No Bears? Really?

Prince William Sound, Alaska

As you enter Valdez, you pass through Keystone Canyon.  It is only three miles long, but it has two amazing waterfalls... Bridal Veil and Horsetail.  The sun was just right, so we stopped to take a few photos.

Bridal Veil Falls, near Valdez, Alaska

Horsetail Falls near Valdez, Alaska

Valdez is all about salmon. The salmon begin running in Valdez around July 24. Bear families are hungry, and many come to small creeks to feed on the abundant fish. We have long had a favorite place to set up for the day to photograph the bears that visit. But not this time. To our dismay, we learned that the wild salmon had only just begun to arrive. In fact, only one returning salmon had been recorded in the culvert near the visitor center. Because of the late spring, the salmon, too, are running late. 

We photographed plenty of both Golden and Bald eagles perched in the treetops. Gulls, too. A forest ranger reported that a brown bear mother and cubs had come to check the creek late last night but quickly left when she found no salmon. It seems that all of us creatures are waiting for the arrival of salmon. 

We did find a bright spot for photos. There is a fish hatchery in Valdez for Pink salmon. The hatchery Pinks had already begun arriving... and in abundance. The fast-running Solomon Gulch Creek dumps into Prince William Sound, meeting at the fishery weir. The inlet was filled with salmon trying to make the weir. The water literally churned with their numbers. 

Enormous sea lions found a virtual feast; they guzzled salmon and fought with one another for prime fishing spots. Sea gulls, ever the opportunists, waited for leavings or feasted on the many salmon that had died in their quest to make it over the weir. It was a cacophony of sounds with roaring sea lions, raucous laughing gulls, jangling tourists, rushing water, yawping wind, rumbling vehicles, and the drumming of machinery from the hatchery and adjacent hydroelectric generation plant.  

During high tide, there must have been a thousand gulls and over a dozen sea lions all vying for their chance to gobble up salmon in the small area surrounding the weir. It was amazing. I wore out one camera battery and had to go back to the truck for another. 

As the tide waned, we left and discovered a dog park in town. Sam found a friend, and the two ran until they wore themselves out while chasing each other. We stopped by the fish market and bought a salmon filet for dinner. 

That evening, we found a spot to boondock (free camp) near old town Valdez. It was between the mountains and Prince William Sound. Some places just feel like paradise on earth. 

We decided to leave for Homer rather than wait for the wild salmon to arrive in Valdez. We’re looking at the possibility of returning after we circle the Kenai Peninsula. We’ll see how our timing looks and make a decision in a week or two. So it’s goodbye to Valdez… until we meet again. 

Copper River

Copper River, near Chitina, Alaska

By the time we hit Kluane, the road became extremely rough. Most of the Alaska Highway is smooth and paved. The section between Kluane and Tok, however, has high permafrost levels, making road stabilization difficult. As long as you take it slowly, it’s not an issue. Too fast, however, and the heaves set you airborne, your vehicle bottoms out on the dips, and some of the potholes are so deep that they could sheer a tire.  I don’t know how the big rigs and bus-size RVs make it, but they do. We have, however, talked with folks who broke their springs or tore up their undercarriage. 

We headed to one of our favorite camp spots at Liberty Falls near Chitina and the mighty Copper River. 

Liberty Falls, Alaska

Sam and David in Liberty Creek

The Copper River is known for its Sockeye salmon. It is a huge, braided river (melt water from glaciers that become shallow and wide, turning into rivulets surrounded by rock debris).  The Copper is fed by both glaciers and several other large rivers, making it the tenth largest river in the US. The Copper carries a large amount of silt from the glaciers and copper deposits along the upper portions, giving the river its color and name. The river is renowned for its King, Coho, and Sockeye salmon. The salmon swim upstream over 300 miles in their journey to return to their spawning grounds. Because of their arduous journey, the salmon must store additional fats and oils, making their meat extremely rich and highly prized. 

Copper River, Alaska

Beyond Copper River, the road leads to McCarthy and the Kennicott Copper Mine. (To learn more about theses places, check the links below.)

Copper River, Alaska

We were delighted to discover our favorite campsite was vacant at Liberty Falls.  We set up camp, then drove into Chitina. Again, we met with much change. Stores had closed, and the only motel no longer served breakfast or lunch. 

We continued on to the nearby Copper River to watch the many fishermen. Fisher folk used a variety of nets and lines. Indigenous folks are allowed to fish with dip nets or fish wheels. The fish wheels are fascinating to me. They float on the river and have a catch system that scoops up the salmon and drop the fish in a catch basin. 

Fish wheels along the Copper River

After stopping to take photos, we returned to camp to let Sam play in the creek. 

The next morning, we took the two-hour drive down the gravel road to McCarthy. We took a familiar hike to view the glacier, but the mosquitoes were dreadful. After about a mile, we figured we were all anemic from blood loss. We turned around and headed back to the truck. 

That night we were surprised to see a fire truck come into the campground, along with nearly a dozen other vehicles. Only after the fire truck’s emergency horns were set off did we realize that there was a wedding on the bridge overlooking the falls. One of the newlyweds must have worked for the fire department. Had I only known, I would have taken pictures! 

Tomorrow it’s on to Valdez, where we always see bears feeding on the salmon.  It’s one of my favorite places. I can’t wait!  

To read more:

*David wrote a great post about the Kennicott mine. To read it, click here:  http://ruffingitx3.blogspot.com/2015/08/the-kennicott-copper-mine.html?m=1

*For more about McCarthy, click here:  http://ruffingitx3.blogspot.com/2015/08/the-mccarthy-road.html?m=1 

Haines, Alaska

Haines, Alaska

Almost half the days of the year, Haines receives precipitation of some sort. Imagine our surprise to find a sunny day on our arrival. Normally we are not that fortunate. 

Haines is a working town with about 1,700 year-round residents. The town is sandwiched between the Pacific Ocean and Canada, although it has substantially more geography than Hyder. It is accessible by marine ferry or traveling through Canada. 

Town of Haines, Alaska

One of the major draws for Haines is their fishing weir…and salmon fishing. Locals have set up a weir station to make a daily count of the salmon migrating upstream to Chilkoot Lake to spawn. (The salmon journey from the Pacific, up the Chilcoot River, and into Chilkoot Lake and its tributaries upstream.) Local brown bears often fish the weir, making it a wonderful photographic opportunity. 

Fishing weir in Haines, Alaska

We quickly learned that the salmon are slow to spawn this year, so we found no bears at the weir. The morning after our arrival, however, we did spy a set of triplets on the flats between the Chilcoot River and the sea. They looked to be freshly jettisoned from their mother. They were probably two or more years old. They looked like they were having the time of their lives, frolicking on the flats. 

Brown bear... one of triplets... Haines, Alaska

When checking for new emails with the library’s Wi-Fi, we noticed a larger number of people in Haines than normal. We asked at the visitor center and discovered the Southeast Alaska state fair would begin on Thursday.  As a result, yet another favorite restaurant, The Bamboo Room, was closed for maintenance. Bummer. 

We drove to Chilkat State Park to see if we could find any eagles. Haines is known as one of the major eagle refuge areas in the world and is a prime winter migration habitat. Chilkat State Park and Mud Bay have long been a favorite spot of ours, as we have always found eagles there. Thankfully, we quickly spied an eagle perched on a log pole near the boat launch, eyeing his territory. He allowed me to steadily walk much closer than expected for a photograph. 

Eagle, Mud Bay, near Haines, Alaska

It rained hard during our second night’s stay. When we awoke, clouds laid their heads on the ground, veiling all the mountains. 

Rainy morning in Haines, Alaska

With rain in the forecast, the lack of bears to photograph, and the state fair participants filling all the campgrounds, it seemed to be telling us that it was time to go. We feel pushed to move on… for whatever reason. 

As we left Haines, we spied a pair of swans and their cygnets. It felt like a beautiful omen of things to come. Onward to mainland Alaska. 

Swan near Haines, Alaska

Why Do We Do This?

Warning:  Waxing Rhapsodic (yet again)

We love being on the road and able to travel like we do. Many have asked how we do this for so long a time. We don’t want to give you the idea that it’s total bliss. Some days, it is no panacea. Driving long days from Texas to the Arctic can be exhausting. It takes planning to live three to four months without a refrigerator and only having a backpacking stove and mess kit as a kitchen. Being 18-inches apart from the one you love for three months can sometimes be a challenge.  And traveling with a young pup definitely makes it more interesting. 

Bugs can be really terrible up here. Alaskans call the mosquito their state bird. These mosquitoes are huge… and they definitely drink blood. Caribou can lose as much as a quart of blood a day because of mosquitoes. There are also horse flies, black flies, and nasty little gnats… all ready to take a bite. We carry a bug tent with us to help ward them off when we’re camped and bug veils to cover our heads and faces when we hike. Other folks have come up with rather unique ways to ward off the bugs… like this couple.

One couple's answer to the bugs... a tent in a tent!

Reports this year are that a late spring has pushed the bugs into August. Hopefully most of the bugs will wane by mid-August when the first cold snap hits and winter approaches. 

We constantly track road conditions and weather. If you’ve followed us over the years, you’ll know that we’ve been caught in ice storms and deluges. Several years ago we even had to be rescued during a blizzard by the sheriff department’s emergency snow cat while in the White Mountains of Wyoming… because the weather forecast wasn’t exactly accurate. So much for their prediction of a “light dusting” of snow. 

This year we’re finding changes that, while not endangering, are disappointing. Mostly because of the pandemic, haunts like the Rancheria on the Alaskan Highway have closed. Our favorite schnitzel restaurant changed hands and is now a biker restaurant and bar. Many places, including gasoline stations and Wi-Fi services we depended on have closed since covid or because of life-changing events in general. As an example, the state campground we hoped to stay at tonight was closed because the contractor broke her leg and couldn’t do the job. 

While we seek to photograph animals, they are also an unknown. As David said today, we can’t expect a moose to be in the exact same spot five years later. The salmon run is late this year, so bears are not yet visiting usual places. Temperatures vary.  Hotter temperatures drive the animals to higher elevations. More tourism even further complicates wildlife viewing. Our kind of traveling requires quick adjustments. It is a fluid situation in many respects. But that’s also what makes it so much fun. These minor inconveniences are just that… minor. 

It’s the remoteness that is the draw… and how it changes us. We take time to read the sky, the direction of the wind, the colors of the leaves, the manners of the animals, the rhythm of our bodies.  As an example, we are now high enough in latitude that the sun never truly sets. Two o’clock in the morning is as bright as six in the morning at home…and we’re not near the Arctic yet. We must rely on our body clocks rather than the time of day to tell us when to sleep. 

Our senses become heighten during these excursions. It is no longer passive but active attention, and we feel a quickening within. We listen to birdsong as closely as we do distant thunder. Our eyes adjust to subtle movements in the forest.  Wispy, horsetail clouds hearken a change in weather. Bears grazing close to the roadside tell us they are most likely in hyperphagia, packing on as many calories as they can before hibernation. Being so aware of our surroundings feels natural. It is almost as if something primal inside us awakens. 

The land around us is always shape-shifting and beckoning… from minute to minute and season to season. What lies behind this corner or over this knoll?  What did earlier folks come to understand?  Might we know it, too, if we pay close attention?  Those early peoples, both indigenous and pioneers, had so much knowledge that we have lost or distanced ourselves from. Fish wheels and dog sleds and herbal medicines were effective and revolutionary tools in their time and are still in use today, if only we take time to understand. 

Mostly, we marvel at the majesty, the diversity, the synchronicity, and the profound symbiotic relationships… all designed perfectly by our awesome Creator. Being this close to nature proves that it can’t be just a product of “slime and time” as some would say. And as a result of all of this, we feel more alive and part of nature rather than apart from it. It is a blessing, indeed. 

We’re off to Haines, another one of our favorite spots. We have been there when bears are a-plenty. We have also been there when we saw no bears. But it’s always an adventure. It’s always beautiful. It’s always fun. It’s always amazing to see what God has in store for us. 

We can’t wait to see what happens next!  

A Close Encounter

Sam swims at Kinaskin Lake

We arrived at Kinaskin Lake under heavy skies. Our favorite campsite was open, but the neighbors had a generator, television dish, and a motorboat. We opted for a quieter spot. 

Sam is not yet trustworthy to roam freely, so we tied her to a tree with 40 feet of lead so she could reach the beach and swim to her heart’s content. I placed her food bowl out and water. I have long had a little orange cup to measure out kibble. The next time I looked, however, the cup had disappeared. We looked all over for it. Finally, we discovered the thief when David accidentally dropped a pistachio nut. We believe this was the culprit who stole my cup. 

We decided to take a hike around the lake. Thankfully, we had brought our rain gear with us. We heard thunder and quickly donned our jackets. We had barely finished zipping up when the skies opened with huge drops of rain. We made it back to camp as quickly as possible. 

Weather forecasts predicted rain at Kinaskin for the next two days. Squeezing three in our cramped quarters for two days hardly sounded fun, so we broke camp the next morning and headed to Boya Lake. 

Sam swims in beautiful Boya Lake

Boya Lake is noted for its beautiful color.  With its bottom composed of marl, a mixture of silt and shell fragments, it casts a deep, turquoise color.  The sun was shining, and we arrived early enough to find a great campsite. Boya is very popular because its water is so warm, so it often fills before early afternoon. 

We took Sam for a hike and swim. Then settled in for the evening. Mosquitoes have been dreadful on the Cassiar, so David pitched our screened porch. When I came back from a visit to the outhouse, this was my view… my sentinel was waiting for me.  I had to laugh. 

When we awoke the next morning, David made coffee as usual. He normally lets Sam out as soon as he steps out of the camper. This morning, however, he wanted to get another collar for her, so he left her inside with me. Within minutes, I heard him talking with a woman who sounded quite distressed. 

She was our neighbor and came to tell us she had seen a bear in her campsite just minutes before and she was worried about Sam. Bears and dogs do not mix well. David came to tell me, turned around to look in the woods… and there he was… a large black bear less than 20 feet from the back of our camper!  Sam caught his scent and went nuts.  She was all over the camper... back and forth between it and the truck, watching that bear.

Our neighbor had a bear siren, but the bear hardly noticed. We were stuck in the camper until he decided to leave. After about 20 minutes, he ambled off. We waited a bit, then decided to take Sam for her morning stroll in the opposite direction. When we came back, however, so had the bear. Now we couldn’t get INSIDE the camper, but watched and waited from our neighbor’s campsite. 

Our close encounter...

Finally, the bear made his way up the road.  I was able to take this photo of him as he passed the recycle bins just on the other side of our campsite. Wowzer!  Now that’s the way to kick start a morning!  Woohoo! 

Salmon Glacier

Salmon Glacier outside of Stewart, BC

Past Prince George, we spied our first little black bear. He was sitting in a pond. By the time we turned the truck around, however, he was already out of the water. I took a few photos anyway. 

We decided to return to Hyder, Alaska, just across the border from Stewart, BC. (We had not visited since 2011.) Hyder sits along a sliver of land between Canada and the ocean. How these few, small remnants of land remain under American jurisdiction, I have no idea. There is even a border crossing there between the US and Canada, however, Hyder’s land mass is tiny, only connected to Canada and the sea.  Just over 100 folks make Hyder their home. 

Hyder is known for its bear viewing platform. I admit that I was a bit reluctant to revisit. The last time we were in Hyder, it rained constantly… for three solid days. We walked the bear viewing platform, waiting for glimpses of a few bears. By the end of day one, I was soaked to the skin. Then the night before we left, I remember coming back to the camper only to find it had leaked. We were in a laundromat at ten at night, trying to dry out our sleeping bags. This time, however, the forecast predicted sunny skies, so we decided to take the gamble. I’m glad we did. 

We camped at Meziadin Lake the night before Hyder, letting Sam have her fun swimming. 

Meziadin Lake, BC

The next morning when we drove past the bear viewing platform, we saw a tour bus had just deposited dozens of tourists. We  decided against stopping. Instead we took the road to Salmon Glacier. We had tried this route before, but the road had been rough and clouds were so low that we couldn’t see anything but gray. 

Not so today. The weather was beautiful.  The road to the glacier viewpoint is located at about 23 miles up a gravel road that begins just past the bear viewing platform. Although rough in spots, a two-wheel vehicle could definitely make the run (if you’re not pulling a trailer).  The road travels through several rather large mining operations, but that is not an issue. About half way up, we spied the beginning of Salmon Glacier. The next ten miles or so, the views were absolutely breathtaking. 

Salmon Glacier, BC

Salmon Glacier is the fifth largest glacier in Canada. It is a remnant of the last great age of glaciers. 

Salmon Glacier, BC

We stopped for lunch at the best view point, marveling at the panoramic beauty. We even spied distant mountain sheep with the binoculars… although they were much too far to get a good photo. 

We drove back into Stewart that afternoon and spent the night at the Bear River campground, enjoying hot showers and WiFi. 

Tomorrow we head to one of my favorite places on the Cassiar… Kinaskin Lake. It is wild and beautiful. It also holds a special place in my heart because of our last Golden, Roxanne. It will be good to be back.