Wednesday, July 1, 2015
B1
Travelogue
‘Living vicariously through the adventures of our friends’
‘We were deep in the wilderness and had only ourselves to count on. Next time I see a windsurfer with a
fanny pack and five extra downhaul lines, instead of snickering, I’ll ask what part of Alaska they’re from.’
Katie Crafts is addicted to high latitudes:
Wanders and wonders in Antarctica and Alaska
By KATIE CRAFTS
For the News
“How much money do
you have?”
“Are you really asking
me how much money is in
my bank account?” I ask
the Canadian customs
agent, confused. “Yes. I
want to make sure that if
anything happens to you
while you’re in our coun-
try, you won’t be a burden
to our economy.”
And so it begins. I feel a
new grey hair sprout dur-
ing her short interrogation
of when my last paycheck
was and when my next one
might come. Four months
ago I had a stable job and a
home. Now I’m living in
my converted Toyota Ma-
trix with my dog. Alaska-
bound, with enough cloth-
ing in the “closet” to move,
should the whimsy strike.
What. Have. I. Done.
Antarctica pic:
This is Antarctica (lower
right). I visited two years
ago as a tourist, hoping it
would cure my polar fever.
Once there, surrounded by
calving glaciers, awkward
penguins, and breaching
humpbacks, the Polar Bug
bit. Hard. Fast forward a
year and I’ve sold my Hood
River home, quit my lucra-
tive job, and just returned
from 10 weeks as a bar-
tender on a Russian tourist
ship, the Akademik Ioffe.
My name is Katie, and I’m
addicted to high latitudes.
Boat pic (Photo by Pete
Biskind)
A couple hours after this
photo, we found ourselves
stuck on a sandbar. The
mountain-guide-men rigged
a three-to-one pulley system
and two of us hauled the
pulley rope while the other
two shook the boat free from
the fine silt. An hour later,
toes sufficiently numb, we
were released. Made it off
the river around midnight,
just in time for the endless
sun to, well, be high in the
sky.
This was one of many
lessons in Alaskan self-re-
liance; we were deep in the
wilderness and had only
ourselves to count on. Next
time I see a windsurfer with
a fanny pack and five extra
downhaul lines, instead of
snickering, I’ll ask what
part of Alaska they’re from.
We had to figure it out and
git ‘er done.
Alaska was a lesson in
learning new things, being
resourceful and self-reliant,
and trying on new lifestyles
THE VIEW of Talkeetna from a
1946 Aeronca, above. Also the
first entry in my student pilot
logbook (turns out taking a fly-
ing lesson is cheaper than book-
ing a scenic flight). At left:
Soup’s on! This Toyota Matrix
was a 20 cubic foot home for
me and my dog for our 2-month
adventure. In lieu of seats, I
built a raised bed platform and
a shelf in the back to separate
the “closet” from the “kitchen.”
Mollie-dog and I slept in rest
stops, grocery store parking lots,
and beautiful riverside roads
leading to glaciers. This photo
demonstrates the gourmet sin-
gle burner propane stove that
fueled our journey. The car was
sufficiently comfortable (though
it felt a bit small after five days
in an Alaskan downpour). The
only thing I truly missed was the
safety and stability that you
don’t get when you go to bed
wondering if tonight is the night
that you wake up to a cop or a
murderer or a hungry bear.
Photos by Katie Crafts
See KATIE, Page B12
Photo by Pete Biskind
“EVERY MAN’S DREAM” — according to one of the men. One
lady fishin’, one lady rowin’ us home to North Pole, near Fairbanks,
Alaska. A group of friends enjoying the endless evening. I’m the on
fishing.