Kelsey with leaf bug, which she located from its "chirping" sound.

©Bert Gildart: “It sounded like a bird chirping,” said Kelsey, one of my wife’s grandchildren and a person whom I always enjoy seeing. “It fell out of a tree right beside me and that’s how I found it.

“I could hardly see it.”

Appropriately, the insect Kelsey was referring to is called a leaf bug and the more we examined it the more interesting it became.

As you can see from the photo, they blend almost perfectly with their surroundings, and in fact, from some angles can’t be distinguished from the real leaves around them. Biologically, they are also interesting for if an individual loose one of its limbs, next time it  molts it will  have a new one.

Because of these various characteristics, and because they are harmless to people, some keep leaf bugs as pets.

PRAYING MANTIS

Though the leaf bug was a new creature to Kelsey (and to me as well) not so the praying mantis (look, it’s praying!), which is spelled with an “a” even though it preys on insects. Kelsey knew exactly where to find the model for my photographs. She also knew it was a desirable creature to have around.

Amazing how creatures evolve with features that serve to protect them from predation, in this case "protective camouflage.

People who garden organically encourage the presence of praying mantis because they help reduce undesirable insects from building up.  Each year they consume large numbers of insects. Likewise other creatures prey on the mantis, most commonly the bat. The mantis, however, has developed a technique for foiling bats.

MANTIS ECOLOCATION?

According to an on-line encyclopedia, mantises, when flying at night, are able to detect bats through echolocation. When their built in radar warns them of an approaching bat, they will stop flying horizontally and begin a descending spiral toward the safety of the ground, often preceded by an aerial loop or spin.

Praying mantis, spelled with an "a" for reasons that seem obvious.

Though the several insects included here can be difficult to photograph the task is simplified with high-powered electronic flash units, which enhance depth of field. (See strobes). Still, you’ve got to have someone with an interest in the outdoors and Kelsey (and the Connelly family in general) certainly do have that. Right now it’s bugs, and Janie and I are learning much more about this fascinating world – and the stories that can be told about them through photography.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Chicken Alaska and Mike Busby’s Pedro Dredge

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©Bert Gildart: We’ve been home for almost a week, but have been so swamped with problems and sad news that we’ve had no time for postings.

For starters, just after backing our Airstream into its protective shed, we opened the slider to facilitate unpacking. No problem – not until I attempted to close it. Half way in I got diverted by a telephone call. When I returned I hit the wrong switch, the one activating the paddle latches, the latches that, when engaged, prevent the slider from bouncing free as one is traveling. Though I’ve made that mistake before, this time it caused the slider to freeze, and no amount of cajoling would close it. That night I closed the slideout by going outside, removing the 10 screws that allow the hinged cover to swing down. Then, I used a wrench to crank (as Airstream directs) the shaft that manually moves the slide in our out.  It’s an emergency procedure, and took about 10 minutes.

On my last posting web designer Tim Van Buren asked if I'd post a low-light image taken during my morning on the lek. Because of the very slow shutter speed, it's a bit fuzzy and is not one I would have shown but for Tim's request. 800 mm lenses amplify the slightest camera motion and that's what happened here. Still, the lighting, as Tim had suspected, was beautiful.

Next day (Monday) I called Airstream and they planted some ideas, but it wasn’t until I shared those ideas with my neighbor (far more sophisticated with electronics than am I) that the problem was resolved. Hutch discovered that in the recess created when the paddle latches are extended that there’s a tiny pin. The pin needs to make contact with another device (which it does when the paddle latches are closed) to complete the circuit. Though the mistake I made is a common one, one I’ve made before as have others, this time my mistake apparently caused a very slight bend in the pen, thus preventing it from making the connection. Once Hutch discovered the problem, the remedy was achieved by bending the pine just slightly, allowing, then,  the circuit to be completed.

TRANSMISSION WOES

The other frustrating news concerns our transmission, which also decided to go out on our return. Dodge makes an excellent diesel engine and is famous for its Cummings brand, but they paired it with a transmission that others have also had trouble with. I was aware of the potential but still, it’s a shock when Dodge repair people say you have three options as follows: One, repair the old transmission for $2,200; two, replace the transmission with a brand new one for $3,000-plus; three, replace the old transmission with a beefed up new transmission for $4,000-plus. We opted for the second option, but only after learning we might have to wait for several months for a beefed-up transmission.

Repair people say that in the future, they’re going to recommend we change transmission oil every 20,000 miles rather than the recommended 30,000. That’s because we use our vehicle for so much towing. They assure us we should get well over 300,000 on our Cummings engine, and hopefully a lot more out of this, our second transmission. Too bad, I told them they had not paired the Cummings with GMC’s Allison transmission, which has reputation as being of the same quality as the Cummings.

SADNESS

Finally, we returned home to discover that one of my older friends, Loren Kreck, had passed away. (Here’s a report from the Missoulian.) He was an icon in the valley. In World War II, he had been a young fighter pilot. Later, he had returned to dental school and then moved to the Flathead were he worked as an orthodontist. He was a member of The Wilderness Society and was active as skier. He was an avid canoeist and spent months traveling wilderness rivers in Canada. He was a senior hockey player as was Charles Schultz (author of Peanuts), whom he once played against.

Yesterday, we attended his memorial service and though sad, we saw many good friends — as Loren would have wanted. Many shared stories, and Doug Chadwick told a story about a month-long camping trip he made to a remote island off the coast of Baja, California. During the trip, Loren was bitten on the thumb by a bark scorpion. Absolutely no help was available so Loren did the only thing he could do. He got into his kayak and paddled with one arm for most of the day, dangling his arm in the salt water, which seem to cleanse.

Like everyone else, we’ll miss Loren, a man with whom Janie and I have cross-country skied and shared many a dinner, enjoying his  stories of adventure and his sense of humor –  good up to the last breath.  (Loren’s last meal was popcorn and a beer. )

On the flip side, the celebration brought together in one setting several hundred people, many of whom we seldom see.  As life-long friend Lou Bruno said, “Seems the only time we see all our friends is at funerals and at weddings. “

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

V-Bar-V Heritage Site

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Retired superintendent Mark Jorgensen explains the phenomenal growth spurt of the agave

©Bert Gildart: This past weekend the Anza-Borrego Foundation provided an all-day excursion to Harper Cabin as its “Hike of the Month”. Since we’ve been here I’ve tried to take in as many of the seminars the park offers, but I particularly wanted to take in this one, specifically because retired superintendent Mark Jorgensen was leading the hike.

Without a doubt Mark knows more about the Anza Borrego Desert than anyone. Before accepting the position as superintendent, he worked as one of the park’s rangers. As well, Mark sat on several prestigious bighorn sheep councils, and that is why I sought him out about 12 years ago. At that time Mark helped me with several chapters in my book about Mountain Monarchs, Bighorn Sheep, and so I wanted to renew acquaintance.

SURPRISE START

The gathering started with a surprise. Since arriving in Anza Borrego I’ve been following Bob Baran’s blog, which is about this state park. Months ago we agreed to provide links to one another’s posts, so it was a wonderful surprise to find that Bob was among the 23 hikers. When the group was all assembled at Tamarask Campground, somehow we both recognized one another immediately. His posting about our trip shows some wonderful images, particularly of the cabin and the area in which the Harper Brothers once lived.

From Tamarask Campground we made the short drive to  Pinyon Wash. We then followed a “jeep” trail for about five miles to the trailhead.  Then we began our hike.

Our destination was the cabin built by the Harper brothers about 1920, where they had discovered a large, gently sloping flat that could be used for grazing cattle. Upon reaching the cabin we learned that little remains of their attempts — other than a multi-level dam and their cabin. The brother’s efforts to retain water with the two dams soon met disaster for sand quickly filled them. Then, their cattle contracted anthrax.

Unfortunately, the anthrax may also have affected the area’s bighorn sheep population. Mark said that because water had been so drastically diverted the park recently installed several water tanks to help the sheep. Under the circumstances, installation of the water tanks was justified.

LITTLE REMAINS

Mark led us directly to the cabin and we discovered that little remained of what had once been a one-room 15- x 12-foot home. Originally, the top and front were made from corrugated iron. Agave stalks supported the roof.

Though it was fascinating to relive the struggles of the Harper Brothers, much of my interests concerned the area’s natural history. Along the way we stopped at an agave plant that had just put on a phenomenal spurt of growth. In a period of but two weeks, the stalk of the agave had soared about 12 feet. Soon, blossoms will cap the stalk, representing the end of a long life, which is why agave is also known as the century plant.

HIKE TO HARPER CANYON THREAD THROUGH NARROW CANYONS; MARK JORGENSEN AND BOB BARAN, THE LATTER OF WHOM I’VE GOTTEN TO KNOW THROUGH THE SHARING OF BLOGS

We also stopped at an ancient Indian village and as we cast around we found morteros, metates and old pottery shards. Mark showed us one of the shards but then returned the tiny piece to the spot from which he had taken it.

HIGHLIGHTS

Though the trip was exceptional, for me the highlight always seems to be the meeting of all the interesting people who invariably sign up for such adventures. All were natural history and history enthusiasts and it was fun to share thoughts.

HIKE ALSO LEAD TO AN INDIAN VILLAGE WHERE WE EXAMINED MORTAROS; ULTIMATELY THE HIKE LEAD TO THE HARPER BROTHERS CABIN.

Once more it was instructive to join Mark. It was fun meeting Bob Baran and sharing  a few thoughts about blogging — all backdropped by the incredible desert provided by Anza Borrego Desert State Park.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

Star Light Star Bright — Night Photography at Organ Pipe

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©Bert Gildart: Over the years of exploring Alaska Janie and I have met a number of people who have managed to forge a life in some of the state’s most unlikely areas. One such settlement is Chicken, and not just anyone could have succeeded here; but forty years ago Mike Busby began generating experiences that would enable him to establish his “Chicken Gold Camp.”

Chicken Gold Camp and Mike Busby's historic Pedro Dredge

Located about 70 miles along the remote Taylor Highway from Tok, Alaska, Janie and I parked our Airstream at his RV park and can now say that we could have spent the summer and not done it all. As it was, we camped a week — panning for gold and enjoying several tours of his Pedro Dredge, which is now on the National Historic Register. We photographed moose, biked and hiked, and we ate Lou’s (Mike’s wife) delicious homemade meals at their “Outpost.”

We listened to stories of how this improbable business came to be – and a little about how Mike Busby “came into the country.”

BACKGROUND OF ADVENTURE

Mike has always loved the outdoors as is apparent from his early background in Colorado. In 1972, after spending a couple years enrolled at CSU, he signed up with National Outdoor Leadership School for a 35 day kayaking trip of Prince William Sound in Alaska.

Probably more moose are "shot" now with a camera than with a gun, but once moose meat was a much needed part of a miner's diet.

In September, he hitched back to Colorado to return to CSU but after one semester left for a NOLS winter mountaineering course in the Wind River Mountains of Wyoming. He stayed on and became an instructor. The following winter, tragedy struck on an attempted ascent of the Grand Teton and a massive snow slide killed three people, one a good friend. Saddened by the deaths, several months later Mike escaped to Alaska, traveling up what was then a rutted, twisty, snow-packed Alcan Highway arriving in Fairbanks at Thanksgiving amidst the Alaska pipeline boom.

Having no interest in living in construction camps, he enrolled at the University of Alaska (we toured it this summer) to continue his studies in anthropology which provided an opportunity to participate in a bowhead whale study in the Eskimo village of Point Hope.

Upon completion of the study, Mike joined two fellow researchers to float the Fortymile and Yukon Rivers from Chicken to Eagle. Upon returning to Fairbanks and the university, he ran into a close friend, Professor Ernie Wolfe, who convinced Mike to accompany him to a placer mine in the Circle District for which he was consulting. The lust for gold and lure of outdoor adventures grabbed hold and he worked in several gold camps from the Brooks Range to the Yukon Territory.

During the winter he would drive back to Colorado to visit family and friends always to return before spring. One cold trip north in December was made in a ragtop Jeep with his sidekick “Kutchin,” a Great Pyranees who provided more windshield frosting than the defroster could keep up with, so most of the trip was made with an ice scraper in gloved hand. In 1978, Mike returned to Colorado, and in December of that year he married Lou.

One month later the couple loaded their possessions in the back of a 1975 Ford truck and trailer and, again, struck out for Alaska along the winter Alcan. This man you might say is either stubborn or he’s determined!

GOING INTO THE COUNTRY

In those days, travel along the Alcan was slow and their timing as he recalled, wasn’t the best. “We hit Tok, Alaska, in February,” recalls Mike, “and that’s often the season’s coldest month. Temperatures dropped to 50 and 60 below but the endless winds made it seem 120 below.”

CLICK TO SEE ENLARGED VERSION AND MORE INFORMATION. L to R: Gary and grandson Josh mined enough gold on Meyers Fork to pay for a year of college; example of month’s take; Gene Gildart shows his yield.

Destination was Homer, Alaska, where he had built a cabin. After settling in for a week, the two newlyweds were off chasing gold stories from one prospector’s cabin to another across the state in search of a possible prospect of their own. “At the time,” said Mike, “we lived in back of a topper – and that was really an experience. Cold, that’s what I remember most, the cold.”

Later that winter, at the instigation of Professor Wolfe (his mining mentor), Mike began work on Willow Creek, which is 30 miles west of Chicken. At times, he hunted, and moose and caribou formed a portion of their diet.

CLICK TO SEE ENLARGED VERSION AND MORE INFORMATION: L to R: From control room, Mike explains how levers function to control buckets and the gross movements of the dredge; old tools of the trade symbolize 75 years of toil; evanescent fire weed contrasts with historic structure that continues to endure the seasons.

Fast forward now a few more years, and with a background of mining and outdoor recreation and the addition of two children, we find that Mike has made several mineral purchases and, then, a little later, launched full scale into his Chicken Creek Gold Camp mining business, which contains several components. For those who want something quick, we found you can pan at stand-up troughs with pay dirt provided from his operation adjoining the RV park.

If you want something more promising, but which requires more effort, visit Myers Fork. That’s what we did and as reported previously, we found a little gold and learned how the area has treated Gene Gildart, a distant relative. As well Mike offers shuttle services for river adventures and if kayaking and canoeing are of interest, this is the man you’ve gotta’ visit.

As Mike says, "The Pedro Dredge is the most complete bucket line dredge in Alaska, and maybe North America." It's on the National Historic Register.

In fact, we’ll be staying in touch with Mike as his adventures on the Forty Mile sound outstanding. Want to catch fish; or watch moose along the banks? Chicken and the surrounding wilderness sound like the perfect place to stake a claim. But just wait ‘till winter when the summer population of hundreds drops to about seven. That’s when you’ll really learn about yourself – and what it takes to come into the country.

PEDRO DREDGE

Most conspicuous of Mike’s investments is his Pedro Dredge, which now helps to recount a significant aspect of Alaska’s gold mining heritage. As Mike says, “It’s the most complete bucket line gold dredge in Alaska and perhaps North America.”

We joined one of Mike’s tours and soon learned the huge old structure was originally owned by the Fairbanks Exploration Company, and shipped to Pedro Creek north of Fairbanks in 1938, where it operated until 1958. The following year it was disassembled, trucked to Chicken over an old dirt road, and then reassembled. Here, two to three men operated the huge 500-ton dredge until October 1967, at which time “it produced its final cleanup.”

For 31 years this “tired old workhorse” sat idle, but in 1998 Mike and his partner bought the Pedro Dredge and moved it to its present location at the Chicken Gold Camp & Outpost, where the dredge was quickly recognized as one of the state’s more significant artifacts from the mining era.  In 2006 Mike held a Grand Opening of the Pedro Dredge and the same year the dredge was listed on the National Register of Historic Places, rounding out some of his major business objectives.

You can access the Chicken Creek Gold Camp from the Taylor Highway from Tok, Alaska, or by departing Dawson City in the Yukon Territory and then driving over the Top of the World Highway. That’s another adventure, one we’ve reported on, and which serves to reinforce the notion that this is a remote part of the world requiring a special type of person to succeed.

Certainly Mike and Lou and their Chicken Gold Camp fill the bill, for they’ve not only come into the country, but they’ve stayed in the country.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Natchez Trace National Parkway

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(Note, we’ve been promoting books penned by other writers; here, then, are some of OUR BOOKS. Buy them from Google and we make a little extra, unless, of course, you buy them directly from us!)

Shelter, plus food and water are required to sustain life.

©Bert Gildart: Long ago in a wildlife management course, I learned that all life has three basic needs. It must have food, water and shelter.

In Canada’s Jasper National Park, for some species, these needs are met, but not without some difficulty.

To acquire the much-needed water bighorn sheep must wade through a maze of traffic, and it is to the credit of the majority of drivers that most of the animals survive.

As we watched, virtually all motorist slowed down, even the huge truckers. In fact, one stopped and moved clear off the road while the herd crossed. That’s probably something you don’t often see.

TRIP’S END

Our fabulous trip to Alaska has ended and though we’re off the Alcan, the drive from Jasper and Banff back to Montana is often one of the most rewarding.

Last year, about three weeks later, we were here when the elk were deep into the rut. Right now, Canadian campgrounds are still filling, but with children back in school, that will soon taper off, leaving only the more dedicated nature lovers.

However, we’re anxious now that we are back home to sort everything out. I have a number of stories I must soon complete for various magazines, and the front end of our Dodge is making a ticking sound, which could well be the U-joints.

Our Airstream seems to have weathered the drive, but we’re anxious to give it a major cleaning. As well, the left hand side of our sofa, which I use in combination with the swing-up table as an office, has lost its elasticity. The local furniture shop says they can replace the springs.

Threading traffic after satisfying need for water, sheep hope to safely return and find cover, one of the other two basic needs needed to sustain life.

In several weeks we’ll also be checking out fall colors in Glacier National Park, pulling our Airstream to the park’s east side. From all reports, this could be a banner year.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*Bay of Fundy — World’s Most Extreme  Tides

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©Bert Gildart: It’s mating season for elk throughout the Rockies, and bull elk are now making their presence known. Several nights ago, while camped at Whistler Campground just outside of the townsite of Jasper, Alberta, Janie looked out the window of our Airstream and saw four cow elk being herded by a royal bull elk (that’s one with six tines).

There were about 10 feet separating our truck from our Airstream and the bull laid back his head and walked between the two. Then he tried to corral the four members of his small harem. Grabbing my camera I opened the door and moved to a positions where I could jump behind a huge tree should the bull come my way. Janie also stepped from the trailer and tried to take several photographs. My best image was one of Janie beneath the awning of the trailer jockeying for position.

Janie attempting to position herself for a photo of bull elk in Jasper National Park.

This is the same campground at which we stayed last year for almost 10 days, gathering many images of elk. The trip was highlighted with a number of experiences which illustrate the fact that many believe seeing elk in Jasper is like seeing elk in a zoo. That, as my images show, is certainly not the case.

NIGHT OF THE GRIZZLY

Several years ago I provided a posting about my involvement in the first two fatal mauling experienced in Glacier National Park (Night of the Grizzly). The posting continues to attract a number of comments, and for some reason, several have chosen this time to add their thoughts. All are interesting and I invite others to leave their thoughts as well. I’ve also posted on other grizzly bear situations, and here’s a link to one that could have resulted in serious consequences( *Training People to Watch Bears).

Last year reporters from Public TV interviewed me (and many others as well) about my involvement in the dual tragedy. I understand production is about to wrap up and that a program about the tragedy will air sometime this spring. Though the maulings occurred in 1967, this year marks the 100 year anniversary of Glacier, so the timing to report on bears in Glacier remains appropriate.

Note: After writing the above, I just figured out why so many are choosing to post comments about my involvement. Bill Schneider, a writer with New West, interviewed producers of an upcoming Montana PBS documentary about the maulings, and provided a link to my site. Here’s a link to his site, and his story about the interview.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Moose & Their Bizarre Feeding Techniques

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(Note: Several have requested links to the book Night of the Grizzly, which I’m now providing as well as links to books on the natural history of bears. These are all excellent works, and I personally know ALL the authors. If you follow my links to Amazon, and then purchase from that link — that really AUGMENTS our travels.)

Steamy and sultry, these girls are exceptional actresses.

©Bert Gildart: The history of Skagway’s Red Onion Saloon is typical of other bordellos that proliferated in the late 1800s, both in Alaska and in the Yukon. Today, though the Red Onion offers a dining facility, it also offers an extraordinarily popular brothel tour. But as the ladies said, “You’ve got to be broad minded.”

Several of the settings reminding me of the Robert Service Ballad, “The Shooting of Dan McGrew,” and so I start this posting with the first stanza of that ballad, essentially because the photographs from my day’s take seem to complement it so well. Some of you may know it. When I was in high school, we got extra points for memorizing the poem:

A Bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the

Malamute Saloon;

The kid that handles the music-box was hitting a jag-time tune;

Back of the bar, in a solo game, sat Dangerous

Dan McGrew,

And watching his luck was his light-o’love, the

lady that’s known as Lou…

Call this lady Klondike Kate, but with that look in her eye, doesn’t she seem to fit the part of Lou?  I thought so.

$5 FOR 15 MINUTES

Once the Red Onion Saloon was a working brothel and tours today recount the history as it was during the late 1890s. The tour is a bargain and costs harken back to the gold rush.  “Five dollars for 15 minutes,” says the Madam, “Just like in the old days.”

Conditions of the time at the brothel are also reported on the back of its menu, and I’ve taken their write-up and included it here. What it lacks is the color of our tour, which was full of innuendo. When I find time, I’ll try and write more about the tour. In the meantime, here’s a mighty fascinating history, illustrated with photographs which I made yesterday. I think these are exceptional images and certainly want to take some credit, but these attractive ladies deserve most as they could be models with their much practiced and professional demeanors. They were humorous and great actresses – to a point.

"A bunch of the boys were whooping it up..." Doesn't this scene fit the classic Robert Service ballad?

The tour for Janie and me was set up by none other than “Buckwheat” Donahue, Skagway’s Executive Director of Tourism and the subject of my last posting. Hastily I want to reiterate that Janie was with me the entire time and helped me with my multiple strobe set up, the only way to create flattering light in harsh situations. And now, from the back of the Red Onion Menu:

BACK OF THE MENU

The Red Onion Saloon, now a National Historic Building, was Skagway’s most exclusive bordello. Built in 1897 with planks cut by Capt. William Moore, the founder of Skagway, the Red Onion Saloon opened for business in 1898, serving alcohol on the first floor while the upper floor satisfied more than the prospector’s thirst. The brothel consisted of ten tiny cubicles, called cribs, each ten foot by ten foot with three exists, one into the hallway and one into each of the adjoining rooms. Each room also had a hole in the floor which connected to the cash register in the bar by means of a copper tube.

Klondike Kate or Pea Hull Annie? Maybe in another life, but today this Red Onion lady provides a most entertaining brothel tour.

In order to keep track of which girls were busy, the bar tender kept ten dolls on the back bar, one for each of the girls in each of the rooms. When a girl was with a customer, her doll was laid on its back. When she sent her money down the tube, the doll was returned to the upright position signaling to the waiting prospectors that she was ready for business. The bartender safeguarded the girl’s earnings, usually $5.00, preferably in gold, while in the crawl space between the floors, loose floorboards had nuggets and private tips.

NOT MUCH SOUND PROOFING

Because the rooms were divided by single planks toe-nailed into the ceiling and floor, not much sound-proofing was provided. To decorate their cribs, the women stretched linen across the rough planks, and then glued wall paper to the cloth. Remnants of the original wall paper still cling to the planks. Some of the girls who worked in Skagway were Birdie Ash, Big Dessie, Popcorn Lil, the Oregon Mare, Babe Davenport, Pea Hull Annie, Kitty Faith, the Belle of Skagway and Klondike Kate.

By the late1899, business began to suffer. Most of the women moved north to Dawson which was closer to the gold fields and had big gambling casinos and dance halls. As the railroad became the center of business for Skagway, numerous buildings were moved closer to the depot.

The Red Onion was moved in 1914 with one horse from Sixth and State Street to its current Broadway location. Unfortunately, the Onion was dragged around the corner backwards and the front and back of the building had to be removed in order to switch them. During World War II the building was used as an army barracks and in subsequent years housed a laundry, bakery, union hall, television station and gift shop. In 1980, Jan Wrentmore purchased a liquor license and opened the building once more as a saloon.

SO THAT’S THE HISTORY as it appears on the back of the Red Onion’s menu, which also provides a portion of the tour’s content. Actually the tour is longer than 15 minutes, and it is probably the town’s most popular tour. Seems like there are thousands off the cruise ships that either want to be “Johns” or “Klondike Kates”. That at any rate is my quickie for the day and will close by saying that both Janie and I highly recommend this “sporting event” for the shear fun derived from a most satisfying presentation, and for an insight into some of America’s very rough and very bawdy times.

It’s the way things were, and it can not be refuted.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO

*Ticonderoga — America’s First Revolutionary War Victory

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©Bert Gildart:  When the chips are down, really down  — that’s when you learn about your friends.

Two days ago, Adam and Sue Maffei and I were seven miles along on our trip to the top of the Chilkoot Pass, when my back went out. Years ago, when I began having lower back problems, doctors provided me with a series of exercises to prevent such occurrences.

Adam and Susan, helping by toting a large portion of my gear.

When I practiced them faithfully, I’d have no problems, but these past few months we’ve been driving, driving, driving, covering assignments for various magazines, and I’ve not complied with doctor’s orders. I believe the combination set me up for the problems I experienced.

LIFE STYLE — NOT A LARK

I also want to say that climbing the Chilkoot was not some lark, rather part of an active lifestyle in which I’ve always engaged. When younger, I worked  in Glacier National Park as a backcountry ranger, and just two years ago, I climbed Mount Rainier.

Sandwiched in between have been literally hundreds of active adventures, most with Janie. Once, she and I hiked for one month across the entire length of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. The outdoors is our life, so circumstances had to be extreme before I’d consider turning back.

CLICK ON EACH IMAGE TO SEE IT LARGER. L to R: Cabin at Canyon City built in the ’60s now being restored; one of 100-plus graves resulting from 1898 avalanche; Adam and Sue along Chilkoot trail; Adam hamming it up at one of many Chilkoot artifacts, in this case a huge boiler.

At any rate, I slipped on a rock and then jerked backward, and something seemed to snap. Pain in my lower back was excruciating, leaving me with little choice other than to examine my alternatives. I could, of course, attempt to continue, hoping the pain from the pinched nerve and the strained muscles would work itself out. I knew that a helicopter rescue from the Chilkoot could run as much as $2,000, so that was also a factor I had to consider.

We had made it to Canyon City, but the  most rugged part of the trip was ahead. From Sheep Camp to the top of the Chilkoot is all boulder strewn, and that meant that the type of foot placement required to eliminate strain on my back would have been difficult. In part, that’s why the Chilkoot has been called the world’s “meanest 33 miles.”

Within the first mile the trail begins to challenge

I wanted Adam and Sue to continue with the hike but they absolutely refused.

“We started this adventure together, and we’ll finish it together!” they said — and were most emphatic about it.

But that resolve didn’t explain how we’d get my gear back out, for there was no way I could reshoulder a 40 pound pack. God bless ‘em, for they said they’d split my load — and that they would not leave me alone.

BUT MY GEAR; WHAT ABOUT MY GEAR?

Splitting most of my gear is exactly what they were about to do, but as it worked out a park service trail crew was working on the restoration of a cabin built by a prison group in the 1960s, and when they heard of my dilemma, Stimee Boggs offered to carry out a portion of my gear on his off day.

Amazing how helpful people can be when the chips are down, even those whom you don’t know.

So the question: Did I want to continue and then find that I just simple could go no further… Once I was laid up for over a week, literally unable to move.

SONGS FOR THE BEARS

We overnighted at Canyon City, but next morning I was no better, and so we started our seven mile return, and once again, the country was anything but easy. I gimped along, using trekking poles for support. Adam and Sue, realizing I was experiencing much discomfort, attempted to divert my attention by singing songs from the Beatles’ Sergeant Peppers Lonely Heart Club Band, and before long I was joining in.

Picture yourself in a boat on a river,
With tangerine trees and marmalade skies.
Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly,
A girl with kaleidoscope eyes.

Lucy in the sky with diamonds,
Lucy in the sky with diamonds…

Ah… Ah…

I was particularly loud with the “Ah, Ah,” and when we passed a number of hikers going in they all laughed when we said that we were trying to warn the bears of our presence.

BEARS A CONCERN

Actually, bears were a concern, for salmon were running adjacent to the trail in the Taiya River and the dying fish were making for easy pickings. As well, we heard that several people had encountered a bear in the fog on top of the Chilkoot Pass. That story had been transmitted all the way down the trail by the “moccasin telegraph,” so bears were much on everyone’s mind.

Obviously our return was successful, else I would not be posting this blog. But climbing the Chilkoot is still much on our minds, and we have resolved to try it again next summer. Stimee told me that two years ago a 72-year-old lady had climbed the trail about as far as we’d gone. Just past Canyon City she broke her leg, but returned last summer and successfully completed the climb. Now there’s inspiration.

But so, too, is the story of the Chilkoot. As scholars remind us, the Chilkoot is one of America’s — and Canada’s — most historic trails. The Chilkoot, they say “changed the history of America.”

Certainly it did that; but it also taught me a little more about humanity and the value of real friends.

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TWO YEARS AGO AT THIS TIME

*Faces From Mount Rainier

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©Bert Gildart:  Anyone have an idea what Robert Service and Jack London shared in common regarding the Yukon Territory and the gold rush of the late 1800s–other, of course, then a marvelous way with words?

Because I’ve been a fan of both men since my teen age years, that’s one answer I can easily provide, but, first, in a highly abbreviated form, here’s my background.

Cabin was home for Robert Service between 1910 and 1912

In high school we got extra points if we memorized The Shooting of Dan McGrew, a Robert Service epic, and I memorized it, and (subsequently) others. Jack London penned such famous novels as White Fang and Call of the Wild. What’s more, when I taught English, I used my favorite short story of all time: To Build a Fire, to illustrate various aspects of good writing.

That’s my resume on the two bards, so, now, the answer:

Both men resided in tiny area cabins and both drew inspiration from the Dawson area for their various works. However, they were here at different times during the gold rush-and were initially drawn for different reasons.

LONDON HIKED THE FAMOUS CHILKOOT

Jack London came because of desperation and arrived like all the other Stampeders. He climbed the Chilkoot Pass (now a national park), then dropped down onto the Yukon, floating by boat to confluence of the Klondike and Yukon rivers, which happens at Dawson City. Here, he mucked for gold, living in a rundown cabin.

Robert Service, on the other hand, arrived as a bank teller, transferred from Whitehorse to Dawson City. Because of the gold being taken out, his employers wanted a youthful man to serve the banking needs of the miners, and they sent this English-born man. As a banker, Service discharged his duties, but found that he was more interested in the stories that were unfolding around him. In these two Yukon settlements he saw a shooting, he heard about cremation and met a man named Sam McGee. He learned about petulance, hooch, fang and claw. He learned about the bands of the aurora, the bitter cold, and the beauty of the towering peaks.

BOTH LIVED IN SMALL CABINS

Because of the ultimate fame of the two men, in Dawson you can now see the cabins of both authors. London’s cabin was discovered along the Klondike, and, using the old lumber, replicated so that it now forms part of a small interpretive center.

About the way it was when poet Robert Service occupied cabin

The Robert Service cabin stands where it has always stood and that is on the outskirts of Dawson. To reach it Janie and I rode our bicycles from our campground down the dirt-covered streets of the small town, arriving in time for a one o’clock presentation. We toured the small cabin, noting the modest accommodations. Then we joined Fred, an interpreter with Parks Canada, who provided a thoroughly entertaining account of the years of Robert Service in the Yukon.

He said that the then-banker began writing down the visual impression he was beginning to form. Before long his work began to assume the form of long poems. Some called them ballads. While working in Whitehorse, he lived with several other bankers. In the evening he’d retire early, but then rise in wee hours to pen his story-poems until it was time to assume daily obligations at the bank.

SERVICE FINDS PUBLISHER

Within the year, Service had assembled an adequate portfolio and he presented it to a publisher in Toronto. The news was good, and soon the poet was making more from his art than he was as a banker. Resigning, he moved into a small cabin in Dawson that has now been preserved as a historic shrine. Here, he declared he would live modestly and write.

We gleaned all this from Fred’s presentation, and the man knew how to hold an audience-and draw them in. He recited several poems, and then asked if anyone had heard of the Ballad of Blasphemous Bill. Others in the audience had boldly revealed their knowledge, so I raised my hand. Fred smiled and began the poem, and obviously, as you’ll soon see, it is one of my favorites-containing words, phrases and stanzas I’ve memorized.

Fred had memorized the entire ballad, and he began:

I took a contract to bury the body of Body of Blasphemous Bill MacKie…

The poem continues explaining what Bill’s partner must do after he dies, and the problems he ultimately encounters. Without missing a beat, Fred continues with his rhythmical and animated recitation.

THE MISSING WORD

… His arms and legs stuck out like pegs, as if they was made of wood. Till at last I said: he’s froze too hard to thaw; he’s obstinate, and he won’t lie straight, so I guess I’ve got to…

And here Fred paused, looked at me, and with a gesture of his hand asked for the missing word-which I gleefully provided… “SAW…”

Fred continued, bringing the poem to an end with words that always turn pathos into humor, a signature event for Robert Service.

… And as I sit and the parson talks, expounding on the Law, I often think of poor old Bill, and how hard he was…  to SAW.

The crowd clapped, Fred bowed, and then summarized his philosophy of Robert Service. “Isn’t that great,” chuckled Fred. “He could laugh at life. And that is what endeared him to so many.”

YUKON WAS ENDLESS SOURCE OF INSPIRATION

As the years went by, both Robert Service and Jack London garnered much acclaim. Service worked from his cabin for several years, finally departing for good in 1912. Eventually he moved to France, married, worked as a war correspondent, drove an ambulance in WWI-and wrote more poems (and even a couple of novels), all of which ultimately made him a very wealthy man. London on the other hand moved to California, worked hard, and though his life ended in tragedy, enjoyed immense success and the good life–at least for a time.

Parks Canada interpreter could recite endlessly from works of Robert Service

And now, even though both moved far from Dawson there is another aspect of their work that can be framed into a question, and that is: what did the two continue to share in common?

The answer, of course, is that they both continued to draw on the Yukon as a source of inspiration for their respective bodies of work. In this manner both succeeded admirably-and to some extent you can relive their glory years by visiting their cabins, located in Dawson, just off the banks of the Yukon and Klondike rivers. The landscape is one both knew intimately, but more significantly, it was one that inspired what are probably their best descriptive works.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*Fort Ticonderoga

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(Note, if you want to learn about Robert Service consider the two books on the left. If you want to learn about the life of a teacher in Chicken, Alaska, you won’t go wrong with Tisha. And of course we use Nikons, usually the D-300):

Highway passes through a land of little trees

Bert Gildart:  The distance between Chicken, Alaska, and Dawson City, Yukon Territory, is about 100 miles, but in that span you travel through some of North America’s most interesting country. You do, that is, if you can make it. At least that is what many told us.

Before departing, some said that if we valued our vehicle and our trailer the 100 miles over the Top of the World Highway could be some of the most devastating in the world.

“The road is chock full of fissures, and is nothing but a washboard-y nightmare.”

“The road travels a precipice,” said another. “The shoulders are soft and if you don’t stay right in the middle, you’re gone.”

DISILLUSIONED AIRSTREAMER

One fellow, pulling a single axle 21-foot Airstream said even more. He said that after completion of the drive he’d had to tighten up all of the nuts and bolts on his belly pan, and all the latches on the inside.

He said he’d broken the fresh-water drain value.

We’d had that problem elsewhere and long ago had asked our local RV shop back in Montana to install a shield. It has worked in Montana and later we discovered, Top of the World.

FOR LARGER VIEW OF IMAGES, CLICK EACH PHOTO

We left Chicken bound for Dawson with trepidation. We departed about 10 that morning–trying before we left one more attempt at panning for gold. We’d become addicted.

SMOKE-FILLED THE AIR

As we drove, smoke filled the air from the 300-plus forest fires burning in the Fairbanks and Denali National Park and it often muted the sun, forcing us to drive slowly because of poor visibility. But smoke or no smoke, driving slowly was not a problem for us, and yet others had told us that if we didn’t hurry, we’d have no problem. “Just take it slow,” they cautioned. “Take it slow!”

Almost immediately the road out of Chicken began to climb and you enter what we call the land of little trees. Because of the height and because of the permafrost, the trees are stunted and often tilted, resulting from so much freezing and thawing. In that respect, they sometimes resembled the road over which we now traveled.

In places we encountered a bit of wash boarding, but found if we maintained our 15 miles an hour rate of travel that there was absolutely none of the chatter you encounter if you increase your speed.

Take it slow. Take it slow! And remember, that the road has hosted several  Airstream travel groups, and they have emerge successfully, but only because they traveled slowly.

WOLF AND MOOSE TRACK

As the road continued, we crossed bridges over beautiful streams and we stopped at several finding moose tracks and what we thought were wolf tracks. A fellow traveler coming toward us said that he had seen a wolf earlier in the morning. We saw several families who had set themselves up for a week of serious gold mining. We found several beautiful campgrounds and stopped at one for lunch.

Sometimes the road ascended, then dropped, but about mile 30 the road climbed above timber line, and here, the road proceed along a crest with shear drop offs. Several other RVs were traveling our direction and we stopped to let them pass. Another time, a maintenance worker slowed us, leaned out the window and said there was a large dump truck coming our direction and that we might want to wait at the first wide spot we found. “No problem,” we said, thanking the man.

Three hours after departing Chicken, we stopped to explore a cabin and some other trapping and mining artifacts. Then, a few miles later, we came to the border crossing, meaning we’d traveled about 40 miles.

REMOTE CROSSING

Certainly this must be the most remote crossing in North America, and was represented by several small buildings. A friendly uniformed lady greeted us and then asked the usual questions. Did we have aboard any drugs or liquor? “How about firearms? No? OK, then you can proceed,”  she said, adding a wave.

FOR LARGER VIEW OF IMAGES, CLICK EACH PICTURE INDIVIDUALLY

Most every one we had talked to back in Chicken said that the Canadian side of the drive was the best, and that seemed true. At times we increased our speed to 40 and even 50 miles an hour. Still, there were places we slowed to 20. We stopped often to admire the scenery.

About 4 in the afternoon, we began a steep descent that soon took us to the banks of the Yukon River. There is no other way to get across other than by a small ferry, which is free and is operated by the government of Yukon. As we waited we saw an old stern-wheel paddle boat, plying the river as in days of old. It was a tour boat, but that was OK, for it set the scene for a chapter of some of the world’s most interesting and far-reaching American and Canadian history (something we’ll be learning more about in Skagway, Alaska).

Soon the ferry approached our side of the bank, angling against the power of the Yukon to keep the boat aligned with the bank so that the one RV and several vehicles could more easily disembark. Cautiously, we then drove from the dirt road and onto the boat, following precisely the directions of two Han Gwich’in Indian men. We were the only ones aboard and our 50-foot long truck and trailer combination fit with room to spare.

CITY HOME TO FAMOUS AUTHORS

About 10 minutes later, we drove off the ferry and into Dawson City. Once Jack London and Robert Service lived here and the town back dropped settings that later helped make both famous. Today the town is home to several thousand residents, and offers several campgrounds.

We drove the dirt streets of the town and pulled into one of the campgrounds, anxious to look over our trailer and truck. We soon learned that other than lots of dust, everything was in the same shape as when we departed Chicken.

We concluded that the difficulties were far overstated, at least for those who are willing to slow down. All totaled, our trip of about 100 miles took us about seven hours, including our many breaks. Sure, there’s another way to this historic gold mining town of Dawson City, but it’s about 800 miles longer. What’s more, if you don’t follow the Top of the World Highway, you’ll miss some of North America’s most interesting and beautiful scenery.

Travel slowly and we recommend Top of the World to most anyone.

NOTE: Strangely, we can post blogs but we have been unable to use our cell phone from either Chicken or Dawson. Even more strange is the fact that we can receive email but can not SEND email. Hopefully, we’ll be able to do so  from Whitehorse, and should be there by August 7th, Janie’s birthday!

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*Kayaking To Wreck of Francisco Morazan

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©Bert Gildart: Several nights ago, Janie and I found what we consider to be the perfect campground. For us, essentially that is one that does not have people stacked one on top of the other; and here in Alaska, traveling the Alcan, if isolation is your desire, you can often find it.

Along the Alcan, you can find camping that is far from the maddening crowd

We found this site in the flood plain of a river not too far south of Delta Junction. Certainly we weren’t the first to use it, as you’ll notice if examine my associated photo. In it, you’ll see several fire rings. More conspicuous, however, are the features that make this little spot so desirable, and that is the Alaska Range which backdrops our Airstream. Not quite as visible are the abundant flowers —  the crimson-colored fireweed, the yellow potentella, and the white crown of the lace-fringed yarrow.

WHAT THE PHOTO DOES NOT SHOW

And, of course, the photo does not convey the sounds, which come from the nearby river, which is generating the clunk of rolling rocks as they pound one against the other. These sounds draw us to the banks of this much braided river, and as we walk we find the tracks of a fox or a coyote, but little else.  Obviously, we are much drawn by history and natural history, and this little site provided its commentaries.

But it was also satisfying for another reason, for we did not have the highly intrusive sounds created by what has become my nemesis, and that is the incessant yipping and yapping of the little dogs – left unattended (sometimes for hours) by their thoughtless owners.

To say that we thoroughly enjoyed the campsite is an understatement.

We’re now in Chicken, Alaska.  We accessed a road just south of Tok, picking up what is called the Taylor Highway. We were here about six weeks ago, but only for a few hours. At the time we dwelled on the more frivolous aspects of the settlement, which is what most people do when they stop but for a few hours, and we were certainly no exception.

But there is a more substantial side to this cluster of cabins, and thoughts gleaned from our stay here are the ones we’ll be sharing in our next few travel blogs.

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TWO YEARS AGO AT THIS TIME

*Mount Rainier

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Moose along Alcan, chowing down

©Bert Gildart: What do moose eat? Well, they eat fire weed, and lots of it.

That’s something we learned today while driving the Alcan Highway, for we have left Fairbanks, and are heading south, but not quite leaving Alaska. In fact, we’re heading back to Chicken, then we’ll be traveling over the Top of the World Highway, where we’ll stop about 100 miles later for a night or two in Dawson City. Dawson recalls the times Robert Service spent having preserved his cabin. Here, he penned such famous poems as the Cremation of Sam McGee. It also preserves the memory of Jack London with a cabin and we hope to see the former homes of both.

After a night or two in Dawson, we’ll be heading back to Whitehorse, but just briefly. About August 8 we should be pulling into Skagway, Alaska, and, there, we’ll make ready to climb the famous Chilkoot Pass. We’ll be joined by Adam and Sue Maffei, another Airstream couple whose company we enjoy immensely.

COURTEOUS OBSERVERS

In the meantime, we have a fairly long way to go, and right now the wildlife along the ALCAN is keeping us mighty occupied. This guy was grazing along the road near Delta Junction, which is about 100 miles south of Fairbanks. He didn’t seem to mind the cars, just so long as no one got out, which no one did. Most people here seem to understand wildlife and what it takes enjoy observing it.

That enabled us to learn a little something about feeding habits here in Alaska, which really isn’t that much different from Alces alces in Montana, i.e., they love fireweed.

Proof that moose love fireweed.

Note: Not sure what our Internet capabilities will be in Chicken or in Dawson City, so there may be a lag or two after this posting before I can blog again.

AS THE EARTH TURNS: Sunrise and sunset in Fairbanks will be 4:40 and 11:16 respectively.

THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Glacier National Park’s Moose Valley

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©Bert Gildart: “Step through the door as quickly as possible,” directed our guide. “Every time we open the door we loose eight degrees of heat.”

We had entered the Aurora Ice Palace located in the Chena Hot Springs Resort, about 55 miles from Fairbanks, Alaska. Temperatures inside the Palace were a cool 20ºF while outside they hovered around 80.

Heroic size ice carvings depicting jousting.

Quickly we donned heavy parkas, then we entered a room full of heroic sized ice carvings. Renowned ice artist Heather Brice was at work adding to her creations, which now include the life-size carving of two gladiators jousting with lances; a polar bear; a series of ice goblets, among others.

NO IMPORTED ELECTRICITY

“These carvings will last for years,” said our guide. “And they’re all preserved by starting with thermal energy.” Continuing he said that Chena doesn’t have access to outside electricity, and that virtually everything in the complex to include the quest rooms, dinning rooms… a green house in which vegetables are raised, are all derived from geothermal power. “That,” he said, “includes the Ice Palace.”

From an earlier tour of the complex that day with Cherie Johnson, we knew a little about what he was referring to, for she had introduced us to the technology that enabled all this to work. In theory, it’s fairly simply, though the elaborate machinery would lead you to believe differently.

CLICK ON ABOVE IMAGES TO SEE ENLARGMENTS. L to R: Hot spring; Exterior of Aurora Ice Palace; Airstream, Ice Palace and artifacts from minning era.

Bernie Karl, owner of the complex, has taken hot water from the earth and used it to generate power in an ingenious manner. Because the water that feeds the hot springs that first began attracting visitors was only 163 ºF, he used it in another way. He found another substance with a lower boiling point, and used heat from the water to create steam from the other substance used to turn the fins of a generator. The process is certainly more involved but because he has taken his process so far and is now generating energy that may soon be completely independent of fossil fuels, he’s getting lots of attention.

NATIVE VILLAGES COULD BENEFIT

Electrical energy in Alaska is expensive, but hundreds of remote Native Villages could benefit from his technology. He offers links that detail his setup, to include the additional technology now used to power all aspects of his entire center, which includes the demanding requirements of the Aurora Ice Palace.
Though the entire complex is impressive, what was most dramatic to me was, in fact, the ice museum.

Interior of Aurora Ice Palace

The carvings are all impressive and to capture images I used a tripod and exposures of five to 10 seconds, depending on the light in that particular area. Our tour lasted about half an hour and, then, because we had walked from such a warm environment to such a cold environment, we followed up our ice tour with a long soak in the hot springs. We sampled them all, to include the outdoor natural springs (see above series of photos) as well as several hot ones located in a protected enclosure.

JAPANESE LOVE CHENA & ITS WINTER  AUROA

Interestingly, the most popular time to visit Chena is winter, something Janie and I have done in years past. The complex is ideally located for viewing northern lights. Because the Japanese believe that children conceived while the Aurora blaze overhead will be particularly healthy, they flock here in the winter… They love Chena.

AS THE EARTH MOVES:

Tonight sunset at Fairbanks will be 11:28, sunrise, 4: 25.

THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*Fort Union, An Outpost on the Missouri River

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Cora "Umara Nupowhotuk" creates work of art that reflect her traditional ancestory.

©Bert Gildart: Cora “Umara Nupowhotuk” is originally from St. Lawrence Island and, today, she makes Caribou Masks that tell of the traditional past.

John Koweluk and Molly Hunt from Katlik make exquisitely beaded moccasins while Kenneth Frank of Arctic Village is an artist with the drums.

Because Alaska is such a huge state, many of these native arts and crafts remain unique to the culture and obscured from a more public viewing. But at the World Eskimo Indian Olympics (WEIO) held each year for four days in Fairbanks, Alaska, in July, artists arrive prepared to display and explain production. And, of course, WEIO provides a good setting in which you can make purchases, some that will last a life.

Cora “Umara Nupowhotuk” (see last photo from  July 20 post) is one of the more distant representatives of Native  art, having been reared on St. Lawrence Island, located some 40 miles off the Siberian coast. She says her mother and grandmother instructed her in the art of skin sewing. She says her work has been worn on the summit of Denali, the Antarctic and has been displayed in the Smithsonian.

Umara’s work represents the faces of traditional Siberian Yupik people. Her son harvests the caribou, she then molds the faces over one of the cedar faces she has carved. Later, she adds tattoos, representing an adornment that was once a custom among woman of her culture. She says that there are several elderly women from her village and that they have facial tattoos “similar, she says, “to those shown on my masks.

TRADITIONALLY, WOMEN ALL WORE FACIAL TATTOOS

Umara’s masks depict both men and women, though the ones of woman seemed more appealing to Janie and me. All were adorned with customary tattoos and beads, and some of the patterns she’s created represent waves, life lines, northern lights, fern leaves among others.

Men wore no facial tattoos, but they did have marks above their eye brows. “If a woman was barren her husband was allowed to take a second wife,” said Umara. “If he did, the eye brow marks tell that story.”

CLICK ON IMAGE TO SEE ENLARGED PHOTO. L TO R: MOCCASINS, DRUM GROUP, SUSAN HOPE, KUUGMIUT DRUM AND DANCE GROUP

Mary and Francis Kakoona of Shishmaref live equally as far away. Their village is about 80 miles north of Nome, which is in the Berring Sea, and has the tragic distinction of being located on a small island that is rapidly diminishing because of global warming. “We’ll have to relocate,” says Francis, “and we’re very sad because of our history there.”

LIFE-LIKE CREATIONS

Francis hunts for seals and walruses just off the island and it is from these animals that he extracts materials for his work. “I shape the ivory,” he says, “so that it takes on a life.”

All in all about 30 artists displayed their work at WEIO, and all was of excellent quality. We would have photographed more but we had to coordinate the times we asked questions and made photographs between lulls in the Olympic competitions and, of course, during times when artists were free from sales.

Kimberly Dullen (Miss WEIO 2008) crowns Alanna Gibson, the new Miss WEIO

Sometimes, of course, I simply photographed individuals engaged in activities that I thought projected talent. These include Susan Hope with her father’s ship made of baleen, Kenneth Frank joining a group that simply wish to be known as Soaring Eagle, drummers from Anaktuvuk Pass, and, finally, and certainly not to be excluded, the lovely Kimberly Dullen crowning the equally as lovely Alanna Gibson of Minto, the new Miss WEIO.

These young ladies are artists themselves, and do more than stand and project beauty. As well, several are talented craftpersons themselves, one of the abilities on which judges decide just who will be a Miss WEIO.

Though the contest ended this past Saturday night, I may post a few other photographs.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO:

*Theodore Roosevelt National Park

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Trimble Gilbert and two sons, Bobby and Gregory create beautiful sounds at the Morris Thompson Culture/Visitor Center

©Bert Gildart: Trimble Gilbert, one of Alaska’s most prominent fiddle players, is currently appearing several nights a week at the Morris Thompson Culture and Visitor Center in downtown Fairbanks. Trimble, a former chief of Arctic Village and currently Second Traditional Chief of the entire Athabascan community, remembers that he first picked up a fiddle in 1952, and since that time, has been in demand throughout the entire Gwich’in community.

Joy Huntington in her upcoming news letter for the Culture/Visitor Center writes that Trimble has taught us how music and dancing can heal our communities by injecting everyone with positive energy.

“If people in the community are not getting along,” writes Joy, quoting Trimble, “they forget their problems during the community dances.”

Janie and I first met Trimble in 1991, and one of our favorite memories was listening to him in his church (he is also the Episcopal minister in Arctic) and once allowed us to record him and his congregation singing Amazing Grace in their Gwich’in language.

MOST IMPROVED

Several days ago we attended one of Trimble’s performances during which time he played Red River Jig, Handkerchief Dance, Duck Dance and finally, the Two Step Dance.  Trimble’s sons Gregory and Bobby joined him and together they put on quite a performance.

When I first met Trimble he advised me to learn to jig and in subsequent Christmas cards reminded me that I should work on my dancing. “I think you’re getting there,” he’d always joke. “Not easy; keep working.”

The group’s last song for the evening was the Two Step and as a part of the audience, I was asked to dance. Trimble watched and later said I’d come a long way. “You should get the award for most improved.”

At first I was complemented, then realized my skills may, in fact, have needed the most improvement. Those thoughts were reinforced as I watched Gregory move his feet in response to the lively music.

Gregory Gilbert and partner Ashley Charlie demonstrate various Athabascan dances

Regardless, it was wonderful to hear Trimble and watch his family perform. All are excellent musicians and if you’re in the country, your time would be well spent if you check out one of his performances, and others, too, now being offered at the Morris Thompson Culture Center.

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THIS TIME LAST YEAR:

*Glacier’s Highline Trail

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"Volt," the rehabilitated bald eagle must now face other challenges

©Bert Gildart: Though the last day of the Powwow in Fairbanks, Alaska, was highlighted by the drama of releasing a rehabilitated bald eagle back into the wild, for us it was equally as exciting to see people whom we once knew well from so many different Native villages. Before the day was over, we saw friends with whom we’d enjoyed many exotic adventures. With them we’d watched the spectacle of northern lights streaming overhead; enjoyed the warmth of a stove fire as outside temperatures had dipped to -50ºF… been awed when a herd of caribou had run rampant along a dusty village road.

Still, it was the Powwow and all of its excitement that had brought us together and there is no question, ceremonies began with a real attention getter. “Volt,” a young bald eagle, had flown into a high-powered line and had been laid wide open, but careful medical attention had restored the bird to good health. Because of Native spirituality, it was thought the local Fairbanks Indian group would be the appropriate organization to release Volt–and we all watched eagerly to see if the eagle would react as hoped.

AN EAGLE’S FALTERING STEP

Volt had been kept in a cage, and when the door opened, the bird took a faltering leap, but then, on strong wings it powered its way to the top of a nearby tree. Upon landing, the local drummers beat out their approval–and the crowd cheered. Ravens and gulls, however, sensing a dangerous intrusion began dive bombing the young bald eagle. Again, we wondered what might happen.

For a few moments, it appeared as though its antagonists might rule the day, driving the bird off its tenuous perch. The eagle hunkered down, but then it reared up, as though trying to seize one of its antagonists in its deadly talons. Before long, the ravens and gulls departed, leaving the young eagle to other concerns.

FRIENDSHIPS DEVELOP

I had been watching the release with Kenneth Frank of Arctic Village. Janie and I knew his family would also be there, but didn’t know so many of our other acquaintances would attend.

(L to R: Me on the far right; dance ceremonies throughout day; eagle head dress; Kenneth and daughter Crystal, a most accomplished family. For larger image, click each photo)

That afternoon we saw friends from Old Crow, Venetie, Steven’s Village, and even Rampart-villages located along interior river systems of Canada and Alaska. In part because of our interest in wildlife, in hunting and fishing, we had cherished our years with them in the ‘90s as teachers–and later as journalists. But as the years went by, we developed strong friendships because of shared empathies and mutual respect. Now we were together attending a ceremony that was loaded with lots of exciting activities.

After the release of the eagle, dance ceremonies began, and the MC encouraged all to participate. “Come on now, you don’t have to be an FBI (full-blooded Indian Kenneth told us) to participate. Look at that pretty lady (pointing to Janie); we want to her dance.”

GOOD SIGN

Before the day was over, both Janie and I attempted various dances, then later, Kenneth twisted my arm hard enough so I joined him and about 25 others in a game of musical chairs. Donations were requested for all the groups (children, women, and finally men) and though the crowd was generous with the other groups, it was a bit stingy on the men. We topped out at $145, which was nothing to sneeze at, though it was a mute point for me, as I was one of the first to be put out.

Drummers help dramatize the eagle's successful return to the wild.

All too soon the day ended. Our friends said they’d be attending the World Eskimo Indian Olympics held every year in Fairbanks in mid July, and we said we would be too. As we departed Volt lifted from its perch on the top of a tall spruce and flew to a more distant branch.

“Good sign,” said one of our friends. “I think we’ll see you real soon!”

“Yes,” we agreed. “Very good sign!”

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TWO YEARS AGO ABOUT THIS TIME:

*Global Warming in Glacier National Park

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©Bert Gildart: It doesn’t take 2 ½ weeks to drive from Bigfork, Montana, to the official end of the Alaskan Highway (we once made it in 3 ½ days) at Delta Junction, but that’s the amount of time we took. Part of every trip is a photo outing. As well, we’ve been trying to gather material for various stories, so we dallied.

We know each of the 28 species of mosquitoes in Alaska is huge, and this cast at Delta Junction is an exact replica. Honest!

Though most people drive on to Fairbanks, Delta Junction is where the U.S. Army officially ceased its construction. The first time we passed through this small town was in 1991, right after we married, and we both recall having met a young man at the Delta Visitor Center who had cycled all the way from South America. That memory has stuck with us.

DAYLIGHT ROUND THE CLOCK

A few minutes ago, we started to call relatives living on the East Coast. Here at 8 p.m. it is completely light and so for a second or two, we forgot that although it may seem early, their time it is, in fact, midnight. Though we are not quite to the Arctic Circle (that’s just a little beyond Fairbanks), still, we have 24 hours of daylight, and almost 24 hours of COMPLETE SUNLIGHT. But not quite.

Fireweed is associated with disturbed areas, such as fire, and fireweed in Alaska grows in so many places, in this case on route to Chicken, AK.

Here, the sun dips below the horizon for several hours leaving us with what is known as Civil Twilight. That’s enough light (my definition) to read a book outside without straining your eyes.

Officially, the sun will set at 12: 21 and will rise at 3:28. Today, in New York, sunrise is 5:32; sunset 8:29.

To refresh, the Arctic Circle is that imaginary line that circles the earth and represents that point at which the sun completely dips below the horizon; and one day when the sun never rises above the horizon. Those events occur on the first day of summer and the first day of winter.

As one travels above that imaginary line, the extremes become greater and greater. At Arctic Village (several hundred miles above the Arctic Circle), where we spent a number of summers, teaching — and later gathering material for stories and a children’s book — the sun circled high in the sky for weeks on end, never touching the horizon.

ONWARD TO FAIRBANKS

Tomorrow, unless something diverts us, we’ll travel the last 100 miles to Fairbanks. Knock on wood we’ve sustained no damage to our Airstream, though we did talk to one Airstream owner who had trouble with rocks hitting the petcock draining water from his reserve water-holding tank.

I had the same problem with an earlier Airstream and called the factory and recommended they add a tiny shield to future Airstreams. Apparently they haven’t done so, though I had one installed on both our first Airstream and on our current one.

We’ve had no problems since.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Holy S—, When no Other Worlds Suffice

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©Bert Gildart:  The Alaska Highway is a 1,597-mile-long two-lane highway that stretches from Dawson Creek to Fairbanks. Much of the area through which it passes remains similar to the wilderness Canadians and the U.S. Army plowed through in 1942, taking 11 months to complete the monumental project of creating a road. Through primitive by today’s standards, the “highway” was deemed necessary after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. Military experts were concerned the Japanese might invade Canada, the Aleutians and other parts of Alaska–and they needed a way to move troops. Today, that “wild road” now helps recall a frontier type of life that was at times raw, and sometimes very lonely–as suggested by the legacy of one man, which now attracts visitors from all over the world.

When Janie and I first drove the highway in 1991, the road was twisty and curvy, but to honor the 50-year anniversary of the Alcan (Alaska-Canada Highway) much money was spent shortly after our first adventure to convert the old road into a more modern day one. Today, we believe the surface is good enough for Airstream owners to pull their trailers–and to enjoy one of the greatest adventures still remaining to RV travelers.

Travel slowly and you'll see more wildlife, such as the Stone Sheep, one of the four species of North American wild sheep.

Yes, you’ll have to travel slowly because of periodic frost heaving, but that will only allow you to see more wildlife–and enjoy the wild beauty the several provinces, and finally the state of Alaska, provides.

MOVABLE FEAST

What you do as you travel this historic route will vary according to your interests. Our itinerary calls for stops in Whitehorse, Denali and finally Skagway–to hike the historic Chilkoot Pass. As well, we also plan to see our many Gwich’in Indian friends in Fairbanks; and while in Fairbanks, I have obligations to magazines and will be covering the World Eskimo Indian Olympics in mid July. But our time is here and now-and it is the many things seen along the way that make this trip worth the while, for there’s a history of wildlife and a legacy of characters. In fact, the entire trip could be called a “movable feast.”

Highlights of our trip have been many and as time goes by we may find enough Internet Cafés and campgrounds with Wireless connectivity to detail more of the exciting features we’ve enjoyed. In the meantime, I believe Janie and I would agree that our stop at Liard Hot Springs ranks high. So, too, do the sightings of all the wildlife (bears) and the Stone sheep-and this latter for a very good reason.

Throughout North America there are four different species of mountain sheep (Dall, Bighorn, Desert Bighorn) and the Stone Sheep is another. (I described the species in my book published by NorthWord on Mountain Monarchs.)

LEGACY OF CHARACTERS

But we’re also interested in the history of the Alcan and in some of the characters who left their marks. At this juncture in our journey the Sign Post Forest in Watson Lake, Yukon Territory, fits that bill.

Sign Forest, growing daily and now containing over 55,000 signs posted from all over the world. Started in 1942 by a lonely G.I. who was working on the AK Highway.

The Signpost Forest dates back to 1942 when Carl Lindley, a homesick G.I. from Illinois was working on damaged signposts. Thinking perhaps of his sweetheart back home, he erected a marker showing the distance to his hometown in Illinois. For some inexplicable reason, the posting caught hold and today, the “forest” includes over 55,000 signs that come from all over the world.

Next stop may be Whitehorse, for the lady at the Visitor Center said it was an “easy” 5 to 6 hour drive.  But we’ll have to see about that, for we’ve discovered most travel much faster than we do, and typically to cover the 280 miles she’s described, will take us a day and a half. We’re slow, and to see all the sights–to meet all the characters from the present-and past!–we believe that’s the way to travel the Alcan.

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THIS TIME TWO YEARS AGO:

*Knife River is Archaeologist’s Dream

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©Bert Gildart:  At first Janie and I both thought we were seeing another black bear, but as we pulled our truck and Airstream onto the side of the Alaskan Highway, we both changed our mind.

“That could be a small grizzly,” Janie said. And I had to agree, despite the fact I thought it unusual for a grizzly to be near the side of a road. And although the Alaska Highway is remote, it still sees a fair number of cars, trucks–and even Airstreams–most every day.

Is it a a black bear or a grizzly bear?

Not more than an hour ago, we had left Liard Hot Springs in British Columbia to continue our journey to Fairbanks and the surrounding area. For several reasons, bears were very much on our minds–and so were ways to differentiate g-bears from black bears. We’d also been thinking about bears because one of their preferred food items was so abundant–something I well knew.

Years ago I had worked in Glacier National Park hired as an assistant biologist in the ennobling position as a scatologist. For three months I had gathered bear poop and then, later, in the park service lab, worked to identify the fecal material. The material was exactly like what Janie and I had been seeing the past few days at Liard Hot Springs. It was cow parsnip, but this was different.

TROPICAL OASIS

Because of the hot springs Liard was once referred to as a “tropic-like oasis.” Because of the warmth, cow parsnip is not only profuse in Liard, but it grows exceptionally high; and that may be one of the reasons we have seen so many bears in this area. In spring, it’s one of their favorite items of food.

Cow parsnip, a favorite food of blacks and grizzly bears alike is profuse and grows exceptionally tall at Liard Hot Springs.

So far, this trip has been as much about bears as anything else. Five years ago when Janie and I drove the Alaska Highway, we saw very little wildlife, but this year we have seen bison, stone sheep, caribou, black bears and now we both believed, we were seeing a grizzly bear.

The reason we were not decided is because of the bear’s youth. This must be a very young bear, perhaps a two-year old; one that may have just recently been booted from the family. Most sows, after all, are again ready to deliver a new crop of young, and young from several years ago must go.

Though it’s hard to say with any certainty, this bear probably weighed just a little over 200 pounds, and that made it difficult to determine at first whether it was a g-bear or a black bear, particularly when it was not turned sideway. Even then, the hump was not very prominent, but because of the dished-in face and what we think is the beginning of a hump, we’re calling it a young grizzly bear.

Anyone have any thoughts?

NEWS NOTES: We’re traveling the Alaskan Highway trying to post blogs when we have access to the Internet. Tonight we do for the first time in almost a week. We’ve seen much and will try and catch up when we’re parked for awhile. Meanwhile, the service we’ve paid good money for (telephone service in Canada) is not working, and we’re wondering why? As a result, we can’t call out on our Verizon phone. We thought we were paying for our service to link with the towers most used in Canada. Maybe when we get to Whitehorse our service will work; right now we’re in Watson Lake, Yukon Territory.

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THIS TIME THREE YEARS AGO

*Top Ten National Parks For RVers

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Not sure whether to go up--or come down

©Bert Gildart:  “Bears,” Janie said. “Black bears, and just look at those adorable little cubs. Three of ‘em!”

We were in Jasper National Park driving the tiny potholed road to Cavell Glacier (which we drove last fall), when Janie made her discovery. The bears were on a small wooded hill, out in the open, and they were all playing-though that’s not the way it appeared. First one would run over to a tree and assume a position that implied “climb.” Suddenly, another bolted over and attempted to pull it down. Several times it succeeded, then, on the ground they’d nip and snap, but without the force and anger needed to inflict real pain. These little guys were having a ball!

But what got us both was the size, and then we realized they probably had not been out of hibernation too long, and we recalled as well that all bears have a most usual method of fertilization.

DELAYED IMPLANTATION

Mating takes place in late summer, but sows store and delay final implantation of the sperm until their bodies are in a reproductive condition, which occurs in the fall.  Growth of the embryo then occurs, but there’s not much time before they’re born. As a result, when the cubs are born, usually in February, they weigh little more than a pound.

When we saw them just a day or so ago, none appeared to weigh more than 15 to 20 pounds. Little wonder cubs remain with the sow until they are almost two years old.

Unlike grizzly bears, black bears are excellent climbers, and as we watched the sow suddenly let out a grunt and all three scurried up trees, two in one. Seconds later several motorcycles roared up the road, and that’s apparently what had alerted the sow. When the cyclist passed the cubs descended and again we watched them and photographed them.

Though I’ve often seen black bears (and grizzly bears, for that matter), never have I seen a black bear with her cubs for such an extended period. What was particularly interesting is that one of the cubs was brown in color while the other two were black.

TRYING TO OBSCURE OUR INTENTIONS

We continued to watch and photograph them for well over an hour. Each time we’d hear a car approach, we’d turn as though we were removing something from the car. As well, I’d scurry with my tripod mounted lens to the far side of our truck.

Bear Cubs "battle," but it's all in fun.

From experience we both know that many people start yelling and screaming when they see bears, and that type of behavior certainly doesn’t benefit our cause.

Though Janie and I are not sure why the bears tolerated our presence for so long, we hope it was not because they had been fed. Generally when that happens bears loose all fear of people and begin showing up in campgrounds. Jasper National Park officials are working hard to prevent that occurrence and all of their campgrounds are designated “Bare Proof Campgrounds,” meaning they are barren of food when campers are absent. If not offending items are confiscated, campers may be issued a citation and in some cases, asked to leave.

Mamma looking on over three cubs

We worked with extremely long Nikon lenses (400 to 800mm) and are delighted for the rare opportunity that presented itself while in Jasper National Park. This park never fails as we learned last fall.

NEWS NOTES: We have no connectivity so our postings are being made from Internet Café’s-when we can find them. At the moment I’m in LouLou’s Pizzeria in Jasper, Alberta.

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SEVERAL YEARS AGO AT THIS TIME

*Never A Bad Day At Logan Pass

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