The Hurricane Train

So what the heck where we doing in Talkeetna anyway?  Well, there are a lot of ways to explore Alaska.  If you are exploring Alaska shortly after knee surgery, I highly recommend the motorized way (although in retrospect, if you are the surgeon or physiotherapist of someone exploring Alaska shortly after knee surgery, you might highly recommend the Discovery Channel way.  I believe the exact words when I showed up with a swollen leg to my followup appointment were "I meant you could walk around the block, not march off into the Chugach range!"  I never was very good at understanding implied boundaries).  So in my mind, driving to Talkeetna and hopping on board the Alaska Railroad was basically the same as resting on the couch, minus the ice pack.

So this is Warren.  He is the long-standing conductor of "The Hurricane Train," operated by Alaska Railroad.  

And this is Siobhan, who for the rest of the trip would be known as "Shib-ham" thanks to the spelling error on her ticket, which was far more amusing to me than her.

And here is the Hurricane Train.  Alaska Railroad trains are a stunning blue and yellow against the colorful Alaska landscape.  They go all the way from Seward and Homer (the southernmost tisp of the Alaska Highway system) to Fairbanks.  I have often admired them picturesquely winding around the mountains at Turnagain Arm.  The Hurricane Train is advertised as one of the most remote routes, that traverses where roads care not to go.  So we thought we would go see some wilderness.

Talkeetna is based near three major rivers, the Sustina, the Chilitna, and of course, the Talkeetna.  The Hurricane Train heads north and follows the Sustina river.  It's one of the last "flagstop" trains -- flagstop meaning you can get on, or off, anywhere you want to.  It operates on a quasi regular schedule, meaning it runs on certain days, and in a certain general time period, but no one knows who might want on or off, and where, so the schedule can be a bit random.

The Sustina River

The train had some snacks, and a coffee pot, but bringing your own lunch is highly recommended.  It's about a 7 hour journey round trip.  Warren the conductor stopped to pose for a picture with Shibham (hee hee), which seemed cool at first, but in retrospect it leaves me to wonder...who was driving the train?

Warren knew the area really well.  We were hoping to see herd of bear grazing in open meadows...this was unlikely from the start since bears don't do herds, but it was a secret wish all the same.  What we got, was a family of swans.

A little less thrilling than a herd of grizzlies...a little smaller too...this is the best zoom image I could get with a 55mm lens whilst on a moving train.

We did see a whole lot of beautiful scenery out there though.

After a few hours of the river, and grass, you start looking for something else to take pictures of.  That kind of leaves the train itself.

There are people who live up here, where there are no roads.  This couple has been living on this plot of land since the 60's.  No roads, no running water.  They probably see herds of grizzlies all the time.

This is probably my favorite picture of Shibby on the whole trip.  It made both of us laugh.

Every once in a while we would stop for a few minutes to stretch our legs.  Unfortunately, the train stops weren't like roadside turnouts overlooking a stunning vista...sometimes it was just a rare clearing where they had enough room to have two tracks between the river and the mountain...a train passing lane.  So at those spots, there wasn't much to photograph.  Still no bears, but here's some train tracks.

I did think the reflection of the scenery off the side of the train was kind of fascinating though.

Here's what oncoming train traffic looks like (still no bears).

No moose either, although I had hoped one would be in the marshy terrain.

This is how newspaper delivery works up near Hurricane Gulch.

And further to my forest fair footwear post, these feet boarded the train in the middle of nowhere.  Like thickly wooded, pathless, marshy forest middle of nowhere.  Alaskans have a flair all of their own.

One last picture of the train going around a corner.

Arrival at Hurricane Gulch...a one shack town, quite literally.  We would go just a little further down the tracks to Hurricane Gulch before turning back around.  The tracks head all the way to Fairbanks, through Denali National Park, but our little journey was almost over.

Halloween Treat

Being a bacteria-whisperer is my gift.  My sister...she makes beautiful things.

I was one of those kids that didn't actually like Halloween.  My sister usually did, and I still remember the year she went as a cheerleader, in a fabulous teal blue satin movie-worthy costume that she somehow talked my conservative-minister-grandmother into sewing for her.  I, however, made my own and walked the 4 streets of the nearest small town in the saddest looking attempt at a Tinkerbell costume ever created.  It looked like a cross between crooked cardboard angel wings and a dunce cap...with Christmas tree garland glued on, and attached over my snowsuit.  It wouldn't be confirmed that I had no artistic abilities for a few more failed Halloweens.

My sister's ghostly yard

The first Halloween I remember is a brief snippet of a memory.  All I really remember was thinking that little white poodle looked nice.  I don't know what I was wearing, but I recall I was little enough to be carried home without any candy a few minutes later after it bit me.  Then there was the year the kids a year older waited until my friend Gisele and I had finished knocking on every door in town before jumping out of some bushes to steal our candy.  Gigi, as she was known, turned out to be more formidable than I expected, and the sight of her winding up her pillowcase of candy and clubbing the neighbour boy twice in the head and then dropping him with a swift kick to the nards is with me still.  By grade 5, I had decided no amount of candy was worth it.

I still don't like dress up, but over the years I have started to love watching people dress their kids up.  My nieces and nephews...Jaycena as a cow, Jordan as and elephant, Justy as a lion, Jaycena as Pocahantas.  This year I watch my former colleagues and friends parade about their mini Ewoks, Tree frogs, Ariel's, and notably, a bottle of ketchup.

Christmas had always been my favorite holiday.  But since my family lost Jaycena in 2009, I still find Christmas Day too painful without her to enjoy.  But last year, I was in Canada for October.  My sister, ever crafty (the cheerleader costume year was not a one off) asked me to spend Halloween at her house last year.  I found a little magic in the way she does Halloween.  Bags of leaves became ghosts.  Little spiders and webs lined the yard.  And she has become a pumpkin carving master.

I am not sure how far back the tradition goes, but at some point, pumpkin carving night became an event.  It started back when her kids were little, and pumpkin carving was something they loved.  These last few years, the yard has become a gallery.  The fabulous Doug and Monique always host pumpkin carving night, and it's safe to say there may be a cocktail or a cool one as the pumpkins are reinvented.  My sister's heart is always with Jaycena, and therefore Jaycena shines through in anything my sister puts her heart into.  Pumpkin carving is no different.  If you look carefully at the pumpkins, you will see tributes to the things on her heart -- a wistful looking young girl, hearts for Jaycena, Laramie, and Brooke.  A hockey player for Brandon.  A shaft of wheat for Kevin.  The heavy toll of so many losses in a small community in such a short period of time.  But also there are symbols of music, tradition.  Her gift to me last year, were two little pumpkins designed after my two kitties -- my copilots through my 20's, 30's, careers, countries; the two little friends who never left my side until the day they left this world.

Well, Halloween sort of got into my heart too after that.  So this year she mentioned she was gathering her pumpkins for the annual event, and I remarked on Skype that I was really sorry not to be there this year, I had enjoyed it so much last year.  "Well, go buy a pumpkin and Skype in to the pumpkin party," she said.  Genius!  And so I did...I found the perfect pumpkin, I made sure to leave work at a reasonable hour, and rushed home to Skype in and carve my pumpkin.  Step 1 of pumpkin carving is to match your model to your pumpkin.  Check!

Of course my model thought it might try to eat the canvas...

Step 2, open a bottle of wine, and initiate Skype call.  I was able to join my sister, nephew, brother-in-law, and Doug, Monique, Melissa, and Matt who I will just call family because I don't know how to define the connection...but they're stuck with me now :)  It was great to have a chat, see what they had all come up with, and little to some quasi-encouraging chortles as i tackled my pumpkin with a steak knife, since I still don't have a fully stocked kitchen up here yet.  My sister got a kick out of the fact that their pumpkin carving party was an international event with my dial-in.  By the end of the pumpkin carving party, the lights were turned out, and this was the end result!

And up here in Alaska, my solitary little pumpkin actually did look a lot like a panther....

The kids loved my pumpkin when trick or treating time arrived.  And Halloween was a bit of a treat for me as well.  I think this might become one of my new favorite holidays.

Talkeetna

Talkeetna.  Just rolls off the tongue. If you practice I suppose.  Either way, Talkeetna was the next stop on the list.  This is the first Alaska adventure where I pointed the car north and started driving.  The first place I stopped to pull over was near a town called Willow.  In June of this year, a couple were leaving a cabin they rented, and lit some trash before they left.  People could still learn a lot from Smoky the Bear.  The fire quickly spread to over 7,000 acres, destroyed over 50 homes in the Willow area, and I can't even bear to think of the wildlife.  This is my first view of Willow. 

In fact, 2015 is one of the worst fire years on record for Alaska.  In a typical year, 600,000 acres of forest burn.  To date this year, 5,100,000 acres have burned.  It doesn't take much for the fire to jump roads, rivers and destroy generations in minutes.  I was curious about the trees, some had a distinct orange tone rather than a scorched black tone.  I hope that means they were not killed and may sprout leaves next year.

And of course, there was still beauty.  The palette of blue sky, green grass, black and orange, and purple fireweek.  Notably, another name for the Fireweed which is known to colonize areas after a fire, is Willowherb.  Fireweed makes the Alaska landscape a little more vibrant and beautiful in the summer.  It has a history of being a medicinal herb, and makes its way into tea, jam, jellies, chocolates, syrup, and honey.  I guess there will be a good crop for the local businesses who sell those next year.

A little fireweed up close.  The sad thing about fireweed, is that it seems to only shoe up for the brief summer.  It doesn't bloom until summer, and disappears before you even realize its fall.

The next stop on the road was Talkeeta.  It's a small town, but it pulses with summer tourists, and shines with the eclectic spirit of its residents.  It was actually hard to find a place to park for lunch.  Talkeetna's downtown is a national historic site (to be clear, there are only 879 residents of Talkeenta, so it's pretty much all downtown).  If you are a Cuba Gooding Jr fan, or if you liked Disney's Sled Dogs movie, it was set in Talkeetna.

Talkeetna has made the headlines a couple of times...even CNN.  You see, it's most famous resident is the town mayor.  As I mentioned in a previous blog, Mayor Stubbs happens to be a cat.  In a quirkly little place like this, you can understand how someone would nominate their cat over the other candidates...and even how the cat would get the most votes!  Mayor Stubbs retired from office in 2014 and now spends most of his time napping in the General Store, which is right where I found him.

Mayor Stubbs having a lazy afternoon in Talkeetna

I did eventually find a parking spot -- at the museum.  I was willing to pay the low admission to get a little history AND a parking spot.  In the museum I found a map of the language distribution of Alaska;s native peoples.  I am still a bit fascinated by these languages, as so many places are named after words in these languages.  Aialik.  De'nali.  Words that are in danger of having their meaning lost.  A terrible thought to a bookworm like me.

The museum had some old relics, like this sled.  I believe this was in the mountaineering exhibit.  I can't imagine trekking up a mountain dragging this thing.

And before Obama made it official, even the signs in Alaska tell the visitors that the mountain is known as Denali, meaning "The High One."

Nagley's store is basically the centerpiece of town, and was built by the family who were considered the pioneers of this area.

The energy of the locals artisans is evident everywhere.  I popped into this shop with the decorated moose right before I tried some home-made ice cream made from a creamer powered by an early 1900's John Deere tractor.  The town sits under the gaze of the high one, Denali, and is well worth a stop on your way to Denali National Park...which I have yet to get to.

Finding Hope

It was fitting that I sat down to catch up on the blog and realized I was at this point.  I typed in the title, "Finding Hope," early this morning, started uploading the photos, and then went off to tackle the rest of my day.  I stumbled across a poster that said "Ask yourself if what you are doing today is getting you closer to where you want to be tomorrow."  I had to truthfully say, no.  That was the easy part, answering why is always just a bit more difficult.  I have been working late, staying in, and being a hermit, not because anyone is making me, but because I chose to.  It reminded me of what always used to say in Bermuda..."what are you running away from?"  The running joke was that everyone was there because they were running away from something else, and more often than not, it was true, whether we realized it or not at the time.  I wondered if sometimes once we start running, if it just feels too good to stop.

I took myself on a long walk to think it out.  Walking or running always cleanses my mind and soul a bit.  I realized I haven't been doing enough of any of that.  I have been letting the too energy vampires win.  I haven't given enough time to thinking, feeling, and processing.  Life is cyclical, there are gains, and there are losses.  Above all there must be balance.  And I realized I have lost mine.

Balance is a skill, and like all others, it takes training for it to be effortless.  I did a little of that training today.  I took that walk, I hooked up that BBQ (finally) and cooked a great meal, framed some pictures, and sat down with the blog again.  It's time to get back to the story, and more importantly, to living the story.  And where the story starts again, is finding Hope.

So where does one find Hope in Alaska?  Well, from Anchorage you take the Old Glenn Highway towards Seward.  Past Turnagain Arm, past the Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center, you find a turnoff.  If you are someone who reads the blog regularly, you might remember a winter blog where I mentioned that across the ocean, at the base of a mountain, you could see a couple of white rooftops on an otherwise uninhabited landscape.  They are the remainder of Hope, a once thriving town near a very hot gold mine in the earliest days of the goldrush in Alaska.

Shibby and I set out to find Hope.  It was past a river, past a bridge, on a windy little highway in the middle of a wilderness wonderland.  When we finally made it there, the first building to greet us was the renowned "Discovery Cafe."  Also the first permanent structure we had seen in about an hour.  We pulled in for a tasty lunch on the patio.  The food was good, but I think it's the setting that made it taste so much better.

Hope turned out to be a very very small town, full of hidden treasures!  A block or so past the Cafe is a little museum.  For such a rugged land, Alaska has such delicate little wildflowers.  When they take over metal and steel, it is done with a gracefulness that has a beauty of its own.

Yesterday is clearly gone.  What remains is surprisingly unobtrusive.  Today we leave concrete, steel, and pavement in our wake as we race through time.  The items left behind in Hope seem to have been left by a species with a gentler touch than our own, which seems so improbable given that the life was so much harder in comparison.  Hand crafted wheels, workbenches, and cabins hold an almost tangible sense of the people that once stood with them.

The museum is a collection of three or four buildings, and a bit of an unexpected surprise for the day.

The second surprise was an old fellow in a lawnchair as we drove up, sitting patiently, waiting to see if anyone might drive in that day and want to try their hand at panning for Alaska Gold.  Patient he must be, because in the hour or so we were there, no one else drove by.  I thought it would be hokey, but Shibby wanted to try panning for gold.  So "Goldrush Peck," sold her a $20 bucket of dirt and showed her the ropes.

Now if you notice the watch on Peck's hand in the photo above, you will see that it's pretty unique.  Definitely an original, it seems he does know how to pan for real gold.  The story of Peck is that his grandfather put him to work in a gold mine at the age of ten in Oregon.  Here he shows Shibby how to shake, rake, pick, and slosh your way through dirt.



But low and behold, Peck still knows how to find the gold, because Shibby left with what I am quite sure is more than $20 in gold in today's values!

The next gem we found was this -- the Seaview Cafe, which I have seen in pictures and been looking forward to photographing myself.

There is something about this rusty tin roof on this painstakingly clean white building, with what looks like a hand welded "Cafe" sign that just calls to me.  The photos I have seen did not have so much traffic about -- it seems that a lot of people were in town to do some camping, fishing, or beer drinking at the Seaview Bar.

Since we had just had lunch at the Discovery Cafe, we did not go to the Seaview Cafe.  Shibby got a picture there though, and then we headed along the little walk to the next doorway.

The Seaforth Bar.  The museum told us that this was actually the oldest pub still in operation in Alaska.  The twenty-something year old bartender didn't know if that was true or not.  I prefer to believe the museum staff and say we did stop in for a pint at the oldest pub in Alaska.

We ordered a beer from the Alaska Brewing Company, but they were out.  So we had a King Street, which made me smile, since that is one of the few street names downtown in good old Bermuda.

Hope is a popular destination for bikes it seems.  There were a lot of fancy bikes out front, and a busy, slightly rowdy patio crowd.

I definitely asked for permission before photographing their bikes, and to my surprise they were quite happy to let me admire the bikes.  I was a little afraid of reliving that scene in Smoky and the Bandit, but all went well.

Last look over the shoulder at another favorite little spot in Alaska.  I would definitely book a nearby cabin and spend a summer weekend here with some guests in the future.  Hope.  It's a good place to get to!