Dall Sheep are the signature wildlife of Denali National Park because fear of over hunting that species is what motivated early conservationists to lobby for the park to provide some protection and refuge for the sheep.  The other critter considered as sort of mascot was the moose.  Based on our touring around today, that would have been a good choice as well.  On our way into the park this morning a mama moose and her calf tolerated some picture taking.  At the end of the day we found two young bull moose hanging out near the Riley Creek camp store.

Our plan is to spend some time in the front country before heading into the heart of the National Park. We are actually camping in Healy….Glitter Gulch, as they call the area around the Park entrance, is one continuous gift /souvenir shop with huge hotels perched on ever grander outcroppings trying to out do each other. A quick visit is about all of that I am interested in.

Day one we gain membership into the 30% club. The mountain was out and we saw it. Only 1 of 3 visitors actually see the mountain when they are here (it is shrouded in clouds about 2 of 3 days).

A hike along Savage River introduced us to the local Dall Sheep. Four of them were trying to figure out how to cross the rain swollen Savage River. We watched many false starts as they took turns considering that first leap that was required but they must have determined that it was really not such a good idea. They headed off downstream in search of a better crossing we presume.

A bull Woodland Caribou hung out on a gravel bar along the trail. He is looking quite dapper with his huge antlers and a much smoother coat than the fellows we saw a month ago in British Columbia. I suspect that the ladies will be checking this guy out this fall.

It rained again. I hung out in the motorhome all day. It was a chance to work on planning for the next month.

Kent journeyed out to the sporting goods store to buy his uber special Russian River red salmon fishing lures; bucktail streamer flies. We now have a yellow and a green. Stay tuned for the fishing report in early August

I’m ready.  I have my $5 pan from Fred Meyer and am secure in the proven panning technique fresh off a U-tube video.  I hustle across the cobble stone beach at Nome Creek. Alaska geologists claim that I have a “real chance” of finding gold flake or something bigger here.

First hurdle, where do I find paydirt?  Still water?  Fast moving?  Under a boulder?  I choose my spot carefully and shovel a big pile into my pan.  Shake.  Pour.  Wave.  Just like on the video.  It separates gravel and sand and leaves the gold.  Wrong.  Nothing.

A anxiously shovel another pan load.  Shake.  Pour.  Wave.  Nothing

I question my location.  We gather paydirt from across the creek…its got to be better.

Pan 3.  Nothing.

Pans 4,5,6,7  nothing

My enthusiasm is waning.

My butt hurts from the sitting rock and my back aches from the terrible posture.  It would all be fine though if we just found even a single flake.

We head 1 ½ miles downstream and collect THE paydirt.

Pans 8, 9, 10……you guessed it.  Nothing.

Over the course of 2 days we washed a lot of gravel without a flake of gold to show for it.

Fortunately it was a lovely place to camp.There are a number of recreational gold panning areas on BLM land.  They have all been commercially mined in the past but supposedly have various levels of residual gold for the taking.  The issue of course is the finding.  We had fun though entirely unsuccessful. Kent’s technique was a little different and he used a larger pan.  The results were the same though, just lots of clean gravel.  We plan a technique tutorial somewhere before we try it again.

It doesn’t get dark here in July.  We checked out the Fairbanks festival anyway.  They had some great music: a steel drum band, bagpipers, jazz groups from the army base, and the town band.  It was a friendly home town get together.

We got the car fixed.  To catch them before the holiday weekend we stopped in at the dealership on the way into town.  They were a little put-off by the mudball of a car needing service.  They got over it.  Turns out it was just the air conditioning belt.

If it were an Olympic event, the Dalton Highway after a few days of rain would be a prime training location.  The south end of the road has gotten markedly worse over the 8 days we have been up here.  Nearly continuous wet conditions plus heavy truck traffic have taken their toll. Kent repeatedly swerved or slowed to a near stop to navigate huge clusters of potholes and climb over pushed up sections of road surface.  He mumbled about soft spots and how slick the dirt they use to finish grade gets when it combines with water.  It made for a long day; 180 miles in 8 hours.  We are back on pavement now for tomorrow’s drive into Fairbanks.

Gray and rainy.  Clouds of voracious mosquitoes.  Tired butts from riding.  Tense driving conditions.  No wildlife viewings.  This was not one of our more fun days in Alaska.