It took a while--and the average daily temperatures reaching 65-plus degrees--but we finally realized that we were wasting the best part of the year up here to do anything besides binge on Netflix. So we packed up Bertha and officially kicked off our summer by heading down to Anchorage for the Renaissance Faire. Faires are the one thing we try to do everywhere we go because that's just our brand of nerdy.
The drive down was...well, I'm trying to think of a word besides "stunning," but that about covers it. There were dense forested valleys and blue mountains still tipped with snow. We passed glaciers and plains and pine-rimmed swamps. We must have crossed the Nenana River at least three times.
Tangent: Names everywhere can be a little tricky. I think the most difficult names are found in the Old South--such as Natchitoches being pronounced NACK-ih-tosh--but Alaska runs a close second. Case in point: Tanana and Nenana. You'd think that they'd sound similar, right? Wrong. Tanana is TAH-nu-naw, with the first syllable sounding like the A in flat, and Nenana is NEE-NAH-nuh. And now back to your original program.
The trip took about 8 hours (because I drive my giant van slowly around hairpin curves and it is a major event when we all stop to pee) to get to our campsite, a small two-room cabin on the shores of Otter Lake. We hadn't originally planned to camp. However, since this is the time of year when Alaska isn't actively trying to kill people, the major cities (i.e. Anchorage) flood with tourists, and prices rise accordingly. I can't afford $400 a night to stay in a hotel, but I will certainly stuff my family in a cabin smaller than my living room if the price is right. $50 a night for walls between me and the bears, AND a plug to charge my phone? Shut up and take my money.
It was a great little cabin. The kids loved it. Rick got a wild hair and rented a rowboat. Again, the girls loved it. Once we managed to yell the kids to sleep around 11, I couldn't come up with any more reasonable objections, so we locked the sleepers in the cabin and rowed out, just the two of us. (For all of you judging, my kids sleep like rocks, the door was locked, and we stayed close to the shore. Get a grip. Bears were just as likely to eat them when we were all together.) Anyway, I could see why the girls loved being on the water. I took a turn rowing, and provided Rick with a couple minutes of amusement while I intentionally went in circles. It was so quiet on the water. It was a pretty awesome way to spend our anniversary.
It was neat to see the wildlife. There were a couple of eagles that lived by the lake. A goose family with a bunch of fuzzy goslings had breakfast next to us. We saw plenty of squirrels, a couple of swans, and also received a visit from a porcupine, though we unfortunately didn't get good pictures.
The next day we made a quick stop by the Anchorage Temple--which is the smallest temple I've ever seen, but still very pretty--and then off to the Three Barons Renaissance Faire! It was a home-grown fair, meaning that it existed solely because a bunch of enthusiasts and artisans decided to get together and dress up. It wasn't large, but it was fun. The food was overpriced, as always, and there were no jousts, but they had quests for the faire-goers to complete. If you visited the courts of the eponymous three barons, each baron would give you a quest to fulfill; upon completing all three, you were knighted in the final court you visited. Leah was Knighted in the Court of Dreams, which was modeled on the courts of Saladin, and Rick and Aeryn were Knighted in the Green court. I got to help stretch wool with several other women, which was a lot of fun and one heck of an arm workout. Claudia cried the whole time on my chest, which the ladies assured me only added to the authenticity of the moment.
There was this Chinese Unicorn (Kirin), and also a Blacksmith Unicorn wandering around, but I didn't get pictures of him.
Because every Renaissance Faire needs one.
Because Anchorage is by the sea, the temperature stays more temperate--it's warmer in the winter than where we are, but much colder in the summer. Our second night in the cabin it got so cold that we lit the woodstove. It was just about perfect, snuggling with a book, the kids unconscious and mostly silent in the other room. Rick is a master fire builder, which was great when I was freezing, but not so great around 2 a.m. when it was about 90 degrees in the cabin. I stumbled around trying to pry open windows so that some of the 40 degree evening could come in and make the rest of the night (I use the term loosely since moving to Alaska) more bearable. Still worth it.
The next day we headed home, having satisfied our cravings for Olive Garden and Arby's a couple of times (Fairbanks is big enough, but a little heavy on the Subways). Rick plunged into another work-week, and the girls and I took a midweek trip to the Tanana Valley Farmer's Market, which was frankly almost as big as the Faire had been. It was neat seeing all the local produce and crafts, including a woodworker's stall. He let each of the girls take a turn stripping bark with a drawknife and answered a ton of questions. It was hands down the highlight of the day. The bacon-chocolate crack was close, though, and the homemade marshmallows from local mallow came in third.
When Rick was free the following weekend, we ventured to the Large Animal Research Station (LARS) to visit the musk ox and reindeer. Here's your useless trivia for the day: Reindeer are just domesticated caribou. They're totally the same critter. It also turns out musk oxen are much smaller than you'd think--the big ones are four feet or less at the shoulder...which means their flipping adorable babies are about knee high. Leah got to braid musk ox hair, Echo got to eat new dirt, and Rick got to point out how caribou and musk ox nasal cavities heat up the air as they breathe it in. All in all, a good day.
The weekend before the solstice we went to the Midnight Sun Festival. To celebrate the longest day of the year, basically the entire population of Fairbanks and a good deal of the surrounding hill-people throw a twelve-hour block party. Well, it's only twelve hours officially, but the festivities kick off the night before with a midnight 10k and probably go on a bit after midnight the next day. Anywho, we took one of Aeryn's friends and ate wood-fired pizza and kettle corn, watched hula and silk dancers, listened to a rock cover band, and went to a petting zoo stocked with goats and Husky puppies, because that's how they do up here. Rick took a couple whacks at a van for charity. For the curious, there were two and a half official hours of night, and even less the further north you went.
What? Don't your street fairs have Tusken raiders?
The best petting zoo EVER.
The last adventure was Pioneer Park, which was pretty awesome. During the winter most of it is closed, but during the summer all of the shops and museums open up. Most of it is made of authentic log cabins built in the late 1800s and early 1900s that were relocated to the park. There's a train that circles the park and a legit steamboat, the S.S. Nenana, that you can tour. Aeryn wasn't terribly impressed--she thought it would be more luxurious than functional--but the other girls liked seeing the boiler and machinery that made it all work. There's also the Salmon Bake, a nightly all-you-can-eat prime rib and salmon meal; we haven't gone yet (much too good for children) but it has potential for date night.
There is still plenty to do. Golden Days and the local borough fair are coming up, the local Shakespeare troop is putting on King John, and a couple of touristy things still on our agenda. (Our antics are all technically educational, so that's a homeschool win.) All the daylight is frankly exhausting, but we are stuffing our summer as full as we can. The solstice is over, so that means one thing--we have begun the inexorable slide towards cold and darkness. In other words, winter is coming.
Carpe Solis!
Your Matilda comment was spot on.
ReplyDeleteFor that reason (plus your overall cool factor), I loved this post in its entirety.