Ned's Pipeline Trek Page

After passing through Delta Junction, I think I know how Mick Jagger feels when he tries to walk the streets of London. Well, maybe not Mick; maybe Charlie Watts. My dog and I are experiencing our fifteen minutes of fame during this walk from Valdez to Prudhoe Bay.

I began to realize a lot of people are following our progress after my brother Drew and I crossed a glacial stream in the Alaska Range. We could see the Richardson Highway from where I sat on boulders, waiting for my feet to dry. From there, we saw a bizarre sight-people rock-hopping down the creek bed toward us.

"Is that Jane?" Karen Dullen asked after she and her daughter Kimberly walked 200 yards to find out. The Dullens took our picture, then returned to their car. Drew laughed.

"You're a star," he said.

"Jane's the star," I replied while tying my boots. "That's who everybody asks for." It's true-without Jane, I'm an unshaven man carrying a shiny shotgun, missing only camouflage clothing to complete my end-of-the-road drifter look. Jane's chocolate fur and backpack instantly identify us the The Guy and His Dog Hiking the Pipeline.

It seemed as if everyone in Delta Junction knew about us. As Jane and I neared the main road to Fort Greely, I found a hand-made sign tied to a post. The sign, which included a little picture of Jane and I that appeared in the newspaper, read: "Welcome To Fort Greely, Ned & Jane! The Fox Family."

I untied the sign, folded it, and fastened it to my pack. I left a note for the Foxes and walked on.

Jane and I were forced to the highway bridge to cross Jarvis Creek. On the north side of the bridge, we met two Fort Greely soldiers whose names I neglected to ask. They were taking two boys who wore Green Bay Packers caps to Lake George to fish for pike. But first they wanted to meet Jane and me. They gave me a quart of water, and some kind words. "I admire what you're doing" was the comment that stuck with me as I walked on.

After dropping back down to Jarvis Creek to drink more water and squish mud through my toes, I told Jane it was time to saddle up. As soon as we hit the road, a car carrying a family from Eielson Air Force Base pulled over-they had seen Jane and I lounging on the creek as they drove over the bridge. The Bonzers-Pat, Karen, Kara, and Zack-had Jane and I pose for a picture.

It was only the beginning. As Jane and I walked into Delta Junction on the highway, there was a reaction from every driver. Some stared and locked their glance on us until their necks could turn no more. Some beeped their horns. Others waved. My favorite was a white-haired woman in a sedan who punched the air with her fist and held her arm out the window as she drove away.

Jane and I posed for more than a dozen photos in the next two days. It got to the point where I began to shy from road crossings. It's not that I didn't like the attention (I'm enjoying this 15 minutes), it's just hard to make any miles when you're standing in front of a camera.

With the fame, too, comes the fortune. Jeff Schultz, of Delta, bought me a newspaper, some candy bars, and snacks for Jane when he saw us wandering. He told me he'd find me with his three-wheeler the next day and deliver me the Sunday paper. He did.

Judy Ferguson, of Delta, interviewed me for her newspaper column. On one of our three meetings along the trail, she gave me a sugary bear claw, a juicy jar of home-canned salmon, and a fresh cucumber, which I ate like an apple. I washed it all down with a Dr. Pepper. Yum.

Judy was the last person I talked to. Throngs of onlookers are now elsewhere as Jane and I walk the section of pipeline that strays 11 miles from any road-the farthest the pipeline diverges from pavement in its 800 miles. The Salcha River is ahead; there's no bridge, and I'm not packing the boat right now. I'm hoping to-no, I'm counting on catching a ride across the river from a boater. I'm glad Jane's here. I plan on riding her reputation across the river.

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