One of the things I loved best about living in Anchorage was the sheer beauty of it – the 5000 foot peaks of the Chugach range jutting up out of the Inlet, the Inlet itself, the bore tides creating walls of water racing up the Inlet.
I remember driving south on the Seward Highway, and driving to a point where there was a huge rock beside the Inlet. There was a pull-off that could accommodate probably a dozen cars. Looking across the road there was a cliff. Looking up the cliff you were almost certain to see Mountain Goats or Dahl Sheep looking down at you.
During the spring there were always kids or lambs at the edge looking at the people while we looked back at them. Sooner or later an adult would come and push the babies away from the edge. “Don’t stare at the people. It’s not polite.”
I used to delight in crossing over to the big rock while the tide was out and find a niche to sit and look over the Inlet. The wind in that area is incredible. Sometimes I wondered if I needed pitons to hammer into place to hang onto. The wind could cut you to the bone during certain times of year because it felt so cold it was like an icy blade.
On good days you could see Beluga in the Inlet. On bad days, if you timed it right, at least you got to see the bore tide’s wall of water splashing up the Inlet.
Nowadays I wonder if they have put up wind turbines. I’m sure people would bitch and moan about interfering with the natural beauty, but there’s lots of land and lots of wind. I think the turbines I see in the Boston area are beautiful things. I don’t think it would take that many to completely power Anchorage, Eagle River and all the smaller communities all the way down to Kodiak, although Kodiak would need it’s own wind turbine since it isn’t connected to the mainland.
Of course we also have tidal generation, but I don’t think it makes much in the line of electricity. I never saw a tidal generator. I suspect they’re well under water.
I miss going out of town and getting into wild areas so fast. In New England there’s houses behind every tree. In Alaska you can leave the world behind by driving half an hour south of Anchorage.
I like water and mountains, goats and sheep, wind and waves, eagles flying high and Beluga swimming in and out of the Turnagain Arm.
The way global warming is going, by the time I’m an old, old lady Anchorage may be the new Riviera. Maybe then I’ll go home. Kick back in the sun. I wonder if the goats and sheep will still be there.