28 - Talkeetna
In Homer, Dickey told me all about the Alaska racing scene. He hadn't raced in years, but knew of the tracks. In fact, he still holds the track record in Kenai in his Chevy with the small block set back 11 inches and a custom rear-end that geared it down low for short-track racing. However, they weren't racing on Saturday and I couldn't make Fairbanks. I did make the Alaska Raceway Park for some Sunday afternoon drag-strip action.
What a blast!
The red hot-rod ran the quarter in under nine at 150+. They were hot cars, and I'm not even a drag racing fan. It was my first time at a strip (and probably last.)
I've now seen racing from NC to AK and more than a dozen places in between.
Headed toward Talkeetna, I came around a corner and saw this:
Denali, (The Great One) Mt. McKinley.,
It's majestic.
It's also only visible about 30% of the time. What luck!
What's that you wonder? That's right! A new pair of Wranglers!
My original plan was to replace my jeans every week or two, but I let these get so worn that I can honestly say I've held thicker newspapers. I've dropped a size or two since the trip began, so it's nice to have jeans that fit. It will be nice to not wear the same two synthetic shirts day-in and day-out. When I get back to the lower 48, I'll be tossing these in the trash for sure.
I made it to Talkeetna and the day just got better and better.
While setting up camp, an older couple decided to strike up a conversation. The guy was a walking comedy show. He gave me a chance to practice my routine. We sparred one-liners back and forth for a bit, and then they told me that the guy two spots over was also from Virginia.
Unfortunately, I realized that when breaking camp that morning, I'd left a tent pole behind. Ouch
After carving a replacement from a stick, it immediately snapped. I grabbed my axe and chopped down a small sapling and whittled the ends into a stake-like specifications.
It held for two days of rain, even though it looked ridiculous.
The guy next to me, Joe, was camped and traveling post-graduation, from Cincinnati. Next to him was Brent, from Lake Anna, Virginia. Not 50 miles from where I grew up in Charlottesville. Joe and I set out for a night of music and locals.
Brent was backpacking and staying in a tent the size of a sleeping bag and only 18 inches tall. No wonder he was so bummed that the hostel had no vacancy.
Later that night, we met a girl that worked at the Airport. After dark, she offered to hook us up with a flight the next afternoon, weather permitting. Turns out, the weather didn't cooperate and I left Talkeena without flying. But, she told us we should follow her to "Ride the Lightning."
What an experience! As we walked to the airport, she elaborated.
Joe opted out and headed home. We climbed the tower to the beacon.
I climbed at a safe, but brisk pace. About half way up, I heard her (names omitted as I'm sure her employers would frown on such activities,) quickly approaching. That told me that my pace, though cautious, was nowhere near as quick as her experienced pace. I got to the top, opened the hatch, and pulled myself through.
She stopped the beacon from turning as I climbed aboard. I sat atop the beacon as she released it, and I began turning round and round, riding the beacon as the spotlight illuminated the land below. It was surreal.
Seeing the dark landscape illuminated only by the beacon beneath me was an experience of a lifetime.
Wow.
This photo was taken the next morning.
As I Joe and I walked through town the next morning, disheartened by the weather that eclipsed an airplane ride, I looked up and saw my first bald eagle.
Talkeetna is a really cool town.
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