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Bigger than Texas - Alaska, the final frontier

By Robyn Cubie Since this week’s topic is ‘All you wanted to know about Alaska,’ then how is this for starters? It’s very big. How big you say? Well how about the size of the U.K.

By Robyn Cubie

Since this week’s topic is ‘All you wanted to know about Alaska,’ then how is this for starters? It’s very big. How big you say? Well how about the size of the U.K., France and the rest of the world put together!

OK, OK, so maybe I am exaggerating a little, but as the news editor in my first reporting job once said, "never let the facts stand in the way of a good story."

According to that Lonely Planet bible that all backpackers seemingly subscribe to, Alaska is "huge at 591,004 square miles which makes it a fifth of the size of the USA and as big as England, France, Italy and Spain put together."

Not only that, the bears are bigger, the salmon fatter, the mountains higher and the stories taller.

Alaska, you see, is all about size. It also ranks highly in any land developer’s book in terms of being the real estate steal of the century. The Americans bought it off the hapless Russians for a mere $7.2 million back in 1867 — that works out at less than two cents an acre. Not bad considering the fur, oil, gas and gold returns that have been subsequently gleaned off the Alaskan landscape.

However, for the sake of this article, Canadians are welcome to think of Alaska as their biggest national park, inhabited by a mere half million or so of their U.S. neighbours. Just kidding!

The first key observation of the "Alaskanite" lifestyle is transport choices. Anywhere else in the western world it is common for the average household to have a garage, maybe two. In Alaska, private airstrips are the norm. My friends were no exception but their airplane was.

"How about we fire up our old twin engine SNB- 5 ex World War Two navy plane at Anchorage and fly to Homer for dinner — they cook up a mean halibut over that way?" Well, twist my rubber arm.

Sucking back an Amber Alaskan ale, all in the name of research of course, I enjoyed my bird’s eye view of the "final frontier." One over-riding observation did jump out at me — those never-ending mountains.

Boasting 17 of North America’s 20 highest peaks and 5,000 glaciers, Alaska isn’t the place to forget your woolly mitts.

After a 45-minute flight we arrive in Homer - home to author Tom Bodett, big blueberry crops and record-breaking 400-pound halibut. Come summertime, this small coastal community turns into a virtual "RV world" with fishers from all over the continent coming to try their luck.

After making our way along the crowded five-mile Homer Spit that stretches into Kachemak Bay, we found ourselves ensconced in the rowdy, friendly atmosphere of the Salty Dawg Saloon.

It didn’t take long to discover the old adage about seven men to every woman in Alaska is true. A girl could get a big ego in this part of the world. For the most part, Alaskan male locals can be described as rough diamonds — plenty of ZZ Top lookalikes who can tell a good yarn and like their beer. Music, such as ACDC’s classic "Shook Me All Night Long," was a popular choice, while patrons staggered around to the beat, spilling half their beer in the process.

After one of the best seafood dinners ever served up, the decision was made that it was time to catch our own fish — after all, the salmon run was on.

From late July to mid-September the streams of Alaska are chock full of salmon — sockeye (red salmon), king (Chinook), pink (humpie), coho (silver) and chum. If you fail to catch a salmon in Alaska at this time of year, you are probably also the type to perish in a fully stocked grocery store. It’s pretty much a case of cast your line out and pull one in.

However on the way to Valdez where we were to start our four-day sea kayaking trip, we swung via Denali National Park. The objective — to see Mount Denali or Mount McKinley as it is also known.

This is not a difficult task. Rising an impressive 20,316 feet out of a 2,000-foot landscape, the ice and snow-capped Denali dwarfs all around it. Be warned however, if getting away from it all is your objective, it’s one shared by the million or so visitors to the park every year.

For a little more solitude, try sea kayaking in Prince William Sound — home to some mind-blowing scenery and the worst oil spill in US history. At the surface level anyway, the devastating effects of the 1989 Exxon Valdez’s spillage of 11 million gallons of oil seem to have subsided.

A two-hour boat ride from Valdez, took us our cabin in Jackson Bay where it was just friends, wildlife, ocean and mountains.

Two of the most startling things about this area are the ice-bergs and mountains which rise straight out of the water — no foothills. With the Chugach Mountains providing the beautiful distant backdrop, it tends to melt the rest of the world away.

The perfect moment came for me about two days into our trip. It was one of those warm, summer Alaskan evenings around 11:30 at night, almost as light as day except for the silver shimmer on the water and the pink frosting on the surrounding snowy peaks. I lay back in my kayak, listening to the salmon jump and watching the blue-pink sky slowly darken.

Suddenly I heard a noise, about 30 feet from me on the shore. Out of the dark trees emerged a black bear cub. Without seeing me, it walked to the water’s edge, sniffed the air and then ambled away. Time, as they say, stood still.

Other exciting Alaskan wildlife can also be found in the ocean. Seals and gulls galore enjoy life around Prince William Sound, and trophy photos in Valdez pay homage to the big guys captured on film or spear, such as sperm whales.

From personal experience, here is a word of advice. If you decide to approach a basking sea lion while in a double-seater sea kayak (AKA divorce boat), make sure you take the back seat and don’t go with a photographer.

I had the misfortune of being the front seat paddler on this occasion, with my friend plus his camera at the helm. Enthusiastically he paddled in close for the perfect shot, ignoring my shrieks as I shrank back as far possible as the beast roared and made a few lunges in my direction. For the record, sea lions have bad breath and don’t like you knowing it.

Land mammals in Alaska hold their own recipe for excitement. With all the salmon around it’s not surprising that Alaska’s brown, black and Klondike bears get fat. This would explain the size 14-plus bear prints found in the mud not far from our cabin. The owner of these prints must have carried some weight to make such a deep impression. Regardless, it made an impression on me, as I realized any attempt I made to look big in the event of a bear encounter would make the animal snigger at best.

Moose — those oversized cows with oven gloves for antlers — also make a key impression.

To round off my Alaskan adventure I went mountain biking with my local friend Leah just outside of Anchorage. While riding we were warned by two joggers about a female moose and calf just ahead on the track. These creatures are notoriously protective and kill several people every year by stamping on them — first your legs then your head. Nice. Anyway sure enough, there in the clearing was this brown cow-sized moose checking us out.

My doubtful response was, " Well it’s large but doesn’t look big enough to kill us."

Silence.

"That’s probably because that one is the baby," replied Leah, as mummy moose suddenly loomed from behind a big tree. No career changes to zoology are planned at present.

All in all, Alaska is one big adventure and worth circling on the world map when you start planning your next holiday travels. The "land of the midnight sun" and "final frontier" has a magic and aura unlike any other place in North America.

However, I would like to make a suggestion to Alaskan tourist authorities for a new slogan that I think would catch on;

"Size matters — visit Alaska."

Don’t forget to pack your fishing rod.