March / April 2019

LAST FRONTIER THE LIFE & BEAUTY OF ALASKA

MAGAZINE | MARCH - APRIL 2019

FLYING OVER KNIK GLACIER

A photo trip to one of Southcentral’s best kept secrets

TREKKING TO THE ICE CAVES

Exploring Southeast’s wondrous Mendenhall Glacier

WINTER FUN WITH MÉMÈRE “A Truly Alaskan Vacation Experience”

BOOTY ROAD PART III

Walking the Iditarod Trail, for the second time

SALMON RISOTTO Italian comfort, Alaskan flavor

TRUE TALES FROM AN ALASKA STATE TROOPER A look at life in Delta Junction from 1974 - 1975

U.S. $4.99

M A R C H - A P R I L

20 1 9 1

2

L A S T F R O N T I E R M AG A Z I N E www.lastfrontiermagazine.com

M A R C H - A P R I L

20 1 9 3

THE PREVIOUS ISSUE

JANUARY/FEBRUARY 2019 WHERE THE MOUNTAINS MEET THE SKY FEBRUARY TRAPLINE WINTER TIME IN ALASKA INSTANT POT WHITE BEAN CHILI ARCTIC VALLEY SURVIVAL TERROR AT MOOSE BURGER FARM

Christian Hollums, founder of photography group Wayfare Collective, exits a helicopter on Knik Glacier during a photo trip. Read more about this adventure on page 16. Photo by Lay Renner

ON THE COVER ADVERTISING

SUBSCRIBE

If you are an Alaskan business, or a business Alaska

$19.99 for a 1 yr. / 6 issue subscription

depends on for services, and would like to place an ad in Last Frontier Magazine, we welcome your call or email. We want to partner in advertising with you!

Visit lastfrontiermagazine.com/advertise to see ad and pricing information or call 907.775.0816. Your ad will be spread across Alaska, displayed online, and promoted via social media. We can also help you Helicopter hovering over Knik Glacier on photo trip with Anchorage Helicopter Tours.

Photo by Dan Redfield

Read more about this photo adventure starting on page 16.

SOCIAL MEDIA

with ad design.

MARCH / APRIL 2019 CONTRIBUTORS Suzette Lord Weldon, pg. 7

Denis Douglas, pg. 24

Elizabeth A. Minton, pg. 8

Lindsey VanTassel, pg. 29

Mary Wargo, pg. 14

David H. Carpenter, pg. 30

Dan Redfield, pg. 16

Laura Lowdermilk, pg. 34

Connect with us on your favorite social media channels: LastFrontierMagazine @alaskalfmag lastfrontiermagazine Last Frontier Magazine

4

CONTRIBUTING Do you have an Alaskan experience and/or photos you would like to share?

Contact Anne Sanders at: editor@lastfrontiermagazine.com

L A S T F R O N T I E R M AG A Z I N E www.lastfrontiermagazine.com

to LFM. Go to: lastfrontiermagazine. com/subscribe or call 907.775.0816. Gift subscriptions available for $15.99 with the purchase of one full price subscription.

Missed an issue? Back issues are also available.

CONTACT INFORMATION Phone: 907.775.0816 Email: info@lastfrontiermagazine.com Web: lastfrontiermagazine.com Mailing: PO Box 4514 Palmer, AK 99645

Editor, Anne Sanders editor@lastfrontiermagazine.com Assistant Editor, Wendy Wesser wendy@lastfrontiermagazine.com Designer, Cecil Sanders publisher@lastfrontiermagazine.com Advertising, Jesse Carnahan ads@lastfrontiermagazine.com

EDITOR’S NOTES

LFM STAFF waiting three to five years before we had children. Five years turned to 11 and in that period of time other surprises popped up, like starting this magazine.

Anne, Gretel and Cecil

Big changes are coming to the team of Last Frontier Magazine. On April 12th, Anne, our editor and my wife, is due to give birth to a baby boy! It’s hard to say what the effect this little addition will have on the LFM team (besides making our lives even more busy!), but we are eagerly awaiting his arrival.

When Anne and I were first married, other than having the urge to travel, you could say we were somewhat aimless. The only solid plan we had was

Neither of us had any real experience with this type of business, besides my work as a graphic designer and photographer, and Anne’s English degree. Needless to say, it has been a consuming venture, with its highs and lows, but very rewarding. Being able to provide an outlet for Alaskans to share their stories and photos—work that may have never been published elsewhere, is an amazing and humbling experience.

We’ve learned so much about Alaska, and so much about life. We’ve met so many people, and heard countless stories and experiences. We look forward to sharing this life and these experiences with our child.

- Notes from Cecil Sanders

MISSION STATEMENT At Last Frontier Magazine we strive to

to promote a healthy community that

captivate our readers with an entertaining

can come together and celebrate Alas-

experience; to propel our advertisers for-

ka and its people, culture, beauty, and

ward in a competitive market; to actively

identity. Our desire is that through the

enrich our community and serve our Lord

content of LFM a positive representa-

with all our heart, mind, soul, and talents.

tion of Alaska will be felt and enjoyed.

We are Alaskans and above all want

CECIL SANDERS Inspired at a young age, Cecil has turned his love of photography into a lifestyle and a business, with a desire to capture the beauty and character of wherever his camera takes him. Always primed to set off on a new adventure, Cecil and his wife, Anne, have spent their eleven years of marriage going on road trips, touring Alaska and the country, and planning ahead to their next destination.

Cecil has combined his artist’s perspective and aptitude for design in order to contribute his talents to the collaborative effort of bringing Last Frontier Magazine into a reality.

ANNE SANDERS Anne was born and raised in Alaska. She graduated with a B.A. in English Literature from the University of Alaska Anchorage. With a love for the written word, she recognizes the treasure of stories and fascinating people Alaska offers. Paired with her husband, Cecil, who complements her narratives with his eye for the visual, Anne is on a mission to bring her beloved home of Alaska to life on the pages of Last Frontier Magazine.

WENDY WESSER Writing, history, gardening, and traveling are a few of Wendy’s interests. She grew up in Alaska, living as far south as Metlakatla and as far north as Fairbanks. Her family’s history of six generations in Alaska reaches back to the Gold Rush years. She loves reading, hearing and sharing Alaskan stories of newcomers and oldtimers alike—Last Frontier Magazine has provided her the opportunity to work in this very venue.

JESSE CARNAHAN Raised in Alaska, Jesse has a special affinity for the state and the people that live here. Along with his wife and two children, Jesse loves being outdoors and experiencing this amazing place. He has always loved hearing the unique stories that can only come from Alaska, and is excited to be able to share more of them through Last Frontier Magazine.

M A R C H - A P R I L

20 1 9 5

TABLE OF CONTENTS Old Knik River Road leading to Knik Glacier.

BUSINESS

7

CLUB PARIS

Just what you’re hoping to find in Alaska

Photo by Christian Hollums / Wayfare Collective

O U T D O O R S & R E C R E AT I O N

8

TREKKING TO THE ICE CAVES

Exploring Southeast’s wondrous Mendenhall Glacier

LIFE IN ALASKA

14

WINTER FUN WITH MÉMÈRE “A Truly Alaskan Vacation Experience”

ADVENTURE & PHOTO GALLERY

16

FLYING OVER KNIK GLACIER A photo trip to one of Southcentral’s best kept secrets

OUTDOORS & ADVENTURE

24

BOOTY ROAD: PART III Walking the Iditarod Trail, for the second time

RECIPE

29

SALMON RISOTTO Italian comfort, Alaskan flavor

ALASK A HISTORY

30

TRUE TALES FROM AN ALASKA STATE TROOPER A look at life in Delta Junction from 1974 - 1975

LIFE IN ALASKA

34

6

THE ALASKAN Understanding the Alaskan way, mind, and soul

L A S T F R O N T I E R M AG A Z I N E www.lastfrontiermagazine.com

CLUB PARIS JUST WHAT YOU’RE HOPING TO FIND IN ALASKA

H

ARTICLE AND PHOTO BY SUZETTE LORD WELDON

aving been in the food service business for over 40 years,

days. Most restaurants serve premade soups which are loaded with

I know what makes a restaurant special and a great place

sodium and preservatives. Their chili is so good it blew me away.

from its ambience to the quality of the food and service.

I’ve judged the chili cook-offs at the fair for years and this is the win-

I’ve had the pleasure of writing for three different newspapers in

ner by far, a recipe created a long time ago by their grandmother

the Napa Valley, reviewing restaurants and seeking out the best of

using their prime rib.

the best.

One of my favorite things about Club Paris is that whether it’s lunch When I moved to Alaska about 18 years ago, I set out to discover the

or dinner you are served a complete meal with generous portions,

best restaurants that Alaska has to offer. To my delight, I found that

none of this having to order and pay for everything separately. And

there’s a very nice variety of foreign, regional, and local restaurants

you get to choose from a large array of side dishes, such as rice

to choose from. I have several favorites that I’m quite fond of but

pilaf, baked potatoes, fries, fresh veggies, etc.

my favorite by far is Club Paris. From the first time I walked into Club Paris it felt like going back in time to the days of the Barbary Coast

I also love their lunch specials, like their tenderloin tips, but be sure

and feeling Alaska’s connection to San Francisco—it felt exactly like

to get there early as other folks like them as well and they could run

what I was hoping to find here in Alaska.

out. One of my favorite things about their dinner plates is the spiced apple ring they use as a garnish; the nicest steak houses in the Bay

Club Paris is located right in the heart of downtown Anchorage and

Area always served these with their dinner plates. Be sure to taste

has been in business there since 1957. It survived the big earthquake

it—it’s not just a garnish.

of 1964 and even their awesome vintage neon sign still stands out front. This family-run business takes great pride in the quality of

No matter what you choose to try, whether it’s their steak, lobster,

their food and service with a warm and cozy atmosphere, not too

halibut, shrimp, or even a huge salad, you’ll be happy and want

big, not too small, but just right.

to come back to try some of their other offerings. Be sure to save some room for one of their desserts, all made from scratch. Delec-

The owner proudly told me that when people come to work at Club

table choices like Scott’s chocolate sweet potato pie, Cheyenne’s

Paris they don’t leave. Take for example their own in-house butcher

macadamia nut pie, Key lime pie, New York cheesecake, crème

who has been with them for 35 years. His sole responsibility is to

brûlée, and carrot cake (the best I’ve ever had), are all so delicious!

do all the cutting, aging, smoking, and roasting while overseeing the quality of all the meat and fish (which they are famous for) and

Club Paris is truly an Alaskan tradition, their quality has stood the

only serving the best. The chef has been with them since 1988 so

test of time, and the prices are very reasonable. Needless to say, I

customers can count on the same quality each time they visit. It’s

love Club Paris. A

awful when you find a place you like and the next time you go there it’s completely different—Club Paris is consistently great.

SUZETTE LORD WELDON is a travel

All the burgers are made with filet mignon, they are also known as

journalist, Master chef, food stylist/photogra-

the home of the 4-inch thick filet mignon. I’ll be back to try one very

pher, event coordinator and cookbook author.

soon. The soups are all homemade which is very hard to find these

907-357-2433

Monday - Saturday 11:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m.

Dinner 5 p.m. to 10 p.m.

Sunday 5 p.m. to 10 p.m.

417 W 5th Ave., Anchorage, Alaska 907-277-6332 | www.ClubParisRestaurant.com M A R C H - A P R I L

20 1 9 7

TREKKING TO THE ICE CAVES EXPLORING SOUTHEAST’S WONDROUS MENDENHALL GLACIER STORY BY ELIZABETH A. MINTON

8

L A S T F R O N T I E R M AG A Z I N E www.lastfrontiermagazine.com

T

hough they seem frozen still in the moment, the ice caves

to me, and I knew I could not count on another person with a rope

at Mendenhall Glacier are eternally transforming into new

nearby to pull me out if I were to fall in.

works of art each day. The handiwork of one of nature’s

greatest forces compels me to visit these wonders each winter. Yes,

I waited another four days with temperatures continuing in the single

I can see them in the summer by taking a long hike in the woods or

digits and teens. When the masses began heading out to the caves,

kayaking across Mendenhall Lake, but winter is arguably the ideal

it was time for me to go as well. I packed my bag: camera, tripod,

time to visit the caves and witness their splendor. It is during this

spare batteries, extra layers, shoes, ice cleats (an absolute must), as

season that nature offers me the choice to walk, ski, ice skate, or

well as water and snacks for the journey. Some people opt to bring

bike across the frozen lake amongst sculptures of ancient glacial ice.

a helmet for protection from falling ice in the caves, but I didn’t have mine at my house at the time. I wanted to maximize my time

The Mendenhall has been the most well-known glacier to captivate

at the caves so, with the distance to the caves increasing every year

Juneauites and visitors for centuries. Droves of tourists travel to

and the limited winter daylight, I planned to skate ski to the glacier.

this glacier’s viewing points every summer. The glacier used to reside where the visitor’s center is today, but now it is a 1.75 mile trek

I set off on a beautiful day with the sun poking through overcast

across a glacial lake to access the face. The receding nature of the

skies. Skate skiing on the lake requires following the snow-packed

glacier is what causes the ice caves to be so distinct from year to

path of other people who have already found their way to the

year.

caves—otherwise your skis slide out too far, leaving you doing embarrassing and painful split maneuvers on the slippery ice.

There are only fleeting segments of time when making this trek is safe, although it is never without risk. The lake in front of the glacier

The gliding that day was peaceful and smooth. The chill on my face

needs to be frozen solid, necessitating at least several days of tem-

grew colder as I approached the glacier, but my body warmed up

peratures well below freezing. Every year people fall through the

with each ski stroke and the increasing beat of my heart—I could

ice by going too early or traveling where the ice is thinner. In fact,

not help but smile at the striking beauty looming before me. I made

just four days before I took my first trek out to the ice caves this

it! Standing at the face staring into the recent areas of calving is

winter, a man on a mountain bike fell through the ice while biking

magnificent, but not a place I like to visit too closely or tarry for too

along the face of the glacier. Lucky for him, another person walking

long. Because of the regular calving and erosion that occurs there,

out to the caves that day saw him fall through, noticing just his head

the face of the glacier that touches the frozen lake is one of the

and helmet sticking above the shards of ice surrounding him. The

most dangerous spots to be. When I see a dark, deep blue section

bystander was carrying a rope and helped to pull the man out of the

of the face, I stay away. That is a sign of recent calving and likely an

frigid water. Saving grace? That’s the last thing I wanted to happen

unstable area. This day, I’d prefer the face of the glacier not be my final resting place.

Skiing to the face of the glacier.

Exploring ice shards strewn

Photo: Elizabeth Minton

throughout the cave’s interior. Photo: Elizabeth Minton

M A R C H - A P R I L

20 1 9 9

Trekking to the Ice Caves As I took in the view, I heard a loud crack that sounded like a terri-

After less than 10 minutes of walking, I arrived at an incredibly well-

fyingly close bolt of lightning. Then there was a rumbling whoop.

worn set of tracks leading down into what spelunkers would call

In the more than 20 years that I have been coming out here, that

a slot canyon, but instead, it was made of ice. Magical. The blue

sound has never lost its unsettling effect on me. It is a gentle, albeit

glistened from within from the few bits of sun peeking through

humbling, reminder that the glacier is always moving. That unnerv-

the clouds. I gasped in stillness, taking in the beauty. As I listened,

ing feeling was enough to say to myself, “I’ve enjoyed the beauty of

I heard voices down in the cave and the screech of ice cleats. It’s

the face long enough.” I turned around and skied toward the trail

always comforting to hear people in the caves and I feel somewhat

to the ice caves.

safer knowing others have gone before me. However, the caves could still collapse at any time, always making any venture into the

The entrance to the main caves is roughly a quarter mile back from

ice inherently precarious.

the face, alongside the rocky glacial moraine. With several inches of snow on everything, the rocks were harder to identify, making the

As I walked down the gentle hill toward the cave, my feet skidded

trail quite rugged. However, the snow was not deep enough for my

on the scree. The ice cleats were not helpful here. I reached the en-

skis to glide without getting scratched, so I changed them out for

trance of the slot and shimmied around a giant icicle jutting out of

shoes and ice cleats and headed along the west side of the glacier

the top of the ice slot. It went all the way down to my knees and was

to find the best caves.

a foot in diameter at the top and roughly half that at the bottom.

The 10-foot distance through the slot of ice then opened up to a

The path was well-worn from the feet of those before me, mak-

30-foot circular opening, surrounded by walls of ice but open to the

ing the caves easy to find. My ice cleats screeched across the mix-

sky above.

ture of rocks and ice. The temperature had warmed up providing a slight break from the cold wind that breathes off the face of

While walking through this circular area, I saw it—the opening to

the glacier. I peeked my head into various small caves along the

the main part of the cave. The space between the ground and the

way, which were obviously not main attractions for prior visitors.

glacial ice above was just a little more than a foot, so I bent down

Majestic blue hues color the icy walls and ceiling of the cave.

Photo by Elizabeth Minton 10

L A S T F R O N T I E R M AG A Z I N E www.lastfrontiermagazine.com

Trekking to the Ice Caves

An ice tunnel meanders

A skylight in the roof of the cave pro-

through the cave.

vides a glimpse to the world beyond.

Photo by Elizabeth Minton

Photo by Elizabeth Minton

on my hands and knees to look in. Wow! Before me stretched one

I never rely on my cell phone during Alaska winters. Note to self—

of the largest caves I had ever seen! The expanse went on as far as

add an external battery pack charger to my pack next time I head

I could see to my left and right. The cave featured the deepest of

outside and remember a headlamp.

blues with light glowing in from several holes in the roof of the cave.

I took one last check of the ice cleats on my shoes to make sure they

I turned my attention away from the deepest parts of the cave and

were pulled taut and crawled like a gorilla into the ice cave.

walked toward a focused beam of light coming down from one of the holes in the dome of the cave. Along the way, I jumped over a

It was extraordinary inside. The grandeur was even more impressive

small crack in the floor where water must have flowed through on

than I thought when first peeking in. After just four feet of crawling,

warmer days. As I approached the hole, I noticed a tunnel system

I was able to stand up and walk around. The ceilings were well over

meandering through the four foot thick cave ceiling. The ceiling of

double my height. The crunch of my cleats informed me that I was

the cave at this point was still over twice my height, so I was able to

walking on ice rather than rocks, although it was not apparent given

stand comfortably tall and observe. The hole closest to me was no

the dark and dirty bronze color of the ice floor—remnants of soil

more than a foot wide and covered in the same pitted texture as the

and rock resulting from a millennia of movement. The ceilings were

cave’s exterior. The ice in the hole appeared a much more diluted

a sapphire blue, truly what you would call glacier blue. To the left,

baby blue and glimmered white near the top of the ice tunnels that

the allure of glimmering white and light blue ice chunks that had

exited the roof of the cave. Many people may not believe it, but

fallen from an alternative cave entrance caught my eye. To the right,

the darker cloudier days are actually the best ones for viewing the

I witnessed a frozen stream that dove into the depths of the glacier.

glacier. The pits throughout the glacier are like windows that display the deepest blues in the ice.

That’s when I realized I had forgotten my headlamp. Shoot! The deepest parts of these caves are not accessible without artificial

Shattering sounds surprised me from behind. My nervous system

light because they are too far away from the exterior’s natural light.

instantly went into freeze mode before I reminded myself that

I pulled out my phone to take a quick selfie and to consider it as a

there were others in the cave with me. They had crunched through

possible light source. And then … it died. So frustrating! This is why

a thin layer of ice over the area where water had previously flowed

M A R C H - A P R I L

20 1 9 11

Trekking to the Ice Caves through the cave. This constant feeling of being slightly on edge

are not gentle on any type of battery. I figured at this point, I need-

and hoping the cave does not collapse or break off a chunk while

ed to save my battery for whatever great pictures were to come.

you are inside is part of the thrill of visiting the caves, though it’s definitely not why I go. I am here for the beauty and grandeur.

Looking around, I saw a several-foot-wide ice tunnel branching off from the far end of the broken entrance to the ice cave. This tun-

I kept exploring. When walking farther toward the left side of the

nel varied between one to two feet tall, so I was back on my hands

cave, I had to meander around large boulders of ice. Some of these I could step over, and others were as tall as I am. These ice chunks had fallen from the collapsed alternative entrance to the cave. It was not a place that I wanted to spend a lot of time, even though the ice should have been more frozen with the colder temperatures than when the ice chunks originally crashed to the ground. These ice chunks were glimmering white in places where the sun was hitting them. I could

and knees crawling again. The colors were glori-

I heard a loud crack that sounded like a terrifyingly close bolt of lightning. Then there was a rumbling whoop.

ous. Bang! Ow! I crashed my head into the roof of the ice tunnel. That’s another reason a helmet would have been helpful in these caves. I crouched farther down to slither through the narrowing tunnel. The light coming from the end was shining brightly, especially in contrast to the deeper blue and dimly lit environment in the tunnel. I took a few more photos and then crawled out.

see the dirt and rocks captured inside. I was once asked by a tourist, “Why don’t you vacuum the glacier?” They just

The alternative entrance to the ice cave looked much more precari-

didn’t understand. The “dirt” they see can be a boulder larger than

ous from this side. In fact, it looked quite impassable with all the fall-

a car.

en chunks of ice. The entrance to the tunnel now looked tiny with little indication where it led. It was obvious to me now why former

I snapped a few more pictures of the ice strewn about before my

visitors entered the cave using the main entrance. I knew all too

camera gave me a low battery warning. These cold temperatures

well that today’s main entrance would not be tomorrow’s.

A vibrant sunset serves as a glorious ending to a day at the caves.

Photo by Jack Stickel

Trekking to the Ice Caves With the daylight waning and my camera battery almost dead, it

to pinks blushing over the white snow covering the lake. I was still

was about time to call it a day. Before heading home, I wanted to

happy that I got to experience it in person!

make one more pass through the tunnel and cave to take a video to share with friends and family. I hoped my battery would last. This

To my delight, upon returning home, I talked with family who had

last pass through the cave was equally as breathtaking as the first

gone out skiing and captured the glorious sunset picture. Now I can

but definitely more hurried. The faster pace caused me to crash my

preserve that memory as well. As I look back at the pictures from

head into the ice ceiling several times as I used my camera with one

my journey to the ice caves, I am already planning my next visit. The

hand while wobbling through the ice tunnel on my knees and other

grandeur and mystique of the glacier and caves never loses its awe.

hand. I’m sure I was a sight!

On my list for next time? Explore the right side of the cave as well as bring an extra camera battery, power pack for my phone, helmet,

As I walked out of the cave entrance, back through the circular un-

headlamp, and some friends and family to share the memories. A

roofed opening in the ice, and then the ice slot I walked through at the beginning, I gazed around in amazement at the beauty of the area. It seemed as if the caves were whispering to me, “When are you coming back, Elizabeth?” I turned around to take one more pic-

ELIZABETH A. MINTON a born and raised

ture of the ice cave area, and then my camera battery died. Perfect

Alaskan, is a passionate outdoors enthusiast.

timing, at least I thought so at the time.

She enjoys hiking, kayaking, rock climbing, cross country skiing, and anything else that will get her

I walked the trail back to where I stashed my skis and poles and

outside. She volunteers with search and rescue and

shook off the fresh layer of snowflakes clinging to them. I enjoyed

guides backpacking trips when she has free time

the sun gently setting as I was skiing back and when I was less than

away from her day job as an associate professor of marketing. She is also

half a mile from my car, that’s when I wished I had an operational

a recent recipient of a Guinness World Record for the fastest time to set

camera. The sunset transformed from a darkening of the horizon

up a two-person tent with two people.

en ergy

To sign up for service or other inquiries, visit one of our local offices.

Eagle River 11623 Aurora Street 694-2161

Wasilla 1401 S. Seward Meridian Parkway 761-9500

Palmer (MEA Headquarters) 163 E. Industrial Way 761-9300

WINTER FUN WITH MÉMÈRE “A TRULY ALASKAN VACATION EXPERIENCE” STORY AND PHOTOS BY MARY WARGO

A

s a proud Alaska resident, I always want to show off the best and most unique experiences in my great state when visitors come. Usually this involves hiking up mountains for fantastic views of more mountains. Or may-

be getting close to a glacier. Or pointing out majestic wildlife, like the moose that often stroll through our yard, terrorizing our garden and occasionally charging at guests.

My mother-in-law, Mémère, visits us regularly, usually in the winters. We have taken her snowshoeing, sledding, and skiing in Hatcher Pass, driven along the scenic Seward Highway, and have probably gotten her closer to moose than she ever wanted. After so many trips to Alaska, it can feel like there aren’t many new Alaskan adventures to offer her. Last year she came up for a week over our spring break, in March. The visit involved many typical Mémère (grandma) activities: eating at fast food restaurants with playscapes for kids, swimming, Bouncin’ Bears, and a Pi Day celebration. Fun for everyone, but nothing that really gave her a truly Alaskan vacation experience. I was ultimately able to provide her with one, unplanned on my part.

Several weeks before her arrival, the passenger-side sun visor in my minivan broke.

I was not present when it happened, and was unclear of the details, but one of my sons admitted responsibility. At first, it didn’t bother me much. I was normally the driver and my visor worked just fine. But, as the year progressed and we started getting more and more daylight, the broken visor began to bother me, especially on the occasional times when I sat in the passenger seat.

14

L A S T F R O N T I E R M AG A Z I N E www.lastfrontiermagazine.com

Through the power of YouTube, I felt comfortable doing minor

Mémère and I waded through knee deep snow until we found a

car repairs, the kind that didn’t actually involve working on the

wrecked minivan with a passenger visor in decent shape. I was a

engine with any specialized tools. I had successfully reset the

little embarrassed because I didn’t know the name of the screw

automatic locking system, changed various light bulbs, changed

head that I needed to remove, only that it wasn’t phillips or flat. I

the time on the stereo, and replaced the electrical harness for

had taken a picture, but they knew what I was describing without

the automatic sliding doors, all with the internet as my guide. I

it. The man in the office provided me with a torque screwdriver.

figured replacing a sun visor would be pretty easy. The barrier I

With only a little difficulty I removed the visor, returned the

encountered was the cost of the part. Used visors online were

screwdriver, paid my money, and left. Mémère was so taken with

around $65, not including shipping. That seemed like a lot to me,

the quintessentially Alaskan way of do-it-yourself, no-frills cus-

especially since I was not planning to replace it with the electri-

tomer service, and the independent, self-reliant Alaskan attitude

cal feature of a lighted mirror. I began researching local wrecking

toward car repairs, that she took some pictures to document the

yards and found the part in an online inventory, available for only

experience and texted them to the rest of the family. And I felt

$20 at Hilltop Recycling in Chugiak.

pretty good that I was able to offer her something truly Alaskan

So, while Mémère was visiting, I incorporated a stop at the

during her trip after all. A

Me with the torque set,

wrecking yard into a trip down Turnagain Arm to Girdwood to

ready to head back into

pick up my son, who had been skiing with a friend at Alyeska. As

the snow to retrieve my

we pulled into Hilltop Recycling, I knew immediately by the ambi-

sun visor. March 13, 2018

ance that this was a truly unique Alaskan experience that she had not yet encountered during her many visits. The rows upon rows

MARY WARGO resides in

of broken vehicles parked along the hillside were obscured by a

Wasilla, Alaska, where she is a do-

thick layer of snow, fresh and white, because of a recent dump

mestic maven and entropy fight-

we received. I left Mémère and the kids in the van while I headed

er. She is married to the dashing

into the no-frills office, helpfully labeled with a basic hand-paint-

Ben Wargo, formerly of Bristol, Connecti-

ed sign. I described the part I was looking for, thinking that they

cut. They have four spirited children. In her

kept an inventory in the back—a shelf of visors they could go to,

spare time she teaches piano and works to

retrieve the one I needed, then I would pay my $20 and be on

end the outdated practice of changing the

my way. Instead, the man, a heavily built, bearded character, told

clocks for daylight saving time.

me I needed to go out to the “minivan section” and find what I needed. I explained that I didn’t bring any tools with me to remove the part, and he told me if I found one, they would give me a tool and I could get it myself.

BELOW: The van, Bad Bertha, parked outside the office at Hilltop Recycling in Chugiak, Alaska. March, 13, 2018

M A R C H - A P R I L

20 1 9 15

100 Days in Denali

EXPERIENCING KNIK GLACIER A PHOTO TRIP TO ONE OF MATANUSKA VALLEY’S MOST IMPRESSIVE LOCATIONS STORY BY DAN REDFIELD | PHOTOS BY DAN REDFIELD AND WAYFARE COLLECTIVE

16

L A S T F R O N T I E R M AG A Z I N E www.lastfrontiermagazine.com

INTRODUCTION by Cecil Sanders Knik, known as ‘fire’ in the Inupiaq language, is a relatively common geographical name in the Cook Inlet and southcentral area of Alaska. On many occasions I’ve looked across the varying terrain of the Knik River Valley from atop Bodenburg Butte, which juts above the town of Butte, to the icy spectacle tucked back into the Chugach Mountains—Knik Glacier.

Located near the southeastern corner of the Matanuska-Susitna Borough, Knik Glacier is a fascinating ornament covering the landscape and mountain valleys, but its breadth and depth are difficult to behold unless you are able to get a closer look. Although there are no roads leading to the face of the glacier, it has grown in popularity among ATV owners, pilots, skiers, fat-tire bikers, and tour providers who access the glacier by land and air.

It wasn’t until a flightseeing trip several years ago that I understood how incredibly large the glacier actually is. I marveled at its deep crevasses, bright pools, and the rugged gorge cut out by the silty Knik River. No matter what means you choose to reach this river of ice, Knik Glacier is a worthy place to visit. My advice is to try them all.

Christian Hollums, owner of Wayfare Collective and media manager for Last Frontier Magazine, set out with a couple of extremely talented local photographers, Dan Redfield and Lay Renner, to capture Knik Glacier via helicopter. The following is their visual and written account of the experience.

(A big shout out to Anchorage Helicopter Tours for providing transportation.)

Deep crevasses and frozen pools dominate Knik Glacier.

Photographer Dan Redfield enjoying the sights around Knik Glacier while in flight.

Photo by Christian Hollums / Wayfare Collective

Photo by Lay Renner / Wayfare Collective

Warm hues cast across the Chugach Range and Knik Glacier.

Christian Hollums and Dan Redfield exit the helicopter on Knik Glacier.

Photo by Christian Hollums /

Photo by Lay Renner /

Wayfare Collective

Wayfare Collective

M A R C H - A P R I L

20 1 9 17

Experiencing Knik Glacier

18

L A S T F R O N T I E R M AG A Z I N E www.lastfrontiermagazine.com

Experiencing Knik Glacier

Afternoon light plays on the fog rolling through a large gorge near the face of Knik Glacier.

Photo by Dan Redfield

M A R C H - A P R I L

20 1 9 19

Experiencing Knik Glacier

A warm afternoon sun highlights the peaks above Knik Glacier as Anchorage Helicopter Tours pilot, Josiah, explores.

Photo by Christian Hollums / Wayfare Collective

20

L A S T F R O N T I E R M AG A Z I N E www.lastfrontiermagazine.com

Experiencing Knik Glacier

M A R C H - A P R I L

20 1 9 21

Experiencing Knik Glacier

I

n January I received an invitation to take a helicopter trip from

shots. This setting included low hanging fog, sun illuminating the haze,

Merrill Field in Anchorage to Knik Glacier in Palmer. The pur-

and endless colors of glacier blue and warm orange.

pose—to gather content for Last Frontier Magazine. On the

day of our flight Anchorage was completely socked in with no

The sun was already beginning to set as we flew to our next location.

blue sky on the horizon. The biggest issue wasn’t visibility. In-

Off in the distance I noticed a small black dot. Since the entire glacier is

stead, it was the moisture in the air and freezing temperatures.

covered with snow, anything black really stands out. When I pointed it

While waiting for the sky to clear we met with our pilot, Josiah,

out to Josiah, he exclaimed, “That’s a moose!” We decided to ignore

and went through the safety brief. Shortly after, a blue patch of

our second location in favor of possibly getting shots of the moose.

sky opened directly above us. Christian, Lay, Josiah, and I loaded

Moose on a glacier, such a uniquely Alaskan moment! We arrived and

up and got off the ground knowing that the clear patch would

noticed three moose had navigated through crevasses across the ice

probably be gone by the time we came back.

sheet. Josiah’s etiquette as an Alaskan pilot was admirable. Though it was never mentioned, he knew to keep a safe distance from the

We rose a few thousand feet until we emerged above the fog and

moose. We were able to photograph and enjoy watching them. We

flew toward the mountains with weather that was clear and blue.

didn’t want to spook them for fear of the fatal crevasses around them.

Our view of the mountains was spectacular, peaks as far as the

My hat’s off to you, Josiah!

eye could see. As we approached the last peak Josiah informed us the glacier was next. I had set my camera down for a second,

Since the sun was falling and the level of our fuel tank was as well, it

so I think that was his way of saying, “You might want to get

was time to head back. We followed the Knik River out to the highway

your camera ready.” He was right. The glacier was surrounded

in order to view the last bit of sun and rolling fog over Eagle River. The

by mountains, a pretty incredible view! The colors and textures,

fog was still present as we approached Anchorage, but luckily for us

with the rock and ice, left me overwhelmed. There was so much to

the hole that let us take off had stayed open. After hours of standing

soak in. Christian spotted our first location to land and get some

on a glacier in sub-zero temperatures we were all happy to be back. We couldn’t wait to warm up and peek at our photos! On my drive home I couldn’t help but reflect on such an awesome experience and the sights we saw. I never would have expected to see moose on a glacier watching the sun set … something I will never forget! A

DAN REDFIELD is a full-time Emmy® nominated filmmaker and adventure photographer. Dan creat-

@alaskaphotoventures @alaska_photoventures

ed Alaska Photoventures to fulfill his love for both film and photography.

EXCLUSIVE CONTENT Visit LastFrontierMagazine.com for more photos and additional content on our winter ATV tour to Knik Glacier.

It is his excuse to meet amazing people and explore new places in Alaska.

alaskaphotoventures.com @alaskaphotoventures

Enjoy Knik Glacier with these tour providers: Photographer Lay Renner explores an area of Knik Glacier.

Anchorage Helicopter Tours - AnchorageHelicopterTours.com Alaska Glacier Experience - AlaskaGlacierExperience.net

Photo by Christian Hollums 22

L A S T F R O N T I E R M AG A Z I N E www.lastfrontiermagazine.com

Moose traversing Knik Glacier with an evening glow upon the landscape.

Photo by Christian Hollums / Wayfare Collective

M A R C H - A P R I L

20 1 9 23

BOOTY ROAD: PART III WALKING THE IDITAROD TRAIL, FOR THE SECOND TIME STORY BY DENIS DOUGLAS

A

s some readers may know, I walked the 1100 mile Iditarod Trail from Knik to Nome a number of years ago to raise medical funds for a friend with a terminal brain tumor. (See

LFM March/April and May/June 2017 issues to read Booty Road Parts I & II.) A few years later I had another reason to walk to Nome and raise money for a worthy group of people.

September 11, 2001, is a day that none of us will forget. I was in a remote location without radio or TV communications. My first vision of this horrific event in our history was viewing a video recap of various heart-tugging images about six weeks after the Twin Towers fell. As many of us were, I was moved to do something; I decided to walk the Iditarod Trail again to raise funds for the Leary Firefighters Foundation and other charities.

First I need to clear up the reason for calling these stories Booty Road. It was pointed out to me that booty is usually associated with a person’s posterior, butt, and/or hind-end, as in shake your booty. That is not what I had in mind. I noted in Part I of Booty Road, that I often saw dog booties along the trail. Mushers put booties on the feet of their dogs when it gets super cold or when sharp ice might cause injuries. These booties are made of soft material in a broad range of colors as well as a variety of camo patterns. I couldn’t help collecting the colorful booties as I walked.

Next I ordered a heavy duty military style harness, aluminum drag poles, and the attachment hardware for the sled. I built wood laminated runners about an inch high and attached them to the bottom of the sled. Then I attached aluminum rails to the bottom of the wooden runners to affix ultrahigh-density polyethylene plastic runners. This kept the sled out of the overflow, most of the time, and made it much easier to pull. Similar hardware is used on the bottom of dog sleds.

After spending about two days dragging the sled around the neighborhood, it was time for my wife to drop me off at Big Lake, just outside of Anchorage.

During my first Iditarod Trail trip, I decided that if I ever walked it again, I would improve my gear, particularly the sled. I looked through several sporting goods stores in Anchorage, before I blundered into Plaschem Supply & Consulting in Wasilla, now known as Arctic Fiberglass. After talking to the wonderful people there and looking at the products they had to offer, I asked what the price would be for a seven-foot-long fiberglass sled (also known as an Akhio). Since I was doing the trip for charity, they donated the sled.

I can’t tell you how much I appreciated their gesture of support!

My next stop was Alaska Tent and Tarp. I dragged my new sled into the store and asked if they could build a tent on it. I think I may have

24

been the first person to request a tent like this. After a little head scratching, they indicated that it was possible and we discussed the design. I sat in the sled and asked them to measure it so I could sit up. The cost was $1800.00 to build and attach the tent. I said, “OK, call me when it’s ready.” About a week later I picked up my sled and it was everything I could have ever hoped for. If you need a tent, go see the people at Alaska Tent and Tarp.

The sled weighed about 40 pounds without the tent, runners, and harness gear. With my noninflatable/self-inflating mattress (they don’t inflate at 30 below), sleeping bag, Coleman stove and fuel, freeze-dried meals, snowshoes, and everything else needed for the trip, the sled weighed in at a little over 100 pounds. Now, a hundred pounds isn’t much if it’s on a dog sled, or in the trunk of your car, but when you have to pull it yourself, the weight becomes a little more noticeable! In the words of one of my friends in Galena, who pulled my first sled about 50 feet on the Yukon River, “You have to be a mule to pull this son of a @#$%.” After spending about two days dragging the sled around the neighborhood, it was time for my wife to drop me off at Big Lake, just outside of Anchorage.

It was a bright sunny day on February 17, 2002, when I began my second Iditarod Trail hike. Even after everything that happened on the first trip to Nome, I was excited to start another adventure for good causes. There was a lot of activity because of the start of a snow machine race. Knowing what lay ahead was frightening.

Previous experiences proved I could expect a variety of challenges.

I was fighting a battle between what was left of my gray matter

L A S T F R O N T I E R M AG A Z I N E www.lastfrontiermagazine.com

and the excitement of adventure. As usual with me, logic lost and supporting charities and my yearning for adventure won. After the last snow machine left the starting line, I said goodbye to my wife and headed out across Big Lake for Nome.

It’s incredible how fast one can transition from civilization to utter wilderness. I could hardly wait to get pooped out so I could try out my new home away from home. Since this was my first day, and it was late when I began walking, it wasn’t long before that opportunity came.

The modified sled worked out better than I anticipated. Since I was able to keep my bed made, I wouldn’t have to deal with trying to inflate my non-inflating/self-inflating air mattress anymore. During the next few days I made some adjustments and got used to my new equipment. It was an immediate relief not having to mess with setting up a tent every night as I did during my first trip. However, no matter how comfortable I tried to make myself, walking the Iditarod Trail is still an energy-consuming undertaking involving uncomfortable situations.

understand my problem with his line of thinking. After that, I stayed well ahead of him until I had to stop for the night.

I learned that some of the people who competed in the ultra-sport race didn’t carry enough gear to take care of themselves in the variety of situations they might encounter. My sled was equipped with a small, collapsible, vestibule for storing gear at night. It was too short for anyone to sleep in, so I cut a hole in one end so Scott could sleep with most of his body inside. It was tight quarters for both of us and he may have been breaking his race rules by depending on me for help.

Denis with his custom tent and sled.

When it’s cold outside, it can take a bit of fiddling just to get a stove lit. Sometimes I would have to hold the Peak stove under my coat until it warmed enough to light. Just pumping the stove would sometimes result in frozen fingers. While we’re on the subject, let’s talk about matches. There are many brands on the market and I think it’s fair to say that about half of them are fireproof. It’s a good idea to check your matches outside in the cold before including them in your winter gear. Since lighters just don’t work at 30 below, make sure your matches will!

The trail from Big Lake to Skwentna was relatively uneventful. I crossed fairly flat stretches to the Little Susitna River and on to the Big Susitna River just below the Yentna River. We have property about seven miles up the Yentna River and I would have spent a night at our cabin if it weren’t up a steep incline of deep snow. The trail continues up the Yentna River, past several fishing lodges, Yentna Station, Lake Creek, and other places before reaching the Skwentna Roadhouse where I stayed and visited one night. After a wonderful breakfast with my friends it was time to reluctantly say goodbye.

As I made my way up into the Alaska Range through deep snow, I came upon a man I will call Scott, not any brighter than myself, who was competing in an ultra-sport race. With my long trail snowshoes, I was doing all right in the snow. Scott’s snowshoes were just slightly longer than his feet and were essentially useless for the snow conditions. He was also carrying a bicycle over his shoulder! He was glad to follow me while I broke trail. Before long Scott decided that placing his bike on my sled for me to carry would be a good idea. I did not agree. Scott didn’t speak English well and couldn’t

The next morning I was on the trail before daylight. I had to be fast on my feet to beat Scott out of camp. He still thought his idea to have me carry his bike was valid. The wind was blowing and neither of us were having very much fun. I could hear him yell occasionally, “Dennneeeess, wait for meeeee.” Gradually the wind diminished and the snow didn’t seem as deep. Throughout the day, I would stay far enough ahead of Scott that I could stop and rest or just drink a little water and eat an energy bar. He would just about catch me and I would once again break trail for him. “Denneess wait for meeee.”

Shortly after reaching the summit of Rainy Pass, the trail became hard-packed so I could shed my snowshoes. I was making better time and it wasn’t long before Scott came up behind me on his bike.

I moved off the trail so he could pass, and as he went by he said, “See you later, Denneess.”

M A R C H - A P R I L

20 1 9 25

Booty Road Part III I spent the night at Rohn and headed for Nikolai, 75 miles away, the next morning. The trail crossed the Farewell Burn which supports a fairly large herd of bison, and, as luck would have it, there was very little snow in the area. It had never occurred to me that bison droppings could be as big as they are; I had to watch my step to avoid tripping over frozen turds. As I dragged the sled over turds, logs, and bare rocks, I couldn’t help wondering what I was doing to the bottom of my beautiful sled. Occasionally, I would stop and roll the sled up on its side to inspect it. As it turned out, the scratches were superficial so I stopped worrying about it. I was glad to get onto hard-packed snow again after crossing the burn.

Something extraordinary happened during this trip that differed greatly from my first trip. Most people knew I was walking for charities, and although I was treated well on the first trip, it didn’t quite measure up to the hospitality I encountered on my second trip. I was allowed to stay inside the schools to dry out my gear and a couple times I was invited to eat from the cafeteria refrigerator.

It was a welcome change from my normal fare! I would sometimes let people climb into my sled so they would have a bit of an idea what my living conditions were like. Most of them left me with the impression that they preferred a nice warm cabin. Go figure!

It was a relatively short hop from Nikolai to McGrath, where I spent a couple of days with more friends. This whole region is mining

country with a number of operating mines. Trapping is also an ongoing activity in the area. This is the real honest Alaska that many people don’t get to see because it’s off the beaten path. Seeing this lifestyle should be on your bucket list!

Takotna is about 18 miles from McGrath and during the winter it is usually the last inhabited village for 160 miles until reaching Ruby.

From Takotna the trail is uphill for quite a ways and it didn’t take long for me to remember a sled was in tow! The trip down the other side of the hill was a welcome relief!

There are a couple of Iditarod checkpoints along the way and I was delighted to find two of my Soldotna neighbors still working the Ophir checkpoint. We didn’t visit long because I was bushed and needed to jump into the sack. Sleep didn’t come easy because it was very cold. I can’t tell you how cold it really was because this is a family magazine.

It seems that nobody travels from McGrath to Ruby after the Iditarod dog teams have passed through. This would be a bad place for me to get hurt, and although I had to keep up a fast pace because I was running low on food and supplies, I also had to remain vigilant for my safety. The long stretch from Ophir to Cripple, then un-manned, and on to Ruby, brought on a loneliness that pecked away at my will to continue.

Booty Road Part III As I walked down out of the hills above Ruby, the Yukon River was a very welcome sight. I headed straight to Ron Inlow’s house and after eating as much of his food as I could find, I pulled my sled into his storage room and opened it up to dry. Ron is an old friend from my youth. I was able to sleep in a real bed and eat real food for a couple of days while visiting with him and many others, including Mr. Whitekeys, who provided music and comedy entertainment. There was no shortage of adult beverages for all who were celebrating the Iditarod Sled Dog Race, before heading down the Yukon River.

I said my goodbyes with very little fanfare, hooked up my sled, and off I went. My next stop would be Galena.

Leaving any kind of civilization and heading back into the cold loneliness requires a certain amount of mental fortitude. Many people consider folks who do things like this to be NUTS, and it’s hard to argue with such assertions. I have been told that I have no business telling anyone else they are nuts.

The weather wasn’t bad as I made my way down the Yukon River toward Galena, which is about 50 miles from Ruby. I might have made it to Galena that day if I had started earlier. As it was, I decided to pull my sled a short distance off the trail and get a good night’s sleep after the festivities in Ruby. I was sound asleep and didn’t hear the snow machine until it was just outside my tent. Whoever it was stopped, shut it off and asked, “Denis, are you awake?” I unzipped

the door and watched as three people climbed off the machine and said they had a beer for me. It was a man and two women who had been partying in Ruby and were on their way back home to Nome.

The next thing I knew, all three of them were in my little tent sitting on me and handing me a beer. The Inupiaq and Athabaskan people in this part of the world have little comprehension of personal space and that’s fine with me. I can honestly say I know how a couch feels.

I drank my beer while propped up on one elbow, visited while they drank theirs, and as quickly as they appeared they said goodbye and left. As I mentioned earlier, I have been very lucky to have friends along the trail.

After a short walk the next day, I spent the night in Galena with a very nice couple who fed me a steak with all the trimmings.

Since I didn’t know anyone in Koyukuk or Nulato, and would have had to leave the main trail, I passed them by and headed for Kaltag, the last village on the Yukon River. From there the trail winds up into some of the prettiest country along the trail. It’s about 85 miles to Unalakleet from Kaltag and the last few miles follow the Unalakleet River. It’s not uncommon to see people ice fishing in this area. Unalakleet is on the edge of Norton Sound with a population consisting largely of Inupiaq people.

M A R C H - A P R I L

20 1 9 27

Booty Road Part III The trail runs north out of Unalakleet and passes behind Blueberry Point hill. About half way to Shaktoolik is the abandoned reindeer farm of Egavik. It was owned by Lomen Reindeer Corporation and operated full scale between 1913 and 1938. More information about this interesting venture can be found through the University of Alaska Fairbanks digital archives. Although the buildings are very run-down it is still apparent that this was a thriving operation back in the day. One of the archived pictures shows a Sikorsky S-39 Flying Boat on the beach with reindeer in the background.

The trail follows Blueberry Ridge north with Besboro Island several miles offshore clearly visible. Roughly two-thirds of the way to Shaktoolik, the trail drops down onto the shore and passes abandoned buildings and Beeson Slough. Barriers have been constructed in an effort to control snow drifts; they didn’t seem to work very well. One thing that stands out in my memory of Shaktoolik is how much emphasis is put on outdoor sports such as cross-country skiing. At the school there were racks and racks of skis positioned on the wall near the entrance.

I really enjoyed visiting Shaktoolik and I did not relish the prospect of crossing Norton Bay. Often times the sea ice isn’t safe. The trail crosses a small cape of land and passes by a shelter cabin near Reindeer Cove before heading across the bay to Koyuk. Crossing this bay seems to take forever as there are no close landmarks to let you know how fast you are walking. This probably isn’t a big deal while riding on a snow machine or a dog sled, but it really was a drag, no pun intended, for me.

Koyuk is located at the mouth of the Koyuk River and is 90 air miles from Nome. It was incorporated in 1970 and has a population of about 350 people give or take. As in most villages, the post office was an important stop for me; it was usually the first place I would go because my wife sent supplies “general delivery” to yours truly.

In Koyuk I expected to receive the last care package from my wife, containing Mountain House freeze-dried meals, Top Ramen, energy bars, jerky, pepperoni sticks, and my all-time favorite, candy. I would take what I needed and give any surplus to the first person I encountered. The people of Koyuk are extremely friendly and some shared their home with me.

previous trip). The trail descends to Golovin Bay and I walked the last five miles on wind-blown ice. After a brief visit there, I crossed Golovin Lagoon toward White Mountain, 18 miles away. I had a friendly reunion with people I met on my previous trip, including Father Brown, and ended up spending a couple of days in the village visiting and reading at the library. People in White Mountain were impressed when they heard about the charity component of my walk to Nome.

The trail goes through low-rolling tundra, then runs up the Klokerblok River, and a series of low ridges, to the Topkok River. It continues up to a saddle above Topkok Head where the view on a sunny day is beyond spectacular. From there it is a steep downhill trek to the Nome Kennel Club cabin at the coast where I spent the night. It was easy going the next day from the kennel club cabin to Safety, where I spent my last night on the trail in my sled. My last day of walking felt surreal and, as luck would have it, the weather was perfect.

As I contemplated finishing my Power of One Walk from Big Lake to Nome, I reflected on the loneliness that I frequently encountered on the trail. I am a people person so visiting with the Iditarod trail breakers who prepared the trail for the dog mushers, check point workers, and people in the villages was engaging for me. I was scratching at the surface of connectivity when watching a jet fly overhead brought me nearness to people, particularly after the Iditarod Dog Sled Race finished and encountering others on the trail was rare.

It was an emotional time as I flew home, looking out the jet window at the Iditarod Trail below and the vastness of remote Alaska. I am 67 years old now and probably will not walk the trail again, but I will never forget the many kindnesses shown to me during my walks to Nome. I encourage anyone who has the opportunity to travel the Iditarod Trail to undertake the adventure! The beautiful aweinspiring scenery and the wonderful people all along the way will not disappoint.

All of the money raised by my walking the Iditarod Trail in 2002 was forwarded to the designated charities. A

Leaving Koyuk, the trail follows the ocean ice along the shore for 12 miles (this is where I was attacked by a rabid red fox during my first trip to Nome), before heading inland behind Bald Head crossing Kwiniut Inlet and then reaching Moses Point. Eleven miles past Moses Point is the old Moses Point FAA Station. My next stop was just outside of Elim where I spent the night. The next morning, I visited briefly with local community members, feeling a strong push to finish the trip. Heading toward Golovin the trail took me over the Kwiktalik Mountains (where I ran into a wolverine on my

28

L A S T F R O N T I E R M AG A Z I N E www.lastfrontiermagazine.com

DENIS DOUGLAS Visit LastFrontierMagazine.com to read Booty Road Part I & II.

SALMON RISOTTO WITH BROCCOLI AND SWEET POTATO ITALIAN COMFORT, ALASKAN FLAVOR RECIPE BY LINDSEY VANTASSEL

R

isotto is a creamy, cheesy, and comforting Italian rice dish perfect for the leftover cold Alaskan weather of March and April. Also, it is a great way to use any leftover salmon you

may be clearing out of your freezer in anticipation of fresh salmon to be caught this summer. Risotto is a dish that can be made with many variations and flavors, so do not feel locked in by the add-ins from this recipe. Find the flavors you love and get creative!

INGREDIENTS (SERVES 6) • 1 cup smoked salmon or 2 cups baked salmon • 1 large red sweet potato • 1 head broccoli • 2 Tbs olive oil • 3 Tbs butter • 1/2 chopped onion

• 1 Tbs minced garlic • 1 1/2 cups short grain rice • 4 cups chicken broth (warmed but not boiling) • 1 cup water • 4 oz shredded parmesan • Sliced lemon (optional)

DIRECTIONS Cut broccoli into 1 inch pieces and peeled sweet potato into 1/2 inch pieces. Heat olive oil in a saute pan over medium to medium-high heat. Add broccoli and sweet potato to pan. Saute and stir every couple minutes for about 10-15 minutes until just tender and slightly crispy on the outside, adding more olive oil (or butter) as you need to keep the vegetables from sticking. Salt and pepper to taste. When done, set aside and begin risotto.

Melt butter in a large pan (I used my cast iron Dutch oven) and saute onions with garlic over medium heat until onions are slightly translucent. Add rice and continue cooking, while stirring, for a couple minutes to coat the rice with the butter. This will help the rice grains retain their shape and not turn to mush. Now reduce heat to low and start adding broth about 1/2 cup at a time. You want to add the moisture gradually and constantly stir (a wooden spoon works best) while the broth cooks into the rice. When finished with the broth, start adding water gradually until the rice is tender and cooked but still holding shape and firm. You may need more or less water depending on your rice. The broth and water process will take about 20-25 minutes. When finished, remove from heat and stir in parmesan. Lastly, stir in or top with broccoli, sweet potatoes, and your cooked salmon.

Drizzle lemon juice on the whole thing or serve with lemon wedges.

Enjoy! A

M A R C H - A P R I L

20 1 9 29

TRUE TALES FROM AN ALASKA STATE TROOPER A LOOK AT LIFE IN DELTA JUNCTION FROM 1974 - 1975 STORY BY DAVID H. CARPENTER

W

e had the boys singing “Home on the Range” as we drove the last ten miles into Delta for the first time in June 1974, knowing there were bison in the area. We fell in love right away with this small town, located at the junction of the Alaska and Richardson Highways. This is one of the few towns in Alaska that you can travel out of in three different directions by road, each going through completely different terrain. Following the Richardson Highway northwest takes you through a hundred miles of hilly country to Fairbanks. The Alaska Highway to the southeast leads you through mountains and by numerous rivers to Tok and then east to the Alaska/Canada border. Taking the Richardson Highway south leads you up and over a high mountain pass with rugged snow-capped peaks and glaciers on both sides. There was a lifetime of experiences possible in this wilderness country filled with wild animals. It was perfect for our young family with adventurous blood, ready for hiking, fishing, and exploring.

The town had no side streets then, just the highway. There was a lumberyard, general store, liquor store, bank, trooper post/courthouse, and four bars. The building of the Alaska Pipeline was just

30

getting under way in the early 1970s and there was a pipeline construction camp located just a few miles outside of town.

The previous state trooper had quit and left the town without any form of law enforcement for a few months. The local people had gotten used to that idea and some were getting drunk and racing their cars up and down the highway, right through the middle of town. The middle of town just happened to be where we three troopers had just moved in to our state-owned mobile homes. It didn’t take long for the locals to learn that we were there and active.

Our mobile home was secured tightly to a cement foundation, because, as we later learned, a previous mobile home on that site was hit by the famous Delta wind and sent across the field, rolled up into a ball. Out in the side yard of our residence was an old weather-beaten shed. It was about four feet wide and eight feet long.

There were no windows—just a solid wooden door. It had been the local jail before the new one was built.

L A S T F R O N T I E R M AG A Z I N E www.lastfrontiermagazine.com

We were advised before leaving my previous post in Anchorage that our state housing in Delta was completely furnished, so we sold all of our furniture, beds and all. I felt bad for my wife, Linda, when we walked into the trailer to find it empty except for a telephone sitting on the floor, the phone Linda needed because she was expected to be my volunteer dispatcher.

A wide variety of people lived in Delta. There were the locals who made their living in areas such as farming, retail sales, government work, or working for the newly arrived pipeline camp.

There were the non-resident pipeliners who were mostly from Texas. We also had soldiers from the nearby army base at Fort Greely, numerous hitchhiking transients, and the Sleepy Hollow bunch. Yes, we had Sleepy Hollow people. They lived back in the bush off a dirt trail and were trying to remain old-fashioned in a relatively modern world. They had a hand-painted sign on their trail that read, “If you enter Sleepy Hollow, be prepared to step back 50 years or you won’t come out alive.”

Linda and I worked together giving driver’s tests and issuing licenses, another trooper wife’s volunteer job.

When we started cracking down on drivers and their licenses, many of the Sleepy Hollow people hurried in to get their outdated licenses renewed. One man’s license had not been renewed for so many years that it was handwritten. This is the honest truth!

Above: Dave Carpenter’s last day working as a blue-shirt trooper. He is standing in front of the Arctic entry to his family’s mobile home. The rough looking shed on the left was the Delta jail before a new one was built. June 24, 1975

The amazing thing about the different groups of people living in this area is that none of them got along.

This was never more obvious than in the bars. We had one bar in particular, the most popular in town, where many fights took place. After repeatedly receiving calls to come and break up bar fights, we troopers recommended to the owner that he hire someone who might be able to keep the peace and stop the fights before they got out of control. The guy he hired turned out to be a bigger problem as he was tougher than any three guys combined in town, and he loved to fight. We weren’t getting called to break up bar fights, but too many patrons were getting roughed up. So we had to recommend that the bar owner either calm down his new employee or get rid of him.

A number of comical incidents happened while we were stationed in Delta. One of them was the “Case of the Barefoot Burglar.” I received a call one night about a lodge out on the Clearwater River that had been broken into and money stolen from a secret cabinet.

As I approached the lodge, with flashlight in hand, I did a walk-around checking all four sides of the building. There in two feet of snow, at twenty below zero, was a set of footprints. Not boot prints, but bare footprints. I was dumbstruck! They went up to a window, which had been broken from the outside. The burglar then had walked across the barroom, located the money, and went back out the same window. The tracks then went a few hundred yards to where he had parked his vehicle.

I took photos and drew sketches of the footprints and tire tracks. We didn’t have digital cameras or smart phones in those days. I interviewed the few people who were in the living quarters of the lodge, took foot measurements and eliminated them as suspects. It was pretty apparent

M A R C H - A P R I L

20 1 9 31

True Tales from an Alaska State Trooper that whoever the barefoot burglar was, he was going to be suffering some foot damage.

I put out the word around town and it wasn’t long before the bar directly across the street from us called and said a kid showed up there with frostbitten feet. I picked him up. He was 17 years old and very talkative. He said he knew we could identify boot prints and figured if he went barefoot we wouldn’t be able to track him down.

Then there was the case of the “Peanut Picker.” This story is somewhat of an embarrassment to me, but I’ll include it anyway. While driving through town late one night, I saw a tractor-trailer rig parked near the highway in the parking lot of one of the local bars. The side door on the trailer was open and I saw movement in the dark interior. Thinking that possibly someone was getting into the contents while the driver was in the bar eating, I turned my patrol car around and came up alongside the trailer door with my window down. I shined my spotlight inside the door and instantly a large gray object came reaching out of the trailer toward my face. It had a finger-like protuberance on the end of it. It happened so fast that, even though I was seat-belted in, I felt the car roof crushing the top of my Stetson hat as I nearly jumped out of my skin. Then I realized it was an elephant!

There were three heaters on my rig: one for the dipstick, one on the engine block, and one in the vehicle cab. There were still no guarantees that it would start, so I had to leave it running all night when I was on call. Around three o’clock in the morning I would get up and drive over to the highway department’s garage where I refueled the rig. I would then bring it back home and go to bed, leaving the car running. Even when we did everything right and were able to get our vehicles into gear, we still had the problem of all four tires being flat on the bottom and frozen that way. Many times we had to drive to emergency situations with ‘square tires’ for several miles until they finally rounded out.

I got out of the patrol car, walked around to the driver’s side of the rig, and saw “Jumbo the Elephant” painted on the trailer in large letters. I checked the cab and found the driver sleeping. After I woke him he explained that whenever he stopped the rig, he had to open the trailer door for Jumbo, or the elephant would get nervous and start rocking the trailer. I made the mistake of letting my friends know about the “Peanut Picker” incident and took serious ribbing for a long time afterward.

Winters in Delta are severe. It can get just as cold in Delta as in Fairbanks, but while Fairbanks doesn’t get much wind in the winter, Delta does.

A lot of people make the mistake of driving in the wintertime with their car heater on high and their coat on the back seat. That works fine until you crash your vehicle and are pinned in it, unable to reach your warm gear and get it on. When that happens in severe cold, unless someone arrives on Right under our window, the scene immediately, you are in danger of freezing about three feet away to death. We never had anyone freeze to death while I was in Delta, but we did send a few accident victims to from the house, was an the hospital with frostbite injuries. Leaving the heater entire herd of bison runturned down and being dressed warmly could have prevented those injuries. ning by as if they had

When the temperatures were been stampeded. colder than forty degrees below zero, school was called off.

We saw our thermometer go down to eighty below zero! The three trooper patrol cars had to stay outside as none of us had a garage. In the coldest part of the winter that caused several problems. We had to back the vehicles into our driveways when we arrived home because when the vehicles got extremely cold we couldn’t shift the gears in and out of reverse.

32

We had many interesting incidents in Delta involving bison. They are a beautiful animal and we enjoyed having them around. I remember one moonlit night we were awakened by a couple of sharp barks from our Labrador who was in his doghouse outside. After those two barks, he was silent. I jumped up out of bed and looked out the bedroom window. I was stunned at what I saw. Right under our window, about three feet away from the house, was an entire herd of bison running by as if they had been stampeded. Even more incredible, there was no sound. We had about two feet of snow on the ground, but still you would think

L A S T F R O N T I E R M AG A Z I N E www.lastfrontiermagazine.com

True Tales from an Alaska State Trooper

We had plenty of moose in the area also. It’s not uncommon in Alaska for a moose to fall through thin lake ice. Sometimes they are able to get themselves out and sometimes not.

One day I was flagged down by a local man who said there was a moose trapped in the ice on Quartz Lake, just a couple miles away.

We drove back and found her still there, about thirty feet off shore. I was able to walk out to within ten feet of her and throw a loop from my emergency tow rope around her neck. We hooked the other end of the rope onto the back of the man’s four-wheel-drive pickup, and by pulling very slowly and carefully, the moose was able to get back up on the ice. After about ten minutes of standing and catching her breath, she trotted off into the woods. That was the first time I had rescued a moose from a lake, but it would not be the last.

I started to realize that while I was breaking up bar fights and chasing tail lights, the Wildlife Trooper was doing the things I had actu-

“

ally come to Alaska for. He was running the riverboat and climbing mountains as part of his duty. So in 1975, Linda and I put in for a transfer to the “brown shirts” (Wildlife Protection). We were accepted and offered a choice of transferring to either Valdez or Kodiak Island. Luckily, we picked Kodiak, which was a great place for a family. It turned out to be one of our most enjoyable posts. A

DAVID CARPENTER Born and raised in Gratiot County, Michigan, Dave Carpenter married his high school sweetheart, Linda Thum. He attended Central Michigan University. At the age of 26 he moved his family to Alaska. He spent 20 years working for the Alaska Department of Public Safety. They were 20 years of excitement, adventure, and danger.

Dave attended the University of Alaska and received his Police Administration degree. He retired from the Department of Public Safety in 1994 and is a lifetime member of the Fraternal Order of the Alaska State Troopers. After retiring to Idaho for a few years, Dave and Linda moved back to Alaska where they currently live in Wasilla near their sons and families.

“

there would be some kind of rumbling sound. There wasn’t. It was dead silent and very eerie with the moon in the background reflecting on the snow and the herd of bison running. This “ghost” bison herd was within a few feet of our dog’s house, and he was cowering in the back of it, not making a peep. That was probably the smartest thing that dog ever did.

I have three words regarding my PFD:

Potential Future Degree.

Let’s start putting my PFD to good use.

Here are a few valuable advantages that the Plan offers: • Easy to enroll. Just answer “Yes” to the UA College Savings Plan question on your or your child’s PFD application to get started.

• ACT Portfolio. Allows you to purchase UA tuition credits at current rates for use in the future.

• Professionally managed. Choose from a range of investment approaches.

UACollegeSavings.com

• Save in Alaska, Study Anywhere. Use your

savings at any eligible university, college, technical or vocational school, or even K-12 public, private, and religious schools.

• $25,000 Scholarship. When you contribute a PFD to the UA College Savings Plan, you’ll be automatically entered to win a $25,000 scholarship account.*

1-888-4-ALASKA

If you are not an Alaska resident, you should compare this Plan with any 529 college savings plan offered by your home state or your beneficiary’s home state and consider, before investing, any state tax or other state benefits, such as financial aid, scholarship funds, and protection from creditors that are only available for investments in the home state’s plan. Go online or call the number listed above to request a Plan Disclosure Document, which includes investment objectives, risks, fees, charges and expenses, and other information that you should read and consider carefully before investing. | Offered by the Education Trust of Alaska. T. Rowe Price Investment Services, Inc., Distributor/Underwriter. *Certain restrictions apply; visit UACollegeSavings.com for complete rules.

201812-677784

M A R C H - A P R I L

20 1 9 33

Friends don’t let friends miss the PFD application deadline.

Practically speaking, a PFD is like the windfall of your wildest dreams: predictably arriving in October, worth at least hundreds of

Paperwork is no fun. Government bureaucracy, budget fights,

dollars (often more), good at any retailer, and even multiplied by

politics, all of that really-not-fun stuff envelops the Alaska

each additional child you have. So missing out is unspeakably awful.

Permanent Fund in a suffocating fog. Yet, Alaskans pay close

But somewhere between January, when the application period

attention for good reason.

begins, and March 31st, life can get crazy. Who knows what we get busy with? It’s still winter, after all, and one might assume there isn’t

There are plenty of explanations out there about what exactly the

that much to do. Maybe it was a vacation, or school assignments,

Permanent Fund Dividend (PFD) is, how one qualifies, and so on. I

or work drama, or the brain fog of cabin fever. Whatever it was,

recommend pfd.alaska.gov for all the official descriptions, details,

March rolls around leaving us frighteningly close to missing that

dates, etc…

crucial deadline.

Personally, I think of our Permanent Fund, and its annual dividend

This has actually happened to some Alaskans. Missing out on a PFD

disbursements to Alaskans, as an astounding example of an

that one was perfectly eligible for is a sickening loss. You can see it

economy bucking the prevalent trend of deficit spending. Many

in their faces, a hollowness behind the eyes in the place where the

major world economies fund current expenses by borrowing on

brain calculates annual income and compares it with Alaska’s high

their grandchildren’s and great-grandchildren’s income. Years ago

cost of living.

Alaska did something very different and invested surplus oil income into Alaska’s future economy, creating something that grows more

I could get a dozen reminders a day to file my PFD application

of what was put into it, something we hope our descendants will

and I would thank every person for their consideration. Applying

perhaps even thank us for preserving. It’s not an entirely altruistic

for our PFD is perhaps the most profitable chore any Alaskan can

investment, as we Alaskans also expect to enjoy our annual PFDs

complete. In this, procrastination simply doesn’t pay, but in case

for ourselves.

we are absent-minded, we can count on our fellow Alaskans to have the PFD very much on the forefront of their minds.

However, with the hassle of tax season overlapping the PFD application period, it can be frighteningly easy to forget. By all

P.S. Don’t let March 31st pass you by. If you haven’t applied yet, get

means, be sure to file those taxes, but personally, my husband and

on it! You can thank me in October! A

I always apply for the PFD before doing taxes. Between the two of us, those two deadlines, and all the helpful reminders from others, we sure hope to never get so absent-minded that we miss out. An approved PFD application is worth the effort!

Stick around, because in each new volume of Last Frontier Magazine we dig deeper into the many mindsets, modalities, and manias that make up — The Alaskan.

34

L A S T F R O N T I E R M AG A Z I N E www.lastfrontiermagazine.com

M A R C H - A P R I L

20 1 9 35

36

L A S T F R O N T I E R M AG A Z I N E www.lastfrontiermagazine.com