How One Day Became Six

We arrived in Soldotna with plans to spend one night.  We ended up spending six.  We found an absolutely beautiful campsite on Upper Skilak Lake (see post below), and fell in love.  We decided to use the campsite as our home base for day trips.

It continues to rain every day.  In fact, the Kenai Peninsula has received near-record rainfall this July.  We felt fortunate, however, when we managed to catch bits of sun here and there.

Early in our stay, we hiked the Seven Lake Trail and found a wonderful cabin about a mile and a half in on Engineer Lake.  The cabin had its own boat, wood supply, and beautiful view.  Later we learned that the cabin is for rent through the forest service.  It is such a great site that we have decided to return here after our trip to Denali, hike in, and spend a few nights to enjoy the remoteness of this beautiful place.

We visited the towns of Kenai and Nikiski.  Nikiski is the furtherest northern road on the Kenai Peninsula.  At it's end, we discovered Captain Cook's State Recreational Area and hiked the beach trail.

A mother moose and her twin babies foraged near the road to the campground.  The mother appeared unconcerned about our presence, allowing me to snap a series of photos of before she casually moved off into the forest.

On our trip back from Nikiski, the sun cleared enough for us to view Mount Redoubt, one of the famous volcanoes on the other side of Cook's Inlet.  It was absolutely lovely.  Hopefully, the volcanoes will be in full regalia on our trip back from Homer.

Our lakeview campsite had it's stories also.  Raucous gulls had a rookery on a rock outcropping about 150 yards from our site.  Their ceaseless cacaphony of squawking was something to be heard!

One morning a boat with three men rowed in front of our site and waved.  We watched them dock at the landing.  Within minutes, they were at our camp, asking for help.  They had let in on the Kenai River the evening before, planning to ride the river down to the mouth of Skilak Lake and Jim's Landing.  Unfortunately, they missed the landing in the dark.  They had paddled all night, looking for help.  David drove them back up to the landing and one of their vehicles.

With no internet connect at our state campground, posts have been slow.  Now that we're in Homer with WiFi, we'll continue to try to catch up over the next few days!

Soldotna on Dwellable

Day Thirty-Six

We have been on the road over thirty days now.  This afternoon we checked in with each other to see how we're doing.  The result of our serious analysis is as follows:

The camp on Upper Skilak Lake...

Us...

The view...

What's not to love?    :)

Moose Pass

After leaving Valdez, we camped at the Bear Creek campground, right on the Blue Ice Trail.  The campground had warnings posted that a black bear had been raiding several campgrounds, including ours.  All food was to be left in bear proof containers.

We were shocked when Roxanne quickly located nearly a cup of trail mix neatly piled at our campsite.  Much to Rox's chagrin, David scooped it up, along with any contaminated dirt, to toss it in the bear proof garbage bins.

We visited the Wildlife Conservation Center to see a pacing brown bear, dismal moose, and sleeping black bears, along with other creatures no longer able to survive on their own.  All of the moose had been orphaned and brought to the Center.  I admit that not all the animals seemed hopelessly misplaced.  However, after seeing so many animals thriving in their natural habitat in Valdez, it was difficult to watch these.

We drove into Seward on Sunday morning.  Cruise ships had arrived and the town bustled with tourists.  Not wanting to fight the crowds, we left, deciding to go back to Moose Pass.  We took the Ptarmagin Trail late Monday morning.

It felt great to be hiking again.  We laugh and say that Alaska miles must be longer than those at home.  We spent over an hour hiking a trail that was only suppose to be three miles long.  The forest became more dense, and we finally turned around after seeing an enormous pile of bear scat, never reaching the lake.  On our return trip by Moose Pass, we found a cabin for the night and relished the hot shower.

With the incredible abundance of seafood in this area, amazingly, we have found very few grocery stores that sell fresh seafood.  Most restaurants only serve fried fish.  I have missed fresh seafood greatly.  That evening we learned that one of the restaurants in Seward serves grilled seafood.  We enjoyed a lovely dinner at Christo's Palace.

Moose Pass on Dwellable

A Ray of Hope

On April 20, 2010, the BP Deepwater Horizon rig exploded, killing eleven people.  As a result of that disaster, raw estimates indicate that over 200 million gallons of oil have spewed into the Gulf of Mexico. 

I grew up on the Gulf.  My heart has wrenched each day with frustration and sadness, listening to reports of unsuccessful after unsuccessful attempts to cap the well… watching as the tally of dead shorebirds and sea life mount ever higher.

In 1989, the Exxon Valdez ran aground in 35 feet of water in Prince Williams Sound, flooding the Sound with 10.8 million gallons of oil.  Today I stand on the shores of Valdez some 21 years later, witnessing what I pray will be another full circle view of how the current devastation in my beloved Gulf of Mexico might heal in time.

Out of all of the places that we have visited in Alaska, Valdez has showed the most wildlife. A boat tour offered sights of sea otters, harbor seals, sea lions, puffins, and a mother and baby humpback whale.   Driving near the fishery, we spied a mother brown bear playing with her triplet cubs.  A yearling black bear fished for salmon among hungry gulls.  Eagles soared overhead while thousands of salmon returned to spawn in the nearby creek.  My heart soared… would my Gulf waters be able to recover so completely?

A visit to the local Valdez museum, however, offered a clearer perspective.  While figures vary from Exxon’s optimistic 24 percent, most estimate that only 8 percent of the oil spilled was ever recovered.  In areas of the Sound hardest hit, one need only dig an inch or two to find clumps of oil remaining. 

I read the list of animals recovered, those still recovering, and those who have yet to recover.  The statistics of wildlife lost were grim.  Over 4,000 otter were killed, many after rescue and cleaning.  During cleaning, their natural oils were also stripped.  With the stress of handling, dehydration, and exposure, the poor creatures succumbed in spite of the tender care volunteers offered.

Nearly a dozen books were on sale in the Valdez museum bookstore with scathing analysis of the debacle that followed the spill.  The sins of man permeated every aspect, including greed, corruption, and bureaucratic stalling.  To date, claims still remain unsettled, and many recipients are now dying without recompense or resolution.   It often seems that corporations try to cut their losses on the backs of average people who know right from wrong, not legalistic gray areas.

Time and again, lack of preparedness and delayed response in containing the spill was cited as the greatest reason for the extent of the disaster.  Window after window of opportunity was lost with no response plan in place, unavailability of equipment, and bureaucratic interference.

With the Gulf spill, these sins are already repeating.  Where was our disaster plan?

In the Gulf Coast petroleum industry, BP has long held a reputation of poor safety standards and exceptional risk taking.  As an example, nearly five years ago, fifteen BP employees lost their lives in a Texas City explosion.  Safety experts had analyzed and predicted fatal injuries several years in advance of the explosion if BP did not change their ways.  They did not, resulting in innocent lives lost and shattered.  It is documented that BP took similar “cost-cutting” risks with the Deepwater Horizon rig. 

Days after we left for Alaska, the Houston Chronicle broke another response story.  Three days after the spill, the Danish government offered high-tech skimmers designed to capture oil.  The newspaper story highlighted the current administration’s written refusal to the Dane’s for their help.  Why would anyone turn down such generosity, particularly in face of such a cataclysmic disaster? Was it ignorance or an alternative agenda that caused their refusal?  How many gallons of oil could have been skimmed in the time wasted between the initial offer… not to mention the Chronicle’s exposure of the administrations refusal for help… and the reluctant approval by the administration as pressure mounted to allow the skimmers into the Gulf? 

Sadly, it appears that we learned nothing from the Valdez oil disaster.  Neither the petroleum industry nor the government heeded disaster plans.  After the Exxon Valdez incident, all oil vessels in Prince Williams Sound must be double-hulled.  Each vessel is escorted by two tugs in and out of the Sound.  Barges with containment and clean-up equipment stand in the harbor, ready to spring into action in case of a spill.  Why did the Gulf disaster response fail?

Many may ask why I have a right to speak such outright criticism.  The Gulf of Mexico is my home.  I have lived on it from Tampico in Tamaluipas, Mexico, to the Biloxi shore.  I have traveled it from the Yucatan Peninsula to southern Florida.  My family has owned land on the Texas coast since the Sovereignty of the Soil.  I have walked the Gulf beaches with six generations, including my great grandmother, grandparents, mother, and siblings.  I taught my sons how to crab off a Biloxi pier and have hunted for seashells on Galveston Island with my grandchildren.  I have spent days sailing her bays, fishing her abundance, and sharing her joy.  And on one precious night with the dearest of friends, we followed a moonlit trail so beautiful that we actually caught a glimpse of Paradise. 

And I am not alone.  Others have lived on these waters much longer than me.  They have worked, lived, loved, and died along these waters.  The human toll of this debacle will continue to rise.  We may lose an entire generation of families living off the sea. I can only imagine how fathers must feel trying to provide for their families now.  Skilled hands that once drew nets or lashed lines must now feel clumsy doing inland jobs they never dreamed they would have to perform.  I ache for them and their struggle to save their way of life.

There is no time for patience when progress is stalled while some bureaucrat decides if he will grant a permit.  Each moment counts as oil gains on endangered pelican nests and mothers must explain to children that they have to evacuate their island home because of toxic fumes.  May God bless each hand that has lowered a boom or vacuumed muck or cleaned an oiled animal or prayed for us.

So where is the hope?  When God breathed our world into existence, He must have looked ahead to this day.  Amazingly, He has provided healing power for our planet when man makes his mess.  As a small example, God built in safeguards such as tiny bacteria in the marshes that will eat oil.

I know that the Horizon oil spill is not the first disaster to hit our planet.  Civil war battlefields, which once ran red with the blood of soldiers, are now green meadows.  Hiroshima rose from the ashes of the world’s first atomic bomb.  In Chernobyl, home to the most wretched nuclear disaster, wildlife now thrives.  Scars remain on land, wildlife, and human hearts, it is true, but resiliency remains also. 

Therein lies my hope.  Today I can visually see it on the shore of Prince William’s Sound with determined salmon, soaring eagles, and playful otters.  It lies in mankind who make their living off the land and sea… people who are as determined as the salmon to return to their trades and homes.  It lies mostly in the masterful creation and answered prayers by a God greater and more merciful than any of us can ever imagine.

Valdez has shown me that in spite of the sins of man that God and good prevail.  I am every grateful that it has offered this gift to one so unimportant as me… that I might have the opportunity to witness a hungry bear nab his salmon supper in a place where the world once offered no hope.  In offering me this gift, I can see an unimaginable hope to my home… my Gulf of Mexico.  


NOTE:  If you would like to learn more information about the wildlife along the Gulf Coast and saving oiled animals , please visit Roxanne's May 25 ad 26 posts on her blog at http://roxannedogblog.blogspot.com/.

Glacier Day

Today we hiked to the mouth of two glaciers.  Worthington is just north of Valdez.  We also hiked onto Matanuska Glacier near Chickaloon.

Worthington Glacier heads on Girls Mountain.  The entire area is covered in a beautiful dark green slate.  We climbed up the rocky morraine, fording icy streams of melt until we were at the foot of the glacier.  It felt good to be hiking again.  Roxanne even took a short swim in the small lake formed by the glacier’s movement.

It was still early in the day, so we drove on toward Palmer.  The spectacular Matanuska Glacier came into view.  Matanuska heads in the Chugach Mountains and treads over 27 miles, reaching widths between two to four miles across.  It is the largest glacier accessible by car in Alaska. 

The road to Matanuska is private property.  The folks who own it charge an access fee.  As we were standing in the parking lot of the fee area, a family spied Rox.  The children asked to pet her while we exchanged cordialities with their parents.  Amazingly, they had flown in from The Woodlands, Texas, to visit Anchorage friends.  On the boat tour in Valdez, we met a couple from Conroe.  What a small world!

We drove nearly to the foot of the glacier and hiked onto rock and ice.  Rivlets of silt-laden melt ran charcoal grey.  By the time we reached solid ice, Roxanne’s feathers were heavy with silt.  The packed ice crunched beneath our feet.  Rox sat only once, discovering that this surface was much too cold for comfort. We walked as far as we could without wearing crampons or hiring a guide.

Thankfully, we had enough water in the truck to rinse off Rox’s paws and belly before she jumped into the back.  We found a nice state campground about a mile from Matanuska.  Tomorrow we will head for Anchorage for a night in a motel to clean up and restock. 

Valdez

We arrived in Valdez on Sunday to more rain.  And the rain has continued almost the entire time that we have been here.  Surrounded by high mountains, Valdez must be stunning in sunshine.  Hopefully, we will see her mountains before we depart.

Valdez has proven to be a wildlife treasure.  Near the fishery, we have seen diving eagles, laughing gulls, dancing seals, playful otters, and hungry bears.  Depending on whether it is low or high tide, visitors catch glimpses of one or more of these marvelous animals.  They are all drawn to the same source:  salmon.

Concerned about the overfishing of salmon, Alaska has developed several fisheries.  The fishery in Valdez stocks pinks.  Extremely successful, there are so many salmon trying to reach their birthing ground that the fishery has made the ladders extremely difficult to traverse, restricting the numbers that return to spawn. 

As a result, many salmon die at the mouth of the ladders.  Along a trail of struggling salmon, a variety of animals come to find a meal.  During the day, eagles and gulls feast.  Late evening, when tourists become fewer, bears come to gorge themselves. 

 In some respects, it feels like total carnage with thousands of desperate salmon struggling to make the distance, dodging talons and teeth and barriers too great to overcome.  Doomed to die, they thrash in puddles of water left after the tide recedes while the sqwaking, laughing gulls peck at them.  I admit that I feel sorry for the salmon.  But this is the cycle of life… and has been since creation.

On our first night visiting the fishery, we witnessed a mother brown bear playing with her three cubs.  An adolescent black bear made his way upstream to catch his dinner.  A pair of eagles shared a meal of freshly caught salmon while gulls hungrily waited for their leftovers.

On Wednesday, we took an all-day boat tour, visiting two tidal glaciers, including the retreating Columbian Glacier and the advancing Meares Glacier.  We shivered as the wind blew off icebergs and the blue glacier face before witnessing the Meares calving.  

Considered a wildlife boat tour, the crew certainly delivered.  We saw many groups of sea lions, harbor seals, and otters.  As we skirted close to an island, we saw a black bear climbing a log.  In open water, a pod of Dall’s porpoise glided past us at lightening speeds.  I was able to photograph the rare and funny horned puffins.  And we were most blessed to see a humpback whale mother and baby.

We were in thick fog when we left and returned to Prince Williams Sound.  One of the ladies who shared their table with us for meals was from Fairbanks.  She told us that the rain was beginning to get to everyone.  With winters being so dark, Alaskans relish the sunlight of summer.  The rain was dampening everyone’s spirits. 

She was showing her childhood friend the Alaskan sites.  We found their company to be delightful and chatted about the shared independent spirits found in both Texans and Alaskans.

We have now traveled the Alaska pipeline from its origin in Prudhoe Bay to its end at the Valdez port.  It is an amazing engineering feat and an example of how environmentalists and commercial interests can work together.  Hopefully tomorrow we will be able to photograph the port that is now barely visible in the fog. 

Today we visited Valdez museums and the old town site that was washed away by the tsunami following the 1964 earthquake.  Once more, we will visit the fishery tonight, hoping for more opportunities to photograph wildlife. 

Tomorrow we leave Valdez to climb to the mouth of Worthington Glacier about thirty miles north.  We will drive to Glenallen or beyond for a campground.  The wind off the glaciers is so frigid that we fear our sleeping bags are too light to keep us warm if we camp near Worthington. 

We will most likely be out of internet access until we reach Anchorage.  Until then, dear friends, vaya con Dios.

Copper River Frenzy

We found a beautiful campsite at Liberty Falls, right next to a racing river that was so cold Roxanne “swam” only once.  She lasted about 20 seconds in the icy glacier flow before bounding back to shore.

Our site is close to the small town of Chitina, which rests between three mountain ranges and the famous Copper River.  Copper River is known for the incredible salmon that run there each year.  It has been a fascinating education, learning about the life of salmon, the territory that they migrate, and the seriousness of fishing them.

We have been introduced to fish wheels, contraptions that run by the river’s current, catching salmon in baskets that then funnel them into a catch basin.  Many fishermen use long dip nets to scoop the struggling salmon from their appointed destination.  Others use fly and tackle to land their prize.  Seagulls hover always around the fishing camps, scavenging carcasses and entrails that are tossed back into the river.

 

Chitina also marks the beginning of the McCarthy Road, an abandoned railroad bed that leads to Kennicott, at one time the largest copper mine in the country.  It is the deepest road that can be traveled into Wrangell-St. Elias National Park and Wildlife Refuge, the largest national park in the United States.

It took over two hours for us to traverse to the end of this 62-mile-long road.  Once there, we hiked a short trail, partially over alpine tundra, to Root Glacier.  

We were closely watched by a large gyrfalcon, the largest and one of the most rare in the falcon family (there are only 500 reported pairs).  She was either over-ambitiously eyeing Roxanne or was trying to move us out of her territory. 

We would have liked to visit McCarthy and Kennicott.  But the now abandoned Kennicott mine is closed to car traffic and must be traversed ten miles round trip by foot or by purchasing a ticket for a shuttle bus.  With a rather large number of tourists, having Roxanne in tow, and the weather finally warm, we opted not to visit the mine.

We returned along the same path, wanting photos of the fish wheels and salmon fishers.  Nearing the Copper River, David spied a pair of eagles.  They seemed quite uninterested that I was eagerly snapping photos.  Suddenly, another eagle flew overhead and both birds flared.  It was then that we saw the eaglet, freshly fledged on the hillside.  She launched into the air soon after we spied her.

Exhilarated from the photos, we then ventured down to the river’s edge to photograph fish wheels and the fishing frenzy.  RVs and campers lined the river's edge, while fish wheels lined the river.  

We returned to Ozzie, filled with enthusiasm.  Reluctant to leave our beautiful camping spot, the rain began again in the evening, however, making it easier to pack up for our next destination:  Valdez.  

Alaska on Dwellable