AMAZING
ALASKAN ADVENTURES
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!
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