Listening to the Radio in Anchorage

This blog is getting kind of lame, so I'm going to talk about something cool today: namely, what it is like to be me and listen to the radio in my car while driving around Anchorage.

First of all, Anchorage LOVES the 90's.  I have heard Gangsta's Paradise so many times that I'm almost singing the real lyrics instead of the Weird Al lyrics when I hear it.  Also: Salt 'N Pepa.  OK that's the late 80's, but whatever.

So about Salt N' Pepa: they're awesome.  BUT, just as an fyi . . . if you have to roll down your window to scan into your work parking lot, and you park near your boss, I would HIGHLY recommend turning down the volume if you're listening to Push It on the way to work.  Just a suggestion.  To myself.

Back in my U of C days, one of my BFFs and I would cruise Hyde Park, scamming for dudes, eating french fries, and listening to tunes.  On one such occasion, the smash hit by Lipps, Inc., Funktown, came on the radio.  We spent the next four minutes realizing that we lived in the funkiest town of all: Hyde Park!  Look at all those haggard students and bewildered nerds in puffy coats (it was winter).  Gotta make a move to a town that's right for meeeee.

Fast forward to winter in Anchorage.  Anchorage loves this new song I'm Sexy and I Know It (I'm not 100% sure this song is new.  It might be from the mid-90s).  Listening to this song while driving around town reminds me so much of the Lipps, Inc. incident.  I love cruising the snowy streets, imagining that everybody's stopping "and staring at me," just like they're all staring at the guy in the song.  No one can deny it: I'm rockin' my sleeping bag coat, Uggs, and mittens.  If Anchorage winter-wear isn't sexy, then what is?

So keep up the good work, Anchorage radio.  Although maybe stop playing so much Phil Collins.  He kind of freaks me out.

The Holidays Are Here

I spent the day after Thanksgiving in true holiday style: drinking, watching a tree-lighting ceremony, and seeing the Nutcracker. It was delightful!

It's Thanksgiving!

Which means that I'm here to tell you about how great my life is, and how you should feel bad about yourself if your life isn't similarly great.  Don't try to deny it: that's the point of a preponderance of Thanksgiving posts.

Well not this one.  Because this Thanksgiving, I'm not in the mood for creating a list of things for which I am thankful, no matter how many articles I read about the value of "cultivating a mindset of thankfulness."  Barf.  I tried to snap myself out of it by hiding in my room all night to watch TV and eat M&Ms, but now I just have a headache.  So that didn't work.  Which actually surprises me.  Since when does socially isolating yourself and eating junk food NOT make you feel better?

I suppose I'm cranky because I know I'm in a bind.  Family holidays are always, of course, full of drama.  Given that I seem to be moving farther and farther away from home with each passing year, and given that the Friday after Thanksgiving apparently isn't a holiday anymore, it just makes less and less sense to go home.  But then I feel homesick!  The universe conspires to remind me, and all other similarly-situated people, that if you're not spending Thanksgiving with your family, well you may think you're hip and cool and have formed an alternate family or whatever the hip term is for "friends" these days, but you're actually just failing in some way.  Failing to be close enough to your family.  Failing to have started a family of your own.  Failing to be a responsible member of your family and make the trip back to see them.  Pick your fail.  It's exhausting!

So am I thankful to be spending the day with a ragtag bunch of awesome people?  Of course.  But am I also thankful for M&Ms and The X-Files?  Absolutely.

What's the Opposite of Grievances?

Well tonight, I'm airing those.

1.  Sledding.  Awesome.  That's all that needs to be said.
2.  What happens in the 60's, stays in the 60's.
3.  The real reason for this post . . . check out what a BAMF I am (the first is leaving home in the morning, the second is on my way home at the end of the day . . . thank goodness it warmed up!):

Airing a Few Grievances

1.  You do not WALK in lane one.  What is wrong with you people? Yes, you moved after I passed you a couple of times, but if I see you there again, I will punch the back of your head (just kidding, thought police: I have never, nor will I ever, punch someone in the head because they're in my way).
2. Allow me a minute of your time to discuss . . . winter sports.  What.  The.  Heck.  Snow and ice are really slippery.  This is a good reason to AVOID them.  Not a good reason to put smooth boards or blades on your feet and hang out on them in arctic temperatures.  WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!  Furthermore, all of the clothing that one wears in order to participate in winter sports (or, let's be honest, to participate in winter in general) is so big and bulky and ridiculous.  A life in which you're happier wearing a sleeping bag with arms than you are not wearing one . . . well that's no life at all.  Although I was gifted some pretty snazzy ski pants today, so maybe it's not all bad.
3.  Wind chill.  It's already in the single digits, Alaska.  No need to blow double digit winds.  It's overkill.
4.  Hey Anchorage?  Are you listening?  Spreading gravel all over the roads is not as effective as salting them.  I'm sorry, but it's just not.  No one can tell where the lanes are.  I have to walk across an ice-rink-equivalent to get from my office to my car.  I've forgotten what asphalt looks like.

OK.  I feel better.  And to make amends with my current home, allow me to show that Alaska is indeed still magnificent in the winter.

Happy Halloween!

Just the bare bones for this post, since it's already late.

Saturday = Halloween party and late night dancing (while in costume, of course).  And speaking of costumes, allow me to introduce . . . Sexy Wealth of Nations.

Sunday = first snow of the year, and my first time driving in snow ever.  I was pretty nervous, but the Subaru and I handled it well, I think.  And now it feels like real winter around here.  But that might also be because it's probably not going to get above freezing again until March.

Monday = Halloween!  My roommates and I bought full-sized candy bars (I've always wanted to be the cool house) and watched The Ring.  Wish me luck falling asleep tonight . . .

I Miss NY

There.  I said it.  I'm not sure if it's my life there that I'm missing, or if it's the city itself, or both.  Probably both.

I'm reading a book that takes place not just in NYC, but in Morningside Heights/the UWS, where I used to live.  It's filled with descriptions of corners and places in the park, most of which I used to see every day.

And it's snowing in NY right now.  Snowing!  Before it's even snowed here.  Which means that someday soon there will be Christmas displays in the windows downtown, and lights strung up in trees, and ice skating rinks.  And I know that those things will be here in Anchorage too.  But the part of Alaska that is amazing is not the city.  In Alaska you're left amazed by how beautiful the mountains and waters are, and by how wild everything is, even in the most urban areas.  In NY, you're left amazed by what's been built . . . by what's been made.  The city is so beautiful, and we (humans), we made it.  And yet . . . we didn't.  We built the buildings and the roads and the monuments, but there's something more than that.  There's something almost magical about how one small island can be so infinite.

Karaoke, a Texas Wedding, and a Double Rainbow (full on all the way across the sky)

Karaoke was awesome.  I'd never done karaoke in front of a bar before, but it was great.  And I learned that my friends and roommates have mad talent.  Exhibit A: Roommate #1 starts us off with the crowd pleasing "Baby Got Back."  Exhibit B: Roommate #2 busts out a totally legit singing voice.  If the law thing doesn't work out, I expect to see him in concert in a few years.  Exhibit C: friend and fellow U of Cer receives handshakes from the audience for his self-edited version of "99 Problems." After a little dancing in the bar's basement, we walked home, made some chicken fingers, and watched . . . you know I can't even remember what we watched.  I guess that means it was a good night.

The Texas wedding was a) a trip home, b) the marriage of one of my oldest friends (we've known each other since we were 11), and c) yet another opportunity for the Companion and me to bicker about who's the better dancer.  This means that I got to see my family, eat all of my favorite Texan foods, hang out with my middle school crew, and remain convinced that I'm always right about everything, especially when it comes to dancing.

Last but not least: the double rainbow (what does this mean?).  Full disclosure: the Anchorage double rainbow was not nearly as bright and vivid as that guy's double rainbow, but the single rainbow (pictured below (I stole this pic from a co-worker)) was one of the most amazing rainbows I've ever seen.

The rainbow was pretty perfect timing, too, because I'd been feeling a bit glum.  Not only are we very quickly losing daylight up here, but it has been cold and rainy to boot.  I have, however, made some bald eagle friends: a pair of them has been flying around outside my window pretty regularly. So patriotic.  I think I even saw one of them clutching a little American flag the other day.

Hey There, Stranger

It has, obviously, been quite some time since I've last written.  The Companion has come and gone and I am once again left to fend for myself (sort of).

Case in point:  I dropped the Companion off at the airport last night, and as I'm driving home, sobbing and listening to Fergie's "Big Girls Don't Cry" (I wish this were a joke . . . ), a warning indicator lights up on my dash.  "What that CRAP, Subaru?  *sob*  You'd better turn that off right now!!  *sniffle*  WHY DON'T I HAVE ANY KLEENEX IN THIS CAR?!?!"  I manage to make it home without getting pulled over for erratic driving, and I find out that the warning light is for tire pressure.  This morning I call up Subaru to schedule a free inspection (it's "Car Care" month, conveniently).

Subaru Man: Yes we can schedule that.  How old is your car?
Me: It's new.
SM: Well then you really don't need an inspection, actually.
Me: HA, got you there, Mr. Subaru Man!!  My tire pressure light came on LAST NIGHT.  How do you like THAT?
SM: Um yeah that happens in the winter here.  Once it gets below a certain temperature you have to fill your tires a bit.  You can do it at any gas station.
Me: Oh.  Ummm . . . okthanksbye!

Awkward.

So I dealt with that after work today which ended up being fairly tedious (but not a good story, so we're going to move along).  Luckily I had half of a delicious homemade lasagne waiting for me at home, which leads me to . . . the Companion's visit.

First and foremost, we spent time doing non-Alaska-specific things, like going to the movies, being lazy, and eating.  The eating was really the best.  The Companion is a great cook, and we both love to eat, so I got to enjoy two weeks of pizzas, cookies, Mexican, spaghetti and meatballs, lasagne, and all of the wine and chit-chat that always accompanies our meals.

We also made time for a happy hour with an excellent view, a downtown dance club (where apparently we are indeed really lucky not to have been shot), and, for the finale, dinner at Double Musky (a local legend with amazing crab-stuffed halibut and fantastic wine) followed by a night at a ski lodge and a beautiful hike.

I'll see him again just next week, but it's hard not to feel that this is where the year apart begins.

First Frost . . . and puppies!

First this:

Then this:

The first picture is self-explanatory: there was FROST on my car this morning.  Looks like I need to add "ice scraper" to my grocery list.

The second picture is of the view from my desk this morning.  A co-worker heard how much I like Boston Terriers, so she brought in pictures of her dog from when he was a puppy.  I kept them for the morning, lined them up on my window, and gazed at them longingly every five minutes or so.

Finally, for no reason whatsoever, here are some pics of my own little guy, Oliver:

Two Truths and a Lie: Alaska Edition

I'm a bit short on pictures this week, so I'm spicing up this post with a little icebreaker-style trivia.  For each category below, I've listed three "facts," two of which are actually facts, and one of which is also a fact, but I cannot believe it is a fact.

Friday: Nesting
1. I bought one of these.
2. I took a special trip to the grocery store . . . because the Companion's coming back for a visit!
3. I finally got my winter coats and sweaters.

Saturday: Oktoberfest
1. I ate a pickle on a stick and danced some polka.
2. I sang a rousing acapella duet rendition of an Eric Clapton song.
3. I went to a party and introduced myself to everyone as Gillian.

Sunday: Loafing
1. I recorded the last half of The Fast and the Furious on the DVR.
2. I'm still in my PJs.
3. I'm watching TLC's Sister Wives AND I CAN'T STOP.

Wolverine

I'm dying, guys.  It was a good weekend, but it might have been my last.

Friday night started out nicely with an excellently catered dinner party (sushi, skewers, wine).  But then . . . wait for it . . .  the Anchorage outdoor bar.  My first thought upon walking into the bar was "this reminds me of Houston!"  So naive.  This bar was a lot like one you'd find in Houston, except Houston would never be 44 degrees in mid-September.  Never!  I'd been drinking, so I didn't realize how cold I was until I got into bed that evening, tried to sleep, and then realized that hypothermia was setting in.  My mental functioning was slowed.  My muscles weren't working.  So I stumbled into the hall to turn up the heat, stumbled back into my room to layer on as much clothing as possible, and then stumbled into bed.  I was in for quite a shock the next morning when I woke up drenched in sweat and wearing two of everything.

On Saturday morning I went for a longish run on the coastal trail, which was great.  I'm including some pictures of the trail here, since I talk about it a lot but never managed to get pictures until a few days ago.

I spent the rest of Saturday running errands, tidying, and napping.  I was supposed to go on a pirate pub crawl that evening, but I wussed out.

Sunday (today) was hike day.  11 miles.  3500ft of elevation gain.  Ruins from a plane crash.  Fog.  Sheep.  Typical Alaskan beauty.  Me complaining a lot.  You know, the usual.  I'd kind of like a day off tomorrow to recover, but alas.  The plus side: our landlord found out where we'd hiked and was totally impressed, so maybe doing Wolverine Peak gives me some Alaskan street cred.  As the pictures below show, it was quite beautiful, and my co-hikers were a delight, as always (I wish I could say the same for myself).  I bet my kvetching kept away the bears.

Alaska is Terrifying.

As part of my job training today, I watched a presentation on outdoor safety that was entitled Alaska: If You're Not Really Careful, You're Going to Die.  OK that wasn't actually the title, but it should have been.  Why is that, you may ask?

Exhibit A: Bears.  Both black bears and grizzly bears have been known to fatally maul people, and they are everywhere.  On the trip to the lake this weekend, I saw two people openly carrying guns.  Yet, according to this article, only the .44 magnum is considered even "minimally effective" in the event of a bear attack (of the guns they test . . . rifles seem to work just fine).

Exhibit B: Moose.  Like bears, they get upset if you scare them or come between a cow and her young.  As many of you have heard me say, people in Anchorage have been stomped to death by moose.  Now, I still think this sounds mildly hilarious.  However.  It's a lot less hilarious now that I've seen moose in my front yard, and, even weirder, now that I've come across a baby moose (by herself!) in the middle of the trail when I was running this evening.

Exhibit C: Mudflats.  This one scares me the most, although death-by-mudflat seems really preventable, so it's probably the one I should worry about least.  Cook Inlet, which is the body of water right near my house, has a minimum of 37 feet of difference between high and low tide.  This is the second largest tidal difference in the United States.  When the tide is low, the mud packs, creating what appears to be a large beach that is really easy to walk on.  As the tide comes in, though, the mud becomes less packed, creating the equivalent of quick sand.  If a person were out on the mud when the tide came in, they could easily get trapped and then drown.  I'm preparing for nightmares this evening.

Exhibit D: Hypothermia.  Alaska has the highest fatality rate in the country with respect to canoeing and kayaking.  That's scary enough (see my last post for proof), but it's worse because these deaths are largely caused by hypothermia.  First, we learned that *even with a life vest* you've only got about 10-15 minutes in the water up here before you're dead.  But without a life vest, your muscles cramp up even faster and you drown.

I'm not fretting, though.  I work with people who have lots of outdoor experience, and I'm a naturally cautious person.  So I'll be trying my best not to do anything ridiculous. 

First Weekend

On Friday evening I had the pleasure of meeting and chatting with one of the delegates to the Alaska Constitutional Convention.  I talked about legislative intent with someone who actually knows what was intended.  Because he was there.  It's his intent!  My mind is still boggled.

On Saturday, I spent the afternoon at an outdoor beer tasting event.  While most of the beers were a little heavy on the hops for my liking, there was live music and a pleasingly hipster vibe.  And I hear that everyone can grow to love hops, so maybe I'm on my way there.

Then, on Sunday, the grande finale.  Eklutna Lake.  Hiking, canoeing, and s'mores.  What's not to love?  The leaves are changing here, so even the drive up was breathtakingly colorful. 

Once at the lake, we started with an easy hike, which was lovely but uneventful.  But then I took my turn on the canoe.  Big mistake.  Apparently I'm prone to canoe-induced meltdowns.  My fellow canoers and I had paddled for maybe five minutes when someone says "hey I bet we can make it to the foot of that mountain there."  To which I respond, "I don't want to do that."  "But we CAN make it, so we should," he counters.  Then, as if on cue, our vessel is rocked by a tsunami-like tidal wave (some people have suggested that this was not a "wave," but was in fact a "ripple."  Whatever.) 

"WE HAVE TO TURN BACK RIGHT NOW."

"Katherine are you crying?"

"I'M NOT CRYING I'M LAUGHING."

"It sounds like you're crying."

"I'm just experiencing extremely diminished marginal returns right now.  I mean really what's the point of canoeing longer than five minutes anyway?  And I'll have so much surplus when I make it back alive.  That's really all I'm trying to say."

So we went back.  Am I proud of this?  Maybe a little.  Was I laughing or crying?  Not sure.  Was it a wave or a ripple.  A wave.

Safely back on dry land, I practiced my rock-skipping and learned how to throw a football.  Then, once everyone was back in one place, we built a fire and made s'mores.

There are worse ways to spend a weekend.

Working Girl

Full disclosure: I had another post up for a while, but decided it was too pretentious, so I deleted it.  First, allow me to present the non-pretentious portions of that post:


Well I'm pooped.  But work starts tomorrow, so if I'm going to update, then it's time to get 'er done.


First, I was out of town this weekend to attend the wedding of a dear friend.  The wedding was beautiful, the couple was happy, and everything went off without a hitch.  It was, in a way, a perfect bookend for the next year.  I got to dress up, dance into the wee hours of the night, and see a lot of old friends.  But it was bittersweet.  It reminded me of how much I'll miss everyone, and I had to bid farewell to the Companion the next morning.

So, alone, I traveled back up to Alaska, this time by plane.  Alaska is, of course, beautiful even when viewed from the window of a run-of-the-mill flight.

OK that's it for that last post.  Since then, I have in fact started work, and have been settling in to my day-to-day life here.

My job and my co-workers all seem great.  But let's get down to brass tacks: how's my office?  Well, since you asked . . . it's awesome!  I have what people refer to as "Mad Men" furniture, my huge window overlooks the water, and we're close to the air force base, so I often see planes landing and taking off.  The train tracks run by, and there's an active harbor, so there is plenty of interesting stuff to see.  And, since this is Alaska and all, it's beautiful.

I've been running on the Tony Knowles Coastal Trail, which offers nice views of the water, the mountains, and, on the way back, of the Anchorage skyline.

As great as this has all been, though, I must admit that I'm already worried about the weather.  On the days where it's in the 50's and raining I am not a happy camper.  I'm trying to decide if I should buy a special lamp, a special alarm clock, or both.  Any suggestions?

I'll try to get more pics up sometime soon, but for now I have to go figure out what, if anything, I'm making for a pot luck tomorrow.

The Bear Witch Project

We took a day trip yesterday to the Kenai Peninsula for a long hike with glacier views, culminating in an ice field overlook (supposedly the only trail in the U.S. that leads to an ice field).

At the trail head, we see a sign warning about bears, how to respond if we see a bear, etc., and I point out that we don't have bear spray, bear bells, etc., so we're probably going to die.  The Companion is not amused.  About two miles in we see . . . bear poop.  I get all MacGyver on that poop: I hold my hand close to it, decide that it's cold, and that the bear is probably long gone.  But then . . . we notice that, at various points in the trail, the plant life on either side is crushed, as if, perhaps, a bear had crushed out of one side and into the other.  We start hypothesizing: maybe those spaces were made by heavy machinery used to maintain the trail.  Maybe a boulder rolled down the mountain.  Maybe there was a meteor shower.

As we continue up the mountain, the plant life becomes less dense, and I stop thinking that every sound from the bushes is the sound of my life coming to an end.  Eventually, the trail becomes a barren wasteland of rocks and fog, which is pretty neat, actually.  But once the thrill wears off, I realize that it is, in fact, really cold near an ice field, and that ice field better make its appearance stat.  After the Companion finally convinces me that I'd probably enjoy myself more if I stopped stomping up the path, we make it to the ice field/glacier, realize that it is still freezing, and head back down.

After a mile or so, we get back into bear country, but aren't feeling quite so nervous this time, especially once we pass the bear poop (still cold, in case you were wondering).  But then we see it.  We round a bend, with the Companion in front.  He freezes, a "holy crap" escaping his lips, alerting me to the news.  I look up, and there it is: a black bear, bolting away from us down the path.  For both of us, the first instinct is to freeze, hoping the bear will continue along its way, leaving us unnoticed and un-mauled.  But then we remember: make noise!  So we start sounding like two parents looking for their four year old in a game of hide and seek.  "OH WOW WAS THAT A BEAR?"  "YES IT WAS.  I WONDER WHERE IT WENT."  "I SURE HOPE IT WENT BACK INTO THE WOODS AWAY FROM US!" 

Needless to say, we made it out alive, and now I've gotten my first bear-while-hiking experience out of the way. Not bad for a Tuesday.

Alaska plates!

I finally (finally!) got my car registered in Alaska, and with it I got some Alaska license plates.  I want to post a picture, but I'm a paranoid lawyer, so I'm not going to.  Side note: in the process of registering the car, I had to make a call to a customer service representative.  I went *crazy* when she referred to Alaska as "outside of the United States."

The Companion is doing a great job at suggesting hikes out of my awesome hike book and we had dinner at the Bear Tooth Theatre, Pub, and Grill (http://www.beartooththeatre.net/ . . . it's a movie and dinner AT THE SAME TIME.  Heaven for lazy people.)

We're driving to the Kenai Peninsula tomorrow for another hike, so I hope to have more to share after that.

Anchorage

Well.  I'm here.  I've been a bit manic today: one minute I'm so excited, and in disbelief at how new and different and beautiful it is here, and the next minute I'm panicking about how cold it is already, how unfamiliar everything seems, and how crazy it is that this is actually happening.

The lows: it is cold.  Already.  It's already fall here, and I wish I had my warmer clothes.  Food is almost as expensive here as it was in NYC.  I worry that I will be lonely here this year.  I worry that I won't be good at my job.  I worry that it will be hard for me to keep in touch with the people I love.  I worry that I'll get sick of being outdoorsy and that I'll want to spend all winter watching TV and eating M&Ms.  It's 4hrs later in NYC and DC, and 3hrs later in Houston, making me feel cut off from the rest of the world.

The highs: it's beautiful.  After almost a week of towns with only a couple hundred people, Anchorage seems huge, yet it's surrounded by mountains and ocean (or inlet).  Decent Mexican food for dinner.  Met (and liked!) my future roommates at a fun bar with good beer.  I live in a cute house, in a cute neighborhood, within walking distance of work.

It seems, re-reading those lists, that my lows are mostly worries, whereas my highs are real things.  Good sign?

Ragin'

For a long time, the working title of this blog was "Putting the Rage in Anchorage."  I decided against this, though, because I didn't want people to think that I was angry all of the time.  However, while I might not be angry *all* of the time, I'm definitely angry *some* of the time, especially when I am, for example, cold.  Which, let's be honest, I'll probably be about 95% of the time next year.

I hit my head on a metal bar this morning (which the hotel had strategically placed right above a good luggage spot), and I then learned, while raging, that my road trip has been brewing some frustrations.  For example:

1. Why the HECK is it so cold here?  It's August, people.  Not November.  And stop raining, Canada.  Your trees look great.  They don't need anymore water.

2. When hotel employees answer the phone, they simply say "hello?"  And then I have to ask, "is this such-n-such hotel?"  And they always say "yes" in a tone that suggests "duh" and I think to myself: You're running a business here, buddy!!  The customer is always right and I am the customer so I am right AAAHH!!

3. I'm sick of eating the kind of food you have to eat while traveling.  That salmon was great, but everything else has been . . . fried.  I want Thai food.  Or good (actually good) pizza and a nice bottle of wine.  Or some Levain's cookies (http://www.levainbakery.com/).  Or Chuy's!  Chuy's = best TexMex ever (http://www.chuys.com/).

OK I think that's about it for now.  More raging throughout the year, I'm sure.

Stewart, B.C and Hyder, AK

First, allow me to introduce you to my new Subaru, which was purchased expressly to aid me in my Alaskan adventure.  As the Subaru is made for roughing it, I hope to feature it in a glamor-shot or two over the next year.

We left Houston, B.C. in the late morning, continuing along to Stewart, B.C. ("Where the Bears Are!") and its sister city Hyder, Alaska, (http://www.stewart-hyder.com/).  Immediately after turning left onto 37A, we learned that Stewart is indeed where the bears are, as we saw two roaming around on the side of the highway.  Having the first bear-sighting out of the way, we stopped at amazing Bear Glacier to take some pics of the Subaru in front of a natural wonder (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glacier; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bear_Glacier_Provincial_Park).

After checking in at our hotel, we drove over the border to Hyder, Alaska.  After breathing a sigh of relief to be back on American soil, we quickly realized that, at least in these parts, Canadians take much better care of their roads.  See above for a picture of a pothole so deep than an orange street cone rested comfortably inside of it.

In Hyder, we stopped at Fish Creek, a national park with a bear-viewing observation deck set up over a salmon-filled river.  Although we were met by a couple grumbling about waiting two hours and seeing nothing, we managed to catch two feeding bears (and snap some pictures of the less fortunate salmon in the area).

After making it past the least friendly custom's official I have ever encountered (although he was a bit of a Sam Harris look-alike, so that helped), we stopped for dinner at the Bitter Creek Cafe (http://bittercreek.homestead.com/), where I had my first salmon of the trip (and although my hopes were high, I was not disappointed).  My companion, perhaps regretting his dislike of seafood, opted for the fajitas.  They were, much to my surprise, not terrible.

Given that we had a kitchenette that evening, and given that it was 50 degrees and rainy (which, incidentally, is pretty common weather for Anchorage in the "spring" and "fall"), we stayed in that evening and made s'mores.  (And watched this, which is worth a viewing, in my opinion: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/My_Kid_Could_Paint_That.)

This morning, we once again left a bit late, although our timing was perfect: we saw eight bears (five of which were cubs!) on our drive to Dease Lake, B.C. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dease_Lake,_British_Columbia).  The roads leading here aren't too well-paved, and the landscape has become a bit more forlorn (and a bit less Jurassic Park . . . I swear they could have filmed that movie in some of the places we've seen), but I'm excited to eat dinner at the Tanzilla Pub tonight after a walk around Allan Lake.