Chicken Run!

Here’s another short blog about some of our activities out in Chicken to give people an idea of what the heck it is we do out there when we’re “off the grid.” This blog was from our second winter trip in April of 2018, when we still had 2-3 feet of snow. Don’t worry DK, by the time your character gets there in June, the temperatures will be hitting 80-90, and the sun will be barely going down at night.

 

The cabin in Chicken, AK

 

We made it back from another trip to the cabin in Chicken, Alaska.  Not as cold as our last trip, getting down around zero at night, but sometimes hitting 35 or 40 degrees during the day.  Still quite a bit of snow, though it has melted down and is pretty compact now.  We were able to snow shoe in much easier this time, not sinking up to our hips in soft snow in 0-degree weather.  Unplugging once more, and spending my days reading and writing felt really good.

Breaking up the snow for water

But it is not all fun and leisure, we do have chores when we are out on the land.  Our biggest is stock piling/melting water.  Not only to drink, but to store for later in the summer for our plants.  Ray cuts up wood, so we can keep the fire going in our wood stove.  I spent lots of time, knee deep in ice and snow with a pick axe and shovel, loading corn snow into barrels for later in the spring when we won’t see a drop of rain in the arid region, with the exception of the occasional afternoon thunderstorm.  If we have to, we can get water from the RV Park in the “Town of Chicken,” but it is best to stock pile as much as we can from the snow melt in large 55-gallon barrels.

Floundering in the snow.

What are we watering?  Every year we bring hundreds of small ground cover plants and trees to resupply the barren landscape.  In 2004, 6.2 million acres of Alaska burned, the size of Vermont.  The largest of the fires was the Taylor Complex fire near our land.  That fire alone was 1.3 million acres.  The department of forestry had no choice but to drop flame retardant chemical on the few historical buildings and communities in the very remote region, then let the rest of the Yukon and Forty-mile area go up in flames.  What was left in the end was a standing dead forest that you can see in the background of my pictures.  It was even worse when I first came out to Chicken with my then boyfriend (now husband) ten years ago.  You didn’t dare wear white socks or light-colored pants.  You would be throwing them away later from the charcoal stains.

My husband Ray, and My father-in-law Shep, standing near one of our few big trees. You can see the ground cover we have gotten to come back in the foreground.

Now that we are ten years in and have a cabin built, we have been slowly coaxing the boreal forest back to life, planting native trees and encouraging ground cover to come back.  But we always try to get out to the cabin as early as we can in the season to stock pile water.

I will be re-posting my blog about the colorful characters in Chicken, featuring the famous Toad next.

Off the Grid

sign at Tetlin Junction, Alaska Travel Taylor Highway, DM Shepard

In support of the upcoming collaboration between myself and DK, I have decided to repost some of my older blog posts about the cabin in Chicken to give people context about the area. This was one of my first blogs about driving out to Chicken. Ray and I will be making our first “Chicken Run” of the year in two weeks. In contrast to last year, when we saw temperatures of -20 and 4 feet of snow at the cabin the weather looks like it is going to be warm (in the 30’s) and around two feet of snow according to the snow depth maps. I will definitely keep you posted as to what we find.

The cabin at night.

As we make the turn off the ALCAN at Tetlin Junction onto the Taylor Highway, I look over at Ray in the driver’s seat of our Subaru and ask, “So, how many do you think we will see?”

Keeping his gaze focused on the winding, chip sealed road, he drums his fingers against the steering wheel for a moment then makes his wager, “”I’m going to bet 2.”

“I’m going to bet 1,” I reply, as I settle back into my seat.  It’s almost 10 o’clock at night, but the light is just beginning to fade in the land of the midnight sun.  Though it is technically well into spring, the snow is barely melted in this region, and the tourists won’t really begin to show up for another month or so.  Our cabins is a seven hour drive from Anchorage, and we are on the final, lonely stretch.

Taylor Highway Closed

We always make this bet as we turn onto the Taylor Highway, leaving behind the remnants of civilization. Cell phone signals dropped out several miles back, when we passed the Weigh Station about ten miles east of Tok.  Radio Stations? Forget about it.  Too many mountains.  Utility power?  Nope, maybe someday we will put in solar, but only if we can get batteries that are rated down to -70, which this region is known for reaching those temperatures during the winter months.

View from our fire pit. Current temp, about 5 degrees.
Travel Beyond This Point Not Recommended

Here lately you see so many people crowing about how they turn off their cell phones for the night, or maybe for a whole hour for dinner. When we go to our cabin, we are completely off the grid, sometimes for a week or more if we can pull it off. My cell phone becomes nothing more than an expensive camera/clock. Sometimes in the summers, we will bring along a small, portable generator to make ice or run power tools for construction projects, but most of the time we leave it off.  We like the quiet.  The ability to focus and be in touch with our thoughts is what draws us to our cabin and our land.  The guests we bring out to visit love it as well.

We reluctantly bought a satellite phone for emergencies last year.  Mostly because of the aforementioned bet.  It is not uncommon during certain seasons to go a day or more without seeing a single car. If your vehicle breaks down, or you have some other emergency, it can be a long wait or walk back to safety. From October 16-April 1, the road is not maintained, so it is use at your own risk.

Some people are intrigued by the idea of going out into the wilderness the way we do.  Some are appalled.

“What if something happens?  Aren’t you scared?”

My response is that we plan our trips appropriately. We tell people where we are going, and when we will be back.  We don’t take unnecessary risks.  We always keep in mind, that while the back country of Alaska is beautiful, it is at the same time highly unforgiving.

So far, the risks have been well worth the rewards.