North to Alaska
(With apologies to John Wayne)
Summer in Alaska
This is the tale of the first vacation I've taken by means other than boat in ten years. My friend invited me to join her on a trip to Alaska. I'd never been there and could see no reason not to go. So here we are at:
Day 1
Travel is exasperating at best and downright horrible at worst.
We left San Diego at 3:45 on a flight to Seattle. When we were checking in our bags, I noticed that our boarding passes were different from our itinerary.
“Oh, the flight has been changed,” the customer service rep said.
“Don’t you think they should have told us?” my traveling buddy asked.
We now had a six-hour layover in Seattle.
We fumed and boarded the plane.
Fast forward three hours. There was absolutely nothing memorable to tell you about the flight. Now we were deplaning in Seattle. I stopped at the kiosk and asked the rep if there was any plane heading to Fairbanks sooner.
“Oh yes, there’s a flight boarding now at Gate N3.”
“Where’s gate N3.”
“It’s on the other side of the airport. If you run, you might make it.”
So run we did, me loaded down with my computer bag and Buddy dragging a carry-on suitcase. We arrived at gate N3 just as they closed the door to the jetway.
“Can we still get on this plane?” I asked.
“Sure, just show me your boarding passes.”
“You don’t understand. We have tickets for a later flight, but we don’t want to wait six-hours to board.”
So, she took our boarding passes and gave us new ones, opened the door, and wished us a good day by name.
I felt a little bad because I remarked as we boarded the plane in San Diego about how impersonal everything was now a days. “I remember a time when the rep took your boarding pass and said, “Have a good flight, Mr. Wallace.”
Maybe there just friendlier in Seattle than in San Diego.
Oh, there was one small issue. Our bags had already been loaded on our original flight. They wouldn’t arrive in Fairbanks until after 1 am.
We’ll figure it out.
The flight to Alaska was also unnoteworthy except for a couple of things. As we climbed out from Sea-Tac we flew through a heavy cloud cover. We didn’t see the ground again until we were on final for Fairbanks.
The cloud layer below us looked like we could get out and walk on it. There were swirls, mountains, and valleys in the clouds. I read a bunch and took a nap. When I woke up, I looked out the window. There were tiny islands peaking above the clouds. It took me a minute to figure out they were mountain tops. As we sped along, the mountains got taller. Finally, we were flying above a fairy land of rock, snow, and glacier. We could see what looked like rivers descending from the mountain peaks. They were wider than the Columbia.
It dawned on me that these were glaciers. It appeared, from above, that we could actually see the rivers of ice moving down the mountains. We were in the Great White North.
Then there was Buddy. She has no inhibitions and a child-like fascination with the world.
When we got our seats on the earlier flight, we couldn’t sit together. They had window seats on two consecutive rows, so we took them. Early in the flight, an arm reached behind the seat and grabbed my knee. The old man sitting next to me said, jokingly, “Can’t you wait ‘til you get there?
Sometime later, Buddy got up from her seat, turned around and got on her knees to talk to me over the seat. It reminded me of prairie dogging in an office when people pop up over cubicle walls to talk to their neighbors. This continued all the way to Alaska.
As we descended through the clouds, I got my first glimpse of Alaska. It looks remarkably like the North Cascades in Washington. Everything is green with plenty of mountains and wide valleys. It took me a minute to realize I was looking down on hundreds of square miles with no sign of human habitation. No roads, no buildings, no phone or power lines. Nada.
The city of Fairbanks contains 3200 souls. The airport isn’t exactly JFK. The long runway accommodates large planes and miles of taxi ways line the perimeter. First, I saw a couple of WWII era DC3s parked in the grass. Then old Otters. Then an old Convair. These planes were still in use.
We landed in Fairbanks at 9:45. Now we had a problem to contend with. Buddy’s brother was going to pick us up at 1 am. Our bags wouldn’t arrive until 1 am. This is when we first learned about our cell phone problem.
Day 1
Travel is exasperating at best and downright horrible at worst.
We left San Diego at 3:45 on a flight to Seattle. When we were checking in our bags, I noticed that our boarding passes were different from our itinerary.
“Oh, the flight has been changed,” the customer service rep said.
“Don’t you think they should have told us?” my traveling buddy asked.
We now had a six-hour layover in Seattle.
We fumed and boarded the plane.
Fast forward three hours. There was absolutely nothing memorable to tell you about the flight. Now we were deplaning in Seattle. I stopped at the kiosk and asked the rep if there was any plane heading to Fairbanks sooner.
“Oh yes, there’s a flight boarding now at Gate N3.”
“Where’s gate N3.”
“It’s on the other side of the airport. If you run, you might make it.”
So run we did, me loaded down with my computer bag and Buddy dragging a carry-on suitcase. We arrived at gate N3 just as they closed the door to the jetway.
“Can we still get on this plane?” I asked.
“Sure, just show me your boarding passes.”
“You don’t understand. We have tickets for a later flight, but we don’t want to wait six-hours to board.”
So, she took our boarding passes and gave us new ones, opened the door, and wished us a good day by name.
I felt a little bad because I remarked as we boarded the plane in San Diego about how impersonal everything was now a days. “I remember a time when the rep took your boarding pass and said, “Have a good flight, Mr. Wallace.”
Maybe there just friendlier in Seattle than in San Diego.
Oh, there was one small issue. Our bags had already been loaded on our original flight. They wouldn’t arrive in Fairbanks until after 1 am.
We’ll figure it out.
The flight to Alaska was also unnoteworthy except for a couple of things. As we climbed out from Sea-Tac we flew through a heavy cloud cover. We didn’t see the ground again until we were on final for Fairbanks.
The cloud layer below us looked like we could get out and walk on it. There were swirls, mountains, and valleys in the clouds. I read a bunch and took a nap. When I woke up, I looked out the window. There were tiny islands peaking above the clouds. It took me a minute to figure out they were mountain tops. As we sped along, the mountains got taller. Finally, we were flying above a fairy land of rock, snow, and glacier. We could see what looked like rivers descending from the mountain peaks. They were wider than the Columbia.
It dawned on me that these were glaciers. It appeared, from above, that we could actually see the rivers of ice moving down the mountains. We were in the Great White North.
Then there was Buddy. She has no inhibitions and a child-like fascination with the world.
When we got our seats on the earlier flight, we couldn’t sit together. They had window seats on two consecutive rows, so we took them. Early in the flight, an arm reached behind the seat and grabbed my knee. The old man sitting next to me said, jokingly, “Can’t you wait ‘til you get there?
Sometime later, Buddy got up from her seat, turned around and got on her knees to talk to me over the seat. It reminded me of prairie dogging in an office when people pop up over cubicle walls to talk to their neighbors. This continued all the way to Alaska.
As we descended through the clouds, I got my first glimpse of Alaska. It looks remarkably like the North Cascades in Washington. Everything is green with plenty of mountains and wide valleys. It took me a minute to realize I was looking down on hundreds of square miles with no sign of human habitation. No roads, no buildings, no phone or power lines. Nada.
The city of Fairbanks contains 3200 souls. The airport isn’t exactly JFK. The long runway accommodates large planes and miles of taxi ways line the perimeter. First, I saw a couple of WWII era DC3s parked in the grass. Then old Otters. Then an old Convair. These planes were still in use.
We landed in Fairbanks at 9:45. Now we had a problem to contend with. Buddy’s brother was going to pick us up at 1 am. Our bags wouldn’t arrive until 1 am. This is when we first learned about our cell phone problem.
Buddy in front of Chena Hot Springs Lodge
There are large spaces in Alaska that are uninhabited, and many more that are lightly populated. It didn’t make economic sense to put in cell phone towers to allow people in Chena Hot Springs to make calls.
So, we couldn’t contact Steve to let him know we were early.
How would we get to the hotel? (At the time I didn’t know that we weren’t going to a hotel, it was a mountain resort. I thought we were staying in a Motel 6 in the town of Chena Hot Springs. There is no town of Chena Hot Springs.) OK, I’ll try Uber.
I punched our destination in to the Uber app, and to my horror, the ride would cost $175. It was 67 miles to our destination.
I immediately vetoed that idea.
“Well, I guess we’ll have to wait here until Steve picks us up.”
“I texted Stevie, to tell him we arrived early,” my buddy said.
I used the restroom, and when I got back Buddy said, “I just talked to Stevie, he’ll be here in five minutes.”
“What?”
“He decided to drive in early, so he’s almost here.”
There is a God.
Steve arrived and carted us off to our resort destination. We’ll worry about our bags later. Maybe we can go back at 1 am to get them, or maybe we’ll just wait ‘til morning.
It was late and I was hungry. We tried stopping at several fast-food places on the way, buy they were all closed. Finally, Steve stopped at a gas station that had a mini mart. I don’t know why I was disappointed, but at 10 o’clock at night, they had a very limited selection. I finally settled for a burrito that I warmed I the microwave.
I got what I paid for. It was a gut bomb and I got stuff all over my hands and clothes. But at least I had something in my stomach.
We headed down the long and winding road. And on, and on. The road deteriorated from a nice highway to a two-lane country road. Then it got bumpy. Then I felt like I was in the great outback. Finally, the road reduced to a one-lane road, and, after an hour and a half, we were there.
The Chena Hot Springs Resort is really a cool place. There’s a main building that reminded me of the Ponderosa (for you old enough to remember Bonanza).
We were in building two, which looked like a nice ‘70’s motel. Steve and his wife, Darla, were in a small cabin on the other side of the complex. That’s where they exiled people with dogs. Darla and Steve brought Cody, their lab.
It was cool and raining when we arrived. My sweatshirts and jacket were in my bag on the other airplane. My buddy at least had a sweatshirt. It reminded me of the scene in Cool Runnings where the Jamaican bobsled team steps out of the Calgary airport into -20-degree weather. Only I didn’t have any more clothes to put on.
By the time we got to the resort, it was tomorrow. The sun had set but the skies were still light with the twilight. We were so tired and cold it was all we could do to flop into bed.
Thus, ended day one.
That's the first day. I'll post the subsequent days once each week until we get home. I hope you enjoy this little travelogue. Please drop me a line to let me know someone out there is reading it.
So, we couldn’t contact Steve to let him know we were early.
How would we get to the hotel? (At the time I didn’t know that we weren’t going to a hotel, it was a mountain resort. I thought we were staying in a Motel 6 in the town of Chena Hot Springs. There is no town of Chena Hot Springs.) OK, I’ll try Uber.
I punched our destination in to the Uber app, and to my horror, the ride would cost $175. It was 67 miles to our destination.
I immediately vetoed that idea.
“Well, I guess we’ll have to wait here until Steve picks us up.”
“I texted Stevie, to tell him we arrived early,” my buddy said.
I used the restroom, and when I got back Buddy said, “I just talked to Stevie, he’ll be here in five minutes.”
“What?”
“He decided to drive in early, so he’s almost here.”
There is a God.
Steve arrived and carted us off to our resort destination. We’ll worry about our bags later. Maybe we can go back at 1 am to get them, or maybe we’ll just wait ‘til morning.
It was late and I was hungry. We tried stopping at several fast-food places on the way, buy they were all closed. Finally, Steve stopped at a gas station that had a mini mart. I don’t know why I was disappointed, but at 10 o’clock at night, they had a very limited selection. I finally settled for a burrito that I warmed I the microwave.
I got what I paid for. It was a gut bomb and I got stuff all over my hands and clothes. But at least I had something in my stomach.
We headed down the long and winding road. And on, and on. The road deteriorated from a nice highway to a two-lane country road. Then it got bumpy. Then I felt like I was in the great outback. Finally, the road reduced to a one-lane road, and, after an hour and a half, we were there.
The Chena Hot Springs Resort is really a cool place. There’s a main building that reminded me of the Ponderosa (for you old enough to remember Bonanza).
We were in building two, which looked like a nice ‘70’s motel. Steve and his wife, Darla, were in a small cabin on the other side of the complex. That’s where they exiled people with dogs. Darla and Steve brought Cody, their lab.
It was cool and raining when we arrived. My sweatshirts and jacket were in my bag on the other airplane. My buddy at least had a sweatshirt. It reminded me of the scene in Cool Runnings where the Jamaican bobsled team steps out of the Calgary airport into -20-degree weather. Only I didn’t have any more clothes to put on.
By the time we got to the resort, it was tomorrow. The sun had set but the skies were still light with the twilight. We were so tired and cold it was all we could do to flop into bed.
Thus, ended day one.
That's the first day. I'll post the subsequent days once each week until we get home. I hope you enjoy this little travelogue. Please drop me a line to let me know someone out there is reading it.
The dragon at Chena Hot Springs
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