Alaskan Pilgrimage: Back Where I Started (Days 20-22)

The next day I rode a bike several miles South looking for an Orthodox church, to no avail. I ended up at a church called Chapel by the Sea. It was pretty good, a missionary from Tibet spoke about the Christian coffee shops he and his wife are opening there and then a speaker talked about Scientology. I met a guy there from Oregon and he told me that when I went I need to go to Hillsboro, Stumptown Coffee, and Voodoo donuts. Another guy I met from Kodiak took me to the library afterwards.

My goal at the library was to print up some designs for a tattoo I had in mind and find a tattoo shop nearby. I had the idea of getting a bear paw tattoo for a while, but I wanted it to have a unique flair to it because it is sort of a generic tattoo. I found the flair I wanted from a hat Jake (the guy I camped with at Big Lake) was wearing. He had a hat with a wolf paw on it with an Alaska Native flair. So I printed up that design and a generic bear paw design and took them to Primal Instincts Tattoo parlor. While I waited for my appointment, I bought a homeless Inuit man some food and talked with him. He told me that his father had killed his mother while he was a child, that he was also a former Hell’s Angel member, and had only a few more months to live due to a chronic heart issue. I don’t think these were just ramblings of a crazy hobo because he got pretty emotional. He was also a Christian and so I tried to encourage him and comfort him. After my meal, I went back to Primal Instincts and my artist, Wild Will, drew up a design for me. I really liked it so I sat down with the apprehension of making a fairly permanent decision. Will was a cool guy from Norcal and we talked quite a bit about philosophy, spirituality, and other interesting topics — thankfully it wasn’t the usual tiresome small talk that happens at barber shops and such.

 

Now, a quick word about the tattoo. To me, this symbolizes 1) wildness/adventure 2) courage/warrior spirit. I didn’t get this because I think I’m a bad ass that embodies these qualities perfectly, as much as I am someone who wants to a life with these qualities, and this is a reminder — it’s also a reminder of my Alaskan adventure and I think it’s cool that I got it at a place called Primal Instincts by a guy named Wild Will. Bears are wild and strong, and I have similar feelings about bears and adventures. I want to see them, but I don’t. I like them, but they scare me.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. The day after I wanted to go to the Alaska Native Heritage Center, but couldn’t find it. So I wandered around the city buying books and talking to homeless people and other strangers instead. I gave this one guy a few bucks outside of a gas station and started talking with him. He was a fairly educated guy who also used to be a contractor, but is an alcoholic living on the streets with his wife, who is an Alaska Native. He told me that his wife, who was on crack 20+ years was now clean and that they had mostly kicked hard liquor, but they were still maintenance drinkers on beer. He took me over to meet his wife and she was the prettiest homeless lady I’ve ever met– she was very nice too.  She kept asking me if I was on Valium or something, “why are you so peaceful?” I told her about Jesus as my spiritual high and medicine, and we did get to talk about God a bit. She kept coming back to thinking I was on Valium though. When I had talked about my past use of ecstasy she said, “Oh that’s what wrong with you.” I had to laugh at the irony of a woman who had been on crack for 20+ years saying that I had permafried my brain by using ecstasy once– it didn’t offend me or anything though. The guy went and puked because he said that he got sick when he didn’t drink –substances create a substance dependent homeostasis. They kept apologizing and I said, ” Don’t worry about me, I’m worried about you.” He cracked a Steel Reserve to settle his stomach. They told me of the hardships of homeless life — no place to stay, the cold, babysitting more dysfunctional drunks, relapsing due to being enmeshed in a homeless culture that has lots of alcohol in it. The woman almost cried as she spoke of how she was afraid of the coming winter. I really fell in love with these beautiful, jacked up people so I went back to my hostel, loaded up my pack with rain gear, sleeping bag, and some other miscellaneous stuff and gave it to them — I have both patted myself on the back and kicked myself in the butt for this.

I went back to the hostel and packed my  few remaining items into my 20L dry bag to prepare for my flight to Portland in the morning. These were my last moments in Alaska — back where I started at Spenard Hostel in Anchorage. I was ready to leave though, as much as I enjoyed it.

Alaskan Pilgrimage: Anchorage and Bust (Days 18-19)

The next day I decided I wanted to camp by the river after all, so I broke, packed, unpacked, and set up near Caribou Creek. I ate some oatmeal and sulked a bit because it was rainy. Near my camp, I noticed some mushrooms growing out of moose poop. I know that there are mushrooms that grow out of poop that are hallucinogenic. If you’ve been following me for a while now, you will note that I had a stage in which I was very drawn by drugs (which I may write about later to give my stories more context). Now, I haven’t done any for a number of years, but they still tempt me every once in a while. I thought to myself, “what a lousy day, it would be much easier to trip balls on some shrooms and chill in my tent then try to make something of this day.” Drugs are a very passive way to deal with issues/have fun. I didn’t do those shrooms, and I probably wouldn’t have anyway because I wasn’t 100% sure what they were.

I made myself go pan for gold. Mucky work it is, leaning in a numbing stream, scooping up muck, and pawing through that muck looking for the tiniest specks. I kept at it for a couple of hours. I did find some shiny speck, though some seemed silvery. When I went back to my camp to put those specks in a jar, I was frustrated to note that some had white and blue backs to them, as if they were candy wrapper chunks. I do think I found a couple of legit flecks, even though I ended up losing them. I got burned out on that and reverted to a crappy mood again. I walked and prayed it out though. I soon realized that my whole gold quest was stupid. Here I was in the midst of beauty complaining. I also realized that I was ignoring all the spiritual blessings that I should be happy about. I remembered a quote by Brother Lawrence that goes something like “we don’t need to run around looking for treasures when we have the Ultimate Treasure inside ourselves”. I decided then that I would go in my tent and trip out, but on the Spirit not on mushrooms. I would go look for treasure, but in the Spirit not in the stream. What a metaphor for the many ways people seek out happiness, but fail to look in the right place (I already knew this at the time, but in my imperfection revert to unspiritual frames of mind) Panning for gold is sort of like contemplation in that during the practice I felt like my consciousness was a cold, numb stream that was uninterested in spiritual things at the moment. The gold of the knowledge and the presence of God also seeming like a flake in the muck of my thoughts that must be found with great diligence.

Caribou Creek

Caribou Creek

After some time of reading, prayer, and contemplation I did become more spiritually oriented — the cold stream of consciousness became warm and intoxicating and the the knowledge and presence of God far outshone the muck in my mind. I stayed in my tent for some hours, just gazing at God. I began to enjoy my surroundings more too, which shouldn’t have been difficult. Caribou Creek is a chocolate colored river surrounded by high rock walls and a forest (which was in its fall colors) I even considered staying another full day with no other purpose than being with God, but eventually decided against that. I packed up camp and started down the road. I walked for some miles and eventually came to Long Rifle Lodge — a restaurant overlooking Matanuska glacier. I got a fat burrito, a cinnamon roll, and some coffee.

Matanuska Glacier

I walked some more before getting picked up by a pink dump truck. This was the first time I had gotten picked up by an industrial vehicle (he later told me he wasn’t supposed to pick up hitchhikers, but his boss wouldn’t know). The driver was a friendly guy from Phoenix, in his 40s or so. He seemed to be quite the outdoorsman, which gave us something to talk about. We also chatted a bit about God, he too was a believer. He took me all the way to Palmer (40-60 miles). I walked through Palmer, hitching all the way, and on the Western edge of town a young guy named John picked me up and took me 20 miles or so down the road to Eagle River. He was 21 and already partner in his father’s construction business. It seems he has a bright future. From Eagle River, I followed a walking path into Anchorage for about 10 miles. The walk went by fast though because I felt like I was in a perpetual state of revelation, like I could see the meaning of the Gospel more clearly than usual. The theme of my meditation was the Kaleidoscopic view of the Gospel, which I may write about later, as I don’t have space in this article.

I stopped on the outskirts of Anchorage, unwilling to walk the remaining 5-8 miles to the hostel. I splurged and got a cab. The driver was a Nigerian fellow and a very nice guy. We talked about God briefly during our brief ride and he dropped me off at Spenard Hostel, where it all began. I spent the remainder of that night cooking, eating, and writing.

 

Alaskan Pilgrimage: Stranded, Stressed, and Splitting Ways (Days 14-17)

Day 14 was our worst day hitchhiking. We had planned to go further South on the Richardson and split ways at Paxson. I was planning on heading back to Anchorage, while Austin needed to go back to Talkeetna. It wasn’t so simple though. I knew that the Richardson-Glenn Allen route was less populous than the Parks Highway, but that wasn’t even our problem. There were a fair amount of people driving by, given that it was the tail end of tourist season and the start of moose hunting season, but no one would pick us up. We waited about 2 -3 hours near our first campsite and couldn’t get a thing. I decided I was going to walk and Austin hesitantly joined me ( I get antsy sitting still). So we walked a few miles down the road to a pull out where people can view the Alyeska oil pipeline. A number of people stopped to view it, but didn’t give us a ride.

Some mountains around Delta Junction

The Alyeska Pipeline

After another couple of hours, we walked again. I was definitely discouraged at this point, but Austin was especially  fuming. His bad state of mind was threatening to rain on my parade. While I love him and enjoyed traveling with him, I was ready to part ways. I wanted to slap him in that moment. Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy and I enjoyed traveling with him, but I was ready to part ways at this point. I considered if I could walk to Glenallen — I figured I could make it to Paxson in 2-3 days (40 miles) and then I could make it the rest of the way to Glenallen (100 or so from Paxson) IF I could resupply in Paxson (I couldn’t have). FINALLY someone stopped. I have never gone a whole day without getting a ride before this. He told us that he was heading South to Valdez the next day and he would pick us up if we were still there. So now we had some hope. We camped down by the road and got up early the next morning to make sure we didn’t miss our ride.

After several hours of waiting that cold, rainy morning, we both were still demoralized. A guy going North stopped by and told us that he would be heading South to Valdez in 3 days and then offered to take us back to Delta and/or Fairbanks. I was tempted to go to Fairbanks and take the train to Anchorage, but I still had time before my flight left. We both agreed, however, that it was bettered to be stranded near a grocery store than in the middle of nowhere, so we went back to Delta Junction. After getting some food, we went to the library to look into jobs. I couldn’t find the Boeing job that paid 44k/year– I found several of the same job title with other companies that paid well, but not THAT well. Austin was looking into a construction job while I was doing that. I decided to try my hand at hitching again, but Austin wasn’t ready to leave the library, so we parted ways.

I had good luck hitchhiking right out of Delta; within a half-hour I had a ride all the way to Glenallen (180 miles or so). A commercial fisherman/contractor picked me up; he was also headed to Valdez. He was a really cool guy and I enjoyed his company. In Glenallen, I got a fat brownie at the gas station because I tend to be a junk food junkie while I’m on the road. I also went to a Thai Food truck and got some curry that was delicious and free. Free because after making it she realized I wanted to pay in debit and none of the nearby ATMs were working (it’s a miracle!). I actually felt kind of bad, but free curry is delicious nonetheless. I walked through the small town of Glenallen and then down the road before I could find a decent place to camp. I was relieved to get off my feet and out of the rain. I was also relieved that the weather down there was markedly warmer than the weather around Fairbanks and Denali.

The next day I got up and began walking. I stopped at a liquor store to get some Snicker’s bars for breakfast and offer the old cashier prayer. I hit the road and walked a few more miles but got picked up by a middle aged Athabascan couple. They were nice people and I also learned that they were believers, so it was nice to worship with them. They were heading all the way to Anchorage, so I contemplated whether or not I should go there, or stick around the Glenn Highway to explore. I decided on the latter when I had them drop me off near King Mountain recreation are by Chickaloon. This was deceptive, however, because King Mountain was on the other side of the Matanuska river with no bridges to it. I talked to the locals and everyone said it was uncrossable.

King Mountain

So here I am in Chickaloon, AK (podunk town with nothing but a combo post office/general) store. At the store I met a cyclist from France who had been biking around Canada and Alaska for a few months. We spoke of our travels and briefly on spirituality. He told me that he stayed on Mt. Eureka. Now, I had considered stopping at Eureka, but passed it up when I realized it was just a roadhouse. However, if you’ve read a couple of my older posts, you know that Eureka is something that God has spoken to me with, so I considered following it again. I ate some food, offered some people prayer and began hitching again. I was torn however, whether to go to Anchorage or Eureka– so I went to a spot where I could hitch either direction. The first car that picked me up was headed to Eureka, so I decided on that.

The old dude driving the old jeep was smoke a joint and offered me some, but I passed. He then offered me a cold beer, which was delicious on that hot day. He lived down towards Valdez and was coming back from the doctor in Anchorage. He and his wife typically winter in Hawaii (which many Alaskans do). When we parted ways I prayed for his health ailments. I went inside the lodge at Eureka and started asking about the mountain. The waitress was reluctant to help me, but a couple other locals talked to me. No one had heard of it, but the cyclist told me of it and I had seen it on a map previously (but I couldn’t remember where). I left the lodge and just started walking down the highway towards Anchorage, stopping to pick up a hub cap that would work as a makeshift gold pan. I think I had some delusions of striking it rich, perhaps because of the connotations of the word Eureka. Eureka, formerly was where I discovered something gold, and it was a greater revelation of the character of God. I wasn’t thinking so spiritually at the time though; I was getting my first taste of gold fever.

As I walked down the road I noticed some mountains behind some hills to the North. I decided I would make for them, even though it was starting to get late. There was no trail, but I just walked. I feared that it might be private land, but there were no signs. The walking was a bit mucky, but not as bad as Stampede trail or anything. It was also super brushy; I had to swim through all kinds of bushes. Fortunately, a lot of those bushes were blueberry bushes, so I ate a billion of those. The bushes were killing me though, I was getting increasingly frustrated. I also saw a small house in the distance so I concluded that I was on private land, which lead to more frustration. It was too late to turn back, so I would just camp there that night. I made it as far as I could go, almost to the hill top, and set up camp. I ate a lot of food then went to bag.

Late season blueberries (not nearly as good as huckleberries in MT but still tasty)

I considered pushing onward towards the mountains the next day, but I figured if there was a brush field over that hilltop all the way to the mountains, it wouldn’t be worth it, so I headed back towards the highway. It was a very foggy morning, so I couldn’t see the way back very well. I knew if I headed due South I would hit the highway though. I took out my compass and headed South. I was struggling to stay positive and cheerful through the muck and brush, but I was really over this hike.  Once I got into the thick of the trees, brush, fog, and swampy stuff, I got a bit distressed. Yes, my compass still read South and I knew I wouldn’t take the exact route back, but it seemed more unfamiliar than it should and I felt lost. I held onto that compass reading though and pressed on, eventually running into the road. It reminds me of holding onto the map of the Bible and the  compass of the Holy Spirit when life doesn’t seem to go the way you expect it to. Perception is short sighted though when you’re in the midst of a fog and life can be foggy, which is why we need a reference point beyond ourselves. That’s why it’s important to have faith rather than look to immediate circumstances.

Anyways, I went back to the roadhouse and ate a massive cinnamon roll and drank some coffee. I hitched there a bit with no luck, so I continued walking down the highway. I came to a sign near where I had hiked that said “Mt Eureka” but it looked like it had been hit by a truck and it was pointing nowhere of significance. I found the “house” I had seen the other day; it turns out that it was a hunting camp. I asked him about the mountain and he knew nothing of it. He did tell me of some trails that led to old mines and such. I planned on going to one of those, but I didn’t have enough food to make an extended hike and there were no stores around. I thought of bartering with people for food, but there weren’t many people around either. Feeling disgusted with my lame misadventure and the lack of rides, I trudged towards Anchorage. I finally got picked up a few miles down the road by a woman named Nine. She took me 25 or so miles down the road to Caribou Creek, a recreation area that is public access for gold panning. She even left me a box of ginger snaps which I promptly devoured.

I did a bit of panning that first night and then got camp set up and a fire going. I was feeling better about being out of Eureka and being in a beautiful place. The creek, which was more of a river, was 15 minutes down a hillside trail. I camped up top because I’ve heard bears like to hang out by rivers. Ironically, I camped by a berry patch. I will describe more about gold panning and the area in the next chapter because I’m starting to run long, so stay tuned!

Alaskan Pilgrimage: Seward to Palmer (day one)

As my season with Kenai Fjords Tours drew to a close, I started to plan for my time trekking through Alaska. I had already bought a ticket from Anchorage to Portland for the 16th of September and my last day working was August 23rd. So that gave me about three weeks to travel Alaska. My original itinerary was very ambitious (and not really realistic). It consisted of hiking the Resurrection Pass trail from Sterling Highway to Hope (about 40 miles — I thought I could make some cool spiritual metaphor with the name, especially if I hiked it in three days and on the third day reached Hope), go from Hope to Anchorage, Anchorage to Palmer, Palmer to Glenallen, Glenallen to Fairbanks, Fairbanks to Deadhorse, back to Fairbanks, down the Parks highway to Denali, and finally end up in Anchorage.

My itinerary first changed when I decided to not hike Resurrection Pass, because it was pretty far for a solo hike. The day after I finished work I also felt like God wanted me to hang around Seward for a of couple days, which I didn’t really want to do, but I did. My pastor hooked me up with a ride to Anchorage with one of his coworkers on the 26th of August. So I got a free ride up there in a box truck and also stopped at Whittier on the way. I enjoyed hanging out with the guy who gave me a ride too. When I got to Anchorage I stopped into to Walmart to get some film, feeling quite absurd walking around with my big pack and walking stick. After Walmart I planned to go to Barnes and Nobles to get a book for the road, but couldn’t find the store. On the way I got to pray for a guy in a wheelchair who got in a car accident nothing– miraculous happened in that moment. This was also when I really noticed the neediness of Anchorage — countless homeless people and liquor stores. As I was walking around Anchorage, I saw a building that said something about the North Slope, the Arctic Borough where Deadhorse is located. Now, I felt that I might end up working at Deadhorse through the winter, I was drawn to it anyway, so I stopped in. Instead of getting a job at Deadhorse, I got a dead end. So I pressed on, heading towards Northeast Anchorage and the Glenn Highway.

Between the heat, my overloaded pack, and my out of shape body the walk through town was pretty brutal. I stopped at a gas station and put together one of my new delicacies — a peanut butter and brownie taco. My boss gave me a box of brownies for the road before I left. After my meal, I tried to talk to a guy about Jesus and then admired some Amanita Muscarias (which are ubiquitous in Anchorage) before getting back to my trek. A couple more miles and I ran into a guy on crutches who said he dropped sheet rock on his ankle. I prayed for him and asked him how he felt, and he said, “wow, better actually, how does that shit work?” I told him that Jesus died to heal our bodies and our souls and he left sort of abruptly. I don’t know if he was opposed to Jesus or just sort of freaked out by the whole thing. Later down the road I met an older  guy in a wheelchair panhandling. He was a Vietnam vet and kept saying “I made it home, but not all of them made it home” in a garbled, distressed voice. I gave him some brownies and told him I was sorry he had to go through that. Not that it helped much, but I really was sorry. That guy probably went into Vietnam when he was my age or younger and has been screwed up ever since over some stupid war, but that’s a whole other topic.

I walked another mile or so and stopped to rest in front of a gas station. There were a few homeless people hanging out there. A loud mouthed, confusing woman who perpetually interrupted people named Henrietta; and her best friend who was ex-military and ex-commercial fisherman, Ken. They gave me a donut, which was cool, considering that they probably didn’t have too much to give. Ken then told me that a catering company out of Deadhorse was conducting job interviews on September 3rd in Anchorage. What are the chances? Here I am thinking about working in Deadhorse, I leave Seward a specific time, and then on this day run into a guy talking about work in Deadhorse on the street. At this point I considered hanging around Anchorage until the interviews. I decided instead, however, to alter my itinerary and head up Parks highway first, go to Denali, then turn around and come back to Anchorage in time for the interviews. Well that’s what I planned anyway; this alteration of my itinerary changed many other things too, which will be discussed in the upcoming chapters.

After hanging out with the homeless people, I trekked on towards Glenn Highway, now Denali Bound (after Palmer anyway). When I got to the highway I had no success hitchhiking though. I hitched for a couple hours probably and could not get a ride. A bit discouraged, I headed back into the outskirts of Anchorage. I went to a park and sat down with some other homeless people who were sitting at a table drinking a 40. There was a guy with a dog, a middle aged white woman, a middle aged Native woman, and a middle aged guy with a wolf  T-shirt on. I sat there and kept to myself, wondering how I could engage these obviously troubled people. In the midst of my thoughts a Native kid of about twelve came up crying, saying how some guy hurt him. The guy with the wolf shirt went to go confront the other guy, who was a bald, aggressive looking man. The bald guy was trying to get to the kid, but the wolf man and others were preventing him and chewing him out. I sat there wondering if I would have to get involved. Apparently the bald guy was pissed because the kid ratted on him for stealing something from the 711, but he eventually got on his bike and took off. Shortly after the cops came and questioned the homeless people, threatened a 300 dollar fine for drinking in the park, and made wolf man throw out his 40. Wolf man sat there complaining about the kid, repeating phrases like “little snitch bitch” even though he had defended the kid — obviously a fairly conflicted guy. This event was just another to remind me of the problems of Anchorage.

I decided that I had better go set up camp in the backwoods of that park, so I set out looking for a suitable spot. There was plenty of room, but there were also other tents. I was hesitant to set up in this sketchy area, fearing that I might get shanked and robbed. Off the trail I met Joey, an older hippie guy with long hair and large rimmed glasses smoking weed and walking his dog. When he learned I was headed to Palmer he offered me a ride. I can’t get a ride on the main road, but here I get one in some random park! Anyways, we waited around a bit and then left. Once we got on the road, he decided that the traffic for Alaska State Fair (in Palmer) was still too bad, so we pulled off for a while to go to McDonald’s and walk his dog some more. As we walked he told me his plan to go to the lower 48 for a month and find himself a “chickie-gal” to bring back up to Alaska — a fairly ambitious plan, but I hope it works out for him. We got back on the road to Palmer after about an hour. We talked about weed a bit, he said it mellows him out and gives him the munchies, which is good for him because medical issues have affected his appetite. I offered him prayer for his medical issues which led him to talk about spirituality a bit. He said that he doesn’t kneel to pray, but rather talks to God on the trail. I told him that I am the same way, one does not have to engage in certain rituals  to connect with God; there is only one God, but He is a personal God that speaks and connects with His people in unique was.. We made one more stop on our way to Palmer, a park called hay flats. It was a small man-made lake with a trail around it –pretty nice, it reminds me of a city park in my hometown of Helena.

Once we got to the fairgrounds, we cruised around looking for a suitable camping spot and he gave me some advice on camping. Before parting ways, I prayed for his physical problems. He then wandered into the fair and I angled into the backwoods of the fairgrounds, trying to look casual with my large pack. Fortunately no one stopped me. I got back in the woods and found a place to set up my tent in waste high, wet grass — not ideal but it worked. I actually didn’t sleep too bad.