Last night’s episode of Cosmos was all about climate change, with a few references to Alaska.  I highly recommend watching it.  You can stream it for free – legally – here:

http://www.cosmosontv.com/watch/270803523723

Our Alaskan adventure was filled with daily surprises, and one that excited me the most was our visit to the Chatanika Gold Dredge.  Located east of Fairbanks on the way to Poker Flats, Gold Dredge #3 (as it was originally called) sits abandoned on a small lake just off the Steese Highway across from the Chatanika Lodge.

The Chatanika Gold Dredge as of May 2014.

You’re probably looking at the picture above and wondering “what a heap of junk.”  Indeed, this dredge was destroyed by a fire in August 2013.  The story goes that two guys were playing with the levers when a pulley sparked causing the whole ship to catch on fire.  You can read more about it here and here, as well as see pictures of it burning.

Dr. Jackson and the first batch of climate modeling students toured the dredge in 2012, before the fire.  They boarded and explored it.  You’re probably wondering how this dredged look before it was destroyed.  It was beautiful.

Here’s a 360 degree panorama shot.

This picture illustrates how it works.

Here are some pictures of the levers that raised and lowered the massive chainsaw-like bucketline.

The bow gantry and bucketline, robbed of its magnesium-steel bucket-teeth.

Looking up the bow gantry.

This website contains some good pictures of the dredge buckets of #3’s sister dredge, Dredge #8.  More pictures of our Chatanika Dredge #3 can be found here and here.

Urban exploring is one of my favorite hobbies.  It’s the thrilling combination of legal risk, personal danger, and a sense of traveling back in time that appeals to me.  It sometimes gets me into trouble, and sometimes it leads to interesting outcomes.

For example, as an REU student at OWU during the summer of 2012, I persuaded some fellow REU students to explore the abandoned OWU Student Observatory with me.

The abandoned and nearly condemned OWU Student Observatory.

We ended up getting caught in the act by the police and a K-9 unit.  Rather than getting dismissed from the REU program, my advisor laughed and invited me to transfer to OWU.  How could I refuse?

So when I saw the Chatanika Dredge, I knew I had to board it.  Dr. Jackson was not one to hold me back, despite it being extremely unsafe.  After boarding, the wind and the creaking and groaning of old rusting steel made me extra cautious, at times wishing I had a hard hat (or my red glacier mountaineering helmet).  The deck was a mess, and it was difficult to move about.  I did snag a few pictures of the inside.

After exploring the inside, I took a look up at the bow gantry (see earlier diagram), which had a narrow ladder running up it.  Dr. Jackson probably saw the direction of my gaze, and challenged me to see how high I could get.  Normally I face resistance in these matters, but not with Dr. Jackson.  Excited, I carefully climbed up to the tippy-top, and snagged a few more pictures.

Here are a few videos of other people exploring the dredge pre-fire and post-fire.

The urban exploring code of conduct is to never damage, vandalize, litter, break (to enter) or otherwise disturb anything in the building or structure you explore.  Only trespassing is allowed.  It’s a shame this magnificent and historic dredge fell victim to explorers who didn’t abide the code.

After our first night of camping, Dr. Jackson cooked us a traditional Alaskan frontier breakfast of Spam, eggs, cheese, on English muffins, aka Jackson McMuffins. Not being one to subject my body to abominably unhealthy food like Spam (it’s 28.5% fat and high in sodium), I adopted the “When in Rome…” ethos and ate three Jackson McMuffins, plus a raw sliver of Spam just to give myself an extra punch in the gut. Ben repeatedly described the Spam as “delightful,” and shortly thereafter Whitney complained of heartburn. I’m sure I filled my body with close to 1500 calories from that breakfast, but I would need the energy. The plan for the day was to rent bikes and ride the Eklutna Lakeside trail, which runs along the lake up to the Eklutna glacier.

Eklutna Lakeside Trail trailhead.

The attendant at the bike rental shack claimed the bike trail was 14 miles long, followed by a hiking trail up to the glacier. I estimated that by adopting a leisurely pace of 10 mph, we could reach the end of the bike trail in an hour and a half. Nobody knew how long the hiking trail was after that, but I hoped we’d at least be able to view the glacier from the bike trail.

Dr. Jackson (in red) meeting the attendant at the bike rental shack.

Depending on the vagaries of the terrain, the trail split into a relatively flat bikes-only section that ran near the lake, and a parallel ATV (all-terrain vehicle) path that climbed up the mountain and then descended to rejoin with the bike path. On the way up to the glacier, we faithfully kept to the bike trail. This path offered more scenic views of the lake and mountains, but frequently had large sections that had collapsed from erosion.

Ben taking in the majestic views of Lake Eklutna.

The weather was sunny and warm, making it a beautiful day in Alaska for a bike ride.

Jenna leading the pack on the Eklutna Lakeside Trail.

Segments of trail were fully missing such that we had to carry or walk our bikes until the path reappeared. The first one I took rather fast and clipped my left arm on an array of small trees, losing a nontrivial amount of skin. But mostly these tight sections required only slow and careful riding, and perhaps a prayer that the land wouldn’t sink beneath us.

Whitney and a moderately eroded section of trail.

Around the six mile marker we passed the lake and found ourselves coursing through several acres of forest recently marred by wildfire. We were surrounded by dry yellow brush and a scatter of scorched-black tree trunks. The air was filled with an arid, breathless silence highlighting an absence of wildlife. Such landscape will make one’s throat dry, and the group stopped for a water break. I started grumbling with the suspicion that this was the work of some negligent campers, but Jenna, our resident botanist/chemist, explained that wildfires were a natural part of a forest’s lifecycle, which made me feel better. Natural wildfires are A-okay in my book.

Jenna and the wildfire area along Eklutna trail.

Shortly after the eleven mile mark we crossed a small, gently flowing river which carried the main glacier runoff that fed the lake. Our pace was about 4.5 miles per hour by this point, and some of us were having trouble with our bikes shifting properly. We decided to break for lunch on a sandbar in the middle of the river.

The sandbar that became our picnic spot. We sat on that fallen tree trunk to the left.

By this point I had run out of water (the Spam sodium had hogged my water supply), and Dr. Jackson advised that I not drink the river water due to the risk of contracting giardia, which is a bacterial infection producing violent digestive problems.

After lunch, the trees and river (or perhaps his food) struck Ben with the impulse to meditate. The others found themselves some rocks to sit on and politely waited for him to finish. I just stared at all this cool, fresh glacier water rushing by me. “Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink” goes the The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. It was a only a few hours back to camp, so I wasn’t worried about shriveling up into a raisin.

Our picnic area looking down river at the bridge along the trail.

But I came close. On the return trip, we accidentally took one of the ATV trails, which was drastically more difficult. It was rockier and had larger elevation changes, which substantially slowed down the group. And to our dismay, it was over a mile long! Future bike riders, heed this warning: Do not ride the ATV trail!

The trail splitting into the bike trail to the left and ATV trail to the right.

Finally, we made it back to the bike shack, and I drank one of the most delicious gatorades of my life.