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Road Trip USA. Part One, Salton Sea to Arctic Ocean. (2 Viewers)
- Thread starter Jos Stratford
- Start date
The Dalton Highway.
The Dalton Highway is a daunting prospect for the hitchhiker. Mostly gravel and traversing boreal forests, the mountains of the Brooks Range and endless tundra atop permafrost, all inhabited by roaming bears and wolves, the road essentially goes nowhere, merely proving access to the oilfields of Prudhoe Bay. Leaving Fairbanks, it is 800 km to the Arctic Ocean, one truck stop and fuel station midway, but otherwise no habitations and no facilities. And very little traffic!
Day One
Day one started pretty dire – a one-hour wait to go 15 km, then a five-hour wait to go 80! Ah well, at least it was sunny! At the long wait, fortunately beside a small river, there were a few attractions to while away the time – a Bald Eagle circling around, an American Kestrel on a dead tree, a Belted Kingfisher several times, one Alder Flycatcher, plus Grey Jays and other common birds, and an American Red Squirrel. I would have traded them all for a lift however!
As the five-hour marker approached, a cracking of little branches in the undergrowth, a rustling in the bushes ...and then, oo er, a Black Bear was ambling past …eeks! Fortunately, that was the precise moment that a car finally stopped and gave me a lift! Thereafter things looked up. After being dropped off at a totally nondescript patch of boreal forest, the guy turning off to venture into the wilds, I thought I was going to be stuck forever. Not so, the next car stopped within 15 minutes and my luck was in, the guy was a native Alaskan and was going all the way to the mighty Yukon River, his homestead a few hours downriver by boat.
It was now early evening and I was now only an hour or so south of the Arctic Circle, I thought about calling it a day and began to eye possible camping spots aside the river. 'Na', thought I, 'let’s try to get a little bit further north'. I perched myself back on the side of the dusty road and a mere ten minutes later a car came tootling along and stopped. ‘Construction Camp 5, wanna lift?’ Sure, I jumped in, ‘Er, where’s Construction Camp 5?’, I enquired, expecting it to be just around the next corner. But jeepers, my luck had really changed – Camp 5 was a small base for road maintenance crews situated a staggering 340 km north! Hurtling north at a great rate of knots, a cloud of dust in our wake …didn’t see many birds, but it was bye bye to the boreal forests, straight over the Arctic Circle, stunted spruces becoming ever smaller, then up and over the impressive Brooks Range. Patches of snow and the promise of the North Slope ahead persuaded me not to abandon my lift to explore, so onward we ploughed, the landscapes now devoid of trees, pure tundra sitting atop permafrost.
About 30 km short of Construction Camp 5, I decided to hop out. Adjacent, the waters of Toolik Lake looked most inviting, I would investigate them in the morning.
Now in the land of the 24-hour sun, it was near midnight. I set up camp on the open tundra, mozzy swarms pretty impressive, Long-tailed Jaegers quartering, a pair of Glaucous Gulls on a small pool, Arctic Ground Squirrels calling. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself, almost 600 km travelled on the day, just 225 to go!
The Dalton Highway is a daunting prospect for the hitchhiker. Mostly gravel and traversing boreal forests, the mountains of the Brooks Range and endless tundra atop permafrost, all inhabited by roaming bears and wolves, the road essentially goes nowhere, merely proving access to the oilfields of Prudhoe Bay. Leaving Fairbanks, it is 800 km to the Arctic Ocean, one truck stop and fuel station midway, but otherwise no habitations and no facilities. And very little traffic!
Day One
Day one started pretty dire – a one-hour wait to go 15 km, then a five-hour wait to go 80! Ah well, at least it was sunny! At the long wait, fortunately beside a small river, there were a few attractions to while away the time – a Bald Eagle circling around, an American Kestrel on a dead tree, a Belted Kingfisher several times, one Alder Flycatcher, plus Grey Jays and other common birds, and an American Red Squirrel. I would have traded them all for a lift however!
As the five-hour marker approached, a cracking of little branches in the undergrowth, a rustling in the bushes ...and then, oo er, a Black Bear was ambling past …eeks! Fortunately, that was the precise moment that a car finally stopped and gave me a lift! Thereafter things looked up. After being dropped off at a totally nondescript patch of boreal forest, the guy turning off to venture into the wilds, I thought I was going to be stuck forever. Not so, the next car stopped within 15 minutes and my luck was in, the guy was a native Alaskan and was going all the way to the mighty Yukon River, his homestead a few hours downriver by boat.
It was now early evening and I was now only an hour or so south of the Arctic Circle, I thought about calling it a day and began to eye possible camping spots aside the river. 'Na', thought I, 'let’s try to get a little bit further north'. I perched myself back on the side of the dusty road and a mere ten minutes later a car came tootling along and stopped. ‘Construction Camp 5, wanna lift?’ Sure, I jumped in, ‘Er, where’s Construction Camp 5?’, I enquired, expecting it to be just around the next corner. But jeepers, my luck had really changed – Camp 5 was a small base for road maintenance crews situated a staggering 340 km north! Hurtling north at a great rate of knots, a cloud of dust in our wake …didn’t see many birds, but it was bye bye to the boreal forests, straight over the Arctic Circle, stunted spruces becoming ever smaller, then up and over the impressive Brooks Range. Patches of snow and the promise of the North Slope ahead persuaded me not to abandon my lift to explore, so onward we ploughed, the landscapes now devoid of trees, pure tundra sitting atop permafrost.
About 30 km short of Construction Camp 5, I decided to hop out. Adjacent, the waters of Toolik Lake looked most inviting, I would investigate them in the morning.
Now in the land of the 24-hour sun, it was near midnight. I set up camp on the open tundra, mozzy swarms pretty impressive, Long-tailed Jaegers quartering, a pair of Glaucous Gulls on a small pool, Arctic Ground Squirrels calling. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself, almost 600 km travelled on the day, just 225 to go!
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Farnboro John
Well-known member
Dalton, Day Two.
I woke to a pitter-patter on my tent, I thought it was raining …it wasn’t, just half a million mosquitoes banging into my tent instead! The sun was shining yet again, so donning long sleeves and squirting a little repellent, I took a wander down to the shores of the nearby Lake Toolik. American Tree Sparrows and Common Redpolls in dwarf willows and Arctic Ground Squirrels barking alarms from drier patches of tundra, but it was Toolik that held the glories this morning – looking most resplendent in the morning sun, one magnificent pair of breeding Yellow-billed Loons complete with chick. These were certainly one of the highlights of the Dalton, nicely complemented by a pair of Tundra Swans, several Glaucous Gulls and a Greater Scaup.
And then it was back to the highway, time to resume my trek northbound, Deadhorse a mere 225 km distant. The road a lonely affair this far north, I sat upon a rock and waited. Long-tailed Jaegers hunted on hillsides around, a Northern Harrier and two Rough-legged Hawks spooked the ground squirrels, a Peregrine arrived to annoy the jaegers. Many butterflies too – clouded yellow types, fritillaries, swallowtail, skippers, blues, heaths, browns, an amazing assortment for the Arctic I thought.
And there I waited …all day long, ten mind-blowing hours going nowhere!
I was stranded, how frustrating. And then it looked like it was about to get even worse – a lone thunderstorm that had been parked on the slopes of the Brooks Mountain to my south seemed to be trundling my way, a drenching would certainly have changed my mood! To my north, the sun remained gloriously in control, blue skies untouched by clouds. The storm edged in, a rainbow bright in the sky, but the first heavy drops were already falling my way, a bank of rain looking most imminent. Oo er, this was not going to be pleasant, I thought. And then, out from the rain rolled a car, a guy going just 30 km to construction camp 5! Only 30 km, and to the same location as my lift the day before had been going, but hey a lift is a lift and I was on the move again. Thirty kilometres also took me way beyond the rain, the drop off point a most pleasant vale in the tundra, a marsh to the one side and the Trans-Alaskan Pipeline just beyond. And the good news, the gent who had stopped said if I was ready at 6.30 a.m. next morning, he was going the rest of the way to Deadhorse!
Though gone 11 p.m. by the time I’d put my tent up, the sun was still high and the evening warm. I took a walk along the pipeline, two American Robins perching on its struts, a couple of rather beautiful Short-eared Owls quartering the adjacent wetland. Around midnight, I retired to my tent, a Dall’s Sheep visible high on a slope opposite, a male Smith’s Longspur in rushes adjacent.
I woke to a pitter-patter on my tent, I thought it was raining …it wasn’t, just half a million mosquitoes banging into my tent instead! The sun was shining yet again, so donning long sleeves and squirting a little repellent, I took a wander down to the shores of the nearby Lake Toolik. American Tree Sparrows and Common Redpolls in dwarf willows and Arctic Ground Squirrels barking alarms from drier patches of tundra, but it was Toolik that held the glories this morning – looking most resplendent in the morning sun, one magnificent pair of breeding Yellow-billed Loons complete with chick. These were certainly one of the highlights of the Dalton, nicely complemented by a pair of Tundra Swans, several Glaucous Gulls and a Greater Scaup.
And then it was back to the highway, time to resume my trek northbound, Deadhorse a mere 225 km distant. The road a lonely affair this far north, I sat upon a rock and waited. Long-tailed Jaegers hunted on hillsides around, a Northern Harrier and two Rough-legged Hawks spooked the ground squirrels, a Peregrine arrived to annoy the jaegers. Many butterflies too – clouded yellow types, fritillaries, swallowtail, skippers, blues, heaths, browns, an amazing assortment for the Arctic I thought.
And there I waited …all day long, ten mind-blowing hours going nowhere!
I was stranded, how frustrating. And then it looked like it was about to get even worse – a lone thunderstorm that had been parked on the slopes of the Brooks Mountain to my south seemed to be trundling my way, a drenching would certainly have changed my mood! To my north, the sun remained gloriously in control, blue skies untouched by clouds. The storm edged in, a rainbow bright in the sky, but the first heavy drops were already falling my way, a bank of rain looking most imminent. Oo er, this was not going to be pleasant, I thought. And then, out from the rain rolled a car, a guy going just 30 km to construction camp 5! Only 30 km, and to the same location as my lift the day before had been going, but hey a lift is a lift and I was on the move again. Thirty kilometres also took me way beyond the rain, the drop off point a most pleasant vale in the tundra, a marsh to the one side and the Trans-Alaskan Pipeline just beyond. And the good news, the gent who had stopped said if I was ready at 6.30 a.m. next morning, he was going the rest of the way to Deadhorse!
Though gone 11 p.m. by the time I’d put my tent up, the sun was still high and the evening warm. I took a walk along the pipeline, two American Robins perching on its struts, a couple of rather beautiful Short-eared Owls quartering the adjacent wetland. Around midnight, I retired to my tent, a Dall’s Sheep visible high on a slope opposite, a male Smith’s Longspur in rushes adjacent.
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19 July. Deadhorse.
Yippee, journey’s end, Deadhorse directly ahead, I had made it! True to his word, my guy had picked me up at 6.30 a.m. and here we were, two hours later approaching the end of the road. A lone Musk Ox had welcomed us in, one Rough-legged Hawk too.
Deadhorse is not exactly a conventional birding locality – a semi-industrial complex of storage tanks, pipelines, porta cabins and heavy machinery interspersed by tundra carved out into glacial polygons and pools heaving with birds. Gaggles of geese traipsing along with masses of goslings, phalaropes oblivious to trucks rumbling past and Snow Buntings flitting down from assorted constructions. Oh yes, this is Deadhorse! But would the town reveal the jewel in the crown, the enigmatic Spectacled Eider?
After giving me a quick tour of the town and associated pools, my guy dropped me aside the Sag River, a soft patch of tundra soil the perfect location for my tent. One Red Fox trotting past, a Long-tailed Jaeger cruising overhead, Arctic Ground Squirrels in the embankment adjacent, a quick scan around revealing no sign of the plentiful Grizzly Bears that wander this wilderness, nor (I guess fortunately) Polar Bears that occur from time to time.
With tent up, it was time to begin the search, 12,000 km on the road and just one bird to go. I confess to being a little apprehensive, Spectacled Eiders traditionally depart these waters by early July, most returning to the open seas to moult, the breeders inland on inaccessible pools.
Past the first lake I walked, a pair of Tundra Swans on the far bank, Pacific Loons off to the side, a posse of Red-necked Phaloropes spinning away, and on I wandered. I paused to photograph an obliging Lapland Longspur and, as I did, a car pulled up. A birder! And a British birder at that – Richard Crossley, now based in the US. Well, he’d been in the area for a couple of days, so after pleasantries, the obvious question arose, ‘Any eiders lingering?’ Affirmative was the answer, quite good news. I ventured a second question, ‘Er, any Spectacled Eiders?’ A wry smile, then …another affirmative! Four birds had been on a pool the day before, but a little mobile. I didn’t care – if they were still in the area, I’d stay for however many days it took to find them!
Now this was one kind gent, he offered to drive me to the relevant pool, an offer I wasn’t about to turn down. Five minutes later, we were there. A treat for the eyes, perhaps 80 Red-necked Phalaropes were zipping about, a handful of Semi-palmated Sandpipers and Pectoral Sandpipers on the far bank and quite a number of White-fronted Geese and Pintail gathered too. Parasitic Jaegers zoomed over, Glaucous Gulls roamed with intent. Then a dark duck suddenly floated out into the pool – a lady of the clan to kick off the eider action, one very nice female King Eider. A few minutes later, while still admiring the first bird, round circled four more birds and plopped down aside. Spectacled Eiders!!! Oh yoy yoy, alongside each other, a king and the crown jewels, pretty amazing. No males, they’d long departed for the waters of the Arctic Ocean, but a couple of the females were wonderful ghosts of the males, the head pattern most pronounced. I settled down to see if I could get a photograph or two and, what nice birds they were, they paddled up through a channel and sailed right past me. Couldn’t get much better than that, Greater Roadrunner to Spectacled Eider, trip effectively over.
A stop on a larger pool nearby was also a treat – hordes of Long-tailed Ducks in fine plumage, rafts of Greater Scaups and several hundred White-fronted Geese and Cackling Geese, all trailing goslings by the dozen. In this highly sensitive oil town, security is a constant issue for the guards and it was not long before they spotted us – in town, you tend to get kicked off any site away from the roads, but even on the roads we received ‘special attention’, with luminous jackets offered to ensure the numerous trucks didn’t plough us down and personal traffic cones to set up behind us while birding! Around and about, Snow Buntings feeding fledged youngsters, plus more Lapland Longspurs.
So there it was, a mere few hours in town and I’d seen the main target of my entire trip, the one and only Spectacled Eider. With a smile upon my face, my next appointment was with the airline office – not a masochist for a return trip on the Dalton Highway, a gamble that would almost certainly have left me missing my flight back to Europe, out came my plastic friend and I duly booked a flight back to Anchorage for the next day …a whopping $460, Alaskan Airlines you are a rip off!
With business conducted and the surprise find of another three Spectacled Eiders on a pool next to the airport, I again teamed up with Richard for afternoon activities – an attempt to find Rock Ptarmigan on the tundra a few miles south of town. Didn’t find any, but a corking afternoon and evening it turned out to be. Pleasant sunshine, a riot of Arctic flowers, butterflies fluttering past and wildlife plentiful - Buff-breasted Sandpipers breeding on a gravel island, Stilt Sandpiper in a damp patch, a fantastic herd of Musk Ox gathered on a ridge with a lone Wolf loping along far beyond, highlight after highlight. Also Long-billed Dowitcher, Short-eared Owl and, while studying the fresh tracks of the Musk Ox, very fresh tracks of two other rather big beasties …Wolf and Grizzly Bear.
In the undulating tundra, pockmarked by ditches and channels, a careful eye was kept to avoid any potentially problematic encounters with furry predators, but nothing to mar the day, all critters perfectly behaved. By evening’s end, 10 p.m. and the sun still high (it was never going to set), I retired to my tent and reflected upon my trip, the long journey north certainly had been worthwhile. A Red Fox trotted by again, I presume the same individual as earlier in the day, Arctic Ground Squirrels chirped their alarms, I downed the zipper on my tent, I had earned an early night.
Yippee, journey’s end, Deadhorse directly ahead, I had made it! True to his word, my guy had picked me up at 6.30 a.m. and here we were, two hours later approaching the end of the road. A lone Musk Ox had welcomed us in, one Rough-legged Hawk too.
Deadhorse is not exactly a conventional birding locality – a semi-industrial complex of storage tanks, pipelines, porta cabins and heavy machinery interspersed by tundra carved out into glacial polygons and pools heaving with birds. Gaggles of geese traipsing along with masses of goslings, phalaropes oblivious to trucks rumbling past and Snow Buntings flitting down from assorted constructions. Oh yes, this is Deadhorse! But would the town reveal the jewel in the crown, the enigmatic Spectacled Eider?
After giving me a quick tour of the town and associated pools, my guy dropped me aside the Sag River, a soft patch of tundra soil the perfect location for my tent. One Red Fox trotting past, a Long-tailed Jaeger cruising overhead, Arctic Ground Squirrels in the embankment adjacent, a quick scan around revealing no sign of the plentiful Grizzly Bears that wander this wilderness, nor (I guess fortunately) Polar Bears that occur from time to time.
With tent up, it was time to begin the search, 12,000 km on the road and just one bird to go. I confess to being a little apprehensive, Spectacled Eiders traditionally depart these waters by early July, most returning to the open seas to moult, the breeders inland on inaccessible pools.
Past the first lake I walked, a pair of Tundra Swans on the far bank, Pacific Loons off to the side, a posse of Red-necked Phaloropes spinning away, and on I wandered. I paused to photograph an obliging Lapland Longspur and, as I did, a car pulled up. A birder! And a British birder at that – Richard Crossley, now based in the US. Well, he’d been in the area for a couple of days, so after pleasantries, the obvious question arose, ‘Any eiders lingering?’ Affirmative was the answer, quite good news. I ventured a second question, ‘Er, any Spectacled Eiders?’ A wry smile, then …another affirmative! Four birds had been on a pool the day before, but a little mobile. I didn’t care – if they were still in the area, I’d stay for however many days it took to find them!
Now this was one kind gent, he offered to drive me to the relevant pool, an offer I wasn’t about to turn down. Five minutes later, we were there. A treat for the eyes, perhaps 80 Red-necked Phalaropes were zipping about, a handful of Semi-palmated Sandpipers and Pectoral Sandpipers on the far bank and quite a number of White-fronted Geese and Pintail gathered too. Parasitic Jaegers zoomed over, Glaucous Gulls roamed with intent. Then a dark duck suddenly floated out into the pool – a lady of the clan to kick off the eider action, one very nice female King Eider. A few minutes later, while still admiring the first bird, round circled four more birds and plopped down aside. Spectacled Eiders!!! Oh yoy yoy, alongside each other, a king and the crown jewels, pretty amazing. No males, they’d long departed for the waters of the Arctic Ocean, but a couple of the females were wonderful ghosts of the males, the head pattern most pronounced. I settled down to see if I could get a photograph or two and, what nice birds they were, they paddled up through a channel and sailed right past me. Couldn’t get much better than that, Greater Roadrunner to Spectacled Eider, trip effectively over.
A stop on a larger pool nearby was also a treat – hordes of Long-tailed Ducks in fine plumage, rafts of Greater Scaups and several hundred White-fronted Geese and Cackling Geese, all trailing goslings by the dozen. In this highly sensitive oil town, security is a constant issue for the guards and it was not long before they spotted us – in town, you tend to get kicked off any site away from the roads, but even on the roads we received ‘special attention’, with luminous jackets offered to ensure the numerous trucks didn’t plough us down and personal traffic cones to set up behind us while birding! Around and about, Snow Buntings feeding fledged youngsters, plus more Lapland Longspurs.
So there it was, a mere few hours in town and I’d seen the main target of my entire trip, the one and only Spectacled Eider. With a smile upon my face, my next appointment was with the airline office – not a masochist for a return trip on the Dalton Highway, a gamble that would almost certainly have left me missing my flight back to Europe, out came my plastic friend and I duly booked a flight back to Anchorage for the next day …a whopping $460, Alaskan Airlines you are a rip off!
With business conducted and the surprise find of another three Spectacled Eiders on a pool next to the airport, I again teamed up with Richard for afternoon activities – an attempt to find Rock Ptarmigan on the tundra a few miles south of town. Didn’t find any, but a corking afternoon and evening it turned out to be. Pleasant sunshine, a riot of Arctic flowers, butterflies fluttering past and wildlife plentiful - Buff-breasted Sandpipers breeding on a gravel island, Stilt Sandpiper in a damp patch, a fantastic herd of Musk Ox gathered on a ridge with a lone Wolf loping along far beyond, highlight after highlight. Also Long-billed Dowitcher, Short-eared Owl and, while studying the fresh tracks of the Musk Ox, very fresh tracks of two other rather big beasties …Wolf and Grizzly Bear.
In the undulating tundra, pockmarked by ditches and channels, a careful eye was kept to avoid any potentially problematic encounters with furry predators, but nothing to mar the day, all critters perfectly behaved. By evening’s end, 10 p.m. and the sun still high (it was never going to set), I retired to my tent and reflected upon my trip, the long journey north certainly had been worthwhile. A Red Fox trotted by again, I presume the same individual as earlier in the day, Arctic Ground Squirrels chirped their alarms, I downed the zipper on my tent, I had earned an early night.
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michaelboustead
Well-known member
Farnboro John
Well-known member
I'm not really up to speed on Wolf taxonomy but I think you should probably be quite pleased at catching up with a Tundra Wolf. Me, I'd settle for any!
John
Yes indeed, up there photographing.
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snowyowl
Well-known member
Since he was that kind to you, I'm glad that I bought his book.:t:
20 July. Deadhorse.
Musk Ox had appeared during the night, two of the shaggy beasties standing across the river when I woke. Distinctively cool at dawn, a mere 4 C, but another sunny day in prospect, so donning my jumper for the first time on this trip, off I went for my morning’s explorations. A bunch of cute Baird’s Sandpiper chicks started things off, one concerned mother bird appearing in no time at all to shoo me off. Next came Spectacled Eiders, a splendid flock of seven being almost certainly the two smaller groups of the day before. Two King Eiders too, plus several Brants with chicks. Otherwise, not much new this morning, sat a while admiring Long-tailed Jaegers hovering above the tundra, enjoyed the Snow Buntings and Lapland Longspurs playing their role as Deadhorse sparrows and listened as Pacific Loons yodelled their mournful calls from pools surrounded by the juggernauts of the oil business.
Deadhorse had been good, but by early afternoon, it was time for me to take down my tent. Two Caribou strolled past, Arctic Ground Squirrels sounded their alarms as I packed up and, as I walked to the airport, it was Red-necked Phalaropes all the way, Glaucous Gulls floating through the skies and Tundra Swans on a pool opposite.
At 5.00 p.m., we took to the skies, circling out over the broken ice-pack of the Arctic Ocean for a short flight up to Barrow, the northern most tip of Alaska. I did originally have ideas of stopping here for a couple of days, Spectacled Eider being fairly reliable at this locality too, as well as Snowy Owls and Yellow-billed Loons, but instead I had a mere 30 minutes. It was then back into the air for the two-hour flight to Anchorage, the major part of my trip now over.
Musk Ox had appeared during the night, two of the shaggy beasties standing across the river when I woke. Distinctively cool at dawn, a mere 4 C, but another sunny day in prospect, so donning my jumper for the first time on this trip, off I went for my morning’s explorations. A bunch of cute Baird’s Sandpiper chicks started things off, one concerned mother bird appearing in no time at all to shoo me off. Next came Spectacled Eiders, a splendid flock of seven being almost certainly the two smaller groups of the day before. Two King Eiders too, plus several Brants with chicks. Otherwise, not much new this morning, sat a while admiring Long-tailed Jaegers hovering above the tundra, enjoyed the Snow Buntings and Lapland Longspurs playing their role as Deadhorse sparrows and listened as Pacific Loons yodelled their mournful calls from pools surrounded by the juggernauts of the oil business.
Deadhorse had been good, but by early afternoon, it was time for me to take down my tent. Two Caribou strolled past, Arctic Ground Squirrels sounded their alarms as I packed up and, as I walked to the airport, it was Red-necked Phalaropes all the way, Glaucous Gulls floating through the skies and Tundra Swans on a pool opposite.
At 5.00 p.m., we took to the skies, circling out over the broken ice-pack of the Arctic Ocean for a short flight up to Barrow, the northern most tip of Alaska. I did originally have ideas of stopping here for a couple of days, Spectacled Eider being fairly reliable at this locality too, as well as Snowy Owls and Yellow-billed Loons, but instead I had a mere 30 minutes. It was then back into the air for the two-hour flight to Anchorage, the major part of my trip now over.
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MKinHK
Mike Kilburn
That's the most bairdy Baird's Sand I've ever seen - especially super fine bill and ultra long primaries.
Any pix of the Musk Ox?
Congratulations on the Speccies - a fine climax to another epic trip. Absolutely no chance of one of those beauties swanning by the bedroom window!
Ever since you mentioned it I've been wondering why it was ok to see Grizzlies from the road but not off it. My best guess is that the rangers in Denali have discovered they don't like grit in their food. I'd be interested in the real reason.
Looking forward to part Two.
Cheers
Mike
Any pix of the Musk Ox?
Congratulations on the Speccies - a fine climax to another epic trip. Absolutely no chance of one of those beauties swanning by the bedroom window!
Ever since you mentioned it I've been wondering why it was ok to see Grizzlies from the road but not off it. My best guess is that the rangers in Denali have discovered they don't like grit in their food. I'd be interested in the real reason.
Looking forward to part Two.
Cheers
Mike
Across virtually all Denali, you are permitted to wander wherever you want, and indeed if trekking you are encouraged not to follow any particular routes, but to make your own way (this is both to foster a greater experience of the wilderness and to prevent trampling of the tundra). To this end, there are almost no established trails (only a few at the entrance gate area).
However, there are a few areas 'closed' to the public - the main one is the Sable Pass area, this is not to protect tourists, but the area is deemed prime Grizzly habitat and the closure is to protect bears from disturbance. To this end, walking through this area is permitted on the road, but not off. Other areas closed are usually temporary closures - for example zones around nests of active Gyr Falcons and Golden Eagles, plus immediate areas around any reported wolf or bear kills (this being the only closure being designed to protect humans, as opposed to wildlife).
Most tourists do not leave the shuttle buses however, so as soon as you wander a few metres from the road, you are in wild wilderness. From my brief visit, I would give the national park full marks for the system set up - a wise move to ban private cars.
Customer Service, Alaska Airlines!
Across much of the globe I have travelled, rarely does something totally leave me in shock. 'Congratulations' to Bob in the Deadhorse/Prudhoe Bay airport for doing so!
Checking in at the tiny airport, the Alaskan Airlines desk was manned by the seemingly very amiable Bob. Mentioning I had been thinking of stopping over at Barrow (a Native Alaskan settlement), Bob's response was "Just as well you're not, the Natives would kidnap you and hold you on the peninsula". That seemed an odd kind of joke I thought, Natives Alaskans not only account for a significant proportion of Alaskan Airlines' business, but are not known for kidnapping wayward tourists.
What was to follow however just left me dumbfounded! As I handed it over my passport, Bob took one look at the cover and the following conversation took place:
"So where are you from?", he asked.
"Britain" I replied.
A nod from Bob, then "You're not a Muslim are you?"
"Er?", said I, actually totally unexpecting this question.
Without a blink or waiting for my answer, he continued...
"Because Muslims should be wiped off the face of this Earth. You're not a Muslim are you?"
At this point, I have to say I was standing in total belief and simply answered "No".
"Good, because if you were I would have you arrested for something you probably didn't do".
I think my mouth was probably wide open at this stage and it was clear Bob wasn't making some weird joke, but serious. Totally amazing, an official working at check-in at an airport making such comments!
Regaining composure, I took my passport, then challenged him and asked why exactly he had made such comments, both racial against Native Alaskan and religious. With a mocking expression he responded "Oh, are you offended, let me rephrase my comments".
At which point, I cut him off and verbally laid into to him, most of the tiny airport listening in. Pointing out it was difficult to rephrase an expression saying all Muslims should be killed, I told him exactly what I thought of someone making such comments, especially someone representing the public face of an airline and working in a public position. An apology of sorts, then he retreated into an office behind, immediately starting to laugh with a colleague in there. I was livid at this point and marched into the office to 'continue' our conversation.
He declined to give his full name, but as the only Bob in the Deadhorse office, this was sufficient to identify him. So if anybody is passing through Deadhorse in the near future, say hi to him from me and tell him he is a total arsehole!
Spent the flight to Anchorage writing a carefully crafted letter of complaint to Alaskan Airlines and for added good measure found the Alaskan Airlines office in Anchorage to ask their opinion of Bob and his public expressions of racial and religious intolerance.
To the credit of Alaskan Airlines, both Anchorage office and via e-mail response, they clarified there was a zero tolerance of such discriminatory language and, accepting that they could not actually prove his conduct, that he would be spoken to and my complaints logged.
Totally pissed me off for a couple of days this experience, the only moment I did enjoy however being the final passport control when entering the aircraft. There was Bob again. He carefully avoided eye contact this time, but as I passed him my passport, it was my turn to make a comment: "Passport", I said, "have a look at pages 6 and 8, Iranian stamps there, I'm sure you're like those".
No comment from Bob. Surprise, surprise, arriving in Anchorage, a note inside my baggage said it had been searched.
Across much of the globe I have travelled, rarely does something totally leave me in shock. 'Congratulations' to Bob in the Deadhorse/Prudhoe Bay airport for doing so!
Checking in at the tiny airport, the Alaskan Airlines desk was manned by the seemingly very amiable Bob. Mentioning I had been thinking of stopping over at Barrow (a Native Alaskan settlement), Bob's response was "Just as well you're not, the Natives would kidnap you and hold you on the peninsula". That seemed an odd kind of joke I thought, Natives Alaskans not only account for a significant proportion of Alaskan Airlines' business, but are not known for kidnapping wayward tourists.
What was to follow however just left me dumbfounded! As I handed it over my passport, Bob took one look at the cover and the following conversation took place:
"So where are you from?", he asked.
"Britain" I replied.
A nod from Bob, then "You're not a Muslim are you?"
"Er?", said I, actually totally unexpecting this question.
Without a blink or waiting for my answer, he continued...
"Because Muslims should be wiped off the face of this Earth. You're not a Muslim are you?"
At this point, I have to say I was standing in total belief and simply answered "No".
"Good, because if you were I would have you arrested for something you probably didn't do".
I think my mouth was probably wide open at this stage and it was clear Bob wasn't making some weird joke, but serious. Totally amazing, an official working at check-in at an airport making such comments!
Regaining composure, I took my passport, then challenged him and asked why exactly he had made such comments, both racial against Native Alaskan and religious. With a mocking expression he responded "Oh, are you offended, let me rephrase my comments".
At which point, I cut him off and verbally laid into to him, most of the tiny airport listening in. Pointing out it was difficult to rephrase an expression saying all Muslims should be killed, I told him exactly what I thought of someone making such comments, especially someone representing the public face of an airline and working in a public position. An apology of sorts, then he retreated into an office behind, immediately starting to laugh with a colleague in there. I was livid at this point and marched into the office to 'continue' our conversation.
He declined to give his full name, but as the only Bob in the Deadhorse office, this was sufficient to identify him. So if anybody is passing through Deadhorse in the near future, say hi to him from me and tell him he is a total arsehole!
Spent the flight to Anchorage writing a carefully crafted letter of complaint to Alaskan Airlines and for added good measure found the Alaskan Airlines office in Anchorage to ask their opinion of Bob and his public expressions of racial and religious intolerance.
To the credit of Alaskan Airlines, both Anchorage office and via e-mail response, they clarified there was a zero tolerance of such discriminatory language and, accepting that they could not actually prove his conduct, that he would be spoken to and my complaints logged.
Totally pissed me off for a couple of days this experience, the only moment I did enjoy however being the final passport control when entering the aircraft. There was Bob again. He carefully avoided eye contact this time, but as I passed him my passport, it was my turn to make a comment: "Passport", I said, "have a look at pages 6 and 8, Iranian stamps there, I'm sure you're like those".
No comment from Bob. Surprise, surprise, arriving in Anchorage, a note inside my baggage said it had been searched.
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