Driving through History
Sometimes history just jumps up and whomps you in the face when you take off on a trip. That’s what it did to me when JJ picked me up and we headed to
At the end of my driveway, we pulled onto the two-lane road called the
I’ve walked every inch of the first thirty miles of the fifty to
The inlet is named after Capt. James Cook, the renowned English explorer who met his death at the hands of Hawaiian warriors at
Two other British explorers who sailed with Cook have ties to
The highway loops around the end of the arm and heads for
Again with the history. In 1972
I was living in Girdwood, a small ski town located 35 miles from
The plane and its occupants were never seen again. The largest search in
Ironically, shortly after the plane disappeared, a well-known flying magazine circulated its latest issue containing a story written by pilot Don Jonz. It’s subject? How to fly 365 days a year in
Winds in the
I looked at the glacier now so far away. During my time In Girdwood, I once flew in a small ski-equipped plane to land on the glacier with a group of friends. Only after the plane took off and left us high on a snow-covered mass of ice did we discover how horrid the skiing conditions were. Imagine trying to ski through wet concrete.
We eventually made our way down by skiing in a switchback manner, poling our way through heavy, wet snow and falling often. Finally we reached the frozen lake below the face of
We left the lake and got back on the highway, drove through a short tunnel into
It’s a shared tunnel—motor vehicles and trains. And it’s only a single lane wide. All we had to do was pay our $12, get in line and wait for the green light.
And hope a train wasn't coming from the other direction.
Let the adventure begin.
(to be continued)