We started the day at the small cabin in Paxson. The family that runs the lodge hosts a breakfast each morning — Audie stuck around as we ate to fill us in on some interesting details. He, his wife, and their 2-year-old son are the sole inhabitants of downtown Paxson. The town was founded in 1905 by Allan Paxson as one of the first non-native communities. By the 60s, Paxson was home to nearly 80 people. The largest employer in the area was the Paxson Lodge, a roadhouse which was this town’s multi-business, which we’ve become very familiar with — this one was the inn, bar, restaurant, dance hall, tire shop, gas station, and local hangout. It was the only stop on the Richardson Highway between Glennallen and Delta Junction. The business was sold in the late 90s and the new owners failed the business and it closed in the mid 00s, leaving nothing left of Paxson but the cabins we stayed at and their hosts.
On our way out, we decided to poke around. Who doesn’t love a good abandoned building?
I even wandered upstairs, against my better judgement. As I was poking around, suddenly I heard a man’s voice mumbling from down the hall, something about “not ready” and “upstairs.” I knew I went upstairs alone, so I quickly but quietly flew back down and demanded to know where Evan and George were. I found Evan in the ballroom, and he told me that George was outside. And if he had done anything just to screw with me, he’d be trying not to laugh — and he was not laughing.
It’s time to go. We’re going right now.
With what little composure I could keep together, I jumped down the porch rail into the parking lot to a confused George.
I went upstairs, someone started talking at me, Evan was in the ballroom, you’re outside — where have you been? Was that you?
George looked surprised, he hadn’t even gone inside yet. Then Evan wandered out, with his camcorder going.
Were you narrating? That was you, wasn’t it? Did you follow me upstairs?
Safely outside, Evan denied having gone upstairs, but we did put together that he had found a back stairwell that I hadn’t seen. He got up to the first landing and said into the recording, “No, I think I’m not ready to go upstairs” and turned back. The video recording of the whole affair was actually pretty amusing once I knew that I wasn’t about to be chased out of an abandoned hotel by a meth-head with a board full of nails.
Regardless, I opted not to go back in, thusly solidifying Paxson Lodge in my memory as a haunted house. We got on the road. For the first twenty miles, the Denali Highway was paved, and it weaved up the mountains to above this region’s timberline — just over 4,000 feet due to the latitude. It is the second highest pass road in Alaska. Such a different view than the boreal forests we’ve seen so far.
Then we got to the unpaved section. Which was the almost-all-of-it.
It was rough as hell and rattled new rattles into each of our cars. But worth it. Probably best all-around scenic views of any drive day so far. And that’s a bold statement.
Then we stopped off at one of the few remaining roadhouses on the route.
It was a cash-only air-fryer/microwave kinda joint which appeared to have only one employee, but he made a surprisingly good burger and fries combo for how little he had to work with. On the satellite tv muzac, Johnny Cash’s One Piece at a Time started playing. It was a very “this is our trip” moment.
And shortly after, we found a pretty amazing viewpoint, which I thinks serves as the best group photo spot we’ve seen yet!
On the other side of the Denali Highway, we landed in the Denali State Park for a hike up Ermine Hill along some creeks and a waterfall. Unfortunately, the whole day had been rather overcast so the “magnificent views” of Mt. Denali had been somewhat oversold, but the area was still gorgeous and other mountains were out.
This evening’s overnight is inside the State Park at a small cluster of cabins. We didn’t have enough car snacks to constitute a meal so we went looking for food at… the special hell.
The only restaurant within 50 miles was 10 miles away at a resort run by Princess Cruises and Resorts. You know the place: entirely full of people, no one eating there or working there is from the area, its walls are laden with kitchy fake local sporting equipment as decoration (climbing gear, in this instance), and there’s not much in the way of whiskey. But to be fair — the food was quite good and surprisingly moderately priced given the captive audience situation.
And the boys even rode down there with me in the Celica!
And, on the way there, the mountain came out, everso briefly, to tease me because I left my Nikon in the cabin. But what a spectacular sight!
Unfortunately, as I noted when it happened, the Celica decided to chose this moment, on the way back from dinner — in front of an audience of hecklers — to do this:
Back at the cabins, we tried to read the tea leaves of the Celica’s service manual as we we reflected on our final drive day ahead, taking us through Anchorage down to Seward on the peninsula.
