Broadmoor

Yes, here we are in Fairbanks, Alaska, the second largest city in Alaska with a population for the whole city and environs of about 33 thousand people which is about 5% of the whole state. This state is very big, but very sparsely populated. As we make our way through Alaska and are now facing a homeward direction, it seems the state is packing up and leaving with us. When we arrived in Fairbanks, the hotel we were booked to stay at had closed for the season. Fortunately, through an arrangement between hotels, we were taken in by another hotel. This one remains open all year for the much smaller traffic that comes through winter. These guests are workers here, or apparently part of the large numbers of Chinese and Japanese tourists who flock to this part of the world to see the Northern Lights.

It is best not to say those words to me though. In the city that is best suited to see the lights, it was overcast and drizzly and no lights were detected. Some days ago I asked a desk clerk on the ship to ring through to our room if lights became visible, and after we clarified what we were talking about, she agreed to do this frequently requested thing. What caused the confusion was that I requested a call if the Aurora Borealis appeared. She did not understand me. I began explaining that glowing lights appeared in the sky at these latitudes... and she twigged. "Oh, you mean the Northern Lights. Certainly ma'am." Really?

After many nights of getting up every few hours, leaving my name for calls and sitting up in the open air looking for the lights, they did not appear. People kept suggesting I buy a postcard and that should be enough. Anyone can buy a postcard or watch one of the many videos, but far fewer can say they stood there under the open sky in Alaska and watched the Aurora dance across the sky in cascades of green. Even the briefest blink would have been enough. I could say I saw it. I could tell people I had watched something miraculous. Such is not to be. Enough said. Further comment may raise reactions the instigator may regret. You may just think of me as bitter and twisted with disappointment.

Our day, leaving Denali and arriving in Fairbanks, was quite lovely. We had to get on our bus quite early but we left an hour for breakfast. It was just as well. We shared a table with a couple from South Australia but who had a daughter living in Mordialloc, my old home. We shared a pleasant breakfast even if it was massive. I think I left more that I ate yet again. This time I did get to eat reindeer sausage with my scrambled eggs. When we had fifteen minutes till departure, we left our table to go to our bus. While we had been sitting there, the crowds had arrived and they were queued out the door. Some people in the queue were to be on our bus. The queue had occured because the regular buffet breakfast restaurant had "closed for the season" and everyone had been sent to the one a la carte restaurant which of course took a lot longer to prepare the food. I think some gave up on food. No-one complained though because we have always had too much food.

We took off on time and headed down the highway through golden, pillowy forests. It seemed so unnatural to see so much golden colour. It certainly makes the remark "There's gold in them thar hills" all the more poignant. There was certainly gold in the ground but I wonder if the miners considered the gold above their heads to be almost as precious because it was so transitory. It was also clear that in about two weeks all the gold will be gone and the scattered spruce will be the only trees visible on the hillside. We have been so extraordinarily lucky. Bill, our guide reminded us that this type of arboreal forest makes a ring around the planet and so from on high, this ring of gold would encircle the earth. Quite a magical notion to consider.

Our bus driver, Jesse, is clearly an autodidact as well as a petrolhead. He keeps mentioning informative books he is reading and on this trip he quizzed the travellers with the significance of the names of the rivers in Alaska. I answered that the names all ended in morpheme, "na". Most people just looked at him blankly when he said it was the derivational morphemic suffix. Only people who have studied linguistics would know this terminology and people in this group would never have had this option when at school. "Na" means running water and the prefixes are specific to place. He told a joke/story. A man and his son went out hunting in their 4-wheel drive but failed to return at the right time. A search party found them the next day, safe and well but with their 4-wheel drive stuck at the undercarriage on a rocky sandbar in the middle of a river. The man named the previously unnamed river, "Oshitna". Jesse reckons it is a true story. It got a laugh.

Our attention was drawn to the power station near Denali. Although Alaska is rich in oil, it oddly, and I think, unwisely burns brown coal for itself. I once lived near power stations that burned the local brown coal. It was dirty power, not very efficient and damaged the health of many in the valley. I accept the wisdom of keeping it alive as a back up, but worry about the health of the environment nearby if kept at high production. Solar power is completely out of the question because the sun is not strong nor consistent enough.

They are generally so well off with oil that every Alaskan, man, woman and child is given an annual cheque from the sale of oil. Last year it was $1600 per person. This revenue has also allowed the government to deny gambling licences in Alaska so there are no casinos or other forms of gambling in the state. Except one. In the town of Nenana, there is a famous lottery that goes back many decades. Everyone who lives there or visits Nenana is invited to guess the date and time when the river ice melts in the Nenana River. It is measured very scientifically and at a key point, the movement of a stick mounted on a tripod in the middle of the river triggers a button and the time and date is recorded. The prize can be several thousands of dollars. We were invited to participate, but I had to wait in a queue for the toilet and did not get around to doing it. The three cubicles in the women's toilet had no doors so we had a longer wait than we had anticipated. Only one person at a time.

After some hours of travelling, we arrived in Fairbanks. We stopped off at a popular supermarket chain, Fred Meyer, for some food. I apparently chose poorly. Some said they a great lunch but I had gone for a simple sandwich and ended up throwing most of it out. Too much meat for lettuce and quite stale bread. It seemed an odd place to stop for lunch, but there were many options for food choice from soup, to fried foods to salads, sandwiches as well as all the regular and vast array for everyday groceries, clothing and household furnishings all in the same shop.

After lunch we were taken on a Paddleboat ride down the local river. This was a most sophisticated and slickly choreographed three hours. We had been given the tip to sit on the left hand side. Good call. We had only been going for about a minute when we were alerted to a small plane that was about to take off from the river just ahead. It took off right next to our boat, then did a couple of loops before landing back down in a fancy swirling manoeuvre. It came alongside and the narrator of our journey spoke with the pilot. Both were miked to the paddleboat's sound system for our elucidation. As we continued, our narrator talked about housing styles and who lived in each house. One house had belonged to Susan Butcher, the four times winner of the Iditarod. Later we came up to the new dog sled training camp, still being managed by her husband (Susan died of cancer in 2006). Again, the owner was miked to the boat and took us through his spiel. He too had puppies aaaawww! They were so cute. He took some dogs out for a run and when they got back the dogs were uncoupled from the team and set free. They ran straight into the water for a drink and a swim. They were untrammelled fun.

On the return journey we stopped off at the replica Athabascan village. There, some of the team took us through a cultural display which was also well done. We were also shown how to fillet and smoke salmon (not in a pipe!). It had begun to drizzle lightly and so everyone was offered a plastic poncho and a rubber mat to put on the wooden benches so we could stay comfortable and dry.

Back on board, the paddleboat then drove on by the houses and every second house had someone out there waving at us. The last one was Mary Brinkley whose family had run the paddleboat business from its inception and who was grandmother to the narrator. (The captain was a cousin.) Mary came right down to the river's edge as she does twice every day to wave at the passengers, when she is not ballroom dancing. She is 92 years old!

On our way back to the hotel we were told that a suburb of Fairbanks was just a few kilometres away, but that this place was absolutely world famous. It is called North Pole. It has special Christmas shops and a very important Post Ofice that deals with all Santa's mail. You can write a letter there, post it and it will be delivered to your home in time for Christmas.

At dinner tonight I read to everyone at the farewell dinnner, a rather dreadful poem that I wrote while on the bus this morning. I explained that the rhyme had forced itself on me and had insisted on persevering. Only one word completely refused to rhyme nicely. There was only one word I knew that rhymed with "totem" and it seemed quite inappropriate for this poem and this audience. There was a hoot of laughter when people worked out the word! I then read the following piece of doggeral as my farewell speech.

"Ooh Canada", their national anthem rings,
And oh the voice of travellers ring,
In awe and wonder at its scenes
Of mountain, valley, trees and streams.

The green of pine and blue of spruce,
The sparkling white and turquoise blues,
Of glacier, river and mountain peaks,
Of vast vistas and stolen peeps.

And for the beasties large and small,
Who caught our eyes and made us all,
Reach for our cameras to save a sight
For later reflection. To keep memories bright.

The railway bear sitting high on his hill,
The Jasper Jack elk gathering Jills,
The Lake Louise cute little critter,
The squirrel that bounced, scrambled and skittered.

The painted turtle who wasn't there,
The dearest beaver who didn't dare
To show his face, but his lodge was built.
We watched all day then seemed to wilt.

The wolf, the cougar, the ptarmigan
Hid themselves time and again
We searched and scoured to no avail
Who knew the northern lights would also fail?

But,

The company of good folk sitting in a bus,
Who laughed, gasped and made little fuss,
Except as we cursed the many trees
that blocked the prettiest forest scenes.

Our almanac and guide and raconteur
of knowledge of trade in wood and fur,
Told us of the history, tales and totems.
Yes, Bill shared his passion for his native home.

Alaska is not forgotten, (though in the US.)
The midnight sun and Denali, best dressed.
It showed us caribou, moose and eagle
And blankets of golden forest most regal.

The sun shone on in the land of ice and snow.
Our weather committee worked to show
We Aussies bring warmth wherever we go,
But we take more back with our hearts aglow.

Oh Canada, the natives sing bold
And we from the land of the green and gold
Join in the chorus with much new gusto
Oh Canada, Oh Canada, Oh.

The Final Evergreen Tour, Summer 2018.

The audience made all the right noises at the right times, but I know doggeral when I see it. Soon after, Ross and I went around and said our farewells to each of the tables and the friends we had made and went to bed. We have to set our alarms for 4.45 to catch our flight to Seattle via Anchorage. Ross is anxious about waking up. I am anxious about how he will be when he does!Read more