REMEMBERING WILL ROGERS’ HOUSE-- Lost in the Palisades Fire, Los Angeles, CA

Will Rogers' House, Will Rogers State Historic Park, Los Angeles, CA.

“I never met a man I didn’t like.”—Will Rogers, cowboy, humorist, film star and commentator of the 1920s and 1930s.  He was a quintessential American.

Will Rogers’ house in Will Rogers State Park in Los Angeles, California, was one of the many victims of the recent catastrophic Palisades wildfire, which burned more than 23,000 acres and destroyed more than 1000 homes. It is gone forever. The park, with its historic house, horse stables, polo field, picnic area and hiking trails has been a favorite place to visit during the almost fifty years I have lived in Southern California. I loved the exhibits in the Visitor Center and the black and white films of Will Rogers doing rope tricks for the movies and telling jokes as a popular public speaker and commentator. I loved the guided tours of his home, filled with artifacts of his life—his saddle, colorful blankets, sculptures, and comfortable furniture. Every volunteer docent had their own stories to tell of Will Rogers and his family as they led the tour through the rooms of the house. I loved watching polo players on the field in front of the house. I loved hiking on the trails past the horse barns and corrals up to Inspiration Point, with its spectacular 360 degree view—from the Pacific Ocean to downtown Los Angeles. The wildflowers and native shrubs in the park will grow back in time, but the house and mementos of Will Rogers’ life can never be replaced. They remain only in pictures and our memories.

I have written about Will Rogers’ State Park twice on this blog, in March 2014 and June 2020. I am reposting here my report from 2014. 

Will Rogers House, Will Rogers State Park

When I have visitors in Los Angeles, one of my favorite places to take them is Will Rogers State Historic Park, the former home of the famous cowboy, humorist, film star and commentator of the 1920s and 1930s.  Tucked into the foothills of the Santa Monica Mountains just north of Sunset Boulevard, the ranch style home looks out over a broad lawn (once used by Will’s friends to practice golf) and a large field where Will and his friends played polo. The field is still used for weekend matches and occasionally we take a picnic and sit on the sidelines and watch. A short walk from the house leads to the stables where Will once kept his horses.  According to Will, “A man that don’t love a horse, there is something the matter with him.” Today one can go for horse riding lessons and trail rides in the park.

Horses in one of the corrals

On a recent Sunday when my brothers were in town, we spent an afternoon at the park.  We began at the small museum adjacent to the house.  People of our parents' generation have fond memories of listening to Will Rogers on the radio, seeing him in movies, and reading his newspaper columns, but for most of us today Will Rogers is a historical figure. Will was born in 1879 of Cherokee and European descent. He was raised on a ranch in Oklahoma where he learned to ride and rope, skills that led him to perform in Wild West shows, and eventually brought him to Hollywood. He died in an airplane crash in Alaska in 1935. In the museum are photographs and exhibits and a wonderful video showing his amazing rope tricks and clips from some of his speeches. 

At Christmas time the house is decorated by volunteers

Thursday through Sunday, volunteers lead free tours of Will Rogers’ house, providing an opportunity to see his collection of Western art, hear some of the many stories about his life, and get a sense of the casual and comfortable style of life he preferred.  Despite his fame and wealth, Will did not live the glamorous life of other movie stars of the time. Instead, he entertained with casual barbecues and sing-a-longs and decorated his house in a homey, ranch style. 

View of Los Angeles from Inspiration Point, Will Rogers State Park

After our tour we set out for a walk on the loop trail up to Inspiration Point.  Following the dirt path past the stables, we wound our way uphill.  As we passed the corrals, a few friendly horses came over for a pat on the nose. Although the trail is not strenuous, I chose to loop the other way and met the rest of the group on their way back down.  I have been to the top many times and the view of the city and Pacific Ocean is impressive.

Will Rogers lived on the ranch from 1926 to 1935

Perhaps Will Rogers’ most famous quip was: “I never met a man I didn’t like.” His house and ranch reflect his generous spirit and love of the outdoors. After Will Rogers died, his daughter donated the house and ranch to the state of California so that it would be preserved as a state park. We are lucky she did.
For directions and information about visiting the park go to www.parks.ca.gov/willrogers .

MOUNTAINS, GRIZZLIES AND MAGIC, the "Real Alaska" Part 2, Guest Post by Nora Gould

Fireweed in bloom on the Kenai Peninsula, Alaska

My friend Nora and her husband Frank went on a memorable trip to Alaska in August, 1996. Nora recalled the trip in a recent essay she wrote for Kendalights, a literary magazine published by the retirement community where she lives in Lyme, New Hampshire. She has graciously given me permission to reprint it for readers of The Intrepid Tourist. Nora and Frank's trip brought back memories of a similar trip to Alaska that Art and I took in 2002. Unfortunately, the photos of Nora's trip were lost when her computer crashed. I have used our photos as a substitute to illustrate her report.
Last week was Part 1. Here is part 2:

The next morning Frank rents a car and assures me that the trip will only get better.

“A lot better if it is to compete with North Face Lodge,” I say.

We drive to Seward. (The town is named for Secretary of State William H. Seward. At the time of Alaska’s purchase from the Russians in 1867, it was called “Seward’s Folly.” It cost 7.2 million dollars.) Seward is only slightly bigger than Lyme, New Hampshire. Seward is a gray town, and it appears that every other commercial building houses an Evangelical church. It is on the Kenai Peninsula on the Gulf of Alaska. We are there because Frank has never met a fjord he didn’t like. Early the next morning we board a small ship to take us to see the fjords. The ship has barely left port before we are seriously rocking and rolling. Within an hour Frank and I are the only people on the ship who are not sick. The captain announces that we are in 12-foot seas and are heading back to Seward. On our return, we see a cruise ship anchored in the harbor towering over the town. We leave Seward for Homer that afternoon.

Homer harbor

Homer is another seaport town but a little livelier than Seward. On arrival we are guided to an incoming boat. Michael McBride, owner of Kachemak Bay Wilderness Lodge, has come personally to take us to his lodge. During the 30-minute trip Michael says, “There are twelve guests and ten naturalists at the lodge. We can arrange just about anything that you want to see or do.”

Bird Island on way to Kachemak Bay

Mike and Frank compare their experiences in the Service. Mike was a career Air Force officer. He retired and opened the lodge. Once again, we are fed a wonderful meal upon arrival, then shown to our cabin located above China Poot Bay and looking down on amazing scenery. Soon we are sleeping soundly.

Halibut Cove in Kachemak Bay

It is hard to describe the pure magic of Kachemak. The tidal pools, the hikes, the sea otters, the bird islands, and the friendly, knowledgeable staff all combine to make this experience unique. Each day we choose an activity and have one-on-one service.

Sea Otter

I spend a morning on a motorboat looking for and finding sea otters. Another day we fish for salmon. We are not alone—the bears, eagles, young eaglets, and flies are feeding on dying salmon.

Bald Eagles are common in Alaska

The richness of nature at Kachemak and the way the McBrides are preserving the wilderness is inspiring.

Before we leave, Frank decides that he would like Mike to fly him up to the lake owned by the lodge. He and Mike will camp out and then fish the lake in the morning. I curl up with an enjoyable book after going to the tidal pool to photograph starfish the size of dinner plates.

View of Kachemak Bay

The next day we fly home filled with memories of Alaska. Whether it is the “real Alaska” is open to question. However, what we experienced was a wonderful portion of it.

MOUNTAINS, GRIZZLIES AND MAGIC, the "Real Alaska" Part 1, Guest Post by Nora Gould

Denali National Park, Alaska

My friend Nora and her husband Frank went on a memorable trip to Alaska in August, 1996. Nora recalled the trip in a recent essay she wrote for Kendalights, a literary magazine published by the retirement community where she lives in New Hampshire. She has graciously given me permission to reprint it for readers of The Intrepid Tourist. Nora and Frank's trip brought back memories of a similar trip to Alaska that Art and I took in 2002. Unfortunately, the photos of Nora's trip were lost when her computer crashed. I have used a few of our photos as a substitute to illustrate her report.

My husband Frank loves to travel and spends a lot of time designing the perfect trips for us. In 1996 both of us were still working, Frank as an orthodontist, I as a school principal. We had arranged for a two-week vacation as Frank planned our trip to Alaska.

On August 1^st, Frank suggested that I pack warm clothes and hiking boots. “Won’t I need a few dresses for dinner on the boat?” I asked. “No, no boat. I’ve designed a different trip. We’re going to see the real Alaska,” he said.

I always thought the perfect vacation involved sand and warm weather. Ideally, the sand would be on the coast of New Jersey, and there would be excellent restaurants within walking distance of our shore-front house. Not this time.

Denali. Susan Butcher was the first musher to summit Denali (Mount McKinley) with her dogsled.

We fly to Fairbanks. It feels like a frontier town, a working guys’ town. We spend the night in a modest motel. The next morning Frank leads me to the Chena River where we board a paddle steamer. There are lots of tourists on board. We paddle and steam along the river noting the dense woods on either side. Suddenly eight dogs emerge from the woods, pulling a sled. A young woman is driving. Her name is Susan Butcher. She tells us that she has raced with her dog team in the 1,150-mile Iditarod and won four times. Susan talks about her training methods with her dogs, which are year-long. Susan and her husband train dogs at their kennel, Trail Breakers, near Fairbanks. She is gracious and answers all the questions asked by the passengers. A few years after this, I read her obituary in the New York Times. She had died of leukemia at age 51 after a heroic battle.

Entrance to Denali National Park. Private cars are not allowed inside the park. The only way to see the park is on an organized bus tour.

The paddle boat cruises back to Fairbanks. We board a train the following morning. Frank recommends that I wear my hiking boots for the two-hour ride on the Alaska Railroad. We arrive at a small station and find buses waiting for us. Frank points me and my suitcase to the bus that says North Face Lodge. As we board, the driver says, “We’ll be traveling 98 miles into the park to the lodge. That is farther than any of the other buses go.

On the bus to North Face Lodge

North Face Lodge is very old and has the only sleeping accommodations in the park. It has 15 rooms and no plan to expand. [Note: Since 1996 North Face Lodge has expanded to a second site but it is still small.] The lodge is full. There are four industrialist and their wives from Milan, Italy. There are serious photographers and other couples who like adventure.

Blueberries and small plants are typical of the tundra

After lunch we break up into groups for hiking. Frank opts for a long, challenging hike. I choose the least strenuous over the tundra. It is springy underfoot because it rests on permafrost. The vegetation is composed of dwarf shrubs, sedges, grasses, mosses, lichens and rare trees. You never go out without a guide. There are 350 grizzly bears in the park. The wolf population is smaller, only 100. Earlier, from the bus window, we saw a bear crossing the road. On my leisurely walk we see only a badger. His size surprises me—he’s bigger than I expected.

Hiking in Denali

The next day we choose to stay together on a five-mile hike through the park with a guide. About twelve people are in our group. The Italian wives all have very chic hiking outfits. My outfit might be described as utilitarian. Our hike takes us to the Nenana River. It has creamy-colored water because its source is the Nenana Glacier. We take off our boots and socks and run across this frigid river. As we are hiking down toward the lodge, Frank and the guide spot a large, male grizzly heading in our direction.

Grizzly bear

The guide says, “Okay now, I want you all to stand as close together as you can. We need to look formidable to the grizzly.” We follow his directions immediately. The large, brown grizzly is known to the guide. He is about 100 yards from us, running fast, as though on a mission. He has no interest in us.

The lodge, the people, and the guided hikes are so interesting that we choose to stay a few more nights. One thing we have not seen, due to fog and mist, is Denali, at 20,310 feet, the highest mountain in North America. The next day I hear excited voices outside. “Guarda! Guarda! C’e la montagna!”

Denali viewed from Mirror Lake

I go out in the courtyard to see what is happening. The Italians point toward the mountain. The fog has lifted, and we now see the majestic mountain. It is so near to us that it takes my breath away. We are all laughing and congratulating one another.

A flight around Denali

That evening Frank takes a flight in a small plane around the top of the mountain. I choose not to fly. My brother, who is a Navy pilot, has warned me off small planes and high mountains.

Early in the morning of the fifth day we leave North Face Lodge. The bus has not gone far before we stop—the road is blocked by a mama grizzly and her two cubs. She stands on her hind legs and watches the bus and us. She must be eight feet tall. After a few minutes she signals to the cubs, and they go off into a nearby field where we see caribou grazing.

Caribou

 This is what Frank meant by the “real Alaska” I think to myself.

Look for the second half of Nora's report next week.

REINDEER SEASON

Reindeer, Talkeetna, Alaska

Everyone knows that Santa’s sleigh is pulled by eight tiny reindeer that fly through the sky.  But in the real world, reindeer are large animals that live on the ground.  With sturdy bodies, thick coats, and broad feet that keep them from slipping on snow and ice, they are perfectly adapted to the harsh climate of the far north that is their native home. We had a chance to see a small herd of domestic reindeer on our trip to Alaska in 2002. It was summer and the reindeer were contentedly munching grass and leaves inside an enclosure.  (In the wild, reindeer feed on mosses and lichens that grow on the tundra.) So, even though the weather was mild, we could imagine what it might be like in winter.

Traditionally, the Sami of Lapland and other native peoples of the far north hunted wild reindeer and tamed them. They used them to pull sleds, as pack animals, and for meat and milk. They made clothes, shoes, blankets and tents from reindeer hides. They shaped reindeer bones and antlers into tools. They followed the herds of reindeer as they went between their summer and winter homes. Today, most Sami stay in one place year round. They no longer follow the reindeer herds but some keep reindeer on farms and raise them for their meat and hides.

If you live in Los Angeles you can see reindeer close-up at the Los Angeles Zoo during the holiday season at the annual Reindeer Romp.  This year the reindeer will be visiting from November 28 to January 4.

ALASKA IN WINTER: Anchorage and Valdez

Anchorage, Alaska.  View from jogging trail

Most people don’t go to Alaska in the winter unless they are into winter sports, are fans of the Ititarod, or, in my case, attending a conference.  But, if you do go to Alaska in the winter time, the scenery is spectacular and there is plenty to do both inside and out.  I spent a week in Alaska at the end of March–going to Valdez for a library conference and then spending several days in Anchorage afterwards.  I enjoyed the chance to see Alaska in the snow and was reminded of my childhood winters in Minnesota when snow and cold weather were just a normal part of daily life.  I actually arrived in Anchorage on the first calendar day of spring, and although warm weather doesn’t arrive until much later, the days during my visit were twelve hours long just as they are on the equinox in the rest of the world.

Frozen Waterfall, near Valdez

From Anchorage I flew to Valdez, a tiny town at the head of a narrow fiord in Prince William Sound. It was a crystal clear day and as the plane threaded its way through the mountains I could see every detail, including the oil terminal on the shore just outside of town.  The next morning, however, it began to snow and didn’t stop for the next three days. (Valdez is famous for being the snowiest place in Alaska.  The record, set in 1989/90, is 560.7 inches–that’s 46 feet!)  Not surprisingly, all flights in and out of Valdez were cancelled, and my trip back to Anchorage was by bus, a seven hour journey over the Thompson pass, past frozen waterfalls and beautiful snow covered valleys.

Fly an hour or walk a week!  100 years of aviation in Alaska

In Anchorage I stayed at the historic Anchorage Hotel, which is in the heart of downtown and within walking distance of shops, restaurants, art galleries, and the Anchorage Museum.  The museum is huge and I spent the better part of a day there, first taking the elevator up to the fourth floor, which is a gallery of contemporary Alaskan art and has windows looking out to the Chugach Mountains that surround the city.  On the third floor, I found a group of school children exploring the exhibit Arctic Flight: A Century of Alaskan Aviation, which chronicles the importance of the airplane in almost every aspect of Alaskan life.

Inupiaq artifacts including Aqlitiik (dance mittens)

The second floor of the museum has two parts, a huge Smithsonian Arctic Studies Center with exhibits about the many native groups that live in Alaska with displays of clothing, tools, masks, and other items; and the Alaska history gallery which includes everything from Alaska’s prehistoric history to the present day.  The large atrium of this wing of the museum is surrounded by a gallery which happened to have displays of the most amazing art by children in Alaska’s schools.  I ate lunch in the Muse Café at the front of the museum, which has excellent food and a view onto the plaza.

Model of Troodon dinosaur at the Alaska Science Museum

I also visited the Alaska Museum of Science and Nature in Anchorage.  This smaller, privately funded museum, is away from downtown (I took a bus) and has a wide assortment of displays, but specializes in geology and fossils, especially Alaskan dinosaurs.  I was delighted to find many of the dinosaurs I had written about in my book Global Warming and the Dinosaurs:  Fossil Discoveries at the Poles.

Alaska railroad terminal in Anchorage

My last day in Anchorage was as sunny and beautiful as the first, except that the city now had a new blanket of snow.  My hotel was not far from the bicycle/walking trail that goes along Cook Bay.  I walked down the trail part way and was passed by a cross-country skier–definitely the best way to go!  My trip to Alaska was a taste of winter. I had brought warm clothes and sturdy boots so I was comfortable in the outdoors.  I have been to Alaska one other time–in July–so I was glad to have the chance to see it in a different season.

To find out more about the conference I went to in Valdez and my library visits in Wasilla and Anchorage go to my April 10th post at Caroline Arnold Art and Books.

Along the road between Valdez and Anchorage

Window Seat: One Year Anniversary of The Intrepid Tourist

Wetlands of Northern Canada

One year ago this week,  I launched my first post on The Intrepid Tourist, a report on our family’s visit to the Battle of Gettysburg in 1997.  Since then, I have posted a new article once a week (actually sometimes two) for a total of 54 posts, on trips both recent and in the past.  I have been gratified by the response–more than 5000 views in the past year!  When I decided to create the blog, my first choice for a name was Window Seat, but a quick web search revealed that it was already in use many times over, so I had to choose another name.  Nevertheless, I will always be a window seat traveler.

Alaska: Meandering River in Winter

When I travel by car, I like to look out the window and watch the passing scenery.  In an airplane, I love to look down and try to identify the features in the landscape below.  (I also like planes where there is a real-time map screen on the back of the seat in front of me labeling the towns and cities along the route.)  While you can have somewhat the same experience simply by sitting at your computer and clicking on Google Earth, it’s not the same as being there yourself moving through space and time.  Even on routes that I travel frequently, the view constantly changes depending on weather, season, and time of day.  Winter often produces some of the most dramatic scenery.

Midwestern U.S., Crop Circles in Winter

I am frequently tempted to take photos from my window seat to try to capture the drama of the view or the pattern on the ground. In celebration of the one year anniversary of this blog, and to launch a second year of posts, I am sharing a few of my favorite window seat photos, the last one taken by my husband Art just a few weeks ago.   

Art's photo of Greenland from 35,000 feet

There is nothing like changing your point of view to gain a new perspective.  That’s one of the reasons I like to travel.  I hope you enjoy my photos and will keep reading The Intrepid Tourist as I add more articles in the second year.  I'll post some more window seat photos along the way.
I’d love to hear what you think!