Our Alaskan Adventure Part 2: The Sights

Alaska is many things. Besides huge, that is. Although, yes, it is indeed massive. It's over twice the size of Texas. And when you super-impose it over 'the lower 48', it stretches all the way from coast to coast. It's so big, it's somehow the Northernmost, the Westernmost AND the Easternmost points in the U.S. (part of it extends into the Eastern Hemisphere) But, Alaska is more than just some gigantic mass.  

It is diverse. More than we expected it to be. But I guess when your state is 1/5^th the size of the rest of the United States, there is room for variances. And Alaska definitely has them. Breathtaking views. Wild forests. Mountains. Glaciers. Coastlines. 

Alaska is many things, and we wanted to see them all. 

 

Alaska is icy.

If you asked most people to describe Alaska is 3 words, odds are, most will mention the ice and snow that is indicative of the region. Didn't we all think, as kids, that Alaska was nothing but ice? A giant snowy land where everyone lived in igloos and rode dog sleds everywhere...? 

Actually, that place sounds kind of cool. But, indeed that is not really Alaska. Not really. 

 

Byron Glacier, Girdwood, AK

Exit, stage right

That's not to say there isn't any ice in the 49^th state. There is. Tons of it. 5% of the state is covered by glaciers and active glacial fields. And 5% of Alaska is a lot (in case you forgot how big I just said Alaska was).

Glaciers are important to the whole region, and Alaska's glaciers are important to everyone. Alaska has more than half all of the glaciers in the entire world. Over 100,000 of them to be accurate. With that many, we had to go see a few.

In the Kenai Mountains, south of Anchorage lies one of the most accessible valley glaciers in the state. Exit Glacier, was named when the first successful mountaineering party crossed the Harding Icefield and exited down this glacier to the town of Seward below. In recent years, Exit Glacier has become known for it's rapid glacial melt, and is often cited as a one of the most noticeable effects of global climate change. 

That's some dense ice.

Where do urinal cakes come from? Glaciers.

Not really. But the glacial ice sure looks to be the right shade of blue. That's what happens to ice when it gets really dense. Years of compression force out any air pockets between the ice crystals making it so compact. When this happens, the ice only absorbs a small amount of red light, leaving a bluish tint in the reflected light. The results are beautiful.

Alaska is wet.

 

Now, we're no traveling dummies. We know a few things. (I mean, we have a blog and everything!) We know that the only time to go to the land of the midnight sun, is summer. And even though their version of summer is nowhere near ours, it does get decently warm. Warm enough to melt ice anyways. And it does. Every year. All that melting glacial ice, it has to go somewhere, right? It does. It flows. Downhill mostly. And in it's wake, the melting ice leaves an insane amount of waterways.

12,000 rivers. That seems like a lot, right? It is. But, not when you compare that number to the ridiculous number of lakes.

3 million lakes. Yes, million. (Nice try, Minnesota) The rivers and lakes amount to 40% of the surface water in the United States. That's a lot.

Metal Death Cage

Our first experience with the waterways of Alaska was our hike to the Girdwood hand tram. The trail lead us a couple miles into the woods and eventually to a self powered tram. We pulled ourselves, a few at a time, across the gorge, over what they called a stream. A raging stream. Through a steep canyon. In a metal death cage. 

It was awesome.

 

 

We had crossed a raging stream, and now were ready to take on something bigger.  Up next, a rafting trip down the Kenai River. With my brother-in-law piloting the 6 person craft, we floated down the swift moving, but wide river. We stopped along the way to fish for salmon from the shoreline. Minutes turned to hours as the river rushed by. We fished. We sat. We had a fire. The incredibly long twilight allowed us to stay out into the night. By the time we floated out, it was finally dark.

10:00 PM approx.

We had lots of hopes of things we wanted to do while in Alaska. Swimming, outside, was nowhere on that list. Yet, somehow we managed to get that done too. While up north, on our second weekend, it reached in to the 80s. My sister said it was the warmest she had even seen it since she lived there. It was sunny and clear. We were in the right place to check out one of the 3 bazillion lakes in Alaska. And, as a bonus, it was totally warm enough for the kids to swim. So swim they did. We hiked. They swam. We soaked in the sun. They swam. It was bliss for everyone.

Alaska is lush.

This is the one that surprised us the most. Alaska is really green. Plants are abundant. Not just pine trees, either. Tons of plants. Of all kinds. Everywhere. I suppose we are just used to mountain areas being more dry, less lush. But, Alaska is different.

I guess when it rains a lot, water is plentiful, and the sun is out for 20 hours a day, things tend to grow. Even though their warm season is short, it packs a serious punch. They get like a hyper-version of spring and summer, where everything grows like crazy, gets really big, and then just as quickly it goes away. 

 

Everywhere we went there we flowers. Wild flowers. Potted flowers. The famous Alaska Fireweed. Surprising pops of yellow and purple and pink dotted nearly every landscape we saw. 

An unexpected treat.

One hike took us into what felt like a rain forest. There were huge ferns all over. Plants with enormous leaves. Thick moss. Turns out, the area was indeed labeled a 'temperate rain forest'.

Just south of my sister's house was an area known as Potter's Marsh. This freshwater marsh, nestled between the foot of the mountains and the sea, is an animal sanctuary and ideal wildlife watching spot. This marsh is home to tons of migratory birds, and other mammals, A wooden boardwalk winds through the marsh with observation decks and binoculars aplenty. 

Alaska is coastal.

Alaska has more coastline than the entire rest of the United States combined. Over 33,000 miles of shoreline all told. And its coastal areas are no different than the rest of the state. They are also quite diverse.

Anchorage itself is technically a coastal town, sitting on the Cook Inlet that eventually dumps into the Pacific Ocean. But Anchorage's shoreline isn't conducive to typical marine activities. Because of all the silt in the water from the glaciers, the coastline in and around Anchorage is a boggy, muddy mess. Boats can't sail up and down the inlet. No marinas. No tour boats. But lots and lots of mud. When the tide was out, the wet and sloppy silt became the perfect messy play thing for our kids. They squished around in the stuff all afternoon. They even came up with 57 practical uses for this gooey muck. 
Not a hyperbole. 

57 uses.  Lotion. Hair gel. Makeup.

They listed them. 

All 57.

Repeatedly.

Use No. 32: Mud Bombs. Incoming!

Around the bend from mud beach, at the tip of Anchorage lies yet another landscape, some towering sand dunes. On a different messy day (in which we also didn't care what our kids were wearing) they jumped and leaped and ran barefoot through the dunes. They buried each other up to their heads. We picked sand out of the hair for days. 

Beluga Point

Worth it.

As we drove further south, down towards the Kenai peninsula, the shorelines changed. Now boulders and cliff outcroppings dotted the coast. These spots, which still had silt and mud below them, were perfect for exploring, staring at the sea, and taking amazing photos.  

We still hadn't seen the typical coastal area one thinks of, until we made it all the way down the peninsula to the town of Seward. Following our late night floating on the Kenai River, we drove to the sea town and spent the night in the marina, inside the Driver's sailboat. 

The next morning, Captain Craig took us out into the busy harbor. It was filled with guided fishing tour boats. Sail boats. Cruise ships. All of them came and went from the town named for the man who bought Alaska. This harbor was bustling, as we set sail and pointed towards the gulf. The sails were full. It was windy. The sea was choppy. Then... there was engine trouble. And even though we were powered by the wind, Capt. Craig didn't feel comfortable going on without a working backup engine. So, we headed back. 

 

Too brief an excursion for some, but still long enough for others to get seasick. (nudge, nudge Haley)

Don't hit the giant cruise ship, Cap'n.

Alaska is friendly. 

Cheers, Alaska.

Alaska has the lowest population density in the United States. Mostly cause it's huge. But also because a lot of the state is simply uninhabitable. There is one person for every square mile in Alaska. If New York City had the same density of people, there would only be 16 people in Manhattan. I bet parking would still suck, though.

Where we went never felt that sparse. It did feel immense, but almost never desolate of people. Probably because the population of the state doubles every summer for tourist season. Stupid tourists. They ruin everything. I mean, not us, of course. We're cool. We have a blog. 
But everyone else. Geesh...

That being said, nearly everyone we met our entire trip were the nicest people. They all made their towns, their restaurants, their attractions that much more memorable for us.

 
People sill actively mine for gold in Alaska. The state's big gold rush happened in the mid 20th century. But, even today there are profits to be made from digging valuable metals out of the ground.

We stopped at what I was sure was going to be a tourist trap, Indian Valley Mine, to 'pan for gold' as they promised.

As it turns out, it was exactly as advertised. A place to pan for real gold, and have fun doing it. This stop, run by a husband and wife for decades, bought piles of dirt from active gold mines. We bought some containers of this potential treasure, and set to work panning. The owners patiently and gently showed all the kids how to extract the valuable stuff from the dirt. They all got the hang of it, and after an hour of mining, they each took home a pretty good haul of gold, amethysts, garnet, and copper. A great stop run by great people.

We're gonna be rich!

Talkeetna Fireweed

 

Going in to our final weekend, with the weather looking promising, we decided to head back up north and check out the town of Talkeetna. This quaint and charming village lies just south of Denali State Park and is a jumping off point for mountain climbers, airplane tours, and river guides. Said to be the inspiration for 'Northern Exposure' this town is no hidden gem. No, instead it is one of the most popular places for tourists in the summer. The influx of people do not take away from this town's charm, however. They almost add to it. We spent two days in Talkeetna. Shopping. Hiking. Hanging out. Listening to music. And really, just loving this town. 

It was one of of favorite stops the entire trip. I mean, they have famously had a cat as their mayor the last two decades. How bad a place could it be?

Mayor Stubbs (II)

One other thing helped the allure of Talkeetna. There was it's promise of amazing views. 

You see, Talkeetna is also known for being a great place to see Denali...

Alaska has tall mountains.

The Great One

We can't even sarcastically utter 'allegedly' when we say that any more. Now we know Denali is real. 

We saw it. With our own common 70% eyes.

The clear skies held, and the view of the mountain from the riverside park in Talkeetna was simply amazing. 

 

It was well worth the return effort.

We were now the elite.

The upper crust.

The chosen few.

We were now official members of the 30% Club.

Screw you 70 percenters.

Now it just feels like we're showing off.

 

 

Life's a Beach

Sometimes, life really is a beach.

But, only if you are actually on a beach.

Take Your Pick

The complete (and sometimes graphic) story of Norah & the Toothpick...

Her mood changed this quick.

Our last day in Chicago was not supposed to be a memorable one. In the morning, we packed our bags to leave. Then, our journey hit a snag. A wooden kind of snag. While at our hosts' house, the kids had been engaged for countless hours playing what they called 'Shop'. They made various items, and then forced us to spend our actual money on these goods. It was a great game. For them. It did, however, occupy them completely, and it was totally self motivated, so we let it go on for days. The biggest hit in their shop was the 'candy'. This was basically raisins, chocolate chips and popcorn on toothpick skewers. The candy was so popular, that the shop owners themselves decided to eat into their profits. There's no telling how many of these candy kabobs they devoured. While little kids may be good at setting up a make believe store, they fall woefully short in the cleaning up department. A discarded toothpick, waiting in the plush carpet, was bound to find a child's bare foot. It did. And Norah wailed as she realized she had been impaled. Jenny came running. What she saw, was a small hole in the bottom of Norah's foot. Right below her toes. “I stepped on a toothpick!” she wailed. There was no longer any sign of a toothpick still in her foot. Some blood. But that's it. “She pulled part of it out”, said Nina. Then Jenny felt the top of Norah's foot. The opposite side of the entry wound. A pointy lump. Part of the toothpick was still in her foot, and it was in really deep.

Luckily, the nearest ER was ridiculously close, so Jenny raced there for what we hoped would be a quick extraction. We were wrong. The x rays turned up nothing. Not because you couldn't tell there was a toothpick still in her. You could. It made a cartoonish lump where it was sticking out the other end. No, because it was made of wood, it apparently didn't read on an x ray. So, without being able to exactly pinpoint its location, the orthopedist likened it to the proverbial 'needle in a haystack'. He worried that more damage could possibly be done to Norah's foot by digging around in it, if he couldn't quickly locate the toothpick. The alternative was to wait. That's it. Take some antibiotics. Some pain meds. And wait for the thing to work its way out. 

So, that's what we did. We waited. We were told we should follow up with another orthopedist in St. Louis, so we headed back that afternoon. With her leg propped up on the seat in front of her, we powered through Illinois quickly. Once back in St. Louis, we started doing everything we could to coax that toothpick out of her. And I don't mean the figurative 'everything'. I mean the literal one. Everything. She soaked it in Epsom salts. Several times a day. We tried salve. We tried just about every remedy that anyone recommended. It read like a nice sized grocery list. Bananas. Soap. Sugar. Bread. Milk. Salt. We learned what a poultice is. And we even contemplated wrapping her foot in bacon. All this to try and help her body works it magic, and start to eject the toothpick on its own. If it would simply 'present' itself, (meaning the tip of it start to poke back out) it could then be easily extracted. We waited some more. It wasn't easy at first. Norah's foot was swollen and she was in a lot of pain. We kept the pain medication coming around the clock at first. We tried to make light of the situation. Clark nicknamed her The Gimp. Jenny called her Woody. The follow up visit in St. Louis told us pretty much of the same. No digging around. Too risky. Waiting was still our best option.

*Authentic wooden leg (contain less than .01% wood)

It had been almost a week now since the toothpick became a part of our life. Norah gimped through Halloween. We called her 'Woody the Peg Legged Pirate' (now with actual wood!) After the holiday, we were ready to hit the road, and Norah was starting to cope better now.  Your body is pretty amazing sometimes. Once it recognizes a foreign body, it starts building up barriers around it, to make you more comfortable. It adapts to it. Some people incorrectly think that your body can 'absorb' or 'break down' something. It does not. It just builds up cushions around it and keeps it. For a long time sometimes. As we talked to others about Norah's condition, we heard many similar stories of things being poked into peoples bodies. For years sometimes. Decades other times. Then one day, pop, out they would come. These were not the stories we wanted to hear. We didn't need this toothpick to become a permanent member of our family.

Soaking rays, soaking feet.

It was time to leave, and Norah still couldn't walk. We got her some crutches, brought our box of remedies, and hit the road. We had to alter some of our stops along the way, because there was too much hiking, or walking at them. Instead, we had lots of layovers along the way where the kids could swim. Indoor pools at hotels. Hot Springs pools. Hot tubs. We hit them all. They were great for a couple of reasons. It was something Norah could do without pain. And all that soaking was bound to help work that thing out of there. Certainly a few hours in a mineral rich hot spring would draw that thing right out, right? The entry hole which had closed up, was starting to look a little bigger. We were hopeful. Any day that toothpick would present itself.

Eventually Norah got better and better on her crutches. The swelling on her foot had gone down. The pain had pretty much subsided. She even started putting some weight on the side of that foot. Her body was doing its job. It was adapting to the toothpick. It just wasn't doing the 'pushing out the foreign body' kind of work that we were hoping for.

Once we finally arrived in Phoenix, Norah followed up with a 3^rd orthopedist. This time we'd get different answers. They used ultrasound on her foot, and finally pinpointed the location of the toothpick. It was deep as we had thought. It was located between the 3^rd and 4^th metatarsal. It had not moved towards the entry wound as we had hoped. It was, in fact, still near the top of the foot. Surgery was set. It was coming out through the top. 

Slightly larger than a needle. Her foot, slightly smaller than a haystack.

The surgery was crazy simple. The most worrisome part of it, was having her go under general anesthesia. Even though the cut would be small, and relatively painless, they couldn't have Norah squirming around while they removed it. So, out she went. It would be a quick procedure. Just thirty minutes from the time they took her away from Jenny, to the time she could go back in to see her. A tiny incision was made, and the slightly larger than 1 inch toothpick fragment was easily removed. 

Recovery was almost instant. No stitches. No big bandages. By the next day, she was already running around like normal, glad to be rid of her little wooden companion.

Goodbye Woody the Gimp.

Good riddance toothpick.