Trip Reports - No place like Nome Do




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violist
Aug 19, 12, 8:15 pm
UA 560 IAD SEA 1345 1650 320 8B
was 1228 1510
was 3812 IAD EWR 1443 1609 ER4 4A
and 1462 EWR SEA 1735 2039 738 2F
1478 SEA ANC 2115 2351 738 2F
was 6010 IAD EWR 1450 1618 ER4 4A
and 1462 EWR SEA 1700 1959 738 2F
and 1132 SEA ANC 2055 2325 738 2F

My extra-miles-earning detour was derailed because of weather
and congestion (not mine, though I did have a bad cough),
and they put me on the nonstop, which was delayed - cost to
me, 500 miles and a first-class seat. So the best laid plans
of mice and men went awry, and I endured 6 hours in a middle
seat between a pouty brunette who would have been somewhat
attractive but for the .....iness written all over her face
and a jovial doctor working for the CDC. I chatted with him
for an hour, slept an hour, worked on the computer for a bit
over an hour, and otherwise stared at the ceiling.

It wasn't a bad flight, and the Economy Plus seats on the
United aircraft have as much room as the first class ones
on the Continental ones. Narrower though, so both my
seatmates bumped elbows with me; the aisle guy took it all
in stride, whereas the woman alternated between trying to
push my elbow off the rest (it was barely on, and almost all
in my territory, I swear) and cowering by the window.

We pulled up to the gate just shy of 2 hours late, and as
I had counted on lunch on my previous itinerary and had
failed to chow down, off I went to Anthony's, where Willapa
Bay oysters were kind of bland; the briny Penn Coves were
much more characterful. Still peckish, I ordered an
appetizer plate of fried oysters, where the Willapa Bays did
well as generic fried seafood. And on to the United Club,
where Jim Beam white served well as cough syrup.

The Anchorage flight was rather pleasant; they offered a
snack of chicken breast with pasta salad. I turned that
down, asking for a Courvoisier, of which there was none.
The matronly but pleasant FA offered Jim Black instead, but
I told her she'd broken my heart.

Halfway through the flight she came over with a Courvoisier
nabbed from coach, where they sell it for the equivalent of
$105 a fifth. She said that she hadn't wanted to break my
heart. The gesture was appreciated.

My friend Bill picked me up at the airport, and we spent a
couple of beer-laden days before meeting up with Lilli for
a couple of wine-tinged ones.

Lilli liked the company and the price of our Muldoon digs
but figured that it would be beyond troublesome to make it
to the train station early in the morning, so for the last
night before our adventure we decided to double up on a
hotel near downtown.

The Holiday Inn Express Anchorage is amidst a cluster of
cheap to midrange hotels on Spenard near the end, so there
was nothing interesting to eat. The jolly desk clerk said,
oh, it's free pie night at the Village Inn next door
(actually two doors down, past the Wendy's drive-thru), so
there we went. No beer (it seems to be patronized and
staffed largely with LDSs, and in retrospect the desk clerk
probably was one herself), a lot of prefab stuff on the menu
alternating with a lot of sweet stuff. As it is a mix and
match proposition, I ordered the 4-item breakfast available
all day, asking for pretty much all protein items. I tried
to get 2 burger patties, but the waiter regretfully pointed
out that the policy was to offer only one of each item. So
I got a 1/4 lb burger patty, which turned out about 6 oz of
hand-packed pretty decent ground meat, done brown through;
followed by a sizable sausage patty (cheap industrial); 2
slices of bacon (salty but ok); and a biscuit and gravy. On
the side, as it was only $1.65 extra, I got a small serving
of chicken-fried steak, which was your okay prefab thing,
one FDA-size serving. The gravy was extraordinarily salty
but did not taste bad.

Lilli had a burger, which was not as good as mine, partially
because it came with lettuce and tomato.

The free pie selection is limited: in addition to what we
ordered, there's cherry and one other similar selection. We
got apple and three-berry (blue, rasp, and boysen) to go, as
our portions had been sizable. Next day, the pies tasted
fairly decent: the chain advertises "best pies in America";
not so. In retrospect, I wish it had been free beer night.

The room itself was reasonably attractive, plenty of
amenities (the higher your status, it seems, the more junk
they put in your bathroom), larger than the standard, with
a bunch of dead space. Notably, the beds were different, one
being too hard, the other being just right. No worries, we
weren't going to be there much. We collapsed after dinner
and slept through to the alarms (we set 3 and also ordered a
wake-up call).

Breakfast - a wide array of breakfast breads; some fruit,
including the excellent pineapple that one seems to find
consistently in Alaska; okay sausage gravy; rubber eggs;
porridge; bacon. All decent quality, the giant Costco
muffins being exceptionally good. All under the watchful
eyes of stuffed animals and similar bric-a-brac.

It's a quick taxi ride to the train station, taking half the
time the hotel said it would, costing $5 less than it said.

Our guides beckoa, BOB W, and jackal had told us to be there
at 0715 for an 0815 departure on the Denali Star. We arrived
half an hour even before that - certain of these worthies
didn't get there until 0745 and were just fine, adding
insult to injury. Our group had the rear end of car E to
ourselves except for the last row, a group of tourists who
were suitably bemused by our rowdiness.

You aren't supposed to bring booze aboard, though you can
carry coolers on, ostensibly for food, and the generally
pretty jolly conductors sort of look the other way if you
aren't stupid or blatant about it.

Unofficial beverages in this car included Estancia Merlot
and the Kirkland Signature Cotes du Rhone; both were
unexceptionable. The official ones were the Woodbridge
Cabernet (not very good), Alaska amber, which ran out
early, and Alaska summer, which though less preferable also
ran out during the course of the trip, leaving some nasty
wheat beer as the alternative, plus the usual mass-market
swill. Twelve hours is a long time for the catering as well
as for the passengers to endure.

On this trip there was not much wildlife - just two bears
swimming across the river; good views of Denali, though,
especially from our car's domed area, which, as we were in
second class, was time rationed so as to give fair use to
all the other coach passengers.

Much of the train emptied out at Denali, but the esteemed
Seat2A joined us for the rest of the trip, regaling us with
edifying and amusing stories and a bottle of Russell's
Reserve Bourbon, which was much appreciated. After a good
long time, somewhat lubricated, we alighted in Fairbanks.


violist
Aug 24, 12, 9:45 am
Another Holiday Inn Express - looked about the same as
the other, with about the same view (a parking lot). Dumped
our stuff, showered, then it was off to the Midnight Sun
game, an annual solstice event. A few years ago, my baseball
hero Spaceman Lee pitched five here, earning a W and
becoming the oldest person ever to pitch in a game at
the professional level (if you can call this that).

The place was SRO packed; we found places with a busload of
8th and 9th graders from Michigan who were in Alaska on an
eco-awareness tour; these had adopted the Goldpanners as
their team and developed a number of cheers, of which one
shall forever remain in the hearts and ears of the Doers.
Oo-sa-sa-sa. Oo-sa-sa-sa. Hit 'em in the head with a big
kielbasa. Oo-sa-sa-sa. Oo-sa-sa-sa. Hit 'em in the head
with a rock! Unh! Such bloodthirsty words from such
otherwise mild-mannered children.

The outcome became pretty certain in the first when the
visiting Everett Merchants scored a run that was
nullified after a long and mysterious pause followed by
some ineffective sqwawking by the manager. It was a slow
game, not exceptionally well played - unlikely to be any
future stars on either of this season's squads -, and
eventually it got kind of cold and dark. Half of us left
early, but well after the singing of the Alaska Flag Song
at midnight, with the game well in hand, the home team
ahead 4-2 (it eventually won 7-5).

Sleeping in is good. Blackout curtains are good. Breakfast
was okay, almost identical to that of Anchorage, but the
automatic pancake machine was out of order, and there was
rubber sausage instead of band-aid bacon.

We piled into the van at 10 for a tour of Fairbanks, the
main highlight of which was the university campus, with its
Signers' Hall (where the state constitution was enacted in
1959, now the business office and an information booth) and
the rather interesting Museum of the North, which boasts
many works of Sydney Laurence as well as European and native
artists of the 19th century to the present. I particularly
enjoyed a shawl or wrap done with native designs and some
prints of wilderness scenes by Ansel Adams and followers.
An elaborate ceremonial necklace was nice as well, but I
wasn't so carried away by most of the art art. In the
natural history department is an eclectic, perhaps odd
agglomeration of old stuff, with an interesting display
about Blue Babe, the remains of a prehistoric ox found
somewhere in Alaska. I enjoyed the aurora show as well
(it seemed to have been made for PBS or someone similar,
quite a long time ago).

Our lunch destination was the Silver Gulch brewery outside
of town; this turned out to be closed until 4. Whistles
needing to be wet, near there is a spring with supposedly
the best water in that part of the state. Some of us
partook; I did not. A poll was taken regarding plan B for
lunch, and after tentative suggestions of Taco Time and the
Thai place it was agreed that we visit Big Daddy's, whose
BBQ was a decent deal and respectable enough.

Our part of the table ordered fatty brisket (I took the
fat and gave away the still sufficiently moist meat),
burnt ends (a mix of real ends and leftovers, which seems
to be the standard these days), and sausage, which was
fine, though the skin was tough. Others got sundry oddities,
and there was plenty of passing around, so everyone tasted
what they wanted. Lots of beer, too, and I had a lager from
Silver Gulch that tantalized with what might have been.

We got to the airport not too early, which was fine as there
is not an enormous amount to do there.

AS 190 FAI ANC 1755 1855 734 7AB

Back to the Express for an even shorter visit, and it was no
big deal that our room this time was more standard than the
last one. More alarms, but we managed to get up before them.

violist
Aug 25, 12, 9:29 pm
AS 151 ANC OTZ 0600 0731 734 21AB

The plan was to meet at the Boardroom at 5, so we took the
first shuttle at 0420 and were the first to arrive, giving
us ample time to admire the much-admired pancake machine and
the also-prized espresso machine. We could have gotten the
second shuttle at 0500, in retrospect.

It was a pleasant flight but not very rowdy, with us not all
in a bloc but rather interspersed with regular people. The
aircraft was a combi, the front part taken up with big cargo
containers, a somewhat truncated passenger cabin in back.
Access is by stairs to the rear door.

As there is but a 47 minute stop, we were discouraged from
deplaning at OTZ - Lilli and I would have done so anyway had
there not been some big guy sleeping in the aisle seat.

Turns out later that some of our party whom we hooked up
with in Nome had had trouble reemplaning in Kotzebue the
previous day because the TSA screener didn't recognize the
Global Entry card as a valid ID - one of the dangers of
using such newfangled technology, I guess.

AS 151 OTZ OME 0818 0901 734 21AB

This is a really short flight across part of the Chukchi
Sea and the Bering Land Bridge Preserve. There is supposed
to be cool scenery, but I didn't see it.

When we landed at tiny OME airport, sharp-eyed Lilli saw some
people outside the fence pointing and staring at our plane;
she figured there must not be much to do in Nome; actually,
the excited spectators were SeeYa and bdnyc, who had done
the trip the day before.

After some logistical figure-outs, jackal and BOB W
offered up a pair of vans to take us the mile or two to the
Aurora Inn, where there was a bit of a scrum for bed and
floor space, as the hotel was sold out. Lilli had oversold
her room, so I ended up on a rollaway, which though a
little lumpy ended up doing the job.

Breakfast at one of the supposedly better places to eat in
town, Airport Pizza, where about half of us obediently had
breakfast food, and the other half had pizza; my part of the
table feasted on pepperoni pizza and (once the twin issues
of no beer before 11 and the waitress being too young to
touch John Barleycorn were solved) Glacier bock. Some over
yonder experimented with the Greek pie - gyro meat, feta,
and tzatziki sauce, and by some miscalculation there
appeared two chicken alfredo ones. I did not receive any
reports on these, but the consensus from this tough, largely
east-coast crowd was that the only decent pizzas are from
[name your city], and these weren't close. I actually found
my couple slices enjoyable, but I have pizza so seldom that
nostalgia always plays a role in my attitude.

The day's excitement was multifold. After our meal, we
wandered about town a bit and then witnessed the annual
bank robbery, in which the Wells Fargo office is assaulted,
and Wyatt Earp saves the day. Followed by the Solstice polar
bear swim, participated in by uva185, CDKing, and beckoa and
cheered on gleefully by the rest of us. I splashed a few
square inches of myself with Bering Sea water and considered
that quite enough.

Then our expedition to Teller, said to be the westernmost
town in the United States reachable by ordinary auto, from
which one might on a specially clear day be able to see the
former Soviet Union, only this day it was misty and grayish.

BOB W and jackal were our fearless leaders again as we rode
through the tundra in search of scenery and wildlife; of the
former there was much, but of the latter next to none.
Teller itself is atmospheric in a spare sort of way, the
town dominated by a hill topped with a graveyard for people
plus one for late lamented Sno-Cats and Skidoos. I think
once in a lifetime will do it, though.

On the way we stopped to aid a family that had had a flat;
there were plenty of them, and we could not add much but
confusion to the proceedings. What we could do was give a
native mother and her adorable little baby a ride into town.

After two hours on a pitted, bumpy road, what do two dozen
hard-drinking FTMMers do? Make a beeline for a public toilet
is what. We found it in the Native Store, where some of the
merchandise was grossly expensive, whereas things that could
be trucked in unpadded and unrefrigerated tended to be
reasonably priced, no big surprise. We all got knickknacks,
candy bars, stuff like that, to make up for having clogged
the potty (it was actually kind of clogged anyway and was
in fact just a hole in the ground with a toilet seat).


violist
Aug 25, 12, 9:34 pm
We were chugging merrily along when our luck caught up
to us, and we got a flat of our own, about a day's walk
from town. And it was determined, after substantial effort
on our part, that the van's spare wouldn't fit! All the
prying and hammering that half a dozen able-bodied men
could do didn't change the fact that the wheel was totally
incompatible; we spent an hour and change dithering around
in the mosquito-ridden tundra, during which the sole came
off my shoe, only a modest tragedy as glue is cheap, and
various of us lost considerable amounts of blood to the
gigantic insects that swarmed us whenever the blest breeze
let up. All this time only one car came by; we negotiated
with its driver, a military woman who had driven her
teen-aged daughter to Teller to visit friends, to take the
relatively harmless-looking monitor back to Nome to get aid.

Eventually the jackal van came by and rescued us - we tried
its spare tire as well, and it too wouldn't fit, so we
doubled up on the seating, making a very cozy ride indeed
and abandoned the defective by the side of the road, where
it was eventually inspected and then presumably rescued by
a mechanic who was more than delighted to be called in, as
he was getting overtime.

Despite a short detour and delay for chasing down a trio of
musk oxen, our only wildlife sighting of the entire day, we
we actually made our dinner reservation at the Husky, which
despite its name is run by a family of I think Koreans. Its
menu is extensive, with a large selection of various Asian
things, a large selection of grilled things, and a large
selection of fried things, of which I had one of the cheaper
offerings, the halibut and chips (decent but by no means
stellar, and a rather modest portion) and a couple Alaska
ambers: $40.

Back to the Casa Bob suite for a wine tasting/guzzling.
Both a Bryan Carter blend and the Dunham Trutina 06
were fruit bombs and blew away the Columbia Red Willow
Cab 07, a wine of which I am fond, which must have gone
deaf or dumb or dead or something. bdnyc noted that on
the teevee there was a report of a fairly big earthquake
in Kamchatka (the nearest landmass west of us). As we
were in a two-story building overlooking the water, more
sensible people might have been concerned. We continued to
refill our glasses and kept an eye on the tube just in case.
After I'd tasted everything and after determining that we
were in no great danger of a tsunami, I sneaked into the
room and slipped into my cot without disturbing anyone (my
station being right by the door).

AS 151 OME ANC 0955 1123 734 21EF

Woke up and discovered everyone milling about in the lobby.
It seems a day in this burg was plenty for most of us - we
were ready to blow town in a hurry; but as we were down a
van, it took two trips to get us to the one-gate airport,
where check-in followed by security were expeditious, and
we were allowed to board the plane directly. A nothing
flight except that how in heck did I end up on the wrong
side of the plane?

After the short flight, we regrouped at the Boardroom
to get our transport assignments to the real Casa Bob.
Appropriately for a group of air geeks, all but two of us
had privileges, so no underhanded guesting procedures
were necessary.

A few of us went to Costco to help cater the party: we
came out with party trays of turkey-cheese rollups and
shrimp salad as well as a massive quantity of booze;
total, $150, a relative bargain considering Anchorage
prices. And then on to the bbq.

Alcohol figured prominently in the proceedings, but
almost all wine - little or no hard liquor, and but a
few growlers of Alaskan beer.

It was a pleasant - even warm - day, so most of us hung
out outdoors, but as if there's a mosquito in the
neighborhood it'll find me, I stayed mostly in the house.

beckoa had made an enormous batch of tasty kalbi ribs;
I understand there were also bbq pork ribs, but I didn't
have any. Lots and lots of food. As I had this cough,
SeeYa took my job of making the caprese, and I just
cruised through, dosing myself with abundant medication.
AKronin's significant other brought a colossal strawberry
and mandarin orange salad that unfortunately had a few
ingredients that I can't have. He brought the Centine 09
(Banfi) in the 5-liter size, which was pretty good,
actually.

The vinous star of the event was the Bookwalter Protagonist
07, with an honorable mention to a Stolpman Cabernet
(blend?). I was too befuddled by the end of the afternoon
to remember.

violist
Aug 27, 12, 8:09 am
Cabbed downtown to the Sheraton, where a pair of excellent
beds awaited. In the morning the Jade restaurant offered one
of the most delicious renditions of sausage gravy I have
ever had on the otherwise average (though abundant)
breakfast buffet.

My buddy Bill picked me up for a couple days of r&r; we saw
Lilli off at the airport and headed to Muldoon for more beer
and some good Alaska fare (no seafood, though - Bill fishes,
but neither he nor Connie eats the spoils, as they think it
tastes spoiled). At the end of this recuperatory visit, on
the way to the airport, I took the two of them to lunch at
the Peanut Farm, Anchorage's oldest and finest sports bar,
something like that. I had a relatively excellent halibut
and chips, an oddity being that one of the three pieces of
fish was not halibut but rather perhaps pollock. I had only
one Alaskan Amber here, as I had access to a free supply at
the terminal, where I was shortly deposited after the
appropriate goodbyes and hugs.

Contrary to the habits of most of my friends, I did not
pillage the Boardroom of all its beer and cheap wine but
rather had a sedate cup of soup and only one free Alaska
Amber (it's Alaska Amber according to the angels at the
Boardroom; it's AlaskaN Amber everywhere else on the
planet) before my flight.

UA1587 ANC SFO 1410 1950 738 2F Ch9:td:

Somehow I got 2F instead of the scenic and shady side 2A
I'd reserved, not a big deal as it was pretty overcast the
whole trip. The plane was full.

The audio had a weird 360-click metronome with the
occasional paradiddle, which improved most of the music
that was on offer. Interesting how much we listen to
clocks in at MM=120.

Something called Journey to the Mysterious Island, which
was the feature movie on about the last 5 flights. I forgot
to look it up on Rotten Tomatoes, but it appears to be the
most hackneyed and formulaic preteen adventure fantasy
possible, with permanent suspension of disbelief required
from about minute three on all the way to the credits.

The usual pasta salad with chicken breast was offered, so
I asked for Courvoisier, which the smiling and flirtatious
male attendant (who looked like Mr. Whitekeys) provided,
carefully warmed.

A bumpyish flight.

Though the boarding pass machine had spat out a warning
about landing in the Continental area in Terminal 1 and
having to take a bus to Terminal 3, we landed in the normal
place, and it was an easy stroll to the United Club, where
a glass of cheap red wine settled my stomach nicely.

UA 724 SFO IAD 2243 0653 763 2A Ch9:td: Empower^

The plane was packed.

My audio was on permanently full blast, so sleeping to the
dulcet tones of Channel 9 was out of the question, even if
Channel 9 had been offered, which it wasn't.

They offered another pasta salad with chicken breast, but
I just hid under my blanket (I was lucky and got one of
the old relatively sturdy United ones; my seatmate got a
thin Continental one and disgustedly stuffed it in the seat
pocket). With the aid of that wine at the club and a piece
of a Benadryl, I slept until an hour before landing, when a
smiling attendant gave me a cranberry scone, which had a
weird texture and somewhat unattractive taste, not her
fault of course. As with most transcontinentals, we landed
a bit early.

jzweighaft
Sep 11, 12, 5:58 am
Wow that sounds like an exciting trip (for better or for worse)! I hope that one day I'll be able to afford to attend this DO.

-J.

Flight405
Sep 12, 12, 10:33 am
Enjoyed your ramblings thru the tundra, violist. I must say you have got to have a cast-iron stomach!



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