Journey to Dead Horse Alaska

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For sleeping in a place where the lights never go out, we actually slept quite well. We went to the dining room at the agreed upon time, involving a long walk across the foot bridge from the dormitory for breakfast. We sat down with Mike who was busy chowing down on his hot breakfast with coffee. He says he needs the coffee to stay awake, and we didn’t see anything wrong with that. I got an over-sized chocolate chip cookie and a Dr. Pepper; and, shared the cookie with Sharon. We’ve pretty much noticed two things about the diet of Alaskans: They love their chocolate chip cookies and the love Dr. Pepper. Both are found in abundance just about everywhere we’ve gone.



We needed to be on the road at 7:15AM sharp, and Mike had made that crystal clear. We had a 7:30AM appointment to stop and visit with Jack in Wiseman, Alaska. But rules don’t apply to some people I guess. Mike had to go looking for the one couple, and it was the man who was late, and the woman explained, “He’s coming, he’s coming…” It was after 7:25AM when he finally did show up; but, as we’re on our way, he’s discovered that he’s forgotten his sunglasses, or more correctly, that his wife has forgotten HIS sunglasses. Mike circled back, and then he indicated that he knew where they were and he didn’t need to stop. Mike was heading south now, and I asked Mike “This is a test of your navigator, right? We’re headed south…” Mike chuckled and we started to head north. Then the man decided, “No, he really did need to check the room!” Sharon suggested I run in and check his room; otherwise the whole rear of the van would need to get out. The sunglasses weren’t in the room. So, we were on our way, now after when we were supposed to be chatting with Jack. We drove slowly through Wiseman where about 12 people live year-round. There are more buildings that that; but, some of these are just for summer use.



Jack is a lean rugged looking man of about fifty, self-taught in many fields, and lives capably off the land using many green and energy efficient techniques. His first wife died a few years back; but, he remarried, and they had a girl. His wife had forbade conducting tours, and they had ceased for a while. Then she became concerned about raising their daughter in such isolation, and so now she lives and works in Fairbanks. He measures energy in pounds of wood; because, he needs to get and haul all that wood. The roof of the extension to his house that he built, and in which he can cook and relax and entertain tour groups is a scant over six feet high, and I needed to watch my head from things hung from the ceiling for convenience. He explains that in the cold of winter, a tall roof, as you might find in an A-Frame, would waste way too much heat concentrating heat near the ceiling. He had hunted his one moose during the 30-day period that he is allowed to hunt on his subsistence license in May. He’s not allowed to use an ATV to hunt or haul the moose carcass out of the woods; so, he needs to find his prey near enough to a road to haul the moose out by himself. He cuts the carcass in the field into seven sections, and hauls each of these to his truck. He does not skin the moose in the field, because that would take too much time, and he needs to secure his prey before some bear stumbles on his moose. This meat he ultimately stores in his root cellar which is accessed through a door in the floor of the kitchen that we’d seen. He had solar panels on the roof of his addition, and claims that they’ve been operating for nearly 40 years. He generates his own power with a versatile Honda motor; and, Jack would have made an incredible story to endorse Honda engines. If you’re thinking that Jack’s story would make a riveting Reality TV show, you’d be right; and, he was approached for just that. He insisted on retaining full editing rights to any such production; but, that didn’t work for the producer. Jack then took us for a walk thru the village stopping first at the Sleeping cabin he built for his 3 kids that are now grown. He said it kept their noise and music away from the main cabin and that the kids loved it. It was very cute. He then took us to another building, which his mother had used to create a small chapel for Wiseman, where people still regularly meet every Sunday. Jack noted how some deterioration is occurring in the logs of this building; but, he has plans for adding several vertical log supports that have been treated with a motor oil slurry that will prevent rot, and this will provide adequate support for the walls and keep the building safe. He learned this technique from a visitor who told him how they used this in Africa where it’s so important to get the best use of any available wood. We saw his mother’s grave outside in the cemetery, and there is a sign designating the lot as Wiseman’s Cemetery. Buildings on Jack’s property have many antlers on display. He took us to another building with a large homemade heating tank in front, and noted that this is for visitors who come to witness the Aurora Borealis. The best viewing sometimes occurs when it is forty below, and there are some hearty tour groups that make the trip. There were many more things that Jack could have talked about; but, we’d run out of our allotted time. Jack had another group of tourists who had a scheduled tour.



While we were walking around Jack’s place we were getting eaten alive by mosquitos; although, they didn’t seem to bother Jack much. Sharon was really being tormented. We got back in the van, and I reached for the mosquito zapper. This tennis racquet looking device is wonderful, effective and fun. I pinned a mosquito between the windshield and the head of the racquet composed of several layers of crisscrossing wires. I pressed the button, and: ZAP. ZAP-ZAP. Three star bursts ignited on the surface of the racquet. Ah, I love the smell of zapped mosquitos in the morning. We’ll have to get one of these when we get home for the flys.



We were on our way, and Mike challenged us with one of his riddles. “A very well-dressed man was riding on a bicycle. Beside him rode a shabbily dressed man upon a unicycle. What is the difference between the two?” Well, we pondered this for a while, and he did admit that this was another joke that his granddaughter had pleaded with him to forego. It really should have been obvious, I mean, what the difference is: A(t)tire. Mike might have totally bombed with that riddle, if he hadn’t then spotted two moose. We stopped, and were able to take some pictures.



Vegetation along the Dalton Highway was getting shorter and shorter. Mike noted at one spot that a Black Spruce had once stood here and even had its own placard commemorating it as the Northernmost Tree where it had stood in solitary existence where no other trees could be seen. Unfortunately, a couple years back somebody got the bright idea to take an axe and cut a ring around the bottom of the tree, killing it. Now, the tree is gone and so is the placard. People can do some really stupid things at times. Mike told us yesterday how two drunk brothers got drunk one night, and one started taking shots at the pipeline. The result was a 200,000 gallon spill and massively expensive cleanup effort. The shooter got ten years in jail. Mike marveled that he must have been a pretty good shot, because it would have taken at least two bullets hitting the exact same spot to puncture the stainless steel casing of the pipeline.



Continuing on the Dalton Highway Mike again stopped rapidly, and then backed up, noting that he’d just spotted something that he’d wanted us to see. He showed us where the snow was supported by the permanent ice ledge of the permafrost. Melting water had revealed this just beyond the pool of water that had formed between the road and the other side where we saw the structure of the permafrost. We were heading up the long steep grade towards Adigun Pass in an area subject to constant avalanches. Road crews are constantly busy trying to keep the road open which is the lifeline to Prudhoe Bay. And we’re talking about avalanches of rocks and boulders down the steep rocky cliffs. We’d passed a sign warning: “AVALANCHES NEXT 7 MILES – DON’T STOP”. Mike pointed out where a mountain slip thaw was threatening the road.



Perhaps to distract us of the avalanche dangers, Mike then began talking about his family, and the good natured rivalry between those of his family who live in Anchorage and those who live in the Fairbanks area. “Those who live in Fairbanks say that the good think about Anchorage is that you can see Alaska from there!” And those Anchorage folks, they tell Mike that Fairbanks have people with frozen brains. Mike also has a number of pilots in the family, which is not uncommon because some places you can only reach by air. Even the turquoise guy on the train claims that he had his pilot’s license before he had a driver’s license. One uncle flies for FedEx. Another female cousin flies for Alaskan Air. Sharon inquired, “Does she fly Samon3Samon’s?” Mike confirmed that she does. Sharon then asked, “She’s not the one who hit the fish, is she?” I’m not sure Mike understood what she meant by that, but shook his head all the same.



We crossed through Atigun Pass. To the south water flows to the Bering Sea. To the north water flows to the Arctic Ocean. About a quarter mile later there was a pullout overlooking a steep cliff to the Arctic bound stream below. There was a large flat area on which we were parked. In front of us the dirt pullout sloped downward for quite some way towards the edge. I could see this from my shotgun seat, and then I saw the twinkle in Mike’s eye. He was glancing back to see people’s reactions, exclaimed “Oh no!” His hand came off the steering wheel and the van lurched forward of the edge of the incline. The car tilted slightly to the left and by this time everyone in the back was VERY wide awake certain they were about to die. But then they saw that they weren’t falling over the edge after all, and Mike was chuckling and everyone else were pretty thrilled not to be about to die. And then everyone laughed.



We drove down the mountain and found ourselves at the base of the Brook’s Range. Since the top we were on the North Slope of Alaska. On the flat the vegetation remains close to the ground. This area of Alaska has more mating pairs of birds than anywhere else in the world, which boggles the mind for such an apparently barren land. We drove up and around a lake and made our way to a very remote picnic spot just beyond a small airstrip. Mike and his partner had trucked a picnic table out there, and we were surprised to find a German off-road vehicle parked in the vicinity. Mike said that it was not uncommon for Germans to come here with these rugged vehicles and to go off-road touring in formidable locations. I can’t even imagine what it must cost them to ship such a vehicle from Germany to Alaska (for a vacation). It didn’t appear though that they’d found the well-hidden picnic table which was beyond where they’d parked down a trail that would have been easy to miss as a trail. Again, we had to assemble our sandwiches. After lunch Mike went off on a solo sojourn looking for fossils by the creek.



We had to retrace our steps to the Dalton Highway, and were on our way. We encountered a bicyclist going the other way. Mike offered her some trail mix; but, she declined saying that she had all that she could handle. I thought that she said that she was on her way to Argentina, which would be impressive. We wished her luck.



Mike pointed out an Arctic Squirrel. Mike noted that when they hibernate that they basically turn into a block of ice. He did say that they do need to wake up every now and then to shiver, and then they turn back into a block of ice.



Wildlife is easier to spot now that there isn’t vegetation for them to hide behind. Next we spotted some Arctic swans. We made a stop to walk upon the Tundra. It’s a bit tricky as the plants there grow in mounds and the ground is bouncy. Mike mentioned that it’s amazing how the Caribou can run across this type of land so well.



And then someone exclaimed, “Is that a bear out there?” “Where?” Mike questions. “There, right there!” “Where’s right there?” Mike asked. And as has happened more than once before, Mike just couldn’t get people to use the O’Clock system for directing wildlife searches. It was at our four o’clock when Mike came to a stop. It was quite distance and a large dark blob was moving slowly, so I started to get excited. I popped out of the van and started taking pictures as best I could. The verdict seemed to be that what I was capturing was a muskox; but, that’s okay too! It really was so far off that I couldn’t quite make out details in the view finder; but, the pictures confirmed that it was a muskox. The wind was blowing quite hard and the chill was biting.



We came across another female cyclist heading towards Dead Horse, and by her accent she was definitely German. She was in great spirits, and Mike advised her how to get to the Deadhorse Camp (where we would be staying). I think she was interested in the good food and all you can eat part for both dinner and breakfast buffets. Our next wildlife encounter was a group of caribou and we stopped to take some more pictures. Sharon took those from her side of the car.



We came across another restricted driving area; but, arrived just as the Pilot Car was departing. We followed for quite some time as crews were working piling on material to raise the height of the road. Mike noted that the road had washed out in several places just last year. We were approaching Dead Horse, the public accessible part of Prudhoe Bay. When Prudhoe Bay was discovered they needed an airstrip, and the Dead Horse Construction Company was hired to build that airfield. It required a number of very large and heavy pieces of equipment. When they’d finished construction, it wasn’t cost effective to pack up the equipment and ship it south by barge so they just left the equipment where it was near the airstrip. People would see the equipment, and the Dead Horse name, and started using the name and it stuck. The town of Dead Horse was born. That was about when the Pilot Car sent a rock careening towards us, taking small hops as it rolled rapidly along the ground towards us. At the last minute it bounced high in the air towards the window on my side. Mike said, “Wow, that was close,” as the rock sailed about one foot over the cab and off to the side. I was speechless. The only other rock that we’d encountered that I saw had come from the previous Pilot Car. It had bounced in front of us and struck the undercarriage. Along the way Mike was noting quite a variety of birds; but, we couldn’t stop because we needed to keep up with the pilot car. Mike acknowledged to us that we were his favorite type of tour group, one that is engaged, interested in Alaska, asking questions, and not too big or too small. Mike just found out where we had lunch that there would be just two people on his return trip to take back, which is better than dead-heading back home; although, he does enjoy that when his granddaughter can join him. They have no fixed schedule when they deadhead (travelling with no guests just to get the van back), and he and his granddaughter have gone off to explore some pretty interesting places. He thinks that she’ll make a great tour guide as a summer job when she goes to college. He then confided, “My least favorite type of visitors are birders. They’re the worst. They just sit there looking out the windows with their binoculars and say absolutely nothing, checking off birds in their life list. And that’s all they’re interested in: Birds! Could care less about the history, land, oil, other wildlife… just BIRDS! I mean, I like birds well enough, and I can spot them, and there’s even a few that I like. Imagine: Only being interested in BIRDS!”



Just before reaching Dead Horse we got another reported “Bear Siting” from our spotter in the back; although, this one was unconfirmed. The “bear” didn’t seem to be moving all that much and it was very far away. I always thought that the Grizzly Bear was the biggest of all bears (except of course for the polar bear who really is the granddaddy of them all); but, in Alaska it is the Alaskan Brown Bear who hibernates just four months of the year and grows fat by feasting on salmon. In Alaska, they refer to the Grizzly as the bear living on the North Slope who hibernates about six months of the year, and may subsist entirely on berries and vegetation. The Alaskan Brown bear is in fact a Grizzly; but its size that can be two to three hundred pounds more gives rise to the distinction made by locals.



We arrived at the Dead Horse Camp, also acquired and now managed by NATC. They recommended that we checkout our rooms, get our luggage stowed, and wait until 6:45PM to eat, so that the resident work crews who just got off work could finish eating. The crews here work two straight weeks of 12 hour days, typically working from 6AM to 6PM. The accommodations here were a barracks style with two beds to a room with no bathroom. The women in our group were giggling a lot when they examined their common shower and bathroom area, with a single shower and 2 stalls with curtain doors. It was dinner and tonight we had pork chops. I couldn’t resist the turtle cheesecake which was delicious. I also had a delicious biscuit. All meals are homemade and you actually are in the kitchen to get your food and talk to the chef and his assistant. You have to wear plastic gloves when getting things to avoid germs.





After dinner, we drove around Dead Horse and stopped at the Dead Horse Mall (i.e. General Store) which Sharon said is twice as big as it was 10 years ago since they added a new room for clothing. I bought a hat commemorating our visit to Prudhoe Bay and Sharon bought a knit hat for our trip to the ocean in the morning. We returned to our room and were happy to note that we had 3G phone service. I called my mom to let her know where we were. Again, we had sunlight pouring in the window all night.

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