AMAZING ALASKAN ADVENTURES

AMAZING ALASKAN ADVENTURES 08/07/12 By Larry Delano Coleman, Esq. We descended into the grim, low-hanging clouds of Juneau, Alaska, the state capital of our 49th state, in July 1994, from Seattle, Washington, aboard Alaska Airlines. Happily, a water-lined, mountain-bound town appeared beneath the clouds, rustic in simplicity, yet shrouded in mystery. We--my wife, Lyla, and our three sons: Andre, Imhotep, and Kemet-- had just attended the week-long National Bar Association Convention in Seattle. Alaska was that year’s final destination of an annual family vacation that had began with an overland journey—via Interstate Highway 70—in our 1994 Dodge Ram van, from Kansas City, Missouri, through Colorado, where we spent the night; through Utah, so richly red, brown and rugged, and Las Vegas, Nevada, where we spent another night. The next day, we arrived in Santa Ana, California, our first “must-see” destination to visit a rare, ancient Nubian exhibition temporarily housed there in a museum. From Santa Ana, we drove north to Los Angeles to visit relatives and friends and for rest and rejuvenation. The next day, we traveled up Interstate Highway 5 to San Francisco for dinner on the Fisherman’s Wharf. After dinner, we pushed north until we eventually found a motel in northern California, without “a hole in the wall”, local argot for something we’d rather not know! Stopping to admire Redwoods National Forest’s multiple features, including driving through and under a giant redwood, on the road, we soon experienced the arboreal mystery of day-turn-to-night, amid the densely layered sequoias’ darkness. Returning to daylight, we meandered on up Pacific Highway 1, along the relentless Pacific Ocean past Oregon’s rocky ledges, and primeval plainness back to Highway 5, and on to Seattle. After enjoying the beautiful City of Seattle, where we watched the premier of “Forest Gump,” enjoyed a novelty, Starbucks Coffee; and having fulfilled our convention duties, we flew into Juneau, totally clueless as to what lay ahead. Our plan was to rent a van in Juneau, then to drive to Fairbanks, then to Anchorage, thence back to Juneau on back to the lower 48 states. Our first shock was to discover that no roads led out of Juneau! What? The inter-coastal highway that appeared on the map was just a watery fjord, not the concrete pavement we had assumed it to be. Whoa boy! What's next? We retraced our steps to the airport and purchased ferry boat tickets to Haines, on the mainland. Juneau sat on a narrow, rocky littoral. Next shock: the ferry only made two runs a day; and, we’d already missed the first run. The next one would not leave until late night, putting us into Haines around 4:00 a.m. Whoa boy! Here we go again! So much for nature-watching from this red-eyed ferry. It also ferried cars, trucks, people, animals, in separate compartments, all for a small fee. So, until our ferry ran, we spent that day visiting a salmon rendering plant, viewing sites around town, boating out to a melting glacier, chunks of which plummeted into the fjord. We also had lunch and dinner of salmon at area restaurants. Salmon—king and sock-eye—are ubiquitous favorites in the northwestern United States, both in Washington and Alaska, we found. It's their chicken! Eventually, we boarded the ferry, and accommodating ourselves to steerage with others, we made our way to Haines on time. A Haines resident whom we had only met over the phone, while at the airport in Juneau, had offered us the use of her home to rest in and to refresh in, after our journey, as no one was home. She even told us where she’d leave the door key! But, being ever prudent—and secretly entertaining images of chain-saw murderers from Hollywood movies—we decided to forego that act of incredible kindness that so amazingly characterizes all Alaskans, we encountered. Being suspicious lower-48ers, we kept driving, marveling that anyone would offer total strangers their home, sight unseen! “To the pure, all things are pure…” Titus 1:15. Along the route to Fairbanks, we caught our first glimpse of majestic, snow-covered Mt. McKinley, the tallest mountain peak in North America, clearly visible from over 100 miles away in the sunrise. What a sight! I was surprised to learn that Fairbanks had an African Methodist Episcopal Church, which meant it also had black people! Ha! The mayor was black, we later learned. We rented a lovely, totally-furnished and completely-equipped, two-bedroom duplex; shopped at a grocery store; cooked a scrumptious breakfast; ate; cleaned up; and crashed into bed from exhaustion. Our whole family was pleasantly contented. It was in Fairbanks that we observed the mystical dance of the “Northern Lights” also known as the aurora borealis. The sun did not set until midnight Alaska-time. Clearly, we were in a very different world. We were headed to Anchorage, by way of Wasilla, where we planned to stop and to visit a fellow National Bar Association (NBA) member, and fellow Howard Law School alumnus, Ashley Mahala Dickerson, Esq., one extraordinary lady. I had cross-referenced each membership directory: Howard's and the NBA’s before leaving Kansas City. That’s how I found her. I also had spoken to her over the phone, amazed that she had been in Alaska, since the 1940’s, practicing law, no less! I later discovered she and her three minor sons had “homesteaded” Alaska, before it became a state, and had lived in a trailer, in the early days, on her 160 acre allotment, in the wilderness! An Alabama native, her neighbor and playmate was none other than Rosa Parks—yes, that one—and Mahala was among the first blacks admitted to the Alabama, Indiana, and Alaska bars. Extraordinary! To our surprise and delight, our “visit” with Attorney Dickerson resulted in an unsolicited invitation for our entire family to spend the night. Alaskan hospitality is amazing, we were beginning to see. Her home was rustic, palatial, entirely harmonious with its context. It had 4 or 5 bedrooms, as many bathrooms, and, most shockingly, an indoor Olympic-sized swimming pool in which our hostess swam while we watched, having respectfully declined her kind invitation to join her swim. The next morning, she cooked us a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, potatoes, toast, grits, coffee, orange juice, and moose sausage. Moose is a delicacy in Alaska, we also learned. After breakfast, she proudly led us on a guided tour of her wooded estate accompanied by her dog, a lovely malamute, that I mistook for a huskey. Our host, a Quaker—the only one I’d ever met of any race—took us to their “friends” meeting house, which is also on her estate, easily identifying hibiscus and other floral varieties in passing. What a wonderful person and what liberated spirit she was, this former Alaskan legislator! Parenthetically, while traveling to Wasilla, from Fairbanks, we had passed the Great Alaska Pipeline at several points and had marveled at its eco-friendly beauty and technological efficiency, which resulted in every Alaskan citizen getting a thousand-plus dollar check for oil royalties every year. Would that we had such a government-owned pipeline in Missouri that awarded us a $1,000-plus annual royalty check each year! Anchorage, itself, seemed somehow anticlimactic, after the wonders of Wasilla. We did, however, stop for lunch there. But, as it pretty much looked like any number of other of dozens of American cities we had seen, including our own—Kansas City--we found our way back onto an interstate intent upon heading for Haynes, the ferry, Juneau, and ultimately home. “Intent” is one thing, but actuality is quite another in Alaska! We hit a 800 pound moose at midnight on the highway enroute to Haynes! That jarring collision unexpectedly compelled our stay-over in Chistochina a couple days. Imagine that! Colliding with and killing a moose, at midnight, in the middle of Alaska! My wife had been driving, while I was sleeping in the front passenger seat, and our 3 sons were sleeping in the back of our Chevy Lumina van. Somehow, I dreamed that we were falling over a cliff down through pine trees, whose needles were brushing my face. In fact, the safety windshield’s glass had shattered sending shards everywhere, even into my jean pockets. Screeching brakes, a thud, and the moose’s rasping, dying breath just outside my window all came rushing to me at once, as I snapped awake. “What that hell?” I uttered excitedly, looking at my wife, incredulously. She was calm. “That moose wouldn't get out of the way,” I'd first thought that I'd heard her say. She was very cool. Too cool. “That thing just jumped right out in front of me!” She protested. Fortunately, none of us were hurt. The vehicle, a rented Chevy Lumina minivan was smashed, “jacked,” as the kids say. But, it was drivable. I instructed my wife to back away from the moose, lest it attract a hungry bear, further compounding our problems. She pulled down to a dirt road 100 or so yards away, pulled in, turned on the flashers and waited for help. Again that amazing Alaskan hospitality manifested itself. A serviceman driving to New Jersey stopped and lent aid. He produced some duct tape and flimsy plastic used to cover dry-cleaning and improvised a replacement windshield for ours, that had been caved in by the moose. While he was still there another vehicle bearing two ladies stopped. They told us we had passed a lodge about 25 miles back. They volunteered to lead us back to it so we could sleep and regroup. With that, our “angel”- serviceman took off and continued on his journey, laden with our heartfelt, thankful gratitude. Following these two new, female angels, we retraced our route. Never exceeding 20 miles per hour, due to our precariously plastic, improvised windshield, we followed those local ladies through the cold night air. Sure enough, they led us to Chistochina Lodge, which looked dark and forbidden, as though it were closed. “Oh, there’s someone there, alright.” They said. “This is Alaska.” She knocked on the door. Light, smoke and sound poured out as it opened. “These folks killed a moose, back up the road and need a place to stay,” an angel said. “Come on in!” replied the hostess. As we entered I noticed a wet bar through a doorway where several patrons were seated. Boy, could I ever use a beer, I thought to myself! While we were checking in, and thanking those kind ladies who had helped us, a couple guys from the bar ambled over. “Did we hear tell you guys had killed a moose back up the road?” one asked. “Sure did.” I replied. “Can we have him?” he asked. Have him? I must’ve looked, as perplexed by his question, as I felt, because he next said “Come on over to the bar, and let me buy you a beer.” Sold American! At the bar, I gave these gentlemen who were gratuitously furnishing the beer, the mileage road marker our fallen moose was near. My wife and kids, meanwhile, had checked in and were unloading the van. “Here's what you're gonna have to do, fella,” one of them said. “Call the highway patrol, tell'm what happened and where. Then, tell'm you're giving your moose to some local folks to clean up and to dispose of.” We walked over to the front desk phone. I related that information to the authorities. That done, having consumed a beer or two, I bid these newest set of Alaskan angels good night and went to bed upstairs in our room. At last! Later that day, as I looked out the window into the quiet morning gloam, I noticed a smokehouse with hewn haunches of meat hanging from the rafters. It appeared to be freshly cut. I wondered if that was our moose. Turns out it was. They offered us some of it for breakfast. “This is Alaska!” I demurred in favor of bacon and sausage, my old familiar favorites! The rental car company soon brought up a new minivan from 150 miles away, from Anchorage, our previous Lumina having been completely totaled! Thereafter we ferried back to Juneau, and flew back to Seattle; picked up our own 1994 Dodge Ram van and drove back to KC. Our amazing Alaskan adventures were complete. As breath-takingly beautiful as that state is, its people are even more beautiful, more wonderful, more loving! What a visit! What a vacation! What a state! Great life-long memories it has given us. God bless Alaska and its amazing people! #30 Mt. McKinley.