Ned's Pipeline Trek Page

I saw an unusual sight yesterday. After 11 days and 64 miles on the trail, I watched a large silver pipe emerge from the ground.

This swampy valley to the east of Pump Station 12 apparently sits on a bit of permafrost, allowing me my first glimpse of the tube I've been walking above for almost two weeks.

Reaching the closest pump station to Valdez reminds me that this trip, and this summer, will run out in a few months when I reach Prudhoe Bay. Before a few people get lost in a colorful blur, I want to reflect on them and the unexpected ways they enhanced this walk across Alaska.

Tony Bickert, a reporter, met me for an interview at the Valdez Vanguard newspaper office the day before I walked off. Smoking a cigarette and wearing a Pittsburgh Steelers sweatshirt with black and yellow hood toggles, Tony fired a few questions at me: "Where'd you get the idea? How long do you think it will take? What will you do about bears?"

Perhaps sensing I had other things to do, Tony told me he had no more questions. I asked if I could use his phone so I could make my final pre-trip calls to my parents and siblings.

He set me up in another room. I sat and made seven calls in comfort, gazing out a picture window when I easily could have been standing outside a noisy public phone.

While I was talking to my parents, who live in New York, I heard Tony transcribing notes from a tiny tape recorder. When I finished my emotional conversations with those far away, I thanked Tony for the use of the phone. He wouldn't let me go before calling me back into his cluttered office.

"Have you ever seen one of these?" he said, holding up the tiniest tape recorder I've ever seen. "I used it on my drive up here from Pittsburgh. They're really good to catch ideas when you can't write them down.

"You can have it," Tony said. "It might help you out."

It has. I keep it in my pants pocket while hiking. I pull it out to record a trail happening -- "We just had our second porcupine encounter. This is the sound of Jane trying to collapse her throat on the leash as John holds her back from the porcupine."

Tsaina Lodge, my first stop with a roof after six days of hiking, offered a comfy rest amid the mountains. Owner Lisa Wax let me string wires all over her office to fax my first columns back to the Geophysical Institute. Paul Birkeland warmed me with conversation in the spotless, smoke-free bar during a stormy afternoon. Bartender Doug Vollman cracked me up with his oft-repeated suggestion that I golf the pipeline.

"Anybody can walk it," he said. "Imagine Prudhoe Bay as the final hole."

Ron Holmstrom is the manager of Tiekel River Lodge, a homey outpost about 10 miles south of where I now type under a blue tarp that's protecting Jane and I from a barrage of hail.

Ron rushed out of the lodge dressed in coveralls that smelled of diesel to greet my hiking buddy John Arntz, Jane and I, two days ago. He also wore a smile, and he invited us to bring our packs inside the lodge.

"Can I take Jane inside?" I asked.

"Sure." John needed a ride to pick up his Subaru at Tsaina Lodge. Before John walked to the Richardson Highway to begin hitchhiking, Ron cranked up his truck and then gave John a ride to Tsaina Lodge.

After Ron returned, we both feasted on huge meals concocted by Tiekel River Lodge cook Dave Barbello. As we ate, Ron burned the "good guy" label into my brain by dropping to the carpeted floor and petting Jane's upturned belly. My favorite chocolate Lab responded with a series of groans.

Later, Ron offered me a shotgun sling so I won't have to carry my gun by hand all 800 miles.

"Just mail it back to me," he said.

It's nice to know there's still a bunch of good guys out here. I hope to meet many more.

Questions about Ned's trip? Contact the Geophysical Institute Information Office at (907) 474-7559 or through e-mail at information@gi.alaska.edu.

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