wildlife – Page 2 – The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

September 15 Magical Joseph

Currently in Rocky Point, cloudy breezy and 57 degrees F

For thousands of years, this land has been home to the Nez Perce, “Nimiipuu”. It is a magical place, tucked away in the remote northwest corner of Oregon, off the beaten track. For the past several days, I have been writing about the things to see and do, but in the midst of all the natural beauty, the scenic drive, the magnificent mountains, there is more to this place.

The Nez Perce National Historic Trail begins in this spot, home to Old Chief Joseph, father of the famous Chief Joseph who led his people on a sad but epic journey that ended just 24 miles from the Canadian border, where his band of hungry men, women and children would have found refuge. Old Joseph refused to sell his native lands, fought and signed a treaty that gave the Nez Perce 8 million acres “forever”. Later, when gold was found here, the US Government decided that he should sign a new treaty, giving up his ancestral homeland and 7 million of the original 8 million acres. He refused, and thus began the story that ended with Young Joseph’s famous words, “I will fight no more forever”.

I have traveled through Nez Perce lands ever since I decided back in 1972 that Idaho would be my soul home. Then again in the 80’s I learned much about the people and their land as I worked the Weippe Prairie, the terraces along the Clearwater River, the Camas Prairie, once ancestral grounds covered with gorgeous blue camas that provided rich nutrition for the people.

There is a special site just south of town called Iwetemlaykin, and no, I can’t pronounce it either. Just a small parcel of rolling grassland, near the grave of Old Chief Joseph, 62 acres honoring the ‘place by the lake’ where you can walk the trails in silence and contemplate the land that was taken from the tribe. This land is familiar to me, the Nez Perce story is important to me. I sat for quite some time in Nez Perce photo exhibit on Main Street in Joseph, looking at historic and present day photos of the people. I have danced and sweated with Nez Perce teachers dear to my heart. My old Nez Perce hand drum still sits in a place of honor on my shelf. Maybe that is why it feels so good to be in this part of the world.

Or maybe I am just a sucker for fresh air, clean water, gorgeous mountains, and really cute little shops and restaurants. Yeah, I know, I am a romantic, and Joseph is the perfect place for someone like me.

In addition to the Nez Perce story, however, there is another story from Wallowa County that captured our interest. We read about the Maxville Heritage Center on our way to Joseph, and spent quite a bit of time looking for it. Once located in the town of Wallowa, it is now at a new location in Joseph, next to the Art Center on the north side of town.

Big surprise, the Logger’s Daughter was right there, and met us at the door to share her story and the PBS film that featured her search for the people and history of Maxville. When the Bowman-Hicks Lumber Company from Missouri founded the logging town, it brought African-American families with logging experience from the south to work and live in Maxville.

At that time, Oregon was almost entirely white, and segregation laws were strict. In spite of that, the people worked side by side until the town died and disappeared. Gwen was a delight, and her work and the story of Maxville are a great Oregon treasure.

So many things about Joseph are a surprise. The beautification projects that began more than a decade ago have created a lovely place to walk and enjoy really nice little shops. Almost every restaurant has outdoor seating and is dog friendly. The galleries are gorgeous, and I especially loved the restored bank building that houses the Stewart Jones Designs gallery. There is a chocolate shop with fine artisan chocolate makers, and I tasted a salted caramel right from the melter and had to buy a bunch, at a whopping buck and a quarter each. Worth every penny.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

I had a great birthday breakfast in the Old Town Cafe, enjoying every tasty morsel and the view of the mountains was gorgeous, even under cloudy skies. We visited the gallery housing more of the magnificent bronze sculptures that decorate every corner, with prices ranging from a mere $3,000 to more that $50,000. Who buys this stuff anyway?! The owner said that people come from all over the world to buy bronze in Joseph. In fact, the bronze medallions that decorate the World War II monument in Washington DC came from Valley Bronze in Joseph, Oregon.

The day before, on Saturday, we spent some time at the wonderful farmer’s market, small but still filled with fresh, organic food and local honey and jams. Perfect greens, heirloom tomatoes, fresh flowers, easter egg radishes, tiny little squashes, it was all there to tempt me into filling the small RV fridge to overflowing.

The town itself would be delightful even without the magical setting of the Wallowas and the Zumwalt Prairie to the northeast, the clear Wallowa Lake to the south. I kept looking around wondering why we couldn’t manage somehow to do for Klamath Falls and our lovely old downtown what progressive folks have managed to do for tiny Joseph. I spent a lot of time talking to the shopkeepers about this, asking what was their magical formula.

Sadly, some told me it was their ability to run a business that didn’t have to make a profit that made it work. Most of them had supplemental income and lived and ran a business in Joseph specifically because it was worth it to them to live in such a magical place. The most repeated phrase was, “Everyone here is here because Joseph called to them”. Not many of the shopkeepers were historically local, with the surrounding area populated with ranchers who didn’t actually shop much in town, according to one woman I spoke with.

Still, whatever they have done, we get to reap the benefits of a sweet little place to rest, relax, eat great food, see beautiful art and sculpture, drink in the skies and the views and the history, and leave refreshed and restored in so many ways.

Then again, there is always the story of OR7, or Journey, as he was named by the schoolkids of Oregon.

OR7 was part of the famous Imnaha wolf pack and was for a time the only wolf in the state of California as he journeyed far from home trying to find a mate. OR7 spent some time in the Wood River Valley, in the Cascades near our home, and one dark night, out in the hot tub, Mo and I heard him howl. Last I read, Journey is somewhere nearby in Western Klamath County or Jackson County. Like me, he left his homeland, wandered thousands of miles, and ended up back in Oregon. Gotta love that wolf.

A Day at Hart Mountain

Currently we are in Summer Lake Oregon Cloudy High 64 low 32 currently 48 We are heading back to Rocky Point this afternoon

Saturday May 25 Mostly Sunny High 58 Low 37

When the animal alarms went off at 5:30 this morning I looked outside to see crystal clear skies and a sun already nearly over the eastern face of the mountain. The magic hour, morning light. Rather than dawdle around, we got up and dressed, had our morning coffee and breakfast and were on the road east to Hart Mountain by 7am.

The road to Hart Mountain follows a track east from Plush, past old homesteads and hay ground, through the Warner Wetlands and along the northern edge of Hart Lake before turning to gravel. I am a sign junkie, so was tickled to find the wetland interpretive sign I had seen somewhere in a brochure. I didn’t realize that the Visitor Information Center was simply a series of kiosks and some shade shelters with signs.

I discovered once again why I need a fast! and much better telephoto for my Nikon 5100 than the cheapie one that I have. Those birds just refuse to come into proper focus no matter how many shots I try. No tripod probably doesn’t help, but I think it has something to do with the autofocus as well. When I manual focus it isn’t any better. Ah well, an Erin I will never be. Still, I included some of the photos just for fun to remember who was hanging around the wetlands.

We continued north along the road, coming to the Hart Mountain Antelope Refuge entrance sign, with a small campground just inside the boundary called Camp Hart Mountain. Surprisingly, this nice little camp is just a step up from boondocking, and still free.

The host couple told us that the Fish and Wildlife Service can’t figure out what to charge, so they left it free. There is potable water at the main shelter with picnic tables inside, very large open sites, and as I mentioned, a camp host. Nice for those long days when you leave your rig to go exploring on roads you might not want to take the big shiny RV.

Continuing up the road as it passes along the east side of the Warner Wetlands, we saw a few other boondocking opportunities on some BLM land along the lakes, but the east side of the road is all refuge and not open to parking. As we started up the steep hill east into the refuge, we saw a small sign, “Warner Overlook”. Perfect place for a short hike to the viewpoint on a gorgeous morning.

The desert stretches to the west, and the complexity of the Warner Wetlands follows the base of the ridge as far north as we could see. An interesting phenomena was the “bathtub ring” left along Poker Jim Ridge left behind when the huge Miocene lake receded as the climate went from moist tropical to dry desert over a few million years. There were lots of flowers blooming on the ridge, mostly varieties of Indian Paintbrush and buckwheats. It was a delightful walk.

Continuing east into the refuge, the road is still gravel, but very steep until it tops over the uplifted ridge and the eastern desert stretches to the distant Steens. The Scenic Backway continues along this gravel and dirt road for many miles, all the way to French Glen at the base of the Steens. It is a beautiful drive. I have a friend from Rocky Point who said she and her husband towed their fifth wheel all the way to French Glen across this road, nearly 100 miles, but they would probably never do it again. I have no desire to ever take the MoHo even as far as the Refuge Headquarters just 20 miles or so from the valley!

We decided to drive the Blue Sky road along the eastern edge of the refuge early in the day in order to see more wildlife and catch the early light. We hoped that this time we would be able to continue all the way around and connect up with the Hot Springs Campground in a full loop. We were a bit too early for many of the side roads which were still gated closed, including Skyline Drive, Black Canyon Road, and Old Military Road.

It was on the southernmost edge of our drive that we saw the most wildlife. Pronghorn are not technically an antelope, although the refuge is actually called an antelope refuge. This time of year the herds are fawning and so are more dispersed than usual when hundreds of individuals can be seen racing across the hills. Pronghorn actually developed their incredible speed during a time when there were two species of cats similar to cheetahs that were their main predators. They can run up to 45 miles per hour. Combined with keen vision and speed, they are usually only subject to predation when very young or ill.

The other wildlife species that is especially important on this refuge are the sage grouse, with a drumming chest and elaborate spring strut that is a renowned spectacle in the high desert springtime. We were a bit late for the courtship rituals, which occur in March and April. We didn’t see any sage grouse, but what we did see was gorgeous desert habitat thick with abundant grasses, healthy because no livestock grazing has been allowed in this refuge since 1994. We also saw areas that had been burned, as part of the habitat management to encourage more grasses and to stop sage from encroaching on the lush meadows, so important for the pronghorn.

Continuing west toward the base of Hart Mountain’s east slope, we saw only 2 other people, a couple of guys on 4 wheelers. There are stern rules about not going off road, and it appeared that these guys were obeying the rules. The rest of the morning we had to ourselves. Keep in mind that this was Memorial Day Weekend, and people were few and far between. The last time we camped at this refuge was Labor Day in 2004, and back then it was just as quiet, with just a few campers in the Hot Springs campground.

At the turn to what is called Blue Sky Camp and the road to Warner Peak, we were again stopped by road closed signs, and most disappointing of all, the road to Hot Springs was closed as well. Seems as though the only time of year to make this loop in a vehicle would be after August and before the fall snows. We had hiked the road from the campground end when we were here before, but this was just a day trip, and that hike wasn’t on the agenda for us.

We returned the way we had come, stopping to try out another side road that was open and on the map appeared to continue across the ridge. Instead it stopped at a small rather nondescript little meadow at a place called Robinson Draw Day Use Area. Ok then. We used the day use area to have our snacks in the car and then drove back out to the main road and headed back toward the turn to Hot Springs Campground.

The road into the campground was as we remembered, more decently maintained gravel for a few miles before you rise over a ridge and see the campground and meadow hot springs spread out beautifully below the snowy mountain above. I was excited about the hot springs, with wonderful memories of the white sandy bottom of the natural spring out in the meadow.

We drove around the campground a bit, checking out the camp sites, including the one we used so many years ago. With the recent burning of sagebrush, it didn’t look very appealing, and another area had been opened up along another draw that seems a bit claustrophobic along the brushy creek.

Finally we parked at the beautiful hot spring, surrounded by a stone wall erected many years ago by the Order of the Antelope. The spring itself is about a 8 x 10 foot rocky hole in the ground and the water is only about 97 degrees F at this time of year. It didn’t look particularly inviting at the moment, although I do remember great soaks there when we were here before. Instead, I wanted to wander out into the meadow to find my favorite little spring. There is was, a bit bigger than it used to be and a lot siltier. I ran back to the car to get a suit on and by the time I got back to the spring there was a bather already settled into the little pool.

Hot Spring culture is often dominated by natural sorts of folks who really like to soak sans clothing and this was no exception. The nice guy floated in the water and was very friendly and conversational with me while his parts floated conveniently just below the surface. I wasn’t too anxious to jump in with him, but I sat on the edge of the grass and dangled my legs while we talked for some time about the springs and he pointed out the next small spring up the meadow.

I wandered off to check out the spring, but it was incredibly small, with three different streams entering of different temperatures, and the only hot clean spot was about 2 feet wide and surrounded by saturated deep grass. Nah, maybe not. Then, as I turned around to walk back, I saw that the single bather at the first pool was leaving. Mo had been walking around with Abby, (she isn’t much of a hot springer), and I called her to bring the camera. I was getting in that pool and wanted the photo to prove it! Sure enough, it was warm, about 103 or 104, and while the silt on the bottom made it seem a bit murky, just under the silt was that nice hard sand I remembered.

Abby decided that the pool was a little bit strange, with all that warm water, and I got her in, but not for long. It was wonderful to be in the hot water, with great minerals and no smell at all. There wasn’t a sign of sulfur in the water. and after it settled a bit, the water was crystal clear. My friendly bather had stirred up all the silt, I guess just to get a mud bath or something, but by the time I finished soaking the water had cleared beautifully. ahhh.

We drove back out of the campground road, stopped at the refuge headquarters to talk about antelope and weather, and found that it had been 11 degrees F the morning before. Sure am glad we didn’t try to camp there then! It can be cold in these deserts! I picked up some brochures about the local birds and wildlife, and found a nice little brochure that lists 12 different day hikes that are available. There are also more than 200 bird species that have been recorded in the refuge and another brochure has a handy bird checklist.

We decided to take the road north to Petroglyph Lake with a short 4 mile hike that leads to petroglyphs on the basalt walls on the north side of the lake. Instead, we found that the rough basalt rocks in the road were too much to try to do with a patched spare tire, and with several cars parked just beyond where we could drive, we decided that it wasn’t worth it. There were a bunch of hikers getting ready to do the trip with packs and walking sticks and it wasn’t exciting enough for us to deal with the people. I guess we are getting spoiled with all this alone time and space and people seem like a jarring intrusion somehow.

We drove back down the steep gravel road with the gorgeous vistas of the Warner Wetlands and the desert, overlooking the distant sunstone digging area where we were yesterday, the white trailers just tiny dots on the horizon. On the way down, we saw a little sign to Warner Pond Day Use Area, and flipped a quick turn to follow a steep dirt road back up the face of the mountain slope. This road was really steep, and even in 4 wheel drive, the little Tracker did a bit of slipping and sliding. At the end of the road, however, was a precious jewel of a tiny fishing pond, even with a dock to launch a boat! We wondered just how anyone would haul a boat up that road unless it was on the top of their pickup.

Our hiking on this trip has been limited for reasons not mentioned until now. When cleaning house before we left, I was rushing around the kitchen and slipped on the wet floor and slammed my foot into something or other, who knows. Mo was gone, I laid on the floor for a few minutes feeling sorry for myself, and my foot turned blue half way up the midstep. I think I broke my big toe. Not particularly fun, and not particularly conducive to any kind of lengthy hiking trips. At least I can still walk, but thought I might mention why we haven’t been doing much hiking on this trip.

We traveled back home along the same route to our lovely boondock site, still empty and quiet and cool enough for Jeremy. The weather had cooled quite a bit and it looked like rain, so we settled in to relax, read, and nap till dinnertime. It would be Jeremy’s last day of desert freedom since our next stop will be in Summer Lake at an RV park, not likely a place where we can just let Jeremy out to play so easily. By late afternoon a few pickups and 4 wheelers drove past our campsite, waving to us, but no one attempted to infringe on our nice open boondock site. The site is big enough to easily accommodate several rigs, so I am glad no one decided to bother us.

Bison, Burros, and a Beautiful Place

We drove the wildlife loop in Custer State Park on August 1

The history of the Black Hills, as with many other places in the west, is marked by the discovery of gold. As a sacred place to the Sioux, prior to the white man, its unwritten history extends far into the past. The pivotal shift, however, was in the summer of 1874 when Lt. Colonel George Armstrong Custer discovered gold near the present day town of Custer City. Even though the land belonged to the Plains Indians, under the Treaty of 1868, thousands of gold seekers poured into the area and illegally occupied the newly discovered mountains of gold. But that is another story. Sad, controversial, and horrendous.

By 1897, when Custer State Park was first established as South Dakota’s first state park, Congress granted sections sixteen and thirty-six of each South Dakota township to be used for schools and other public purposes. The parcels, scattered throughout the Black Hills timberlands, were difficult to manage and in 1906, the state began negotiations to exchange the scattered parcels for a solid block of land. In 1910, South Dakota relinquished all rights to 60,000 acres of land within the Black Hills Forest Reserve in exchange for 50,000 acres in Custer County and 12,000 acres in Harding County. In 1912, these two parcels of land were designated as Custer State Forest, and later became Custer State Park.

Now, with more than 71,000 acres of protected land, the park is the second largest state park in the country. Now the park is home to a healthy herd of more than 1,300 buffalo, but in 1900 it was estimated that less than 1,000 bison remained on the entire continent. Peter Norbeck, “The Father of Custer State Park”, saw the seriousness of the issue and took action by purchasing 36 bison to start the herd at the park. By the 1940’s, the herd had swelled to more than 2,500 and the parks rangelands were beginning to show the effects of overgrazing.

Now there is an annual roundup, held in late September, where the bison are herded into the Buffalo Corrals and the size and structure of the herd are adjusted according to the predicted availability of grassland forage. Although much of the park is forested, and the day before we had traveled through the winding roads of the Needles area, the southern portion of the park, with its wide open gorgeous rangeland truly caught my heart. Ungrazed by cattle, the native grasses are still dominant, punctuated by islands of forested hills and drainages lined with cottonwoods and elms.

We started our day before 8am, hoping that we would see more wildlife by leaving a bit earlier. The wildlife loop that leads south from 16A is only 18 miles long, but I could have happily spent the entire day just wandering the narrow roads looking at the buffalo, laughing at the burros, taking photos of wildflowers and enjoying open rangeland that seemed to look much as it might have looked before that fateful day in 1874.

We encountered our first group of animals even before we left the main highway, and the fuzzy photo of Mo and I is due to the complexity of trying to get a shot while a motorcyclist sped through the intersection, spooking the buffalo into a charge across the pavement. They can move amazingly fast! Crazy tourists!

Once south on the wildlife loop, however, the landscape opened up, and we encountered several different groups along the roadway. They are amazing animals. Relatively docile by nature, they can also be unpredictable and there are numerous warnings in the park to this effect. Most of the calves are born in May, with most cows having a single calf. Buffalo can live to 40 years, with an average lifespan of 25. They need little care, with instincts for survival that cattle seem to lack. They can survive brutal winter storms and at times care for their young in sub-zero blizzards.

A few miles south on the wildlife loop is a beautiful small visitor center, another lovely building crafted by the men of the CCC. A large group of buffalo were grazing around the center and the volunteer inside laughed with me and said, “Please don’t ask where the buffalo are!”. I guess that is the most often asked question and much of the time the buffalo.

The buffalo aren’t the only treasure along the route, however, with pronghorns, mule deer, whitetail deer, mountain goats, elk, coyotes, prairie dogs, bighorn sheep, many birds, and burros calling the park home. The burros aren’t native in the Black Hills but were used to haul visitors to the top of Harney Peak in the early days of the park. The rides were discontinued and the burrow were released into the park where they have become an undeniable well loved visitors attraction.

We were tickled to find the burros along the southern portion of the loop, and of course have the requisite photos of sweet and silly burro faces reaching into our car windows looking for treats. We didn’t give them any, so they eventually ambled on. I especially enjoyed a young colt who laid his ears back and pointed his back end toward the car. Mo was a bit worried that we might end up with a scar on the Tracker! I noticed that the young ones were a lot more wary of the cars and people than the older tourist- adults.

In addition to the animals, we found several areas of summer wildflowers, including the bush morning glory which has an amazing taproot that can be as much as eighteen inches! in diameter and four feet long. We also saw a beautiful bluestem pricklypoppy, an plant that animals carefully avoid because of its harsh spines and unpalatable juices. Leadplant, found throughout the prairie, is nutritious for livestock and prairie Indians made a delicious tea from the leaves.

Finally returning to Highway 16 via HWY 87, we continued west to the town of Custer. Reading the brochures, we thought the Woodworking Museum might be an interesting “attraction” to try out. With Roger and Nancy in their own car with Jackson and us in the Tracker with Abby, it worked out well for visiting areas that didn’t allow dogs, since we could take turns watching our pets. The Woodworking Museum was nice, interesting, and something you don’t see every day, but I’m not sure it was something I would chose to do again.

We drove back into the town of Custer and found a great little spot for lunch where the food was really great, the service was wonderful, and the dogs were welcome. The Cattleman’s restaurant is touted in the tour books but when I saw the patio I swerved into the Frontier Grill, a place that looked a bit more like a biker bar than a restaurant. What a great choice! We then walked around town with the dogs, enjoyed more dog friendly art galleries and shops, took photos of the wonderful art buffalos around town, and topped off the afternoon with ice cream from the Purple Pie Palace, in spite of the long lines.

I wanted to see the Crazy Horse Memorial, and it was a top choice on my list, but by the time we drove north to the memorial, the two hour time commitment and $10 dollar per person fee, and the worry about the dogs again was just too much and the group consensus was to view the memorial from a distance. I took some distant photos, felt sad that it worked out this way, but realized that sometimes I just have to adjust.

Since I didn’t get there, here is the website for something that other bloggers have called the best thing to see in the Black Hills, and here is the mission statement of the foundation:

The mission of Crazy Horse Memorial Foundation is to protect and preserve the culture, tradition and living heritage of the North American Indians. The Foundation demonstrates its commitment to this endeavor by continuing the progress on the world’s largest sculptural undertaking by carving a memorial of Lakota leader Crazy Horse; by providing educational and cultural programming; by acting as a repository for American Indian artifacts, arts and crafts through the Indian Museum of North America and the Native American Educational & Cultural Center; and by establishing and operating the Indian University of North America and, when practical, a medical training center for American Indians.

It’s not over yet

I woke up this morning missing Alaska and the Highway, the open road with no cars, the memories of the road to Valdez, the road to Haines, the utter silence of Joe Lake on the Denali Highway only a memory in my mind. We are parked in the Wal-Mart in Cranbrook, British Columbia, just 50 miles north of the border and this morning will be traveling to visit our friends in Bonners Ferry and spending the night there.

I have the past three days still to talk about and remember, thank goodness I have the photos to remind me.

I still have the camera to take the photos which is amazing, but that also is part of the story still to write. These last few days have all run together, filled with the magnificence of the Rockies, Alberta and the beautiful Canadian National Parks. There are still gorgeous photos of beautiful mountains and lakes to come, the rest of the story is still to be written. The stats of the trip to soon be calculated, more than 7,000 miles so far and more to come.

Parking at the Wal-Mart here has been delightful. It was a long day yesterday trying to find a place to be on a hot August Saturday night in an area that is focused on golf and resorts. Wal-Mart is filled with RV’s, but still not as crowded as the slide to slide packing we saw in the few RV parks we passed yesterday afternoon. We have free Wi-Fi right here in the rig from the McDonalds down the street. Enough for now, just know that there is more to come. We still have several hundred miles to go before this trip is finished.

I had no clue that the trip would be as amazing as it turned out to be. I had no clue Alaska and the Yukon would capture me the way it did. I had no clue. Enough for now. There will be plenty of time to write about the past few days on the long road home.

August 4 Day 30 another day in Haines

Miles driven today in the MoHo: 0

Looking at a google map of the area around Haines, it is obvious that water plays a big part in the economy and history of the town. When we woke this morning, the skies were dark and the rain was continuous, and we looked at each other and shelved our plans to kayak the lovely Chilkoot Lake.

Instead we spent the morning catching up on bills and email, reading some blogs (I can’t possibly catch up on 275 recent posts!), and managing photos of the past two days.

By late morning, we decided it was time to explore another part of town, and walked up and down Main Street laughing at the unique style that is so typical of these small Alaskan towns. Many shops were closed, since it was Thursday. Why Thursday? No doubt everyone needs a break after the cruise ship sails away on Wednesday night. We still managed to browse some local art, found the liquor store for a bit of wine, and the local hardware store supplied a much needed grill brush for my little bbq.

By 2, we decided to again drive out to bear world on the Chilkoot, but the tide was out and the bears were not around. I did manage to get a photo of the quiet Chilkoot Lake, and we half wished for our kayak clothes after all. A couple of kayakers were on the lake, probably because they purchased the trip and couldn’t back out. The clouds were black and the rain came and went. We can kayak any time, so decided not to tempt the rain gods with our presence on that lovely water.

Instead we drove back through Haines and south on the west side of the peninsula to the Chilkat State Park. The two parks are very different! The road to Chilkat is narrow and winding, and the park road itself is blessed with a 14% grade and some serious washboards. The campground was nearly empty and it was thick and dark with vegetation and had no view of the inlet below. In addition, just before entering the park is a local community that is ‘interesting’ to say the least. They seemed to think that cars would grow if they threw them around in the forest. The houses were all ‘unique’, and it appeared that most folks hauled in their water. We saw more junk at one place than I have seen at most junk yards, and every house had its own private junk décor. Very strange.

We found the day use area down on the inlet, and even in the clouds and gray skies, the two nearby glaciers shone pale blue in the gray light . Of course, I played with the camera, with plenty of time to set up the tripod and shoot a couple of F22 1/20 second shots while Mo let Abby go for a swim. I guess the water wasn’t as cold as it looked, because she didn’t want to get out when it was time to go.

Driving back toward town, we passed a fish packing establishment that advertised a gift shop ‘Something Fishy”, in addition to fresh fish and drove down the long dirt driveway to find…nothing. Many red buildings and doors, and a couple of people around, but everything seemed locked up tight with a closed sign on the gift shop. Later in town, a waitress told us that the owner was getting his car fixed in Anchorage, that his wife was running things, and his son should have been out there, but of course they do run things out there “on an Alaskan time schedule”. Maybe a bit like being closed on Thursdays?

Back in town, I wanted some fresh halibut to celebrate our last night in Alaska, and we chose the Bamboo Room and Pioneer Bar. Another unique Alaskan place with a colorful history, it didn’t disappoint us when it came to the Halibut and Chips. We split the meal, at 25 bucks, and it was more than enough for us. Not cheap by any means, but oh so good! I also had a cup of fresh homemade mushroom soup that I think was the best I ever tasted.

After our early supper we decided to drive back out to the bear world and were rewarded with Momma and her two babies running down from the forest to the fish weir below to catch their supper. There were fewer people around, but more distance between us and the bears this time. It was interesting watching the interactions between the mom and her two kids. The boy cub was obviously much more adventurous than the girl. For a long time, Mom fished alone, but then the cubs ran down to the weir and started begging for fish. She didn’t give them any right away, and finally the boy got enough nerve to jump in and catch his own fish. The girl cub was still afraid, kept reaching out to Mom, and sure enough in a few minutes Mom threw up a big fish to her waiting daughter. She did this a few times while boy caught his own fish, and before long all three bears were feasting on fresh salmon.

On the way back out Chilkoot road we an eagle above us so I stopped to try for some shots. I heard a cry and realized that his mate was calling to him nearby, so managed to get a shot of her as well. Even in the dark skies, it was fun to see the fierce eyes of these birds up close.

It was still raining sporadically and quite gloomy when we returned home, but another cruise ship sailing by from Skagway lit up the evening a bit. Tomorrow we will leave Alaska for the last time as we travel east into the Yukon, British Columbia, and Alberta on our way home. I am glad we took the time to come to Haines. When I planned this trip, it was hard to decide whether or not to take these roads from the main highway and Seward, Valdez, and Haines were iffy in the original plan. Still we haven’t had any reservations, and I am so glad. We have extended the trip by almost another week, and haven’t had to be anywhere at a specific time. It’s been wonderful.

The rest of the photos for this day are linked here

In case you missed it, the rest of the bear photos are linked here