Alaska: Part Two

Air travel is both amazing and exhausting. At 6:20am central time, we left Kansas City for our first short flight to Chicago. After a two hour layover, we boarded another jet for the 4 hour flight to Seattle. Three hours later, we were in the air again, stopping at the entrance of the Alaskan inner passage in Ketchikan. Air commuters got off, then more came on, and then we were up again- only to land again a half hour later in Sitka. More people got off, and then more came on, and then then we were in the air again for another 25 minutes. The view out the window was stunning with endless miles of snowy peaks to our right, and the Alaskan inner passage below. To our left, over the peaks obscuring our view, the Pacific Ocean lay beyond. We finally touched down around 7:30pm in Juneau. That's 7:30pm ALASKAN time (which is a difference of 3 hours). From the time we boarded the first plane, until the time we walked off the aircraft in Juneau, we were in the air or in airports for over 15 hours. We walked up the skyway and everyone was sore and tired as we grabbed our gear off the conveyor belt and loaded it into a waiting van for the short ride to the Juneau Super 8 Motel. It was now after 8pm, but still very sunny. We were told by the driver that the sun usually sets in Juneau this time of the year around 11:30pm- only to rise back up again at 2:30am. I barricaded the window of our room with the comforter off my bed, drank a couple of beers and shared a sandwich with Nate before collapsing into unconsciousness. I had been awake for almost 24 hours straight. Although I immediately fell asleep, it seemed like only a few minutes before Nate's alarm went off, and we were up again, reloading our bags and heading back to the airport for our flight to Haines, Alaska.

When we arrived back at the Juneau International Airport, Nate pointed out the window to the tarmac where our next plane awaited us. It was a 6-seat Piper Cub. Our luggage took up the entire rear, and the back two seats of the aircraft. A Piper Cub is the equivalent of a Volkswagon Bug with wings. Its the type of plane I've seen hundreds of times on TV, but never dreamed I would actually climb into. Due to the lack of space, Ike volunteered to wait behind and take a second Cub, who's cargo consisted of the pilot, our venerable bearded band leader, and the town of Haines' daily mail delivery. We were taken out onto the tarmac by our pilot, Jody, and after securing us in our seats, this friendly veteran flyer put us at ease immediately with a few jokes regarding his impending license "reinstatement" and a few instructions on the safety features of the aircraft. Without much more preparation, the bug with wings was speeding down the runway. Just before we ran out of pavement, Jody pulled back on the controls and we lifted up into the sky. Almost immediately, I was struck not by fear, but by awe. I've always been a reluctant flyer and consider air travel a claustrophobic experience endured only out of necessity. But this was something very different. Nate and I sat in the back, me behind Jody, and Nate behind our acting co-pilot, Betse. As we climbed above the city of Juneau, we were treated to a 260 degree close-up view of the surrounding mountains and inner passage below.

Jody pointed out (unnecissarily) some sights of particular interest, and we shouted our approval over the roar of the Piper's engine. Regular readers of this blog know that I am the ultimate armchair geology geek. So you can imagine my delight as I drank in the scenery all around me. Snow-covered 10,000 -15,000 foot peaks stretched to the east as far as I could see. Intermittently as we flew, a giant glacier field would appear and, although I had studied them in college, I was unprepared to see the real thing from such an advantageous vantage point. Cody told us that these glaciers were all connected to the gigantic Juneau ice sheet, and had been scouring these mountain valleys for over 5000 years- since before the recession of the last ice age. He also pointed out that the ice was thousands of feet thick toward the center, and moving at a rate between 20 and 100 feet per day. From above, the ice appeared an intense florescent blue in places, and stripes of mountain gravel scrapings were visible in parallel bands indicating both their direction of movement, and astonishingly efficient and powerful erosional power. At one point in my revery, I looked over at Nate and said, "Dude, I am SO glad I quit my job!"

The flight was over way too soon, and as we slowed and approached the Haynes, Alaska airstrip, Jody set our bug down as easy as pulling into a parking lot. The runway was situated right next to an extremely large drainage of shallow water to our left, and, as we slowed, I spotted a bald eagle resting on a tree stump 100 yards away. Apparently, Haines has one of the largest populations of bald eagles anywhere in the world, and is literally overrun with them in the fall. Once we got all our junk out of his plane, we posed for a few pictures with our pilot, and gave Jody a copy of "Throw Down" so he could hear what we do for a living. A few minutes later, our hosts from the Yukon Territory pulled up in two vans. After introductions were made, we loaded our stuff up for the drive across the Canadian border to Haines Junction. Ike's plane landed soon after, and we all jumped into the vans for a trip into town for a delicious meal of salmon eggs benedict. We stuffed ourselves silly, and then it was off to the minivan with our driver/tour guide, Gordon.

After crossing the Canadian border, we began to climb in altitude, stopping at the summit of a mountain pass for a snowball fight and a few pictures. Gordon stopped a few more times on the way- one for a photo opportunity at the Yukon border, and again, at a beautiful park called Million Dollar Falls. We stretched our legs with a short trail walk, and, as we neared our destination, the sound of the falls grew louder and louder with each step. The snow in the peaks all around us was rapidly melting in the June sun, and gravity dictated that it would flow downhill- seeking the shortest path to the river below. In the case of Million Dollar Falls, that path was through a narrow canyon. We walked down a wooden staircase and felt the mist from the falls moistening the air just before seeing water, turbulently rushing down the canyon at a velocity that was hard to imagine without seeing it for ourselves. We paused for a few more pictures, and then walked back up to the parking area where we shared a local Yukon beer before climbing back into the van. Rarely do have the luxury of this kind of travel, and we relished the opportunity to actually see the sights of the country as we moved through it. Another hour or so passed before we reached the city limits of Haines Junction. It was about 2pm, and, after almost two days of travel, and only a few precious hours of rest, we had finally arrived at our first festival destination of the tour.