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Bob Krantz, 2000Some of you may know me from my contributions to Running Reports. For more than 2 years, I have tried to describe the ups and downs of Porsche ownership in the challenging setting (and climate!) found here in the 49th state. I live with my family in Anchorage, Alaska's largest city at about 250,000 people, and with many of the cultural and commercial features of modern western life. Beyond city limits, though, the land remains mostly wild and the scenery spectacular.
For a mid-summer holiday, my wife, Shirlee, proposed a road trip to Skagway, Alaska's 10th largest city, and a popular cruise ship destination. Great, I said, let's take the Porsche. But the distance, she said, nearly 1000 miles each way, mostly on the remote Alcan highway. Fine, I said, we can really enjoy summer on the open road. What about the children, she countered. The back seat--they will love it, I said. Luggage for all of us? Pack lightly!
So on a misty Friday evening in July, we headed north out of Anchorage for an Alaskan Porsche adventure. Truth be told, we had driven much of this route before, but always in our GMC Suburban, and usually towing a large trailer. This time, we hoped to make more frequent stops, and explore some side roads that we always passed by.
The first stretch includes Alaska's only 6-lane freeway, from Anchorage to Eagle River, and then 4 lanes to Palmer. This modern section contrasts with the rough gravel roads of Alcan legends. Beyond Palmer, though, the highway narrows to 2 lanes and winds its way along side the Matanuska River, climbing and falling with the alpine topography. With surprisingly few motor homes, the bane of Alaska roads, the driving proved as exciting as I had hoped, despite light rain and a few grumbles from the back seat. No heed, our first stop was planned rather close to home.
In under 2 hours we pulled up to the Sheep Mountain Lodge. Alaska tradition
includes isolated lodges and road houses, providing the only meals and services
on some routes. In the old days, these could be crude, but Sheep Mountain
proved delightful. The main lodge, complete with bar, served a great dinner,
and our individual cabin provided beds for all and a modern bathroom. We parked
the Porsche on the gravel only a few feet from the cabin door. Our only
complaint came from the pretty but thin window shades that did little to block
the summer midnight sun.
Morning came early, and with many miles to travel we were on the road before breakfast. We told the kids to expect something to eat in the next town: Glenallen was only 75 miles ahead. The road climbed over Tahneta Pass, and then Eureka Summit, at 3322 ft (1013 m), and then descended into the Nelchina River valley. Here the recently rebuilt roadway gave way to older pavement buckled with frost heaves. Much of central and northern Alaska is underlain by permafrost, where the soil and substrate are permanently frozen to depths of up to 2000 ft. When road construction disturbs the permafrost, it locally melts and subsides, only later to freeze and rebound. In the end, the pavement resembles a roller coaster, with sudden drops or humps. During the day, black skid marks from locked brakes give some warning. At night, the road can suddenly drop away into the dark. Given this extreme highway terrain, my C4 retains the stock ride height and springs in order to handle the challenge, aided by those terrific Porsche brakes.
Glennallen is one of only two large towns in the southern Alaska interior. With a population of around 1000, it offers one decent hotel and a handful of cafes. Over the years, we have yet to eat a really good meal there, and our breakfast continued the trend. Dining in the last frontier is always a challenge, with limited choices. Most of the time, you can expect mediocre fare (or worse) coupled with high prices. The few places with talented chefs become important landmarks.
From Glenallen, we packed back into the Porsche for the 140 miles to Tok.
Most of the way, the road follows the Copper River before climbing over the
eastern extension of the Alaska Range. With bright sun and mostly empty road, I
let the C4 stretch its legs a bit. While police enforcement is light, the
ever-present frost heaves and the chance encounter with wildlife around the next
bend kept our cruising speed in the 80 to 90 mph range. Over the 140 miles, we
passed only 3 or 4 lodges with food and gas service. We also stopped at the
Slana ranger station on the edge of Wrangell-St. Elias National Park, largest in
the United States at 13.2 million acres. The road south into the park is
definitely not for sports cars, so we resumed our trip east.
In Tok we stopped for gas and found our fuel economy pleasantly high at 28 miles per US gallon (it would later improve to 30 mpg). We also found a friend from Anchorage fuelling his truck at the same station. He both complimented our spirit and questioned our sanity in taking such a long trip with the 911, but our spirits remained high. We bought a few food supplies in the general store, and headed east to Canada.
Another 90 miles of spectacular and remote scenery brought us to the border at Port Alcan. The women at Canadian customs gave us a look that suggested she does not see many Porsches, but allowed us to pass anyway. In Canada, miles became kilometres and gallons became litres.
The roads also became a bit rougher, with many sections under construction and repair. To compensate, the landscape around Kluane Lake is superb. Local monuments commemorate the original Alaska-Canada Highway, built in a hurry during 1942 after the United States entered World War II. Remnants of the original road can be seen along the modern route, and a plaque in Kluane National Park marks the ribbon cutting at Soldier's Summit that officially opened the Alcan only 8 months after construction began.
After a decent Chinese(!) dinner in Haines Junction, population 800, we started east on the last segment for the day. In the evening twighlight, we started to see more wild life. Over this last 90 mile stretch we saw several moose and two grizzly bears, including one on the highway shoulder that we stopped to watch. We often see moose around Anchorage, but not many bears. Although bears have a much worse image, moose pose a greater threat, especially to drivers. Imagine a 1000 pound cow on 4 foot stilts, with the principal mass at eye level (or above, in a Porsche). Many moose-motorist encounters prove fatal to both parties.
We pulled into Whitehorse, capital of Yukon Territory just before sunset, and
filled the gas tank with what would prove to be problem fuel. Friends had
recommended the Edgewater Hotel and we were happy to find more than comfortable
accommodations with a European flavor. The Porsche went into the small private
parking lot behind the hotel, where it rested with bug-splattered nose.
Whitehorse is large enough (25,000 people) to have several car dealerships and
many garages, but of course no official Porsche center. As I drifted off to
sleep I pondered "what if" we needed mechanical assistance, with the nearest
factory-approved service so far away.
After two long travel days we deserved a break, and Whitehorse offers many
historic and recreational diversions. Founded during the gold rush, we had the
privilege of spending a day with David Nuefeld, professional historian and
author. David showed us around town and then led us to several sites that once
formed part of the frantic transportation network that fed thousands of would-be
prospectors to the gold fields. At Whitehorse, most "stampeders" piled the
supplies that had dragged over the coastal mountains onto riverboats to head
down the Yukon River.
Finally, it was time to hit the road again and complete our journey. The drive from Whitehorse to Skagway is only 100 miles, but it presented some of the most spectacular scenery and entertaining driving. The White Pass, at 3290 ft (1003 m) is well above tree line, and along with the nearby Chilkoot Pass provided the main access routes for the gold rush. All along the road are reminders of that era, some as ruins, others as small towns now past their glory years.
In contrast, the boom continues in Skagway. Immense cruise ships dock and release thousands of tourists who mill about the town and ride the historic White Pass Railroad into the mountains. We parked the dusty Porsche just off main street, among the more typical local pick-up trucks and well-used sedans. We did see a pristine Nash Metropolitan in gleaming back and white, parked next to a rusting steam engine. Local exhibits describe the ordeal the stampeders faced, including the 2000 pounds of supplies required by Canadian officials for each man to ensure survival in the wilderness. The only problem was how to transport a ton of gear by foot over the mountains and down to the Yukon River.
Now ready to head for home, we retraced the gold rush route, but certainly at a pace the old-timers could only dream of. Crossing back into Canada, the customs official again seemed curious about the car, but in the end was more concerned about ownership of the children packed into the jump seats. Satisfied with our passports, she released us to enjoy the return drive. After one more night in Whitehorse, and another refill of Canadian premium fuel, we headed west for Alaska. The weather turned mixed, with clouds and rain. I became more concerned when the Porsche became more difficult to start. Whether hot or cold, the engine now required several attempts to get fired, and then often ran roughly for a minute or two. Once running, everything seemed fine, and so we headed on with fingers crossed.
Near Kluane Lake again we turned off onto a dirt road leading to the lake
shore. There we found a large collection of old log cabins and sheds, all that
remained of a forgotten community. The kids found a rusted truck chassis,
complete with engine and seat, but not much more. We also found recent bear
signs, and decided to head back to the highway.
We spent our last night in an historic road house at Gakona. We all squeezed into one of the small but pleasant bedrooms upstairs in the main log building. Dinner in the other large log structure proved outstanding, though we could not help but envy the fresh salmon that other lodge guests had caught earlier that day. In days past, the lodge also offered fuel and mechanical service, as well as simple refuge in bad weather. Our only disappointment came when breakfast (and all the staff) went missing in the morning--perhaps gone fishing again.
Closing in on home, we made one last detour to the Matanuska Glacier. We paid the entry fee and bumped down a rough road to park almost at the glacier face. Still dirt-covered, the white C4 almost melded into the icy scenery. Restarting the engine proved even more difficult, and I was considering a night camped by the glacier when it finally re-fired. With new concern, we made one last sprint for home without stopping.
With the car safe in the garage, we unpacked and stretched out. We had covered nearly 2000 miles over some challenging roads, and through some incredible but remote landscape. Some of the driving had been nothing short of fantastic, while other segments, mostly the rougher gravel sections we had traversed at reduced speed, proved more tedious. The 911 is clearly a tight fit for a family, but with good humor it all worked out. Would we do it again? Without a doubt. Is the Porsche a suitable car for the Alaska wilderness? No question, as long as you are ready to deal with a little dirt and the occasional rough road. Alaska highways certainly allow any Porsche to prove its heritage, usually as the sole representative of the marque. In fact over the entire trip we saw only one other Porsche, a 944 Turbo zooming the other way on a sunny, smooth section of the Alcan highway. When the driver waved to acknowledge our greeting, I was certain he had a big smile.
Postscript: Back in Anchorage, the C4 persisted in difficult starting. One mechanical source suggested we had picked up some bad gas and suggested Chevron's Techron additive. I dosed the next tank gas and within a few days the problem diminished, and disappeared entirely by the second tankful.
