View from Whittier, AKChapter 5. Anchorage Area
© Bert & Shari Frenz, 2002 All rights reserved.
View from Whittier, AK(Shari) We all needed the free day yesterday to recover from our fun in Nome. Now we
are ready to party again. Wally says I plan the weather just perfect. Bert mentions that
Whittier has over 310 days of clouds, rain or snow and today is just one of 55. Today is
gorgeous to say the least. We just have to stop for pictures along Turnagain Arm, now with
green mountainsides. And again after passing through the first tunnel to Whittier, Portage
Glacier begs for 35mm. In past years Whittier could only be reached via train traveling
through the tunnel built during World War II. Now, cars share the tunnel 
and the flow of traffic changes every half hour. I feel
excitement and apprehension both as we enter the cavern that goes right through the
mountain. We are to keep our headlights on and not follow the car in front of us too
closely. Wally is a good driver and we emerge from the tunnel in one piece. The vista we
see before us is out of a tour catalogue and I notice Pat snapping pictures madly.
Everyway she turns is another good view that needs capturing on film. Bert tracks a Gray
Jay and a Dipper, finding a nesting Bald Eagle instead, while Pat, David, Nancy and I shop
and eat the best fried halibut in all Alaska. Nancy and I find some neat little gifts for
our grandkids and help the local economy with our purchases. On the way back we have an
unexpected treat. The tide is just coming in and we actually see a bore tide. This is something Bert and I have tried to see each time we
have visited this area but have been disappointed. We see a wave of water quickly
approaching and when we realize what it is we ask Wally if he can stop. Wally quickly
turns left on a dime into the viewing area with David not far behind. What a thrill it is
to watch the churning wave as it rolls past us toward the end of the narrow bay. It has
been a splendid day.
(Shari) Unencumbered by male comments like "Hurry up," or "Why do you
want that?" or "No," Virginia and I enjoy three and a half hours browsing
the Saturday Market in downtown Anchorage. We walk up one
aisle and down another, stopping at every single booth to see what it has to offer. The
market is bigger than I have ever seen it before, with over 300 vendor booths selling
everything from produce, salmon, and jerky to artwork. Everywhere we look something is
going on: kids are getting their faces painted, a juggler entertains a group of teenagers,
and groups of people gather around local musicians playing guitar, dancing the hula,
entertaining with bagpipes or singing. It is times like this that I wish I had a house. I
find beautiful sculptures made from moose antlers that would have looked great on my
mantel in College Station. An eagle head carved out of amethyst almost parts me from my
money, but where can I display it in a motor home? I do find some presents for my daughter
and granddaughter though and do not leave the grounds empty handed. Plus, with all the
food vendors we succumb to the smells and buy breakfast tacos. During a "hen"
happy hour, we catch up on what others did with their day. Nancy and David went to some
museums, Jim went fishing but caught nothing, Pat had a nice long chat with her
granddaughter, Wally fixed things on his truck and Bert and his computer were one. All in
all we each did what we wanted and had a marvelous time at it.
(Shari) What a great sermon! Wally and Virginia accompany us to Central Lutheran Church
this morning and we are treated to a pastor (forgot his name) who must have acting lessons
since he does the whole sermon in character as Mathew, the tax collector. You know the
message is good when it creates later discussion and different meanings come out for
different people. The congregation is so friendly also and we meet many people we would
like to know better. One couple knows someone we know (remember Walt and Carla from our
Mexico travels?). What a small world! Later in the afternoon six of us go on an outing to
bird the mudflats. The only reason I go along is for the promised pizza and beer
afterwards. ;) We drive past Ship Creek and see "Combat fishing." Literally, standing shoulder to shoulder these fisher people,
hip or shoulder high in waders, throw their lines into a muddy shallow river awaiting a
hit from a salmon coming in with the tide. Even our fisherman, Jim, says they are nuts.
When we arrive at the birding spot, Wally and I take off and walk the path along the
shore. We walk about a mile, turn around, walk back, and find the birders discussing the
knobby knees of a yellowlegs. We continue to walk another mile and come back. The birders
are in the very same spot they were the last time. This time they are joined by another
couple that coincidently was in Nome the same days we were. As we go back to the car, we
meet another "friend" from Nome. This is a day of small worlds. Finally it is
pizza and beer time. We find a Pizza Hut not far from our home camp that has their Sunday
and Monday buffet. Good salad, lots of choices on pizza including a delicious cherry and
apple dessert one, good company, and of course great beer. Another great day in Alaska!
(Bert) With strong purposeful strides the pair of Bald Eagles wings across the marsh. I
knew from my 1998 visit that the eagles nested here, but so far have been unable to see
the nest this year. We keep our binoculars trained on the pair, hoping they will lead us
to the nest. They cross the marsh and then alight atop a spruce tree. Lining up my
spotting scope I can see one adult perched adjacent to a large crisscrossed pile of
branches and, in the nest, two eaglets trash anxiously. Behind the nest a steep slope is
capped by a road, so we head off in that direction. I find an overlook I've visited
before, but it does not overshadow the nest. Fortunately, another birding group sees us
and tells us about a footpath that leads to the nest. From this vantage point, hidden in
the trees, we have an eye level view of the nest only a 100 ft. ahead of us. I've seen
lots of eagle nests, but none from this advantageous perspective. The adult is busy tending one eaglet, while the
second eaglet clamors for attention, largely ignored, on the left. The eaglets are
three-fourths the height of the adult, but less than half the bulk, looking scrawny, dark
and mottled. Unlike the cute fluffy yellow Canada Goose chicks that we saw earlier in the
marsh, the eaglets look like gangly prepubescent kids that only a mother finds attractive.
The eaglet's bill, still trimmed in yellow skin, is outsized for the head. With jerky
motions, the bird leans forward, arches its back and unfolds scrawny wings that have
partially grown feathers, jagged with irregular growth. These wings are still too wimpy to
support flight, but like a wayward teenager, the eaglet seems anxious to leave home. The
eaglet continues to stretch and flap its wings as if exercising for a future flight. Only
once or twice does the adult pay attention to this offspring, being preoccupied with the
one whose view is blocked by her large body. The eagles act oblivious to us, intent on
carrying on their normal routine. If we can see them, I'm sure they can see us. Perhaps
they have become indifferent to observers; perhaps building a nest so close to a
subdivision of homes and an expressway have tamed them to human presence. But they are
indeed wild birds and our opportunity to spend twenty minutes attuned to observing their
private life in the wild is precious.
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