Bam! Five Hours in Madrid

On our way to Bologna, we had a 7-hour layover in Madrid, meaning we had 5 hours to get from the airport to downtown and back in time to catch our connection.

It may have been a whirlwind, but it was a blast.

We stored our luggage, caught the express bus downtown, then meandered through streets, alleys and plazas that we hadn't seen for 10 years. The Puerta del Sol, the Plaza Major, and finally, tapas y cerveza on Plaza Santa Ana.

Reluctantly, we caught the express bus back to the airport. Because the security line was only 3 minutes long and our plane to Bologna was delayed, got to spend a couple hours in an airport restaurant. Un vino, dos cervezas y dos aguas.

La Plaza Mayor ... 10 years after we last saw it ... hasn't changed much.

We consider it contemporary art.

Tapas y cerveza on Plaza Santa Ana. 

Vino y cerveza at the Madrid airport, waiting for our flight to Bologna.

We're now in Bologa. Let the Sweet Life begin!

Part III: The Cruise

This was our first cruise ever, and we didn't know what to expect.

We'll let the pictures do the talking (and if you can't hear them, it was an amazing, fun and beautiful adventure.)

Words can't do this scene justice.

Marjorie Glacier.

Check out the calving.

Frankly, we can't remember the name of this glacier.

Right about midnight.

Upper Dewey Lake with our niece Everette. We nicknamed the trail the Skagway Death March. Six hours total, three hours up, three hours down. Steep, steep, steep. We're glad we made it back to the boat on time.

The view from the trail to Upper Dewey.

On the last night on the boat, the captain renewed John and Mary's wedding vows in honor of their 60th anniversary.

This is in Vancouver, one of our new favorite cities. Two splendid days there. Great fun and food.

Next up, Italy and Croatia!

Part II: Denali

The purpose of our Alaska adventure was to celebrate Karen’s parents’ 60th anniversary in grand style. So over the next couple days, the rest of the Oxriders – Sharon and Wes from Ohio and John, Anne, Everett, Isabelle and AnneGray from North Carolina – joined us in Fairbanks, the starting point for our journey that would end in Vancouver.

Our first morning and early afternoon were spent on a riverboat on the Chena River. And then we were off by bus to Denali, just a few hours away.

Through Karen’s contacts at the National Park Service, we enjoyed a private, ranger-guided interpretive hike in the evening. We hiked to and from Horseshoe Lake, enjoying it so much that half of our group missed the last bus from the park back to the hotel.

Those of us in the lollygagger group were saved from the long walk back to the hotel only by Anne Oxrider’s powers of persuasion. After arriving back at the hotel, she talked the bus driver into doing a return trip to pick the rest of us up – after she’d already clocked out.

While waiting for the entire family to gather, we made a quick stop at the city of North Pole. That's us with Karen's parents and sister Sharon and brother-in-law Wes. Oh, and Santa. Really.

Couldn't resist.

The whole family on the hike to Horseshoe Lake.

Look, there's caribou! No, reindeer! No, caribou!

 Believe it or not, North America's highest peak is 14 miles  behind us. Yeah, we couldn't see it thought the clouds, either. But it was still spectacular. (And aren't those girls the cutest?)

South of Anchorage, approaching the Kenai Peninsula.

Our boat awaits. This is at Whittier.

Next up, the cruise south to Vancouver.

Part I: The Arctic

Sorry for the span of time since our first post about Alaska. What can we say? We got so caught up in the splendor of the Great Land that we had no time to blog from the trip.

Anyway, since there were three distinct segments of this trip, we’re going to break our story into thirds: the Arctic (Part I), Denali National Park (Part II) and the cruise south through the Inside Passage (Part III).

Starting from the top …

As you might imagine, the area above the Arctic Circle is otherworldly.

We flew in a nine-seater from Fairbanks to Barrow, where we walked in the Arctic Ocean among the broken ice, then to Deadhorse (also known as the Prudhoe Bay oil exploration area, and the destination of the Ice Road Truckers), and then we vanned south on the Dalton Highway (the only highway north of Fairbanks in the entire state) across the tundra, the Brooks mountains (home of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge and the Gates of the Arctic National Park – both of which you can only fly or walk into), through Coldfoot (the only gas, food and rooms between Deadhorse and Fairbanks), across the Arctic Circle, across the Yukon River and, 500 miles later, back to Fairbanks.

How’s that for a big sentence? But EVERYTHING’S big in Alaska. (Speaking of which, did you know that if they split Alaska in two, Texas would become the third-largest state?)

A little about Deadhorse/Prudhoe Bay, the starting point of the Alaska Pipeline. It’s like something out of a science fiction story about how to build a city on an inhospitable planet. This being summertime, the roads are made from tons and tons and tons of gravel, and every building is set on stilts so they don’t melt the permafrost. There must be billions of dollars of exploration machinery and vehicles, most looking like they belong in the 22nd century. (In wintertime, they build temporary ice roads out into the tundra to search for oil and gas.)

A trip back to the Arctic Ocean took us through part of the oil exploration area. It’s interesting that, while they extract natural gas with the oil, they reinject the gas into the ground to maintain pressure on the oil, making it easier to extract. (Since we're not geoscientists, we'll refrain from opining on this practice ... but it sounds either ingenious or overly manipulative, we're not sure which.)

Words fail us in trying to describe the solitude, scenery and serenity of the arctic, whether by air or ground.

By air, you lose count of the multitudes of lakes, ponds, rivers and streams that mark the tundra and marvel at the desolate, virtually uninhabited Brooks mountains. To get a sense of the “unreality” of these mountains, we suggest watching the short films The World Beyond the World or the Edge of the Earth.

From the ground, you get lost in the desolation. The tundra (which actually gets less rain than Arizona) is flat for as far as you can see. But despite appearances, it hosts vibrant wildlife. We came across a herd of musk oxen, and we missed by just one day a migrating herd of 2,000 caribou. The Brooks Range, interestingly, is a former seabed from what’s now Washington state. At a lunch stop along a stream, we collected rocks with fossilized coral and, we’re pretty sure, a minnow-sized fish.

The Brooks Range is one of the few West-East mountain ranges. And it’s where you encounter the northern tree line; therefore, as we drove south, we left behind the flat, arid barrenness the tundra and entered lush forests of birch, poplar, aspen and pine.

In Wiseman, an old gold-mining community (2010 census: 14 hearty souls), there’s what’s reputed to be the northernmost vegetable garden. With the nearest Safeway or 7-11 being 250 miles away, the residents understandably are self-sustainable, but they also indulge with Amazon Prime. It’s hard to beat the free shipping.

At the actual Arctic Circle, we picnicked and took what we thought were some pretty funny photos and videos. There’s Brad somersaulting across the line. Kisses with each kisser on either side of the line. Karen’s dad carrying her mom across the line. And our new friend from Australia doing what can best be described as an abbreviated standing broad jump.

The last quarter of the trip was notable for the endless vistas of forest. Millions of acres of trees and meadows. Being from Southern California, we know all about wildfires. But up here, with practically zero population, wildfires are huge, and part of Nature’s cycle of growth, death and growth.

As we drove through burn areas, it was interesting to see where the groves of fire-resistant birch and aspen trees withstood the flames, protecting the fire-prone pines and firs in their midst. It was a reminder that, in our own lives, we have to sometimes stand strong against fiery onslaughts while protecting those around us.

Approaching Fairbanks, we came upon the northernmost power lines, meaning we were back on the grid again. While we were sorry to be leaving this part of the adventure, we were excited to begin the next phase: the gathering of the rest of the Oxrider family and experiencing Denali National Park.

That’s a lot of words. Let’s let the photos do the talking.

Here's that moose snorter we told you about in our previous post.

The very impressive ice museum at Chena Hot Springs.

Out for a hike near Fairbanks.

Roger that, Zero Niner ... this is us on our way from Fairbanks to Coldfoot to Barrow. Over.

She takes those binoculars everywhere.

Just prior to our walk in the Arctic Ocean.

The ocean.

This is the old welcome sign to Deadhorse, AKA Prudhoe Bay.

Another walk in the Arctic ... this time it's Karen's dad.

A couple musk oxen.

The Brooks Range.

The Dalton Highway, through the Brooks Range. It's mostly gravel ... very little pavement.

The Trans-Alaska Pipeline.

The mosquitos were so big and plentiful, they tried lifting us off the ground.

We went fossil hunting here ... found some fossilized coral and what we think is a tiny fish.

The Von Trapp family.

You can't see it, but from here we could see the northernmost spruce.

Rest stop just north of Wiseman.

A delicious beer from the northernmost brewery (Silver Gulch in Fairbanks) at the northernmost bar (Slate Creek Inn in Coldfoot).

Wiseman's an old gold rush town that's now home to a handful of very friendly and hearty souls.

Our tour guide rolled out the "dotted red carpet" at the Arctic Circle. This is Karen's parents.

All the couples played the Kissing Game.

Karen does the Slo Mo Crossing. Or was she doing the Robot?

Um, no comment.

Ahem, still no comment.

Special thanks for our Arctic Adventure go to the good folks at Northern Alaska Tour Company (www.northernalaska.com). They created a trip that will last forever in our memories.

And a special shout out to our guide, Michael Dean, for loving nature and having the passion to share it with others.