The day started off as overcast as every other day so far:
low clouds and light drizzle.
Before we could get off at the square, we had to stop at the
main lodge lobby. However, because of
the size of the bus, it can’t make the sharp turn into the parking lot of the
lobby. Instead, it has to exit the lot
and then reenter further down, where it can simply make a left to the front of
the lobby. The bus was about a third
full when we were picked up and there some women, probably mid-60s, sitting
behind me, and one was talking about how her children keep calling her. As we came up to the main lobby, the bus
stayed to the right to make its exit and re-entrance. Suddenly, the women behind
me were screaming “let us off! Can’t you
let us off here! We want to get off!”
The bus driver yelled back that she needed to exit to make
the turn and I think I yelled back the same.
The women were furious, sure that the bus driver was talking smack about
them, and later I realized that they thought I had yelled at them. I could here one say, “I’m going to get her
name and report her,” followed by, “is she talking to us?” The driver was carrying on a conversation
with the people in the front so I said that’s what she was doing.
As they got off the bus, they asked the driver her name. I really didn’t pay any attention to them,
and the bus headed down to the square where dad and I got off and had a so-so
breakfast at the buffet. We needed to be
next door at 8:30 to get on the bus to the train station, so this was a lot
more convenient than going back to the restaurant in the main lobby where we
had eaten the last few days.
Eventually they announced we could board the buses, so dad
and I got in line, but that bus filled up, so we moved to the overflow
bus. I think dad was still hurting
because he asked if they would bring the bus to us, rather than walk across the
street. Nonetheless, we walked and got
on. At the train station, we ran into
our old friends Sam and Mary (from Wisconsin), who had seats on the train just
behind us and across the aisle. I asked
dad if he “had seen the farbissiner
women who had complained on the shuttle bus, and I was shocked to hear “we’re
over here!” They were 6 or 7 people
behind us in line to board our train wagon.
She accused me of yelling at her on the bus, and I said that “I just
don’t have an indoor voice.” Dad then
said to me, “when you’re in a hole, stop digging.”
I was more than a little surprised since I hadn’t seen them
on any of our other excursions or on the bus from Fairbanks. When we reached Anchorage, they were part of
the first rows of the train who were directed to a different transfer bus than
ours. I’m not sure if they will be on
our ship or not. I guess we’ll find out
tomorrow if they’re on the boat train to Seward. If they’re seated at our table, it will be
more than a little awkward.
Our seats on the train to Anchorage
The train journey to Anchorage was absolutely stunning. I would rank it as one of the most
spectacular train journeys I’ve ever taken.
Even better, as the day progressed, the clouds began to lighten, and
suddenly this strange hot burning ball of fire in the sky became visible.
The early part of the route went along side the Nenana
River, with gorgeous views of dark green forests, occasionally broken up by a
churning river or small green meadows with black ponds.
Then as the sun came out, we
could see hills covered by light green tundra, with almost no trees at all
(which can’t grow in heavy permafrost.
Trees on one side, tundra on the other
We even got a glimpse of a tiny part of Mt. Denali. On average, only 30% of the people who visit
the park see even a part of the mountain.
Only 5% see the entire mountain. Dad pointed out, repeatedly, that he
had already seen the entire mountain on a business trip to Prudhoe Bay. It was an amazingly warm, clear October day,
and on the flight back, they passed Denali.
We actually had three separate glimpses of the mountain from the train,
but each time, we only saw the very base of the mountain. The top was wrapped in clouds.
The trip was enjoyable for the company. We went to the dining car at lunch and shared
a table with the couple in front of us, a semi-retired store owner from
Missouri and his wife. He had never left
the United States before, but his wife, daughter, and mother-in-law had
recently done a Mediterranean cruise, which began in Istanbul, ended in Rome,
with stops in Ephesus, Israel, and Malta.
Eventually we reached Wasilla where, we learned from our
guide, Governor Palin never said she could see Russia from her porch, but
rather that “We (in Alaska) can see Russia.”
Earlier, I heard her chatting with someone behind me about how her
daughter and Palin’s daughter are friends (they live near by), but that many
people in Alaska were upset that she had broken her promises and quit her job,
rather than fight the oil companies.
South of Wasilla, we approached the Chugach Mountains, which
were quite dramatic. Someone joked we
should tell people that this was Mt. Denali.
Eventually, after eight hours, we came around the bend and were in
downtown Anchorage.
Our hotel, the Westmark, seemed drab and dingy on
arrival. Dad was surprised at the
niceness of the room given how shabby the reception is. Dad wanted salmon for dinner, so I browsed
Yelp and we ended up going to Orso, across the street. Dad had the sockeye salmon on red quinoa, I
had the king salmon with grilled veggies.
Dad was very happy with his and I liked mine too, but after tasting his
sockeye, I think I prefer that to king salmon.
Dad wanted ice cream for dessert, so I found a parlor four
blocks away. From there we took a short
detour on the way back to the hotel so I could see if the Starbucks sold
newspapers (unfortunately they didn’t).
On the way back to the hotel, I could see dad was limping a little and
after I asked, he said his hip was hurting him.
Luckily, we were only a block and a half from the hotel.
After finding out logistics for our transfer tomorrow, I
sent him to the room while I took a stroll down to the harbor. Dad was a little concerned for my safety, but
I told him I would be back well before sunset (which isn’t until 10:59 pm
here). The Cook Inlet is only four
blocks away, so I walked down there. It
was the first time since I arrived in Canada that 1) I needed sunglasses; and
2) I wished I had not taken my jacket with me.
It was strange because the view of the mountains lining the
Cook Inlet remind me a lot of the scenery I saw in Ushuia on the south shore of
Tierra del Fuego, but despite the coldness of the view, everyone was out in
t-shirts and shorts. The walk turned out
to be quite short, just a half an hour, and then it was back to the room.
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