I will not itch.
I will not itch
I will not itch

Monsters. Nuisance. Hungry blood suckers. All thoughts that went through my mind tonight as I dipped and dove, shimmied and shook in a constant flux of motion making every attempt to evade these aggressive predators. They have invaded Alaska and they bring with them a mighty thirst for human flesh.

Oh no my friends. I am not talking about bears, wolves, or moose. Oh my. This is much, much, much, worse. I am talking about Alaska’s state bird. That of the evil mosquito. One’s worst nightmare for those of us that forget their bug dope while out on a photography shoot this evening and as a result was left completely at their mercy. However they were unmerciful. Afterwards with white bumps rising on my skin I surrendered myself to the mosquito mantra in its constant song of “I will not itch.” Trying so desperate and failing.

Despite my unknown journey into the mosquito world, tonight’s indulgence for me ended up being going on a “waterfall hunt” and seeking out my next shot. Shooting waterflow has always been a particular interest of mine and one I take joy in. So when I heard of an unknown waterfall that I had yet to discover or heard of here in the Southcentral area, I jumped at the chance and went off in search of it. I knew the general area of its location but not an exact one. I simply filled my car up with gas and started driving.

As I reached the road I quickly hit my odomter to read zero as I waited it for to climb for that magical number of mile 1.2. No sooner had it just ticked past it when I saw the sign. “Pioneer Falls” with an arrow. I looked to my right and all I could see were houses. Waterfall? Where? Was it like that invisible pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and would only appear to a select few? I pulled down the road a bit further and swung a u-turn and attempted once more to hunt my prey. As I neared the sign again I slowed to a crawl and craned my neck trying to look for this mysterious place. Finally I caught a glimpse of it out my eye and I looked for a place to park. No where to pull off. So once again I pulled another u-turn further up and again approached at another crawl.

I’m always vary wary of respecting people’s rights when it comes to their property and will never trespass. And given there were homes around this area I finally found a place wedged up against the foot of a tree directly of across from all things - a mocha stand. 45 miles out in the middle of nowhere. You can hunt for a treasure trove of a waterfall and have coffee at the same time. Only in Alaska!

In the end I ended up hiking back a short ways to Pioneer Falls and began to take a series of shots. Given its size it was difficult to capture it in one frame. But in the end, it was a relaxing few hours of landscape photography and I met my challenge for the evening.

At the mercy of the mosquito mob.

Pioneer Falls
Southcentral Alaska

Fellow photographers are sometimes amusing to me in that there are times they seem to want to protect their “turf”.  Much like that fisherman that won’t tell you where their uber-secret fishing hole is, I have run into fellow wildlife and nature photographers that won’t share a particular location with me.  Whether it’s from fear that I may be able to get a similar shot or just because it remains their secret. 

I have yet to determine which, but can wholly understand those protective measures.  I’m the same way when it comes to my secret waterfall spot in Girdwood and will share it with very few.  If your mind is conveying images of me with my arms wrapped around those falls while taking a lesson from the gulls in “Finding Nemo” (Mine! Mine! Mine!) you would pretty much be correct.

Some time back I happened to come across a photo of a waterfall that is north of Anchorage.  Now living in the area I admit it was a series of falls I have never seen, much less heard of.  So when I asked where it was my fellow growly bear photographer just shook his head and muttered “Murfphoiws” which I took to be photography speak for, “You think I’m telling you?  Not on your life woman!”.  So after a few more times the stubborn streak that exists in me came to the forefront with a loud “Humph!” as I proclaimed I would find it myself.

Low and behold not two nights ago I was pouring over the Milepost and came across a small wee mention of it in the very back page of one of the descriptions of a side road and its mile markers.

If Mother Nature cooperates and weather remains somewhat on my side, I think tonight shall indeed be the night I go waterfall hunting.

There is a longstanding joke when it comes to Alaska that we only have two seasons.  Those being winter and road construction.  And when I hear that I can grin and nod in knowing it is pretty much true, when it comes to Mother Nature and that of wildlife, one of those seasons can be pretty much determined by the happenings in the news.
 
In this case news coming forward of a black bear stalking people on a hiking trail above McHugh Creek.  Just like when I was down in that same location last week a grizzly sow and her two cubs had been sighted in the upper parking lot.  Or the fact this morning it was reported on a local outdoors group that there has been numerous bear sightings the last week on the Winner Creek Trail in Girdwood. 

It doesn’t matter the location but the reality is given this time of year it is bound to happen.  No matter where you are you have to watch for the signs.  Those times when the moose calves are being born and as a result bear activity increases. 

It’s a perfect time to reeducate yourself on what to do should a situation or encounter arise. 

Above all do not come between a newborn animal and their mother.  Whether it is a bear, moose, sheep, or even musk ox.  There is bound to be trouble if you do.  If you are out hiking and come across such a sighting, slowly back away.  Do NOT run. 

What one’s actions should reflect in the event they run into a black bear or a brown bear are two totally separate things.

For brown bear encounters if the obvious backing away and speaking in a soothing voice does not work and you are charged, fall to the ground and make yourself as small as possible.  Do the exact opposite should you encounter a black bear.  Make yourself as large as possible.  Scream and wave.  Take off your jacket and make noise.

So do bear bells help?  Well in my opinion no they do not.  I think they act as a safety mechanism in the mind of the individual only.  They are not fool proof.  You will have just as much luck making noise in the woods as you would with bear bells.  The reality is if you spend time outside, you are likely to encounter a bear. Above all try not to hike alone and avoid areas with overgrown brush if at all possible.

Be aware and bear conscious.  Encountering a bear on a trail is not the end to ones day.  But merely a reality of living in Alaska.

Be safe!

Having a bout of insomnia hit this morning at 3:00 a.m. by the hands (beaks!) of honking Canada Geese. is not something I necessarily mind. I just laid awake and listen to them go at it. “Honk! Honk! Honk! HONK!”

Finally realizing how close they sounded I got up to look out my bedroom window only to find in excess of 3 dozen of them sitting on the roofline of the building next door to me. Then out of the corner of my eye I caught movement in the trees in my backyard. I turned quickly and what do I see. A mother moose with 3 newborn moose calves. What a way to start the day.

I love Alaska!

Something to live for, something to dream.  These are words that have reverberated through me as of late.  Often times in all my years here in the vast rugged lands of the North, I find myself wanting to follow the old trails woven through its history.  To experience its inner reaches and resources and hear what it tells me.  Yet, like most people that come here to Alaska, I too am limited by the mighty buck and because of this I make do with what I can.  Traveling and experiencing only when my bank account allows me too and gas prices don’t tether me or tie me down to one place.

There is perhaps one dream I have had over the years and that was to visit the wild lands of Katmai National Park and walk amongst the bears.  It has been several years in planning and it was only this year through a series of what we shall call flukes that this opportunity came before me.  Rather than live in the constant of “coulda, woulda, shoulda”, I found myself booking the tour and waiting.  Sometimes impatiently while other times in disbelief.  The fact that this is finally happening doesn’t seem real to me.  The fact that this trip is now less than three weeks away is what carries me through the days.  Yet I hesitate.  Looking around and wondering, is it real?  Is it truly going to happen?

I can’t say that there has been careful preparation or meticulous attention to detail like most of my trips hold.  Rather I find myself just living in the minute.  Though I had planned on upgrading my camera equipment, I watched as the dream of a telephoto lens slipped beyond my lens within the past few weeks.  I was going to make do with what I had but then it hit me last nght.  I was going all out for this trip so why shouldn’t I reach beyond my means a bit more?  Even if it means bringing a sack lunch to work for those few extra weeks. So last night with the 500mm lens still beyond my grasp due to manufacturer availability (or unavailability in this case), I ended up ordering a different lens.  One I had been eyeing for awhile and one that is fairly new to the market.  In fact when I tought about ordering it several months ago, I found out that Sony had not even realized it.  So I began to look for alternatives.  Imagine my surprise to find out only a few short days ago that it was now available. And when I mentioned it in passing this weekend, a very wise person told me something his father used to share with him.  So with my hands trembling over the mouse last night, my order was processed and now I’m waiting for my new 750mm lens to ship.  It should be here by Friday with just enough time before my trip to become familiar with it.Interestingly enough this summer seems to be taking on a focus and theme of living the dream. 

And that dream has continued to be simply Living Alaska and what she offers.  I decided not to limit myself by time or seasons, but rather experience what is offered to me then and there.  So last night I pulled out my Milepost and began to plan once more.  There is so much to see and do this summer, but I think I have it narrowed down into what will be truly manageable, including my fall trip.

June:  Katmai National Park, Homer, Seldovia
July: McCarthy and Kennicott including hiking Root Glacier, Homer, Halibut Cove

And one cannot possibly mention August to me without visions of my fall trip dancing in my head.  Right now it tops out of 8-9 days.  But my tentative schedule includes:

Day 1:  Anchorage to Valdez; overnight in Valdez
Day 2: Stans Stephens Columbia Glacier Cruise (which I was rained out of last year), overnight in Valdez
Day 3:  Valdez to Paxson in which I will do a rafting float trip and then drive part of the Denali Highway.  Overnight in Paxson.
Day 4:  Paxson to Delta and up to Fairbanks.  Overnight in Fairbanks.
Day 5: See Fairbanks.  Road trips to Chena Hot Springs and perhaps Manley Hot Springs.  Overnight in Fairbanks.
Day 6:  Fairbanks to Denali National Park.  Overnight in Denali.
Day 7: Bus Tour into Denali.  Overnight in Denali.
Day 8: Denali to Anchorage

But even with this, I still hear Glacier Bay National Park and the Arctic Circle calling me.  So much to see, so much to experience. Obviously Alaska has woven her spell on me once more.

With over 589,400 square miles and 33,000 miles of coastline, lets face it — Alaska is a big state and in fact the largest in the union.  And though our road system doesn’t reach every spectrum of these vast lands, there is still so much to see and experience while on the road.  But because of the size of Alaska, I am often asked by people what are the best possible resources when it comes to trip planning and getting out and seeing Alaska. 

There are of course two things that come to mind.  One is considered the road “bible” for Alaska - i.e. the Milepost.  The Milepost has been around for many years and is published on an annual basis.  It is a guide to the highways and roads of Alaska and includes a detailed breakout of Alaska’s roads including lodging, recreational opportunities, attractions and services along every corridor. Quite frankly it is something that I am never without.  Nor is it uncommon for me to pull out my Milepost just for reading purposes.  It was essential to me in planning my 2,000 mile road trip around Alaska last fall and will be even more instrumental in my travel this summer. 

Perhaps another strong resource is one that I only recently discovered while on a drive.  I happened to go to the Musk Ox Farm out in Palmer and while waiting for my tour to begin, my eyes caught on a series of visitors guides.  Published by an independent company here in Anchorage, the Bearfoot Travel Guides are broken down into different locations and are free for your chosing. One focuses on Eastern Alaska including the Glenn and Richardson Highways.  The second focuses on Interior Alaska with an in-depth exploration of the Parks Highway and Denali National Park, while the third focuses on Southcentral Alaska including Anchorage and the Kenai Peninsula.  Their website is chock full of information including maps, community spotlights, and local businesses.Whether you are traveling for just a few short days or several weeks, these guides will assist in your journey to experiencing the Great Land.

Though I have always been one that believes there is a spirit in the land in which we live, I think a large portion of that comes from the people that share and live there on a daily basis. From the earliest occupants to today’s thriving communities. Alaska has long held a fascinating history whose stories are woven in the gold rush to early explorers. However, it is the earliest settlers that predates the Russian influences that have long held my interest and fascination.

Known by some as the “Inuit”, they are the ones the indigenous people that have long inhabited the Arctic regions of Alaska, Canada, Greenland and the Northwest Territories. Many would argue the fact of simply trying to label all these enriched cultures and individuals under one synonym. In my minds eye they are what makes Alaska unique. They are the Yup’ik, Inupiaq, Alutiiq, Athabascan, Eyak, Tlingit and more. Each with their own diverse culture, heritage and beliefs. Each lending to Alaska’s thriving diversity that we are known for.

On a cloudy day that threatened rain, I found myself at the forefront of celebrating and learning about each of these cultures by spending an afternoon at the Alaska Native Heritage Center; whose mission is to present and help preserve the cultures that make Alaska unique. Though I have lived here in Alaska for over 30 years and have been in the attendance at the center often for events not related to its mission, I wholly admit that I have never really have spent time there like I should have. I’ve never stopped to explore its exhibits or watched its presentations. And it was only after attending yesterday that I realize how much I have truly missed.

The center itself is situated on the Northeast end of Anchorage amongst acreage of birch trees. Nestled among the trees in a serene setting, the center rises up from its aesthetic foundation to become a place that introduces visitors and residents alike to Native traditions and customs through workshops, demonstrations and guided tours of both indoor exhibits and outdoor village sites. Between the presentations or the outdoor village sites, I would have difficulty in determining which exactly was my favorite. In fact I enjoyed everything I saw and experienced yesterday.

After we walked through the entry way after being greeted by a towering raven sculture signifying new beginnings and creation, we attended our first presentation of the afternoon to another subject close to my heart. I.e. native drumming and the various types of drums. I can remember as a youth for the short time we lived in Las Vegas my deep fascination and interest with the pow wows and the drumming and dancing. So it is really no surprise that that interest has continued as I have aged and if I see a an event that allows one to experience the deep throaty calls of the drums and the energy of its dancers, it is very likely an event I would be in attendance at. Afterwards we stepped outside to walk among the outdoor village sites. Each of these sites are nestled around a small lake and each holds a scaled down replica of the housing of its tribe or even other items that one would use in their daily life. I saw everything from a food cache to a full grey whale skeleton. My favorite however was the gathering house of the Haida tribe. The moment I stepped through the doors I was greeted with the rich smell of cedar (one of my favorites) and could feel the warmth emitted from its walls.

Small houses averaged 20 by 30 feet and were occupied by thirty to forty closely related family members, while large houses were up to 50 by 60 feet with twice as many residents, including immediate family and slaves. The ideal house had a large pit in the central area, often lined with a vertical box structure of massive planks. The hearth occupied the centre, directly under a smokehole, which had a plank flap that could be moved with ropes to control the draft for the fire. Usually the house of the town chief had the largest or deepest housepit. The roofs of houses belonging to people of rank were covered with overlapping planks, anchored in placed with large rocks. The houses of poorer people and canoe sheds had roofs of cedar bark that had to be replaced frequently.

What was particularly amazing to me was even though the housepit was not in use, I felt like I was stepping into a sauna with the heat radiating and flowing in me. It was that solidly constructed and I could have spent a great amount of time there. But alas we continued on and once again found ourselves inside watching another native dancing presentation of the Yup’ik and then another presentation on the native youth olympics and its events before exiting the center for the afternoon.

Whether visitor or resident alike, the Alaska Native Heritage Center indeed offers a wonderful tribute to the people of Alaska and their customs and beliefs. A location that I will definitely be visiting again in the all too near future.

Quyana!

“… from these honored dead, we take increased devotion
to that cause for which they here gave the last
full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve
these dead shall not have died in vain…” ~Abraham Lincoln

History teaches us that that our faith is our freedom and our resolve to defend it is what makes this country what it is. We live in a land of forgotten faces with its haunting melodies carrying the stories of our heroes.

We are indeed honored with this day as a celebration of our forebearers and those that lost their lives at the the hands of defending this sovereign nation. But alas, how many of us truly remember the meaning of this great day?

Being raised in a family who have dedicated their life to the service of this great nation, I was raised never to forget. But to give thanks. I held close to my heart the memories of those that have passed before us. For I know from the shores of the Normandy Beach to Iraq, they deserve the honor and respect. Our young men and women have fought, died, and POWs have been tortured and maimed in order to defend the rights and freedoms of this great nation.

It is a freedom I hold close to my heart, for I know within the next whispered breath it could be gone. One that I must never take for granted.

They went not for conquest and not for gain,
but only to protect the anguished and the innocent.
They suffered greatly and by their heroism
in a thousand forgotten battles they added a
lustor to the codes we hold most dear:
duty, honor, country, fidelity, bravery and integrity.

So on this day I remember them, beneath the blanket of freedom they bequethed to us. It is a song; their song. They are the forgotten heroes. They are the ones that committed the most selfless act of all.

Cedar Pole
Alaska Native Heritage Center, Anchorage