Texas always seems so big
But you know you're in the largest State in the Union
When you're anchored down in Anchorage— Michelle Shocked
It wasn’t really a vacation, and Anchorage, I’m told, “isn’t really Alaska”; nonetheless, the time I spent in and around Alaska’s largest city is more than postcard worthy. Even in its more urban areas, the 49th state demands one's attention for the sheer size and scale of seemingly everything there. There are more than 15 hours of daylight in a summer day, tide differentials are in the double digits, and on clear days one can see the highest mountain in the country, Denali, from the city’s coastal trail.
Tourism is the main draw to Alaska, and of the other travelers I met, most were either heading for Denali National Park or the train station which would take them to a deep water port where a cruise ship awaited. I was tagging along on K’s work trip and so mostly there for what Anchorage had to offer, which despite being a way-station for most visitors, was considerable, including more than 200 parks and 250 miles of trails.
Much of Alaska runs on tourism money, and oil. It's about a 15-minute drive from Anchorage airport to downtown and in that amount of time, I learned that my driver had worked 15 years on an oil rig in Coos Bay before settling down in Anchorage. "It was very cold," he said. "We'd work for 45 minutes then come in for 15 minutes to warm up."
I was told that a lot of the oil money in Alaska has dried up in recent years, but everything that relies on tourism has survived. So the former oil rig worker now ferries travelers around town, which he didn’t seem to mind, one of those people who is cheerful, alert, and like many immigrants I've met from more beleaguered countries, still committed to those he left behind. He interrupted our conversation to take a call from a relative in Ethiopia.
He said he returned every year for several months each winter, even though there's fighting there now, too. "We finally got our independence and then…." he shook his head.
"How did someone from Ethiopia get to Alaska?" I ask. Then I learned he was actually from Sudan. "I walked out of there when I was 10," he says, "and lived in a refugee camp for four years." Between then and now, he found asylum, earned a degree in Nebraska (he knew about the Sandhill Cranes there) and worked on those rigs before landing in Anchorage.
People are amazing.
Though much of the draw in Alaska is the wildlife, including the birds.
We were staying within easy walking distance of the Tony Knowles Coastal Trail and the Westchester Lagoon, both full of birds and birders and where I spent most of my mornings. Given the large tide difference, everyone rushed to the shore at high tide to look at the sandpipers and plovers and godwits when they would be closest to shore. I discussed Hudsonian Godwits (which I did not see) and Semipalmated Plover and Cackling Geese with a series of tall, white, older men carrying scopes and binoculars, some who had been there for hours already. A local woman was showing two visitors from Texas a family of Tundra Swans on the lagoon and we debated whether a shorebird next to some ducks was a Spotted Sandpiper or a Solitary Sandpiper. Standing on a platform near Chester Creek, I noticed a small animal scamper under a log.
“Weasel!” I said.
"Ermine," one of the locals corrected.
Also lurking in the woods, signs cautioned, were Moose. After recommending some other birding hotspots I might visit, another birder advised I take boots…and pack bear spray.
We didn’t see Moose or Bear during this visit, but we did see “Hamilton.” There wasn’t a whole lot of live music I could see happening in town, but on my first morning in town, I noticed the show was opening at Broadway Alaska on Thursday night. Despite it being on its third North American tour and more than a year past its recorded version, we had yet to see it. It was also the production's first touchdown in the 49th state (a Herculean feat of coordination and shipping detailed in the program) and the debut show of Broadway Alaska period. When I checked for tickets, I saw a smattering of availability including two choice orchestra seats. The theater was, unsurprisingly, full. Before the curtains rose, I chatted a bit with the person next to me, who had spent the past 35 years living in Juneau (which he described as “a mountain town that was practically an island”) where he could ride his bike to go skiing and kayak into the nearby passage.
Then the show started and we were whisked away. Top-notch performance value, excellent singers and actors, snappy dialogue, nonstop music. What fun! It was close to 11 and the last of the sunset was glowing in the west when we left the theater, buzzing with energy, and I woke up with a head full of melodies.
We stayed through the weekend so we could do a bit of proper sightseeing, and took the Glacier Discovery Train to Whittier where we got on a boat to look at tidewater glaciers in Prince William Sound. I loved the train ride as much as the boat, especially the view of Beluga Whales in Turnagain Arm! We also saw Dall Sheep, Trumpeter Swan and more Sandhill Crane from the train window. I felt instantly like I was in a different country, which Alaska, really, kind of is.
The boat ride, with its views of blue ice, deep turquoise glacier-fed waters, floating sea otters, Kittiwake colonies and waterfalls, was stunning. As we sat on the side of the boat staring at it all, one of the glaciers calved a chunk of ice the size of a five-story building sending a wake toward the boat. Large chunks of ice bobbed in the cold, clear water. Glacier calving is a ‘normal’ process, but I couldn’t help but think of larger glaciers disintegrating elsewhere ….
It was hard to imagine, and very sobering, to realize, the devastation the Exxon-Valdez Spill wreaked throughout the region 34 years ago. From the outside, the area looks recovered, but the jury will likely always be out as to whether something can truly recover from such a thing. That said, nature had clearly moved on in the ways it could. I was happy and fortunate to see it.