Alaska Part Two - Alyeska

Bush flying was just the beginning of a twelve hour odyssey to experience as much of Alaska as possible. I had driven straight to Merrill Field from work and still wore slacks and an Oxford. It was time to change clothes back at the hotel before embarking on phase two.

My clients had been happy to suggest "things to do" in and around  Anchorage. Most of them involved sightseeing and hikes along the Seward Highway. My bush flight traced the Knik Arm waterway extending northeast out of Anchorage on the north slope of Chugach mountains. The Seward is a coastal highway along the Turnagain Arm that bisects the Chugach range to the southeast. The Knik and Turnagain Arms both emerge eastward from Cook Inlet at Anchorage.

There are numerous interesting and scenic stops along highway including Potter Marsh Bird Sanctuary, Beluga Point Lookout (for whale-spotting the aforementioned), and Windy Point. The drive alone offers jaw-dropping scenery nowhere to be found in the lower forty-eight. I offer evidence of this in part three of this log.

I was most curious to witness the bore tide. The Turnagain Arm experiences one of largest tides in the world, up to forty feet, second only to the Bay of Fundy in North America. During certain moon phases the incoming tide can form a continuous 6-10 foot tall wave that rolls for miles along of the estuary. Kayakers and surfers often ride the wave, and sightseers find it prime time to spot Beluga whales and harbor seals behind the tide. (more here on the bore - http://www.alaska.org/advice/alaska-bore-tide). Alas I was too late time-wise and too early moon phase-wise to experience the wonder.

 
I drove southward deftly attempting to divide my attention between the road and this visual Mecca, destination Girdwood and the Aleyeska Resort. As I turned off Seward Highway a faint rainbow appeared in the pass and my deftness became skewed, which is to say I nearly ran off the road. Tragedy averted, I wandered through Girdwood and toward the resort.

Aleyeska is the largest ski resort in Alaska, though being August in the Kenai Peninsula not a snowflake was to be found on the steep ski trails. Instead the mountainside offers beautiful hiking. Locals had recommended the North Slope Trail which rises 2300 feet over 2.2 miles. The top mile of the trail crisis-crosses beneath a colorful, glassed tram that ascends from the 300-room hotel to a mountaintop terminal featuring a snack bar and the 4-star Seven Glaciers restaurant.

My watch showed 5pm as I turned into the resort parking lot. The hike looked doubtful as there was a light drizzle falling through the broken overcast. I walked to the tram base station to purchase a ticket and could see the upper terminal high on the slope. Not wanting to fork over for a pricey ticket and realizing daylight would remain at this latitude until well past nine, I set off for the trailhead. 

I enjoyed relatively easy walking at first, but started to second guess my decision as the light drizzle turned to steady rain and the temperature dropped. Visions of tomorrow’s news danced in my head, “Another stupid tourist succumbs to hypothermia.” I continued on.

The sun reappeared between the clouds and another rainbow rose high above a glacier in the east. This time I could stop to admire it without totaling my rental car. A mountain spring bubbled beside the trail and wild flowers rimmed its edges (Debbie, I wish your were there to name them all). The trail steepened, I needed to take frequent rests, and sweat soaked through my shirt.

After an hour I stepped into the upper terminal. The snack shop wasn't going to do, I was starving. I ascended a carpeted staircase to the Seven Glaciers and ambled to the hostess station in my soggy blue jeans and sweaty shirt, "One for dinner...?"

The hostess replied the dining room was full though I could plainly see it was half empty; those inside were in jackets and evening attire. She offered to seat me in the bar lounge where they serve the same menu. You bet.

The meal did not disappoint, king crab cakes and a filet, but of equal delight was the sun’s illumination casting red and golden hues throughout the room, a photographers dream. I attempted to discretely snap photos of guest’s reflections in this magical light but soon tucked the camera away. This was not a wedding.

As the sun began its slumber behind the western ridges I stepped reluctantly into the tram. If you hike up the mountain the ride down is free, a good thing as my pockets were bare after the four star dinner. I needed to hustle. My redeye home was leaving in just a few hours.