WE DID THE PAN AM HIGHWAY - USHIAIA TO PRUDHOE BAY

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  Prudhoe Bay, Alaska, United States
Sunday, July 19, 2009

ON THE ROAD AGAIN: PRUDHOE BAY OR BUST

July 6 – 11

Leaving San Diego after the 4th of July celebrations, we drove Highway 5 north and found the usual traffic jams in LA. How do they stay so patient? "Tubular, dude!" The Central Valley growing regions looked drier and less productive than usual and were adorned with signs referring to the recent changes mandated by Congress to share agricultural water rights with new suburban housing developments. “Congress created this desert,” they screamed. California is 797 miles south to north; we ended up in Redding in northern CA on the 6th and crossed into Oregon to Portland on the 7th, with some quick shopping at a Lowe's for necessities.  By Wednesday night, we were eating at the only Chinese restaurant in Cache Creek, British Columbia, and getting a swim and sun tan at the motel pool at 7pm – the sun stayed up later and later as we drove north.

We had a reservation at the Best Western in Prince George, BC, but the outstanding manager there let us switch to the next one in Chetwynd since we had time to do it

THE START

. A superb drive along four lakes, each longer and more beautiful than the last – one was 60 miles long - connected by sparkling Canadian rivers among the Rocky Mountains. We saw snow in the northern-most crevasses of the Rockies, snow-capped and awesome, as we approached 3000 miles north of our starting point.  Moose, deer, reindeer, buffalo, bear and mountain sheep wandered the roadsides and sometimes crossed the road along the way. We encountered the entourage of a solar-powered car and its chase vehicle, making a statement, between beautiful forests of 60-foot tall birch and spruce. In Whitehorse, the Gold Rush Inn sent us to the locally owned and operated Sanchez Cantina for dinner, where we had the best salsa we’ve ever had anywhere and the best Mexican food north of the Mexican border: local fresh halibut and superb black beans.  Whitehorse was the jumping-off place for gold diggers to get to Dawson in Klondike gold rush.

July 12 – 16

On July 12, the sun didn’t set; it was the end of its journey to the north and the longest day of the year. Luckily, we packed our sleeping masks, garnered on many a trans-Atlantic flight. We drove 600 miles to Fairbanks, the second largest city in Alaska, wherein lies the University of Alaska and some very interesting museums of history, natural science and art. On the way, a chocolate-brown moose leapt across the road in front of our Jeep, but we managed to avoid him (good for us – so messy; better for him)

MOVIN ON

. We met a biker from Austria named Thomas at one of the rest stops; he is cycling from Prudhoe Bay on the Pan Am Highway to Ushuaia, Argentina and climbing every mountain along the way; he had just climbed Mount McKinley. His goal was raising money for Doctors without Borders as he went; we think he was a physician himself. We’re thinking of sponsoring him and will let you know if it’s a good cause.

Settled into our hotel near the airport, we had dinner on the river and 9 pm sunburn. On Monday, we organized ourselves for the Dalton Highway and Prudhoe Bay and visited the sites.  The University of Alaska garden center had the largest cabbage imaginable; all the plants were oversized due to 20-22 hour days. The art and history museums covered the World War II internment of the Japanese with honesty and gave a strong sense of the courage and survival skills involved in early settlements. It also explained the permafrost and had some great grizzlies. From there we went to the 'historic’ (i.e., old) downtown and a saloon with a true local character as host and an excellent crab-burger. Dinner that night was on the Chena River again, this time on the northern bank, so that we looked south and were not blinded by the 9 pm sun; fabulous salmon (my favorite food, you will have guessed by now) and excellent prime rib.

Tuesday the 14th found us moving out bright and early heading for the dreaded Dalton Highway. The Dalton is 414 miles long and was originally built as an industrial highway to bring in equipment for the development of the Prudhoe Bay oil fields

The rocky Mountains - North

. We have read and heard many a story about this last stretch of road including a story of a friend of ours who turned back with only 100 miles to go on a motorcycle. Our guess is the stories are from at least 5 years ago. While the road does have its bad spots, we have seen and driven many a worse road. Our trip plan called for 2 to 3 days each way.  We easily made it to the half way point by 3 in the afternoon. We found our cabin in Wisman after a little bit of looking, about 3 miles off the road near a beautiful river Kyoikukuk, in which we waded and splashed, skipping stones across the surface of the water. We had been forewarned that no restaurant was within 20 miles so we had brought  - you guessed it - salmon to cook for dinner. Breakfast was provided for us at the owners’ cabin. 

Wednesday the 15th - D Day - After a hearty breakfast of sourdough pancakes and eggs over easy we headed north for the final 225 miles - roughly 50 miles more required in fuel then our gas tank holds. You may remember from other writings that our tank is 15 gallons and on a good day we get 12 miles a gallon. Our gas cans were full and it only takes a little siphoning to cure the problem.  By 3 o'clock we had arrived at the end of our journey - Prudhoe Bay. These last 225 miles took us through the Brooks mountain range and down the North Slope. Hopefully our pictures will give you an idea of what the area is like since words really do not do it justice. We drove through the snow-capped mountains and vast plains of tundra – the stillness broken only by sights of a few caribou or musk oxen on the horizon, and the gravel road humming beneath our wheels

AGAIN

. We had fears of the long semi trucks blocking out our vision with their dust and forcing us to the edge of the road, but the truckers were very considerate and gave us plenty of leeway.  We arrived in Prudhoe Bay in late afternoon and had time to drive around the industrial/oil complex that makes it up. Every name in the history of the oil industry was represented from BP to Schlumberger. It’s heaven for fans of construction and oil equipment, some with tires as tall as small buildings.

We left without regrets the next morning, glad to have reached the end of our personal journey on the Pan American highway from one end to the other, approximately 17,560 miles. The sun was shining on the tundra as we retraced our route over the Brooks Range and back to Weisman for another stay in a snug log cabin surrounded by fir trees next to a sparkling Alaskan river.

So far on this final Alaskan leg of the Pan Am, we have found people as nice and helpful here as in Ushuaia and . If anyone saw any hesitation in what we were trying to do, they immediately asked if they could help. It is also useful being an old gray haired couple. We have also found new meaning in the phrase “The land of the midnight sun”. Yes, we all know what that means – it is light up here most of the time. What we do not realize is that the sun does not set for a period of time during the summer and when it is up the hottest time of the day it is between 7 and 9 at night

AGAIN

. You really can get a sun burn at 9 pm – no kidding. The temperature has been in the high 70’s and low eighties most of the time – even in Prudhoe Bay. Yes, the pipeline has spoiled the scenery to some extent, but from what we have seen it has not spoiled the environment. Where possible the pipeline runs underground where no permafrost exists and it is concealed behind trees again where possible. It is hidden from view about 30% of the time. We also learned why the Arctic Circle, which is 150 north of Fairbanks, advertises it has no hiking paths. When you take a walk through the forest or across open meadows you find yourself treading on a foot of sponge. As you pass through an area, your footprints disappear. This is permafrost. It was also amazing to discover that not all the pumping stations pushed the oil forward. They in fact were slowing it down. Apparently, the 4,400 drop from the Brooks Mountains to the ocean really gets the stuff moving like a runaway locomotive.

More Pictures

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