My last day at Lake Clark I spent dreaming about going to Twin Lakes to see Dick Proenneke’s cabin. Richard Proenneke was an interesting character who ran away to Twin Lakes in 1968 when he was 51 and built himself a cabin on the shore of the upper lake. His friend Babe Alsworth from Lake Clark used a float plane to transport him in and out and deliver supplies from time to time. His claim to fame, other than being a masterful carpenter and a hermit was that he filmed himself building the cabin and while hunting and trekking through the area, and he kept a daily journal.
He planned to make the film of his adventures and take it on a travelling road show to make money out of it, but the area got into his blood and he did not leave the solitude for nearly 30 years. Instead a friend of his, Sam Keith published a paraphrased version of his journals (that Dick was never totally satisfied with) and he became famous before it was fashionable to have 15 minutes of fame in this country. Keith paraphrasing Proenneke…
What was I capable of that I didn't know yet?
Could I truly enjoy my own company for an entire year?
and was I equal to everything this wild land could throw at me?
His cabin stands as something of a museum in the park, where you can visit (if you can get there) with all his personal effects still in place, as it was the day he left and moved to the lower 48 to finish up his days.
Apparently Dick Proenneke’s story is not unique in itself, just that it was so well documented he became the pin up boy for people escaping city life and living on their wits in this wilderness.
Back at Lake Clark NP the head of the National Parks Service, John Jarvis, was scheduled to visit the park at the end of the week and much industry was devoted to making the place ready for him to inspect. The weather was not in favour of me getting to Proenneke’s cabin so I returned to Anchorage on a milk run flight that took me sightseeing south from Port Alsworth via Lake Iliamna on the northern end of the Alaska Peninsula, right above the Aleutian Chain. At 124 km long, Iliamna is Alaska’s largest lake and is as impressive as it is beautiful. The flight north to Anchorage was terrifying for me as we dodged thunderclouds all the way home with absolutely no visibility until we arrived in the city. I sat white knuckled for the whole journey praying I wouldn’t become a statistic.
Back in Anchorage I continued my volunteer work at the NPS. On the weekend I headed out to the Chugach State Park with Doug and Jan, my friends from the Fish and Wildlife Service to go for a hike up to Rabbit Lake, just behind Anchorage. It was steady climb up above the clouds and we searched in vain for blueberries along the way and found only sour crowberries as we laughed and chatted along the track. The panoramic view to the west across Turnagain Arm and to the north of Anchorage gave a great perspective on the height of the mountains behind the Cook Inlet, and on the position of the city.
The hike was challenging and rewarded us with a view of the pretty and tiny Rabbit Lake, with the Suicide Peaks towering above. I discovered ‘Lara bars’ that Doug shared as a snack near the lake – yummy health food bars of dark sticky munched fruit and nuts. The cherry ones are the best! On the way back down we met heaps of people hiking up, many with dogs in tow (some with cute panniers) and the weather deteriorating to a steady drizzle. At one point we could hear bear bells approaching from up the side slope at an alarming rate. We all looked at each other with wide eyes, expecting to see whoever or whatever was wearing the bear bells to have a bear in hot pursuit. We three were relieved it was just a dog enjoying the freedom of a run on a Sunday afternoon. Some people say the bear bells are really dinner bells as they alert the bears to where to get an easy feed! A pizza at the Moose’s Tooth – easily Anchorage’s best and most popular pizza restaurant - rounded out a satisfying and enjoyable day. We all resolved to hike again while the summer still lingered.
 |
The next week arrangements were made for me to visit to Denali National Park. As the train pulled slowly out of the depot (not the station?) and passed through Elmendorf Air Force Base on the outskirts of Anchorage, the conductor advised everyone that we would be traversing the site of a cargo plane (C17) crash from only a week before where 4 servicemen were killed while practicing for an air-show. Ploughed earth, trees snapped like matchsticks and wreckage was strewn either side of the train tracks for a couple of hundred metres and was in the process of being collected and boxed up in containers by the military for the air crash investigation. The awful carnage prompted me to consider the fragility of life, and the necessity of being present and aware, especially on this amazing adventure.
There have been numerous air crashes in Alaska while I have been here over the summer, which is not surprising given the number of aircraft and the number of pilots in this state. Pilots per capita are the most numerous here of any state in the US with 1.3 per 100 people compared with .03 per 100 in most other areas. To date I think 21 people have lost their lives since I arrived – including the Ted Stevens who was a very well known ex-senator of Alaska. Most recently a contract float plane disappeared with 3 national parks employees aboard in poor weather in Katmai National Park and hasn’t been found yet. Very sad.
No comments:
Post a Comment