During a travel talk recently, I listed my five favorite cities and received nods of understanding on the first four and blank stares on the fifth–Nome, Alaska. So, here’s why.

Nome’s grab-your-lapels distinctive because it’s 102 miles from the Arctic Circle and 161 miles from Russia.  Nome, home to 4,500 hardy souls and end-of-roaders, is, among many other things, a bird watchers’ Garden of Eden.   From Memorial Day to July 1, that is.  That’s when rare species that winter in Asia can be seen in abundance.  These are birds that are spotted nowhere else in North America.  Erasable boards in Nome for this brief time record sightings of such rarities as the Rufous-necked Stint and the Bristle-thighed Curlew.

We rented a tough-as-tundra Bronco from Stampede Car Rental and set out to explore 300 glorious miles of mostly gravel but well maintained road.  One took us to Council, a summer retreat for Alaskans with a river between the end of the road and the town.  Area people like Council because it’s a place for them to actually see trees.  There are few of those in Nome, mostly beyond scraggly Siberian larches and struggling cottonwoods.  The road to Council wound through mountains like no others I have seen.  The only problem was, when we stopped to take in the eerie landscape, mosquitos the size of hummingbirds simultaneously decided it was time for lunch.

The second road took us to Teller, a native village about 70 miles north of Nome and the place where Roald Amundsen concluded the first over-the-pole flight in 1926.  We didn’t overtake or even see a single vehicle either going to Teller or coming back to Nome.

The third road had lake and mountain vistas and terminated in Kougarok near Pilgrim Hot Springs, a once popular place that’s on the National Register of Historic Places but unfortunately has been closed to the public since 2009.

We were in Nome in early July and the most surreal experience I had (among many) was waking up from a strange dream at 3:30 am because my subconscious heard voices.  Due to curtains, it was completely dark in the room, but I looked out the window to find it was like twilight, that time just after the sun disappears over the horizon, and a clutch of natives with children was strolling down the street.  I wondered if they stayed awake all summer and hibernated, like the grizzlies up in the Kigluaik Mountains, in the winter.

Maybe I’ll go the Iditarod next March and find out.  They’ll use the Northern Route in 2012 for this famous race that ends in Nome and commemorates the arrive of lifesaving serum in 1925’s diphtheria epidemic.

The locals say, “There’s no place like Nome.”   They say it with irony, but I say it with awe.

Hank

Shaped like a comfortable, beat up loafer, Molokai is the most Hawaiian of the Hawaiian Islands and the least developed.  The hula was invented here.  More than half of the residents claim native blood.

Visitors will definitely need a car to explore its 38 mile length and ten-mile width, but they can see every attraction on half a tank of gas.

The western half of Molokai looks like central Wyoming but kind of scuffed from the many enterprises that have been tried but failed here–cattle, honey, pineapples.

Three volcanos, all now extinct, shaped Molokai.   Along the Island’s north shore are the tallest sea cliffs in the world caused by upthrust and volcanic activity.   One volcano spilled lava into the ocean and made the loafer’s tongue stick out.  The result is a round, isolated peninsula.  The Kingdom of Hawaii created a leper colony here in 1865.  People diagnosed with what is now called Hansen’s Disease were taken to Molokai by boat and literally dropped overboard.  Father Damien, born Joseph De Veuster, worked here until he died of the now treatable disease after 16 years of making life better for the inhabitants.

The colony can be visited today.   There are only 3 ways to access it–fly in, hike down a rough trail, or ride a mule down that same trail with 26 switchbacks and many breathtaking views.  Ruth and I did the last one and it was truly one of those 0nce-in-a-lifetime great experiences.

Kaunakakai, the only real town, resembles the set of a 1920s silent, western movie.  Like everything on Molokai, it’s humble and understated.  While here, drive out onto Molokai’s tiny wharf, which just happens to be the longest in Hawaii, and you’ll find only a few modest boats at its end.

King Kamehameha V, the last of his royal lineage, loved Molokai and vacationed here where he had a showy ten-acre coconut palm grove planted. The trees survive and you will too if you don’t stand under them.

The drive to Molokai’s east end passes native fish ponds, a 28 mile barrier reef, the only one in Hawaii, and a few tiny villages with very old missionary churches.  But suddenly the road narrows to one lane and shoots upward with many switchbacks ending with a lovely overlook.

If you ‘d like to learn more about Molokai, please let me know and I’ll write more about this overlooked place where you can have an authentic Hawaiian experience, eat Macadamia nuts just pulled from the tree, and ride a mule.

Hank