Wednesday, August 20, 2008

hiking my hiney

So the last couple of weeks in Alaska seemed to have packed a whole summer amount of fun. It was almost like each day was trying to one up the one before. After I got off my last full shift on the trail, good times instantly began. Thursday, the park service in its recurring nature, had a potluck to say goodbye to a couple of the supervisors who are leaving to go work for the NPS in Hawaii, hence the party had an Alaskan/Hawaiian theme. The house where the party was held seemed to be decorated in coordination with the theme, including several fish on the walls, a lamp that highlighted moose silhouettes, and various other Cabella’isque furnishings. However, I am not sure if the hostess did it on purpose or if was by coincidence. Nonetheless, it provided an appropriate background for a bunch of people sitting around in bathrobes and gaiters.
The next day my friend Tim and I decided to hike to Upper Dewey Lake and Devil’s Punchbowl. These are two of the highest hiking destinations in the area. Though the elevation is not much to boost of the elevation gain from sea level is noteworthy, in 3 miles you gain about 4,500 feet. Why Alaskans do not believe in switchbacks is an eternal mystery. For the hike we didn’t have much sunshine, but we were lucky the rain stopped just long enough to leave a muddy path and clear the clouds. Once you pass through the meadow, you arrive at the lake that is set right in the middle of the mountain range. You don’t think that it could get any better till you reach Devil’s Punchbowl which sits about a mile above Upper and is formed by glacier water. Both provide a bird eye’s view of Skagway and the surrounding area. One of the highlights was seeing a little marmot near the lake. He was coy enough to come out of his little home just long enough to allow a picture to be snapped before he would slip back in and then repeat the process. We spent about 15 minutes being amused by the little guy, as we pretended that we were the first ones to ever see this guy, when in reality he probably plays the same game with everyone who passes by in hopes of getting treats. Eventually, after swapping cameras and taking one too many pictures, including a live recording of the “fresh Prince” theme song on top of some boulders, Tim and I headed down the mountain and onto dance night at the Red Onion, where the combination of bad music, bright lights and drunk Alaskan seasonals and locals equals quality YouTube material.
The next day, Tim and I decided on a whim that instead of climbing to go hike to Lost Lake and camp out. Neither of us had been there but we heard the trail was sort of gnarly and that there might not be many places to camp. Sounded like an adventure to us. We packed our stuff and drove to the trail. Now when I say trail, I mean the 1 flat mile road that leads up to the 2 mile, 75 degree vertical, jungle forest bushwhacking path that leads to the lake. About half a mile from the lake, the trail places you at an amazing lookout of the whole Dyea valley. When we did finally reach the lake, we were both more than pleased. Tucked in among thick trees, the whole area was almost silent. We looped around the lake and found a great campsite. We setup our tent, ate my makeshift dinner, and hung our bear packs up in the tree. As we sat on the rocks, brushing our teeth, we realized the lake was perfect for the echo game. After we got done shouting silly things into the echo chamber, we matured about 6 years and headed into the tent, eventually falling asleep. The next morning, we woke up really early and headed out. On the way out, we collected a whole nalgene bottle full of blueberries. Just as we were finishing we spotted a little black bear sprint away. Apparently he had the same idea, but wasn’t in the mood to socialize. We got back into town, showered and headed to church. That night after church, I went to the local rec center to play a game of pickup soccer. It was mostly guys off the cruise ship who didn’t really speak English but with my friend Marc, our team managed to get a few goals.
Monday I had plans to do something other than hiking to break up the 12 day streak I was on, but then I got invited by my friend Rosie and Nicole to go to Goat Lake, the one hike I have wanted to do. Goat Lake is not actually an official hike. It is located just past American Customs as you head into Canada. The trail follows the Goat Lake pipeline, which uses hydroelectricity to power parts of Skagway. You can see the pipeline go all the way up the mountain from the road. As a result, the hike is kind of a choose your own adventure event. Trying to figure out how to climb up boulders, through alder, and up rocks, makes you almost forget you are hiking. Finally after clearing the tree line and passing the waterfall, we leveled out and reached the lake. The lake itself is one of the most breathtaking I have seen yet in Alaska. The color of it faded from green to turquoise to blue and back again. It was perfectly placid and we were blessed with a rare sunny day. As you look east of the lake you can see some of the highest peaks in the area along the Sawtooth ridge. Once the sun went down, we decided it was time to race back. When I got back, I had no need to worry about what I was going to eat because some guy from work brought over almost 20lbs of fresh King Salmon to grill and bake. (The salmon are currently running down the river in town to the ocean) So, as to be expected, the park service crew pulled together a potluck complete with salads, rolls, desserts, grains, and soup. It was the kind of meal that makes people who say they don’t like salmon, like salmon.
The next day I stayed strong to my resolve to do something other than hiking my last day before work. Luckily, after finding some guy in town who owns a golf cart and trailer, my friend Marc and I were able to go kayaking. We got dropped off at the small boat harbor, planned our journey and took off. I have done quite a bit of sea kayaking but not in a hard-shell kayak. At first I thought I was going to tip myself over and get tangled in my kayak skirt, but by the end I felt more comfortable in the kayak then walking on land. Marc and I took our time getting out of the harbor and preparing ourselves for the waves. We got into a flow and cruised on down along the coast. Along the way we saw some seals lying on the rocks and two bald eagles swoop by to their perch. After about an hour and half we ended up at Sturgills landing for lunch. After lunch, just as we were getting back into our kayaks we saw a giant whale flip its tail in the area and splash it town just in front of us! We watched as it continued on, both knowing it is one of those really cool experiences you can tell people but never explain how awesome it really was. We decided to just get back in our kayaks and go in search of the only nature experience cooler, seeing two bears fight... kidding. Instead, we crossed over the inlet to Burrow Creek, which is the recently closed last privately owned fish hatchery in Alaska. It’s pretty interesting because all the tools and infrastructure are still in place. As you hike up the trail you pass several waterfalls and wading pools. It had a bit of an eerie feel to it all. Eventually, we decided to end our nature journey before the waves got too large. As we hit the harbor, the once cloudy day became sunny. Great timing. So we made some delicious dinner, as I packed my bag for the trail and watched a movie.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

bushwhack this

In case any of you are worried that I am getting too happy out here and my ego is growing beyond control, oh don't you worry, the pack I had to carry out on trail full of necessities (after 4 shifts you know the bare minimum of what to bring) for 8 days was a humbling experience enough. Of course, any time you attempt to carry a heavy pack similar to the size of a small child on your back into the backcountry in attempts to immerse yourself in nature while still maintaining a certain amount of cultural and human comfort you are bound to be a humbled a bit by altitude, fauna, rocks and distance.

This last week on the trail was a unique opportunity- I got to meet The Godfather of trail making. Who is this you ask? Let me tell you. He is the type of guy who filters coffee through his teeth, considers different shades of jeans "a varied wardrobe", would definitely own an official "I have a great beard" card if they existed, and can pull of wearing an outer frame backpack. The first two days on the trail, our crew got the opportunity to walk the trail with The Godfather and his apprentice. The Godfather has worked all over the country for the park service and is one of the foremost experts on building trail bridges. Currently, he is retired but they convinced him to come out for a special assignment to asses the trail and bridges on the Chilkoot. In the 70's he came out during the construction of the trail to design and recommend all the bridges for the park. All of the bridges remaining from that time period, including my 2 favorite suspension bridges (think Indiana Jones) were designed by him. Yet, his specialty is not limited to bridges, oh no. as we hiked the trail, he pointed out thing after of thing of areas that could be improved, parts done well, and the theory behind building trails. The 8 hours we spent with him were probably the most informational all summer. The only problem is now, my usually pleasant and pleased hike on the trail, is now consumed with radar signals of flaws. Its like dad watching a Hollywood movie on bombs, it's almost impossible to enjoy because you know all the things they are doing wrong. Yet, its fun because now we have plenty of things to do the rest of the season, including my new favorite trail keeping chore- bridge cleaning. For some reason there is something therapeutic about scraping a bridge clean. It's like dusting the wilderness. The rest of the days we spent taking care of smaller projects and hiking back and forth on the trail to and from our cabin. We hiked about 65 miles in 8 days, averaging about 8 miles a day on not so flat ground. I now call the Chilkoot Trail the Chilkoot Commute. I really can tell my kids that I had to walk to work uphill both days.

The days off had their own charm as well. A couple of days I did a few really great hikes. One to a great coastal look out where you can't see any signs of civilization and the sun was out just long enough for me to pretend it was summer as I laid on the rocks. The next one, my friend Marc and I attempted to reach the notch which is the false summit of the Chilkoot Trail summit that I work on. Yet, one of the best days had to be the July 24th. Like the Fourth of July, the church's Pioneer Day has become a long forgotten memory. But trust me Mormons know how to have a good celebratory time even in Alaska. For the big day, the branch put on a delicious bbq and old school series of games. All the classics were present: running with an egg on the spoon, three-legged race, egg toss, and a wagon race. For the wagon race, a team of four had to get around the soccer field with a wheelbarrow, collecting various heaving antiques in the fastest time possible. Despite my burning desire to beat the reigning champions, my team "Quick and Dirty" did not win. Forgetting all values my pioneer ancestors worked for, after the party a few of us went to check out a charity drag show at the Red Onion Saloon. A few males dressed in bad dresses was all the incentive I needed to go join my roommates at acoustic night down the street.

My last shift spent less time on the trail but did include some pretty cool training. For our next shift we will be working on a fall zone a.k.a. if you step too heavily on a section of the trail you will fall 70ft down the cliff edge to your death. So, as you can imagine a bit of safety training and equipment is necessary. We managed to spend $1500 on gear in a couple of hours at the climbing shop. I actually got paid to look at, try on and play with climbing gear that I can only dream of affording right now. The rest of the afternoon we spent making anchors, learning different knots and other safety tricks. Yet, after a couple of city days and tadpole hunting, it was incredibly refreshing to be back out on the trail again.

However, one of the more atypical days of the shift was spent with the biological technician doing a toad survey. It was typical in the fact that we had to hike up hill in muddy weather, wearing gators, chomping devil's club and enjoying the elements surrounded by glaciers. The "aaaaaa" part of it was the fact that we were bushwhacking through trees, swamps and mosquitoes in search of a dime-sized amphibian the same color of the water it habitats in. After we hiked we arrived at a meadow about 2 miles long and 1 mile wide. Each of us spread out along the width and begin the weary search forward. Minus the few small keeper holes I fell into, all seemed to be going well, till my roommate and I found ourselves immersed in alders (small thick bush-like trees). After about an hour of me blindly leading us forward, contorting our limbs to get through, we managed to emerge our scraped selves out into a clearing only to become mugged by mosquitoes. Eventually, by using the very technical communication process of "yelling and waiting for response", we managed to end up with the rest of the group who equally dealt with the labyrinth. Surprisingly, spirits were high and humorous though no one actually found a tadpole other than the one at the very beginning of the hike. Needless to say with 7 of us out there for 5 hours, two on overtime pay, the one sighted tadpole is the most expensive amphibian I have ever seen.

wading through the yukon

The last couple of weeks have been days packed full with events and experiments. You would think it a town of 5 streets by 20 blocks would be lacking and content with boredom. But oh no give it to Alaska to prove me wrong. Each day is packed with opportunity and a taste of something out of ordinary. After I got off the trail, I decided to spend my government stimulus check on a trip to anchorage and Denali. I have friend who was going to be in the area conveniently during my days off. In fact the only inconvenient part of the whole trip was trying to not to keep from laughing the entire time. So to get to the other side of the state, I decided to be frugal and take the ferry to Juneau. I heard many good things and it was interesting enough. However, the rainy weather and my own lack of sleep beforehand due to celebration of summer solstice, made it hard for me to stay awake. Yet, I did manage to keep my eyes open long enough to see plenty of glaciers, sea lions, beautiful coastlines and lose my wallet. After a brief visit to the thrift store and plenty of time to read in Juneau, I flew to anchorage.

The rest of the trip was filled with random events and plenty of good times. We kept ourselves busy driving along the coast, going to a nature reserve, visiting some stores, watching movies, playing scrabble, eating, and just lying about trying to suck every breath out of our vacation. We spent a couple of nights in the quirky little tourist base camp town Talkeetna, popular among those attempting to climb McKinley, RV’ers and those going to Denali. We stayed in my first ever American hostel. I don’t know what I expected, so when I found myself in a place that easily fit the description of “Grandma’s House” it was somehow comforting in a strange way. Pat, age 71, pseudo converted her house into a hostel, by making tons of little rooms filled with large beds, quilts, odd knickknacks and homemade curtains. The downstairs held no air of formality, doors were not locked, the kitchen is stocked with goodies, and you are likely to meet people from all over the world watching Jeopardy in the family room. Other than explorative hikes along the river and meals at the local Smokehouse, we found it almost most pleasurable to just lie on the bed talking and messing around on the computer. We did extend ourselves long enough to make it to Denali where the rain was relentless, yet the wilderness did grace us with sightings of sheep, a bear, a moose, an owl and a caribou. Quickly the time came and it was time for us to part. I flew to Juneau, spent the night in the airport then flew early in the morning to Skagway. Only leaving myself enough time to drop my bag, pack my stuff and head off on the trail in the same morning.

The trail once again provided plenty of natural silence, long hikes, manual labor, sunny days, and a reason to act like 12 year old boy looking for trouble. I have found in the past the best tactic for me to overcome a fear or something I dislike is to immerse my self in the very thing that I have tried to avoid. If anyone has hiked or climbed with me near water they know, mostly because I will say it over and over, that I really do hate having to walk on wet rocks in the process of crossing water. So when I found out that we had to jump in the ever growing river to tear apart a bridge, my body swayed between hesitation and anticipation. My emotions were quickly distracted by the fact I got to put on hip waders. If they weren’t so big and I wasn’t wearing park service clothes underneath I would go so far as to say there are almost cute in a way. With waders strapped to our belt buckles, all of us picked up our crowbars and threw on an extra layer and plunged into the icy water. Of course the idea that we got to destroy something attracted a couple of the backcountry rangers to volunteer to help us. By the time we all were in the water and started pounding and prying away, there was one too many boys in the water trying to be men. After ripping off a couple of planks, I decided to go the shore and nail down all the rusty nails on the wet boards as they flung them to me. After a quick couple of hours the job was done and we felt quite happy with ourselves. Enough so to go relax in the cabin, drinking tea and reading till we warmed our limbs. The rest of the day wasn’t as thrilling, as we were back in our regular old work clothes, hiking along, doing so re-routing. I don’t know if I overcome my fear of wet rocks but I discover I need hip waders.

The next few days were spent on the re-routing, which is actually quite fun. It’s like putting together a picture with nature’s puzzle pieces. Everything around us becomes a building material. Basically, we identify areas where water or erosion has caused the trail to be dangerous or inconvenient. Then we figure out what needs to be done, usually this involves find large stones to put as steps, creating a new path, digging water channels, clearing the trail of roots, putting up signs, etc. I also got to spend a whole sunny afternoon in one of the few meadows along the river. If it wasn’t for the hum of my weed whacker and the fact I was clearing a space for an emergency evacuation helicopter, it would almost have been romantic. The 8 days went quickly and almost every opportunity to enjoy the sun was taken. For our hike out the weather decided to jolt our routine and pleasure of the sun by being overcast and rainy. Our hike out soaked us to the bone to the point where we forgot we were ever dry. However, our excitement could not be dampened by the rain. What were we so excited for- hot meals, dry clothes, a social life? Oh no, the raft! For the last few miles of our descent, the trail crew has a raft which takes us with the river, past the final hill and straight to the ranger station. This is the one place during the hike where the weather was welcomed. The water levels had risen to make the usually temperate ride almost unpredictable and fog lingered in long stretches like gray fingers over the water. I couldn’t feel my own hands, but the smile on my face never waivered. Eventually we made it to the station, loaded our stuff and headed into town, back to reality.

Now, the last few years I have spent July 4th abroad, forgetting the past of daylong bbq’s and fireworks, resigning to the mindset that is just another holiday, not full of much. Leave it to a small-town in Alaska to show me I was wrong. Starting even the night before, the town held a dance party in the streets, followed by fireworks above the docks. Then early in the morning of the 4th the fun began again and did not end till late. First, I got to be IN a parade, not stand on the side but sitting on a float waving. The park service created a float resembling the days of the gold rush. All the girls and guys wore costumes, putting boxes on our backs and chanting for gold. Aside from the joy of wearing a hat easily confused with a wicker basket with flowers, I was instantly excited at seeing the Canadian Mounties all decked out in uniform and marching in sync. Don’t worry my schoolgirl giddiness did not prevent me from getting a picture with them.

The rest of the parade was made of up various clever floats from local businesses and the audience was packed full of tourists, seasonals, and locals. However, the highlight of the day was the egg toss. I am not even kidding as I say. The town decided they wanted to break the Guiness Book of World Records for the largest egg toss competition ever. So over 1000 people lined up in pairs down the entire main street as a helicopter hovered above documenting each minute. While waiting in line to begin tossing the crowd did the wave, sang songs, and gave pep talks to their eggs. Sadly, my partner and I didn’t win but watching the victory was just as gratifying and we beat the record by double. Though the streets smelled rotten, festivities continued throughout the day. There was the slowest bike race, arm wrestling, bbqing, horse shoe toss, awards, pie auction, and the railway spike driving contest. The last contest was the best. Everyone you would think would be involved in a small town Alaskan competition that involved using a sledge hammer to beat down nails into large pieces of wood was definitely present, stereotyping was justified among the cut off tees, tattoos, muddy boots, buzzed heads, flannel and sunglasses, smoking game judge, facial hair, and loud shouting. I was so amazed by the speed, strength and stupidity of some that I watched the whole thing.

The rest of the night was spent at a potluck with the park service crew, enjoying the warm evening and demonstration of party tricks. Somehow we managed to have two different types of mac n’cheese, three pies, fresh corn, rice krispy treats, bbqing meats, and coleslaw. And thank goodness because I was beginning to wonder if I knew how to celebrate the Fourth of July.

The rest of my days was well spent and worthy of an email for each. However, here are the highlights:

-hiking AB mountain on a very sunny day, its one of the highest points you can get to in a day hike and overlooks the whole area

-exploring and taking cool pics of an abandoned mine along the highway

-lying in the sun in the world’s smallest desert in the middle of the Yukon surrounded by glaciers, making it my first time to Canada

-finally being able to go to church and meet the other 60 young single seasonal Mormons in town

-going to White Horse, Canada to the Superstore for groceries, going to an actual movie theater, visiting the world’s largest salmon fish ladder, finding a great sweatshirt at Salvation Army, and eating delicious salmon and chips

-running and riding my bike

- finishing a couple of good books

-driving through the Yukon

-Travel stories at the local library

Now as I am ready to send this email out, I am sitting in the New Haven cafĂ©, four blocks from my house, surrounded by the Skagway local Asian population. The air swirls around me with dialects I do not know but smells of food so familiar to me that I reminded of the part of me that clings to the fact that you can always find a bit of your past and fantasies in the common present. I am going back out on the trail and who knows what’s in store.

when work becomes play and play becomes work

alright, its that time of year again. when i decide to forget about reality and leave the security of my present location to take off somewhere for the summer. some call it wonderlust, some call it crazy, some call it adventurous, i just call it natural. so the next couple of posts will be about my summer activities, life's lessons, and general charming observations.

here's a bit to get you started


Ask yourself what would a five star hotel be to a park ranger. Let me tell you. Pick the most spectacular place in nature you have been, make it a national park, preserve and protect it, ensure there is a flowing river, and then place a cabin in the middle of its backcountry. The cabin itself would be secluded from hikers, only be reached by a secret mountain sheep path, and have no unnatural distractions. Seemingly the cabin would appear ordinary; it doesn’t resemble the massive log houses in Aspen or a rundown shack in the Appalachians. No it would be average and sturdy but full of character. Large windows cover a whole side of the cabin to ensure no sunset, sunrise or cloud flow goes unnoticed. The shower is outside, with no need for walls, the outhouse has its own outlook point. Inside the 1970’s pot belly stove works better than any heater, a tea kettle is constantly on, plenty of books, games and maps fill bookshelves, the loft is covered with sleeping bags and mats, a hammock is suspended inside and out, the assortment of dishes and silverware can be used to prepare hot meals for an army or one person, the radio provides tunes and collection of old bottles, photos collages and park signs give each wall its own definition. Its not big but there is always room for one more. But the best part of it all is trees may hide the path to it, but nothing blocks the view. The cabin is complete with a helicopter pad, perfect for long sunny naps, yoga, and celebrations. The view reaches to the coastline to the summit, with valleys, glaciers, waterfalls, and clouds all in between.

Now you must also ask how I know this, well because this exact cabin is what I call home for every other week this summer. What is better than being able to live in this cabin, the fact that I get paid to do it. This summer, I am on the Klondike Gold Rush National Historic Park Trail Crew. The KGNP is located in Skagway in Southeast Alaska; the park covers the vast area of historical artifacts and pathways left behind by the gold rush in the late 1800’s. My work domain specifically includes the Chilkoot Trail, which is a breathtaking, 32 mile trail that begins in Skagway, AK skipping up the valley to the golden staircase (there are actually gold steps) which lead to the summit, resting on the border between Canada and the US. The trail then continues on over into Canada and ends at the White Pass train station in the Yukon.

Thanks to my friend Brian who worked there last summer, I was lucky enough to get this job. So for the summer, I am chopping, sawing, hiking, building, carrying, painting, nailing, and rafting my way through Alaska and getting paid quite well to do it!

I left New Mexico two weeks ago, and after 2 flights, I ended up in Juneau where I got to take a hopper plane to Skagway. With only 8 seats on the plane, I got to sit in the front seat with the pilot. Though it was past sunset, the sky was still filled with light as the pilot swooned us over glaciers and inlets. I have seen mountains and I have seen coastlines around the world, but the combination of the two in southeast Alaska is mesmerizing. Its not just all white, pine trees cover everything and the snow looks like icing poured over all the peaks. The glaciers up close command respect, but their solidness holds pending consequences.

The town of Skagway itself has a split personality, each one with its benefits. During the day tourists from the cruise ships envelop the town of 22 blocks and three main streets. The majority of the town businesses and some of the houses are made up of historical buildings still standing from the gold rush area. Unfortunately most of the shops on main street are geared towards rich folks with cameras, jewelry, knickknack and fur shops. Except for one store that has a man fur thong which claims to be “For the man who has everything”. Who ever owns that store rules. The house I live in is now filled with park service employees. At the night, however, when the tourists have left, the streets are empty except for locals and seasonals. Everyone rides bikes around town, you go to party or restaurant and there are just tons of bikes propped up all around, no one locks theirs up and no one gets theirs stolen. Waterfalls, hikes, and river walks fill the perimeter of the town. In 5 minutes you can be out of the town and immersed in nature.

My morning runs are captivated with exploration of trails and gorging my sight with photographic views.

Skagway also is one of those places where you feel like everyday you get to be a kid.. It would be easy to fall in love with someone here. At times I feel like I am going to wake up and realize there is something miserable about the situation, but even the lack of food on Mondays at the grocery store (the barge comes on Tuesdays), the lack of movie theater, and expensive prices of goods are diminished by the endless amount of light, miles of hikes, midnight bonfires, sunny hammock days, no waiting list at the library, fresh sea food, and the simplicity of life. So every 8 days I get 6 days off. I am not sure when I am working or playing. Life in town is filled with errands, random social gatherings, game night, bike riding, movies with the roommates, baking sessions, meeting other twenty-somethings, and random community events.
But the trail is 8 days of physical fun. I happily throw on my carharts, park service shirt, boots and head out everyday to use my body to push, lift, and move. Our crew is made up of myself and three guys, two locals and one seasonal. We are an odd bunch who have free reign with powertools, hand saws, hammers, large quantities of wood, axes, nature’s materials. Our first day on the trail we hike 12 miles to our cabin, along the way we help clear any trail roadblocks and replace any signs pushed over by bears. The rest of the time is spent on random little projects or one big project. We wake up early, do yoga, eat breakfast and work late, then hang out in the cabin listening to music, playing games or reading. And in the backcountry after a long day of work, everything tastes good. I have even developed a liking for peanut butter. The days up there are simple and I have moments when I wonder if I am really strong enough to do it, but gratification is easy to come by either by looking around or see the fruits of my labor.

My first week out on the trail we built a bridge. Now this may sound like a small feat, but not when you are using 30 foot cottonwood trees for the base, your chain saws break and you have to figure out how to get the stringers across the river without killing yourself or your partner. Oh and did I mention that we have to use all natural materials and only selected pre-approved supplies? However, by accidental chaos we managed to get it done in three days. And so far it hasn’t collapsed on any visitors. . .

On my days off, we were blessed with some great days of sunshine, I did a bit of rafting, some great 10 mile runs, cliff jumping in Lower Dewy lake, played kickball, had a summer solstice bonfire, read a few books, and saw a couple of live bands in the Red Onion Saloon.

Currently, I think I am the only person in Alaska who has not seen a bear. Porcupines, lots of birds, mice, seals and whales- yes. But no bears. However, several are sighted almost daily so hopefully I will get to see one soon. And don’t fear I got paid to go through shot gun training last week and bear spray is the new cell phone. I am off to anchorage and Denali for my first 6 days off. If I can have adventures there, I am packing up and moving to Kansas.

P.S. Alaska rules.