Woulda-Shoulda-Coulda

Alaska Adventure, Days 17 & 18:  Anchorage to Atlanta

We had planned to search for more letterboxes around Anchorage on Wednesday but instead decided to take a drive down the Seward Highway and get away from the city, as attractive as it is.  Letterboxes were still to be had on the scenic drive.

SEWARD HIGHWAY NEAR BIRD CREEK

As we drove south between the towering Chugach Mountains and the shoreline of Turnagain Arm, we both remembered this beautiful stretch of highway from our 2002 trip to Alaska and began regretting our decision to skip the Kenai Peninsula south of Anchorage because of our previous visit there.  We made our way slowly down Turnagain Arm, stopping frequently to find letterboxes, which most planters had kindly hidden at picturesque spots.

MCHUGH CREEK FALLS

BELUGA POINT

BIRD CREEK

When we reached Girdwood, we picked up a copy of a map from the local Forest Service office, and Ken selected a road which he thought would lead to a scenic spot.  How he does this from a two-dimensional line map is a mystery, but, as he has so often, he nailed it with Crow Creek Road.  After six miles and a 1,500-ft. elevation gain, we ended up at the trailhead for Crow Pass Trail  Along the way we enjoyed some spectacular views of Goat Glacier and Crow Glacier.

AN ALPINE SETTING IN ALASKA

CROW CREEK ROAD SCENE

Although Atlanta transplant Eidolon had planted a letterbox on Crow Pass Trail, finding it would have involved a 21-mile hike (and 21 back).  We were definitely not prepared for that, but it must lead through some breathtaking scenery.  For others who may find such a trek daunting, we hid a letterbox at the trailhead area, so at least they'll get to see the views from the bottom.

LETTERBOX HIDDEN HERE

Back to the Seward Highway and it was time for us to head north back to Anchorage to prepare for our early flight home the following day.  Wishing we had time to continue southward back to the Kenai, we vowed to return and do just that on another trip.

Thursday's flight home was uneventful save one experience we had never dreamed possible.  We've been through the Seattle airport a half dozen times this year, and most have involved hustling from one concourse to another, screeching to a halt at the departure gate just as boarding began.  In fact, Seatac ranks high on the list of American airports with the longest hikes between gates, their lengthiest being almost three-quarters of a mile.  Incredibly, our flight from Anchorage arrived at the same gate as our flight to Atlanta departed (same equipment, different flight number and crew).  Now B7 is our code word for a stroke of good luck.

Upon reflection, our Alaska adventure was all we hoped it would be.  Yes, hindsight would dictate some changes were we to do it over—skip Wrangell and the rail trip and spend time in the Kenai Peninsula.  The highlight of the trip by far was the brief time we spent in Barrow.  Particularly after our visit to the tragic city of Iqaluit in Nunavut, it was heart-warming to see the Iñupiat so successful at self-governance in a western context.

We're no longer intimidated by the Alaska Highway and may one day take the drive up through BC and Yukon.  Certainly we want to return to the area south of Anchorage.  And we heard from some Kansas chick that there's no place like Nome.

WEDNESDAY, 28 SEPTEMBER & THURSDAY, 29 SEPTEMBER, 2016

A Whale of a Day

Alaska Adventure, Day 16:  Barrow to Anchorage

The sun rose in Barrow at 8:30, and we came out with it.  Our car's windshield was covered with ice, and the temperature hung just below 30°.  We started the day driving out Stevenson Road toward Point Barrow, the northernmost point in the United States, passing the site of yesterday's whale activity.  We were hoping a polar bear or two had discovered the remaining carcass, but instead a large flock of seagulls feasted on the residue.  After the animals have harvested all they can, the bones will be returned to the sea to set the whale's spirit free.  Only bones which wash up on the beach later can be used for local arts and crafts.

SEAGULLS CLEAN UP LIKE THE SCAVENGERS THEY ARE.

Our plan was to continue to the end of the road to search for a letterbox planted there, but as we rode, we realized that life at this remote Arctic community is so different from our familiar lives, we were seeing things we didn't understand.  That's when we decided to check into the guided tour of the town that we had read about.  Thinking we could book it through the local tourist information office, which we vaguely remembered was across from the airport, we headed in that direction.  When we arrived, the modest frame building was padlocked shut, so we decided to try the Iñupiat Heritage Center in the center of town.

TINY TI (BEHIND SIGN) WAS LOCKED UP TIGHT.

When we asked about the tour, the friendly greeter Joan at the desk told us about Tundra Tours operating out of the Top of the World Hotel.  With that info in hand, we decided to check out the heritage center's exhibits while we were there.  Being over 60 years old, we both qualified as "elders" so admission was free.

EXCELLENT EXHIBITS INSIDE

Before we could get started with the exhibits, we pelted Joan with some of the many questions we had about the whaling activity we had seen last night.  After trying to answer our eager inquiries, she finally paused to suggest that the we check out the center's whaling exhibits and then bring her any questions we had left unanswered.

LIFE-SIZE MODEL OF A BOWHEAD WHALE AT I˜NUPIAT HERITAGE CENTER

Joan was right; the exhibits answered all our questions and more.  We learned that the Iñupiat have been living along the Arctic coast in semi-permanent communities near favorable hunting spots for about 4,000 years.  Over the course of hundreds of generations, these hardy people have developed sophisticated knowledge of the animals they hunt and mastered precision skills still in use today.  Whaling is a central influence in the people's lives, and they continue to teach new generations the knowledge and skills of subsistence whaling.

In addition to caribou, walrus, seal and migrating birds, the Iñupiat hunt only one type of whale—the bowhead.  With all the animals, they are engaged in subsistence hunting, taking only what they need for survival, not for sport or monetary gain.  In fact, Iñupiat tradition dictates that all whales harvested be divided among the community.  Unlike the Inuit of Nunavut, the Iñupiat, who share a common ancestry, have been able to withstand threats to their way of life.  (The heritage center also tells the story of the Iñupiats' journey toward self-governance.  Theirs has been a success story.)

BOWHEAD WHALE, SHOWN WITH POLAR BEAR FOR SCALE.  PAINTING BY CARL BUELL

Until the mid-1800s, when commercial whaling reached the region, the Iñupiat were the only ones hunting the bowhead in the area around Barrow.  Then with as many as 200 whaling ships plying the Arctic waters, the population was severely reduced until a moratorium on commercial hunting of the bowhead was passed in 1966 to protect the species.  In 1977, the International Whaling Commission (IWC) also directed the Iñupiat to cease subsistence hunting of bowheads

The North Slope Borough responded by commissioning scientific research to document Iñupiat knowledge of the bowhead as well as its cultural, nutritional and spiritual importance to their society.  Their research also demonstrated that the population was more robust than the commission's data suggested.  The following year, the IWC established a quota system for subsistence whaling in Alaskan Native communities of the North Slope.

THE TYPE OF ALUMINUM BOAT USED FOR FALL HUNTING, FLYING THE WHALING CREW FLAG.

Today about 40 whaling crews operate out of Barrow, each with its own flag.  Whaling is a group effort, approached with dignity and respect for the whale.  Iñupiat believe that a whale gives itself to them if the whale finds that crew worthy.  Hunting techniques emphasize a quick and humane kill, and crew members maintain a solemn attitude while the whale is dying, demanding silence.  In respect to the whale's spirit, no expression of joy for the harvest is permitted until the whale is dead and the crew has surrounded the whale and said a prayer of thanksgiving for the gift they have received.

ALL ABOARD FOR TUNDRA TOURS

By noon, we had made our way to the hotel and reserved spots on the 12:00 tour.  As it turned out, we were the only passengers in the tour van with our local driver/guide, "John."  Like every other vehicle in town, the van bore a thick coat of dust, inside and out.  A dutiful host, John drove us past every possible building of note in town—the "new" high school (opened in 1985) and the old high school, the new hospital and the old hospital, etc.  Finally after three and a half hours, we insisted (not for the first time) that he return us to the hotel so we could retrieve our rental car.  Shortly before we both would have begun drooling and mumbling incoherently, we made our escape.  Though he was very patient and no doubt had the best of intentions, John, following the script he had been given, told us very little about the local way of life unless we probed him with questions.  At $100 per person, it was for us a disappointment, for the tour company, a missed opportunity to educate visitors.

PREPARING TO FEED THE COMMUNITY

One of the few interesting stops we made on the tour was at the home of John's cousin, a whaling captain whose crew brought in the whale yesterday.  By local tradition, the day after a successful landing, the crew flag flies over the captain's home to notify the community of the place to come and share in the first meal from the whale.  The choicest parts of the whale are boiled and served up.  The remainder of the captain's share is put in cold storage and part will be used later for other community meals at Thanksgiving and Christmas.  We were offered a sample of fresh maktak, skin attached to a trimmed layer of blubber.  A very popular treat locally, it was something we were glad vegetarianism gave us an excuse to decline.

FIND THE GRASS PAST WHERE THE SIGN USED TO BE, THE CLUE ADVISED.

Back in our own vehicle, we made haste to Point Barrow, ten miles north of the town and the northernmost point in Alaska and the U.S.  Two years ago, a geologist doing work in the area hid a letterbox there.  Having read the clue in advance, we figured we had as much chance of discovering a crocodile hanging out there as we did of locating this letterbox.  Somehow with an uncanny combination of intuition and luck, Ken dug the box up.  Vehicular traffic over the grass had shoved the box several inches below the sand, but he had the box in hand in about five minutes.

NEVER ACTUALLY EXPECTING A FIND, THE BOX OWNER WAS THRILLED.

After logging in, we headed back toward town to plant a box of our own.  The spot we had picked out was Cathy Parker Field, home of the Barrow High School Whalers.  Before driving the six miles back to the field, we wanted to collect a sample from the Arctic Ocean out where it was easy to approach the water.  Recently we had purchased some soda bottle preforms (plastic test tubes with caps), thinking they might make good letterbox containers.  When they proved unsuitable for that, we decided to start a collection of waters of the world.  Though the tube is 4½ inches long, the walls are thick (why it couldn't be used for a letterbox) so it holds only one ounce of water, well below TSA's 3.4-oz maximum.

IF YOU WONDER WHAT WE WILL DO WITH THESE WATERS, SO DO WE.

Continuing south on Stevenson Road toward Cathy Parker Field, we noticed five small aluminum boats fanned out and jointly tugging a submerged cargo toward the shore and knew one of the two whales landed today was about to reach the beach.  News travels very fast in Barrow as it is broadcast on a local VHF radio network.  According to tour guide John, most homes and businesses have receivers and monitor them.  By the speed that yesterday's polar bear sightings (mother and two cubs) and the whale catches spread around town, the system is very effective.  And that was why a group of people were gathered on the shore to watch the arrival.  We stayed also to observe this important community event.

BARROW HIGH WHALERS PRACTICE AT CATHY PARKER FIELD.

At last we made our way to Cathy Parker Field, where the Whalers of Barrow High (enrollment: 206) were engaged in an after-school practice session.  If this seems an odd name for the stadium of a school with 92% Alaska Native enrollment, you haven't heard the story of Cathy Parker.  Concerned about student drug use and a high drop-out rate, Barrow High officials decided in 2007 to start a football program to try to motivate teens to stay in school.  Only wiry tundra grass will grow this far above the Arctic Circle, so players learned the game of football on a rock-strewn dirt field with yard markers lined in flour.

WILDLIFE OFFICIALS PATROL DURING GAMES TO PREVENT POLAR BEARS FROM ENTERING FIELD.

After an ESPN reporter heard about this venture, the network broadcast a piece about the team, and that's when Cathy Parker entered the picture.  A Jacksonville, Florida mother of high school football players, she took it upon herself to help the Barrow Whalers.  Over the course of a year, she raised almost $1 million to have the blue and gold artificial turf field manufactured and installed across Stevenson Road from the Arctic Ocean.  So, of course, the field bears her name.  A movie retelling this heart-warming story—Touchdown on the Tundra—is currently in production and is scheduled for release in 2017.

EVERY FIELD SHOUD HAVE A SPECIAL SHELTER FOR ELDERS, YES?

While the players were listening to their coach and engaged in drills, we slipped behind one of the two press boxes (made from shipping crates) and hid our letterbox.  In keeping with local customs and respect, one of the press boxes is for media, the other is for elders to watch the game in comfort.

At the airport—another single-gate terminal—we encountered a different setup to meet security requirements.  Only after passengers were called to board did we go through TSA screening on our way to the tarmac.  It was very efficient, and by 6:45, the 7 p.m. flight was taxiing for take-off.  As we gazed out the window, we felt a bit wistful, almost wishing we had planned to stay longer, yet thankful for a full and fascinating 23 hours in America's northernmost town.

NOTE:  In October, 2016, the citizens of Barrow voted to change the name of the town to its traditional Iñupiat name–Utqiagvik (oot-kay'-ahg-vik), which means a place for gathering wild roots.  The change was to become effective in November.

TUESDAY, 27 SEPTEMBER, 2016

WALKING DOWN STREET TO AIRPORT FROM CAR RENTAL OFFICE

To the Top of America

Alaska Adventure, Day 15:  Anchorage to Barrow

Since the first time I noticed it sitting way up there on top of the North American map, I've been fascinated with Barrow, Alaska.  350 miles north of the Arctic Circle.  Surrounded on three sides by the Arctic Ocean and 200 miles of uninterrupted flat tundra on the fourth.  With no barriers to discourage it, extreme wind chill is a serious factor in Barrow.  I know this because my curiosity about the town often leads me to check out their weather.  The sun sets in mid-November and doesn't show its face again for two months.  Average temps from November till March hover below 0° F.

WAY UP NORTH WHERE EVEN THE SUN HIBERNATES IN WINTER

So when it was determined that we would travel around Alaska on this trip, we decided to go to either Barrow or Prudhoe Bay, also on the Arctic coast.  It didn't take much research to discover that Prudhoe Bay is not really a town in the traditional sense, but mostly an oil field and the transients who support it.  Moreover, the casual visitor cannot just go to Prudhoe Bay as it is beyond a security checkpoint ten miles south of the coast.  All indicators pointed to Barrow, then, and in the end, we were very pleased with the choice.

No roads lead to Barrow, so we turned to Alaska Air yet again and booked a flight for late Monday afternoon.  We'd be spending only one night and day there, flying back to Anchorage the following evening.  Still suffering from the sluggish stupor stirred by Sunday's rail ride, we focused our plans on our 7 p.m. departure from Anchorage, as we letterboxed our way around the city during the day.

After finding what we had decided would be the last box of the day near the Captain Cook monument downtown about 4:45, we set the GPS to return to the Homewood Suites, where we had stayed the night before, so we could leave our rental car and ride the hotel shuttle to and from the airport.  At 4:55, my phone buzzed with a notification that our flight to Barrow was now boarding at Gate C4.  Frantically we tried to figure out what was going on as we shot across two lanes of traffic to turn onto the road toward the airport, which we were coincidentally about to drive past.

ANCHORAGE AIRPORT

Nothing had changed.  Our flight was and always had been scheduled to leave at 5:35, and indications pointed to an on-time departure.  It was our return flight to Anchorage that leaves at 7:00; we had confused the two times.  After missing the turn for short term parking our first time through the airport terminal entrance road, we raced back around, zipped into the parking decks and found an empty spot at 5:05.  Snatching our coats and bags, we locked the car and took off running toward the terminal.

Incredibly, the TSA security checkpoint was totally deserted except for the agents.  Due to a glitch with the Alaska Air app, we had both our boarding passes only on my iPad.  "No problem," the sympathetic TSA agent assured us.  I passed through fine, but Ken's bag needed further inspection (due to a bottle of water deep inside that he had planned to remove before we departed later in the evening).

"Go on to the gate so they'll know we're coming," he urged, and I took off speed walking to gate C4.  It seemed to take forever, though I was there within five minutes.  As I approached the empty waiting area, panting and breathless, the gate agent calmly asked, "Are you Dianne?"

737 COMBI CARGO-PASSENGER PLANE  (photo from Wikipedia)

"Yes," I gasped, and I explained Ken's delay.  She assured me kindly that all was fine and we still had time to make the flight.  Just after she radioed the crew on board that we had arrived, Ken walked up, and an Alaska Air agent escorted us to the tarmac where the plane was waiting.  It was a 737 Combi (cargo in front half, passengers in rear), so we climbed air stairs to the back door.  As we entered, we could see that all seats were filled save two and every overhead bin was closed except those at row 21.  Seconds after we stowed our bags and buckled up, the doors were closed and the plane began pushing back from the gate.

BARREN BARROW LANDSCAPE

On our approach to Barrow a couple of hours later, we opened our window shade to see a barren landscape in brown and white, perforated with a web of lines running in all directions where the ice has melted and cracked.  The tiny terminal is in the center of town with just enough space for airport business.  Barrow's only car rental agency was off site a two-block walk away.  Fortunately the temperature had leveled out at 30°, and Barrow's notorious wind chill was giving us a bit of a break.

ARRIVING IN BARROW

Upon first glance, Barrow (pop. 4,212)—with its unpaved streets and prefab buildings—looks as if it may be some temporary outpost on the Arctic tundra.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  Although the town was formally incorporated under Alaskan state government only in 1959, archaeological evidence indicates that the Iñupiat hunters established a village in the Barrow area as far back as 500 A.D.  On the outskirts of town, ruins of semi-underground sod mound homes have been dated to about 800 A.D.

REMAINS OF ANCIENT MOUND HOME.  (Note exposed end of a whale jawbone used for roof supports.)

Today Barrow is the economic, transportation and administrative center for North Slope Borough (equivalent to a county unit in most states).  The North Slope is home to some 9,600 people (76% Iñupiat) spread across eight villages in an 89,000-sq. mi. area stretching from the foothills of the Brooks Range to the Arctic coast.
As we quickly learned, Barrow's Iñupiat seem to be fully integrated into the fabric of the society here, unlike the native Inuit in Nunavut's capital of Iqaluit.  Many enterprises in town are operated by Ukpeaġvik Iñupiat Corporation (UIC), an Alaska Native company which provides social and economic resources to Iñupiat shareholders and their descendants.  Both the hotel and the rental car we had booked were UIC enterprises.

When we picked up our white Jeep Cherokee, the car rental agent informed us that a Barrow whaling crew had landed a bowhead that day and it had been brought to the butchering spot.  When we stopped at the hotel to check in, we met Sherry, a tourist from Arkansas, who also told us about the whale and asked if we wanted to follow her to the location where the flensing was taking place.

WHALES HARVESTED IN BARROW ARE SHARED WITH THE COMMUNITY.

We couldn't pass up an opportunity to see the local community engaged in one of its important rituals, so we drove five miles out of town to the old Air Force runway where we found scores of cars parked and great hunks of butchered whale lying on the grooved pavement.  By tradition, captains of whaling crews that were not involved in the catch each send one or two men to help flense the whale and collect a share for their crew.  People from the community who are not part of a crew also come and help with the work so they can get a portion.

PRICES ARE TWO, THREE, EVEN FOUR TIMES THOSE IN LOWER 48.

Subsistence hunting is important in this remote community.  Like Iqaluit, Nunavut, that we visited last month, Barrow receives all its supplies by boat or by air.  There are no roads or rails to provide cheap transport.  And ships can reach the town for only a few weeks in the summer.  Hunting supplements the very expensive food products in the grocery store.  Here are some of the prices we saw when we stopped to pick up a few items at the local supermarket:
               Blueberries (half-pint) - $11.69
               Bananas - $2.99/lb.
               Apples - $10.69 for 3-lb. bag
               Milk (half-gallon) - $9.49
               Bread (loaf) - $7.97
               Tomatoes - $5.79/lb.
               Tylenol (generic 100-ct.) - $14.00
How fortunate for the Inuit that their historical diet supplies nutrients like vitamins A, D and E, which other societies obtain only from cultivated foods.

Though we have just tomorrow to spend in this distant outpost, we are eager to learn as much as we can about this very interesting American community.

MONDAY, 26 SEPTEMBER, 2016