Theo and the Arctic Ground Squirrel

 The morning we actually go into Denali National Park (meaning tall one--referring to the mountain which is 20,310 feet high and North America's highest peak), we're riding a school bus and are part of an official tour. For a price, we have a seat, a lunch and a window that we can look out of. There's a guide in front of the bus, who's visited Denali before, and a kind of television screen to the side that projects images from the outside. Our guide has a transmitter that helps him locate where the animals are.

That's why we're going to Denali. To see the animals. More specifically, Denali is home to 39 mammal species (red foxes, Arctic ground squirrels, marmots), 169 bird species (willow ptarmigans, golden eagles, ravens) 1 amphibian (wood frog) and the Big Five: Grizzly bears, wolves, caribou, Dall sheep, and moose.

The problem is Denali is a big place (6 million acres or approximately 7,408 miles) and the road we're traveling on (92 miles long), which twists and turns, which goes up and down, doesn't take you into the real interior of the park. To get there, you need to be a hiker and have a good map and days and days to spend tramping around. In the middle of almost nowhere. 

So, we'll spend the entire day driving around, hoping to see something, even though if you know anything about spotting wildlife, the best time to see them is early morning or early evening--not mid afternoon. 

Why a tour? Theo wants to know. Because private vehicles can ride into the park only so far. Tour busses can go in further. And, even though we wish we were, we're not professional hikers who can carry twenty pound back packs and use walking sticks. 

We lower our expectations. We're not going to come within two feet of a grizzly bear. We won't see any wolves. Anything we do see will be super far away. At this point I realize that's why those screens are here--to magnify what we can't see so we can see it. 

As I'm realizing all of this, Theo is eating his first snack of the day. He seems relatively unconcerned. I feel a bit devastated. 

BUT, Dan reminds me, we will see magnificent views. Scenery that is over the top. Awe inspiring. The day is beautiful--cool breezes, blue skies with lovely billowing clouds that drift past the mountain top, greenery, streams.

We spot a bird? Not sure what it is:

"Is this okay, Theo?" I whisper. "I mean . . ."

He gives me a withered look. "I can take it, see?"

And then we spot the smallest animal--the Arctic ground squirrel--but, gosh, they are cute. Imagine Theo--his face pressed up against the bus window--as the most adorable squirrels peek their heads out of their burrows and run around.

Our guide tells us that these burrowing rodents are known for their extreme hibernation. Their body temps drop below freezing. Their heart rates slow to a crawl. Which is why they can survive the harsh Arctic winters. They eat plants, seeds, insects and other small animals.

Be grateful, I tell myself. No. Arctic ground squirrels are not a moose or a wolf, but they are animals. 

Theo, surprisingly, takes another view. He's enthralled. He crouches down, with his eyes just above the bottom of the window. Stalking posture. Ready to pounce at any second. If the bus window wasn't there.

Theo Eats at Moose-Akas in Denali

 I blame myself. I've wanted to visit Denali National Park since I was a kid and now finally we're going. I've been talking about it and dreaming about it--the beautiful scenery and the animals we're going to see. Theo listens to every word, salivating at the mere mention of a wilderness area where animals abound . . . or so we both think.

In a nutshell, Denali is all and nothing like I think it's going to be. 

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Denali is not like your neighborhood park. You cannot just decide one day to go for a walk, put on your sneakers and you're there. It's an experience that takes planning and lots of traveling.  

First, it's the getting there (when you're inAlaska) which includes the traveling by road, awe-struck by the magnificent scenery (and we're not even in the park yet.)

And the deciding to stay at the premier resort--the Grande Denali Lodge, which is all part of the experience.

And deciding to hike around a bit outside the park:

And then deciding to eat our first dinner at Moose-Akas, a quirky restaurant, named by weirdly combining Moose (because we're in Alaska) and Moussaka (a famous Mediterranean lasagne-type dish made with eggplant and meat). 

 The chef, Michael Waring, was born in Guam but learned to cook in Serbia. His assistant Maya (his chief operator) and Nicki (part waitress and storyteller) make up the team. We arrive, and they all introduce themselves as if they're distant relatives and we're coming to their house for dinner.

That's the atmosphere. Theo wants to know why there's a bicycle hanging from the ceiling inside? I want to know why there are  grapes hanging from the ceiling in the outside terrace? It is an eclectic place with references to Serbian culture.

 Michael comes out and explains the menu himself. Dan orders the moussaka (made with potaoes not eggplant) and I order the Sarma (stuffed cabbage that is heads and tails above the usual Greek or Polish version.) For appetizers, we order the mixed platter which includes a salad made with potatoes, carrots, peas and pickles.

The food is delicious. The portions are bigger than usual. The prices are reasonable. You make reservations by email (weeks in advance) and basically have to accept the time allotted to you--only a few groups of people at a time. During the meal, Michael comes out and talks about the food--his inspiration for creating each dish, his mentorship with Maya's Serbian grandmother.

Gosh. He doesn't even seem to mind Theo who is basically sniffing the entire place, as if he's making a plan in his head to recreate it when he gets home. He also wanders over and nibbles at our dinner. Do cats like moussaka? Theo, the gangster cat, seems to. And he really likes the ice cream for dessert.

The restaurant is about three miles from the Lodge. We finish later than the hours posted for the shuttle but a wonderful older guy (who works at the lodge) in a tiny van arrives when we finish eating and takes us back to the lodge. He tells us his life story and spends most of the ride convincing us that a heated garage is the most important thing when buying a house in Alaska. 

We haven't even made it into the park yet so stay tuned.

Theo Visits a Railroad Museum

 Most people know that Alaska is a sparsely populated state. You can ride for miles and see more tractors than people. 

After we leave Fairbanks, we decide to stop in Nenana, a small town with about one thousand people total. Its claim to fame: it can offer a "remote experience" and, of course, a railroad museum that focuses on the history of Alaskan railroad.

Nenana's Main Street has a few houses, a grocery store that looks more like a larger than average convenience store and the railroad museum. In the day that's how people came to and left this town--by railroad. In fact, this museum, is a used to be depot.

How do you explain a place like this to Theo? The town sits on the Nenana River (considered to be the interior of Alaska). No animals. Only plenty of opportunities to sniff the bygone past. That's why I want to be here. I love history. I love imagining how life used to be a hundred or more years ago. Theo . . . not so much. 

We hightail it over to the museum, a small green planked building with white trim. As you might expect as you walk through the doors, you're immediately transported to a world that doesn't exist anymore. A bustling railroad depot has been preserved for the few tourists that wander in. 

"Theo, imagine. There used to be scores of people coming in with their luggage. You bought your ticket here for the train . . ."

For a second Theo looks more interested than he should be. He seems to think that's why we're here now. To buy a ticket and leave. To get out of town.

"Of course, the depot is a museum now." 

His momentary excitement fades.

Quickly I reframe the experience. "But there's plenty to sniff, and then we'll get you some snacks."

 I put him down and let him wander around. 

There's a ticket window. An office area behind wider than wide bars with desks and an old fashioned typewriter. 

And there's a museum.

Theo is in the corner sniffing whatever. Dan and I go into the back "museum space." It's what you would expect--old newspaper stories preserved on the wall, photos of life the way it used to be--snow sleds being pulled by dogs.

We come back to the front and casually I look around. Theo has got to be somewhere. But he seems to have completely disappeared. I don't panic. I've learned my lesson. In fact, I think with a small laugh, maybe he did buy a ticket and is sitting on some imaginary train outside on the tracks. 

Dan spots him first. He's jumped up on the ticket counter desk. Not buying a ticket. Oh, no. He's sniffing the small cubbies . . . we grab him.

"Time for snacks."

Finally, we wander over to the "grocery store" for the snacks.

Could I have ever lived in a town like this? It's quaint but so isolated. 

But, later as we're leaving I begin to glimpse the town's allure. The scenery is striking. The quiet is profound (except for Theo smacking his lips.)  And I begin to understand how someone could live here.  

Theo, on the other hand, has a more than serious look on his face. "Where to next?" he wants to know.

Denali National Park. And animals. Yippee!!!

Theo and The Fake Real Alaska

 Dare I say it? After our last "museum" experience, Theo has become, more or less, a fan. If the museum has animals, any kind of animals, he's all in. At least today, that's his story!

We try to explain. We're still in Fairbanks, Alaska, and want to visit The Morris Thompson Center--which has world class exhibits.

I'm in awe. Who doesn't want to see a bald eagle up close and personal that looks alive but isn't? The fake real.

Then there's a bear that is staring at us--only a few feet away. Not real, but he looks real. Another fake real.

We walk along, agog at the exhibits. 

"Well, Theo, what do you think?"

Of course, he's too busy sniffing and staring to respond. He would love to jump into the exhibit and check it out. Are they real? Fake? Gosh.

We move on. To the clothing exhibits. Frankly, this is where Theo gets his snack as we marvel at the colorful, intricate clothing. Now this is authentic and begs the question--what was it like to live in Alaska, in frigid temperatures, surrounded by snow and ice, with no central heating?

The next few exhibits show an Alaska that few see:

We save the most interesting until last. Outside, as we're leaving, we spot an arch made of 100 moose and caribou antlers called "Farthest North Antler Arch." The antlers were donated by local hunters and farmers to represent the region's hunting history and culture. The arch was built in 2010.

I've wanted to visit Alaska for a long time. "Can you believe this?" I say to Dan and Theo.

We step closer, to examine the antlers more closely and to, of course, give Theo a chance to sniff. And sniff. And sniff. 

"This is real, mom." And so it goes.

Theo and Animals of a Different Kind

 If you're a regular follower of Hot Blogging with Chuck, you know all about Theo. This gangster cat loves snacks, animals and sniffing everything. We know this, too, and are not above using schemes to lure Theo where we want him to go.

I say the word "museum," and Theo shakes his head. I say the word "animal" and Theo agrees.

We visit the Museum of the North in Fairbanks, Alaska. This place is amazing for not having one live animal on the premises. But if you want an encapsulated view of Alaska and all its wildlife, this is the place to dip your toe in. Theo is in his glory . . .

First, we see the Alaskan dinosaur. Of course, all we have are the bones, but it is enough to show you how big they were . . . back in the day.

We're impressed  but then we see the dinosaur of all dinosaurs. Notice Dan on the side to see how big this dinosaur really is:

Then we have (and this is just a sampling) of some of the animals who live in Alaska. Stuffed animals. Which is cool because you can get really close and see them.

This museum goes one step further and showcases gigantic displays of sandpipers in their native habitat. All re-creations, of course, but they're magnificent.

There's a display of water animals: ducks, geese and swans and an entire slew of animals I've never heard of, part of the same family:

Finally we stumble upon some teeth of Ice-Age mammals. We immediately think of the Gold Sisters and the hundreds of pre-historic artifacts they uncovered and displayed in the geodesic dome on regular shelves. This museum has two sets of teeth only. Still the size is impressive compared to human teeth. 

Theo looks up at me. 

"Yes, you can sniff them." 

Keep in mind this is a ten minute operation as he sniffs and sniffs. If cats could smile, his would be a mile wide. 

Usually I'm telling him: "Think of this like watching TV." He loves to jump up and perch in front of the TV, watching it up close and personal--especially anything to do with nature. This time there's no glass to separate him from the teeth.

Okay, so we continue through the museum and I can't resist capturing the kayak that Alaskans use to go seal hunting. It is bigger than you imagine. 

Theo asks, "Where are the animals?"

"One track mind," I think but don't say.

 Finally, we reach the clothing exhibits. How do you dress to stay warm in frigid temperatures, especially before there was central heating--parkas and boots and hoods. 

 

Again, "Where are the animals?" Theo meows.

Again, I shake my head in disbelief.

"Well, what do you think, Theo? Did you like it?" We're back where we started, near the entrance, about to leave. 

Theo has one request. He wants to see the . . . I expect he'll say dinosaurs or that lovely stuffed eagle that we saw . . . but, no, he wants to see the sandpiper exhibit. Again. Go figure.