The town of Wiseman was born in the mining era.  It boomed then busted and now settled in to a tiny mountain town population 16.  Not even half that many were around when we visited today.  A Post Office that opened in 1909 and long ago closed stood sentinel at the entrance to town.   We strolled the dirt streets and admired the wonderful old log cabins.  Mining equipment occupied some portion of nearly every lot.  It is hard to tell what’s antique or what’s scrap or what’s just not being used today.  The beautiful Kalhabuk Chapel is tucked away on a back street.  It is a tiny log building, chinked with moss, insulated with rags and beautifully kept.  They still have service every Sunday.

One resident is a trapper.  He still makes his living selling local hides.  Wolf, bear, wolverine and more.

Then there is Clutch.  As we were walking out of town he called out.  “Want to visit a museum?”  “It is all about the history of town”  “It is free.”  We turned to see a gray bearded, overall wearing local with a big smile and a mug of coffee in his fist.  Who could turn down an offer like that?

Clutch ushered us into one of the cabins and it was absolutely filled with all manner of collectable.  There were handwritten family histories.  Newspaper articles.  Photos.  Mounted stones both rough and finely polished.  The very best thing though, his stories.        Of course we have no idea what was truth and what might have been exaggeration but they were wonderfully entertaining none the less.  The stories revolved around two main themes, ice hockey and gold mining.  He jumped between tales so fluidly it was all I could do to keep up.  I am pretty sure that if we go into the Hockey Museum in Fairbanks we will find his grandmother among those honored.  He had a wonderful story about buying a manikin (a flexible one so it could hold a hockey stick and skates), having an undertaker put a face on it to look like grandma, and a friend making an old time ladies hockey uniform for it.  Grandma is in a glass and oak case at the museum.

I am a little less sure about the ending of a long, convoluted story about a 35 oz gold nugget supposedly found on the very claim Clutch was working years ago.  Somebody ran off with it.  Then somebody claimed it was actually found in the Yukon, not the US.  Somehow it got into the safe at Dawson City (then capital of Yukon Territories).  The capital of Yukon moved.  The stuff in the safe was forgotten about.  Years later some guy in Whitehorse bought the safe at auction and when he had it drilled open; tada, a 35 oz gold nugget.  For all I know, the “guy in Whitehorse” was/is Clutch.

There is a formal tour into Wiseman as well but I suggest you do a walkthrough on your own so you can spend some time with Clutch.  It was great fun.

Car trouble.  A belt is coming apart and it makes that awful fwap, fwap sound as the frayed ends hit other stuff under the hood.  Thank goodness it isn’t our only transportation out here.  It isn’t impacting our plans much.  We will just take the motorhome everywhere rather than car side trips.  Once we are done out here we will tow it back to Fairbanks for the Ford dealer to work on.  More stuff you got, the more stuff can break!

The good: two moose munching away in roadside lakes and one of the biggest grizzly bears we have seen busted across the road in front of us.

The not-so-good: another grey, rainy, buggy day.  Clouds hung low into the valleys so it pretty much spoiled vistas along the way.

Day 3 brought us to Coldfoot, AK, actually Marion Creek BLM campground just beyond Coldfoot.

I have seen them various places before.  They are like a bug zapper only with these you get the satisfaction of actually targeting one and hearing him fry.  Given our most recent experiences, I can appreciate the appeal.

It was definitely the most miserable, non-restful night I can remember.  Dozens of mosquitoes, probably even hundreds managed to find their way into the motor home.  In the dusky midnight light the shadows hovered all around our heads.  They swoop at our face and hang there with that ever annoying buzz.  I pulled the sheet over my head but they find their way under it.  I got up and swatted and burned Pic to run them off. Kent even wore his head net to bed (I am sorry to say I didn’t take any pictures of that!).  It was a battle all night. Then it was time to get up.  AWFUL.  We are trying some new things tonight to see if we can avoid a repeat.  I will let you know how it works out.

“One of America’s greatest driving adventures.”  We started up the Dalton Highway today.  In day 1 we made it to just beyond the Yukon River Crossing, 60 miles of bumpy gravel road.  We met and were passed by a few truckers but they generally slowed and stayed on their own side of the road.  Some of the cars and pickups were less courteous in passing and slowing to meet.  Even so, it has been no where near as scary as the many stories we have been hearing.  The paved Elliot Highway was actually more of a challenge.  We waddled across 65 miles of near continuous frost heaves and slips at an average speed of 35 mph.  I spent the whole time in the right hand seat.  I don’t suppose my assessment of road quality is the most important one. Kent’s willing to continue the adventure.  We are continuing North tomorrow.

Fireweed is starting to bloom.  It supposedly blankets much of this area by late June/early July.  I hope to see more.  Pretty meager wildlife viewing; red squirrels and a handful of baby quail.  We are just getting into the panoramic mountain views.  I am looking forward to seeing what’s around the next bend.

No, we did not float away.  The Corp’s handiwork with the diversion dam seems to have handled the high water just fine.  We checked in daily as we came in and out of the park, of course.

Up to three inches of rain throughout the watershed lead to a high and fast Chena River.  Corp engineers and rangers are everywhere.  At first just watching and leaning but that evolves into measuring and driving the dikes.  A 7 mile long, tree lined, grass covered dry lakebed stretches out in front of us.  The gates on the dam close a bit. They are throttling to limit flow through Fairbanks.  The river rises and entire trees carried by the roaring currents come crashing into the dam.  The pile of debris grows.  The river rises on the banks upstream of the dam.  Small pools and swampy spots form out in the lake bed.  The Chena overtops her banks to form a lake several miles wide but no where near fills the prepared lakebed.  Somebody’s driveway bridge adds to the debris pile. Fairbanks suffers a bit of flooding on a park-side bike path.  The Chena retreats back into her banks and the lake begins to drain.  Looks like it all worked just like it was supposed to.

Some areas didn’t fair quite as well.  The road to Chena Hot Springs had 18” of water overflowing it.  The radio described it as “Impassable to some vehicles” seems that they take this sort of thing right in stride up here.   One of the businesses set up a car ferry using a low boy, more local creativity!  We passed on that.

Be it the Deep South or the Far North they all have a familiar feel.  We checked out the Fairbanks “Midnight Sun Festival”.  There are booths that sell: food, political candidates and political causes, crafts, T-shirts and general stuff.  There is live entertainment.  In Fairbanks that means three performance stages with acts ranging from cute local kids showing off their dance routines to loud, marginal rock music and some too-funny Alaska folk music.  Don’t forget the antique cars and the seemingly universal kettle corn (they call it sugar corn here).

In the new-to-me corner:  three amusements in the kids “carnival corner”.

Salmon riding- like bull riding Alaska style I guess.  The kids climb onto a huge fiberglass fish and hang on for dear life while it spins and flips and reverses directions.

Wipe out for kids: they stand on a pedestal in a padded ring.  A center post with two arms, one high and one low spins and the kids try to jump or duck the arms to avoid being knocked off their pedestal.  I saw a lot of summersaults and face plants.

Bounceback: each kid is in their own lane.  They are velcroed into a jacket with a giant bungee cord attached to the back.  The object?  Walk, run, stretch or lunge their way forward as far as possible before the bungee snaps them back to the start of their lane.

They found my limit.  I didn’t pay $9 for an elephant ear.  We did try some pulled pork from the Alaska BBQ association booth.  Not quite as good as from the south, not as smoky; but still pretty yummy.