Sometimes a long-awaited experience is disappointing, but Alaska exceeded my wildest expectations.
In the early 1970s, my father often talked of moving our family to Alaska. Oil was discovered in Prudhoe Bay only in 1968, which started economic and population booms. He wanted to live there before it was ruined. He cruised the fjords in his old age, but he never saw it the way I did for three fabulous days last week.
My first impression of Anchorage is that it reminded me a lot of Fort Smith. My son Ethan agreed without hesitation. However, its vibe is also very similar to that of Little Rock, except it's a lot more laid back.
Although we prepared for cold with proper attire, I did not expect it to be as cold as it was. Anchorage set records for low temperatures in April during our stay, and on Wednesday, I drove through a snowstorm. Driving in an arctic snowstorm is a weird bucket list item, but it was on mine, and I crossed it off my list. The next morning we awoke to an earthquake centered at Fairbanks that registered 2.6 on the Richter scale. It shook our motel room for a few seconds.
The cold would have been tolerable if not for a bitter wind that abated only for a few hours on Wednesday.
We spent our entire stay between Anchorage and Seward in the midst of the Chugach Mountains, elevation about 13,000 feet. They are stark and barren, with fir trees on their waistlines and bald on top. All day every day, the wind whipped snow off the peaks with such force that they looked as if they were aflame.
Signs along Alaska Highway 1 warn of avalanche zones and order motorists not to stop. In the event of an avalanche, crossing gates close traffic.
A few miles outside Anchorage, at Chugach State Park and in the Chugach National Forest, hiking trails are everywhere. Nearing Seward, you encounter a lot of national forest campgrounds and stocked fishing lakes. There are a couple of fish viewing areas where you can stand on footbridges and watch salmon migrating upstream to spawn. Salmon haven't arrived yet and the rivers are still very low, but I would love to come back and fish.
During a wildlife cruise in Resurrection Bay aboard the Orca Song, I met a retired corrections officer from Pennsylvania who bought a 400-square-foot cabin and an acre abutting the Denali National Park for $30,000. He said he spends his winters trapping, which requires traveling on a snowmobile.
One must have established residency in Alaska for one year to get resident hunting privileges. He said he will achieve residency in late summer, but he couldn't afford to hunt in 2020 as a nonresident. He was very excited about hunting this fall.
The man showed me photos of snow piled up to the fireplace vent on his roof, with a path dug between his front door and his outhouse.
"It's great if you like to be alone, and I do," he said. He was one of the happiest, most content men I have met.
Miss Laura texted me to tell me that an old friend, Donna Jackson, was in Anchorage with her sister to see the northern lights. We met Jackson in 1988 while hiking through Pennsylvania, when we stopped at a Methodist youth camp near Williamsport, Pa., to rest. We visited with the caretakers, Dick Lose and Dot Lose, before going our way.
Dot Lose sent Donna, her daughter, to fetch us. The weather forecast called for a bad storm, and Dot, the consummate mother hen, insisted we stay with them until it passed. We stayed about three days, but our friendship endured.
We contacted Jackson, who invited my sons and me to her sister's house for one of the best meals ever. Ethan, Matthew and I dropped some major coin on seafood dinners up and down the Alaska coast. The fare was very good, but it all lacked a special, indefinable "something."
With fish they caught themselves, Donna and Debbie prepared halibut two different ways and salmon three different ways. There was teriyaki salmon, barbecued salmon and salmon with a cream onion sauce. They fried up hush puppies, made a gourmet salad and topped it all off with brownies. We overdosed, but they begged us to take a cooler full of frozen fish home with us. We would have, but all three of us were going to different destinations upon arriving in Little Rock and had no place to store it.
Friendships are the definition of living well, and reconnecting with an old friend made Alaska feel like home.