I'M IN ALASKA!
Finally, after so many years of waiting, I'm here; my gun has arrived safely, and everything is ready for my big adventure!
My Alaskan welcome is so dramatic, that the moment I leave the airport I'm wide awake, even though, yet again, I've skipped over several time-zones. Now, I'm ten hours behind Hungarian time, and it's difficult to adapt.
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Alaska is wonderful.
I knew I was coming to a beautiful country, but the journey from the airport to the hotel is so breathtaking; so like a picture-postcard; so Alaskan, that this Alaska-loving hunter is completely unprepared for the reality of it all. So far, I've experienced almost nothing of this marvellous land, but already, the little that I have seen has exceeded all my hopes and expectations - and they were not small!
Széchenyi, talking about the Taj Mahal, in his book "Nahar", says that reality rarely lives up to your expectations.
But Alaska is special, because it instantly gives far more than you ask for.
Despite it being night-time, the sky in bright with strange light effects. Opposite the road running into the city, I can see the craggy, jagged outline outline of mountains, with odd cloud-formations behind them; half-way up is a layer of mist, floating like a skirt. At the airport, for the benefit of the newly-arrived hunter, were several display cases showing the local fauna, and in the lobby of hotel there were two stuffed bears standing beside each other, one Brown, one Polar.
This is it: this is Alaska, a real land for hunters, a true wilderness!
It might seem strange that I have such a positive impression of this country after only being here for a few hours, and travelling just a few miles, but it's first impressions that count. Your image of a place can change with time, but it's your first impressions that will define your outlook. I'm sure I'll have a very, very good time, now that I'm finally in Alaska!
At the airport I was met by Andy Morrison, who is organizing my next ten days. My arrival was not entirely smooth, as my gun appeared to have been lost. Luckily, it wasn't, but it did greatly add to my knowledge of gun-transport within America. When I was in Chicago I waited 15 mins. before asking where my gun was, and being told that it was in the oversize-luggage department. And so it was.
Here, in Anchorage, things are different; here they have your gun under the counter of the Alaskan Airlines desk, while you've been waiting beneath the oversize-luggage sign. The lesson is: don't worry if you can't find your gun straight away - it will turn up. My popcorn-eating friend in Chicago did a good job.
While I was chasing around after my gun, Andy - neither of us knew what the other looked like - had me paged several times over the tannoy, but I was so engrossed in my search that I didn't hear any of them. Finally, Andy guessed what was happening, and tracked me down to the airline desk, and the panic was over.
Andy is a professional journey-organizer, a survival-expert and a mountain-guide. He's also an acquaintance of Jennifer Estrada, Cabela's Outdoor Adventure travel organizer. On Jennifer's advice I
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got in touch with him because, as I mentioned in the first entry in my diary, I definitely want to spend a few days seeing Alaska before I start to hunt. Jennifer's advice was spot on: Andy arranged
"everything" from the first minute.
He literally took the burden from my shoulders when he put my gun-case, and the Peli 1200 box with all my ammunition,into the trunk of his small truck. I shan't be needing them for the next few days, and, as they are large and heavy, they'd get in the way during all the travelling around. Andy will see that the two cases will be waiting for me at the start of my first hunt.
This is such a hunter-friendly country!
There's no need for a special permit to move my gun and ammunition and no need to fill in special forms at the police station, so I don't have to waste half a day there. My general impression is that, here, the authorities do not consider me a potential source of danger, just because I've got a gun.
In twenty minutes, driven by Andy, I was in the Anchorage Hilton, one of the best hotels in the city.
This hotel is going to be of key-importance to me in the months to come, so even during this preparatory phase it merits the name "Expedition Headquarters". I'll come back several times, and some of my equipment and civilian clothes will always be kept here. I expected, and am expecting, the arrival of various parcels, either ordered on the internet, or being sent by Cabala's. I've hardly brought any equipment or hunting clothes with me, so it is vitally important that all these things arrive in time.
There were, however, a few problems.
For some reason, Cabela's was the only parcel not to have arrived, and everything I need for my trip is in it. I don't know how the mistake has happened, but when office hours have begun I will call Paula, the only person who knows all about my order, and we'll try to work something out.
In this hotel my room is again high up on the 21st floor, in a part called the Anchorage Tower. The view here is so much nicer than the one in Chicago! While I'm writing this, I can see, over on my left, one of the ports of Anchorage. At dawn, half-asleep, I was soon woken up by the ships' sirens. I'm constantly looking out of the window with my binoculars, watching the sea, the city and the harbour.
This room is a stategic point, and there is so much to see that it constantly distracts me from writing up my diary. Indeed, for me, this view is a unique experience, with fog lying over the sea, and on the far side of the bay the mountains thrusting their dark peaks up through the mist. It's worth waking up early, just for this!
The railway runs beneath the hotel, but how disturbing it will be, I can't say, as I haven't yet seen anything on the tracks. Grand Central it certainly isn't.
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Before going to have breakfast - breakfast is critical for me; if it isn't any good, that's the last time I'll go to that hotel - I'll give you a brief description of the city that I'm about to explore.
Anchorage is an odd place: it's on the coast, but doesn't have a proper sea-shore. At least, not always. Towards the sea are wide mud-flats, visible at low-tide; they have the second highest tidal variation in the world here, around 40ft. - as far as I can judge at the moment, it's high tide - so if anyone wants to go swimming they'll have to struggle over all the mud. It's lucky that very few want to: though, for Alaska, it has mild winters, between 5 and 19F, even in summer it's hardly beach weather.
With its population of 227,000, Anchorage deserves the name, The Big Apple of the North (copyright NYC).
What made the city so attractive to me, even before I'd seen it, was the fact that the average age here is only 32, so it is a city of my generation. This is true of all Alaska.
Anchorage is the starting point for every Alaskan expedition, because, as the slogan puts it,
"Anchorage: 30 mins. from Alaska". It's easy to get anywhere from here; it is a hub for transport, tourism and the economy, and there's no doubt that it is the beating heart of the state. The city was founded in 1914, to build the railway, and operated as a port to receive all the incoming supplies.
That's why it was first called an anchorage, a term which stuck with it, and became its proper name.
It's still Alaska's most important port, with 95% of all imports passing through it.
The city, like many others in America, was born on the drawing board, and follows a grid-plan. For many Europeans such a plan makes American cities seem cold and soulless, but this type of lay-out, with its numbered streets, makes it virtually impossible to get lost.
If a foreigner happens to be wandering around Alaska, it's only a matter of time before he bumps into a military institution. The Russians are close by - in fact, few people know that they actually discovered Alaska - and the Americans live in constant fear of a Russian invasion - which will never happen. Having given the Americans Alaska, on 20th June 1867, practically for nothing, they are hardly likely to use force to get it back now. But the locals won't believe this, and would rather build more air-bases. This spring, on the index.hu site, I read that the ex-KGB agent, Igor Panarin, predicts that soon the US will collapse into six parts, and Alaska will return to Russia! This threat really shouldn't be taken too seriously: Panarin resurrects this prophecy every ten years. It's an obsession of his.
In the city, the military side of Alaska confronts the foreigner in no time; there are two bases near by: the Elmendorf Air-Force Base and Fort Richardson.
As I write, planes are practising military exercises in the Alaskan air-space, turning above the bay;
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they make my window shake.
27th March 1964 is a black day in the history of Anchorage. The famous Good Friday Earthquake was the second strongest on record, registering 9.2 on the Richter Scale. At the collision point of the Pacific and North American plates terrifying forces were released. In certain places the ground dropped 35 ft. During the quake 131 citizens died, and in the tsunami that followed, a further 106
Alaskans, along with 16 people in other areas, also lost their lives. Later, on my journey, I went to the city of Valdez, which had been completely destroyed, and was then rebuilt 4.5 miles away from its original site.
Anchorage's age of prosperity began with the building of the Trans-Alaskan Pipeline System (TAPS).
This monumental undertaking connects Prudhoe Bay, on the Beaufort Sea, with the always ice-free port of Valdez, over a length of 800 miles. In 1968 oil had been found in Prudhoe Bay and this was the only practical way of transporting it. It was built between 1975 and 1977, cost $8bn,and employed 21,000 construction workers, 31 of whom lost their lives during the work. A few incidents of sabotage occurred during its building and running; for example, on 4th October 2001, a drunken hunter shot a hole in the pipe, releasing 950 cubic meters of oil into the environment. This case is all the more surprising as the TAPS was supposedly bullet-proof ... Anchorage cleverly took advantage of the boom accompanying the building work; living standards shot up, and the infrastructure was expanded.
As the sun rises over Anchorage the light changes, and the sea-mist quickly rolls in and soon reaches the city.
Near the large airport is Float Plane Airport, a smaller one for sea-planes. We passed it on our way from the airport. 67% of Alaska can only be reached by air, so without these machines life would come to a standstill. I read somewhere that 6% of Alaskans have some sort of air vehicle; most of these are sea-planes, which start to leave their nests around 7.30 each morning.
They fly over the hotel, trying to avoid the fighters.
Afternoon
Anchorage is a very hospitable town!
It reminds me very much of Reykyavik, in Iceland. The house are no higher than 2 or three stories, so you shouldn't think in terms of a European city. Everything is on a human scale. My hotel is downtown, giving me the opportunity to explore the area. I've got the whole of today off, that's to say, I don't have any fixed plans: this day is for gathering my impressions of the city, and I intend to take full advantage of it.
The locals must think I'm crazy, because, as I walk along, I'm grinning from ear to ear. I like everything! And when I'm standing around in the middle of the road, clutching my map, and the traffic-lights say no-crossing, the cars don't even honk at me. They wait until I've decided what to do, or drive around me. There are about three streets of gift-shops downtown, all next to each other; besides the
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usual tourist junk, there are some very tempting, up-market handicrafts, at astronomical prices. I found a fantastic Mommoth tusk carving, which I can just see on my sideboard ;;; $10,000! The knives her are of very high quality; in the shops I've seen some excellent examples, made by local manufacturers. Everywhere I go there are grizzly bears, giant moose and caribou; sometimes they are made of wood or plush, carved from stone or bone, or just painted. Alaska's most well-known animals turn up everywhere, in endless variations, feeding the local tourist-trade.
Unfortunately, because of their size and weight, my cases are not easily portable. On the way here I had to pay excess-baggage charges, but that's the least of my problems. My suitcases are now so heavy and large, that I'm barely able to move around with them on my own. What makes it even worse, is that tomorrow a huge parcel will arrive from Cabela's. (During the day, Paula found out who had made the mistake, and where, and has arranged for my order to be delivered overnight from another part of the US. This is what I call service!) On top of all this, is the constant arrival of the things I've ordered on the internet. I don't remember buying so much. I've got no idea where I'll put all these new clothes and equipment. As I've already said, anything not needed for the hunt can be left at the hotel, so that should help a bit. During any expedition, the moment always comes when you have to jettison some of your luggage. The storeroom of the Hilton will not be a perfect solution, however, as this morning I've started shopping again ... Never a good sign.
I'll either have to hire a gang of porters, or solve the problem myself. So I went to the nearest post-office and asked the Post-master for his largest box, and started to fill it with all the stuff I want to send home. It's better to get rid of it now, rather than drag it around with me through various airports over the coming months.
In the afternoon I took a taxi to the Alaska Tactical Shop to order a Nightforce NXS 12-44 x 56 tactical riflescope, because while preparing for the trip, I‟ve begun to enjoy long-distance precision shooting so much that I want to take it up more seriously. The taxi-driver is a pleasant, cheerful old chap, who does this work to boost his pension. He‟s happy with his life; he‟s hunted a lot and has even shot two bears, which was quite sufficient for him. When he drops me off he makes me promise to call him when I want to go back. I successfully order the riflescope, and the shop-assistants call my taxi-driver friend , who this time arrives with his wife (they are going out somewhere). As we pull up in front of the hotel, I suddenly remember that I‟ve run out of cigars, so I ask my old friend to take me on to a tobacconist‟s. Then, quite unexpectedly, he switches off the meter, saying that I‟ve paid him enough for today, and I‟m his guest for this ride.
This is what Alaskans are really like!
From my room, using a pair of binoculars, I can see as far as the muddy river running beside the port.
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On its banks, ignoring the rain, half-in and half-out of the water, are some fishermen, constantly flicking their rods, waiting for their prey.
And not in vain, either!
One of them has just caught a huge fish, though how any fish can survive in this shallow, muddy water, I can't imagine.
Rain-clouds are descending on Anchorage.
Watching the goings-on of a busy port and a cargo railway station is as engrossing as watching big-game. Slowly, I become familiar with the routes, and sirens, of the ships. The heavier the rain or the thicker the fog, the louder the sirens sound. The real racket starts when a train is running along the coastal track,and then the two - one from the sea, the other from the rails - try to outdo each other in noise.
It is a siren competition.
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Expedition Headquarters
Anchorage Hilton