and the jet ferryboats arriving from the many islands across the sound. By eight o’clock, we had all collapsed into our beds, unable to do one thing more.

Tuesday, July 17, 2001

Bruce Lee Grave

Pike Place Fish Market

Seattle Space Needle

Ride The Ducks In Puget Sound

Crab Pot

Seattle was first settled by frontiersmen in 1851 when they arrived at Alki Point, but soon a larger settlement developed in the protected waters of Elliot Bay. The city was named for Sealth, a friendly chieftain of the Duwamish and Squamish tribes (and was paid $16,000 for the use of his name.)

The city prospered, but by 1865, a noticeable void persisted. The busy bachelors had no brides, so eleven brave and eligible young ladies were recruited, and soon, another fifty-seven arrived. In 1889, the entire city was destroyed by fire when a painter’s glue pot boiled over. It was rebuilt with stone and steel. In 1893, the transcontinental railroad reached Seattle. The 1897 Klondike gold rush brought more people and the population expanded six-fold.

At the turn of the millennium, Seattle’s population was 516,300. It was still growing, with new glass office buildings and seaside condos rising from its rolling hills. It had become a home to Birkenstock bohemians of all types. Everybody seemed a little weird, but in a friendly way. We felt welcomed by all.

Spitting rain greeted us as we awoke bright and early. A low gray layer rolled over the western mountains in dark, threatening waves. Soon, the clouds thinned and the sidewalk dried. The sun began to peak between them and shine on Bainbridge Island on the other side of Elliott Bay.

Laura and I left before breakfast on a quest to pay a tribute to a fellow martial artist. Bruce Lee was buried in Lake View Cemetery atop Capitol Hill. He moved to Seattle from Hong Kong when he attended the University of Washington. Bruce Lee is considered by many to be the greatest master of his art of all time. He founded a new philosophy of Kung Fu called Jeet Kune Do and brought his immense talents to the silver screen, redefining the industry. 

The tremendous work ethic and perfectionism that made Lee successful unfortunately hastened his demise. He died of a cerebral edema on July 20, 1973, at the age of 33. The mysterious circumstances of his death added to his legendary status.

After an adventurous roller coaster drive on Seattle streets to find the cemetery, we eventually located the gravesite. It was located atop a hill between two large pine trees in the center of the memorial park. His dignified, rust-colored granite marker featured a laser engraved photo. It read, “Bruce Lee, November 27, 1940 - July 20, 1973. Founder of Jeet Kune Do.” A granite slab on the ground, shaped like an open black book read, “Your dedication continues to contribute to our personal inspiration”.

Laura sat quietly on a granite bench that faced the marker. She knew Bruce Lee well from the many movies in which she had seen him in action. After reflecting for a few minutes, she placed 85 cents (all she had) on the monument - adding to the other flowers, coins, and messages that had been left by others.

The two of us made several grave rubbings for our Tae Kwon Do instructors and gave Bruce one last salute before heading out.

Beside Bruce Lee was the grave of his son Brandon who was accidentally shot to death while filming the cult classic martial arts movie The Crow. This additional tragedy only added to the legend of Bruce Lee himself.

The morning hubbub at the Pike Place Fish Market was like being at a carnival. Men in orange rubber hip waders hawking the days catch - often throwing salmon and halibut around like hot potatoes. Glistening headless fish resting on pristine crushed ice. Baskets of fresh peaches, cherries, and Washington apples tempted the masses of passersby. The market was alive with sights, sounds, and smells. Michelle described it as “just like Wall Drug - only better”. That was a major compliment from a kid. Laura reached into a box with live crawfish and posed for pictures - for strangers. 

We regrouped at our hotel before striking out for the Seattle Space Needle. The Seattle landmark was built in 1962 for the World’s Fair. A 520-foot high ultra-modern structure, it resembled a giant plate on a tripod. It made world news when Seattle experienced a 6.8 earthquake in March of 2001. The space needle swayed for hours after the event, but suffered no damage (other than a wine bottle that fell off of shelf in the revolving restaurant). When we reached the observation deck, the clouds had lifted and we could see for miles in all directions, although all Laura wanted to do was look straight down at the amusement park at the base of the tower. Michelle helped things greatly by repeating constantly that she was bored. Experience taught us that our only remedy for this was to go to the nearest McDonalds restaurant. Fortunately, there was one directly across the street and we hammered some french fries while we ran to our next adventure.

 

Gloria had gotten a recommendation from somebody on the flight out that we positively had to experience “the ducks”. The ducks are old World War II amphibious vehicles, painted white, that carried tourists around the city on a tour before splashing into Puget Sound for a quick boat ride. So we decided to give it a go! 

We boarded at twelve noon, climbing up the stairs at the rear of the vehicle (which was pulled up during the drive) and we sat as if riding a school bus on short bench seats. I noticed rows of life preservers above our heads - signaling that this was no ordinary tour. Our heavy-set and bearded driver introduced himself as “M.T. Pockets” and met each of us individually - remembering each passenger’s name. He then pulled out a yellow plastic duckbill “quacker” and instructed us on how to quack back during the tour. He began what was to become a ninety-minute comedy routine, infused with local knowledge of Seattle. This was augmented with audio clips on the PA system featuring disco music classics of the 1970’s. In no time, the entire tour group was laughing and quacking as we rode through downtown Seattle. Many passersby would wave and quack back at us like some twisted ritual. It was truly hilarious!!

We drove along the docks, as M.T. would pick on some poor passenger as the butt of some sick or dumb joke. He would even have the drum and cymbal audio clip to punctuate each “ditty”. He drove us by Safeco Field - during an afternoon game - and pretended to catch a fly ball, with a glove no less - while driving down the street. We continued on to Lake Union in the Fremont District where the driver pulled onto the boat ramp and away we went! He drove our duck into the lake for a quick tour of the harbor. M.T. showed us old ferryboats and floating homes. A small wooden shack he pointed out was worth 1.1 million dollars.

The driver told us that these ducks were experimental vehicles and only 1,800 were planned to be built. By the end of the war, however, the GM plant in Flint, Michigan had produced more than 22,000 of them. Our duck seemed solid in the water … a little “tippy” when going through someone’s wake, and with a top water speed of 5 miles per hour. Our tour concluded with every passenger clapping and quacking to “disco duck” as cars passed us honking and waving.

We rode the monorail from the Space Needle to City Center where we ate a late lunch and walked back to our hotel. Grandma stayed there while we returned to the Pike Place Market for more shopping. Here, I had my first celebrity sighting. I met Jeffrey Smith, television’s famous Frugal Gourmet, as he drove by in his motorized cart. He looked haggard and worn out - perhaps reflecting his life since being pulled off the air amidst controversial rumors of philandering.

Later, we walked down to Pier 57, where we ate dinner at the Crab Pot. In typical Olin fashion, we sat down and ripped into the loaf of sourdough like a bunch of starving animals. We bought the family “Seafest” where they covered our table in paper and dumped three large buckets of food on it. Then, they gave us each a hammer for our only utensil. It was delicious! Messy. But delicious! Laura smashed everything she ate to a pulp. One time when Laura swung, a big chunk of shell landed on my back. The waiter came back to fill our water glasses and was shocked that we ate everything in less than ten minutes. His reaction, of course, made us all feel proud.

  

 

Finally, we waddled over to the IMAX theatre and watched Mount St. Helens erupt on a giant 60-foot screen. I think all of our stomachs felt like erupting too!!

Wednesday, July 18, 2001

Drive To Vancouver

Mulkiteo

Ferry To Whidbey Island

British Columbia, Canada

Vancouver

Only two days into our vacation and nobody wanted to get up!            

Tam, Laura, and I eventually wandered down to Pike Place Market for breakfast at the Athenian Restaurant. No seats were available at the bay windows, so we sat at the bar … the same bar where Rob Reiner and Tom Hanks sat discussing dating in the nineties in the movie Sleepless In Seattle.

 

Our waitress was a red-haired elderly woman, wearing a light blue sweater and a pearl necklace. She looked to be at least eighty years old and she was working her buns off. We got to know her personally. Her name was Dora Otto. She was born in North Dakota and she told us that she worked everyday since she was nine and a half years old. She said that she moved to Seattle when Boeing hired her sixty years ago. Dora had been waitressing there for the last twenty. She explained how the film crew edited her out of many scenes in Sleepless and she pointed out the exact seats where the actors sat and how she poured them coffee. She also claimed to be in a movie with Richard Gere.

We checked out of our hotel after breakfast. The Inn At The Market was an excellent experience, and we would certainly return again in the future.

The Pioneer Square is at the southern end of downtown Seattle. It was a flavorful neighborhood of art galleries and antique stores. We browsed several oriental antique stores and found some nice items.

With our shopping concluded, we headed north toward Vancouver. As we waved goodbye to the Emerald City, Laura and Michelle shouted, “See ya Seattle!!”

After grabbing a quick lunch at Burger King in Mulkiteo, we continued on route 525 to the ferry terminal. We paid $14.50 and pulled into a waiting lot. Before long, a ferry arrived and dropped off 89 vehicles! I drove our minivan into the mouth of the ferryboat. We were the second car aboard and we sat in the car until we saw other people get out and go upstairs to the top deck. Not expecting much, we wandered up there too. It was awesome! Great seating with wonderful views. Candy and pop machines. Video games. It even had a full-scale restaurant with hamburger grill.

The ferry we were on was named the MV Kitittas. In twenty minutes, we had successfully traversed the northern end of Puget Sound.

Whidbey Island welcomed us with massive pine groves alternating with breathtaking views of the western straits with the massive Olympic Mountains in the distance. The most spectacular spot was Deception Pass, a narrow and steep break between Whidbey and Hidalgo Islands. Useless trivia: Whidbey is the second largest island in the United States - the largest being Long Island.

The famous San Juan Islands were visible only briefly from Fidalgo Island before we turned inland.

Cutting back toward Burlington on route 20, we could see the mountains in the North Cascades National Park silhouetted against a now cloudless sky.

The Peace Arch was a large concrete structure, similar in shape to the Arch de Triumphe in Paris. It straddled the U.S. / Canadian border and served as an embrace of friendship between the neighborly nations. The visitor can walk under the arch and pass from one side to the other. Unfortunately, customs still existed only one hundred yards on either side of the monument. Being the good, decent, and honest people that we were; we were waved through after only two or three questions.

Our wonderful day was tainted slightly by massive traffic tie-ups that added at least an hour to our drive time. By the time we pulled into the Metropolitan Hotel in downtown Vancouver, we were all snapping at each other. We ate room service dinner and everybody was happy again.

The Baldwins showed up and the party (from the kids point of view) began in earnest. Pay per view movies came on. The minibar was emptied. Screaming and shouting and running and laughing late into the night. Vancouver would never be the same again.

Thursday, July 19, 2001

Chinatown

Grandville Island

Queen Elizabeth Park

Snoop Dogg

Don Jose Navaez first explored Vancouver in 1791, but it was Captain George Vancouver who sailed into Burrard Inlet in 1792 while searching for the Northwest Passage.

A wild outpost sprung up as the 1858 gold rush attracted fortune seekers from around the world. The city continued to grow because of its strategic location. In 1887, the first passenger train belched its way into Vancouver. By 1900, more than one hundred thousand people lived here.

Vancouver is described as “west coast with oriental essence”. The city’s Chinatown is second only to San Francisco’s in population.

Vancouver is not the capital of British Columbia (its Victoria) but it is certainly the centerpiece of the province.

At 9:00 am, the Olins, Cunninghams, Baldwins, and Grandma Gloria boarded our landsea bus for a tour around Vancouver. Our driver’s name was Jeff. Our buses’ name was Oscar. Jeff began by driving us to Stanley Park, a thousand acre public park - the largest in North America. The park is actually a peninsula that protrudes into Burrard Inlet and faces the very modern skyline of Vancouver. We stopped at several points in Stanley Park for photos for photos of the city, the harbor, the Vancouver bridge, and several totem poles newly erected for tourists.

Tam and Laura with April Cunningham

Next, we went to Granville Island, a converted warehouse district that is now an artist colony. Workshops, studios, and galleries were all scattered around this small island. Thousands of tourists meandered shoulder to shoulder aimlessly down the narrow brick streets. It was densely crowded.

Jeff then drove us to Shaughnessy Village where he pointed out the house featured in the film Little Women and Air Bud.  Around the corner, he pointed out the simple mission style home where Robin Williams lived in the movie Jumanji.

As a matter of fact, Vancouver had become a mecca for moviemaking over the years.  Check out this list:

Cousins, Another Stakeout, and Carnal Knowledge were filmed at Granville Island.

Free Willy, Double Jeopardy, Happy Gilmore, and Jumanji were filmed at Stanley Park.

Rocky IV, Rumble In The Bronx, and First Blood were filmed in Chinatown.

The Accused, Timecop, Roxanne, and The X Files were filmed downtown.

Jeff told us that Al Pacino and Robin Williams were in town filming Insomnia, based on the Stephen King novel.

Our tour continued to Queen Elizabeth Park and the Bloodel Conservatory and botanical gardens. This stop gave the kids an opportunity to stretch their legs as they ran around the gardens. Soon, we headed back toward downtown through Chinatown, which was very run down. Jeff explained that many of the Orientals had moved to Richmond (a few miles south) leaving this section to slowly deteriorate. Still, it is alive with activity. Many small shops and street vendors were selling mushrooms, ginseng, and fresh fish.

Gastown, adjoining Chinatown, was a tourist haven, full of eating and drinking establishments. More tour buses here than cars. It was one of the oldest areas of town because it was on the harbor. It was also there that the great fire began, destroying the entire village of Vancouver years ago.

Jeff concluded our tour by making a pass down Robson Street - a huge retail district that he described as the Rodeo Drive of Vancouver.

Michelle, Laura, and I ate Vietnamese food at the Pacific Centre Food Court, across from our hotel and then all of the kids went for a swim. Tam and I made a quick trip to several oriental antiques galleries where we bought a couple of small items.

Late in the afternoon, we noticed the presence of film crews hanging out in the front of our hotel. We learned that world famous rap singer Snoop Doggy Dog was staying at our hotel and was performing at the General Motors Centre. By the time we finished dinner at Planet Hollywood and returned to the Metropolitan, the lobby was at a fever pitch. Apparently, the music network MUCH MUSIC had held a contest where the winner could select his favorite performer, meet the artist, and receive two VIP passes to a concert. The winner, a tall acne-faced eighteen year old (with LOSER printed all over his forehead) chose Snoop Dogg. The entire TV film crew waited at the elevator for Snoop to walk out and greet this guy. Every time the elevator door opened, the camera lights came on and the crowd of twenty or so surged forward with excitement.

This was the moment, the door opened. People squealed in anticipation. Out came Snoop Jim Baldwin. Lights out. Rewind.

The doors opened again. Nope. It was a parade of doped up groupies, including Snoop’s two fashion-model girl friends.

Finally, the elevator door opened and out from behind several massive bodyguards stepped Snoop Dogg. Tall and thin, wearing a basketball jersey, and with several afro-braids sticking straight out, Snoop Dogg eased out into the room. The video DJ and contest winner were in a lather and didn’t notice the glazed look in the artists’ eyes, or the gigantic orange-colored cocktail in his hand, or the foot-long cigar. Snoop gave a disinterested handshake and tossed two backstage passes to the winner and walked out to his awaiting limousine - totally ignoring the kids and other autograph hounds. The party was over, blank slips of paper were thrown into garbage cans, and lessons were learned about the reality of celebritydom.

Everybody eventually settled into his or her rooms, getting ready for the big event tomorrow. All aboard! 

Friday, July 20, 2001

Celebrity Cruise Ship Mercury

Thunderous blasts of subwoofer marked the triumphant return of Snoop Dogg to the Metropolitan Hotel at 4:01 am. This was followed by the arrival of the police who were able to bring the return of quiet at 4:17 am.

At 9:00 am, I was waiting for my car to be pulled up by the valet while Snoop Dogg’s support crew played basketball on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. Some of them looked like they hadn’t slept all night.

I tied up loose ends this morning,  sending home some items, drop off rental car, and pick up last minute cruise items.

At 2:00 o’clock, we checked in at the Vancouver cruise dock and came aboard the Celebrity Cruise ship Mercury.  We had a “royal suite” room number 1040. Laura and Michelle were amazed at the grandeur of it all. For Michelle, the highlight was the basketball court. For Laura, it was the multiple pools.

 

Precisely, 5:45 pm and we were underway; backing out of our slip slowly as seaplanes navigated around us. Before long we were gliding under the Lion’s Gate Bridge and out into the Straight of Georgia.

All 13 of us were seated early for dinner. The dining room was located at the rear of the ship. I sat facing the wall of glass windows and watched Vancouver slowly shrink into the distance while I buttered my roll. Simply awesome!

Our stateroom view was to the east, facing the Coast Range Mountains. The mountains are 8,000 to 14,000 feet tall, most covered with snow.

As evening blanketed us, the lights of small waterfront villages glimmered along the shoreline. Mercury continued to plow ahead while we all collapsed in our stateroom.

Saturday, July 21, 2001

Queen Charlotte Sound

Massage From Hell

Princess Royal Channel

Greenville Channel

Baaaap! Baaaap! The ship's horn blasted loudly. Sliding open the drapes, I saw nothing but white. A massive cloudbank obscured everything except twenty yards of water beside the ship. Mercury was swaying more than usual in the open waters of Queen Charlotte Sound. This did not bother the girls at all who slept well into the morning.

Tam, however, mistakenly signed up for a “combat” aerobics class. The instructor busted her butt for an hour but Tam never gave up. In the corner, I practiced Tae Kwon Do forms.

Today, we would be at sea all day, so we took advantage of some of the ship’s amenities. For example, Tam had a facial and I had a “detoxing algae-sage scrub and massage”. I wanted to try something different. This would certainly qualify.

First of all, I walk into the treatment room and find a thin foil sheet on the table. I am told to strip and put on paper underwear (or should I say a paper Speedo), which I promptly ripped trying to put on. 

Lesley, a young Scottish masseuse, started by rubbing my feet then she pulled out this really sharp bristled brush and shredded my skin with it. She proudly announced that the brush was made of cactus thorns. She then mixed up some stuff made of freeze-dried algae and sage. Also, Lesley added some drops of some kind of oil that she said was so potent that it would eat my skin if applied directly. As she slathered this mud on my entire body, she told me that she could see that my body was full of toxins.

Then she wrapped me up like a giant burrito in the foil sheet and covered me up with heavy blankets. The feeling was ... icky!!

After about ten minutes of “cooking” I showered off the mud and put on a new pair of paper panties. This time, I was just wrapped in foil. The purpose here is to sweat out the toxins that the previous treatment loosened up. After another ten minutes, I showered again and put on a third set of panties.

At this point, Lesley began the massage. She started with me on my stomach. Her lovely Scottish accent belied her pointed elbow, which she drove into my back and shoulder zealously.

In Seattle, I had read something on the back of a hot sauce bottle ... “There is a line where pleasure and pain intersect.” I was getting real close to that line. Just as I was getting into it, however, it was over. Covered with grease and aching so good, I got dressed and left the spa. 

In the hour that I had been there, the fog had lifted revealing spectacular views in all directions. Our ship was now slicing through the narrow Princess Royal Channel. I went up to the top deck where I saw Tam laying there in full winter garb. Laura was twenty feet away splashing in the hot tub. It’s all about attitude! Actually, the temperature was in the 50s and dropping by the mile.

That afternoon, I sat on our private patio and watched the steep pine-covered islands plunge into the channel only feet from our ship. In the distance, rugged snow-covered stone mountains played hide and seek.

My first bald eagle sighting occurred in the Greenville Channel just south of Butedale. By the time we finished our formal dinner the fog had rolled back in, just as the day had started.

Crossing into waters of the United States, we observed a small Canadian patrol boat approach our vessel and we watched the exchange of pilot crews. Both Canadian and U.S. law dictate that cruise ships utilize expert pilots in the potentially treacherous inside passage channels. Once we entered into the United States, the Canadian pilots disembarked and the U.S. pilots got on to finish the trip. At that moment, Laura reminded me that I had completed an important personal goal, to visit all 50 states. Wow! It was true, I had made it!

Tam and I settled in, watching CNN and British open golf highlights. At midnight,we would set our watches back another hour as we crossed into another time zone.

Sunday, July 22, 2001

Alaska

Ketchikan

Saxman Totem Village

Great American Lumberjack Show

Six thirty in the morning and I was on the top-deck of the Mercury as it slowed to a stop at Ketchikan, Alaska. It was low tide; docks are as if on stilts and many boats are lying on the rocks on the harbor’s edge.

A cold misty rain and whispy low fog provided an intimate perspective of this rustic harbor town. Apparently, this was not unusual because Ketchikan receives more than fourteen feet of rain per year. Much of the surrounding area is rain forest, making for ideal tree growth, and the resulting emergence of the timbering industry here.

Ketchikan (population 14,400) began as a Tlingit salmon fishing camp, called Kitsck - Hin. This translated into “The creek of the thundering wings of an eagle.” This name accurately described the hundreds of eagles that nested here and fed on the salmon as they ran through the local creeks and tributaries.

A cheesy welcome sign at the harbor makes the exclaimed The Salmon Capital of the World.  

The moment we docked, 7:00 am, all of the local shops and tourist attractions immediately opened for business. We immediately disembarked and went shopping.

Twenty gift shops on the harbor and they all had the same key rings and postcards. We talked with a friendly shopkeeper who said that we were the only cruise ship in harbor that day. He said sometimes there were seven or eight ships in at once and the stores  would be jammed with seven or eight thousand tourists at one time.

At nine o’clock, the four of us loaded a bus for Saxman Totem Village, one of the oldest and largest of its kind in the world. The village is also home to five hundred Tlingit, Tsimshian, and Haida Indians.

When we arrived, we watched a video presentation on the history of the region and the native tribes that originated here. At the Tribal House, we watched native dancers in authentic regalia performing ancient rituals and dances. Here, Laura volunteered to dance with them and they adorned her with a tribal cape and headgear.

Gloria, Michelle, and Becky

Afterward, we saw artisans at work in the carving shed working on new totems from red and yellow cedar logs. These totems are for sale and prices on them vary greatly. A work by an apprentice will fetch on hundred dollars per foot but a totem carved by a master might go for upwards of thirty-five hundred dollars per linear foot. 

We ate lunch at the harbor shops and got ready for The Great American Lumberjack Show. This was something that I had been anticipating since the beginning of the trip. The show takes place in a small amphitheater at the harbor, the same location where the largest sawmill in the world existed for hundred years.

The show was a demonstration of several competition skills based on real-life activities of lumberjacks (i.e. axe throwing, pole climbing, log rolling, speed chopping, etc). This competition would be between two American and two Canadian competitors. Representing the Americans was the current world record holding speed climber, Brian Linville. His partner was Dave Nordland, runner up in last years’ Bull of the Woods competition. For the Canadians Andy Colle, Ironjack Rookie of the Year 1999 and Eric Robson an apprentice competitor.

The show was a blast, neck and neck between both teams until Dave’s razor-sharp axe slipped during the underhand chop. The blade hit behind the steel toe of his left foot, gashing it deeply. Dave limped through a couple more events and then disappeared. His stand-in Jeff McKenzie popped out and took his place. Dave was taken to the local hospital.

We later learned that in addition to his new foot injury, Dave had recently broken a femur in a 40 foot climbing fall and still had metal rods in his leg.

In any case, the Canadians won the final event. After the show, the lumberjacks greeted guests and posed for pictures. They pooh-poohed Dave’s injury, saying it was a “clean cut.” These guys were tough!!

By 3:00 o’clock, we were underway for Juneau. Several bald eagles escorted us out of the harbor as we rolled by small islands sprinkled underneath the white-cloud fog blanket that never rose more than a hundred feet off the ground.

It is difficult to describe the vastness … the remoteness … of this part of the world. Hundreds of miles of open water and coastline. No homes. No roads. No power lines. Nothing. Nothing except trees and clouds and water and rock. Heavy gray skies constantly linger overhead, seemingly just out of reach, only the sound of our ship slicing through wind-whipped and slightly choppy seas. Mountains jutting up sharply; their tops erased by the fog. Temperatures just cool enough to nip at your skin. This was Alaska…. in the summer.

Monday, July 23, 2001

Juneau

Helicopter Flight To Herbert Glacier

What is the capital of Alaska?  I know, Juneau!

The capital of Alaska, Juneau was a busy metropolitan outpost along the inside passage. Office buildings rose only a few miles from massive glaciers. The governor’s mansion was only nine blocks away from prime grizzly bear habitat!!

It was the only state capital not accessible by road.

In 1880, two misfit miners named Dick Harris and Joe Juneau discovered gold in the stream that now runs through the center of town. By 1906, the state capital moved from Sitka to Juneau because that’s where all the action was.

While many people made a fortune during the Klondike gold rush, Joe Juneau and Dick Harris never got rich from their discoveries. Juneau died broke in the Canadian Yukon and a collection had to be taken up to send his body home for burial in the city he co founded.

In 1999, Juneau had a population of 30,000 Alaskans. Still, it was one of the biggest towns in North America with an area of 3,108 square miles.

Mercury inched into Juneau at 7:30 am under heavy skies and spitting rain. Massive mountains jut thousands of feet into the air right beside the ship.  In the distance, I could see even higher mountains covered with snow.

Juneau was spread along the shoreline and into the hillside. It was hard to determine where the center of town was. Although Juneau is the state capital of Alaska, there was no fancy capital building, no gold-leaf dome. The capital building was a six functional six-story office building, indistinguishable from most others in the ten-block town.

On this morning, we were scheduled to fly up to the Juneau glacier fields (North America’s largest) in a helicopter. We even planned to land on some glaciers and enjoy champagne and fudge.

A white van picked up the Baldwins, the Cunninghams, the Olins, and Grandma Olin, carrying us a few miles to the airport past low marshland at the end of the Gastineau Channel. This was an important habitat where eagles nest and feed. Indeed, we saw at least fifty on our drive.

Temsco Helicopter Company flies Aerostar helicopters, the most common for this purpose and the best in the industry. Ours was number 94E. Our pilot’s name was Gernandt. An Austrian by birth, he lived in Hawaii and worked summers in Alaska. He had been a helicopter instructor for twenty years and knew the pilot we flew with on Maui a couple of years earlier. No one could forget forget Richie, the pilot with a diamond embedded in his front tooth.

Gernandt told us that it would be a great day for flying. He turned out to be right.

We took off over Auke Bay and headed north to Herbert Glacier. Visibility was excellent and we could see the glaciers in the distance. They were discernable from snow in summer by their distinct blue tint and smooth, thick body. Closer inspection revealed debris lines of gravel and rock that had been stripped from the mountain walls and pushed into the center like a long dark stripe. At the bottom of the glacier, at the icefall, were huge shards of ice, revealing deep blue ravines. These shards break off periodically, falling into the glacier lake created by the melting ice.

At the surface, the glacier was smooth looking. Almost like a lava flow. Often melt-off ran through the glacier creating rivers of fast moving water that disappears into deep crevasses three or four hundred feet deep.

We first landed on Herbert Glacier. As we approached the surface, I noticed the water-slicked dirty ice, like the last remains of an old snowstorm in the spring. Transparent. Coarse. Sprinkled with sediment and larger stones. The blue tint seemed to come from underneath but actually the color were the result of highly compressed ice that would not absorb short-wave blue light. 

The glacier was slippery and was impossible to walk on if not for the fact that the top inch or two of ice had become honeycombed and pocked. As a precaution, we were given special pull-on boots with high grip rubber soles. Still, we all walked around as if we were in a hockey rink.

As an added bit of excitement, the ice sloped in all directions, often descending into deep crevasses. The adults kept their distance. Laura wandered around at will, coming within inches of death without realizing it. She fell on her butt a few times, but mostly for laughs.

 

It began to rain, so we packed up and took off for Mendenhall Glacier. On takeoff, Tam’s job was to wipe off the window condensation with paper towels. The famous Mendenhall Glacier originates at an elevation of 4500 feet and moves a few feet every day on its 12-mile journey to the valley.  The glacier ends 54 feet above sea level at Mendenhall Lake. Here large chunks of glacier “calve” into the lake, creating icebergs.

Believe it or not, as we flew over the lake, there were jet skiers whipping around in super-frigid water. 

We landed on Mendenhall Glacier at an elevation near 1000 feet. Gernandt opened a bottle of champagne and gave us the much-anticipated fudge from the Alaskan Fudge Factory. The sun was breaking out of a clearing sky. We took many pictures, regretfully loaded the choppers, and headed for the airport.

What an awesome experience!! Michelle said that she liked this flight better than the Hawaiian volcano flight. Laura’s best recollection was of the cool color of the blue ice.

The rain returned during the afternoon, putting a damper on shopping and other excursions. Tam and I did visit the state capital and picked up a few gift items before walking back to the ship.

We took it easy for the rest of the day. The whole family was cranky and needed the rest.

Tuesday, July 24, 2001

Skagway

Sgt. Preston's Canadian Mounted Police Trading Post

Red Onion Saloon

Liarsville

In 1898, twenty thousand people lived in Skagway, Alaska. One hundred years later, eight hundred people lived there. Skagway was the jumping off point for prospectors on the long trek into Canada and the Klondike. They came by way of the White Pass and Chilkoot trails.

There was still a gold rush of sorts in Skagway,  but now it came to them in the form of cruise ships. On this morning, six ships were in harbor. Five thousand tourists in one day would jam the small village at the north of the Lynn Channel, looking for cheap jewelry, trinkets, and mementos.

One hundred years ago, Alaska’s greatest con-man, Soapy Smith, worked the unsuspecting visitors to Skagway, providing a fictitious telegraph service to the lower forty eight states. This was one of many scams that he perpetrated on unknowing travelers to the Klondike. Soapy’s reputation grew until citizen vigilante Frank Reid shot him dead on the Skagway pier. Reid also died in the shootout and was considered a hero.

A cold wind blew up the channel. The temperature was 52 degrees, making if feel as cold as … Alaska. The gray clouds that had surrounded us since we left Vancouver were still with us. Sitting in the harbor, snow-capped mountains encircled us. Things were looking more rugged as we had continued northward.

The four of us walked at least a mile into town. My first stop was Sgt. Preston’s, a shop specializing in Royal Canadian Mounted Police memorabilia. I purchased a wide-brimmed Mounties hat and had it sent home.

Just up the street was the infamous Red Onion Saloon. Built in 1897 and opened in 1898, it served alcohol on the first floor while the second floor served as a brothel. Ten rooms for ten girls. At the downstairs bar, along the mirror were ten dolls. When a girl was with a customer, the doll was laid flat. When she was available, the bartender stood the doll upright again. These girls had names like Birdie Ash, Big Dessie, Pocorn Lil, Oregon Mare, and Klondike Kate.

After the gold rush, the Red Onion Saloon served as army barracks, laundry, bakery, union hall, and gift shop before re-opening as a saloon in 1980.

Laura and I went inside the saloon while Tam and Michelle shopped. Laura seemed way too happy to be there. She liked the lacy waitress dresses, the ragtime piano player, and the dolls on the back bar.

The next thing you know, we were on a bus headed for Liarsville, an old tent village in the woods just outside Skagway. Liarsville was a shanty-town located a few miles outside of Skagway were hundreds of would-be fortune seekers camped and panned along the river’s edge. We were greeted by a howling parking lot attendant who pointed us in the direction of the cookout where we ate grilled salmon, cole slaw, and fresh apple pie.

Afterwards, we walked through the woods were we experienced a recreation of the original village. Next, we were entertained by a guy who played songs on an English concertina (small hand held accordion). We also heard a classic story/poem by Robert W. Service called the Blasphemous Bill McKie.

The kids panned for gold and petted a rare 160 pound Mackenzie River Huskie named DonJec. We even joined in on the sing-a-long. Corny but fun!! Soon we were back aboard the Mercury, moving on to our next destination.

Is this all I got?

Wednesday, July 25, 2001

Yakutat Bay

Hubbard Glacier

Life aboard the Mercury has been fantastic. Our quarters were actually two rooms, a bedroom and a living/dining room. The rooms were furnished in beech, mahogany, and teak. Each room has separate TV/VCR/DVD  hookups as well. We also had one large private patio. Our rooms were located on level ten. The main restaurant was on level six. Shopping was on level seven.  The spa was on level eleven. Lots of stairs to climb!

Michelle and Laura had had the run of the ship. Michelle and her cousin David mostly went back and forth between the basketball court at the rear of the ship and Baldwin’s room, the Presidential Suite.

Laura joined the kids program on board and had found new friends and would preferred to spend every possible minute with them. Their group had toured many parts of Mercury, including the wheelhouse, all outside decks, and even backstage at the theater.

Tam and I stayed in contact with the kids at all times via two-way radios. It  worked out great, giving them freedom while giving us peace of mind.

The food was very good, maybe too good.  The wine ... excellent as well. Tam and I made use of the spa on several occasions. The shopping was basic but met most of our needs. The only problem at the halfway point was that the ship laundry had misplaced Tam’s bras. Mac (our private butler) assured us, however, that they had not left the ship.

Gloria and Becky had flown out from Skagway to Anchorage, primarily out of concern for rough seas in open water.  But the night was very smooth and would not have been a problem for them.

Another day, as foggy as ever. It also began to rain. We sat motionless in a mass of gray. Out of the fog, approaching us from the bow was a small boat, the Shaggy Point.  It pulled up beside us, dropped off mail and exchanged pilots. The inside passage guys were leaving and our new ones would bring us all the way to Seward. They were going to need GPS because the fog had completely obscured everything. I could not see the water beside the ship.

We crept into Yakutat Bay. It was here that Mt. St. Elias and Malapinas Glacier (the largest glacier in North America) resided. This glacier was larger than the state of Rhode Island! We hoped to witness the immense power of the glacier as it “calved” into the bay.

Out of the mist, a piece of ice drifted by. Then another, larger one. Yet another hunk of ice, blue in color floats up and bounced off the ship. We continued to work our way toward the as of yet unseen glacier wall. The captain began to get nervous about continuing into the bay. He decided not to abort and we slid tepidly into the growing ice field.

The wind began to pick up and blew off the lower cloud layer, revealing two massive glaciers flowing down from Mt. Vancouver and Mt. Logan. With engines almost idling, we skimmed past a peninsula and small island. We were in Disenchantment Bay. Hubbard Glacier emerged into view.

Hubbard Glacier was named after former National Geographic Society president Gardiner Greene Hubbard. It was a massive flow, more than five miles wide and continuing seventy-six miles into the mountains. Its three hundred foot high ice wall terminated defiantly into the bay.

As we edged closer, I could hear the booming thunder of huge ice masses breaking off from the flow. I watched several ice calves drop into the bay, making gigantic splashes into the ice-cold water. This cannibalization continued around the clock, sometimes carving out thirty feet per day. In the great earthquake of September 1899, Hubbard Glacier slid nearly a half-mile into the bay in a five-minute period.

The bay was muddy with sediment from the constant movement of ice and gravel. Where we sat, less than one mile away, ice chunks surround us. Many of these extended twenty feet above the water. As they floated by, they continuously made popping and hissing noises, sounding like a large bowl of Rice Krispies. This noise was the release of gasses that were compressed into the ice when it formed.

Almost everyone onboard the ship was either on the bow or inside the observation decks watching the slow dynamics of glacier destruction.

We eventually turned around and inched out of the bay. Next stop: Prince William Sound and the port of Valdez.  Mercury turned toward the open water of the Gulf of Alaska and headed west.

The ship Mercury was built in 1997 in Papenburg, Germany by Jos. L. Meyer & Company. The ship weighed 76, 522 tons. It measured 866 feet long. Cruising speed was 21.5 knots. It carried a crew of 909. It had 10 elevators.

There was no shortage of food on this cruise, even for the Olin family.

Here were some item inventory statistics, based on a seven-day cruise:

3,250 pounds of lobster

675 pounds of crab

240 gallons of ice cream

1,600 pounds of cookies

3,400 bottles of wine

12,500 bottles of beer

Here is the summary of distances covered on our cruise:

Vancouver to Ketchikan          552

Ketchikan to Juneau               292

Juneau to Skagway                104

Skagway to Hubbard              286

Hubbard to Valdez                  253

Valdez to Seward                    263

Total distance covered: 1, 750 miles

Thursday, July 26, 2001

Valdez

Alyeska Oil Pipeline Terminal

College Fjords

Good news. Bad news. Opened the curtain this morning and found the fog was mostly gone. It has been replaced with a soggy and steady rain.

It was 6:30 am and we are docking in Valdez, Alaska. A friendly sea lion winked at me and swam away playfully. The water looked a little silty from the glacier runoff in the nearby Alaska Range. No sign of the world’s greatest ecological disaster that occurred here on March 24, 1989.

An oil tanker named the Exxon Valdez ran hard aground near Bligh Island and spilled eleven million gallons of crude oil into Prince Island Sound. The currents took the spill six hundred miles southwest, as far as Sand Point. Although it was difficult to see direct evidence of the spill, there were fewer species of animals, and fewer in number than before the disaster.

We boarded a white school bus and went to the Alyeska Pipeline Visitor Check-in Center, where we were subjected to search before reboarding for the Alyeska Pipeline Terminal. Apparently, there was a supreme concern for security at that location as it was noted that seventeen percent of the United States oil supply came through this facility annually. It went without saying that this would be a prime terrorist target, let alone one for Greenpeace activists.

We were driven around the facility and not permitted to off of our bus. The driver did her best to keep us entertained and informed but the tour was disappointing.

  

I did learn that the pipeline ran exactly 800 miles before terminating into the side of a nondescript pole building. Also, I saw fourteen storage tanks that held 9.18 million barrels of crude oil (the same as the pipeline’s capacity), which was about a weeks worth of production.

  

More than 13 billion barrels of oil had come through that location. Officials projected another fifteen years of production before the Alaskan oilfields would dry up. Our driver said that most Alaskans were hoping that they opened up the Arctic reserves for drilling, but there was strong opposition from California environmentalists.

The town of Valdez was unspectacular. It looked like any small town in Michigan. The only thing peculiar was that it was located four miles inland from the harbor. This was the result of a massive 9.2 magnitude earthquake that hit in March of 1964. The town was totally destroyed and the decision was made to relocate to more stable ground. Also, Valdez had the honor of being Alaska’s snowiest city. Its record snowfall in one year was 500 inches.

We cruised out of Valdez after lunch and headed for nearby College Fjords (named after Ivy League colleges) on the Kenai Peninsula. The largest and most well known of these is Columbia Glacier, whose sheer ice face rises 300 feet from the water. Other glaciers are named Smith, Radcliffe, Wellsley, and Harvard.

Mercury crept into the bay, avoiding dozens of sea otters and sea lions, edging alongside Bryn Mawr Glacier. We came as close as forty or fifty yards to the icefall at the water’s edge. At one point, I could see eight to ten glaciers in all directions.

And miracle of miracles!! The sun decided to show up!! First time we had seen direct sunlight since Vancouver.

At the head of Resurrection Bay and the foot of the Kenai Mountains sat the picturesque fishing town of Seward. The town was founded in 1903 as an ocean terminal for the planned Alaska Railroad. The name, of course, came from the man who arranged the purchase of Alaska from the Russians in 1867, William Seward.

Friday, July 27, 2001

Kenai

Exit Glacier

Seward Highway

Turnagain Arm

Anchorage

We checked out of our room before 7:45 am. Soon we were off the ship and waiting inline for our rental car. Sue made us make a sashay through Seward, all six blocks of it. We did pull our three Ford Explorers into the local Texaco station for $100 worth of pop and candy.

We would be driving up the Kenai Peninsula to our eventual destination of Anchorage, a distance of 120 miles.

Our first stop was Exit Glacier in the Kenai Fjords National Park. This glacier was accessible (and supposedly climbable) by foot after a half-mile walk through the woods. This was a great place for the kids to stretch their sea legs after six days. Whatever visions they had about marching up the side of the glacier, ended quickly. At the foot of the glacier, the ice was very slick and slimy with mud, making climbing impossible.

Back in our vehicles, we continued northward, taking a detour to the village of Hope, an old mining village on the southern side of Turnagain Arm. After eighteen miles of rough roads, we drove right through town without knowing it! We soon realized that the village of Hope consisted of a café, a small pink schoolhouse, and a white outhouse. Nevertheless, we saw hundreds of fly fishermen standing knee-deep in the inlet. Then we noticed a sign that we are there for the Hope Fishing Derby!!

We caught a surprisingly good lunch at the Discovery Café, a restaurant on the edge of nowhere. By now, the clouds have cleared out, giving us spectacular views along the Seward Highway and Chugach State Park. Gorgeous nearby mountains covered with grass, fireweed, and pine trees give way to distant granite ranges covered with glaciers and snow. There was no picture that I could take that would convey the awesomeness of this sight.

In the meantime, Laura and Michelle were busy bouncing to music in the CD player (A-Teens, Faith Hill, and other kid favorites).

No bear or moose in sight yet!!

We paralleled the northern shore of Turnagain Arm and hammered into Anchorage, the most populous city in Alaska (257,000 people). This was a cosmopolitan community, mixing many cultures in an informal (almost frontier) setting. Anchorage grew dramatically as a support facility during World War II and grew further as base camp for ventures into the bush. As corporate headquarters for major petroleum companies, its importance was ultimately recognized. In fact, in 1974, people of the state of Alaska voted to move the state capital from Juneau to a small town north of Anchorage. At the same time, the citizens failed to vote for funding the make the move. So the capital still resides in Juneau.

We met up with Gloria and Becky at the Clarion Hotel. All thirteen of us ate dinner at Benihana’s Japanese Steakhouse and (after a swim) turned in for the night.

Saturday, July 28, 2001

Saturday Flea Market

Anchorage had an earthquake during the night. Tam and I slept through it but Grandma felt her bed shake.

Welcome to the “Saturday Market” ... an oversized cultural extravaganza and flea market held in a downtown parking lot. On this beautiful sunny morning, we wandered from tent to tent seeing everything from furs and fine arts to “moose pooper” candy dispensers. There was guy playing water glasses,  who played Hail To The Victors at my request. Kids were playing violins.  Jugglers. Mimes.  Belly dancers.  Hula dancers. It seemed to me that a great number of artists and performers lived from week to week on whatever they make from this show … all for the privilege of living here in the great wilderness. They were open and friendly but tended to be unkempt and a little shaggy.

 

One booth, Funky Feet, sold wild-looking handmade and painted shoes.  Our entire family bought shoes ... thirteen pairs!! These shoes looked like walking cartoons with garish and clashing colors. Sort of like bowling shoes on drugs.

The market was a great break from touring. It gave us a taste of real life in Anchorage. Wild and off-center!!

For dinner, we went to Sourdough Mining Company, a big trashy building built in miner’s motif and decorated with full size taxidermy of all kinds. We met Dusty Sourdough, who once sang backup for Glen Campbell. He put on two shows a night for the patrons. 

The Olins, of course, opted to go to the gift and candy shop across the street for a nightcap before retiring back at the hotel.

Sunday, July 29, 2001

Iditarod Starting Point

Hanging Around Anchorage

Beautiful Sunday morning in Anchorage, Alaska. Everybody was moving a little slowly since we had nothing really planned. Gloria and I read the Sunday paper in the hotel lobby. A plane crashed on a glacier near Yakutat. It landed to pick up two stranded climbers and snagged a ski on takeoff, falling into a crevasse. Alaskans seemed to shrug off this kind of news as if it happened everyday.  Unfortunately, up here in the wild, it does.

After grabbing lunch at McDonalds, we all watched the movie America’s Sweethearts starring Julia Roberts at the Century 16 Cinemas.

Afterward, we wandered around downtown Anchorage, where we located the starting line for the famous Iditarod dogsled races each year.

    

Back at the hotel, we watched the Outdoor Games on ESPN. Brian Linville, the lumberjack we saw in Ketchikan, won the silver medal in speed climbing.

After driving six times around the block to find it, we ate dinner at Outback Steakhouse and then turned in for the day. Time to read a bit about Alaska …

• It is the largest state in the United States, covering 586,412 square miles, one fifth of the continental 48 states.
• It has 100,000 glaciers covering 4.9 percent of the state.
• It has 1,800 named islands and 13 major volcanoes.
• It is the northern-most, western-most, and eastern-most state in the union.

Monday, July 30, 2001

Earthquake Park

Downtown Trolley Ride

Lake Hood Seaplane Base

The weatherman on television officially said summer was over. It was snowing in Barrow. The temperature there was 29 degrees. In Anchorage, it was a drizzly morning. Temperature was 52 degrees outside our door.

Our family took the trolley today. We spent an hour circling around, looking at Anchorage through wet and fogged-up windows. The highlights of the tour were Earthquake Park, a section of wooded cliffs that dropped (along with 75 homes) into Cook Inlet during the 1964 disaster and Lake Hood, the world’s largest and busiest seaplane base. On a peak day, 800 take offs and landings occurred here.

After lunch, Tam and I shopped for art but were unsuccessful. It did give us the opportunity to cruise the lobby of the Hotel Captain Cook, the most elegant hotel in Anchorage.

The next day, we would need to rise early. Our train for Denali National Park would leave first thing in the morning.

Tuesday, July 31, 2001

Alaska Railroad

McKinley Explorer to Denali

Talkeetna

Denali National Park

Five-thirty wake-up call. Laura had crawled into bed during the night and was sawing away. Tam had washed all of our dirty laundry, so we were packed and ready for our adventure into the backcountry of Alaska. At six-thirty, Laura and I walked down to the Alaska Railroad station. The rest of the family met us by cab a half-hour later. Our train, the Mount McKinley Explorer, scheduled to leave at 8:15, actually left at 8:19. A good start!

Before we got up to top speed, we passed through Elmendorf Air Force Base. The sign at the gate entrance said Top cover and global engagement. A 24-hour attack squadron of F15 fighters sat ready to take off at a moments’ notice. They could be in the air in less than five minutes.

An hour or so into the trip, we arrived  at (or should I say drove through) Willow. This town of 90 people was selected in 1974 to be capital of Alaska, until it was determined that it would cost $2.64 billion to transfer the necessary infrastructure to what was here-to-fore wide open spaces. The move was never made and Juneau remained the capital.

Talkeetna, a town of 450 people, serves as the headquarters for all climbers who seek to conquer the summit of Mount McKinley. They would depart from this location in airplanes, landing on Great Gorge and Ruth Glaciers where they would set up base camp. Talkeetna was also the base of operations for the many big-game hunting expeditions that headed into the wilderness in search of moose, sheep, and bear.

Lucky for us, Talkeetna’s biggest annual event was taking place, the Talkeetna Bluegrass Festival. The equivalent of Woodstock for Alaskans, it was sponsored by the local Hell’s Angels chapter.

But perhaps its greatest claim to fame was the annual Moose Dropping Tossing Championships.

From Talkeetna, we turned northeast toward Denali National Park. Also, from this location, the Iditarod dogsled race turned northwest toward Nome. The Iditarod is the longest dogsled race in the world, beginning in Anchorage and terminating in Nome. It traverses 1,049 miles. The trail follows an old dogsled mail route first blasted in 1920. The race’s origins lie in the advent of a diphtheria epidemic, which broke out in Nome in 1925. Dogsledders relayed the anti-toxin serum in six days. Balto, the famous husky, guided the final sled through the blizzard.

Continuing north, we paralleled the Chulitna River. Suddenly, we spotted a black bear swimming across the river. Our train apparently spooked him into the water. In the next ten miles, we spotted several other bears. I even saw a bear climbing a tree! Still no moose yet.

At mile marker 297, we came within 46 miles of Mount McKinley. This was our best opportunity for viewing, but low clouds hampered visibility. The lesser and closer mountains of the Alaska Range were powerfully jutting skyward and are very easy to see. But the holy grail remained coyly beyond eyesight.

We crossed the high point of the Alaska Railroad at 2,362 feet near the village of Summit. At these higher altitudes, the trees thinned out and ground cover became sparse.

The Olin party disembarked at mile marker 347, Denali National Park, and walked about one hundred yards to the park hotel. The original Denali National Park Hotel was a thing a beauty, similar to the Old Faithful Inn at Yellowstone. However, a fire in 1972 destroyed the structure and temporary quarters, constructed of railroad cars, were built in 1973. If the National Park Service ever had a mobile home park, this would be it. The accommodations were minimalist, but what would you expect north of the sixtieth parallel.

We all ate dinner at the Denali Chalets and enjoyed a dinner-theater experience. Laura was our table representative for a family-style meal.  She loved every minute of it! As we looked out of the large picture windows behind the stage, we could see orange and pink sunlit clouds retreating behind the mountains. 

During the show, one of the actors read a poem by Robert Service that defined the Alaskan experience for many who came a hundred years ago:

“I am the land that listens, 

I am the land that broods; 

steeped in eternal beauty, 

crystalline waters and woods.  

Long have I waited lovely, 

shunned as a thing accurst, 

monstrous, moody, pathetic, 

the last of the lands … and the first.”

The Law of the Yukon

Robert W. Service

We went to bed at midnight, four of us sharing two double beds. We still got to sleep quickly, even though the sun still shone brightly outside our window.

Wednesday, August 1, 2001

Tumbling B Horse Ranch

Nenana River Rafting

Denali National Park is one of the last great, untouched wilderness preserves. Encompassing more space than the state of Massachusetts, it remains rugged and unspoiled. Nature here seems to recapture what is hers very quickly. Every year it takes park road crews more than 70 days to cut back brush and rebuild roads that winter has reclaimed. At one spot, near the west entrance, the asphalt had been scooped away by bulldozers trying to remove an ice wall twelve feet thick last spring.

Denali has been called the American Serengeti where herds of caribou (almost 2,000), Alaskan moose, grizzlies, and sub arctic wolves (about 150) can be seen and heard. The park is dominated by the highest mountain in North America, Mount McKinley, which rises to 20,320 feet.

The first western man to spot the slopes of Denali was Captain George Vancouver in 1794. He took note of “stupendous mountains carved with snow.” The ancient Athabaskans, who lived here before then, called it Denali, the high one. Charles Sheldon, a friend of Teddy Roosevelt and big-game hunter had seen the beauty of the region and realized that it should be withdrawn from further development by gold miners and other private business interests. He convinced President Woodrow Wilson to establish Mount McKinley National Park in February of 1917.

Our family would be among the last of those to stay at the Denali National Park Hotel inside the park. It was slated for destruction and removal next spring and there would be no other lodge built within the park boundaries in the future. In its place would be an interpretive center for park visitors.

Brother-in-law George and I walked the mile from the lodge to the visitor center. This was where backcountry campers registered for overnight permits in the park. They were given sealed food containers and obtain last-minute information about grizzly where-abouts before heading into the wild. Every group that camped in the wilderness areas had to register with the park service, giving their camping locations and duration. On return, they also had to check-in with the visitor center. It was interesting watching groups discuss with park service guides the best places to camp and best methods to get there. I overheard this comment, ”Ok, full pack, through heavy brush. You should average one mile per hour, so to get here from there should take six hours of strenuous hiking, but you must avoid the moose-calving area.”

Also posted at the visitor center was the weather forecast for the park.  Heavy clouds. Chance of rain. At the bottom it read: Chance of Mt. McKinley visibility -zero percent today, zero percent tomorrow.

At noon, the Dads took their kids to Tumbling B Horse Ranch for an afternoon of riding. Our shuttle took us twenty miles north of the park, through Healy and deep into the backcountry. We passed a Jeep Cherokee that had rolled over on the gravel road early in the morning. We also noticed that every garbage can had been spilled over. Our driver said that grizzlies were wandering nearby and regularly poked into the trash. He pointed to several splats of blue in the dirt road. This was grizzly poop, constituted primarily of blueberries. In late summer and fall, the bears come down from the mountains looking for extra food to put on weight for their winter hibernation.

The horse ranch was a disappointment, ratty buildings, a port-a-let for visitors, and a muddy quagmire for a yard. It had rained for seven straight days and we all stood in foot-thick mud. 

My horse’s name was Herman. Michelle’s was Burt. Laura’s was Cheena. We wandered around through muddy trails for two hours. We saw no wildlife other than plants. We did get to hear some cool explosions from the coal strip-mining operations across the railroad tracks.

In typical Olin fashion, three hours later, we were putting on scuba dry-suits and life vests for our whitewater-rafting trip down the Nenana River. Tam joined us for this adventure. Due to the aforementioned rains in the past two weeks, the river was swollen and moving fast. What was initially an easy (or boring) wilderness float ride turned into a thrilling raft trip on Class 3 rapids. 

The sun broke through, giving us spectacular mountain views as we blasted past sheer canyon walls and heavily wooded flatlands. We saw no wildlife, however, until we got to the Lynx Creek Pizza Parlor and Pub. It appeared to be the liveliest place in town. It was close to midnight before we got back to the Denali Park Hotel. The kids weren’t sleepy because the ever-present sunlight deceived them into thinking it is still early. Once we closed the drapes, however, they were out like a light.

Thursday, August 2, 2001

The Great Mount Healy Mountain Climb

Alaska Railroad Denali to Fairbanks

At 9:18 am, Laura and I walked out of the Denali National Park Hotel and began a quest … a quest for the top of Mount Healy. We had no idea what we were about to undertake. The maps said that the trail was 2.5 miles in length. That didn't seem so far, did it?

The initial trails were like roads, wide enough for a car. Then a little narrower, wide enough for a golf cart. We came upon a sign that said “Healy Scenic View and Overlook 1 Mile.”  Underneath it said, “Warning: Unimproved Trails.” The path narrowed further, and tree branches hung low, brushing our faces and shoulders. Laura and I were still cruisin’ along. The trail became steeper, with tree roots and mud and water and rocks. At times, the trail disappeared entirely forcing us to guess where we are going. Laura and I were beginning to labor a bit. She grabbed onto my backpack and I dragged her up the increasing incline. We stopped periodically, giving us the opportunity to catch her breath. She tripped on a root and fell flat on her face in the mud. We kept pushing upward.

Another traveler emerged, an old-timer coming down from the top. We asked him how far to the summit?  “About half an hour,” he retorts, smiling. 

The trail was now a series of long switchbacks, getting steeper with every step. We were crawling over large rocks and boulders as we climbed above the tree line. The trail was only six to eight inches wide at this point, with several hundred-foot drops down the slope. Laura was so tough!! Her lungs are pumping but she wouldn't quit. We made one final right-hand turn and staggered up the steep crest of the mountain. At 11:05 am, we stood at the top of Mount Healy. A small sign on a post said, “Mount Healy - End Of Trail.” Looking down, Laura and I could see Tam and Gloria in the hotel parking lot. They were tiny specks. We talked to them using walkie-talkies. They could see us with binoculars, celebrating at the top.

  

Laura stood at the top and yelled with arms outstretched “I’m king of the world!!”

The view was unbelievable! We could see across several mountain ranges. Mount McKinley loomed in the distance, covered in clouds and snow. The Nenana River that we rafted the day before serpentined toward us, beside us, and behind us. The bright blue-sky overhead made the world seem larger ... a world that Laura and I were on top of at that moment. It seemed like we could actually see the curvature of the earth from here.

Laura and I sat on the preciface and talked for a few minutes about our accomplishment. We became quiet for a few minutes, individually appreciating what we had done. It was a transcendental moment. We built a few Japanese stone pyramids (like we had seen in Hawaii) on a stone outcropping and reluctantly turned to head down.

The walk down was as treacherous, maybe more so than going up. This was mainly because we could see how dangerous some of the climb really was. It did go quicker, however.

At 12:00 noon, we triumphantly returned to the hotel. Laura and I were now experienced mountain climbers. All in a day’s work. Now we had to pack for our train trip to Fairbanks.

At 4:00 pm, we hopped back on the Alaska Railroad and continue northward. We board Holland America Westours train car “Chulitna” and chugged to Fairbanks, paralleling the Nenana River as it rushes between the mountains.

Near Healy, we entered three train tunnels that cut through the coal-rich hillsides. In fact, Healy was one of only two or three coalmines in Alaska. The coal is called Ligonite Coal, the cleanest available, and it is easy to mine because it is on the surface and can be strip-mined.

Continuing north, we passed through miles and miles of swamp and heavy brush. Suddenly, there appeared three massive metal-frame structures. It was a United States Air Force intercontinental ballistic radar tracking facility. This was one of only three in the world and part of the “top cover” program.

Not far from the radar site, in a swampy field, standing by herself, absolutely massive, was … a moose! This thing was huge, with big round shoulders and head. Pay-dirt!

Nenana is a small town located at the junction of the Tanana and Nenana Rivers. In 1923, President Warren G. Harding came to Nenana to dedicate the opening of the Alaskan Railroad. Rumor has it that he ate some bad salmon here and went home sick. He died a few days later ... giving conspiracy theorists more grist for the mill.

It is also the location of the famous Nenana Ice Classic. When the rivers freeze, a large pyramid-shaped tripod is placed in the center of the ice and when the ice breaks up in April of May, the ice flow eventually carries the tripod past a finish line. People all over Alaska wager (to the minute) what date and time the tripod will float by. It is Alaska’s only big-money lottery. Last year’s winner received more than $300,000.

We knew we were nearing Fairbanks when a massive 747 jet emerged from the low hills and disappeared into the clouds. The train slowed as we idled past the University of Alaska Fairbanks, the states’ largest college.

From the Fairbanks railroad depot, a Comfort Inn shuttle picked us up. The kids were in the pool within five minutes.

The sun never went down that night.

Friday, August 3, 2001

Riverboat Discovery

Susan Butcher's Itarod Champion Sled Dogs

World's Fastest Salmon Fileting

Pope / Ronald Reagan Secret Meeting House

Raining again … and colder. Forty-eight degrees in Fairbanks. Our schedule for the day included a ride aboard the Riverboat Discovery, self-proclaimed to be Fairbanks’ premier attraction and the number one boat tour in North America.

 

We crowded aboard with three hundred Princess Cruise passengers into cheap plastic seats, all jammed together side by side. Average age of the passengers aboard the boat was at least seventy.

I initially approached the whole thing with a great deal of skepticism, but for some strange reason it began to grow on me. For openers, an announcer called our attention to starboard side ... where some dude jumped into his bush plane, took off, circled the boat, and then landed on a two hundred foot runway in his backyard. Skidding to a stop, the guy popped open his window and then waved to all of us!! 

This was going to be no ordinary cruise!!

The cheesiness of the tour was right out front, almost as if it was making fun of itself. Although I noticed that the majority of tourists were taking it a face value, I saw the wink in Captain Jim Binkley’s eye as they released the reindeer from hidden holding pens so they could run out to greet the boat as it paddled by.

We saw the house where President Ronald Reagan stayed when he met the Pope in Fairbanks. We pulled up to Iditarod champion Susan Butcher’s house and met Sue and her family … and her dogs. We watched an Athabaskan Eskimo lady gut a twenty-five pound salmon and filet it in fifteen seconds. It was an overdose of tourist-trap eye candy that was worth every bit of the forty-dollar ticket.

After lunch at Pike’s Landing, we returned to some very bad news. Cindy Stravers, our house sitter, called and sadly told us that our pet guinea pig Cookie had died suddenly. She was a wonderful pet and lived five years, a long time for a guinea pig. We would miss her and remember her often.

For dinner, The Pump House restaurant provided great chowder and an interesting atmosphere. A nine foot tall stuffed Kodiak bear greeted guests at the entry and a signed picture of Ronald Reagan hung in the bar. Afterward, we went to Hot Licks ice cream stand for desert. Hot Licks was considered at the time to be one of the top ice cream stands in the United States.

The kids went for a swim after dinner. It helped Laura wash off the tears cried with the loss of her beloved Cookie.

It began to rain again as we turned in.

Saturday, August 4, 2001

Private Plane Flight To The Arctic Circle

Bettles Hunting Lodge

Alaskaland Theme Park

The lady driving the Comfort Inn shuttle had no idea where the Old Frontier Hangar was. We circled the Fairbanks airport twice before finally finding the small, run-down metal building. The only identification was a sign hanging on the side wall. Tam, the girls, and then grandma spilled out of the van. Grandma got snagged getting out, ripping the crotch of her pants.  

Sitting behind the building was a twin-engine Navajo eight-seat plane (N124WA) painted white with dark brown trim.

The ground was wet from overnight rains but the sky was clearing. It was the chilliest day yet, 47 degrees.  Hopefully, we would fly in good weather today.

It seemed like we were the only people there. No one was with the plane and we couldn’t find the door to the building. Eventually, we snuck in a back entrance. A lady was scrubbing the counters and stopped to register us for the flight. This process included weighing each of us on cargo scales in the middle of the waiting room.

The pilot showed up, staggering in with a cup of coffee and dark glasses. Gloria asked him if he is the pilot. He answered, “Yes.” She said that he looked too young. He smiled and wickedly retorted that his name was “Buddy.”

The tarmac gas pump was not working, so we waited for a fuel truck.

At precisely ten o’clock we piled into the plane. Very tight quarters. The level of nervousness increased. Everybody was popping Dramamine and making sure their Sea Band wrist bands were on. I moved up and sat as co-pilot on the northbound flight.

Buddy gave us some preflight instruction as we taxied to the end of the runway at Fairbanks International Airport. A giant Cargolux 747 idled behind us as we drove onto the huge runway; far different than the two hundred foot gravel strip we saw the day before. 

Our plane revved hard and sprinted down the runway. We were airborne almost instantly but stayed low as we hovered to the end of the asphalt. With a smooth pull, Buddy drove the plane into the sky. We were off to the Arctic Circle!!

The flight was smooth as we cleared a thin layer of haze and it disappeared entirely as we neared the Yukon River. Buddy brought the plane down to a lower altitude as we flew out into the bush. Below, there was one road, which paralleled the Alaska oil pipeline. The pipeline was very visible, sunlight reflecting off of the aluminum jacket protecting the inner steel tubing. It was raised off the ground several feet and jogged back and forth like a giant zipper as protection against earthquakes.

North of the Yukon River, the black spruce trees became sparse and the permafrost tundra emerged.

At 66* 33’ latitude, along a high ridge, Buddy informed us that we had crossed into the Arctic Circle.

Looking north, the Brooks Range loomed, spreading from east to west. It was dark in the distance and without snow. Beneath us was high rolling tundra. No sign of life. The herds of Caribou had not yet come down from the mountains, as they would in winter. Buddy turned hard left and circled toward a short gravel airstrip in the middle of nowhere. We landed and taxied to a two-story log barn with antlers all over it – Bettles Lodge. In front of the lodge was an understated sign welcoming us to the town… er, the three buildings … that comprised Bettles.  The sign said:

Bettles, Alaska

35 Miles north of the Arctic Circle

Population 63

We took several pictures beside this sign and stepped into the lodge. Four or five people looked at us strangely, yet expectantly. The word was out that some tourists were going to fly in and out in a half an hour. Gloria and Tam proceeded directly to the gift shop to look for “Arctic Circle” merchandise. I bought a hat, a jacket, and a Mountain Dew. The bartender filled out five certificates honoring our feat. Everybody went to the toilet and in twenty minutes, we were back in the plane. An hour later, we were eating Thai food in downtown Fairbanks. Our trip to the Alaskan bush was short and sweet.

We shopped a bit downtown before returning to the hotel to swim and pack for our return.

To wrap our vacation, everybody wandered across the street from the hotel to Alaskaland a small theme park built in 1967 for the Alaska Centennial Exposition. There were a few carnival rides and gift shop. For me, a highlight was the railcar used by Warren G. Harding when he dedicated the Alaska Railroad in 1923. 

We ate dinner at a salmon bake in the park. An outdoor meal, under the pines, in Fairbanks, Alaska. The nearby fireweed in full bloom told us that winter’s first snow was only six weeks away. Wood was being chopped.  Meat was being smoked.

The days were getting shorter quickly. In fact, in the twenty days we had been in Alaska, we had lost more than six minutes of sunlight each day. When we leave, that day would be two hours shorter than the day we arrived.

Sunday, August 5, 2001

Return Home

Early morning sun streamed under the cloud layer and illuminated the magnificent Alaska Range. The view from the Fairbanks airport terminal was spectacular. I took pictures, hoping that maybe one of those snowcapped mountains would be McKinley. An old sourdough asked what I was looking for. I respond, “McKinley.” He point ed ninety degrees right and says, “It would be over there, but you can’t see it. Too many clouds.” I looked where his finger was pointing. Gray. Gray. Gray.  Nothing.

One of my primary goals on this trip was to see Mount McKinley. It was unfortunate that we were here when Alaska experienced the rainiest July in history. Still, Laura and I did see “the great one” buried in clouds from the peak of Mount Healy (we saw maybe ninety percent of it). This memory would have to suffice. Only twenty-five percent of those that come to see McKinley ever see it in its full glory.

I think everyone was slightly disappointed that more wildlife was not visible. Many of us were expecting some sort of “Alaska on parade” or something. Having now seen it, I have come to the conclusion that it is so large that individual creatures are lost in the scale of it all. Looking for a Dall Sheep on a fifteen thousand foot mountain is like looking for a single grain of sand on a beach.

Before I came to Alaska, I thought of it as being white, covered in snow. From this moment on, I would remember Alaska as big and powerful and green. Green like the Sitka and Black Spruce trees that grew everywhere by the millions. Green like the wild brush and ferns that covered every inch of undeveloped land in the interior. Green like the foamy moss that blanketed the permafrost tundra of the north.

Poet Robert W. Service articulated the Law of the Yukon very well:

This is the Law of the Yukon, 

that only the Strong shall thrive;

That surely the Weak shall perish, 

and only the Fit survive.

Dissolute, damned and despairful, 

cripple and palsied and slain,

This is the Will of the Yukon

Lo, how she makes it plain!

As we flew east, approaching Minneapolis, the pilot announced that it was 97 degrees in the Twin Cities. Ouch. Yesterday, the high in Fairbanks was 47 degrees.

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The “Best” List:

The most outstanding memory we have of the trip was the helicopter adventure onto Herbert and Mendenhall Glaciers.

The best family moment was buying thirteen pairs of “Funky Feet” shoes at the Saturday market in Anchorage.

The most reverential moments were waking up in Denali National Park and visiting Bruce Lee’s grave in Seattle.

The most entertaining moment was watching the Great American lumberjack Show in Ketchikan.

The most victorious moment was when Laura and I conquered Mount Healy, followed closely by the Arctic Circle adventure.

The most outrageously fun moment was “riding the duck” in Seattle.

The most cheesy-fun moment was a tie between the Riverboat Discovery cruise and Liarsville in Skagway.

The most “Alaska” moment was a tie between Hubbard Glacier and whitewater rafting on the Nenana River at Denali.

Biggest celebrity sighting - Snoop Doggy Dog

Best meal - Wild Ginger, Seattle

Best accommodations - Celebrity Cuise Ship - Room #1040 (Royal Suite)

Best T Shirts - Denali National Park

Furthest point from home - Bettles, Alaska (Arctic Circle)

Around The World With The Olin Family