Category Archives: Antarctica to Alaska

170. Carry on Cruising

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Monday, 10 June 2019

At sea, Gulf of Alaska, USA

Even though it’s the same cruise line and, essentially, the same ship, the first thing to note that’s different about this cruise is that there’s a different type of person on board. Gone are the morbidly obese, the mobility scooters and those that look like they’ve escaped from the nursing home. There’s a slightly younger crowd now. Rather than being in a nursing home, they’ve been thinking about making enquiries for nursing homes, which they’ll need in a few years. Definitely a white middle class set. Lot more British on board too. Can only assume it’s because it’s now June and peak cruising season rather than the low season of early May?

Experiencing Force 4 wind, there’s a gentle movement of the ship on the swell. Not only is it rolling from side to side, the ship is pitching back and forth. Nothing major, but enough to warrant doing the Ministry of Silly Walks as you walk down the corridors and taking cinnarizine anti-motion sickness tablets as we cross the Gulf of Alaska.

The morning weather is sensational, bright blue sky with a bright blue and sparkly sea. However. It changes in the afternoon to become dull grey and low cloud so there’s no line on the horizon. Really hope this changes for Glacier Bay tomorrow.

What to do with a full day at sea. Apart from catching up on blog for you, dear reader, a flurry will appear in a day or so, there’s a kitchen tour in the morning. The most important part of the ship, it feeds 2,000 passengers and 800 crew, using 134 chefs and kitchen staff. Everything is made of stainless steel. It’s everywhere. First section is the dishwasher. Huge washing machines operated by 12 people to clean 3,000 dining plates, 7,000 dessert plates, 2,000 side plates and 5,000 glasses, plus all the other odds and sods. Each day.

All the supplies are loaded up in Vancouver to cover the full 14 day return trip. Various sections for In Room Dining, Cold Kitchen, Hot Kitchen, Pastry Kitchen and Bakery, where all bread is made fresh each day. 20 different types of bread including 120 loaves, 100 loaves of French bread, 4,000 cobs, 800 croissants and 800 Danish pastries.

On the deck below, are the Fish Kitchen, storerooms, Butchery, Vegetable Prep, 3 refrigerated rooms, 5 freezer rooms, 3 thawing rooms and 3 dry stores.

The Filipino and Indonesian crew are fed by their own Filipino and Indonesian chefs. Having eaten on both the Noordam and the Westerdam, all the food was excellent. Biodegradable waste is turned into mulch, dehydrated then incinerated.

Per cruise the average consumption includes:  5,300kg meat, 1,300kg fish, 2,000kg watermelon, 23,000 eggs, 24,000 sugar packets and 2,700kg rice for the crew.

After all that exertion, soon time for lunch. At this point, dear reader, I should tell you that I have become an addict. Started on the Noordam. Continues on the Westerdam.

The addiction?

Holland America’s ‘homemade’ lemonade.

Can’t get enough of the stuff.

Whilst watching the salmon cookery course in ‘America’s Test Kitchen’ after lunch, feel myself nodding off. Sign of old age. There are no windows in the small theatre and with the combination of comfy chairs, the cinnarizine and the gentle motion of the ship, it’s like being in a cradle being rocked gently to sleep.

Afternoon nap required.

And so to bed.

Just for a quick nap then I’ll crack on with diary and blog.

Yep. A quick nap. That’s all.

1hr sleep?

Nope.

2hr sleep?

Nope.

3hr sleep?

Nope.

4hrs later at 1800hrs stir from my torpor.

Well that was a productive afternoon!

169. Mary Celeste

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Sunday, 9 June 2019

At sea, Gulf of Alaska, USA

 

Unbelievably bright blue sky day. This is the life.

Absolutely cracking lunch at Chinooks. The salmon are coming upstream now and being caught. Have the freshest, tastiest salmon I’ve ever had. Sockeye, so bright red meat. The trouble with experiencing all this fresh fish is that once I return to the UK, no fish will now compete. It’s usually been frozen and transported thousands of miles. I have, once again, been spoilt. Halibut, crab, whale, salmon and prawns will never taste anywhere near as good.

For those that have a good memory, you will recall that yet another cruise has been booked to get me back to Vancouver. Original plan was to fly from Anchorage back to Seattle, a direct flight and hence why flying back from Seattle, rather than Vancouver. So enjoyable was the northbound cruise, am very grateful to  an old friend for spending some time and researching cruise departures from Seward for me. She used it as an excuse not to do some more gardening apparently.

Quite by chance, the cruise that fitted into my timescales is another Holland America trip back the way I came. This time though, it’s on the sister ship to the Noordam, the Westerdam. However, having left it late and the fact that it’s now the start of peak cruise season, have had to slum it in Veranda class. It being one of the very few cabins remaining. Rather than being at sea level in Ocean View, shall now have a veranda to sit out on deck 5.

Having experienced the over 2hrs it took last time to board the ship in Vancouver and faff about with check in, security and immigration, decide to board after lunch, despite ship not sailing until this evening at 2000hrs.

Am not looking forward to this part. 2,000 people queuing to board.

So you can imagine my utter disbelief and surprise when I walk into the check in hall to find it completely empty. Apart from a load of bored looking check in and security personnel.

Where is everyone, I ask.

It’s like the Mary Celeste.

Timed it right apparently. A load came in on the morning train from Anchorage. Another load are due on the afternoon train. Coach loads from Anchorage haven’t quite got here yet.

Great.

You can imagine the joy of being on board ship, having checked in and gone through security, in under five minutes.

Ah yes. That’s the way to do it.

Ask security what they’re actually looking for in the X-rays. Given the general age group of cruisers, somewhat surprised when he says they’re looking for guns, knives and bear spray. You would not believe how many people try and bring said stuff on to cruise ship to protect themselves from bears when on excursions, apparently.

I kid you not.

Cabin is about the same size as the Ocean View cabin I had before. Bathroom is exactly same size and layout. But has a small veranda to sit out on. The room, not the bathroom. Had I booked it much earlier and had more than a choice of three cabins (yes, this was one of three cabins left on this cruise), would have opted for a starboard side cabin, to take advantage of the sun going south. However, port side will suffice.

Lifeboat drill at 1915hrs. Slap bang in the middle of dinner. Most inconvenient. Despite the sunny weather, our lifeboat happens to be in the shade and there’s more than a few people shivering in the cold wind that blows down the Promenade Deck.

Depart Seward and sail down into Resurrection Bay.

Dear reader, I cannot begin to describe the insane views of bright blue sky, sun shining on snow capped mountains and whales spouting nearby. An awesome sight. As you will see from the video below.

Very, very lucky to experience these views. The weather has more than made up for the dreadful weather in Barrow (northern Alaska, not in-Furness).

So very, very lucky.

This is the life.

168. No hope in Hope

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Saturday, 8 June 2019

Seward, Alaska, USA

 

Have to leave Whittier on the hour to take advantage of tunnel access. Low cloud and dreary weather as I leave Whittier but after driving through the mountain, find blue sky and sun the other side.

Brief stop at the Portage Glacier visitor centre but you can only see the glacier from a boat on the lake as it’s hidden behind a mountain. Having seen enough glaciers, forego the pleasure of a boat trip.

Shortly after rejoining the Seward Highway, see many cars lining the road. Only when I cross the bridge across the river do I realise why. A dead beached whale lies on the mud flat. Closer inspection required. Can smell it before I see it. Its rotting flesh stinks. Assume it’s a humpback whale though unable to tell why it’s ended up here. Probably got caught out by the tide.

One side of the whale is open and not sure if it’s because of human interference or by animals. Plenty of ravens feasting on titbits strewn about the river bank. Busy taking photos with the woods behind me, suddenly realise this may be prime territory for a bear. Do bears eat whale? Keep watching my back nevertheless.

Seeing a sign saying ‘Historic Hope’, turn off the main road and drive 15 miles to the dead end village of Hope. What a little gem of a discovery. The joys of busking it are rewarded. Reminds me of Hornby Island or Wiseman. Chilled out and relaxed vibe about the place overlooking Turnagain Arm of the Cook Inlet. Anchorage not far as the crow flies.

Hope is where the first Alaskan gold rush took place in 1895. Hope actually got its name by a group of prospectors agreeing to name it after the next person off the boat. And that was 17 year old prospective prospector Percy Hope. You’re still learning stuff on this blog, after all these months.

Hope became a thriving gold rush town until 1898 when the Klondike gold rush and all its riches were discovered and Hope gradually became less important as all the prospectors packed up and proceeded eastwards.

Many of the houses, stores and community hall still stand exactly as they did at the turn of the last century. It’s a fascinating insight into the gold rush. Having diverted all this way at lunch time, was rather hoping the cafe would be open but it’s not. So no hope in Hope of a hoagie.

Or so I thought.

Quite by chance see a sign directing to another area of the historic village and chance upon another small café. And an interesting museum across the road. All these little gems just hidden away there to be discovered.

Museum curator is an elderly woman but she has a young volunteer. And by young, I mean young. He’s about 10 years old so assume it’s her grandson. It’s not, she has volunteers of all ages come down to help her. He’s one of them. Either that or he’s under parental pressure to do a good deed. Or he’s done something wrong and this is the penalty. Given a quick tour of the buildings along with a very brief narrative by the lad. Along the lines of, “This is the bunkhouse.”…”This is the school. The teacher used to sleep upstairs.” Bit more meat on the bones required, lad.

Still having some time available, nip back to Cooper Landing. So enjoyable was my panning for gold experience a few weeks ago at Prospector John’s, I’ll have another go. My inner kid demands it. Well, dear reader, the last time I did this I ended up with enough gold for a cup of coffee. So you can imagine my delight when I pan for gold and discover much more gold than last time. This time I have enough for five cups of coffee. 25 small gold flecks appear from the dirt. Each worth about 75 cents apparently. Exciting stuff to see the gold appear as you wash the dirt away.

Some lucky people will be getting a small souvenir of my soil sifting.

Back again to the Harbor 360 Hotel (https://harbor360hotel.com/) in Seward. Need to fill up with fuel before returning hire car. All the cars I’ve hired throughout America could be filled up with about $30 of fuel. The tank is more than half full so assume it will be about $10-20 to fill up, given that I’ve only driven about 150 miles.

Well, dear reader, you’ll be as surprised as I was to find out how thirsty the 5.7 litre engine was. $50 of fuel for 150 miles.

Crikey.

There’s only one place to eat in Seward, and that’s The Cookery. Where I went last time I was here. Remember? Last time was May. Seward wasn’t very busy. Low season. It’s now June. There’s a halibut fishing competition in Seward all month. And the salmon are swimming in. Seward is heaving with fishermen. And there’s a cruise ship in town.

Which means I have to queue to get a table. 50 minutes waiting. But it’s actually quite pleasant sitting on ‘queue chairs’ by the door with a beer. People watching.

Food is again excellent.

Pop into the liquor store to see me old mate who served me before. He scowls as he sees and recognises me. Buy a beer and he asks for my date of birth.

Here we go again…

167. Tsunami warning

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Friday, 7 June 2019

Whittier, Alaska, USA

 

Have hired a car from Hertz. I say ‘car’, it’s more of a beast. 5.7 litre Dodge Ram 1500 SUV. It’s huge. Even I have to climb up into the cabin it’s that tall. Got some oomph. Shall savour driving this.

But first a few odd jobs to do in Anchorage. The sort of mundane stuff that every traveller needs to stop and do once in a while. Post office. Haircut. Souvenirs. Lunch at an excellent little shack selling halibut tacos.

And then we’re off. Back the way I came a few weeks ago. But there’s a difference now. Last time I drove the Seward Highway northbound, I couldn’t see a flipping thing because of the heavy rain and low cloud. Now, however, realise what I missed. The sun is shining. The sky is blue. An awesome day.

Alaska keeps on giving with its snow capped mountains, rivers and inlets. The views are magnificent.

Instead of heading straight to Seward, the biker boys I met in Coldfoot persuaded me to overnight in Whittier. But to reach Whittier you have to drive through a single track tunnel, which is over 2 miles long. Built in the 1940s as a rail tunnel spur to the port of Whittier to aid the American war effort, it’s now a combined rail and vehicle tunnel. Southbound cars travel through it on the half hour. Northbound on the hour. Trains as and when.

There’s only one decent place to stay and that’s the Inn at Whittier (http://www.innatwhittier.com/). Yet another room with a view. Of snow capped mountains.

If I thought Seward had nothing to offer then Whittier has even less. Blimey. It’s a bit of a one horse town. If you could call it that.

Everywhere I look are signs for ‘Tsunami Hazard Zone’ and ‘Tsunami Evacuation Route’. There’s even a weekly test siren at 1700hrs on a Friday to test the tsunami alarm. Serious stuff.

Short walk between the marina and the rest of the town in the pedestrian tunnel under the railway line. Whittier used to be a US Army base and the old buildings have now been converted for use in the fishing industry. Does have an excellent small museum charting its history as a gold rush town, then as a US Army base in World War 2 followed by the Cold War. Russia not being too far away.

The ‘boardwalk’ is a small number of shacks selling tourist tat and food.

And that’s all Whittier has to offer.

Also a cruise port for Princess Cruise ships. One of which docks during the night and makes you realise how big these ships are when it dwarfs the hotel you’re staying in.

166. Dancing with Eskimos

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Thursday, 6 June 2019

Anchorage, Alaska, USA

 

Curtains are useless at keeping out the 24hr daylight. Killing time before the tour of Barrow starts at 1200hrs. There’s not much else to do in Barrow apart from catch up on news for an hour or so on the internet, which is surprisingly fast given how remote we are. They’ve just had a new fibre connection from the satellite receiving station.

Opposite the hotel is the famous whale bone arch. Probably Barrow’s most photographed sight. The whale jaw bones extend about 15ft above ground and 5ft below. Sadly, there’s no sun to capture the well known photo of the sun through the arch. We later see in town, an intact bowhead whale mouth skeleton. It’s about 7ft high and 20ft long. So big, that even I can stand in its mouth.

Across on the sea ice, see a seal silently slumbering. A few raucous noises from the group and it lifts his head to see what all the fuss is about, which just about adds to the photograph of it. Shown a whale storage cellar. A non-descript wooden lid by the roadside lifts up to reveal a ladder down into the permafrost, although the opening is now blocked up with ice. Below will be a large storage cellar in which the whale meat, skin and blubber is stored.

Further up the beach are three whaling boats. The whale hunt only finished a couple of weeks ago with the killing of eight bowhead whales. The boats are traditional wooden frames which are covered in seal skin. Boats are actually quite small and narrow but hold about 10 men on the hunt. Captain sits at the back steering, followed by a number of rowers with the harpooner sitting up front. They will camp out on the sea ice for as long as necessary next to the water’s edge and go hunting each day. The local Inupiat believe that the whale gives itself up to them. Being harpooner is a bit more skilled than you would imagine, he has to time it right so as not to flood the whale with water when his harpoon and ‘bomb’ go off, which means they will lose the whale, as it will sink. Each boat has a flag and have seen various people around town wearing sweatshirts with flags on. These will be crew and team members. The boats we see are now on wooden sleds as they have been hauled across the sea ice back to dry land, to prepare for the next whale hunt in the Autumn.

Once the whale has been cut up, and the boats brought back to shore, everyone celebrates the successful capture with a party on the beach. Now, dear reader, when you read about ‘party on the beach’, you’re probably thinking golden sands, hot and sunny weather. Well, think of it as a black coloured grit beach, next to the sea ice, sub zero temperatures, blowing a gale and low cloud. That’s ‘party on the beach’ Eskimo style.

On the outskirts of town are locals’ ‘summerhouses’. Basic garden sheds where you might come for the weekend to have a BBQ and invite your friends over. Bizarrely, where temperatures rarely go above freezing, the local supermarket does indeed sell BBQs. Even now, in June, many of the summerhouses are still inaccessible due to snow and drifting. Told that it’s usually always cloudy in Barrow but on a rare occasion when there is blue sky and the sun shines, workers are given a day off from work to enjoy it and is actually called a ‘Sun-day’, note it’s not Sunday. At the moment, it’s minus 6C, windy, snowing and very overcast with very low cloud. There’s not much chance of any sun any time soon. Or a BBQ.

Interesting to note that the cloud over the sea in the distance is much darker than the white cloud over the land and sea ice. The local Inupiat use this knowledge to determine where to head to for open water, rather than heading across the sea ice towards white cloud, which denotes land and ice. Can only assume that this is because the dark sea reflects on to the cloud.

Never seen so many whale bones lying around. They’re everywhere. People’s yards and by the roadside.

Drive to the northernmost point accessible to the public. This is not the northernmost point though. That’s Point Barrow and the whole point (excuse the pun) of being here. Bit miffed that I can’t get there after coming all this way. The problem seems to be that it’s on Inupiat land and you need a permit to access it. And even if you could find someone to take you and buy the permits, it’s about a 5 mile ride on a skidoo across the snow and ice. Given that I only have thin summer gear and my guide has been unable to find anyone able to take me that far, the public layby will have to do.

As with most laybys, someone has done some flytipping. In the UK, flytipping would mean finding broken white goods, furniture and other household debris. But this is Barrow. Flytipping here entails entrails of caribou heads, legs, whale carcass and a whole seal. Were it not for them being wrapped in plastic bags, you would assume it’s to entice polar bears.

So, this is it.

The northernmost point I can go on my trip.

Unless, of course, I do a North Pole excursion…

Which has actually been looked into.

But that will have to wait until my Pole to Pole trip.

Pleased to have some warmth whilst visiting the museum. Given only half an hour, glad I actually spent some time here yesterday.

Today’s highlight though is tasting whale. Because of the conference that is on, a load of whale has been cut up for afternoon tea. There’s the whale meat, a dark red tuna like substance, and the whale skin and blubber. The whale skin looks exactly like a car tyre and the attached blubber is pink and fatty and glistens. We’re invited to try it.

Well, dear reader, it’s not as bad as one might imagine. The whale skin and blubber is obviously very fatty and has a gelatinous texture, like eating the fat from a ribeye steak. There are four stages of eating whale skin and blubber: hesitation, consumption, realisation and contortion. When you realise what it tastes like and how the texture feels.

The whale meat is frozen raw meat. The best description is that it looks and tastes like frozen raw tuna. Both dishes need a sprinkling of salt to add to the flavour.

Not as bad as the putrefied shark I once ate in Iceland, which was vile, whale meat isn’t that bad.

Could do with a mint though to get rid of the aftertaste.

And if that wasn’t exciting enough, a display of local Inupiat dancing at the community centre. If I had to sit through it, dear reader, then you have to watch the video below. There’s only so much local dancing I will put up with for you!

The tourists are invited to join in at the end. Rather than throw some Eskimo shapes on the dance floor, it’s more Dad dancing. Don’t worry, I won’t put you through it, to sit and watch me doing dancing. In any event, the video is safely in my keep, never to see the light of day again.

Finish off with some party games. Inupiat yo-yo consists of two stuffed seal skin pom-poms, the idea of which is to get them going in opposite directions as you flick the strings attached to each of them. Followed by getting the hole of an animal vertebrae through a bone, much like trying to get a hoop on a stick.

Final demonstration is of a tapered bone attached to a long string which is then spun round at high speed, which creates a whizzing sound. You’ll no doubt remember the film Crocodile Dundee, when Mick Dundee went to call in help from his aboriginal friends by whizzing around, in effect, the same thing.

There’s also a memorial to Will Rogers and Wiley Post, entertainer and aviator respectively, who crashed in Post’s experimental aircraft nearby in 1935.

Early evening flight back to Anchorage. Barrow’s airport is so small that security check by hand all the checked in bags. But hand luggage is X-rayed.

Soon flying over the Arctic tundra and into the clouds, which dissipate as we near Anchorage revealing stunning landscapes.

Positively tropical in Anchorage after a couple of days sub zero. Nice to see the sun set from my bedroom in the Captain Cook hotel (https://captaincook.com/).

Another room with a view.

165. The northernmost point

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Wednesday, 5 June 2019

Barrow (Utqiagvik), Alaska, USA

 

0530hrs is way too early to get up to catch a flight. Bleary eyed, board the flight to Barrow, the northernmost point of continental USA. Due to the late booking there was only a seat available in First Class (which is really Business). Boarding gate announces that they welcome First Class passengers to board first. Scruffy oil worker standing next to me says to me, “That’s got to be you hasn’t it.” He’s not wrong. He’s got me sussed alright.

Ninety minutes flying the route I’ve just driven, manage to see glimpses of the Dalton Highway snaking through the landscape like a gymnast’s ribbon. Brief stop in Prudhoe Bay to offload the oil workers and pick up new ones on rotation. Didn’t think I’d ever be back here again. Descend through fog into Prudhoe Bay and it’s only about 300ft above ground that we see land. Still cold. Still foggy.

Half hour flight from Prudhoe Bay to Barrow.

The northernmost point of continental USA.

The most northerly I’ve ever travelled to.

71 degrees.

17 minutes.

26 seconds.

North.

If I thought Prudhoe Bay was cold, barren and remote, Barrow is even worse.

Only accessible by air or sea (during the summer months).

Minus 6C. Snowing. Windy.

About as remote as you can get.

First impression is the amount of debris, junk and rubbish lying about. It’s everywhere you look.

Short shuttle transfer to the Top of the World Hotel (http://www.tundratoursinc.com/). One of the few hotels in town. Once again, a site hut type hotel.

Warned that a polar bear was seen outside the hotel yesterday morning. Oh great. If it’s not grizzly bears trying to gobble you up in the woods, it’s polar bears having you for breakfast in the snowy wastelands of the north.

Have booked a half day tour of Barrow tomorrow. So an afternoon walk to the local museum. It’s actually colder than Antarctica but only have summer gear with me unfortunately. Brisk walk to try and keep body temperature up. My first impressions are compounded when I walk the dirt roads through the homes of the locals. Staggered how much debris there is. Literally hundreds of knackered and smashed up skidoos and old cars left to rot on people’s property. Somewhat eye opening but as I’m later told, there’s no where really for them to dispose of them properly. There’s an annual barge in September, when the sea ice has melted, that takes household waste away from the waste station in town but that’s it. All the houses are wooden type shacks and you wonder how they could keep warm as a number look like simple garden sheds. Very basic living.

The Cotswolds it isn’t.

Museum has a conference on so much of the exhibition is closed to the public, apart from the section on whaling. The local Eskimos in this North Slope region are called ‘Inupiat’ and whaling, still practiced today, is part of their heritage. Whatever your views on whaling and preservation, they whale for subsistence. Bowhead whales pass by in both the Spring and Autumn and the Inupiat are one of the few that go out whaling twice a year. Using their wooden framed boats covered in seal skin, they camp out on the sea ice at the water’s edge and go hunting. Once the whale is harpooned, it is their culture not to celebrate but pay their respects to the whale and its spirit by having a period of silence before the whale is brought back to the sea ice. The Inupiat believe that the whale gives itself to them.

Once hauled on to the sea ice, the whale is carved up and custom dictates that certain sections of the whale go to different parties, such as the captain of the boat, the harpooner, the crew, people that have helped bring the whale to the sea ice shore, people that have helped cut up the whale. Once cut up and distributed, the whale is put in a storage cellar below ground in the permafrost to preserve the whale throughout the year until the next whaling.

The museum is also a bit of a community centre and a group of old Eskimos gather to sing songs accompanied by a small group of musicians. They seem to be singing in the local Inupiat language but I can’t help but recognise the tune and certain words. The adjoining library is excellent and well stocked with a good and interesting selection of books.

It’s another cold walk through the biting wind back to the hotel which necessitates popping into the local supermarket and post office to thaw out enroute. Supermarket is surprisingly well stocked, though food costs quite a lot.

No alcohol on sale though. This is a dry town. Or to be more precise, a ‘damp’ town. Like being in the Middle East, you need an alcohol licence to purchase alcohol and limited rations per month.

Fortunately, hotel has an excellent restaurant and it’s a pleasurable dinner looking out over the Arctic Ocean.

Russia to the left of me.

North Pole in front of me.

164. Anchored down in Anchorage…

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Tuesday, 4 June 2019

Anchorage, Alaska, USA

 

Glorious day but the first half is wasted catching up on admin, such is life on the road. Unlike Fairbanks, Anchorage has a number of interesting things to offer the traveller. Anchorage Museum contains a superb collection of Eskimo artefacts and a planetarium, along with an excellent restaurant. Good few hours spent perusing the history of Eskimos (and I use this word as an umbrella term for all the various First Alaskan native tribes such as Inupiat, Inuit, Atahabascan etc), rather than a derogatory term. Having discussed the term with a number of locals, there’s seems to be a varied understanding of what ‘eskimo’ means. Some say it’s now derogatory whilst some say it can be used as a general term as described above. Merely as an observation though, all the drunken ‘hobos’ I see about town are generally ‘eskimo’.

Excellent bus trip around Anchorage and the tour guide is Alaskan but has spent two years volunteering in South Kensington, London. She’s beginning to wonder why she left South Kensington. Captain Cook once sailed up here on an adventure and his statue stands looking out over the Cook Inlet. One house in the suburbs is built underground and a few glass domes only give a hint of what lies beneath. This was an old fashioned method of construction in times gone by to protect against the elements, albeit the ground it’s dug into is permafrost.

Near to the international airport is the world’s largest float plane airport. Given the wide expanse of wilderness and preponderance of lakes, this is the only way to reach many settlements.

At ‘Earthquake Park’, see the effect of the massive 9.4 magnitude Good Friday earthquake in 1964. Anchorage sits astride the Pacific and Atlantic tectonic plates. The earthquake caused the Pacific plate to drop down 25m and the park demonstrates the drop. The car park is on the Atlantic tectonic plate but the adjacent woods are on the Pacific plate below. The 25m drop is immediate and sharp. Amazing to see how clearly defined the plates are.

163. Trundling train time to type

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Monday, 3 June 2019

Anchorage, Alaska, USA

 

Letting the train take the strain again for the 400 mile and 12hrs rail journey to Anchorage. Instead of travelling Gold Class with the cruise ship tourists, have opted for ‘Adventure’ class.

Economy. In other words.

Now I don’t want you to fret, I’ll be OK. I can do this. Promise. We all have to make sacrifices. Having done the northbound rail journey last week, I don’t need to look out the window all the time and make sure I see everything.

Today is set aside to take time to type as the train trundles through the tundra.

Which is why tonight you had a lot of blog posts. 6,500 words to catch up on. More than I ever wrote for my dissertation at university over 3 months. Glad to hear I nearly made Bloss late for work again.

So, not much to report and not many photographs as you will have seen them all in last week’s blog post.

You’ll see a photo below which relates to the Nenana Ice Classic. This is a local competition to guess the exact time and date that the Tanana River ice will break up in the Spring. Started as a small bet between friends in 1906 and in 1917 had increased to $800, when the betting was resurrected by the railway engineers. Annual betting now is in the region of a total of $400,000 as to when the ice will break up. A tripod is placed in the river ice and attached by a wire to a clock on the river bank. When the tripod moves, denoting the ice breaking up, the clock stops. And the lucky winner is announced.

Highlight of the day though is towards the end. The clouds disappear from Denali, formerly known as Mount McKinley, and we’re afforded a magnificent view of its summit. A rare sight apparently due to its own cloud system.

Return to the Voyager Inn (https://thevoyagerinn.com/) and as it has no bar for a beer, am directed to the liquor store next door. Before even entering, the security guard demands to see my ID. Checking for red stripes, denoting being banned from buying alcohol for a driving under the influence offence, and age restrictions.

Deary me.

Anyone can buy a gun no problem.

But getting a beer…

162. Train friendly

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Sunday, 2 June 2019

Fairbanks, Alaska, USA

 

Leisurely and slow start to the day. That’s the trouble with little celebrations the night before.

Taking advantage of the high speed wifi, upload a lot of photos and videos for you, dear reader. There’ll be a flurry of blog posts coming soon. But you already knew that by the time you read this.

The trouble with Fairbanks, and I suppose with America in general, is that you can’t really judge a restaurant by its external appearance. The Thai restaurant doesn’t look very appealing from the outside. It’s in a dodgy area and has a garage like façade. But it’s great inside.

The same goes with today’s café for lunch. It looks a bit grimy on the outside but once inside it’s a fresh and modern café with excellent food.

Having resorted to Trip Advisor to see what the top 10 things to do in Fairbanks are, opt first for the Museum of the North up at the University campus. By coincidence, an English couple from Cambridge also ask hotel reception to phone for a taxi to the museum at the same time so we agree to share. Museum is indeed well worth a visit and details the history of northern Alaska with many artefacts. Follow it up with a visit to the Fairbanks Auto Museum. Quite a large collection of privately owned cars dating from 1890s through to the 1930s. The 1890s cars are the sort you would see running in the London to Brighton Veteran Car rally but he’s never taken them abroad.

Back to the Thai restaurant I go. In all my years of working and travelling abroad, I have, surprisingly, only ever seen two women eat in a restaurant on their own. One was in Dublin and one was in Gourdes, France. Men on the other hand, I see regularly dining on their own. It’s what you have to do when working away from home. Tonight, however, that tally doubles. There are two women dining on their own at separate tables.

Beautiful Thai waitress takes my order again. Have gone for a culinary change. No Red Thai Chicken Curry extra extra spicy. Explain that I’m on a train for 12hrs tomorrow so need something less spicy.

She replies, “I’ll make it train friendly then!” and an excellent and tasty pork and aubergine dish is served up. As much as I like fresh fish and meat, it’s been nice to have a change of diet.

Approached by another drunken Eskimo on my way back to hotel.

He’s after two dollars.

Probably for another can of Special Brew.

Or whatever it is they drink up here.

160. WAHOO!! Made it…journey’s end at Prudhoe Bay

1 Reply

Friday, 31 May 2019

Coldfoot, Alaska, USA

 

Up early.

Excited.

This is it folks.

Fasten your seatbelts.

The final few miles.

To the end of the road.

And the Arctic Ocean in Prudhoe Bay.

This has been the objective for all those months of travelling.

Have missed breakfast. Breakfast starts at 0400hrs. That’s not breakfast. That’s a midnight feast.

Short drive to another hotel, the Deadhorse Camp Hotel. Glad I’m staying at the Aurora Hotel. About a dozen of us have paid to go on the Arctic Ocean shuttle bus. Which is meant to depart at 0830hrs. Having rushed around like a blue bottomed fly to get here on time, I hate it when others are then late. Sat waiting for 15mins for two that are late.

Bet they’re French. It’s always the French.

But no.

Two lads cycle towards us. It’s minus 3C with a minus 10C windchill and they’re cycling along with bare hands. Stupid fools. They’re to ride home to Boston. Apparently.

Arctic Ocean access necessitates driving into a restricted oil drilling area operated by BP. Pass through the security checkpoint. As with most security checkpoints, it’s job creation rather than any security. Shuttle bus driver is mates with security guard. A nod and a wave and we’re through.

Drive through the oil fields with drilling rigs, offices, site establishment, workshops, plant and machinery yards and laydown areas with pipe spools. Having worked in the oil & gas and petro-chem industries, I am in my element. This is interesting stuff.

And then.

There it is.

The end of the road.

Quite literally.

The Arctic Ocean beyond the barrier.

Driver tells us to watch out for polar bears. If he honks his horn three times we’re to immediately rush back to the bus. Means there’s a polar bear coming.

Erm.

WHAT?!

Polar bears. Oh great. Make it this far and get gobbled up by a polar bear.

Not one to get emotional, I am actually a bit choked when I walk down to the water’s edge, keeping an eye out for polar bears.

I can go no further.

This is it.

My end point.

The longest and most adventurous trip I’ve ever done.

All those months of planning. All those years of grafting long hours to fund this little jaunt. All those months of travelling each day. Apart from the Alaska car ferry being cancelled at the last minute, everything has, very surprisingly, gone according to plan.

I am, quite frankly, chuffed to bits.

At times like this, it does make you wonder if someone is looking down on you.

Of all the places, find that I have a strong 4G phone signal. The first in two days. A few WhatsApp video calls to friends is in order. They’re all sitting at home on a Friday night, it’s a nice warm spring evening it seems. But I can only hold the phone in my hands for a few minutes at a time as it’s so cold. Not wanting frost bite at this late stage, it’s a case of video call, plunge hands into trouser pockets to warm up, video call, plunge hands into trouser pockets. And repeat. It’s chuffing freezing.  None of them can hardly hear what I’m saying because the wind is howling around me. All they can see is a frozen friend, wrapped up in waterproof clothing, sexy pashmina (free to a good home at the end of this trip…ladies…anyone want it??) and woolly hat. Like charades, it’s a case of point at the ice floes on the Arctic Ocean and giving a thumbs up and an award winning smile. Thankfully they get it.

Told a few celebratory drinks were drunk on my behalf tonight in the UK, Germany and Brasil.

So, dear reader, I know this news is slightly delayed because of my tardiness in keeping up with blogs, in part due to lack of internet access, but feel free to raise a glass and join me in a little drink to celebrate.

WAHOO!

Made it!

Antarctica to Alaska. TICK!

Cheers!

Bus driver has given us an hour. That’s a bit optimistic. After 15mins we’re all seeking the warmth of the bus. Such is the windchill.

Back the way we came through the BP oilfield restricted area. Buildings are either built on the permafrost or on stilts. They’re built on stilts to enable air to circulate underneath which makes the permafrost remain frozen. Where they’re built on the permafrost, pipes are buried under the foundations and vented to atmosphere. This is a form of passive cooling. The vent pipes take the heat out of the ground and maintain the permafrost in its frozen state.

Told that the Brooks Camp has rather a good shop for souvenirs, make a quick detour and find the sign at the entrance denoting the end of the Dalton Highway.

Souvenirs bought. Postcards sent. You lucky few.

There’s no other reason to stay any longer than necessary in Deadhorse, so as one shepherd said to the other, “Let’s get the flock out of here.”

Only one way up and only one way down. Back along the Dalton Highway. The first 50 miles along the causeway is now quite slippery. A few earthscrapers are levelling the road and to suppress the dust, large water bowsers are spraying water along the road. The gravel is obviously on a dirt base and with the water combines to make a slippery surface.

I can assure you there were a few squeaky bum moments as the car drifted on the straight and the corners in the gravel/mud slush. With a steep, long drop down to the Arctic tundra below. Might have been rallying a bit too much.

See a cyclist heading north. He looks a bit frozen. He’s German. Cycling from Fairbanks to Prudhoe Bay. And I thought it was only mad dogs and Englishmen.

Enter the valley through the Brooks Mountain range. Have made good progress and thinking to myself I really don’t want a puncture after all this. The tyres are getting a real hammering on the washboard section followed by a heavily potholed section. At one point, hit a pothole that is bigger and deeper than anticipated.

There’s a loud bang from the suspension.

The sort that cricks your neck.

That was a heavy hit.

The sort that would puncture a tyre.

But there’s no deflation.

Phew.

Survived that one.

Thankfully.

Continue driving.

And then.

A few minutes later.

The tyre pressure indicator warning light illuminates on the dashboard.

Oh.

Clucking.

Bell.

That’s.

All.

I.

Chuffing.

Need.

Still north of the Brooks Mountain Range. Still have to cross the Atigun Pass at 4,800ft.

Sod it.

Resigned to having to change a wheel. Stop the car. Jump out. Inspect the deflated tyre.

But.

They’re all seemingly in good order. After giving each a kick.

No flat tyre.

Sod it.

Must be a slow puncture.

Right. Will continue on as far as possible. I know there’s a pipeline/highway maintenance workshop the other side of the Atigun Pass. They’ll be able to help if I can’t get the wheel nuts off.

Gingerly drive to the top of the Atigun Pass. A few miles further up the road. Stop for a tyre check. I mean giving them a kick. Nope. All inflated. Must be a slow puncture. But which one?

Down the other side, pull in at the workshop. Another tyre check. Have now driven about 10 miles. None of the tyres seem to be deflating. They all look fine. They all feel at pressure.

Hmmmm.

It’s about 70 miles to my overnight stop at Coldfoot Camp. Can I really be that lucky and make it there on the tyres?

Stop after another 20 miles. Tyres seem to be holding pressure.

Hmmmm.

Wonder if it could possibly be a sensor issue. It being knocked when the suspension grounded on the pothole.

35 miles from Coldfoot, at the junction for Dietrich, the gravel road transforms into silky smooth tarmac all the way back. Tyres feel fine. No change in steering.

Seeing a man walking with a trolley, stop to have a chat. Realise it’s the camper whose tent I saw yesterday on the way up to Deadhorse. He’s Matias Tartiere. A Brasilian walking the world over two and a half years. He started in Turkey and walked through Europe to Morocco. Then started at Prudhoe Bay and walking all the way down to Ushuaia, at the southern end of Argentina, and from where I’ve come from. From there he will then fly to Asia and walk all the way across Asia and down to Cape Town. Google ‘matias tartiere the walk around the world’ and you’ll see his trip.

And I thought I was doing a big trip.

Such is my confidence that the tyres are OK and it is a sensor issue, make a detour to Wiseman.

Founded at the turn of the 19th century, Wiseman is a former gold mining settlement and a nice quirky little place. Couple of small accommodations, husky dog kennels can be seen as you enter. A reminder of life below zero. Very quiet and peaceful small village. Even has a grass strip runway with a solitary single engine light aircraft. Most of the houses appear to be old fashioned log cabins. It’s a great little place. Seeing a sign for local jewellery and crafts follow the road and meet up with Nikki, the jeweller. Invited inside her house she shares with husband Jack. Wow. What an interesting couple and an interesting place. For the first time, I get a feel for the real Alaska. Being in a real Alaskan home, with real Alaskan people. Made very welcome. Most ‘Alaskans’ I’ve met thus far are not from Alaska.

Shown some jewellery which is centred on locally shot coyotes. And the teeth thereof. Not convinced that my nieces would be prepared to go out dancing and romancing with a coyote tooth necklace, I purchase one myself as a souvenir.

Jack is cutting up moose steaks for dinner. Nikki shot the moose last November and the photos of it make you realise how big a moose really is. Jack has lived here since he was 13 years old and latterly used to operate hunting trips in the area. Now it’s all subsistence hunting and living off the land. A small vegetable patch has recently been planted for the crops to be harvested later in the year. A small trapdoor in the kitchen floor opens up to reveal a larder which remains at 2C to 8C because of the permafrost. The potatoes they’re having for dinner were harvested last year and stored.

Jack maintains the Wiseman museum. A small log cabin full of interesting local artefacts. It’s a fascinating place.

Wiseman is a bit of a find. Jack has also whet my appetite for an aurora trip next winter. Wiseman sits at 67deg North, which is directly beneath the high intensity aurora ring. The photos he shows me are stunning and he describes the magical moment when it was pitch black outside one winter when suddenly the aurora lit up the sky and the green glow reflected off the surrounding snow.

Sounds amazing.

Back at Coldfoot Camp again. Time for a celebratory beer. Am joined by two bikers, who remind me of the Hairy Bikers from BBC TV. They’re travelling up from Minnesota to Atigun Pass then back down to Las Vegas to meet their wives. Really enjoyable evening with a few beers to celebrate. Nice to be in company with similar views on life.

Thanks lads!

Great end to a great day.

One of life’s great days.

Of which there have been many on this trip.