I first met Dave and Marsha while a student at the
After weeks of discussion about our itinerary our adventure began, oddly enough, in
Of course, there aren’t any direct flights between
After a fairly uneventful flight, Damon met us at the airport and showed us around town. It’s a beautiful city. The Mormon Tabernacle was particularly nice, proving once again that cults often have better architecture than protestant Christianity. (Yes, I believe Mormonism is a cult.) Damon showed us a great view of the whole valley from one of the foothills above the capital building. I think he called them ‘the benches.’ Anyway, we went to dinner at a bar & grill named ‘Squatters’ and the bleu cheese burger was the best I’ve had since Opie’s in
We arrived in
Dave and Marsha live with their 19-month-old son, Keith David, in a gorgeous log home on a five acre plot surrounded by black spruce and diamond willow. Marsha is pregnant and due to deliver in September. Their home is cozy and warm, like something out of a Jim Kjelgaard novel or Jack London story; uniquely Alaskan.
After a short night’s sleep, we enjoyed a hot breakfast prepared by Marsha. Then we got serious about having some adventure. Dave had to work, so Marsha took us on a tour of 
It was wonderful. The boat itself (Discovery 3) was four stories tall and the captain gave us a running commentary of the entire voyage, explaining the local wildlife we were seeing and some history of the river. Along the way we stopped at a dog ranch for sled dogs, a float plane demonstration and a tour of an Athabascan village. The dog ranch was owned by Susan Butcher, 3-time Iditarod winner prior to her death, and her husband. They demonstrated for us how they train in the summer when there is no snow; they use modified four-wheelers. In order for them to work for the dogs, they remove the engines and reinforce the brakes.
The next day all we did was hang out. Both Dave and Marsha had to work, so Mandi and I took their Jeep and went shopping. We met Dave for lunch at a Thai restaurant and I have to admit that it was the best noodles that I’ve had since Snow Lion (also in
Day three began somewhat earlier as we headed to the airport to catch a float plane to Minto Flats, where we would fish for Northern Pike. I cannot begin to describe how awesome that was. Awesome because I was with Mandi and Dave, awesome because we were in remote
As we waited for our plane to arrive we met three young 
soldiers, one of whom, Doug, was limping badly from wounds received from a roadside bomb (IED) in
Why he did it, I can’t say, but for some reason Doug decided to help us out on our trip. He told us that he had, “doing this for 16 years,” and assured us that we would have a great time. Then he told us the location of his secret hole. At first we were skeptical, but since we’d be fishing near one another anyway, and have to face each other on the plane home, it didn’t make sense for him to lie, so we followed his instructions through the maze of channels in the marshy flats, and tried our luck. It was a good decision. On our way to the hole, we stopped and waded through the mud to pitch a few lures into some of the oxbows and ponds surrounding the main channel. Mandi slipped at one point and landed square on her backside, covering herself with mud and water. I didn’t laugh at the time, but it was funny. Doug had to wait for more friends to arrive, but caught up with us after a couple of hours and we fished the same water for the rest of the day.
In the end, we all caught fish. My biggest was 35 inches long, 16.5 inches in girth, and weighed at least 18-20 pounds. Mandi caught one 30 inches long and Dave also broke the 30-inch barrier. We caught 45 fish altogether, and, yes, I caught the biggest and the most (20).
Pike fishing is surreal. The fish strike with such violence that it defies description. We were fishing 6-inch jointed Rapalas with steel leader and on several occasions would pull in a fish with only the leader visible outside their toothy maw. We pulled in fish with the lure caught sideways, backwards, forward… any way you could think
of, in th
eir mouth. One time we saw a fish come completely out of the water, then slam down on top of the lure. Another time, Dave was sitting in the boat with his lure floating innocently on the water next to the boat as he watched a plane go by when a fish came out from under the boat and nearly took the pole out of his hand. When I caught my 35-incher, I saw a hump come out of the water like the Loch Ness monster just before the beast slammed my Rapala as if it had just insulted his mother. When I got it to the boat we found out that I hadn’t actually hooked the fish, but lassoed it. The steel leader was caught in his jagged teeth and the lure wrapped around his head and snagged the leader on the other side. It was amazing. Even on a casual strike, Pike create a swirl around your lure that is just special to see. You can almost see an evil gleam in their eye and watch them back up to get a running start after whatever unsuspecting prey they decide to devour. There’s nothing quite like it in North American fishing. Once we saw one come completely out of the water before it hit the lure. Another time we saw one take down a duck. I about fell out of the boat laughing when one hijacked Dave's floating lure as it rested next to the boat between casts while he was watching a float plane circle overhead. Only quick reflexes saved his pole from a watery grave. It was not unusual to pull one up to the boat and see no sign of our 6-inch Rapalas sticking out of their mouth, just the line coming out of their lips. Fortunately, they're so tough we managed to retrieve our equipment without causing permanent damage almost every time. After a couple hours sleep we headed back to Fairbanks.
Saturday was a rest day for us. We’d slept little and played hard on Friday, so Saturday we took it easy. After flying in to Fairbanks we headed back to Dave and Marsha’s, unpacked, and then went gold panning at the creek where Felix Pedro first discovered gold. It was an interesting experience, and since all we did was pan, it was backbreaking. About the only
redeeming quality of panning for gold was that we were using ore not scooped out of the well-worked creek, but taken from a vein running next to the Knox mine. (The Knox mine is the richest mine in North America.) It just so happens that Dave knows a guy… Anyway, the dirt we were panning was rich with color, and my back was still sore from squatting by the creek for an extended period of time. Mandi seemed to enjoy it more than I did, and Marsha was having a blast. Dave had a splitting migraine, so he opted for the nap at home, an option I’ll explore should anyone ask me to pan for gold again. Still, it just one of those things that every tourist must do in Fairbanks, and we were blessed to actually find good color in the process, which most people can’t say. It was a beautiful gesture on Dave’s part to procure such an opportunity for us.
Later that evening we went to a small group Bible study that met as part of Dave and Marsha’s church. Good people. I hope they prosper in their study of God’s word.
At some point in the week we feasted on King Crab legs. Not the wimpy stuff you find at Chinese Buffets, nor the mediocre offerings found in most grocery stores, but REAL King Crab legs. These things were the size of Mandi’s arm. They were HUGE. And they were tasty. I can’t say I prefer the taste to the sweetness of Oregon Dungeness, but the size was unbelievable. I’ve never seen such a thing in person, but now I’ve tasted and seen that the King is good. Was it Saturday night when we did it? Bah, I can’t remember.
Sunday was another monster day. Well fed (we ate huge every day) and well rested, we crammed more into Sunday than most people do in a week. First, we skipped church. (Get over it!) Then we went fly-fishing for grayling. I’ve never understood the fascination with fly-fishing, and although it was fun, I’ll stick with spin casting for now. The water was in good shape, but the wind about drove me crazy. Mandi struggled as well. We caught nothing for about an hour, then decided to bag it for the next activity with the hope that we might come back later. (There’s enough light to fish 24/7, so we weren’t pressed for daylight.)
On our way out we spotted a mother moose with newborn twins. We tried to get some good pics, but they were camera shy.
Losing interest in catching anything on a fly, we headed out to the Chena River State Recreation Area, where we hiked along the Angel Rocks Trail. It’s only a 3.5 mile hike, but I’d tweaked my knee just before the trip, so I was nervous about pushing it on a hike. As we strode to the trailhead, we met up with two other groups hiking in at the exact same time we were. Bummer. Dave thought they were just a bunch of college kids out for a stroll, so he put the hammer 
down and we started trucking up the trail. At first it was okay, and we passed both groups after the first quarter mile. But one of the groups was comprised of four soldiers from Ft. Wainwright who were trucking along themselves. After about three-quarters of a mile, they were still close enough for me to hear them breathing, and Mandi was ready to drop. So, we stopped and let them by us. It was nice to have a moment to just enjoy the view.
The trail up to the Angel Rocks is flat for the first half-mile, then climbs precipitously up about 900 feet past several outcroppings which 
make great rest areas and viewpoints. We stopped at at least two of these on our way to the top, but still managed to peak out about a minute before our Army buddies. It was disappointing, really, to find so many people there. In addition to our group, there were the military attachment, and two other groups all at the top and all at the same time. It was positively crowded! In fact, it was so crowded that we felt somewhat rushed and didn’t get any good pictures. Hiking is like that. You want to be alone, that’s the whole idea.
On the way down, we gave up trying to stay separate from the soldiers and just travelled together. I led the way, which was the back end of a loop, not an out-and-back, since no one else had ever been there either. Somewhere near the top I missed a turn and we followed a washout straight down to the bottom, where we picked up a trail that was NOT on the map. Well, actually, it was the main trail, but since we’d come down a washout without realizing it, we didn’t know 
that, and it really wasn’t on the map that we had, which showed the main trail ending with the loop we had veered out of. Bottom line, he lost maybe half of a mile lost on the wrong trail, which isn’t much when you think about it. The hike was beautiful, and we made it back in one piece and my knee was fine, all was well.
Well, but not finished. Our next stop was the Chena River Hot Springs Resort. There we sat and soaked in the boulder-lined pool. Ahhhh… It was amazing, and I know I keep saying that about everything, but if you haven’t been to Alaska, you’ll just have to trust that I’m not exaggerating. Lazing about in the geothermal pool after a good hike and dinner at the resort was a perfect ending to the day. Except the day wasn’t over yet…
On our way back to Fairbanks, we stopped at a pond and using my cheese colored Rooster Tail (which NEVER fails) I caught my first grayling. Yes, it was only about six inches long, but that’s not the point. It was a grayling, and that’s all that counts. Then we drove home and slept like logs.
Monday was another day of rest. We did a little shopping and visited North Pole, AK, which is nice, but overall, it was slow. Not bad at all, just slow. Since our flight was leaving at one in the morning, we wanted to end our week with a little relaxation. In North Pole, we visited the Christmas House, and the Knotty Shop, which are basically just really nice souvenir stores. I bought an amazing walking stick (Diamond Willow) in the Knotty Shop, which specializes in that type of thing. It was gnarled from the top to about ¾ of the way down its five foot length. None of the other walking sitcks fo rsale, and there were plenty, even came close. Its beautiful. However, the TSA agents at the airport wouldn’t allow me to take it on the plane as a carry-on, which I found ironic since they turned around and allowed a guy just behind me in the line to bring his fly-pole carrier with him. The two items were identical in size, and the fly-pole carrier is made of metal! Oh yeah, AND they passed my pocket knife through. Bunch of idiots. I checked the walking stick, but it was unprotected, and by the time it made it home, a full day after we did, it had stickers all over it and had been banging around the cargo holds of God knows how many planes for a day and a half. I was not happy, but at least they didn’t break it.
The last thing we did before heading to the airport was visit the Alaska Salmon Bake, which is an all-you-can-eat restaurant located in a tourist area designed to look like mid-19th century Fairbanks with log cabins and small shops. At one shop they have a large walk-in freezer set to -40 F. Of course we had to try it. For five dollars they put a coat on you and let you experience Fairbanks in the winter. The whole place though is basically an artist colony with a really nice restaurant. The food was great, and, of course, all-you-can-eat salmon, prime rib, halibut and cod. There’s a small salad bar, but WHO CARES!? The meat was awesome!
And that’s about it. After dinner we grabbed our luggage, checked in to our flight and headed back to the Great Plains, which aren’t that great, but are definitely plain. Apologies to Midwesterners, but this place doesn’t hold a candle to any other region of the country when it comes to outdoor adventure…
Pizza Hut, of course. Where else would an American go to dinner on a 12-hour layover. I've eaten at Pizza Hut in more countries than I can keep track of. At least this time I have company with me, thus reducing the likelihood that I'll get robber as I did in Amsterdam last December.
