The Journey Home Begins

We headed out of Fairbanks with a new travel schedule. Now we were driving a lot at night in search of the Northern Lights for the first few days. We enjoyed seeing them again and again for two-three nights.

One of our first daytime photo stops was for a little flow of water in a roadside ditch that had some cool ice formations.

 

 

I get confused along the journey home. We drive so many miles per day, that when I get home I can't remember where things were. I can remember what the area looked like but have little idea of where it's located in relation to other places along the road. The Fisherman remembers it all. He's made the trip over a dozen times, going one direction or the other.  He remembered a beautiful rest stop and pulled in to show me. As we walked down the path through the woods, suddenly the trees opened up to reveal a river.

 

A beautiful scene.

We climbed down the bank and walked next to the water. As is my habit, I was looking down a lot as I walked. I found this weird little hole with frost all around it.

How did that happen? Why only that hole and not the other one with the rock partially moved? Funny.

Just in front of my little frozen hole was this staircase made of tree roots. How cool is that?

I climbed the stairs and we hit the road again.

This has become one of my favorite places to stop along the way home.

It's easy to see why these guys are called Stone Sheep. Like all mountain sheep and goats, they hang out in the rocks and they seem perfectly camouflaged among the grey stones of their domain.

We watched this herd come down from the mountain and into the grassy area beside the road.

This, I know, was in Canada.

It was my best and closest look at these creatures and for the first time I noticed the coloration on their legs. The fronts of their legs are dark and the backs are white. Interesting.

A baby! Baby animals are always so darn cute.

Sheep butts.

And off they go! Right down the middle of the road.

When we first stopped for the couple of sheep coming down from the mountain, up ahead of us around a curve we heard the horn blast of a big semi. We knew what that meant: sheep in the road. We waited around, eating some lunch, for the rest of the herd to come along. They joined up with the other ones and eventually moved on past, right down the middle of the road again.

The eased their way to the wide shoulder of the road and kept on a-going.

The Pipeline and Back to Fairbanks

We were thrilled with our experience of the Northern Lights and being able to get photos of them. We stayed up all night in freezing temperatures getting photos. Whenever they faded away, we'd drive some more, making our way back south. Eventually, we drove back into the tall forests and could no longer see them.

At the beginning of the journey "north of north" we were driving in two vehicles. We first thought we would follow in our van all the way to the Yukon River. The road was so terrible we decided to stop at a nice big pull-out and park the van. We were worried about leaving it vulnerable and alone in such a desolate area but concern over the wear and risk to our tires, following behind in our leader's dust and trying to keep up with them, all won out and we parked it.  We were in a hurry to gather our stuff for an all day-and-night trip but managed to transfer vehicles and be on our way.

When we arrived back at our van after in the morning, it was about 5:30 a.m. A trucker was parked in the pull-out with his engine running; he was evidently sleeping. The Fisherman took some more photos of the sky while I started to transfer all our junk back into the van. As I sat in the driver's seat, turning the engine on and starting the heater, I looked out the passenger window. My goodness that window's clean, I thought. Until I realized that we had left it completely down all day and all night! We'd been worried about it's vulnerability, left there alone at a desolate pull-out, and here we'd left the window completely down. Oh, it was locked - good for us. Surveying the contents, we were very relieved to see nothing missing or even disturbed. Clothes, generator, shotgun, laptop, all the photo flash cards of The Fisherman's summer picture-taking - they'd all been left vulnerable for over 18 hours in the middle of nowhere where cars pass by regularly albeit infrequently. We could have been cleaned out and no one would have ever witnessed it.

I won't mention whose window was left down.

While The Fisherman took more pictures, I crawled in back. I was freezing cold. I was wearing three layers of clothing and got under six blankets. We slept till about 9:00 a.m. When we got up, I noticed this sign across the road from us. After driving all day and all night on the famously rugged Dalton Highway, I thought it worthy of a photo.

Road Damage? Really?

And note the special message that some Hawaiian traveler wrote in the dust of the sign.

We then hit the road back to Fairbanks.  We'd seen the Pipeline all along our drive north.

 

We stopped at the Alaska Pipeline exhibit just outside Fairbanks. They've set up a few displays and an information house at one point along the oil pipeline.

Sometimes the Pipeline crosses the road overhead but mostly it crossed underground.

 To improve the flow of oil in the Pipeline they send these things called "pigs" into it. There was a nice display set up to explain it.

There was a nice photo-opp mileage sign we had to take advantage of. Problem was, the sun was so bright I couldn't even look into it. 

Nice squint there, Judi. I think we need to take another one.

Now I'm crying, the sun is so bright.

Ahhh, that's better. I could actually smile in this one.

Here is a sculpture model of the Pipeline's path across the state of Alaska. See our van in the parking lot?

I really wanted a picture of me standing under the Pipeline showing the whole deal. So, here we go again with the sun.

There's that lovely squint again. Once more.

Crying again.

There we go! That's better.

We spent the day in Fairbanks, just looking around. We went to Pioneer Park and were disappointed to find it closed. Not entirely closed, though. We could go in and walk around, but all the gift shops and museums were closed for the season. It looks like a great place.  We also found a spot on the Chena River where The Fisherman just had to throw in a line and try to catch his first Arctic Char. 

He got one.

Hail the conquering fishing guide!



The Heavens Declare the Glory of God

You remember from yesterday's post that we drove on the Dalton Highway to the Brooks Range and the North Slope, stopping at Mile 270 to turn around at 8:00 p.m. We headed back south as it grew dark hoping to see the Northern Lights, or Aurora Borealis. We'd heard they had been very active recently and they were the whole reason for this trip. We were not disappointed.

Just north of the Arctic Circle, around 1:00 a.m. they showed up. They are an amazing sight. With such a light show I almost expect some kind of noise to accompany them. But there was nothing but silence. It was awe-inspiring. They started out as just a vague greenish hue above the horizon. We stopped on the road, and the photographers took out the cameras and tripods and ran tests for camera settings.

The living lights grew and stretched across the sky. Soon, they began to move to a different location in the sky. When they did, they began to form streamers and to swirl and dance. Oh my!

It was breathtaking. What a marvelous first experience of the Northern Lights.

 

After awhile, they seemed to fade and disappear. We got back in the truck to drive until we saw them again. Each time we saw a hint of them we found a piece of road that had a good view and stopped again.

The sky was full of stars, too. The Fisherman set his camera exposure so he could capture both the Aurora and the Milky Way in one photo. Absolutely spectacular!

As the chase, and the night, went on, the magnificent display changed over and over again. Eventually I wimped out (more like, soon I wimped out) and watched the Lights from bundled up inside the truck. The Fisherman, however, stayed outside virtually all night long in 29 degree weather. That's why he's the "real" photographer and I'm only the dabbler.

At one point, the lights stretched above the horizon in a perfect gentle arc. All the way across the sky, this arc seemed to be a dome above the earth. As we stood there at the top of the earth, The Fisherman was especially moved with an inner glimpse of the earth and heavens from afar and he marvelled at God's immensity and was stunned by His glory. 

"The heavens are telling of the glory of God,

 and their expanse is declaring the work of His hands"

(Psalm 19:1)

As night gave up a sliver of horizon to the coming dawn, we were excited to see The Fisherman's photos show both the dancing green lights and a hint of the coming sunrise.

For by Him all things were created both in the heavens and on earth, visible and invisible... (Colossians 1:16)

...all things have been created by Him and for Him. And He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together. (Colossians 1:6-17)

I know there is a scientific explanation for the Aurora Borealis, something to do with the earth's magnetic field and solar flares on the sun. But you know, I think I'd rather not fully understand it - whether it's fully understandable at all. Sometimes, knowing the intricate explanation enhances the awe and sometimes it just competes with it.

 

For right now, I don't think I even want to grasp the details of how they occur. If you could take the whole subject of understanding the Aurora and project it into a single moment of viewing them, my thoughts on not wanting or caring to know the specifics would be like saying in the moment, "Shhh! I just want to stand in awe. Don't talk; I just want to absorb the thrill of witnessing this magnificence."

Our God is an AWESOME God!

The heavens are declaring the glory of  God, and their expanse is declaring the work of His hands. (Psalm 19:1)

Humor North of North

I was just looking at my Alaska journal and found I'd recorded some funny things along the way of our trip north of north. For instance, here's what I wrote as we drove along the Dalton Highway:

"In Denali Park last night I looked up at the clock in the truck and it said 11:11 p.m.  This morning driving through Fairbanks I glanced to the side of the road and saw a large digital clock at a business and it said 11:11. Driving on the Dalton Highway, I just looked to the side of the road and happened to see a Mile Marker. It said: Mile 111."

What's up with me and 1's?
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Pardon my language on this next one, but it's too funny. On a sharp downhill curve on the Dalton Highway we passed a sign naming it "Oh Shit Corner."
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We passed Jim River 1, Jim River 2, and Jim River 3. I wonder who Jim is. Lucky guy has three rivers named after him.
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We also passed a sign identifying another river as the "West Fork of the North Fork - Chandalar River"
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I just had to share those things.

North of North

So, we had our spectacular day in Denali Park, thanks to the generous invitation of some photographer acquaintances. I forgot yesterday to post a photo of us at Reflection Lake.

Our awesome photo adventure didn't stop in Denali. Our friends were headed north of Fairbanks - indeed, north of the Arctic Circle - in hopes of seeing the Aurora Borealis. They invited us to join them for another day in pursuit of some amazing sites.

About an hour or so north of  Fairbanks we hit the Dalton Highway. It's dirt. As we raced along at breakneck speeds (or so it seemed from the back seat) we stopped whenever any of us wanted to take photos. Our fast driving hostess was gracious in that whenever she passed a roadside outhouse, she tapped the breaks and asked, "Outhouse anyone?" With all the "I'm goods", she'd accelerate again and we'd continue careening down the road. Time was running short for the day. It was a long drive, especially with stops for photos and outhouses.

The landscape changes drastically from Fairbanks on up to "The North Slope". The Slope, as it's called, is exactly that. As you travel farther north you cross the Brooks Range. From there, the terrain slopes downward toward Prudhoe Bay and the Arctic Ocean. The Slope is where the oil comes from. There are several pumping stations up there. In the summer, I don't think it's so bad but during the winters, it's brutal. Men and women often work a two- weeks-on/two-weeks-off schedule and the pay is very desirable. Each station seemed to have it's own landing strip and helicopter pad. Some long-time employees even live in the Lower 48 and fly up every couple weeks for their stints, courtesy of the company they work for.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

We came across a couple of female moose while we were still in the grassy and wooded part of the state. The sun was so beautiful it was a photographer's dream.


 

As we watched them munching the lush grass, they watched us.

We took several pictures before this lanky gal turned and revealed that she was sporting a tracking collar. Looks rather uncomfortable to me.

But don't you love that crazy dangly thing on her neck?

I'm sure that has a name but I'm sure I don't know it.

The sun was bright and shadows deep.

Reflections always catch our eye and stopping at this scene was a must.

The best photo I took of this scene is the one below. Unfortunately, I didn't see The Fisherman at lower left in my view finder. If he'd been hunkered down he might not be noticeable, but I got him right as he was standing up. Oops!

A slight pivot to the right and there was another gorgeous mountain reflected in the quiet river.

I was really pleased to be on our extended adventure. There are places The Fisherman has been in Alaska that I've never seen. I never thought I'd get north of Denali Park, at least not for a long time. One of things I really wanted to do was cross into the ARCTIC CIRCLE. And here we are:

Another thing I wanted to see was COLDFOOT.

Now, here's an insight into who I am: Coldfoot is nothing.

And I knew it.

Still, I wanted to see it.

Why?

Well, because it's The Northern Most Truck Stop in the country, of course. And because I read a book about a famous Alaskan who built it up from even-more-nothing back in the early 1980s. At that time, they even operated out of some tents. Now it has it's own post office.

Because Coldfoot is a truck stop, there's a huge expanse of dirt parking lot running between the main building and the other side where there are some bunk houses. I don't know if they're still rented out. On the bunkhouse side is this Welcome sign  explaining where you are and that Coldfoot began as a gold mining community around the turn of the century (the turn of the last century).

OK, are you ready to see "Coldfoot"?



Here it is, in all of it's nothing-ness:

Ta-daa.  Coldfoot. This is a restaurant. There's a separate dining area for truckers, a small gift shop, a buffet area and another dining room for non-truckers. I think there's also showers and some sort of  rec room/lounge for truckers. (But I may be confusing the farthest north truckstop in the nation with the BEST truckstops in the nation, Flying J's who have great facilities for truckers and definitely have a truckers lounge.)

Here's the other side across the truck-stopping expanse of dirt with the bunkhouses in back.

That's about all there is to Coldfoot. You've seen it all. 

Ahh, but I've actually BEEN there, don't you know.

One of the things that caught my eye inside was this log post behind the cash register counter.

It's a message board. I love it. Have a message for Kenny the trucker? Just write it out and tack it up to the post. He'll get it the next time he pulls in for a bite to eat and some company. It is, after all, the last truck stop before Prudhoe Bay. He'll show up.

The book I read is called One Second to Glory, about Dick Mackey and written by Lew Freedman. Mackey's a former and famous Iditarod musher who was on the ground floor of getting the Last Great Race established in 1973. His famous win came in 1978 (his 6th Iditarod) when he ran beside his team down Front Street toward the finish line. Amazingly enough, the 1100 mile race, that took over two weeks to complete, came down to a foot race between 1st and 2nd place. Dick Mackey's dog team crossed the finish line literally one second ahead of Rick Swenson's. Controversy swirled for a few moments as Swenson moved his team and himself across the finish line, whereas only Mackey's team had crossed. For the first time the question arose as to whether it was the musher or the team that had to cross. Finally, with a now famous line in Iditarod history, the Race Marshall declared, "They don't take pictures of the horse's ass, do they?"  That settled it. 

Later on, Mackey saw the opportunity to build up Coldfoot into a successful business that would also be of tremendous benefit to the truckers. One of the things I read about was a record temperature differential one year at Coldfoot. When we were there I saw the weather worn sign commemorating it.

It's illegible now, but here's a photo from the book when Mackey went back to visit Coldfoot.  It describes that on January 26th it reached -82 F and that the record high for the summer was +97 F.

That's a 179 degree temperature spread within one year. That's just crazy!

From Coldfoot we drove north to The Slope. How far north we drove was determined by the time. We drove till about 8:00 pm when the light had grown grey with dusk. We found an excellent pull-out just past a pumping station and got out for a stretch. This was the farthest north I have ever been -- Mile 270 of  the Dalton Highway -- and being that I collect rocks and all, I decided to find a cool rock to commemorate this landmark event in my life.

The Fisherman took my picture to commemorate the commemoration.

See my pretty rock?

Not really, huh? Too bad because it's cool. It's very pale grey with a white quartzite (or something) stripe in it. There are lots of grey and white rocks like this in Alaska, but I had never seen one this pale. They're usually dark grey, so this one was special. Of course, it had to be a two pounder.

We stopped at Coldfoot again on the way back from the North Slope.
 By then it was dark.

See the trucks? It really is a truck stop. What a job that must be, driving a big rig all the way to the Arctic Ocean!

So, now I've been to Fairbanks, the Dalton Highway, the Arctic Circle, Coldfoot, the Brooks Range, and the North Slope. 

And....... seen the Northern Lights. Don't miss tomorrow's post. I'll be putting up some of the great Aurora shots The Fisherman got.