Alaska Observations

My trip to Alaska began before the plane ride, when I started telling friends where we were headed. I heard some fascinating stories of Alaska in the 1970’s, in the heady days of building the Alaska Pipeline from Prudhoe Bay to Valdez. R. told me he’d worked as a carpenter for years in Alaska, building homes for the newly rich. While there, he camped and explored and got his bush pilot’s license so he could get around. Later he got bored and returned to CA, where he has been an industrial engineer. L. lived in Sitka during the 70’s and worked as an architectural consultant to help the local tribes spend their federal allocations to build in the most foresightful way. L. came back to CA to give birth in a hospital. Then she and her infant son drove the Alcan Highway for weeks to return to Alaska. If that’s not adventure enough, she was flying in a pontoon boat back to Sitka and one of the pontoons fell off while landing. She was quickly rescued, but what she recalls of the experience was how matter of fact everyone was that the plane fell apart. 

So here are a few salient facts. There is no state sales tax nor personal income tax in Alaska. Compare that with the 9.25% sales tax in Santa Cruz County and about 9.3% in our income bracket in personal income tax. So that’s the best of Oregon (no sales tax) and Washington state (no personal income tax) combined. And the state of Alaska pays its residents a dividend each year just for living there. This bonus comes from the Alaska Permanent Fund (oil money) and came to $1312 per eligible person in 2023. 

The labor pool here among tourists is seasonal. We have been served by adept young internationals, probably holding H2B visas. According to their name tags, they come from Thailand, Poland and Romania, among other countries. I am impressed by their command of English, although their accents sounded acquired from movies like “The Lion King.” Our Romanian server Valentin addressed us as “you guys” with New York Nathan Lane flavor and liked to say “no worries!”  One Love, Mon! 

I’m trying to be less judgmental of my fellow travelers but not succeeding. The park is set up for bus tourists. See the Denali NP brochure, above.

Why does the rapture therein described elude me? Even if we did spot charismatic megafauna out the window, I’d be seeing the baseball-capped head of the next guy, choking on his Old Spice, hearing the rustle and farts of the old and sedentary, hearing people talking, thinking “those are lingonberries, not blueberries” and feeling trapped, confined, and getting antsier by the minute. Dear God, help me extend grace to my fellow bus passengers so I don’t feel like firing unending snark in their general direction.

So I’m people-watching, thinking about conservation and the irony of all these visitors here loving the wilderness to death.

In order to amuse the tourists, the NP Service hosts “Dog Demos” of sled dogs pulling a wheeled cart on an asphalt track. JG and I passed on this entertainment. Folks, horses are more practical for pulling carts. Dogs work better in the snow. This idea of sled dogs pulling carts on a track is an oddity of NP Service imagination. There is not enough for the busloads of tourists to do. Unlike the other kind of dog track, now illegal, you can’t bet on the dogs because the lead sled dog always wins. My dog demo would involve Marco demonstrating how to claim treats by fishing Q-Tips out of the wastebasket. Or demo real working dogs: sheep dogs, drug-sniffing dogs, service dogs. Or funny dog tricks. The local hospital used to host a dog parade of staff pets in front of the windows of the pediatric ward. That is a good use of dog demos.