Denali View South to Anchorage
(Updated with photos)
We slept well in our spot overlooking where Denali ought to be. When we awoke, not only was Denali not visible, but neither were any of the mountains we’d been admiring last night. At least we could revel in our success relative to the people who were stopping by this morning.
Debbie got the toaster out, to toast bagels for breakfast, then realised we had no power. We browned them in the propane oven, which was just as good. When Debbie came to get into the shower, we realised that the water heater was repeatedly failing to light, meaning our first tank of propane had run out. I switched it over to the second tank, but it was too late for Debbie’s shower to be any better than lukewarm. I elected to make do with a wash.
We drove to Anchorage. Things get urban a good half hour out of Anchorage, and suddenly it’s a lot like other parts of America, albeit with snow capped mountains prominent in the background, and frequent warnings about moose on the road. We have not actually observed any moose on the road, in our 4,000 km drive so far, although I suppose it might be a seasonal thing.
In Anchorage, we made a beeline for a laundry which Lonely Planet says does service washes. The idea was that it would free us up to do other things while someone else did the laundry. Almost there, we started questioning just how convenient this plan was. We’d have to drive all the way back to collect our clothes, and if we stayed where we planned to stay, there would be a coin laundry on site. So, we abandoned that plan.
At around the time of that conversation, we noticed a McDonald’s hoarding, advertising the McKinley Big Mac. We’ve not eaten at a fast food chain yet this holiday (unless you count a sandwich at Tim Horton’s), but this was a piece of local colour we couldn’t skip. I don’t really know what sets a McKinley Big Mac apart from an ordinary Big Mac, but it was a large burger that tasted of McDonald’s, and frankly it wasn’t a bad lunch.
Our Rand McNally street map of Anchorage indicated that just where you’d hope to find a road linking the road we were on, to where the RV campsite is, there wasn’t one. As navigator, I made plans to take a route around the roadless stretch, but the expected T junction never materialised. We went straight on at every crossroads, then the campsite was there. We’re crammed in somewhat, but considering the site is four blocks from downtown Anchorage, which is, you know, a proper city, and it’s wedged between that and a railway line, it’s pretty pleasant. There’s a wooded area through our rear window, and it’s quiet except when a train comes past, which isn’t that often.
We were advised to walk to the nearby “Ulu Factory” shop, to catch a shuttle trolley into town. We missed the half-hourly trolley by a couple of minutes, but Debbie insisted that the distance it went was laughably short. It was. We walked it in ten minutes. This was to be my cheap American clothes shopping chore day. There is no sales tax in Alaska. Debbie helped me buy two pairs of jeans from Gap, and a vast collection of T-shirts from JC Penney for $32. Then we separated so Debbie could shop at her leisure.
I browsed a games shop and a music shop, then wandered the streets for a bit. Anchorage’s downtown area is much like most other medium cities - prettier than Fairbanks, but nothing to write home about. But then there’s still those mountains in the distance. It seems like it’s probably a better place to live than to visit. The most potentially pleasant part I saw was the “town square”, but it wasn’t living up to that potential today, since it was a big building site. Heading back to the campsite, I found myself near the visitor information centre, on a street entirely populated by retaurants and souvenir shops. If you want something with a cartoon moose on it, this is your street. I learned that Anchorage is twinned with Whitby.
Closer to the campsite, I saw a man coming the other way carrying a fishing road and two foot long salmon. Through a gap in the trees I saw two more men in waders, standing in the river. I got closer and there were dozens of people fishing. It seems that if you have an office job in Anchorage, you can realistically pop out to catch a salmon.
A short distance upstream, a footbridge crossed the river at a weir, and I was able to look down on a river that was alive with salmon. Wherever you looked, they were swimming against the current, on their way to spawn.
I returned to the van, made some coffee, and wrote yesterday’s diary entry. After a while, Debbie showed up, laden with bargains.
Debbie put our laundry in a machine, and as it washed, I took her to see the salmon. She was as impressed as I was.
There are no fire pits here, so I cooked our reindeer burgers on the hob. They were good.