These
are the Chronicles of Famous Surf Writer Ben Marcus and his trip
into the Wilds of the Alaskan Frontier.
Latest Update: September 30, 2000
(Tidal
Bore Photos Click Here)
12:28
AM ROOM 117, MARINA MOTEL, SEWARD ALASKA
Wow,
another Alaska day, from Valdez to Anchorage to Seward. Lost my
ATM card but saw a tidal bore, x-ing off another Natural Phenomenon
from the list of must-sees.
In
between those extremes, I saw some surreal, glacial landscape, then
plunged from that into the lush Matanuska valley. In Anchorage I
found the Reeve Aleutian Airlines desk at the airport, but arrived
too late to see our plane take off. I did buy a Reeve Aleutian Airlines
lapel pin though, so it wasn't a total loss. But the tidal bore
was the highlight. It was sheer luck, and I felt lucky. Now I'm
in Seward, in a room with phones that don't work properly, but I
feel good.
But
let's roll back to last night. After successfully walking out of
the Pipeline Club with my laptop without getting rousted, I looked
up and saw some eerie, ethereal lights shining up from behind the
mountains, like a scene from Close Encounters of the Third Kind.
They were throwing a weird glow directly over the Big Dipper. Being
the international traveler that I am, I knew what was up. My friend,
the Aurora Borealis.
There
was too much light in Valdez, so I drove to the other side of the
bay to get a clearer view. Turns out I had my directions all wrong,
but when I figured out what north really was, I got a pretty decent
Northern Lights show. Not nearly as intense as what we saw in Norway,
but still pretty good. The Northern Lights are great. If ever there
was a natural phenomenon to make you think the Gods were active,
that's the one. How else to explain it?
Chasing
the Northern Lights also gave me an excuse to drive around with
the heat on, before sacking out in the van. I slept okay that night
in the RV park, although I couldn't get the cable to work. It wasn't
overly cold in the morning. But Valdez probably stayed in the 40s
all night. Like I said, it's tropical here by the sea.
First
thing I did when I woke up was go to an ATM at Alaska Bank. I got
$100, but left my ATM card there, I think. Shit. It might be in
the van, but I think it's in an ATM in Valdez.
Drove
out of Valdez without further ado, and retraced my steps over the
Thompson Pass, which was just as big and craggy and snowy and spectacular
in reverse.
After
a long road out through fall color, over many creeks and rivers
and past Mount Wrangell and Mount Sanford, I turned left at Glenallen,
which put me on the highway toward Anchorage. Mount Sanford stayed
in my rear-view mirror for a long, long time. Hours, it seemed like,
and the terrain to my left got surreal. There was a long, deep valley
with snow-covered mountains on the other side, with a glacier here
and there. It looked surreal, like a set for a Wagner opera, or
a Star Wars movie. It looked like a special effect.
I
stopped for lunch at a diner with a view up one of the glaciers,
the Tazlina Glacier, with Mount Valhalla and Mount Marcus Baker
looming over it all.
That
went on for many many miles, but eventually that valley sloped down
to Matanuska Glacier, which dribbled brown and yucky out of a long
valley. This was the start of the Matanuska Valley, an agriculture
area renowned for nuclear cabbages and carrots, and lethal marrywanna.
Once
again, Alaska went from arctic to lush in 100 miles. The fall color
came back, and it was actually hot outside.
This
place. Sheesh.
The
Matanuska Valley rolled into Palmer, and I started seeing fancy
cars like Jaguars and a convertible Volvo. Civilization was near.
Anchorage
kind of gave me the creeps at first: strip-malls, fast-food stands,
used-car lots. I was ready to be overwhelmed and revulsed by a big,
dopey American city, but it turned out to be not so bad.
I
drove around looking for the International Airport, hoping to take
a photo of that Reeve Aleutian flight to Petropavlovsk as it took
off.
I
found the small-plane airport first, which kind of reminded me of
San Jose. Then I saw some jets taking off farther along, so I drove
around through streets and neighborhoods and industrial areas that
reminded me of Anchorage and found the International Airport, which
also reminded me of San Jose. At some point I decided that Anchorage
reminded me of San Jose, or old San Jose, I should say. Same size,
same feel, similar kinds of houses, traffic, etc. And that's not
a bad thing. There are worse places in the world than San Jose,
believe it or not. Try Santa Ana.
I
found the International Airport and then walked into the terminal
under the Reeve Aleutian sign. The guy at the desk told me the Petropavlovsk
flight had taken off at 13:50, so I was a couple hours too late.
I bought a Reeve lapel pin for one dollar American, and vowed to
be back next year.
While
buying gas at a Chevron Station I realized my ATM card was missing,
and after tearing apart the van and swearing a little, I figured
I had left it back in Valdez. Crap. All I needed was another financial
hangup.
So
I had accomplished my goal of making it to Anchorage and finding
Reeve Aleutian Airlines.
Now
what? I had options: North to Denali Park or south to the Kenai
Peninsula.
I
decided to head south, for Seward or Kenai or Homer, whichever one
caught my fancy or presented itself first. I drove out of Anchorage
on the Old Seward Highway, wondering where the New Seward Highway
was.
In
the back of my head somewhere I had a memory pf an e-mail from Jaz
Kaner, about a tidal bore somewhere in the Anchorage area. Here
is the e-mail.
"OK,
(Are you reading MY stuff?) once again, It's actually in Anchorage,
like a 20
minute drive down along Turnagain Arm (Make it an hour and your
at the Portage
glacier -- overrated). Turnagain Arm runs directly along Anchorage,
narrowing
a good deal right near the whale watching area, forget the name
of the
point, there's a scenic pullover there. The last bore was the end
of August,
which leads me to believe it'd happen again in Sept same time? I
got some
info from the visitors bureau, but maybe a good marina, or boatyard..?
"It's
supposed to be the only other tidal bore in North America (Fundy
in NS is the
other)."
Jaz
Driving
along the Old Seward Highway, with the Alaska Railway on one side
and Turnagain Arm on the other, I stopped to read a tourist sign
with all the local history. Captain Cook had been through here on
one of his voyages, looking for the Northwest Passage. When you
think about it, Captain Cook and a lot of other guys must have done
and awful lot of poking around, looking for that thing. I mean,
Vancouver thought Deception Pass was the exit to the Northwest Passage,
and Cook thought it was up here. Neither of those guys were even
close, and there are thousands of coves and inlets between Deception
Pass and Anchorage, and another several thousand beyond here.
I
digress.
Cook
was way off, but during his exploration he sent out Lieutenant Bligh
in the longboat, but they got spooked by a weird tidal current running
through one of the sounds. Cook called it Turnagain Sound because
of the current that almost wrecked the longboat.
I
didn't really pay it any mind, until I realized I was at that place.
There was another sign which explained that Cook Inlet and Turnagain
Sound have the second highest tidal range in the United States,
second only to the Bay of Fundy. The tidal range is 35 feet, which
is pretty dang extreme. The tide range under the Golden Gate Bridge
is more than 11 feet, and I have seen some serious current come
running out of there.
Because
of the extreme tidal range and the narrow, shallow shape of the
inlets, the tide comes in as a bore.
I
thought, "Cool. That would be worth seeing." But I had no idea what
the tide was doing, or where the bore formed. I wanted to see one
and check it off my list of Natural Phenomena.
As
I drove along the Old Seward Highway, running along Turnagain Sound,
I saw that the tide was way, way out. I thought about hanging around
until the tide changed, but didn't know when that would be.
While
driving, I thought I saw the bore, although it could have been a
shadow or some other current. Something was moving, though, so I
jumped out and took a photo of what looked to be a six-inch wave
running along a sandbar. There was a lot of current running inland
just off the rocks, and it was spooky to think it was only tide.
I
got back in the car, drove a little ways along and what do you know,
there it was. This was a for-real tidal bore, a two-foot wave moving
eerily along, powered by the tides.
It
was creepy, to tell you the truth. Scary, even though it was only
a two-foot wave. I stopped the car, jumped out and took some photos
as the wave approached. It was only two feet, but it had the entire
Pacific Ocean behind it, and it would easily have been surfable.
I had my board and wetsuit, but even if I'd wanted to, I wouldn't
have been ready.
I
shot the wave as it approached and then bubbled up on the rocks
and broke, and then watched it passed with a couple of other gawkers.
The tidal bore broke up and disappeared just after it passed me,
and left a bunch of warbles and gurgles in its wake.
I
was jazzed. It was like stumbling across Sasquatch or something.
My timing was just perfect, and it's always nice when that happens,
like you've done something right for once.
I
was so jazzed I stopped at the next phone and called Steve Hawk.
I thought I had a scoop, but he topped it with the story of the
guy getting nailed by the shark at Mavericks.
Apparently
a photographer was paddling out for the first time on opening day,
and got nailed by a 12-foot teenager. It hit the board but not the
guy, who rode out the attack on the shark's snout. It ripped his
wetsuit, but no skin. There were other guys in the water who were
unaware of the attack until the Harbor Patrol came out and got them.
Now everyone is bumming, because that paddle out the back at Mavericks
just got a lot longer.
From
that phone call I drove on, around the back of Turnagain Sound at
a place called Portage. This is a place that had dropped nine feet
during the 8.5 Anchorage earthquake in 1963, and was inundated.
The town had to be relocated.
The
earthquake and the tidal wave got me thinking about the tidal wave
that hit Crescent City, inspired by that same earthquake.
Having
been through Crescent City several weeks ago, and then having driven
all the way up to Anchorage, it is mind-boggling that an earthquake
here could cause so much damage down there. Look on a map. Unbelievable.
So,
now I am in Seward, having driven here in a state of confusion,
pissed about the ATM card, but jazzed about the tidal bore. That's
Alaska for you, and that is traveling. Never a dull moment.
Now
I'm watching an Elvis movie in a $55 motel room. I checked in to
use their phones, but their phones don't work. Apparently Seward
has an antiquated phone system, and you have to go though operators
to get an outside line, even an 800 number.
Whatever.
My list of Internet cafes has one in Seward. I'll get a good night's
sleep, send this tomorrow then push on to Homer or Kenai tomorrow,
which ever strikes my fancy.
Stoked
about the tidal bore. If we try the Kamchatka trip next year, it
might be cool to have some guys try to surf the bore. I'd like to
see what Flea could do with it. Call the local news. Call CNN. Make
it an event. It'd be worth it. Get a swell.com banner, if indeed
swell.com exists next fall. Hope so.
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