OurGlobalAdventure

Page 19 of 23

Hot Springs and Cold Beers

On 5th August 2017

One of Darren’s more inspired ideas was to get a book on ‘Hot Springs of California’. We tested it out earlier this year, which led us to ‘The Hot Tub’ in the middle of nowhere between Crawley and Mammoth Lakes, a delightful way to warm our bones after camping in extremely chilly conditions.

Our latest venture was to find Buckeye Springs. Now one of the things about hot springs is that they tend to be in random, remote locations, not intuitive and certainly not in places you would happen to stumble upon (without said book or advanced googling skills). We followed the directions, something along the lines of “take this side road for 13 miles, after the cattle grid take the dirt track on your left, when it splits in two take the middle fork until you arrive at a flat-ish parking area – in winter you should see the steam rising ahead, in summer look out for the green algae on the rocks”. Green algae was not in abundance but we did at least arrive at a flat-ish parking area. From there, the book promised, it was a mere 100 yards or so to the hot springs.
Wearing nothing but my bikini and sandals, I started to follow what seemed like the most obvious path. After maybe 300 yards, the path died out at the river – no steam, no hot springs. Doubled back and tried again. And again. The terrain was not quite what you’d call easy going. Uneven, steep, boggy in places, I have to admit I felt like a prize idiot scrambling over the rocks, clinging to branches for support, with only the barest of essentials covering my dignity.

Whilst it was apparent we had stopped at the wrong flat-ish parking area, we were definitely in the vicinity, and our perseverance eventually paid off. We were greeted by streams of hot water cascading down the rocks, leading to a shower-like waterfall sprinkling into the hot pools below. All this right next to a raging river, icy from the mountain snow melt.

On a Saturday afternoon in the middle of summer, you don’t expect to have this sort of natural wonder to yourselves. There is some expectation that there will be others there, albeit only those with (i) advanced navigation skills, (ii) an ability to persist in the face of adversity, or (iii) had this knowledge handed down to them over the generations. It seemed inappropriately inquisitive to interrogate the other hot spring bathers on how they found the place so I politely kept my thoughts to myself.

Seems to attract an odd collection of people though. For a start, there were 3 young quintessential American girls. The type with blonde hair and pigtails, matching baseball caps, cans of Coors Lite, and bikinis designed to make the most of their curves. The type of all-out American gals that Colin Frisell set out to find in Love Actually, the ones who would dig his cute British accent. Then there was the guy with the Stetson and mustache, all he was missing was the cowboy boots and checked shirt (kind of difficult in a hot pool).

Then the nudists turned up. Which we didn’t mind one bit, especially as it cleared most other people away. Not to mention that this nude couple had film star bodies (not that we were looking). Anyway, great timing to virtually get the place to ourselves, so we could enjoy the beauty of the hot springs, sating our thirst with cans of beer and prosecco, at one with the surrounding environment.

Epilogue: We visited again early the next morning, this time armed with cans of coffee. Not another soul around, we wallowed in the indulgent hot water, what a start to the day! Topped only by our mere 100 yard walk, this time from the correct flat-ish parking area!

Sucking the Marrow out of Life: Lake Tahoe trip

By Heather Hamilton

On 5th August 2017

In Camping

For us, like so many others, it seems to be a constant struggle to maintain a positive work life balance. (Admittedly, we do have the added bonus of Darren’s somewhat flexible work schedule and the three day weekend I get every fortnight.) One of our ways of coping is to make the most of when I have work travel commitments, by tagging on weekends that complement my movements, rather than making my work travel a burden. Our latest example of this was planning a trip that for me would end in Reno, Nevada, so I could fly from there direct to Seattle, leaving Darren (poor thing) with the lonely roadtrip home, albeit interspersed with an extra few days’ holiday.

Friday

The weekend started with a speedy getaway (as speedy as can be expected on a Friday afternoon). Direction north, destination for the night just somewhere along Highway 395 on the eastern side of the Sierras. Darren has become somewhat expert in finding random side roads along which there is no other traffic (indeed no other sign of human life, were it not for the electricity pylons). The combo of balmy evenings, late sunsets and truck camping (i.e. no tent to put up) make for extremely stress-free camping. Also, with just a tiny crescent moon, one of the best star-studded clear nights we have seen in a long time.

Saturday

An early start (when did we last NOT have an early start…?) and more road trip miles along the scenic 395, until we arrived at the trailhead for Parker Lake just off the June Lake Loop drive. We nimbly bagged the last feasible spot in the car park before the unfortunate latecomers were left with no other option than to litter the roadside like an abandoned scrapyard, causing future traffic chaos and no doubt some lost wing mirrors. We were pushed for time to do our planned hike to Parker Lake so we made it into a trail run instead. In fact, I speeded things up even more by forgetting (yet again, when will I learn?) to put mossie repellent on, meaning our time at the lake turnaround point was cut demonstrably short, amidst much yelling, cursing and slapping.

Next stop was the ghost town of Bodie. The big conversation piece on the way centred around my dilemma of whether I had actually been there before in a previous trip with my sister some 15+ years ago. Ever get that vague recollection, where you’re not even sure whether it’s your memory or someone else’s? When we arrived, I didn’t recognize it whatsoever. Turns out it was my parents who had previously visited Bodie, and my sister and I had been to a smaller, more typical one-lane cowboy and western style ghost town near Death Valley all those years ago.

Next on our list was Buckeye hot springs, an epic journey in and of itself, which merits its own separate post. Feeling invigorated and relaxed from our hot bath (maybe the beer helped too!), our last stop was a nearby narrow potholed lane leading to a deserted dead end, the expansive views and peace & quiet making it another great stop to rest our weary heads in the truck for the night.

Sunday

Following our early(!) morning dip in the hot springs, and a brief breakfast stop off the 395 with porridge and instant coffee, the road trip continued up to Baldwin Beach, near South Lake Tahoe. Cue separate kayaking post. Fueled up with a sneaky burger (surely we’d earned it after all that paddling!), next on our whistle stop tour was a bun fight for a car parking space at Eagle Falls trailhead, where we were due to leave the truck overnight and head off into the wilderness for a proper overnight backpacking camping trip. Parking space secured, our attention turned to the herculean effort of packing everything we may need for the night into two rucksacks.

Let me say this. I am not cut out for backpacking. I am small. I am weedy. I don’t like carrying heavy things. And I was more than a little puffed from the 12 miles or so of kayaking. Balance all of that with our penchant for the odd beer or two. This results in a crazy schizophrenic dilemma in your head. (“Take the beer”. “Leave it. Drop it. Step away from the beer…” “Take it. You know you want to”). A gallon of water in my rucksack didn’t help either.

Our bags finally packed, we narrowly missed being overtaken by a group of four year olds on the initial stretch. Not long after, a larger lady (I’m being polite) engaged us in conversation on the trail to ask where we were backpacking to. I could barely grunt a response but Darren cheerfully replied “oh, just up to the lake”. Her follow up question of “oh really? Are you just practicing for a proper trip?” did not go down too well with me. OK, so it was only a couple of miles hike to where we were planning on camping but when you’re weighed down like a packhorse, that is really not the point. A warning glance from Darren only just stopped me handing over my rucksack to her right there and then, with a petulant “See how you like it”.

Eagle lake, when we reached it, was such a welcome sight. And we beat the four year olds, who had remained hot on our trail all the way up.

When I first noticed Darren unlacing his hiking boots and removing his socks, I didn’t really bat an eyelid. It’s not out of character in any way for him to soak his feet in cold water. I was a little more disturbed when he donned his rucksack and headed for what looked like the narrowest part of the lake/emerging river to cross to the other side. “Erm, it’s this way” he muttered. No, no, no, this cannot be happening. I shook my head to dislodge the nightmare, but to no avail. I watched, horrified, as Darren gingerly edged his way across, the water rising above his knees. He hitched up the legs of his shorts as the water lapped higher and higher. Frantically, I started searching for other options. Dumping my backpack on a rock, I ran off in the opposite direction, oh yeah, I can move when I have to! And praise be, there IS a god! The proper path materialized in front of me, having been hidden behind some rocks. I’ve never been so relieved to find a path.

All that remained was for Darren to make the return journey through the river while I remained blissfully dry. He didn’t even mind the wasted double river crossing so much, as it provided some brief cooling respite from his post-kayak sunburn. (Me? I’d rather have hot legs). With the four year olds – and everyone else – long gone, we set up camp, and got stuck into the beer.

Monday

After a hearty camping breakfast, the return hike the next day was, it has to be said, a little lighter and combined with the downhill, so much easier.

Following a scenic drive round to the more remote north east shores of Lake Tahoe, we headed for ‘Secret Cove’ (really, how can a place be secret if it’s on the map as Secret Cove?). Maybe not secret, but it is somewhat elusive, and a proper hike to get down to. I thought we’d done our hiking for the day! However, this was well worth it, a pretty horseshoe-shaped cove with turquoise water, smooth rocks, and white sand. We found ourselves some shade under the generous canopy of the pine trees, munched on our tasty picnic lunch, and actually had some chill out time.

Of course, Darren doesn’t sit still for long. Out came the wetsuit so he could get a swim in, which was kind of ironic as this was an optional nudist beach. There’s everyone else getting their kit off, meanwhile Darren is putting extra layers on.

The last stop on the whistle stop Tahoe tour was Reno. Known as The Biggest Little City in the World. Don’t ask, seems very random to me. First impressions were a bit of a poor man’s Vegas: casinos galore but without the glitz and glamour, the sin and debauchery, the party til you drop atmosphere and the knowledge that What happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas. Still, I reckoned that with an early flight to work the next day, that’s probably a good thing!

Not just your average places to stay…

By Heather Hamilton

On 5th July 2017

In Uncategorized

The first night on our mini-roadtrip from Seattle was spent in downtown Centralia, Washington, at one of the unique McMenamins hotels, the Olympic Club. Barely changed since its opulent re-model in 1913, think old style music hall and vintage furnishings. Think chunky metal door keys, creaky floorboards, shared bathrooms, and character. Meanwhile, the signage in the shop next door boasted of ‘guns, knives and other cool stuff’.

McMenimans brew their own beer (how else do you think Darren found this place!), and they also have a movie theatre on site. No fixed seating here, instead a mish mash of comfy settees, loveseats and armchairs, with the odd rickety coffee table thrown in on which to perch your drinks. As our bedroom was right above said movie theatre, we were encouraged to frequent the 9pm show. Unfortunately for us, ‘Rough Night’ was a poor man’s ‘Hangover’. Still, a very cool place to stay, we may even be back.

It’s not all fun and breweries on these trips, sometimes we have to go to the store to pick up supplies. Like meat, cheese and crusty french bread for a picnic. As always, the impish devil on my right shoulder lured me to the crisp aisle. Luckily, I came to my senses when I saw these.

Wrong, just so wrong

As we ventured further east, this didn’t feel like Washington at all. Stepping out of the moderately AC cooled car to appreciate the scenic viewpoint, we were thrust into an open blast furnace, hot and windy. A vast expanse of scrubland peppered with distant windmills, the omnipresent Columbia River, and barely a tree in sight. It was the perfect location for renewable energy sources like a home wind turbine, taking advantage of the consistent gusts in such a wide-open space.

And into this wilderness, someone plonked a vineyard. Not just a vineyard but a luxury retreat, complete with winery tasting room, clifftop cabins, a lake, a swimming pool and a yurt village. A yurt was our residence of choice, but these have come a long long way since they left Mongolia, transforming the yurt concept beyond recognition by your average native Mongolian.

Darren’s idea of glamping is having running water. I set my sights a little higher, but this was for sure, glamping not camping in all senses of the word. The bathroom in the yurt was bigger than the entire inside of the campervan that we spent three weeks driving to Alaska in. Not only that but the yurt’s amenities included: AC, an ice bucket, a fridge, a king size bed, a chaise longue, dining table and chairs and an outside deck. Oh sorry, nearly forgot. And an ironing board.

The rest is history. Wine tasting, chilling out by the lakeside, picnic on the deck, followed by wine-induced dancing. Makes a change from beer!

Columbia River: Lashings & Lashings of Water and Beer

By Heather Hamilton

On 5th July 2017

In Uncategorized

Columbia River Gorge lies on the border between Washington and Oregon. As usual, Darren had been tasked with the research and planning for this trip, so my expectations were not in any way based on reality but on my visualization of what a gorge should look like. Not quite on the Grand Canyon scale but in my head, this would be a narrow gouge through the earth’s crust into which we would descend. Not so. More of a wide valley with steep mountains on either side. (Valley, gorge, canyon… what’s the difference anyway?).

Preconceived ideas aside, Eagle Creek Trail did not disappoint. Heavily forested, rocky underfoot, with some steep drops. I was transfixed by the trees, gracefully adorned with moss coats, wispy tendrils gently blowing in the breeze.

But the stars of the show were the waterfalls, in particular Tunnel Falls. Not just the 130 foot free fall drop, but the fact you could burrow behind the falls about half way up, through a narrow tunnel blasted through the rock face, and emerge on the other side. The spray was exhilarating, the drop adrenaline-inducing, the rope strung along the cliff wall life-saving! Looking down (way down) at the white water plunging into the pool below was enough to create a heady dizziness into even the most unafraid of heights person.

All that remained was the long trek back. After a 15 mile round trip hike, muscles aching, pleasantly exhausted, we felt we’d earned our beers at the Walking Man brewery in Stevenson.

We dipped our toe into Oregon again the next day. I was almost convinced by Darren’s suggestion of kayaking along the Columbia River, thoughts of basking in the sun, gliding peacefully through the water. That was until we saw the water. Put it this way… wind, waves, windsurfing and kitesurfing do not ideal kayaking conditions make. A point that even Darren conceded. On the proviso that we go to a brewery instead.

Check out those waves!

pFriem Brewery on the waterfront at Hood River

Crossing between Oregon and Washington over the Columbia River gave us an opportunity to clock up a bit more mileage on the Pacific Crest Trail. The rather grandly named Bridge of The Gods (which sounds like it should be in Game of Thrones, a mechanism for the High Septon to throw sinners off, into the swirling depths of the underworld) is actually a vehicular bridge over which through hikers on the PCT are required to walk facing traffic ‘for safety’, as there’s no footpath.

Unsure whether driving part of the PCT fully counted towards true PCT mileage, Darren found another PCT stretch near the Snoqualmie Pass. Short on views but long enough to stretch our legs, imagine my surprise that Snoqualmie was also home to a brewery. Darren feigned innocence but recalling our recent niece and nephew’s visit when they indignantly realized that they had visited more breweries than frozen yogurt shops, I remain skeptical.

Big Trees & Big Views

By Heather Hamilton

On 1st July 2017

In Uncategorized

It’s impossible to not be overawed by the biggest trees in the world. If Enid Blyton ever came to this neck of the woods, the giant sequoias would surely have been the inspiration for The Magic Faraway Tree. For anyone who ever enjoyed being whisked away to the magical lands at the top of the tree, just gazing up (and up and up) towards the canopy of a giant sequoia is enough to re-ignite that spark of imagination.

Such was the disbelief of the US general public in the late 19th century that these trees even existed, at least three sequoias died to prove that they lived. One particular such tree was unceremoniously cut down, chopped into wedges, hauled out to the east coast and reassembled. Whereupon it was ridiculed and labeled as a ‘California hoax’ because no one could quite believe it.

By day 2, Darren realized we had in fact already been to Kings Canyon (after cajoling me for not knowing where I’ve been and threatening to not bring me on trips any more if I couldn’t remember places). Still, there’s plenty of new places to explore in a National Park. Morro Rock was one of them; Big Baldy trail another. More great views and despite the remoteness, for the first time in the weekend we had a cellphone reception. Good timing for a quick FaceTime call to wish my dad a Happy Father’s Day and show him the view.

Whilst the heat wasn’t quite of the 100+ variety, approaching 90 degrees was hot enough to cut some of the hiking a little short. Cold beers and cold water was called for. And out of nowhere, Darren even rustled up some shade.

I was a little intrigued by the number of coaches we saw traversing the lake – at least a dozen. There must be something really good just right around the corner for all those tourists to be pouring in. They didn’t seem to stick around for long though, curiouser and curiouser. The following morning, the mystery was revealed. At the head of the lake was a Christian camp, bustling with throngs of eager youths, literally hundreds of teens, ready to embrace God in the countryside. I guess if that’s your bag, it’s a pretty cool place to do it.

So… wildlife toll for the weekend:

* Deer – tick, saw a couple of them, each time adjacent to the parking area, as if paid to be there for the tourists.

* Bears. Nada, zilch, nil pwoints.

* Cute marmots, almost like pudgy meerkats calling to each other with their high pitched whistles to forewarn of impending hikers. What I couldn’t quite get over was their coats of dense fluffy hair. Whilst they obviously need it in the winter, it seemed way overkill for a hot dry summer’s day. Put it this way, if I was hot…!

* A baby California King snake seemed out of place. You’d expect anything called King to have a sense of power and majesty about it, yet the distinctive orange and black markings looked odd on such a juvenile pencil thin body.

* We were first alerted to the frogs by their call, more of a low pitched hum than a croak. It wasn’t until after dark that we spotted them, bigger than my hand and not looking short on food.

* It may have been my imagination but the lizards too looked big and fat. With the feast of flying insects, they must surely be gorging themselves. The dragonflies also went up in my estimation when I discovered they eat mossies. Maybe I could get myself a pet one.

* But my absolute favorite had to be the big fat hairy caterpillars mooching around the campsite. Me and the under-ten camping community both. I rushed back to Darren with a photo and a “how cool is that” look upon my face, but I was one upped by the little boy who delicately scooped one up in his hand to proudly present to his parents. Probably the best Father’s Day present you could ask for.

Waterfalls, Mossies and Campfires

By Heather Hamilton

On 1st July 2017

In Camping

Daunted by the 100+ degree forecast for the weekend at home, what better way to escape the heat than to head to the mountains to have ourselves a proper camping weekend. A somewhat overdue camping weekend, as we realized we hadn’t used the tent in over a year. Kings Canyon and Sequoia won the lottery, with more options for last minute camping, slightly less likely to be a zoo than Yosemite, and apparently, we hadn’t been to Kings Canyon, so a chance to tick off another National Park.

With all the rain and snow we had over the winter and spring in California, the rivers were super impressive. Not a trickle in sight, the waterfalls harnessed the snow melt and transformed it into rolling, angry white water, hurling it over the cliffs in a deafening roar, the icy water thundering down the gorges like a rabid animal, enraged and foaming. This meant two of my favorite things combined into one hike: river crossings and mosquitos. Actually, the river crossings were more of the stream variety and quite tame. Not so the mossies.

So along with the rivers and waterfalls of Disney proportions, came the mosquitoes. In force. I was drawn with empathy to a small child – a girl of maybe four or five, arms flailing wildly in the air, tears streaming down her pretty face, as she sobbed “the flies are attacking me”. “Well I’m really sorry honey” soothed Dad, “but that’s just Nature. That’s what it’s like outside”. The verdict from the young girl? A desperate plea: “I want to go to The Inside”. I knew how she felt! Especially when they have pre-programmed honing devices set for pretty little girls and older defenseless girls who hadn’t thought sufficiently ahead to put insect repellent on. As Darren pointed out, he had his own protection by walking next to me, the mossies swooning over my sweet Pearson blood. Needless to say, I spent the entire rest of the weekend doused in mossie spray – I would have bathed in the stuff if I could. The only realistic camping alternative to The Inside.

The hot weather meant no woolly hat needed at night for a change! But a balmy evening doesn’t mean no call for a campfire. It’s just not proper camping without a campfire. There was no shortage of wood – it was a free for all orgy of fallen branches, twigs for kindling, and logs. And in addition to a traditional fire, we treated ourselves to a Campfire of the tipple variety.

The Road To Alaska: Final Thoughts

By Heather Hamilton

On 21st May 2017

In 2017 Alaska Road Trip

People say it’s about the journey rather than the destination. Never is that more true than for a road trip.

A 5,000+ mile road trip is not for everyone. It entails a lot of driving for a start. So hats off to Darren for doing all the driving and not even trying to bully me into it (even though I was sorely tempted with the heated massage seat that came along with it!).

But along with the passage of miles and the passing of time comes a sense of appreciation. Appreciation of a damn good holiday for sure, but more than that. For starters, an appreciation of the enormity of North America and the vast untouched remoteness. If you cut Alaska in half and made it into two states, Texas would be the third largest state. As for Canada, we barely dipped our toe in the water. And cutting right through all of that are the impressive roads that made our trip possible – the AlCan and Cassiar Highways. Frost-heaved and patchy in places but on the whole, I’d say pretty damn good. Think they could teach the folks working on southern California highways a lesson or two!

We also had an appreciation of the variety of terrain. We thought there’d be some ‘boring bits’ along the way where there was nothing to look at. Not the case. Particular highlights included the Icefields Parkway in Jasper National Park, the Guardsman pass en route to Haines, and the Glenn Highway/Tok Cut Off near Anchorage. But whilst some scenery was obviously more impressive than others, the constant changes in landscape kept it interesting.

Throw in there our thirst for wildlife, constantly on spotting duty for bears, moose, caribou and the like – and you have hours of entertainment. We didn’t even need to resort to ‘I Spy’.

We did supplement our feast for the eyes with a feast for the ears though. We had lined up a couple of audible talking books: Stephen King’s 11-22-63 (quite different from his earlier horror based books, I’d recommend this dalliance into history and time travel – although maybe the abridged version unless you’ve got a loooong road trip to kill), and A Man Called Ove (a somewhat lighthearted, humorous take on a grumpy old man with hidden depths – highly recommended). Not to mention good old Answer Me This podcast. (Not for everyone but an entertaining, down to earth, and very British take on answering personal dilemmas and other questions that are not so readily available on Google).

Another top road trip tip is to mix up the long driving days with not so long driving days, throwing in walks, hikes, runs, yoga (and abundant coffee and biscuit stops) wherever possible.

It’s also good to strike a balance between overnights in the wilderness, just us and a frozen river or vast lake for company, with some civilization – access to people and places (i.e., generally near a brewery). Speaking of breweries, I have three call outs tying for top spot. Toolshed in Calgary had a great Belgian golden ale, a friendly barman and was a welcome respite from the rain. Secondly, I’m almost inclined to agree that Whitehorse Yukon Brewing does ‘Beer worth freezing for’ – a good variety of damn good beer. Last but not least, is Bleeding Heart in Palmer, Alaska. Where else can you hang out with chickens and cows whilst you drink locally brewed craft beer?

On any holiday, you’re at the mercy of the elements. This was probably my primary concern in booking this trip, in particular given that it was out of season. Alaska in April… really? But a combination of low expectations, good preparation (think layers!) and good fortune resulted in a very pleasant surprise. Along the way, the locals were already venturing into t-shirt and shorts, even flip flops.

I wouldn’t and didn’t quite go that far, but enough even for me to leave the woolly hat behind on occasion. In fact, there’s only one evening it poured down (which ominously happened to be the night before our 10K run in Calgary). There’s something remotely comforting about the incessant hammering of rain on the roof of the campervan, the view through the windows obscured by raindrops, the occasional brave rivulet breaking from the pack in a race for freedom down the glass. Meanwhile, this was where the minimal square footage of the campervan came into its own – the tiny turbo charged heater transformed the truck into a cosy cocoon.

And so it is my last token of appreciation goes to the campervan. Indeed our home from home for three weeks. It was our home and our life for that time. Quite honestly, if you’re gonna do much longer, I think you need a bigger one. But for us, a great compromise between fuel economy and space.

Important campervan points for future reference:

– Don’t store the beer on the top shelf of the fridge. Not one but two beer freezing incidents.

– Reconsider whether you really need eggs in your life. And secure the fridge door at all times. Hard boiled eggs: thumbs up. Raw eggs don’t tend to fare quite so well.

– Hot water bottles are amongst man’s most important inventions of all time.

– When you are told there’s “not much snow left” when clearly there is snow all around, translate to “you would be mad to try to snowshoe through that”.

They say a picture paints a thousand words. So no doubt a video even more. I’ve tried to paint a picture of what this holiday was for us. But Darren’s video does it even better with a one second clip for every day of the trip. If you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading. The only thing that remains… is to decide where next…?

The Last Few Days

By Heather Hamilton

On 16th May 2017

In 2017 Alaska Road Trip

Chitina: Strangers in a Strange Town

Unlike Valdez which has both a winter season and a summer season for tourists, Chitina is a distinctly summer place, a salmon fishing mecca on the Copper River, the season for which starts at the beginning of July. As such, things in Chitina were kind of eerily quiet. However, we were heartened to see that one bar in town was open: Uncle Tom’s Tavern.

The room fell silent as the Uncle Toms regulars tried to adjust their eyes to the apparition of strangers (think American Werewolf in London) through the haze of smoke at the bar. This is the type of place where they have jagermeister on tap but only one draught beer (albeit a good one: Alaska Icy Bay IPA). The type of place where the walls are adorned with license plates and bear skins, with a random assembly of carriage clocks and rifles behind the bar. And the beer served in mason jars. But it was actually the type of place that turned out to be quite friendly once the regulars got over their initial surprise at seeing us – we were congratulated with enthusiastic handshakes on officially being the first tourists of the year.

Copper River: Almost Back at Work

We were within spitting distance of the Princess Copper River Wilderness Lodge, and couldn’t pass by so close to ‘work’ without taking a sneaky peak. It hadn’t yet opened for the season but we wandered around the grounds, taking in the breathtaking views, pressing our noses up against the floor to ceiling windows – until we got told off. Turns out there were a few people there already, preparing for opening in a couple of weeks.

It didn’t seem like a good time to let them know that I was a fellow employee, so we just scuttled back to the campervan, trying to look inconspicuous. Shame, I might have been tempted to pull rank for a free brunch if they’d been open. Ended up going for a run instead.

We were able to get closer to the Matanuska glacier than any of the other glaciers on our trip. Luckily, this one didn’t entail any trekking through snow either. It did involve a hike over the gravelly moraine to get there, and it wasn’t until some way past the ‘do not go any further without a guide’ sign that we realized we were actually on the glacier itself. Pretty cool.

Probably the most dangerous aspect of getting to the glacier was the rickety wooden bridge we had to cross in the campervan!

Campervan Log part 7. Anchorage, Seward, Hope.

By Darren

On 10th May 2017

In 2017 Alaska Road Trip

Anchorage, AK to Seward, AK (140 miles)

Unfortunately it was time to travel solo for a couple of days – it seems Heather will do anything to get out of cleaning up so she bailed out early (something about work). After dropping Heather at the airport it was time to head along the coast line of Turnagain Arm to the Kenai Peninsula. It is so called Turnagain Arm as when Captain Cooks party was exploring (that guy travels more than I do!!) they thought it was a route to the northwest passage and there was much Turn Again before they gave up. He should have got a map.

I had arrange a Kayak Trip from Seward tomorrow morning so that was my destination for the night. I parked up at the waterfront parking that allows RVs to overnight, and then on for a pint or two at Seward Brewery before heading back to the campervan to work through left over alcohol before I drop the campervan off soon!

Seward, AK to Hope, AK (80 miles)

I headed off with a group on a water taxi loaded up with kayaks to be dropped off in Resurrection Bay for a paddle. I was under strict instructions from Heather not to spot too much wildlife as she would be jealous but luckily the forecasted rain made her a little bit relieved that she was missing the trip!

I was keeping fingers crossed that we wouldn’t spot any of the pods of Killer Whales that cruise the bay otherwise Heather would have been really mad : ) We didn’t spot any of these but as a reward for paddling through a day of drizzle we did get a humpback whale cruising past in between the kayas and blowing which was pretty amazing! After our close encounter with the humpback (which explains the naming of our starting point for the paddle – Humpy Cove) we had otters, seals and eagles coming over to see us.

Some of the kayakers bailed out of the trip early as they were not too impressed with the weather – the downside to a bit of peace and quiet was that we didn’t need the covered heated water taxi to get back so it was replaced by a small open speedboat to blast us back through the rain. I missed Heather today but was relieved that I didn’t have to give up my gloves and a couple of layers to her for the return trip.

Hope, AK to Anchorage, AK (90 miles)

Rather than drive back and spend the last night in Anchorage I decided to make the most of the wilderness and parked up at a small hamlet call Hope for my last night. I had the campground to myself and had a nice evening looking back over a fantastic trip.

After a short drive back to town it was time to drop the campervan off at the RV center ready to be prepped for a season up in Alaska. The guy outside who was jet washing and cleaning the RVs ready to go out did look a bit horrified when he saw the state of ours 🙂

Hope you enjoyed following the route.

Campervan Log Part 6. Valdez, AK to Anchorage, AK

By Darren

On 10th May 2017

In 2017 Alaska Road Trip

Valdez, AK to Chitina, AK (180 miles)

From Valdez it was back over the pass, this time heading north on the Richardson Highway. We took a diversion into the Wrangell-St Elias National Park on the McCarthy Road. The park as absolute wilderness, which considering how much nothingness we have seen in a lot of places this is saying something! We didn’t head all of the way into the park as it was a 100 mile round trip on a dirt road but we got as far as the first ‘town’ of Chitina. To call it a one-horse town would be an overstatement, even the horse hadn’t turned up for the season yet. It was still a great drive and spot to visit, a local that we talked to (who did a double take when he saw a tourist here this early) explained that in a month or two the town explodes with visitors who come for the full combat salmon fishing and fight over the abundance of fish.

You get an idea of the road from the notch that had been blasted out that is the one way route into town.

Chitina, AK to Palmer, AK (150 miles)

From the wilderness of Chitina it was back up the Glenn Highway and heading towards west towards Anchorage. We had yet another day of scenic driving with views of the Chugach Mountains that stretch all of the way to Anchorage.
After a detour to the Matanuska Glacier which stretches 23 miles from the mountains it wasn’t too long before we started to pass working farms and farm land on the outskirts of Palmer. Palmer is a nice working town just far enough from Anchorage to still be on the sleepy side of life. After checking out a couple of breweries (of course) we headed to an informal campground on the banks of the Matanuska River which flows from the glacier 60 miles away. Most towns along the way so far seem to have informal campgrounds that are basically places where the wont get hassled by the cops for parking up for a night or two. This overnight spot was in a particularly scenic spot and combined with some nice weather made for a good spot to enjoy a bottle of wine and some of Heathers campervan cooking.

Palmer, AK to Anchorage, AK (80 miles)

From Palmer it was time to head to the ‘metropolis’ of Anchorage. Anchorage is mainly a jumping off point for cruise ship passengers or tourists heading north to Denali but it isn’t a bad place to spend the evening. It has some good walking trails, scenic views and enough bars to keep you busy for a while – which is just what we did.

The drive into Anchorage was funny after a couple of weeks of relative wilderness, all of a sudden you have traffic lights, multiple lanes of traffic and rather than a friendly wave at junctions you are more likely to get the finger 🙂