Talkeetna to Valdez
Following our Denali adventure, we closed up DaRV and drove an hour south to Wasilla. Grandson, aka nephew Collin, was anxiously awaiting his first RV campout. We loaded him up and returned to Talkeetna. Five-year olds take pleasure in such small things; trying to figure out where the electric steps went when the door closed, or where they came from when the door was opened; riding the camper's pop-out room, in and out, over and over, and a basic grilled-cheese sandwich with french-fries and a Sprite, whilst sitting on the deck of Talkeetna west Rib Pub and Grill with Grandpa and Uncle Tim amd a slew of current-generation Alaska frontiersmen/women.
Next morning we returned, of course, to the Roadhouse for breakfast. Ordering for Colin was a challenge after he clearly announced he did not like eggs, cinnamon rolls nor sourdough pancakes. "Only regular pancakes", he demanded. Wise old Grandpa winked at the server and ordered "a half-order of regular pancakes, please". When the more-than-plate sized sourdough cake was served, Grandpa added butter, folded it into four layers and topped it all with maple syrup, real maple syrup. Grandson ate half that 'regular' pancake with relish and compliments and kindly left the remains for Tim and dad to split.
If the first portion of our trip were labeled "New Adventures" and the second "Wildlife", part three would have to be scenery. The drive from Wasilla to Valdez has to rank close to the top for views, vistas and wonder.
Once we left Colin back safe with his dad, we put the city in the mirrors and rolled on down the two-lane paved-but- frost heaved Glenn Highway east through south central Alaska's farm lands, the Matanuska Valley. Newly greened birch trees lined the road at the lower elevations; low bushes of unknown origin still held the promise of Spring above 2000'.
The Chugach mountain range accompanied us throughout; tall, rugged spires covered in snow and glacier. The views were so majestic one could easily forget how harsh the winters here are and find themselves seriously considering the occasional "For Sale" sign posted near small cabins set on 40 acres or so of Ah!-Laska.
The road became even more challenging as we turned south on the Richardson Highway. Extraordinary vistas continued, however, as we drove through the valley of the Copper River and up through Thompson Pass.
Thompson Pass receives an average 550 inches of snow each winter. Remarkably, the state of Alaska keeps it open year-round. Spring brings towering waterfalls to life that, in winter, draw those who would meet the challenge of climbing a frozen sheet of ice that rises over 600 feet from the highway's edge.
Bright sunshine gave way to clouds and rain as we entered the port city of Valdez, the end of the trans-Alaska pipeline and Alaska's largest year-round ice-free port. The town is surrounded by high Chugach mountain peaks that rival for beauty the Alps surrounding the lakes of Switzerland.
We'd seen only one bear and a couple caribou on the drive in. Once in Valdez we saw more Bald Eagle than seagulls. They circled and sailed the wind currents above us, occasionally gliding low and across a backdrop of snow covered peaks.
It was hear we hoped to accomplish another goal: fishing for halibut in Prince William Sound. Shortly after setting up camp we learned that the town was still waking up from winter and deep-sea fishing would not begin for another week or so. Instead we wandered the streets of this rugged, 47 year old fishing town. Of course Valdez was established long before 1964, but the massive earthquake on Good Friday of that year, dropped the original waterfront and 1400 feet of the town into Prince William Sound, creating a 67 meter high slump-induced tidal wave. That and the earthquake destroyed much of the rest. After determining the original site to unstable, the town was rebuilt at its current site.
Valdez history fills two museums, which we visited at great length. Mostly though, we soaked in the incredible beauty and natural spirit of Prince William Sound. Ah!- Laska. It was enough.
Before bed, we discussed options, considering whether to remain in Valdez as planned but not fish or to catch a ferry to Whittier and motor down to Homer where halibut sport-fishing was well underway, or head for Whittier and decide what to do once there. We opted for Wittier with options.
We over-slept the following morning. Once again the long hours of daylight fooled our minds and bodies, conning us into staying up and active until the wee hours of the morning. When dad fired up the computer, he discovered that the ferry had just left. We couldn't muster the energy to retrace our trail up the Richardson and Glen Highways so reserved a spot for ourselves and DaRv on the fast-ferry, MV Chenega leaving tomorrow at noon.
Having a full day to wander, nap, catch up on mail and such was a treat.
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