My step-grandfather on the cover of Outdoor Life for his skill at varmint calling. After helping build the Alaska pipeline he escaped to the woods and became a trapper, landing on a cheap piece of land in what later became the Wrangell St. Elias National Park.

He names all of his dogs Buddy. This one eats out of an old gold mining pan and they toast bear meatballs for him over the barrel stove. When he’s lucky, John will come across a carcass and bring back a femur to chew on.

The closest neighbors to the homestead had two 800 lb brown bears break into their cabin. Betty-Anne took me on a four-wheeler in the pouring rain to see the damage. We wiggled two huge propane cylinders out of the way (a back-country door lock) and stepped inside. Sunday comics were strewn about, and the place was dank. I couldn’t tell if it was the bears or if that was just the normal state of things there. Audubon guidebooks filled the shelves, and an animal tail was draped around an old photo. Looking out onto the deck you could see that it wasn’t built to hold the weight of two giant animals. I didn’t get to meet Rudy, but he’s a hardy soul that I’m told still chops wood well into his 90’s.

Looking down on the damage from two grizzlies falling through the large front deck. They also ripped the door right off Rudy’s old truck.

The cabin is huge, with small and large rooms, this one being the most welcoming. Not a bad place to spend the summer.

Rudy is the nearest neighbor to the homestead. A bumpy truck ride down to the lake followed by a barely maneuverable trail by four-wheeler got us there in one - very muddy - piece. A huge propane cylinder propped against the front door acts as a deterrent.

Troy and his father fix the side-by-side that allows them to travel across the mushy tundra. Hunting season is only a few weeks away and there is endless terrain to account for. Luckily an Amazon purchase made its way with the Wednesday mail. John was utterly joyous that he could purchase what he needed so easily and receive it within a few days.

John leaves this cabin available for hunters in the area who get lost. It’s a remote wilderness without much in the way of shelter.

A very long water line pumps fresh water to the cabin. My visit coincided with wildfire season, which somehow coincided with the biggest late-summer downpour John had ever seen. In as big a state as Alaska, the two climate phenomenons can run in parallel.

My daughter won’t turn down much of anything. Wild blueberries usually stained her cheeks on this trip to the Wrangell-St. Elias homestead. Foraging is something we do for fun, but out there it’s the only option for fresh produce. The nearest store is a gas station, two hours away.

Eureka Roadhouse is the all-in-one stop for gas, food, alcohol and lodging for travelers a few hours northeast of Anchorage. The famous cinnamon bun recipe apparently comes from my step-father’s foster mom. It’s a small world in rural Alaska.

I've met only one person who was pro-Pebble Mine. We ran into him out in the recreational gold mining area outside Anchorage. He argued that fishermen are angry about the idea of the mine, yet their rods and reels are made from the material that would be mined - molybdenum. After decades of trying to push the project through it was recently shot down again by the EPA.

A moose strolls the refuge.

A brown bear cruises the sanctuary after a playful few minutes in the water with a large bone given to him by the staff.

A bird perched on the walkway at Potter Marsh just before the wildfire season kicked in full force the summer of 2019.

Wildflower at the top of Little O’malley peak.