North to Alaska…
I’ve been back over a week from our trip to Alaska. I’ve been debating what to say about it. I’m not much into travelogues (go buy a Fodor’s), so I’ve been thinking of something clever and different to say. So, here goes—maybe not clever, but probably different.
What was the motivation for the trip? You’ve probably heard of the book 1000 Places to See Before You Die. I’m not planning on dying soon, so what’s the hurry for Alaska? My twist on this a la mode title (not quite as obnoxious as the Chicken Soup series) is One Dying Place I Wanted to See. I don’t care about your political persuasions or science behind them, there’s incontrovertible evidence that the polar caps are diminishing, glaciers are receding, and whole ecosystems dependent on a tundra wilderness will shortly disappear. And, I’m not talking about geological time scales here (just ask the polar bears).
Perhaps Dying is too strong a word. Only aspects of the Alaskan wilderness are dying—the rest will forever be changed, at least in my lifetime. Maybe not for the worse, but at least radically changed. So, the natural wonder of DeNali, the College Fjord, Glacier Bay, the Mendenhall Glacier, and the Inside Passage—this awe-inspiring wilderness—was a must-see. The wild life—grizzlies, moose, lynx, Dall sheep, caribou, eagles, ospreys—we saw it them all in their natural habitat. By the way, kudos to the National Park Service for limiting access to DeNali—the wilderness may be dying, but they’re attempting to let us commune with it in the least intrusive way. Or maybe this just reflects pernicious budget cuts.
What I didn’t expect to see was the dying of the American frontier. In Tuesday’s post, I spoke to the trials and tribulations of NASA and the cancellation of the shuttle program. Here I am speaking to a dying way of life—a life of strong men and women thriving amidst extreme conditions. At the University of Alaska’s Museum of the North in Fairbanks, several films had interesting interviews with such people, and we met a few in person, hearty souls for which the extreme cold of minus 60 to the heat of 90 was just a backdrop for a way of life of long nights with northern lights and long days of tundra summer.
On their weathered faces, I saw a forceful spirit missing in what Alaskans call the “lower forty-eight.” Sapping the strength of NASA is but the tip of the iceberg. The challenge of exploration, braving the elements, forging ahead into the unknown—these are being replaced by the challenge to get rich quick, practice one-upmanship, and spiritual nihilism. I’m not pushing a Palinesque call for a new American manifest destiny here—God help us if Europe and America’s colonial abuses are repeated in the unexplored areas of Earth and the solar system. I’m pushing a resistance, the rebellion against consumerism and greed and a focus on what’s more important in life, to be determined by each individual.
Most Alaskans, Native Americans and immigrants alike, share a working relationship with Mother Nature. Most I met seemed to live by the Native American creed that you only take from Gaia what you need, to live a good life within what has become a cliché, that “great circle of life.” If you take salmon from the rivers, you put salmon back in, for example. If you use the trees of the forest, you plant more trees. This is not always true—many companies and their political lackeys preach otherwise. But, the common man, and obviously the Native Americans, often expressed their desire to do no harm to Mother Nature.
It’s a mistake often made by many that doing no harm to Mother Nature means leaving it alone completely. Let’s take the wolves. Many feel horrible to see them bring down a caribou, for example. But, as they thin the herds, they make them stronger. It’s right to allow them to come back, to do the job Mother Nature intended. As the brown bear scoops out a salmon, he’s making future salmon stock stronger. Gaia knows what She is doing—and we can do our own part. Recent forest fires all through the Southwest and West are part of the natural plan—human beings have exacerbated the devastation by allowing dry and dead brush and trees to accumulate throughout the forests—in short, by fighting forest fires.
Speaking of wolves, their closest cousins (at least in appearance), the sled dogs, left what will be a long-lasting impression. It’s also a mistake to think that human beings’ treatment of working animals is always exploitive, detrimental or abusive. We have plenty of examples here in the lower forty-eight, of course, of good working relationships between human beings and animals. Seeing-eye dogs, dogs that help law enforcement, and others play an important working role in modern society. A few weeks ago in my post about Westerns, I spoke of the sheep dog Valiant. It’s amazing to watch these animals herd sheep, working with their masters to eke out a living in the wide open spaces.
The sled dogs, however, are a special case. Much of what is known about the Alaskan wilderness, the basis for commerce for many decades, and the epitome of the special working relationship between human beings, especially Native Americans, and their dogs, all of this is due to the Alaskan sled dog. On our trip, we saw the kennels of Susan Butcher’s family. Four-time winner of the Iditarod, her family carries on the tradition of breeding and training these magnificent and intelligent animals.
Like the sheep dogs’ natural instinct to herd, I was amazed at the sled dogs’ natural instinct to run. They live to run—and the human’s contribution is more than just to say “which way,” as the team and musher work together to travel from point A to point B in what in Alaska is often the only way to make the trip. Susan’s family was selling a children’s book that describes how she raised Granite, the runt of his litter, to be her lead dog in the Iditarod. The working relationship between human beings and their dogs, forever a wonderful mystery to me, is simply portrayed in this book. I highly recommend it to your children. It exemplifies part of the frontier spirit we have lost. (Susan Butcher died in 2006 from leukemia.)
You have seen that our trip north to Alaska was one of adventure and spiritual renewal. Alaska is one dying place you will want to see, for all of the above, and more. It is worth the trip.
