When Copper Was Copious and Butterhorns Scant

Glennallen, Alaska doesn’t have a whole lot going for it. An IGA grocery store, a gas station, and the pretty decent Northern Nights Campground round out the amenities. It is, however, on the way to the ghostly towns of McCarthy and Kennecott, which are accessed via 100 kms of unpaved road through the Alaskan wilderness.

With just one ‘doughnut’ spare tire we decided to leave the driving to the Greyhound and pay someone to drive us to McCarthy. That someone turned out to be Maine woods transplant Jeff, who pulled up at our campground at 7:00 sharp in a beat up 15 passenger van. The van was covered in thick dust, and the windshield had several long cracks, but the vehicle seemed roadworthy overall, at least by Alaskan standards. We were the first to be picked up, but in short order, Jeff drove around to various cabins and motels, even to the nearby tiny airport, to pick up our fellow passengers, and soon we were on our way.

As he drove Jeff shared his story of growing up in Maine, spending up to 100 days at a time in his remote cabin with just his dog for company who, after enough days of solitude, began to hold up his end of the conversation quite nicely.

He (Jeff, not the dog) came out to visit Alaska 18 years ago and before he went home, he bought a cabin here.  The following year, he returned to stay, meeting his “missus” who hailed from Minnesota and had already preceded him in Alaska by more than a decade.

Jeff lives what he calls a subsistence life, hunting (moose, elk, bear, mountain sheep and goats) and fishing (salmon what else?), building his own home and, oh yeah, driving tourists a few days a week and operating a lodge with cabins to rent. Like all other permanent Alaska residents, he also collects his share of the Alaska Permanent Fund Dividend which in 2021 was $1,114 per person according to Wikipedia (Jeff said $3,600 per person so…). This payment is just what it sounds like: the State of Alaska pays you to live here.

The Road to McCarthy

As we turned off the paved road, the wisdom of not bringing our own van became readily apparent. The ‘road’ is a ribbon of gravel over some kind of washboard textured packed dirt. By driving at precisely 42 miles per hour, Jeff was able to ‘float’ over the surface of the road, saving time and wear and tear on the vehicle if not on us. Float was his word; it wouldn’t have been the word I would have chosen. There were frequent potholes that rattled our teeth and threatened to shake loose a kidney or two, not to mention the times that we would pass another vehicle on that narrow road and come perilously close to that 100 foot drop off at the edge. I never would have had the nerve to go that fast and even if we hadn’t gotten a flat or wrecked the suspension on the van, it would have taken me three times as long to drive that 100 kms. Jeff did it in about 90 minutes. Along the way we saw a moose and smelled the acrid scent of a grizzly bear. But the bear chose not to make an appearance, much to our disappointment.

At McCarthy we walked across a footbridge where Dan was waiting on the other side in a little school bus to take us the remaining 6 miles to Kennecott. Suffice it to say that this road made the previous thoroughfare seem glassy smooth by comparison.

The town of Kennecott is a National Historic Landmark within the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park and Preserve. From 1909-1938 the town was the site of the Kennecott Copper mine. It was located on one of the richest copper deposits in the world.

The timing couldn’t have been better. The electrification of North America was in full swing and copper for wiring fetched a high price. Then in 1938 as the vein began to give out, the price of copper plummeted and the mine and its host town were abandoned.

Crumbling Mill Buildings in Kennecott

Given the harshness of the climate, a surprising number of buildings remain. Most of them are unsafe to enter (they look like they could collapse at any moment) but the Park Service is trying to preserve and stabilize them.

One building you can enter is the lodge. It is not original but it is a replica of the original and it has more than 40 rooms available for guests. It also has a restaurant where we proceeded to take our lunch. The tuna melt and caprese sandwiches we shared may not have been authentic to the mining days (see below), but they were tasty and reasonably priced considering there was only one other restaurant, a food truck, in town.

After lunch we visited the museum which gave me more of an appreciation for what the men who labored here had to contend with. To say that conditions were harsh and the pay poor would be to understate the case. On display was a document adopted by the men, which was sent to the company to demand better food.  There was no information about how the company responded to these demands but as I mentioned the mine was shut down the following year. Sound familiar?

I thought the letter was worth reproducing in whole at the end of this post.

The area around the mill is a sand river a kilometer wide full of tailings of many colors. This harmless looking gritty material is full of arsenic, lead, and mercury, delightful chemicals left over after the valuable stuff has been taken.  The park service helpfully suggests that after walking around, you wash your hands before touching food or your mouth. They also suggest washing your shoes. It goes without saying you shouldn’t eat your shoes after visiting Kennecott.

After exhausting the museums and enjoying a short hike, we took the shuttle back to McCarthy in time to check out the famous restaurant called Potato where we had a couple of IPAs and (appropriately) some garlic rosemary curly fries. They were very tasty.  Then it was time to cross the foot bridge and find Jeff for the roller coaster ride back to Glennallen.

It was after 8 pm by the time we got back though still many hours until sunset.  We planned to set out early the next day for Seward on the Kenai Peninsula to try our luck with another cruise.

Barbara hoped to see a few more glaciers and to add a few more species to our list. I aspired more simply to get through the day with my breakfast inside me and not in the sea.

May 18, 1937

A meeting has been called by the undersigned group of men to discus and demand better food at the Bonanza Camp.

Moved and seconded that floor be thrown open for discussion.

Carried

Moved and seconded that discussion be closed.

Carried

(Demands)

1)    That there be more fresh fruits, such as pear, bananas, grapefruit, etc., in season,

2)    That the eggs be fresh,

3)    That there be fresh greens three times weekly,

4)    That there be more varieties of fresh meats,

5)    That there be Worcestershire sauce, catsup, and jam or jelly on the table at all times and that the sour, tainted, mouldy or spoiled foods be thrown out,

6)    That there be fresh fish and clams occasionally, when these are in season,

7)    That there be a bigger variety of, pastries, such as cinnamon rolls, butterhorns*, etc,

8)    That the meat be sent up to this camp in such a way that it can be served in some other way than in the form of hamburger or stew,

9)    That there be more of a variety of food on the breakfast table, such as buckwheat cakes or French toast, and that the bacon alternate with ham and pork sausage, and

10) That a sufficiency of foods be prepared at each meal to do away with the remark, "They ain't no more".

 We also wish to know why two sacks of mouldy bones, stripped of meat were sent to this camp.

 We give the company reasonable time to meet these demands and request an answer within 48 hours.

Nels Konnerup

Adolph Peterson

Don Canske

Egan Petrokov

Louis Mason

Rudolf Hokanson

Steve Worbel

Fred Algren

Harold Johnson

Jack Butorac

Baio Olen

Ed Rennie

Roy Hill

W. Lahikaine

Joe Kelly

J. Billios

H. Carlson

Emil Norman

William Fullerton

Chas. Klemole

Chas. Newman

Jas. Borgen

Karl Anderson

Geo. Marhaffer

Anton Johmson

John Nedkoff

Theo. Peterson

Edward Wilber

John M. Larsen

Matt Majander

Tom Driscoll

Tom Pastovich

Warren Kimber

Andrew Phillips

John Krpon

*I had to know up what butterhorns were so I looked it up. Surprise!

Wild Wonder

With its staggering beauty everywhere you turn, Alaska is a wonder renewal machine. Of course, wherever you live or travel there are plenty of wonders. Just opening one’s eyes in the the morning should be a call to wonder. But the truth is that when we have seen a thing as wonderous as the view out our window a few times, we begin to forget just how incredible the world is, never mind our astonishing brains that take it in and to some degree make sense of it.

Alaska doesn’t give one a chance to become blasé about its miracles. Its mountains soar in many places more than 5,300 meters (16,000 feet) above sea level. Snowcapped even in mid-summer. Blue-ice glaciers are visible from the road. Curious sea creatures, from humpback whales to playful sea otters swimming on their backs in icy waters with expressions that look to the human eye like mirthful joy. Just as one view threatens to become ‘normal,’ around the bend is the proverbial ‘something completely different.’ A new vista awes and amazes. The weather changes from sunshine to wind and rain and back again multiple times in one day. The humans who live here are also, as you might expect, a unique breed: independent, rugged, and highly, highly opinionated.  As I mentioned previously, traveling as we do is as much work as it is leisure but what a place to conduct business!

After leaving Haines and heading back into Canada, we continued along the Alcan (Alaska-Canada Highway) reentering the U.S. the following day and camping at Tok, Alaska. Tok has a large grocery store called, ‘The Three Bears.’ Didn’t see any bears inside, however half the store is devoted to food and the other half to camping, hunting, and fishing supplies. We picked up some veggies and Alaskan smoked salmon for dinner, a gallon of camping fuel for the stove, 5 kilograms of ice for the cooler, and a six pack of a delicious Alaskan Brewery IPA.

Sunset is still after 10 pm but now nearly six weeks after the summer solstice, it is actually sort of dark for a short time around 2 am though my Apple Watch app tells me that it is still not getting darker than twilight.

The following day, we turned south toward Valdez, following the Richardson Highway through some 200 kilometers of near wilderness. Spruce pine, clear, icy streams, and jagged mountain peaks covered with snow make up the view. The day we drove to Valdez was raining and the mountains were shrouded in mists.

Valdez is a surprisingly pleasant little town that splits its economy among fishing, tourism, and oil. There is lots of evidence of industry yet it makes a great base camp from which to enjoy the outdoors. Located on Prince William Sound, Valdez is surrounded on all sides by mountains, which we were able to see on the two days of sunshine of the five that we were there. While there, we had two bike rides, one to a lake beside a glacier, the other to a salmon hatchery where fat sea lions gorged on the returning pink salmon and hordes of sea gulls gathered to scarf up the fish guts that the sea lions were too refined to devour.

We also booked a day-long boat tour on the sound led by a salty, old captain who spoke non-stop over a loud speaker for the entire 8 hours of the journey in a way that was oddly both stream of consciousness and at the same time sounded completely rehearsed, as if he were reciting a history of Valdez written by a James Joyce turned right-wing extremist that he had read aloud every day since 1979, all delivered in a kind of sing-song cadence.

I found it most irritating until the swells in the open water of the sound caused me to become so seasick that I dashed to the rails where I dry-heaved while the water coming over the sides of the boat soaked me to the skin with freezing salt water. Then with the help of Barbara’s steady hand (she doesn’t get seasick), I lurched back inside the hold and buried my head in my lap until the waters settled down and I was able to look up again.

After that, I was so grateful not to be feeling violently ill, that the incessant diatribe which included mocking vegetarians, ecologists, Democrats, and trans-people didn’t seem as onerous by comparison to being sick as a dog.

I was one of the lucky ones. Some of the other passengers didn’t recover until we were back at the dock that evening.

In spite of the owner’s apparent distain for vegetarians, the little café on board offered (in addition to brownies, muffins, popcorn, and hotdogs) vegetarian chili available for purchase. You can always rely on commerce to trump prejudice in all civilized societies. Given the uneasy state of my stomach, however, I couldn’t hazard the risk and therefore cannot report on how tasty it may have been. 

In spite of the challenges of the rough seas and the unenlightened views of our captain (our captor?), I must admit that we did get incredibly close to the Columbia Glacier (and the large pieces of it that floated by apparently nonplussed by our guide’s insistence that climate change is a hoax). We also saw Bald Eagles, the aforementioned mirthful sea otters, and sea lions loafing at their ease on rock islands and buoys. These were not insignificant recompense for the indignities I suffered on board at the hands of the sea and the breathless rant of Cap’n Salty.

Whatever your views on petroleum and its effect on the planet, there is no doubt that oil has been good to Valdez. Oil revenue has built beautiful schools, surprisingly prosperous suburbs, and even paid for a Tesla in a driveway or two apparently without irony. The roads are in fine repair and there is even a full-sized Safeway in town, the first national chain grocery store we have seen in Alaska so far.

We could have easily spent several more days in Valdez without running out of things to do and see, but with July dwindling down and much more of the state still to cover, this morning saw us packing up and heading back up the road to Glennallen.

From here we booked a day tour to McCarthy which thrived as a copper mining depot until 1938 when the copper deposits were exhausted. Since then it has been mostly a ghost town reporting just 42 residents in the 2000 census. They say it is possible to drive the 158 km from Glennallen to McCarthy over the unpaved road in a regular car, but with just one spare tire and that a ‘doughnut’ we decided to leave the driving to others freeing us to enjoy the wonders sure to be served up without the stress of a blowout on a deserted road miles from cell phone service, never mind the towing service.

Alaska is a wonder renewal machine but it also reminds me that wonders and astonishment are everywhere. You don’t need to travel 8,000 km to be astonished. You just need to remember to see and not allow yourself to become jaded by the miracles the world presents every day. I am thinking about the fox that trots across our lawn at home every day, the wren that nested and hatched its young under the lid of our propane tank this spring, the little snake our neighbor Kitty found in our basement on her periodic inspection during our absence, and the owl that calls at night from the trees in our little town in suburban Maryland.

Wild and wonders are everywhere.

Jew? No.

Juneau, Alaska – Week 5

Eagles? Humpback Whales? Cruise Ships? Many, many cruise ships? Yes!

Jew? No.

Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say, Jew, not so much. But more on that later.

Last Friday we jumped on the state-run Alaska Marine Highway System Ferry (also known as the cruise ship for the rest of us) and shortly thereafter we were sailing down the Lynn Canal aboard the Le Conte beginning our nearly six-hour journey from Haines to Juneau.

The LeConte is a large vessel with seating on two decks including a ‘solarium’ where one can sit on the deck but under warm lamps on lounge chairs watching the stunning scenery go by. We didn’t move fast enough to get one of those coveted seats and ended up on comfy chairs inside but still plenty of windows to gawk at the snowcapped mountains on both sided of the ship. At dinner time a cafeteria opened offering fresh-made sandwiches and burgers and some salads and sweets. I contented myself with a cheese sandwich from our own provisions which I wrapped up in a napkin and heated in the microwave. I also helped myself to the condiments like mustard and pickle relish and stashed away a few packets of mayo in case we decided to whip up some tuna salad in Juneau.

The trip went by quickly and when we arrived in Juneau it was still broad daylight though it was after 9 pm. There is no bus or public transport that runs from the dock to downtown which is more than 20 km away so as we pulled into the dock, I summoned a Lyft with my phone and Kevin pulled into the lot in his Jeep Liberty just as we stepped off the ship. Fifteen minutes later we checked into our hotel.

The Alaskan Hotel and Bar bills itself as the oldest hotel in Juneau. Built in 1913 the decor still suggests the brothel it once was. It is a rambling wooden structure and we are in a strange room on the 3rd floor in what appears to have once been the attic. There is a tiny bathroom, and then an even smaller room that has a shower. We got a room with a kitchenette planning to save money by preparing at least some of our own food. There is a stovetop and oven, a fridge, and a sink. However, the sole item in the batterie de cuisine was a small saucepan with a lid. There were also two paper plates for our five day stay and two plastic forks. We were happy to wash the forks but the plates were sure to get grotty quickly. The saucepan was a least sufficient to boil water for our drip coffee and the hotel description promised that more cooking things were available on request.

The Alaskan Hotel and Bar. The decor suggests its past.

We spent the next day getting oriented. There is a tram that rises from down near the cruise ship docks to the top of a nearby mountain, but being tough we decided to walk up the trail. It was a steep 3 km climb to the top (maybe 4 including the walk from town to the trailhead from town) but the path was not too muddy and easy to follow even in a light rain. At the top was a beautiful view of Juneau and a gift shop and restaurant. We watched a short film about the history the native Tlingit people and then hiked down again.

I remember reading a novel once where a town was described as being as compact as a box of dominoes. (I don’t remember which novel and even an internet search doesn’t reveal the answer. Ten points to the person who posts it below.) At any rate that is what Juneau reminds me of. For a state capital it is tiny and the tourist gift shops outnumber the state office buildings by many times. And why not? Five massive cruise ships pull into the docks here every day. Those thousands of people need to buy trinkets, t-shirts, smoked salmon-in-a-can, and, yes, cannabis. There is a ‘kush’ shop right next door to our hotel and a bar or a liquor store every 100 meters in the downtown. Also, lots of shops selling candy, ice cream, and fudge. Whatever your indulgence, you will find it on the main drag.

The State Capitol in Juneau

The state buildings including the Capitol and the Governor’s ‘Mansion’ are half a kilometer up the hill where few tourists venture, though, of course, we did. The Governor’s Mansion is a nice looking house though I have seen grander residences in Bethesda, Maryland, and the Capitol looks much like a mid-20th Century high school building.

The town is pressed right up against a mountain and mostly built on fill dirt dug out of the gold and copper mines of the 1800s and dumped into the sea. A walk in any direction for more than a few minutes begins a steep incline.

Southeast Alaska is also the world’s most northern rain forest. It rains a lot! It has rained every day that we have been in Juneau. Sometimes a steady downpour. Other times just a light Scottish mist. Although the hours of daylight are many, we have yet to see the actual sun.

On Sunday we headed out for the tour we booked to the Mendenhall Glacier. We were with a small group of 15 people and two guides, Kelby and Bryce (nice young people) who loaded us into a (yikes) a 15-passenger van and drove us out to Mendenhall Lake, which sits right in front of (and is fed by) the glacier. We donned rain pants, rain jackets, boots and gloves, and all climbed into a gigantic canoe which we paddled for about 40 minutes across the lake to the foot of the glacier. The glacier is a massive chunk of blue ice that is retreating (i.e. melting) at a rate of nearly 35cm a year. We hiked up to the very edge of the glacier but didn’t hike on it due to its instability (you don’t want to end up under 500 kilos of ice) but we did stand on some ice so I guess technically we stood on the glacier. I was glad to have seen it while it was still there.

See it while it lasts.

Back at our hotel, we requested some kitchen items with which to cook. I envisioned a box of various pots and pans, cutlery, a chef’s knife, and a cutting board. Maybe even some basic condiments like salt and pepper.

Fifteen minutes later housekeeping showed up with one frying pan and two more paper plates. Some creativity would be called for in the preparation of gourmet meals.

One of the pleasures of traveling as we are is that we stay in each place just as long as we want. Some of our companions on the glacier tour who were on cruise ships were bemoaning the fact that they got only a part of one day in Juneau. But with no time pressure, we didn’t mind a unprogrammed morning on Monday enjoying another hike along a narrow mountain road that had been built for gold miners. The outbound was all uphill for the reasons noted above and climbed up into the low clouds where waterfalls and cascades tumbled from the mists. Just a short walk from downtown, we saw few hikers and those we did see seemed to be locals walking with their dogs or their children. In the afternoon, we took a whale watching trip on a small boat and saw 10-12 humpback whales very close up and a colony of sea lions loafing at their ease on a buoy. Dinner was a splurge at a lovely restaurant serving southwestern Indian cuisine.

With the frying pan and my pocket knife and our handy go-everywhere sporks, we managed to cook up some nice breakfast and lunches (including tuna salad using the mayonnaise knicked from the ferry) but we have dined out here more than the whole rest of the trip combined. On the plus side, we are not spending $70 per day to fill the van with gasoline so I guess that balances things out somewhat. Most of the dining out has been things like fish tacos or avocado toast so the costs have been relatively modest.

When we arrived, I thought it might be interesting to check out the Jewish life situation in Juneau. However, an internet search revealed little but a reform synagogue called Sukkat Shalom and although the website said that all are welcome, there was no address for the shul listed on the site. Beyond that one shul, there were no kosher restaurants, no JCC, not even a Chabad that I could find.

Today, was our last full day in Juneau and with no structured plans we again set out for a hike. The morning was overcast but the rain was holding off which seemed promising. The hike we chose was in Douglas just across the inlet and we decided to take the public transit bus to get there ($2 each). As we got off the bus we started to walk (uphill, of course) through a nice suburban neighborhood, there it was, Congregation Sukkat Shalom built in what appeared to be a covered bridge-like structure suspended over a rushing stream! It was beautiful but also desolate with no signs of life, not even a car in the parking lot. We took a few photos but didn’t try to make contact.

Congregation Sukkat Shalom, Douglas, Alaska.

The last cruise ship departs Juneau sometime in September and the moment it does, all the shops downtown Juneau close and are boarded up for the winter but today the streets are packed with the visitors who spend many thousands of dollars each year here. Juneau is finely tuned to extract wealth from the tourists the way the miners of old extracted gold from the hills that soar above us. Take what is of value and toss the dross back into the sea.

Early tomorrow we too will return to the sea for the trip back to Haines where our campervan is waiting. If all goes without a hitch, we will drive back into Canada in the afternoon to continue on to the interior of Alaska heading toward the Kenai Peninsula. We are looking forward to sleeping once again in our own bed, albeit on a mattress that is only a few centimeters thick, and getting back to food prep using our well stocked galley.  Relying on hotels and restaurants here in Juneau, we have been living in deprivation. Time to get back to a more luxurious level of travel.