Rough road to McCarthy

After leaving Valdez, although I was pointed back north toward my friends in Glenallen, today I veered off to the east to explore a lesser known corner of Alaska. The two towns of Kennicott and McCarthy are about 100 miles away, 66 or so of them are rather rough gravel miles. A few of the retired RVers I’d met in Tok had derided the area as not having much to see and worth skipping, but the more outdoor inclined friends of mine that had been spoke quite highly of it. I decided to at least go and make my own opinion. Once the pavement ends, the speed limit is 35. It may just be my big ol’ van or my tame driving tendencies, but that feel a bit too fast on most of these stretches for me, so I’m going even slower. After maybe an hour or so crawling along I decide to push it a at least up to the limit. My gear in the back is secured well against the vibrations, so I end up cranking up some music and focus on the driving more than the sightseeing. All in all, I feel perfectly in control at 35 this time. Either the road has chilled out a bit, or I’m just more used to it. I’m not sure exactly when, but sometime after getting cranking along my rear left tire had gone soft. My guess is that it then heated up and had a bit of a blowout. I didn’t realize it until the rubber slapped my wheel well however, and at that point the tire was mangled. Of course this is on a mile of rather narrow road, and as seems to always be the case, the rain started falling just as I got the jack out of the van. It also seemed like there was suddenly quite a bit more traffic heading both ways. Thankfully the curve I was on wasn’t too blind and they had time to stop and pass me safely.

The swap wasn’t too bad, really. I was more annoyed by the fact that the rough road coupled with the flat rumbled my rear mounted gas canister loose, causing it to rip its way mostly off the door. After getting the spare in place, I had to sling the gas can up top and lash it to my cargo rack instead. I’ve already got a band-aid on my right thumb from an inconveniently place injury I got on my trip down Clear creek, then removing the gas can mount from the rear I drive a sliver of metal into my left index finger and then tightening the straps down to the roof rack my hand slipped off and scraped a decent sized evulsion on my left thumb. Now with three bandaged digits and coated in road dust and blood, I drove slowly the last few miles into McCarthy. One of the cars coming from town that stopped to offer help gave me the number of a local that patches tires. I don’t think they realize how damaged my tire really was, but I took the number anyway. At the little information building on the outskirts of town the kid at the counter has the same guy’s number written down. Well, he must be the guy… I’ll try him. I don’t think he can help much with the bad tire, as it is far beyond patching but I’m hoping he can top off my spare as its looking a bit under inflated.

He turns out to be just wrapping his lunch break and swings on down to talk to me. He says he can totally top me off, but looking at my rim size, he says he might actually have some used tires for me. I follow him back to his shop not too far away to look at what he’s got. He’s got a few that’ll fit me, but not exactly match my other tires in size. I work out a deal to trade him my good rear, take two matching rears and get them put on my rims as well as top off my spare for $100. The new to me tires actually have a little more tread left on ‘em than mine anyway. In less than an hour, I’m rolling again. Damn, that was far more painless of a situation than I imagined when my tire first blew. I had assumed I’d be limping the van out with no spare and mismatched tires on the drive (rear) axle. Well, I guess Its time to head into McCarthy.

I stop back in at the info booth and get the low down on town. The kid is honest and not trying to steer me towards the commercially guided answers. Pretty accessible is Glacier hiking, a few local trails up to the old mines, a very popular and interesting tour of a 14 story copper mine building among a few local rivers that could make some fun runs. Getting the names of the local rafting outfits, I figure they’ll be the ones to talk to about the water related fun. The two historic towns don’t really allow outside cars in, but offer a shuttle service to get around. McCarthy is more inhabited, and only a half mile walk beyond the footbridge over the Kennicott river. Kennicott is a more or less historic exhibit of a town with many buildings restored/preserved with curated history abound. It is about 5 miles beyond the footbridge and the main reason for the shuttling. The hikes to mines as well as the access to the glacier a few miles past town are on the Kennicott side of things as well. More or less oriented to whats around and available, I decide to walk into McCarthy this evening and snag the shuttle into Kennicott tomorrow morning and spend the day there.

Walking over the footbridge, I’m impressed at how damn fast the Kennicott is flowing. If I can get some info on it, It could be an interesting paddle. I find myself in McCarthy surprisingly quickly and nose around a small museum at the opening of town. It is packed with relics and stories from the mining days that created both towns. Moving into the town proper I find two restaurants, two art stores, a guiding service, the rafting guide and a grocery. There are a few houses scattered off the main street as well. I chat with the raft guides and they give me some good info on the Kennicott, but warn me it is really pushing right now and that the take out is critical. “You don’t want to go down past where the old outhouse got washed into the river. Its standing out real clear, but its truly your ‘Oh shit’ moment if you see it and you aren’t close to the right bank”. Roger. They go on to tell me the river has eroded the left bank above that outhouse and dumped a bunch of old scrap from the lot that used to be there, including a few cars. So… “stay right”.

The more enticing thing they share with me is a local creek, McCarthy Creek, is super popular among packrafters. There’s even an annual packraft race held there. I pump them for all the info I can on it, but they mention another guide service based out of Kennicott that will know more. Cool. I’m getting more and more excited I came down here. I thank them for the info, as well as the hand drawn map for the put in and take out on the Kennicott river, and do the small lap that covers town.

As I swing by the front of the grocery I peek in to see what kind of selection and price they offer, more out of curiosity than anything. On my way out I almost don’t notice that next to a guy sitting outside enjoying an ice cream is a drysuit. I head over and ask if he’s a packrafter by chance. He is, and of course, he had just run McCarthy Creek. Perfect! We chat about the run a good bit and I’m feeling sold on running it tomorrow or the next day. It’s a five mile hike and paddle back kind of thing. He didn’t encounter anything too dangerous as far as blown down trees in the river. Awesome. A plan is coming together. I camp a couple miles out of town, looking forward to a day containing a historic tour, a big hike, time on a glacier and a packraft run.