Leaving the mystery bridge, I sat back, lowered the windows down and let the cool wind blow through. Mountains that scraped the skies were in front of the long winding highway lined with true emerald green forest...and not a car in sight. No where to get to fast. We came to the small town of Talkeetna... just a few small wooden buildings with Mount McKinley in it's background. A funky little town with the last of the mountain climbers decending and calling it a season. My wife, Robin, wanted to take a plane ride to Mount McKinley and land on a glacier. Yours truly wanted to jump right in to some King Salmon fishing on one of the many glacier rivers which feed off of the mountains. We walked up to a small office in the center of town to make our arrangements with a guide. My son Michael and I were beyond ready to get off the main road and into the back woods. The guides there use jet boats to glide over the shallow river waters. They asked us when we wanted to go...I looked up for a second and said, "Right now would be as good a time as any." They hooked me up to leave at 4PM. Just remember, the sun never goes down this time of the year in Alaska. We were fitted with waders, I took one of my rods, a van pulled up and drove us down to the river where the boat was waiting. Robin was in her plane flying over the mountains doing her thing... ...while my son and I were screaming up the river to our destination, Clear Creek.

 

 

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