Leaving Fairbanks

It was hard to leave Fairbanks, but I've done it. The increasing bite of cold convinced me that it really, truly, was time to follow the cranes south.

Last looks at the Alaska Range and the Fairbanks valley

Frost on rose leaves

Of course deciding to leave and actually leaving are two different things.

There was a final flurry of things to do before leaving; a number of letterboxes to make a last stab at finding (several successful) and some last-minute shopping.

By the shores of Wander Lake

One of the letterboxes was supposed to be near the Antique Car Museum, but I couldn't find it (the letterbox, not the museum). But, as with other letterbox adventures, it took me out to an interesting wildlife refuge with lovely Wander Lake at its center. The lake is home to the Alaska blackfish, a fish well adapted to the frigid waters of the far north.

There are supposed to be other birds and mammals here, but they proved to be as elusive as the letterbox!

I think this is a larch!

I did, however, find a larch tree (or what I think is a larch tree). The needles of this tree were quite different from those of either white or black spruce (which I still have some trouble telling apart). Spruce needles come out as just one needle along a stem or branch. These needles came out as a spray of 20 or more and are quite distinctive, if you look closely.

Either I haven't been looking closely, or they don't grow around here, as this was the only larch tree that I've seen on the trip.

Larch trees may be important for helping to maintain permafrost. Recent scientific research shows that a thick mat of larch roots can protect permafrost from melting, which is beneficial to both the tree and the underlying layer of frozen earth. I wish I could have seen this one when it turned golden!

It may interesting to note that Wander Lake is actually a reclaimed gravel pit. I've noticed others in many places, especially along the highways where "borrow pits" are now filled with water and stocked with fish. They are totally not "natural" but it seems to work for everyone, fishermen, birds and other animals, too. (Although Wander Lake, being a refuge, does not allow fishing.)

A 1917 Mack dump truck at the Antique Car Museum.

Ordinarily, I would not have stopped at the car museum, but they had several old vehicles outside, and I found myself intrigued by the old cars and trucks, and specifically their histories in Alaska.

The Mack dump truck from 1917 was one of the first trucks produced. Note the spokes of the wheels are wood, as are the steering wheel and the dump bed; it's sort of a glorified wagon. Fascinating to see the evolution of the trucks. They also had some early snow machines, designed to travel in the white stuff. Early versions were so slow that dog sleds went faster, so production was put on hold until technology improved.

Shopping

There were two stops I wanted to do before leaving: one at the Alaska Raw Fur Company and the other at Judie Gumm's studio in Ester, just south of Fairbanks.

Malemute Saloon in Ester. The sign may say it's open, but it's not.

The Alaska Raw Fur Company turned out to be a nexus for all sorts of crafts, not just fur. They have musk ox qiviut (raw fleece, spun yarn and knitted garments), leather of all sorts, and quilting supplies.

Qiviut items were pretty expensive: a qiviut sweater was $3,000; a hat was $600. Knitted qiviut smoke rings were $300; even kits were over $200. I'm kind of kicking myself now that I hadn't bought yarn at LARS for $85 per skein. It's now seeming like a bargain! I'll check in Anchorage at the collective for spun yarn; the other source for qiviut is in Canada.

I didn't see any moosehide, which, because of its toughness, is the preferred leather for moccasins and mukluks. I suppose I could have asked. The last smoked, tanned moosehide I saw for sale was at the trading post in Dawson City, and I didn't want to spend $600 on a moosehide at that time.

Lest people get in a snit about fur, there is a different sensibility about fur and living off the land here. Hunting and trapping are part of life, and by buying fur products, one contributes to the economy of people who have few other ways of earning money in the bush. That's all I'm going to say about it.

I cruised into Ester, where Judie Gumm's studio/home/store is located. Turns out it was a bit of a challenge to find. Luckily there were signs, until they petered out, and the road was closed by construction. I parked at the local "library" (there were two dirt "spaces" in front of a very funky hippie house that would have looked at home in Bolinas or Fairfax in the 1960s), and decided to venture forth on foot. I was glad I persevered!

Her home was a former mining cabin, although it has been extensively remodeled.

Judie Gumm's studio (easy to miss)!

Judie Gumm has been making jewelry, inspired by the natural world of Alaska, for the past 40 years. Her designs have a clean, spare look that is quite distinctive. I came away with several gifts for some lucky friends.

Ester feels like the "real" Alaska. Homes there look like they were built or are being remodeled by the homeowners themselves or their friends, who probably aren't licensed contractors. One house was being raised on piles/platforms (I'm sure there is a name for them); it looked like the project had been underway for years. It just has the look of people living a bit on the edge, and with a bit of whimsey. I should have asked the staff in Judie's studio what the meaning of the red wooden model of the Eiffel Tower was doing in the yard next door. Or the building in someone else's backyard that looked like a wooden fire lookout...

Then it was back on the road again.

Autumn colors

Although there had been some subtle changes in color in Fairbanks, most of the trees there are either birch or spruce. The spruce don't change at all, and the birch trees seem to drop their leaves the moment they turn yellow. So while the ground is littered with freshly-fallen yellow leaves that rapidly turn brown, the leaves that end up staying on the trees seem to just turn brown and stay there. The "fall color" there was a bit subtle — a gentle change from green to brownish-yellow.

Fall color on the way to Denali

However, the valleys south of Fairbanks were resplendent with intense gold. Aspens, cottonwood, and maybe some birch were blazing with color. With the low sun angle on them, it was a spectacular drive.

I got to back to Denali Park near sunset (now about 9pm), and the wind was blowing hard. To be frank, I was glad to get off the road.

In the morning, I went to see if any of the bus tours were available. The weather looked good, at least until until Sunday, when clouds were supposed to come in again. I was hoping that with the legendary drop-off of tourists after Labor Day, there would be some openings. Unfortunately, all were full on both Friday and Saturday, with only openings on Sunday.

I decided not to stay through Sunday since the weather was supposed to be iffy, but to do some hiking in the "front country" and take advantage of the good weather. Denali is easy enough to get back to, and it's easy to navigate here without a car.

I'll be back. I'll save Kantishna and Wonder Lake for another trip, and hope that my luck in seeing the mountain lasts.

Horseshoe Lake

I took a nice hike out to Horseshoe Lake, and it was a beautiful choice. Lots of people enjoying the good weather, so I didn't worry about bears. And more spectacular fall colors!

Fall colors on the Nenana River

Ptarmigan on the trail.

The longer trail option went out to the Nenana River, which I took. While the rivers in general are down from the flooding that was happening a month ago, they are still rushing, fed by the glaciers that are melting in the relatively warm temperatures (30s at night, 70s during the day). Of course this will change when the

I didn't see a lot of animals on this trek, although I did nearly walk into a pair of women who where "resting" by the side of the trail.

Turns out they were watching a ptarmigan pecking at some invisible tasty tidbits on the trail. When I came up, it strutted back into the brush, but I waited and it came back out again. I guess there was something really good on the pathway that it couldn't get anywhere else. I kept trying to herd it into the sun, but it wanted no part of that. You could just see that its feathers were starting to turn from their summer brown to winter white.

Red squirrel eating spruce seeds on a favorite log

There were some shadow birds flitting in the underbrush, and one squirrel nibbling on a spruce cone.

Although I only saw one, there was evidence of them all over: piles of spruce cone debris atop stumps, fallen logs, and at the base of trees.

Spruce trees generate an enormous number of cones, and I think this must be a one of the fabled "bumper mast" years.

Apparently, about every five to seven years, spruce trees (and other evergreens) produce an overabundance of cones. They are sort of like the plankton of the oceans at the base of the boreal food chain.

Squirrels busily snip the cones from the tops of the trees, gathering them in middens that they can access during the winter. Many other birds also eat the spruce seeds, and of course predators eat the squirrels and birds.

Masses of spruce cones at the top of a tree

While most of the time I've been looking at the gorgeous scenery, I haven't forgotten about the rocks!

There was one outcrop at the far side of Horseshoe Lake that was particularly impressive because of the intense folding and shearing of the rocks.

It's been a long time since I've seen such a faulty outcrop!

In reading online about this, it's probably part of the Hines Creek Fault system, which in turn is part of the McKinley (aka Denali) Fault zone, which is responsible for pushing Mt. Denali a half a millimeter per year. (Nothing in comparison to the two inches per year slippage that is happening along the San Andreas Fault in California, but still measurable and impressive; in one's lifespan, Denali will rise four to five inches!)

Folded and fault-deformed rocks along the trail.

If you want to know more, a fantastic geology road log is available online; it's better than the book I bought because it has both background information, references and a roadcut log. I wish I had a printer, and Fran along to read it aloud to me as we travel!

So it was with some regret that I left Denali, vowing again to return soon.

Pressing onward meant that I might be able to make Palmer and my next mail drop tomorrow (Saturday), so that I wouldn't have to wait until next week to get it. I was a little worried that it was still going to be there, because I'd dallied so long in Fairbanks.

Parks Highway, heading south

Of course, I had been over this section of highway twice before: once on my headlong dash up to Fairbanks six weeks ago, and again with Fran a month before.

The differences in scenery were remarkable, and I'm so glad that I waited to come through at this time of the year. Although every season certainly has it's advantages, autumn is just glorious!

Scenery along the Nenana River, south of Denali NP

I kept stopping, captivated by the intense golden yellow of the aspens and cottonwoods, in stark contrast to the dark green spruce trees.

Not only were the valleys resplendent with gold and green, but the color extended along the sides of the roads and rivers, with willows turning bright yellow and fireweed earning its name by turning orange, red and maroon. Further up the mountains above treeline, shrubs like dwarf birch gave bright spots of red. Groundcovers like dwarf dogwood also turn red, and the lichens and mosses seem to go chartreuse.

Fireweed earns its name in the fall.

Fireweed stalk, with seeds all gone

It's hard to imagine, now, what this scene would look like in the beginning of summer, with snow still on the mountains and the fireweed in all it's magenta glory!

Now the flower stalks have gone to seed, and the seed pods have burst open, releasing fluffy white seeds. Sometimes the seeds don't fly off, but remain sticking to the flower stalk, making the plants looking like they are topped by fluffy candle plumes.

Sometimes the wind does strip away all of the seeds, leaving a dry, delicate tracery of exploded seed pods.

They're beautiful, no matter what stage.

And come winter, not far off now, they will wither and dry and become brittle. Then the heavy snow and winds of winter will come, loading the delicate stalks with cold, white snow. The stalks will break and return to the earth, so the cycle can start all over again.

I'm sorry I won't be here to see that!

Because winter is not far off! The first snows have fallen on the high peaks!

First snows on the mountains!

The ATV boys

I stopped at Hurricane Gulch, in the hopes that I might find another letterbox that was supposed to be hidden there.

Alas, I did not find it, and the view itself wasn't up to my expectations. My last views of this site were from crossing the bridge at 50 miles per hour in a driving rain, gripping the steering wheel with Fran in the car. My glimpses had been of a mysterious deep canyon with pali-like incised cliffs.

Now, in clear weather, it was still an impressive sight, but sometimes the mystery of a scene, enshrouded in mist, turns out to be more memorable than reality!

Hunting season

So... it's hunting season. There are guys with hunting toys everywhere. They have ATVs on flatbed trailers, hidden away in toy hauler trailers, or just driven into the back of pickup trucks.

Honestly, I don't know what hunters did before ATVs became widely available. Large game is heavy. I suppose they had to be real men and dismember the meat, divide it up and drag or pack it out in parts to a place where it could be picked up by plane or truck. ATVs have made hunting much easier.

Getting ready to fly a drone

And much to my surprise, another guy was getting ready to fly a drone! I didn't quite know what to make of this, but he turned out to be the first of two drone operators that I saw in as many days.

He had a posse of interested bystanders or friends who arrived in another vehicle. They flew the thing in the gulch, being gone for maybe 15 minutes or so. Then they came back to the car, got out the computer and reviewed the Flight of the Drone to much exclamation.

I know that drones are prohibited in National Parks. I just sincerely hope that they are not going to be used to spot game, but I already know that some hunters use airplanes to spot animals.

Technology is having wide-reaching consequences.

The bridge over Hurricane Gulch

 I left, with thoughts mulling over in my mind.

I camped that night at the Denali View North campground. With the weather so clear, I was hoping to see what I'd not been able to see before. And what a view it was.

Sunset, with Denali in the background

There were a few other people there, mostly in RVs. One couple from Pennsylvania was in a behemoth of a motor home ("Phaeton") the size of a Greyhound bus. They had two dogs, of whom one was a five-year-old German shepherd named Axel. I ran into them a few more times, going south.

The next day was equally spectacular.

I'm sorry this is taking so long to post. I've been taking advantage of the good weather to sight-see and the bad weather to travel. Wifi has been hard to find; libraries out here have limited hours and shut their computers down at night. Plus, it's really, really slow, and upload times are woeful and frustrating. I may be checking into a motel, just to get caught up. It's been a month, anyway, so maybe I'm entitled!