In this transient in-between seasons period, not only were we too early for Summer activities, we were also too late for Winter ones. However, the woman in the tourist office in Valdez took pity on us and we were able to rent out snowshoes even though they closed two weeks ago. Not only that but we didn’t have to pay to rent them out. That’s right, free! There’s not a lot you get for nowt these days, but snowshoes in Alaska when there’s ‘not much snow left’ is one of them. A relative term obviously. And we had a trick up our sleeve… a snow covered mountain pass and a glacier.

As we approached the Thomson Pass for our snowshoe hike, we were greeted by cloud cover. The sort of dense low cloud that makes it indistinguishable where the snow covered mountains end and the sky begins. The sort of weather we’d been expecting every day but hadn’t really experienced until now. I’m not complaining though (apart from the fact that I’m not allowed to complain about the cold or the weather – see “The Rules”). We’ve actually had better weather on this trip than when we previously came to Alaska in July!

So the ‘not much snow’ thing turned out not to be an issue. Plenty of snow up here. What was an issue, or maybe just a bit of a challenge (she says, in a positive gung-ho kind of way) was the depth of the snow and the inability of the snow to hold the weight of an average person without collapsing. Believe me, breaking trail in soft deep snow is exhausting. You start off confidently striding along, each step nonchalant and casual. This doesn’t last long before mother nature puts you in your place. Your place being ankle deep, knee deep or thigh deep in snow.  

Ankle deep

Knee deep

Thigh deep

Before long, each and every foot placement has an element of caution – it’s unnerving not knowing how far you’re going to sink as you take your next step. The walking poles were no help either. With an even narrower concentration of weight, the poles offered an element of balance but were futile in any type of support role. After much of this, we realized the best way to get out of a deep snow hole is to roll out – using your other leg as leverage doesn’t work as that just sinks too. The deeper the snow, the harder it is to get out. So much for ‘not enough snow’!  

At which point, Darren found himself buried beyond thigh deep. I’d say around buttock deep. It stopped being funny around now. Actually, it stopped being funny a while ago, but remained mildly entertaining for a while. His thrashing attempts to dislodge himself only served to drive his snowshoe deeper into the snow, like quicksand. After much tugging, he had the inspired idea to take the snowshoe off, extract his foot that way and then rescue the snowshoe. A great idea but still took a hell of lot of brute force to dig the snowshoe out. Time to call it a day.

At least where we rejoined our tracks on the way back, we had a choice of stepping in the same holes or making new ones. The going eventually got easier and we were able to appreciate the Worthington Glacier and absorb the extent of Alaska scenery engulfing us.

Valdez, like most places we’ve been, was in-between seasons and kind of quiet.

However, one thing that is not seasonal is the long standing tradition of eagle feeding in Valdez, which happens every evening around 5pm.  Not too sure how I feel about this one – all normal guidance is to not feed wild animals to prevent them becoming dependent and associating humans with food. Telling myself that it probably helped the floundering local eagle population to recover, it was amazing to see these huge creatures gracefully sweep down, their timing perfect to catch the herring thrown high in the air with either their beaks or their powerful talons. And there’s only one permit to do this in the whole of Alaska and that’s right here, right now.

The quiet lull of the seasonal interlude didn’t stop the woman in the Safeway liquor store demanding ID from both of us when buying beer. As we’d just gone out for a casual walk and then just happened to think we’d stock up with a few beers on the way back, I didn’t have my ID with me. But surely that didn’t matter? Darren was buying the beer, I just happened to be tagging along for the ride? Nope, didn’t wash. OK, so I’ll go stand outside as if I’ve never even met Darren, and he can start over, come in alone and buy the beer? Nope. Really? Seriously? So now neither of us can buy beer because one of us doesn’t have ID? Correct. Grrrr.  

Twenty minutes later, I trudged back with my ID. My brain in another cartoon universe was punching her whilst calmly explaining her flawed logic. I won’t go into it here but I am more than happy to regale you next time we catch up in person with all the reasons this was so wrong. In real life I gritted my teeth with my tail between my legs, politely produced my ID and collected the beer. Sometimes you just have to go with it. Obtaining beer is one of those times. 

A defining moment on our trip, it was the first real chance we’d had to buy bottles of Alaskan beer in Alaska. (The Haines brewery we’d previously visited only had draught beer – no bottles!). This meant our collection of beers acquired along the way was now complete: one for each US State and Canadian Province/Territory that we’d passed through. Even though Darren racked up a few States before I joined him, it seemed only right that I help him out with all the beers! What a way to spend the night – blogging and drinking with your best friend, cozy and warm in the campervan, with seafront mountain views. I could get used to this campervan lark 🙂

Our coldest windiest night yet, but what a view to wake up to in our cheeky waterfront camping spot at Kathleen Lake. Next stop: Haines, Alaska.

As we were staying at a proper campsite, we thought now would be a good opportunity to have a proper shower. We’d been getting by with the tiny shower in the campervan (there would be no cat swinging going on in there), switching off the water mid-shower to apply shampoo and conditioner, so as to minimize water usage. I always went first though. Not that stupid. There was also lucrative use of sports wipes – like baby wipes but bigger. I was a tad concerned about more restricted water use when I realized the campsite shower was token driven. But it turns out that eight minutes is actually quite a long time in the shower. Eight glorious minutes. Easily pleased when you’re camping.

I was quite excited to be in another Alaska mecca, thought bubbles above my head materializing with beer and pizza. Although Darren did take the time to point out that it was only two days since we’d had our night out in Whitehorse, doing exactly that. And so it was, being creatures of habit, that we found ourselves at Haines brewery. 

Looking around at our fellow drinking buddies, I concluded that facial hair is a required feature for Alaskan men. Beards mostly, but the odd mustache too. A lumberjack shirt also helps. Darren didn’t quite have the fancy dress shirt, but with over two weeks since he’d had a shave, he was fitting right in.   

And so it came to pass that the next stop was… actually not a pizza place. Turns out they have a distillery in Haines. Nice branding, and actually the drinks weren’t bad either. Including the radioactive green absinthe (once I could get the vague recollections of flaming spoonfuls of sugar and absinthe out of my head – jeez, where was that?). Followed by pizza. OK, what’s your point?

As ‘Haines is for hiking’, we’d got our first one in upon arrival yesterday, and still had one on the cards before we left: Seduction Point trail to Moose Meadows. We headed into the dark fairytale forest, enjoying the peaty, springy feel underfoot, expecting trolls or pixies around every corner… or maybe moose. Much of the trail was a gnarly mass of tree roots, peppered with moss and fallen pine needles, with the odd ‘boardwalk’ to negotiate the boggier sections.  

We also noticed the distinctive yellow plants by the side of the trail, looking like they’d been recently munched. Not to mention the floor was littered with oodles of tell tale chocolate almond moose droppings. But it was only when we were approaching Moose Meadows that we saw: A moose! Actually two moose. (So… mooses? But then more than one mouse is mice. So… mises? No, doesn’t sound right, I think I’ll stick with moose.). Two moose. And one happy chick.

Mere spits of rain in the morning meant I had no excuse to blow our planned hike out. We’d parked up at the end of the snow ploughed section of road, so our hike was going to be snowbound. Out of nowhere, Darren produced a couple of hiking poles and the magic grippy things that attach to the bottom of your boots to stop you skidding around when it’s icy. Mightily impressed at his packing skills!
In the past, I may have likened snow shoeing to walking with a ball and chain – every step you take is hard going and heavy, making meters feel like miles. But now it was time to find out what hard going was like without snowshoes. The snow was surprisingly soft, so every step was a gamble as to whether you would drop just half an inch, or practically lose a leg as you sank through the deceptive white blanket up to your knees. Hard going was an understatement. Although I’m sure a good workout.

As we left the friendliest ghost town in Alaska, we kept an eye out for bears, just in case. We’re not normally early to events, but in this case we had about 3 months grace. The bears flock here for the salmon run in July but right now they’re mostly still tucked up in their beds, maybe the odd one braving its first spring meander from its den, driven by hibernation hunger. 

 We passed Bear Glacier. No bears.

We stayed on the lookout throughout the drive though, every roadsign rekindling a glimmer of hope, a constant reinforcement that bears DO live here. Imagine my squeals of delight when we re-joined the Cassiar highway and were rewarded by the sight of a mother and two cubs munching dandelions by the roadside!

Got so excited I failed to be able to hold a camera, press the button and watch the bears at the same time

Damn bears, photo bombing my picture of the grass

Not only bears but moose! And more bears followed – the Cassiar Highway really IS ‘stuffed with bears’ – on my list to come back some time in the summer!

The evening’s entertainment at the rustic campsite with the awesome view by the river, was provided by Darren. He swiftly realized that skimming stones was kind of difficult on a frozen river, and took instead to trying to hurl a heavy rock onto just the right place where it would fall through the ice – too far and the rock would land with a heavy thud on the thick ice, too close and it was one hell of a splash. By the time he hit bullseye and cracked through the ice, our hands were getting too cold and numb to hold our beer, time to retire to the campervan.

Blue skies and sunshine yesterday afternoon and a clear night made for a frosty start at 28 degrees (below freezing). Even the Canadian geese were kicking off at the cold around the lakeside. We were concerned we might be kept awake by the intermittent rumble of freight trains passing through Burns Lake but they either stopped overnight or we were too zonked to notice.  

Whilst ideally we like to get a few miles in before breakfast, we generally don’t make it too far before discussion in the cab turns to food. Today, we made it all of 25 miles before our breakfast stop. Breakfast and yoga that is.

One of the unfortunate side effects of traveling out of season is the dreaded closed sign. Especially where toilets are concerned. If you gotta go, you gotta go. And we all know the campervan rules on number twos.

Driving along minding our own business, on the lookout for wildlife as always. Spotted something on the grass verge at the side of the road charging in our direction, accompanied by a guy on a quad bike. A cow. Just the one. So the quad bike guy was taking his pet cow for a walk I guess. Or maybe teaching the cow to run, they probably have cow races round here. You may scoff but they have chicken races. Not even kidding. Not just chicken races but World Class chicken races at a British Columbia town called Fort St James. Shame it was out of our way to visit, we were sorely tempted.

Speaking of signs, one of the more random ones was a sign to be on the lookout for 3 missing girls. Their faces were plastered across the billboard together with the words of warning: “Girls – don’t hike on the Highway of Tears.” Good advice it would seem. We kept our eyes peeled but didn’t spot any missing girls or hitchhikers.