The Nerf-ification of Alaska

Andrew, his friends and I headed to Denali last weekend. It was an amazing trip. It felt strange for a while, driving down heavily-wooded roads and over bubbly creeks. It reminded me of northern Minnesota. That was until we'd round a corner and mountains would pop into view.

All in all, no complaints about the trip. We stayed in a great hostel, were lucky to have some clear days and see Denali and chilled our beer in lovely Carlo Creek. Apart from leaving the LTD's lights on and needing a jump start, it went off without a hitch.

Of course I have some thoughts on the experience. Old people smell really bad. I've long tried to figure out what the odor is. I'm still not totally clear, I've narrowed it down to talcum powder or human decay. I don't think my grandparents smell that bad, but maybe it's when oldster odors combine that it gets to be truly unbearable.

On a particularly lengthy bus ride from the park's entrance to Savage River, Andrew and I were seated behind a pair of oldsters. It was like having stereo surround sound on everything the driver said. The woman, seen in the photo with the goofy hat, would repeat everything to her (what I've discerned to be El Salvadorian) friend.

The photo was captured while everyone on the bus was marveling at some sort of wildlife, if memory serves it was a grizzly bear.

I couldn't help but think that without the safety of the big green bus, these oldsters were probably done for. I guess they wouldn't have made it 12 miles from the park's entrance anyway, but nonetheless they seemed out of place and ill-equipped for any sort of wilderness coping.

Alaska is sold as a rugged, wild adventure. In fact, banners all around Anchorage bear the slogan, "Big, Wild Life." There was nothing wild about this bus ride and the encounter these elderly people had with nature. It was completely nerf-ified, down to the rest stop at the river. Don't get me wrong, I'm a huge fan of rest stops, it just didn't seem right. I had fully expected to have to pee in the woods. It was a foregone conclusion I'd braced myself for.

Turns out, the whole place was Nerf-ed out. We stopped for ice cream (my phenomenal idea) on the way back to the hostel. I clearly miscalculated the clientele and was surprised by the old people wearing name tags and capri pants crawling around the obviously recently-built "rustic" strip mall. I mean, the place had a Harley Davidson shop in it, how authentic is that?

I still haven't figured out what the true Alaska experience is. I know it's not what the Discovery Channel is hocking (I have ample access to food, medical care and Wal-Marts) but it's certainly not what Princess Cruises is selling either.

I guess like any good teenager (Alaska is pretty much the bratty tween of the United States, having joined the union a mere 50 years ago) the state is having a bit of a identity crisis. It doesn't seem to know what it really is, who really loves it and who is just exploiting it.