Last Days and Long Drives

Before we headed off on our way out of Alaska, we had to fit in one last trip on the Kenai River!  We went out with Ed O'Connor with Advantage Angling (nice plug, eh?), and we had a great time! The river was brisk in the wee hours of the morning, but we fought our way to our 3 Silver Salmon.

 We decided that on the way out, we would take a little detour to Seward and take another Glacier Wildlife Cruise.  The waves were the choppiest I've ever had and I felt more seasick than I had ever felt on one of these cruises, but we had a spectacular display of calving and wildlife viewing!  We saw/heard/felt a huge chunk of ice fall and saw a large amount of sea wildlife including a very spirited humpback that kept slapping his tail for us!

 It wasn't long before Dad, Rowdy, Pat and I left our home state of 7 years behind.  I am often asked if I was sad, but I can honestly say that I have loved it all but am ready for the next adventure!  This is the scene I had for most of the trip:

 We chose a lovely spot at Teslin Lake to have our plans adjusted a bit.  When we got out at the camp spot, I heard a hissing sound.  This is not a pleasant noise to behold when partaking of a long journey by automobile.  Sure enough, we found the tire and the hole in said tire from which the air was emanating.  Fortunately, there happened to be help nearby, and the gentleman who fixed our tire, for not a small price, advised us to rethink our trailer situation as he felt one of the axles on the large trailer was bent and would not make the rest of our trip as we were.  After assessing the situation and processing this bit of bad news, we did remove approximately 500lbs. from the large trailer and stacked it on the small one.  As you can see above, the small trailer had previously been the deck for Pat and my small tent, but it ended up being an upgrade for us as we were "forced" to use our large tent which held our foam sleeping pads much more easily.

 We made the stop in Watson Lake to the Sign Post Forest.  This is truly a sight to behold.  It began in 1942 by a serviceman who put up a sign to mark how far away his hometown was.  I believe there are over 55,000 signs there today.  We had put one up on our trip 7 years ago and we spent a bit of time trying to find it again.  We recognized certain signs that were markers to us before and that gave us hope.  After a long search, we began to give up and true to movie-magic, I saw it!

 We had been looking for a much more silver coffee-can lid, and laughed at ourselves for not realizing it would be rusty!  We decided to add our next stage onto the "sign" and hope we see it again someday.

 You know things are getting exciting when you begin to see the Bison on the road!  This is a clear indication you are nearing Liard Hot Springs!  It was a heavenly place years ago, and we made it a point to stop here again.  On a little side note, we ate very well on our trip.  I had just a little bit of Halibut left in the freezer, so we took it along and at this fabulous location took it out to make my famous Halibut Parmesan.  It is really delicious, and super simple to make which is a good thing on a camping trip.  I would have liked to smile more, but I was fighting a cold sore that had threatened to take away all my fun.  I won.

 Pat jumped right in to the hot side of the pool and Dad followed.  I, however, am not one to follow the crowd, so I went down to the "cool" 100*F side and tried to ease myself into the warmth.  I must admit that the warmer temperatures on this trip made this stop a bit less refreshing than our late September trip of yore, but it still felt very good despite the sulfur smells.  I did enjoy the massage feeling of sitting beneath the hot falls and did eventually head into the hot side of the pools.  I didn't last long in the super heat and with all the light-headed strength we could muster, we took a short walk to see some of the falls that the minerals create.  I'm pretty sure that this walk was when I became a buffet table to the mosquitoes in the area.  I looked like I had chicken pox for several days after.

We have recently lamented the lack of pictures of our camping spots.  We aren't sure if anyone else cares, but posterity should have demanded it.  Posterity needs to make its voice a bit louder.  We had a lovely spot in Alberta, not too far south of Calgary, that had we not stopped and asked a local walker (who was super nice and helpful) we would have never seen it.  It was a park in the middle of this little town called High River and it was really lovely.  It was where we heard and saw our first real thunderstorm in 7 years!  It was so fabulous and we were so giddy that our camping neighbors just had to laugh!  They were super nice, too!

We made it into the States with little fanfare.  There was a long line of cars and we went through all the paperwork for our firearms and animal trophies.  It was beginning to get really hot.  I was glad to have another detour arrive that took us into Yellowstone!  Dad nor I had ever been there, and it was a really lovely day of driving and hiking to various sights.

 Our lunches were typically sandwiches or salads eaten on the tailgate of the truck.  Pretty simple fare, but I enjoyed it!

 This particular waterfall is a bit of a famous one of Yellowstone, and Pat remembered it from his childhood.  It had a strange green streak that runs down the left side of it, and we spent some time considering reasons for its existence.  This was in part to help us recover from the almost 400 steps it took to get down to the viewing deck and to prepare to walk back up.  It was a beautiful place to take in.

 Did I mention how friendly Pat was?  Just look at him stepping in to get that perfect shot for those three.  What a guy.

 Yellowstone would not be complete without "Buffalo Pictures!"  Let me explain.  Many years ago, when I was but a small child, an uncle and aunt of mine took their 4 children on a summer vacation to Yellowstone.  They came home with a plethora of pictures to share, and like the supportive family members we all were, we gathered around the projection unit to watch their vacation slideshow.  To say they had many pictures of the Bison would be a gross understatement and thus began our family tradition of calling multiple pictures of one subject, "Buffalo Pictures."  So, to continue, I have a few of my own.  This particular fellow came strolling by, a mere two feet or less from our truck.  Dad could have reached out and pet him.  He opted for a Buffalo Picture.

 We did stop at a couple of the thermal sites and saw the colorful algae that grow in the pools.  I was fascinated at the moonscape with steam popping out of many random places and the other gasses bubbling out which created a strange soundtrack.

 The wildlife here was easy to spot: look for the mass of cars stopped on the road.  We were shooed out of one elk spotting area by the wildlife troopers, but were able to capture this bull elk just walking right beside us.  Pat later let him cross the road right in front of him.  It seemed there just wasn't enough room for the both of them; the elk and the bison that is.  This bison walked right past my window as we were leaving the elk.  I wasn't close enough to pet him, which was just fine with me.

 And yes, we saw Old Faithful.  As Murphy would have it, we arrived at the site just after it had blown, so we hoofed it back to our rigs and had an early supper before coming back to the crowds to watch.  It was pretty fascinating to realize the regularity of such an occurrence and I wondered that God would make something like this.   

 On the way out we saw a pair of deer munching in the woods.  Can you see this one?  We had a staring contest.  I don't know who won as my contacts glazed over and I couldn't see anything.

 As we were driving away from the Grand Tetons of Jackson Hole, we began to lose the big mountain feel.  As the land began to change into dryer, less treed ground we thought we'd seen our last really scenic views, but Wyoming was really quite surprising and gave us some lovely desert red to awe.

 The antelope were plentiful in Wyoming and we began to try to out-spot Pat, but to no avail.  His game eyes were on and though we were two, we could barely keep up.

Finally, after 10 days of driving we were welcomed back by family in Wichita!  It was a warm welcome in many ways, and it was good to be back.

A Sunny Day!

Sunday afternoon Mom, Dad, Melissa and I went canoeing on the Swan Lake canoe trails. The weather was awesome and the loons were swimming about. When we neared the stream that feeds the lake we heard voices coming down the stream toward us. As the canoe floated into the lake, I recognized the paddler at the stern of the canoe as my friend Sean "Sully" Sullivan. He and a friend were paddling Sully's first moose out and they were very exited!! I cast my lure into the water as I asked Sully about the hunt. He and his friend had paddled/portaged five lakes back and shot the moose earlier in the day. As we spoke about the hunt, a huge silver salmon struck my lure. I played the fish on my ultra-light rod as we talked. As we parted company, Sully handed me a large hunk of backstrap, some foil, and some black pepper. On the next lake, Dad caught two nice rainbow trout and we headed for the nearest camp site. Melissa started a fire and we cleaned the fish. After wrapping the seasoned fish in the foil and putting them in the fire, we cut the moose meat into chunks and roasted the chunks marshmellow style using green alder branches. Talk about "Surf and Turt"!for dessert we ate fresh raspberries that we picked along the trail.




We arrived home at about nine after watching a beautiful sunset, it was a hilight of the summer for me!

Wet Adventure!

WILD ALASKA!!!!
A life long dream came true for me this weekend. For years I have dreamed of a trip down a back-country river fishing trip with my dad. Thursday noon dad and I put my canoe in on the upper stretch of the Swanson River. The river was swollen from the recent rain and not a mile into the 24 mile float we tipped the canoe over spilling all our gear into the creak. The "dry" bags our clothes were in leaked and all of our stuff was wet except for our bedding. One of the pictures is of our gear scattered about drying in the sun. That night a terrible wind blew up and gusted at about 40 mph. We had a head wind the next day for a portion of the float. Our spirits were high even though the rain came down for most of the day. The salmon fishing picked up as we made the turn to the northwest signaling the half way point, silver salmon fresh from the ocean were attacking our light tackle and putting on a good show with their signature acrobatic leaps and flips that they are known for. At times the salmon were coming up river in such numbers that it looked like the whole river was moving up stream. It reminded me of the movie "Jaws". Dad managed to land a few six and eight pounders on six pound line using an ultra-light rod. We were glad to have my handmade landing net to help bring the flopping salmon aboard the canoe. At 2:00 in the afternoon we were ready to get out of the rain and have some lunch. We stretched a tarp over a rope and managed to get a fire started. Next we wrapped some seasoned salmon fillets in foil and placed them in the fire. The delicious salmon flesh was washed down with hot coffee and were ready for more fishing.
I was continually amazed at my dad's positive attitude even through all the hardships we were facing. As I go about camp chores and woodsmanship in general I am begining to realize just how much I learned about the outdoors from my father. He is in my mind a true woodsman and I can't wait to spend more time in the woods with him now that he is retired!
As we reached the point in the river that indicates the last hour of paddling, the rain picked up and the wind whipped the surface of the river into a torrent of ripples and waves that made the water impossible to read. We tied all of our gear into the canoe and prepared ourselves for what lay ahead. The last half mile of the river, before it dissapears into Cook Inlet, is known for it's rough white-water sections. It was this stretch of river that had kept me up the night before. Would we roll the canoe with our heavy load? Would the recent rain make this stretch impassable?
My heart raced as I guided our craft through the first rough stretch. It wasn't pretty but we came out down stream intact and ready for the next challenge. I assumed a knealing position in the bottom of the canoe to lower our center of gravity and give me more leverage with the paddle. We dodged most of the "sleapers" (rocks that lay just beneath the surface) and powered over the few that were unavoidable. Just when we begin to relax and enjoy the rush, the sign indicating the take out came into view and we paddled our boat to the take out point.
I traveled over 200 miles by canoe this summer alone, but this 24 miles of the Swanson river will hold a special place in my heart forever. Thanks Dad for being so tough and making my dream come true. I love you!
Pat