Wrangell-St Elias, McCarthy and Kennecott – July 2

                                             

Billed as a 2-hr drive along a gravel road from the Copper River to the remote hamlet of McCarthy, it took us fully 5 hours to traverse this dreadfully rutted, wash-boarded track that passes for a road.  Fashioned along the old railroad bed of the Copper River Northwestern Railroad built in 1901 to bring miners to and ore from the massive Kennecott Copper Mine, the “road” still shows areas where railroad ties and spikes poke up to menace drivers.  It is, however, stunningly beautiful, especially when crossing over some of the many old trestles spanning deep raging rivers through unbelievably rugged country.  The infamous road to McCarthy is by itself an epic journey and would have been easier and faster to traverse were we not pulling Bambi at slow speeds so as not to totally pop all her rivets.

                                            

                                            

The road ends about a mile distant from the town of McCarthy whereupon visitors are required to continue on across a footpath spanning the Kennecott River. I had read that McCarthy, once a very rough mill town from 1901 to 1939 filled with brothels and miners, madams and bootleggers, remains a somewhat rough place yet, but what we found was quite unexpected.  The tiny town is comprised of renovated cottages (deserted after the mine failed in 1939) to tourist services offering food and lodging at outrageous cost.  Next to these scattered little homes in various stages of renovation are dilapidated and rotting cars and structures along a couple of rutted lanes inhabited by young folks employed as seasonal guides, friendly and colorful old timers with long beards and dangling cigarettes, and a plethora of young adults clad in rags and driving recklessly around on ATV’s and motorcycles.  The clientele are a rough, part hippy part redneck eclectic group of locals and backpackers, none of whom looked anything like me…aging retired tourists.  We’ve decided that Alaskans are a different breed; rough, shiftless, drinkers/smokers, kindly enough, but definitely odd and as rugged as the country itself.  

                                                  











 


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