Alaskan Odyssey

'Be careful, there are bears'.

Two Dutch hikers pointed in the direction we were walking down the wide Alaskan road that cut through thick temperate rainforest.

'Black bears. A mother & two cubs. She's digging for grubs under a tree on the side of the road'.

We thanked them & wished them luck on the 53km Chilkoot Trail that begun here in Dyea, Alaska. My mum's eyes were wide with alarm. My dad, in contrast, took their warning as an invitation to power-walk as quickly as he could in the bears' direction.

'Dad, we really don't want to accidentally get between the mum & her cubs'.

My dad answered me by turning around, smiling cheerfully & lurching on with enthusiasm rarely seen in someone who's about to be mauled.

I was 18 & I'd just moved from Australia to Whitehorse, Canada. It was my first taste of independent travel, freedom & grown-up rebellion. Within a month, my parents came to visit.

And here, in Alaska my Dad was already out-adventuring me. We walked & found the upturned tree, but the bears had moved on. Like my dad, I was strangely disappointed there'd be no headline announcing 'Ill-prepared Aussies bearly survive mauling in remote Alaska'.

The following day, my mum & I opted to use bikes the Chilkoot Trail Outpost makes available for travellers. At nearly 6' tall, I chose a full-size men's bike. My dad, with his long strides, chose to walk.

From the river, we spotted Davidson glacier nestled in the valley of a mountain range.

In the chilled air of the forest we found ruins of the town that had thrived during the Klondike Gold-rush, when the Chilkoot trail was a major access route. My parents & I walked through the forest, reading the cemetery gravestones that had cracked & crumbled from neglect & exposure.

Returning along the road where we'd almost seen the bears, my mum asked if we could swap bikes. My dad & I paused by the side of the road while she maneuvered herself. For a frozen moment in time, she sat on the bike seat & her legs dangled helplessly on either side, unable to touch the ground. A look of panic spread across her face as the bike tipped gracefully to one side, spilling her into a roadside ditch carpeted with rainforest ferns. We laughed until we cried.

The town of Dyea once thrived but was quickly abandoned. The Davidson glacier is classified as retreating & will, one day, disappear. My dad has since passed away.

In Dyea, we got a taste of ephemeral wildness. It's something I'll always treasure.