More Odds and Ends

Since I began this blog, I've tried to maintain some sort of order, rhyme and reason to the stories I've presented. There was many a time when I felt too tired or uninspired to put out a post but I did so anyhow because I didn't want to break the continuity of what had been started. Of late, we have been so incredibly busy living the story that there has been little time to re-tell it. Let me just say, in the ultimate cop out (and with tongue in cheek) - It's all Gary and Judy's fault! Actually, and in truth, it is to their credit that we have done so much and seen so much and learned so much- that there actually has not been ample time to write it all down. I know that by not keeping current I pay a personal price in letting some of the informational nuggets of the experience get away from me. Hopefully I'll recall them and contribute them as they crop up later. But for now, I know that I can only post these shorter and less organized recountings in catch up fashion. Much of our time with them has been in areas of the state where cell phone is unlikely and pc card for computer access is not possible. Waiting to post is the only alternative- besides which, I was having just too much fun to stop, go in, and write it all down.
What follows here, are some shots and comments I don't seem to think I can readily incorporate into the natural flow of what yet remains to be presented. So please accept these as items that made us stand up and take note, but which were not readily available to fit with what I know I yet need to put out there.

If you've been following the blog, you already know I like my signs! This one was at the entrance to a junk yard in Hope, AK. The No Trespassing portion of the sign is long gone, but the important part- the part about squirrel habitat- is preserved and in good order. Alaska has it's priorities! They are well founded.
I call this, The Alaskan Beverage Cooler. It's an old wash tub being filled non-stop by a gravity flow of ice cold mountain run off from a reservoir up stream of Al's cabin on the gold claim. More of Al later. I happened upon it while helping him pick up and set up some gold mining equipment- and to be honest I thought he left the water running! Well, actually he did, but that was all by design. The water flows in to cool his beverages and then, totally unharmed and unimpeded, flows back in to the run-off stream and on to the sea. Water doesn't get any colder than this, so this is about as energy efficient as you are ever gonna see.
Below is our gold wheel. Picked it up at the gold show in Rapid City, South Dakota on the way up. It is used to separate very fine gold from very heavy and fine black sand. It works good! The basic principle is that the gold is the heaviest or anything you feed into the wheel, so it continues up the spiral and into a small cup that catches it in the back of the wheel, while the rest of the material is washed out the front. For gold as fine as what we were finding at this location, it was a must. We used it to separate gold that had been "unrecovered" from concentrates that had been hanging around for a long time. We fed it in one tablespoon at a time until it was "cleaned."
The image of the black sand and gold being swirled around in the wheel is beautiful in and of its own right. You can see that the heavy black sand never makes it up to the gold recovery hole in the center of the wheel- but the gold does, no matter how small. Much of the gold recovered was the size of a grain of flour. No nuggets here!
Judy and Marilyn dry and clean the concentrates from the wheel processing. Nothing replaces human contact in the final process of recovering fine gold. Judy is a master!
This is Beluga Point along the Turnagain Arm. Come here to see the white Beluga whales on the incoming tide if you are lucky. The tide rips hard like the Colorado River on steroids even on a regular tide change. But on drain and high tides, the potential is for a "bore tide." The bore tide is a 6 inch to 6 foot high wall of water that comes in at 15 miles an hour when it occurs. Almost nothing has the time to get out of its way. For that reason, NEVER venture out on the flats of Turnagain. Many have drowned, trapped by the quicksand like flats and overcome by the rushing waters of the bore tide.
This is the newly built log cabin at Beer Bears. The carver and his father building the cabin surely know what they are doing. It will be a stunning cabin when completed. Here's a look at some of their wood working skills:


Abby's Big Bed! Dear Abby (our dog, not the column) usually sleeps on the floor on a rather unassuming mattress covered by a tropical print case. So when she found this giant pile of air bubble plastic on the floor of the shelter at the gold camp, she was just in hog heaven. She jumped all over it, spun to the left and spun to the right, then stand up, sit down fight fight fight- cheerleader kinda happy nap session coming right up!!
We (that is to say Marilyn) made a dessert for dinner one night out at gold camp. It's the Alaskan version of an old Maine classic- MOOSE TURD PIE. The story, for Alaska purposes, goes something like this: A guy who had no resources of his own kept coming to dinner at his friend's camp. At first they were happy to help him out. He ate their bacon and beans and always held that they were "good." But as the food pantry got drawn down to below acceptable staple levels, the food prepared for the guest was knocked down a notch to discourage him from sharing ever meal with them. Soon, they were serving their guest leftovers from long ago. Still, the appreciative guest always managed to compliment the chef, allowing as how the meal was always, "good." One day after draining all of their supplies, the hosts decided it was time to put an end to their guest's presence at dinner time, so they made a dessert out of "local material" that was designed to make him not so willing to come back to dinner again. So after eating what little was left in the pantry, the hosts presented their beautiful looking dessert. The guest, not familiar with this particular type of dessert inquired as to what it actually was. Not wanting to give away the secret until their guest had eaten his full, the hosts simply asked their guest, "What do you think it tastes like?"
To which their guest quite calmly replied," Well, it tastes like moose turd pie! Good though!" Click on the pic to enlarge the moose turd pie.

As hard as it may be to fathom, this is the home of Dolly Parton's Tour Bus driver. He's a neat old codger who helps out now on the gold claim and surely looks the part of the old time gold miner- even if he isn't! I like to call the picture : "No Man Lives Alone." While it's certainly a cabin for one, note how the space is shared with a big old spruce tree.
Gary told me early on that miners are a beaver's best friend. No doubt! Every settling pond we traveled by was inhabited by a family or two of beavers going merrily about their business, whether we were watching or not.
OOOOOooooops! The posterior of the coach hit the anterior of this cubic yard flower pot upon return to camp after a weekend at the Hope Mining claim. Only about a half inch of the coach nicked it, but that was all it took to knock it caddywampus. When I confessed to the crime at the campground office and asked what I could do to be helpful, they told me to "Hit it again." Turns out the flower boxes have been hit a lot and the management, if not the owners, would like to take them all out. Twenty minutes of cosmetic work on the coach and I was back like nothing ever happened. Can't say the same for the flower box though.

Flat Top

The last time I heard the name Flat Top was way back in high school when I stopped into the barber shop after school one night and Johnny the Barber gave me the newest "do" by the same name. You may recall, the barber combed all your hair up in one fell swoop with a comb that was about 8 inches wide, then he zipped across that with the trimming shears and, presto chango, a flat top, held in place with enough bear grease until you could get it trained to stay there permanently. I never much liked that cut, but I had one for a while and I'm sure the barber did well with it because it only took about 30 seconds per cut- and out the door. The point, if there is one, is that this mountain must surely have been named for that 60's haircut! Either that or something even more obvious like- it has a flat top. Anyway, Flat Top is the most climbed mountain in Alaska. It is not on most, and certainly would not have been on our list of things to see while in Anchorage if it had not been for our friends, guides and Alaska mentors, Gary and Judy. They called us first clear day we got, then hauled us up the mountain to take in the view. And what a view it is. Sun glistening behind the skyline of Anchorage way off in the distance and shimmering on the silt flats ahead of the possible bore tide on the Turnagain Arm. Cook's Inlet off still further in the distance, radiant in the later-in-the-day light. Distant mountains from green through gray and blue with glimpses of white snow accents remaining now midway into July. A chilling crisp wind to remind you where you are in case there was any doubt that THIS is Alaska, and some clouds with attitudes in case you might otherwise overlook them as some insignificant participant in the scape.
Now those of you who wrote in to say you like the piece on Mount Marathon, well, this is the mountain that Clint trains on to stay in shape for the even bigger mountains- he runs up and down this one a half dozen times or so- just because HE CAN! There was a sign on the fence of a property in Roatan, Honduras where we used to live. The sign read, more or less as though the guard dog was "speaking at ya", "I can make it to the gate in 6 seconds. Can you?" OK then. Take a look at this photo of Flat Top real good. Clint can run up it and back down in 26 minutes. Can you?????

Beautiful Downtown Anchorage

Anchorage is simply beautiful. It's a thoroughly modern city, but with the character and charm of a small town. You can get any service you need. From the airport, you can fly anywhere in the world- from fly in fishing trip to a local lake or stream to just about any international city. And don't worry, the runway is fenced so as to keep the moose out from in front of your plane as it takes off. No joke! Dress is casual if you want it to be, and most do, but there are also places to get dressed up and go dining and dancing if that's what you were hoping to find in Alaska. We do NOT fit into that last category, but we did get together with Gary and Judy for a cook-at-table side Japanese dinner at Kobe Steak House- very nice.
The visitor center is a classic log cabin with an earthen (sod) roof. What better place to plant your garden than on your roof where the moose can't eat your cabbage? There are downtown contests to "decorate this" just like I have talked about back home in Maine where we "did up" a lobster, and in tiny Talkeetna where they do moose. In Anchorage they do salmon. And why not? After all, Ship's Creek, runs right through the downtown and passed the Ulu factory and under a bridge with a restaurant on it where they serve a salmon bake fresher than you can get anywhere else in the world. If you had a mind to, you could park downtown in a parking garage, go to the furrier and buy a native stitched fur coat, eat a four course meal at a restaurant, shop for trinkets at the tourist traps, select a local made Ulu knife at the factory, ship freight from the shipping depot, watch the train leave town headed for Mount McKinley, then walk about one block in your hip waders, rod in hand, and fish for just about any kind of salmon that happens to be running at that time- and if you were good at time management, you could do it all in about an hour (well, OK, you'd have to eat pretty fast, but you get the idea).

The town was laid out by the military during a no-nonsense time in our history, so the long and narrow town is laid out in a grid. Streets run alphabetical one way and numerically in the other direction. A couple main roads have names, but they just tell you where the road goes. Guess where Seward Highway will take you....You could get lost if you tried hard enough I suppose, but even those of us who use a GPS to find a post office in town can get the hang of things after just a day or so. Anchorage is a "bowl." The bowl is bordered by mountains and sea. You want to go south, keep the mountains on your left. You want to go north, keep them on your right. You want to go east, head toward them; west, toward the sea. There is nowhere, nowhere in town I tell you, that you cannot see either the mountains or the sea.

Below, decorated salmon art: "Salmon Eggs"

Snapple....
'Salmonopoly"

Good information and nice gardens at the Visitor's Center.

Alaska Wildlife Photos

Along the Turnagain Arm on the Seward Highway near the town of Portage (outside of Anchorage) is an area of geographical distinction. You can tell as you drive by that something is very wrong here. The next two photos speak to that event. The same 1964 earthquake that severely damaged Anchorage and wiped out all of old Valdez and much of Seward, changed things forever here as well. Buildings, land, trees, everything here on the side of the tidal bay was LOWERED by about 8 feet. This created a marsh area where once Terra Firma had been present. The quake didn't knock the trees down, but as the soil was lowered, slowly but surely the salt water from the bay crept into the root systems of the Spruce trees and killed them off one by one. Many of them (and a handful of small buildings) are still standing and giving testament to the times. While the life in the trees is long gone, they still provide habitat for Alaskan wildlife, and so it is fitting that lands have been set aside in this area for a wildlife conservation area. One can drive through the region and expect to see plenty of the natives playing in their natural surroundings and maybe even posing for a picture or two. Here's a few of mine with just a few lines of comment:The old spruce trees and the surviving buildings, above and below, have all weathered to a soft gray, but are interesting against the fresh green of the marsh and the bluish tint of the mountains. Other than the glacial ice and snow, much of the mountain top snow has not melted, even though it is already mid-July. A Bald Eagle finds the salt water terminated spruce tree to be the perfect vantage point for resting while he keeps a sharp eye out for prey.
Bears love water; here's the evidence. Clicking on the photos to enlarge will greatly enhance the images.
This old grizzly was throwing balls of mud from the bottom of the lake up in the air, then jumping up to catch them before they could hit the water. He was a lot faster at doing that than I was at snapping the shutter on the digital camera, which is slow to begin with with. But it reminded me of "cannonballs." Run to the edge of the water, jump, tuck yourself into a ball and make as big a splash as you can. Note in the photo the large depression in the water as the bear falls back into it....all the while he kept an eye on me to make sure I was not up to any mischief of my own.
"Hey! What are you doing over there? Don't make me come over there!!!"
This moose was munching some alder trimmings along the edge of the pathway. We have seen many of them doing this along the way- even along crowded and busy roads. We have even seen some in downtown Anchorage, where they actually keep the airport runway fenced in to keep the moose and the wolf packs off of it.
Same moose, but with a bald eagle in the tree behind him in the distance.
Two young Grizzlies and a Magpie...
"Here, fishy, fishy...." The battle cry of my grouper fishing pals back in Florida. The prey here is salmon.

Light at the End of the Tunnel

Marilyn wanted to make a side trip, from our base in Anchorage, down to Portage and then over to Whittier. It wasn’t so much the destination that was calling to her as it was the trip itself, which involves traveling though North America’s longest highway/railroad tunnel, which runs dead straight through the mountain and under the glaciers for 2.5 miles. That girl just loves tunnels and caves. Me? I just don’t! So by my standards, that’s a long tunnel. Too long. But she’s the navigator and I’m just driving the bus (so to speak) so off we went. Yes, the tunnel is long. It’s also very dark. They have electric lighting in there, but if you were to turn off your headlights (as the list of rules clearly states you should not) it would be way too dark both for comfort and driving. It was even too dark for my taste WITH the headlights on. The tunnel is also only one lane wide. That single lane must be shared by vehicular travel east to west, west to east, and by a train that goes both ways. To accomplish this feat, a schedule is published telling which traffic will be traveling in which direction and when. The time blocks are in 15 minute allotments. Picture yourself driving along, instead of across, a railroad crossing and you will get the basic idea. Then plunge yourself into the dark to the extent that you know the bare granite sides of the tunnel are there, you just can’t see exactly where. Going through the tunnel at the wrong time in the wrong direction is simply not a good idea. I am hoping others read the schedule exactly as I do.
The whole way through, Marilyn kept saying, “Isn’t this cool?” I answered with, “Isn’t this dark?” But finally I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. “Light at the end of the tunnel” - an expression we freely use to refer to the end of a journey, be it through life, a traumatic time, an illness we are recuperating from that has taken way too long, or just a real tunnel. But when is light at the end of the tunnel NOT such a good thing? The answer is clearly this: when the light at the end of the tunnel is attached to a train that is about to enter the same one way, single lane tunnel I am traveling in the opposite direction! So well before we actually made it to the end of the tunnel, we both could clearly make out that was the case. We could also discern that the train was moving and moving forward and about to enter the tunnel. What schedule told us that would happen??? A video recorded, speed enforced limit of 25mph is the rule, but once we could see what was happening, I stepped that up by more than a little bit. Got out of the end of the tunnel and swerved left into my outside lane just as the train zipped by us and into the tunnel. Whew!
I was the last car through the tunnel in that time block in that direction. Later, I was assured that the train engineer knew “I’ll be coming around the mountain when I come, toot, toot,” but I was taking no chances. Shop owners recounted similar happenings to them, including one day when they shut the steel entrances to the tunnel while one of the shopkeepers was still trying to make it out. But all’s well that ends well, and the tunnel ended safely in both directions…and I’m happy about that. Got a decent story to boot! Toot Toot!
You can take a “virtual drive” through the tunnel by clicking on this link. Your virtual drive will be much better lighted than mine was!
Above and below, the entrance to North America's longest highway/railway tunnel from Portage to Whittier, Alaska.
The train entering the tunnel as we excited- photo taken of a moving train from and moving vehicle- no stopping allowed!
So how did they get the cruise ship through the tunnel???
The mountains and glaciers around the tunnel entrance and exit. There are dozens of them visible on either side.


Where the fresh water streams join the heavily silted glacial run off, you can get some very beautiful water patterns...

Good Service Along the Way

You may remember that back in May, our shower seat gave way and dropped me onto the floor of the shower stall - it wasn't a pretty picture! At the time we were between Banff and Jasper with no e mail capability and no phone service, so we made the conscious decision to let notifying the manufacturer of the coach or the shower seat ride until some later time. By the time we got around to taking care of that, the warranty period had officially passed. But not to worry! Newmar has a dealer rep in Anchorage, so from the road we called Karen's RV. We spoke to Jerry and he went to work to see what could be done on that and a repair on one of the fluorescent ceiling lights as well. In short order, he called back with some news. The light was ordered and should be available when we pulled into town. He made a call to Newmar to explain what had happened with the shower seat and they opted to extend the warranty period to the product as a courtesy to us. We really liked working with Jerry! There were a few e mails back and forth, several phone calls back and forth - he was pleasant, prompt to take care of business, and got everything done as planned- and saved us a pile of money to boot. You can't ask for more than that, especially since he fit us in so very promptly for the service we required.
Now that might not seem like a high interest post for a lot of you, but there is a point I wanted to make here. Full timing on the road, you hear complaint after complaint about service providers not working you in when you need service, or not returning calls or e mail, or not being cordial and easy, or even fun, to work with on things that need working on. Problems are going to arise. It's the nature of the beast. Maybe we have just been lucky so far, but we certainly have not found that to be the case. All along our route, whenever we needed service, parts, or information, we have received excellent service and consideration. In part, we know that this is just the way Newmar likes to provide service for their coach owners- they associate themselves with companies and individuals who understand there is work to be done- and getting it done quickly and cordially benefits everyone. We can also clearly see that there are a lot of good, hard working people in this country and if you treat them right, it comes back to you time and time again. In the picture below, that's Jerry on the right, already off to help out the next customer at Karen's RV in Anchorage.
I wanted to add a thank you to WingFoot - the Goodyear dealer in Anchorage, who took us right in to check out the wear on the tires at roughly the halfway point in the trip (mile wise, that is). Everything looked good to them- alignment right on, tire toe right on, wear normal at the 15,000 mile mark. Fast service, friendly service, VERY reasonably priced.

The pace of the new posts has slowed a bit right now. We are away from the computer and sometimes cell phone service as well while we are off exploring the area around Anchorage. But there's some good stuff coming, so check in often....

The Fourth of Alaska

The Fourth of Alaska

In the lower 48 this week, the nation celebrated the “Fourth of July.” While the day has the same official name here, the celebration is different to be sure. I’m no expert on this matter, but I keep my ear to the ground and I pick up on what’s going on pretty fast. Besides, some things are pretty obvious. Factoid number one is this: if you live in Alaska and you intend to wait until it gets dark to shoot off your fireworks, you will be waiting, give or take a month, until, well, let‘s see….……December!

Back home in Pennsylvania the family journeyed to the fireworks field in Wyomissing for fireworks that started near dark at about 8PM. In Alaska though, in July, 8 PM is no darker than 11 PM or 3 AM, so what’s the point of waiting til later? Most Alaskans describe their fireworks display as a bit trivialized by the round the clock daylight, so they invent more challenging and imaginative ways to have a little fun on this day of festivities.

They have a road race! It’s a 3Mile race for runners. If you’ve heard the rumors about Alaskan roads being a real challenge and a very rough terrain to navigate, you probably thought that referred to the highways. Not so- the highways are actually very good and better that the lower 48’s for the most part. This nasty reputation actually stems from the course on which Alaskans run- not drive. Not content to run like other runners elsewhere, like those, say, in the Boston Marathon, Alaskans choose to run vertically instead of horizontally. The run up, then they run down - mountains! They run where I cannot walk. They run where others climb, with ropes and pitons and other such paraphernalia that MIGHT keep them safe. The only safety equipment an Alaskan mountain runner uses is a pair of shorts and a wrap of duct tape around his or her ankles so they don’t run right out of their running shoes! I’ll describe what these runners look like in a bit….

But before they can hold a race, first a few things need to happen. For starters, everyone in the state needs to drive to the race site- for this day it was in Seward, about 129 miles (each way) from our camp base in Anchorage. Then a festival must be held with lots of sights to see and plenty to eat, with the focus clearly on popcorn (the biggest bags of it I have ever seen in my entire life) and fried halibut. Who knew they went well together? Not me. You can try to leave town without eating one or the other, but the odds that you can get away with that are slim. There must be some face painting, some charitable fund raising, and some healthy lifestyle demonstrations- all good things in my book. You absolutely, positively MUST have a parade- and to control the population of the entire state in attendance, you call on the MPs from the nearby military bases, who are only too happy to help out. People get along well with each other in Alaska, even in the biggest of crowds. This in and of itself is nice to be around! And in order that the parade shall be memorable, as in any town, there are fire trucks with sirens, Shriners (even if there is only one go-cart in town), cheer leaders and acrobats, beauty queens and celebrities, ATV’s with mud on them, children on pick up truck floats throwing candy to the onlookers, and believe it or not, an Orca (Killer Whale) Macy’s type balloon, scaled back just a bit in size to keep it manageable for the kids holding onto the strings. Wow! What a glorious parade.

After the parade, it’s officially time to race. The following is my best description of what I witnessed taking place:

The starter’s gun goes off and several hundred people (literally) run out of town and towards the base of the mountain (Marathon Mountain) on the “upskirts” if not the outskirts of Seward. While the mountain is named Marathon, the race is more like a sprint. The mountain rises 3022 feet above sea level…and since sea level is right there- this is a mighty impressive sight. As an onlooker positioned for the race at the bottom of the mountain, I declared the mission: impossible. Never-the-less all the runners dashed by us and immediately started running up that mountain. Like I said- not walking, not climbing, RUNNING. In a matter of minutes they disappeared in to the trees and did not emerge again until they came out above the tree line to run the second half of the climb to the summit. By the time, they have run that high on the mountain, even decent binoculars leave them looking like ants silhouetted against the sky. Any one who needed to know what’s actually going on in the race brought their telescope on a tri-pod…and they gave a few reports now and again, “So and so just passed three runners and is now in 284th place.” But annual fans of the race have just looked at their watches and taken a seat in the collapsible chair they brought with them. They know from experience that the leader pack of the race will be back running down the hill at a certain time…and that more or less 43 minutes after they disappeared into the trees, they will again emerge to run straight down the face of the now dry “waterfalls” at the bottom of the course, before heading back to the finish line in town.

Here’s my version (ain’t nothing scientific about it) of what let’s these runners stay on the face of the mountain on the way down, as opposed to launching like a hang glider without a kite. The mountain is too steep to run upright on the way down- not possible. Lean back at all and you will surely soil the back of those little running shorts! So a racer is actually nearly horizontal, leaning out and down (picture a ski jumper in mid air after he leaves the giant ski jump in the winter Olympics and you'll have the angle just about right). At this point, there are some very serious calculations that need to be made. Just how far should you lean out? Can your legs and feet carry the lower half of your body down the face of the mountain fast enough so that your upper body does not lurch forward into a fall- which would be truly disastrous. Will your footing be certain enough; one wrong step or a trip at any point would not be a good thing at all! On the way down, could you even stop or slow down if you wanted to….loose rocks, while there are plenty of them, and some mighty big ones at that did come rolling down the mountain, seemed to be the least of the racer’s potential problems.

But before the race results are handed down, a word about our friends, Gary and Judy Skaggs. Not too much for now, just enough to put things in perspective. We first met them in Montana on the “North to Alaska” phase of our journey. Nice folks. They were traveling HOME to Alaska at the time- we hit it off right away. They run an excavation company in Anchorage and they have worked a gold claim outside of Anchorage professionally (if that’s the right terminology) for 13 years. They not only offered to show us the ropes of gold prospecting, but have been acting as our behind the scenes tour guides since we arrived in town a couple days ago. We have seen Anchorage from the perspective of someone who lives, works, sleeps, eats and breathes Alaska on a daily basis. Their enthusiasm for this place is infectious and their insights have taught us things in short order that under ordinary circumstances we never would have learned at all. There is no tour on earth you can buy that is better than a friend sharing a part of their time and life with you. So when they suggested we come with them to Seward for the day, we were excited to see what it was all about. The salmon can wait- I hope.

The results? Skaggs’ son, Clint, races in this event every year. This year he finished in 6th place. What an achievement! His friend and arch rival took first and I think it is the 5th or 6th win in a row for him. Word is you might beat him to the top, but nobody can beat him coming back down. When the top racers, a pack of 15 or 20 or so came running back down into view, it was a hold-your-breath moment. That last hundred foot drop was literally a raging waterfall a few short weeks ago when the snow was melting on top of the mountain.

Here are the facts you need to think about to put this whole thing in perspective. It’s a 3MILE race. It goes from sea level to 3022 feet elevation and back down. The fastest runners make it to the top of this awesome course (from where the actual mountain climb begins) in 34 minutes…BUT THEY COME BACK DOWN IN 6 MINUTES!!!! If you get the idea they are actually FALLING back down the mountain, well, now you are starting to get the idea!

Clint was gracious and humble about our congratulating his race skills. In true Alaskan fashion, he simply said, “We’re Alaskan, we have to do something a little different on the Fourth of July.”
After a long, action packed and exciting day, we returned home to find our true Alaskan fireworks display…our wildflower bouquet which Marilyn had picked a few days ago had “exploded” and blown “fuzzies” all over the coach; looked like it was snowing in there. Like the man said, even the Fourth of July is a little different here.



Back at the start/finish line, the anticipation was growing for the craziest race you'll ever see anywhere.

Above: The race course. There are runners on the course, but even clicking on the photo to enlarge won't help you see them too well. That's one big mountain!
Below: The guys start up the lower part of the "waterfall" at the bottom of the course.

Judy and Gary with their amazingly athletic son Clint after the race. By any and all standards, he done good!
"Bombs bursting in air........"