7/16/14
Aboard Alaska 158, En route ANC-OTZ
We made it! It wasn’t easy, and
it wasn’t pretty, but we made it! First
they were called Mole Runs, then they were called Munich Runs, but I suppose
the new name has to be Kotzebue Runs.
Nothing could ever compare to this epic race from Coldfoot to Ted Stevens. I suppose the only reason that it might not
be considered quite as epic as the original Munich Run was that I was only
behind the wheel for about an hour of it.
6 hours in a tow truck, 4.5 hours with Sokol driving, a shuttle to the
airport, and then racing through the airport.
From the time we left Coldfoot to the time we got on the plane was 12
hours, but the other 11 hours don’t really count. I slept sporadically on the plane, constantly
calculating what time we would arrive in Fairbanks. We arrived right at midnight. I figured we could do the drive in 5 hours if
we punched it. It somehow took us half
an hour to transfer stuff from the Jeep to our new Dodge pickup. It was a big puppy
I told Sokol to punch it once we got out of
town, knowing that we needed to maintain an average of 72 mph to get to
Anchorage by 5:30 PM. I wanted to allow
time for gas and plenty of time to get to the airport, along with Dutch
Time. Sokol really punched it, and we were
making great time. Then, we hit the construction. We had to wait for a pilot car. That whole process set us back 20
minutes. We did not have 20 minutes to
spare, and Sokol made it up by driving over 90 for most the time, even breaking
100 at some points. I went back to
sleep.
Sokol had said that we probably
shouldn’t smoke in this car. It was bad
enough that we couldn’t clean the Jeep, which was filthy inside and out and
smelled like cigars, the last cigar I had being the Cuesta Ray that I had
before the incident with the mud Monday night.
I have had no desire to smoke since then. I agreed with him. All of my clothes were filthy, and I had
changed in the parking lot, but my shoes were still filthy and wet, which I
knew would be disastrous for my limited sock supply. We stopped for gas when there was a quarter
of a tank left. Needless to say, I spent
every waking moment vigorously calculating our expected arrival time. It was better to sleep. Sokol prays and makes statements that express
desires. I calculate and make statements
that express facts. Him telling me,
“Don’t worry. We’ll make it.” Is a lot
less comforting to me than my brain telling me, “If we average 80 mph, we’ll be
at Go North at 5:30 AM.” I like
facts. I’m rational.
After we gassed up, which was outrageously
expensive, having used over 24 gallons to go 290 miles. I didn’t care. I just cared about making the flight to
Kotzebue. I told Sokol we now needed to
average 80 mph. He really punched it,
breaking 110. I saw some lights up
ahead, and he slowed down. It was a cop
car pulling someone over. Sokol rightly
commented that if we hadn’t stopped for gas, he would have been in cuffs in the
back of a cop car. I didn’t disagree. He was starting to get tired, so I finished
changing into my suit and took the wheel.
I had never driven a pickup before.
It was quite a different experience.
We were starting to hit traffic and towns at this point, so it was a
much more technically difficult drive, especially to do at the maximum safe
speed. I kept calculating. I then saw the turnoff for the Seward
highway, the one we had missed on the way to Seward. I took it, only to get off at the wrong
exit. “Fuck!” I exclaimed. Fortunately, we just went a little too far,
and it only set us back a couple of minutes.
Right at 6 AM, we were at the Go North place.
We ditched the car, forgetting to turn off
the headlights. I didn’t care. We raced across to the hotel where we would
leave our bags and catch the shuttle.
Would we have enough time? I
figured that we would need to be at the gate by 6:50 AM, meaning we needed to
be at the airport by 6:30 AM. We should
be fine. The shuttle driver was very
understanding, and we got to the airport right at 6:20 AM. We printed our boarding passes, and I asked
an agent when the boarding cutoff time was?
2 minutes. Can you do anything to
help us? We have our boarding
passes. Run to your gate, then. And, run, we did. We breezed through security and sprinted to
the gate. I had changed back into my
sneakers, and it seems that whatever healing the boot did to my foot was undone
by that run. The gate agent saw us
running. Are you on the Kotzebue
flight? We were. She pointed to our gate and told us that we
were fine. We walked down the staircase
and towards the plane. Sokol wanted to
slap five, but I repeated what I had previously told him. I’ll relax when we’re sitting on the
plane. Once we got on the plane, I
relaxed, and we did slap five. As soon
as we took off, I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that
I can have something that resembles breakfast.
Aboard Northwestern Aviation N756AH, En route to Gates of the Arctic
National Park & Preserve
We are finally in the air, almost 4 hours after we landed in
Kotzebue. The weather was dicey when we
landed, and I wasn’t sure if we would be able to do the flight today. I had gotten my Gates of the Arctic NPP stamp
in Coldfoot, and I knew there was a stamp to be had for Kobuk Valley NP
here. That meant that we just needed to
land somewhere, anywhere in National Park land to make those two parks
official. I first went to the National
Park office, which was not fully opened yet, so I had to wait to get my pins
and t-shirt, which were sold by an adorable girl who did not have the Northern
look. What is the Northern look? Well, I’ll let my reader ponder that
one. In the meantime, I uploaded my
entry and did my stamping. To my
disappointment, Kobuk Valley NP did not have its own brochure, instead sharing
a general “Western Arctic Parklands” brochure, but, that was what they had, so
it counts as being official.
After the
stamping, we headed over to Northwestern Aviation where I spoke with the pilot,
Jim. I told him my priorities, and we
considered the weather. He said that the
weather was decent enough to make those two things happen, and we could even
try for the Anaktuvuk Pass RS. That was
good. However, the plane was not going
to be there for another hour, so Linda gave us a ride to get breakfast. The service was awful, the coffee worse, and
I still had no appetite. I opted for
just getting two fried eggs, along with Sokol’s bacon. I pretty much forced myself to eat it. I twice asked for water, and she never
brought any. Our hotel was next door, so
we went to check in. My debit card was
still not working right, and I haven’t had a chance to call Citibank. I suppose I will need to do that tonight,
though Jim said I could just write him a check.
No one in New York would take a check from a total stranger for even 10%
of the amount I will be paying him, maybe not even for 1% of the amount. People in Alaska are just more honest and
more trusting here, except for the Inuits, who seem to be less so of
either. It could be that they are very
trusting of one another, but it seems not so much with white folk.
Jim and I kept discussing and replanning our
day, in the end, with the weather clearing up some, goi
Aboard Northerwestern Aviation N756AH, En route to Anaktuvuk Pass
(PAKP)
The list needs to be revised again.
Whenever I used to speak of the list, it was always about the most
beautiful women I have ever seen. To me,
that was what beauty was. As I explored
in my Japan entries, aesthetics is about more than simply female, human,
physical beauty. Now, the list refers to
the most beautiful places. First is, and
may always be, The WHS. Second is now
all other Alaskan National Parks tied, followed by the Grand Canyon and all
other National Parks tied after that. Is
it fair to put Hot Springs at the same level with Acadia or Theodore Roosevelt?
To equate Cuyahoga Valley with
Yosemite? Dry Tortugas with the
Redwoods? Probably not, but it doesn’t
matter. The National Parks as a whole,
representing the entire beauty of our nation, are what matters. Each one has their own unique charm. I belive in the well ordering of any
ranking. If I really sat down, the way I
did when I made The List, I could probably rank all 59 (or the 40 that I
visited), but it would not be fair to do that.
Yosemite is meaningless without Kings Canyon also taken into account. Shenandoah meaningless without Great
Smokies. In order to consider a National
Park, each and every one of the 59 National Parks must be considered.
Our first stop was to land at Noatak
NPres. As soon as we got out of the
plane, I was floored. It was pristine
wilderness as far as the eye could see.
While we probably were not the first humans to set foot there, the
gravel runway putting pay to that theory, it certainly seemed that way. After dousing myself with deet, I lit up one
of my tiny Davidoffs while Sokol opted for a fake Cohiba. We took our first official Us in the Noatak
River, and it was clear that the deet was not doing its job. Jim had a sandwich he had packed for the
road, and Sokol and I walked around, joking with each other. I had designed this trip so that it was
doable on my own, but it was much easier with Sokol sharing the driving, and it
was a lot more fun to have him around.
He also got me out of a couple of jams, and I would have been a lot more
panicked if he wasn’t there. For
whatever we’ve gotten on each other’s nerves, the enjoyment value of having him
along far exceeds it. Not to mention
that I got a clean apartment out of the mix.
After our cigars were done, we got back in the plane, and Jim tried to
start it. I say tried. He kept pressing a button, and there was a
clicking sound. The propeller wouldn’t
start. My first thought was not that we
might be stranded in the middle of nowhere.
My first thought was that I would not be able to check off the two
National Parks, that I might not get that Anaktuvuk Pass stamp. Sokol was in the co-pilot seat, so Jim gave
him some instructions on what to do while he manually tried to crank the
propeller. He tried this a few
times. No dice. At first I was jealous that it was Sokol that
got to help with the plane, but then I realized that I would not fully trust
myself with the controls, and I was glad he was doing it instead. Finally, he got it going really good, but
Sokol didn’t press the right button. Jim
came running over, telling Sokol to move over, and we were set.
A short, scenic flight later, and we landed
inside the official National Park wilderness within Gates of the Arctic
National Park & Preserve. As soon as
we landed, Jim turned off the plane and did the exact same thing that I would
have done. He tested the starter. It was a little shaky, but it worked. Phew!
We got out, and I sprayed myself again with deet, but it was not
necessary with the wind. My hands were
full of deet, and I probably should have washed them before lighting my
Montecristo. The cigar had a bit of a
taste of deet. It didn’t matter. That cigar was about fulfillment value, not
enjoyment value. It didn’t matter that I
had trouble lighting it in the wind, which made it burn unevenly and take half
the time it should have taken. All that
mattered was that I smoked my official Cuban in the National Park.
After we were done, and I took my first
official U in the park (Sokol didn’t have it in him), I asked Jim if he thought
we could still make it to the Anaktuvuk Pass.
He said it wasn’t certain, but that we could give it a try. We would know about halfway through, which is
the point we are now at, and it is pretty cloudy, but he is showing no
indication of turning around or hesitation.
He’s been doing this practically forever, so I trust his judgment, and I
really, really want this stamp.
As we
are flying over these mountains, the mountains that make Alaska the most
beautiful place in the world, well, they look different. Flying above the mountains, they lose their
majesty, their grandeur. The draw of the
mountains is that they are so big and look larger than life. Flying on top of them, that is no longer the
case. After we land in Anaktuvuk, we will
head back towards Kotzebue, stopping at Kobuk Valley NP. That will complete the 30 Goals portion of my
time in Kotzebue, though we will try for the two sites to the west
tomorrow. After that, we have the day
that will determine whether this trip will be considered a success or a
failure, whether or not I will need to return to Alaska. If Friday works out, the entire trip will be
a success, all the disappointments of the past two weeks rendered
irrelevant. If not, then the trip will
be considered a failure, though nothing could take away my lasting memory of
The WHS. It is the difference between
this being firmly planted as the greatest trip of my life or just a long,
overhyped, overrated, overpriced vacation.
Aboard Northwestern Aviation N756AH, En route to Kotzebue (PAOT)
Mission Complete! I have
checked off two more National Parks. The
only thing that that weather did was extend the flight time by about an hour
and thereby increase the price accordingly, but it doesn’t matter! I got the two parks, along with the one of
the National Preserves. Tomorrow, we
will go for the two ones off to the west.
If that is successful, I believe I will be able to say “North America
above the 60th Parallel Complete,” which is no small thing to
say. Ah, not quite, I did not get
Yukon-Charley Rivers NPres. Oh
well. My first sign of success was when
I heard Jim radioing air traffic control at Anaktuvuk Pass, which was actually a
real airport. Well, maybe not a real
airport, but it was an airport with air traffic control and a runway. It was also a real Native American town.
I found out where the Ranger Station was, and
I walked right there. They had the stamp
sitting right out, and I introduce myself to Albert Smith (the irony not being
lost) as the guy who had been calling for the past couple of weeks. I asked if people ever fly out here for just
the stamp. He said that they don’t do it
from Kotzebue but that some people take the commercial flight from Fairbanks. That might have worked out with better
planning, but I doubt it would have been much cheaper. Actually, it would have been cheaper, but it
would have been harder to audible. I
didn’t care. I got the stamp. I just realized that would have been a Plan B
option. I could have flown from
Fairbanks to Anaktuvuk Pass this morning and then had Jim pick me up there and
take me back to Kotzebue that way.
Sokol
suggested that we check the general store for t-shirts and keychains. I thought that he was joking, but they
actually had sweatshirts, not that I was interested. I sat in the co-pilot seat on the way to
Kobuk Valley NP, a 2-hour flight due to headwinds. With the clouds blocking any chance of a
view, I fell asleep. It was too cramped,
and I couldn’t really stretch out without risking inadvertently hitting some
important control. Soon enough, we were
approaching the sand dunes.
It was weird
because there were also trees around.
When you think of sand dunes, you usually think of a desert, not a
forest with sand dunes on the other side of a river. We got out, and I lit up my Romeo y Julieta,
using Sokol’s hat to block the wind. We
walked up to the top of the dunes where we took our first official Us of the
park and carved our name in the sand.
After taking some pictures and a sip of water, that was that. Another park off the list. Sokol suggested that I just clip the cigar,
but he knows me well enough to know that the park would not be official unless
I smoked the whole cigar. We walked
towards the top of the dune on the other side of the runway, and I saw
something that looked like a nice rock.
It was not. It was some kind of
dropping. That was pretty gross. I did find some tiny rocks, along with some
bigger ones that formed part of the runway.
After I finished the cigar, we got back in the plane, me insisting that
Sokol again take the co-pilot seat. We
will soon be back in Kotzebue, where we will have overpriced Chinese for
dinner, as has become my tradition in these northern Inuit communities. There is a great story that I like to tell
about Amsterdam and Fort Simpson. During
my Eurotrip, when I was checking into my hotel in Amsterdam, such as it was, I
asked how late the souvenir shops would be open? Well, it was Sunday, so they would close
early. What did she call early? Maybe 8 PM.
Six weeks later, it’s a Sunday in Fort Simpson. I ask at the hotel where I can get
dinner? Well, the Chinese restaurant is
the only place that stays open late on Sunday.
What did she call late? Maybe 8
PM. It’s always overpriced, since they
need to fly/ship/truck everything in, and they also always serve a variety of
American food, like burgers and pizza, but the food is always good. I am very much looking forward to having
dinner there when we get back to Kotzebue.
I will now close so that I can enjoy the rest of the flight.
Kotzebue, Alaska
It has now been 2 weeks since we left Kennedy. For the travelling, by plane, by smaller
plane, by boat, by cars, by taxis, by shuttles, by trucks, by foot, it would
seem that spending 9 hours exploring the arctic parklands by charter plane
would be a perfectly relaxing and wonderful way to spend a day. It was wonderful. It was not relaxing. We spent a lot of the time sleeping, and
seeing Ralph Wien Memorial was such a welcome sight at 9 PM. Linda drove us over to the Chinese
restaurant, and, as has been our tradition, we ordered a beef dish and a
chicken dish to share. The sesame
chicken was so good. Sokol even thought
it was better than Chopstix. I disagreed.
Our plan was to sit on the bench outside the
hotel and enjoy our Avos, but the rain put pay to that. Instead, we decided to figure out how to have
them in the room. Sokol covered the
smoke detector with a shower cap, and I put a towel under the door and opened
the window. I then looked around and
found it. An exhaust vent. If we lit up at that point, surely we would
stink up the whole hotel. I closed the
vent and put a towel over it for good measure.
Then we lit up the cigars. The
only problem is that the room was negative pressure, so the air flow was coming
into the room from the window, but it will eventually exhaust into the
bathroom. We might have some trouble
airing out the room, but I’m not too worried.
After we lit up, I uploaded some photos and proceeded to write this
entry, which I will now close. Tomorrow
we do what will hopefully be Day 2 of 3 Days of charter flights. Tomorrow is really a bonus day, but Friday is
what will truly make or break the trip.
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