Going Native in Anchorage

See as much of the state as possible. Take advantage of any day the sun is out to hike, bike, or kayak.

Quick Tips:

Take lots of photos and bring lots of cash.

Best Way To Get Around:

Having a car is essential in order to visit areas outside of Anchorage.

Although located in proximity to downtown Anchorage, the Manor is hidden on a side road near the outskirts of the city. This remote location adds to the secluded and romantic nature of the property.

The rooms and suites are individually decorated and in some cases, have fireplaces. There's an outdoor jacuzzi tub which overlooks the wooded property, as well as a large indoor sitting area. Breakfast is served in the morning by the Manor's friendly and knowledgeable hosts.

The Glacier Brewhouse was voted the best brewpub in Anchorage -- that says it all. It's the local favorite for seafood and for beer -- their selection of both is incredible.

Located on the Cook inlet, this casual seafood restaurant and bar has a nice view of the water. The seafood, of course, is excellent. Also, try the green apple martinis.

In 10 days spent touring the southern central portion of Alaska, I saw that much of the state retains the small town America vibe that is rapidly diminishing elsewhere. The American spirit is strong within the pioneering men and women that make this rugged landscape their home. This was evidenced by countless American flags seen while traveling through Alaskan cities and towns. It appears that Alaskans have a great deal of patriotism, despite having been denied statehood for so many years.

People are different here than they are in what locals term the Lower 48, but they are friendly. They consider this the land of extremes; and such a land can be an ordeal for an outsider, especially one traveling alone. Although the major roads are paved, they're under construction throughout the summer to undo the damage caused by the sub -zero winter conditions that prevail nearly nine months of the year, and by the permafrost - the permanently frozen ground underneath the roads that creates unexpected bumps. And just to make the land of extreme driving that little bit more intense, add the fact that the highways are two-lane constantly curving roads where RVs pass you while you're going 60 mph uphill around a curve and there's no way of knowing if anyone's in the other lane.

Still, they come from all over to live here. I spoke to one bartender from the east coast who drove cross-country before winding up in Anchorage. He drove through California, Oregon and Washington and then hit severe winter weather while struggling to make it into Anchorage. He figured that if his battered down car and battered-down soul could survive the extreme winter trek, he'd be able to handle life in Alaska. That was a winter ago and he's still there.

Others end up in Alaska pursuing the dream of a different life. Angel once lived in my home state of Florida. Years ago, she came to Alaska on vacation intending to stay for a month. She's now the co-owner of a tour company running monster truck tours of the backcountry wilderness of Denali National Park.

But I wanted to know what constitutes the day to day lives of Alaskans. And, yes, I was curious as to whether men really do outnumber women. I also wondered what impact the combination of an extreme climate and outrageously disproportionate male: female ratio would have on socializing between the sexes. Well, ok, maybe I was just wondering about all those single Alaskan men. But, more than that, I wanted to know who Alaskans really are and what makes them want to live here. Especially in Anchorage, the largest city in the largest state. With a quarter of a million residents and a median age of 32, these fun loving and friendly people must find something to do when the sun finally sets.

Downtown Anchorage is at the crossroads between a big city and a small town. It’s larger than a one intersection Main Street U.S.A. town, but not as big as the typical downtown area in a major city. Also, the lack of chain retail establishments and fast food restaurants surely reinforce its small townedness. No golden arches, Walgreens or Starbucks that frequent the bustling streets of downtown in many a major metropolis. Instead, downtown Anchorage has clean streets with baskets of flowers hanging from its streetlamps and hiking trails meandering along the outskirts of the city, tempting the curious traveler to venture out to behold the not so distant mountains.

So it was that I found myself alone in Anchorage on a Friday night. The one person I knew who lived in Anchorage was 300 miles away visiting her boyfriend. So I had 72 hours to spend in the city and figured there must be a better option than wasting the evening hours with room service and pay-per-view movies. Besides, I was told that Alaskans are friendly by nature and figured that I could find something more entertaining than a club sandwich and an in room movie with which to while away the hours.

I began my foray into the Anchorage social scene with dinner at local seafood favorite Simon and Seafort's. This popular restaurant and bar located near the water at the edge of downtown is supposed to draw a large upscale professional crowd. There was certainly a packed house and with a wait of over an hour for a table, I decided to forgo a solitary meal in a booth and instead chose to squeeze in by the bar.

I chatted with a bartender from my hometown of Miami. He told me that he moved here after college and that he doesn't miss home at all. I found it strange that he didn’t at least miss the sunshine as I knew I certainly did, especially after a week of cloud covered skies. Unfortunately, I couldn’t continue the chat with the erstwhile Floridian as the bar was as packed as the restaurant. But he did fix me a fantastic apple martini served in a sugar rimmed glass.

It was still early, about 9:30pm, and things were pretty quiet. At least, that's what I was told by the long-haired black-clad bouncer at the Alley, a dive bar on 5th Street. He said that most people in Anchorage stayed out enjoying the sunshine and daytime pursuits and that nightlife didn’t begin until after 11 pm. He promised me free admission if I returned later to listen to a live local band. I told him I'd think about it and strolled onward.

I decided to check out the Hilton sports bar, where an Anchorage native and bartender suggested I head over to Chilkoot Charlies, the allegedly world-renowned and locally notorious place to see Anchorage in action. But after a couple of more drinks, including an on-the-house Welcome to Alaska cocktail, driving was not an option. Fortunately, there are many nightspots within walking distance in the compact downtown area.

My Anchorage pub crawl began with the small yet popular F Street Station around the corner from the Hilton. I began chatting with R and T, two airline mechanics, who appeared to be above the Anchorage mean age of 32. But these two guys, one married, one single, had plenty to say about the place they call home.

For a start, they didn't think much of Alaskan women. The single guy, T., said that even women with 30 extra pounds would have no trouble finding a man in this state. Harsh unsolicited words. I pointed out that the women in the bar were not unattractive. "Out of towners" replied R and T, laughing.

R apparently had little luck with local ladies and, in his own words, had "imported" his wife. Yes, I was also thinking mail-order bride, but R simply meant that he had met his wife in the "Lower 48" and brought her back here to live with him. R also shared his friend’s belief that women were in short supply in these parts and told me that men would approach his pregnant wife when she ventured out without him. According to R, there's an Alaskan saying that you don't lose your woman, you lose your turn. That was a new one for me, as I’d been told that the saying in Alaska (as it relates to Alaskan men) is that "the odds are good, but the goods are odd!"

R didn’t fear losing his spouse or his turn and actually leaves his wife home alone for a month in the fall while he goes hunting. Perhaps he’s comfortable that his imported bride would not stray given that her options were limited to"odd goods." Then again, he views hunting as a necessity. One month’s hunting can feed his family for the entire winter. Sounded awfully prehistoric to me. After all, why hunt when there's the local Safeway or Fred Meyer from which to buy food? But R strongly adhered to the do-it -yourself approach. As he put it "why purchase food when you can go out and catch it yourself?"

It is R that tells me that Alaska is a land of extremes - extreme weather and, in most cases, extreme living conditions. Those that live here do things for themselves. R believes that Alaskans like it that way. At least R himself must, as he'd rather shoot his food than buy it.

The extreme climate appears to create the extreme living conditions. Alaskans do most of their living in the summertime. R sleeps little in the summer as there’s much to be done in preparation for the winter when everything shuts down. Between installing a new roof on the house, working full time and killing his own food, there are the plethora of outdoor activities that Alaskans pursue zealously. R plans to catch up on his sleep in the winter when there’s daylight for about five hours and tremendous snowfall for months.

Amid all this, survival of the fittest is the prevailing doctrine. It’s all about where one falls along the food chain and remembering that in Alaska, unlike most places, we are not atop the chain. Wild animals such as moose and bear, which often wander into Alaskan cities, hold that place above humans. It’s important to remember and respect that.

But survival of the fittest doesn’t mean everyone for themselves. There's a strong sense of community here. Not only is Anchorage small enough that everyone knows nearly everyone, these people depend on each other, and, hence the friendliness and hospitality that is characteristic of Alaskans. As R explained, you may need your neighbor to help pull your car out of a snowbank or to jump start your battery in the dead of winter, so it’s best to be friendly with everyone because you never know when you'll need their help.

I was quickly able to attest to this friendliness - and let’s face it, I wasn’t going to be much help dragging anyone or anything out of a snowbank. My new single friend T invited me to take a floatplane ride to Lake Hood on Tuesday. I had to decline as the thought of flying in a small plane scared me, although I had the face-saving excuse that I would be at the other end of the peninsula by Tuesday. R and T departed with T saying I should "look him up" if I changed my mind on the floatplane ride.

I bade my new friends farewell and wandered around the very crowded F. Street, watching the everyone-knows-everyone crowd clustered around tables and chatting. I then met S, an Anchorage native and professional athlete. S and his friends promised me the inside scoop on Anchorage nightlife, so I grabbed my journal and followed eagerly.

I’ve grown accustomed to the fact that people in small towns generally obey the traffic laws, especially when it comes to jaywalking. Being from Miami, where you cross the street wherever and whenever you can, not paying attention to the lights because the drivers aren't either. I have learned that most other places take the concept of jaywalking seriously. But not in Anchorage. While I patiently waited for the light at the crosswalk, S and his friends charged across the street, playing human dodge ball with a speeding pick-up. But that's life over here. Everyone has somewhere to go, especially in the summer. For us, it was the extremely popular Bernies Bungalow.

Turns out S knew everyone in Anchorage, so venturing out with him meant meeting tons of locals. All were friendly, and, with little or no prompting, were eager to share their stories about why they lived here and what they thought of the opposite sex.

There was K, a female Anchorage native, who left for a few years to attend school in the "Lower 48" but eagerly returned. She believes that life in Anchorage is better than anywhere else because it is real and lacks the superficiality, or, as she put it "the bullshit and pretense of the Lower 48." She was equally forthright on Alaskan men, describing them as "grizzly", referring to the beards worn by nearly all Alaskan men. K had to cut the conversation short as she had an early day of fishing planned. But, with characteristic Alaskan hospitality, she invited us to join her group on Sunday for a rafting trip. She was extremely jealous when someone told her about the Lake Iliamna fishing expedition they had planned for the following day. This was followed by a 15 minute discussion about the best places to go fly fishing and the best methods for tying flies in order to catch the most fish. There was no doubt I was in Alaska.

S, despite having traveled the world for competitions, said he wants to live in Anchorage, because it’s the best place in the world. Mind you, he also said that you have to travel if you live here because you need to leave the state in order to truly appreciate it. As for his ideal woman - he likes a woman who combines femininity with a love of recreational activities. In sum, one who looks good in hip boots, but who still gets a manicure every week! And, speaking of recreational activities, S told me about what he called the famous "Shag Shack." Apparently, this is a lakeside retreat with private apartments complete with a hot tub and a full bar. And who said Alaskan men aren't romantic?

Well, actually several women I talked to said just that. Two native Anchorage women simultaneously gave Alaskan males a thumbs down. In the words of one, "Alaskan men take a primitive approach to dating and make no effort at all." And, in aggregate, Alaskan men are "a bunch of classless a**. . ." Well, you get the idea. The other girl shed some light of the male/female ratio. She explained that even though there are more men than women, the women are far more attractive than the men and that the men basically want nothing more than sex and someone to take care of them. Guess that Alaskan men are not much into chivalry in the traditional sense. So much for passion and romance.

Whether or not they are passionate about each other, they are certainly passionate about their state. They love it and all it has to offer. S told me that he was taught from an early age to "get up and do something." - at least on days when the sun was out and the weather was cooperating. All this passion for life, extreme sports and seizing the moment should translate into something on a romantic level. But that's not what the women seemed to think. Then again, perhaps its just that summer is not the season of love in Alaska. After all, if people are in such a hurry in the summer to climb mountains, fish the many lakes, raft the numerous rivers and still find time to work and perform necessary repairs to their houses, well, maybe summer is not the time for any, shall we say, indoor recreation. Perhaps in winter, during those endlessly dark days and colder than chilly weather, the pace slows a bit. But, then again, there’s skiing at Alyeska, snomobiling, snowboarding and climbing the Great One, so maybe the pace doesn't fall off that much.

Despite the winter attractions, summer is high season in Alaska, and not just for tourists. W, another Anchorage native, said the two best things about Alaska are the summers and the people. W also said that, between the size of the state- 586,000 square miles, and the population- approximately 600,000, there is nearly enough land for each person to have their own square mile. W wants Alaska to remain that way and shares the view of many residents that outsiders should be discouraged from moving to his state.

Night two in Anchorage brought a return of the persistent rain. Convinced there were more stories waiting to be told, I bought an umbrella from the hotel’s gift shop and headed over to Club Paris for a quick dinner before I set out for my second night of nighttime exploration.

On to Humpy's Alaskan Alehouse, an Anchorage tradition and recommendation of the Club Paris bartender. Smack in the middle of downtown, Humpy's was packed with imbibing locals. Once I got over the name, the initial tredipation of walking unescorted into a semi-dark, sawdust -on -the -floor indoor/outdoor bar packed with groups of people (mostly men) and the techno music, I realized that Humpy's is one of Anchorages places to see and be seen. However, the crowd was not welcoming. I don’t mean they were hostile- no one threw chairs or shot me dirty looks, but all were engrossed in their groups. So after wandering around, drink in hand, unsuccessfully looking for a place to sit , I decided to move along. I finished my drink and left Humpy's in the dust, so to speak. I passed by Darwin's Theory, which appeared to be a bunch of downcast drunken men sitting around. This was obviously the reject bin of natural selection, and was no place for a single woman, even an intrepid solo-traveler/writer. Ditto for Rumrunners. Club Millennium is an underage place so I crossed that off my list as well. F. Street was an option, but I didn't want to be repetitive, so I went down the street to the Hilton to get more recommendations from my old friend P the bartender.

P suggested the Top of the World Lounge upstairs at the hotel because there was a famous hockey player up there. Although chatting with hockey players would probably not shed much light on Alaskans’ romantic predilections, I decided to check it out anyway, as the only other option was to walk solo along the cold damp street in the continuously falling rain.

Upstairs at the Top of the World, I found no hockey players, but did run into D - a guy I’d met the previous night. Small town. D, a tour guide with Princess Tours, introduced me to two of his friends, M and K, whom I hadn't met the previous night.

The guys promised me some great stories if I'd agree to drink a flaming Sambuca shot. I would have had no trouble with this normally, but it appeared that they wanted to reverse the order of things. I'd understood that flaming shots are lit first and then drunk. But apparently in Alaska, such practices requires greater challenges. The guys proposed that I take the shot and they would light it while it was in my mouth. Ignoring the obvious double entendres and lures of great journalistic pieces, I balked at the idea of a drunken stranger placing a match anywhere near me. However, being brave, or stupid, or perhaps drunk myself, I finally agreed. Bad idea. Not only do I dislike Sambuca, the initial heat from the match startled me and in a reflex action, I spit out the shot. The guys were unimpressed and probably decided then and there that I was not cut out for life in Anchorage. But they were good sports and invited me on another night of bar hopping.

Next stop, predictably, was F Street Station, where we ran into the rest of the group from the previous night. The trip to the coveted fishing spot had been postponed due to the incessantly inclement weather so the guys were back in Anchorage for the evening.

D appeared to be an atypical Alaskan guy. He told me about his long-distance girlfriend, whom he was eagerly waiting to see in less than two days. And the girls from the previous night would be pleased to know that this Alaskan man is a true gentleman. He even held my umbrella for me while we walked in the rain, to the jeering of his other friends. Apparently, Alaskan men don't use umbrellas. Actually, no one in Alaska does.

Since F Street had not changed in the past 24 hours, D and co. suggested that we check out Chilkoot Charlies. The alleged most popular spot in town and I still hadn't been there.

Chilkoots is, well, your typical local pick-up spot, except that there are far more men than women, and, perhaps for this reason, this place was less ‘pick-up’ than most. It was mostly men drinking and complaining about how hard it is to meet a woman in Alaska. As K put it, most were so used to getting shot down time and again by the small group of women in this town that they wouldn't even bother approaching them. Ouch. But that's the directness of Alaskans for you. They tell it like it is. None of the "bullshit and pretense of the Lower 48." The people are real here.

Night two gave me quite a different, and more favorable perspective on Alaskan men. D's the all-around nice guy who will kill me for printing this but who keeps in touch with his two year long-distance love through letters and poetry. His friend K is an air force engineer and also a pilot who loves all the outdoorsy Alaskan stuff. He said that was the problem with most of the Alaskan women he meets: they don’t enjoy doing all the outdoors stuff that makes this state what it is and would rather spend time indoors in places like Charlie's. He can’t understand why anyone would want to spend their time in a dark and smoky bar when there's such better things to do. K prefers overnight camping trips to drinking binges. Personally, I couldn't understand why a woman would prefer to hang at Charlies than share a tent with this guy, but that's just the outsider's perspective.

All in all, Alaska is the land of extremes, where people are real, scenery is indescribable and there's no place for the "bullshit and pretense of the Lower 48." Tourists come here to gawk, adventurous souls to challenge themselves and others to escape and lead a different kind of life. The locals are friendly, but aren't encouraging many to move here. As W put it, he wants to keep his square mile for himself. So come stay for a while, spend lots of money, and then one of the friendly locals will gladly give you a ride to the airport for your departure.