On the road to Kennecott Mine, Alaska.

Dodging potholes, loose gravel and moose is nothing new when driving my ’57 Thunderbird around Alaska. She’s seen a lot since bringing her to the 49th state fifteen years ago. During winters, my ride spends most of her time in a warm garage or mechanic’s shop for maintenance and updates. The exceptions are a couple of wintertime parades. But come spring, summer and fall, we hit the road to places most classic cars only dream of seeing. This includes Denali National Park, Kenai, Palmer, Hatcher Pass and beyond. This year’s long distance tour took us to McCarthy Alaska and Kennecott Mine in the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park. Kennecott Mine lived its heyday in the early part of the last century as a copper mine that generated about $100 million of profit during its lifespan (that’s two billion dollars in currency today.) At the time, Ford Model A's were a secondary form of transportation in the area with the railway being first.

The drive to McCarthy from Anchorage is 307 miles. 60 of those final miles include a partially maintained gravel road. The bumps in the road are mostly forgiven because of the sights including mountains, caribou, moose, porcupine, the magnificent Matanuska Glacier and log cabin restaurants.

My annual treks happen alongside friends who are also members of Antique Auto Mushers of Alaska (AAMA.) We’re a group of automobile preservationists who know how to make the most out of our short summers. Unofficially, our motto is “We’re an eating club with cool cars.” On this particular trip, our car collection included 20+ vehicles representing every decade from Model T’s to the 1980’s.

Aside from friendships, a benefit of this group of travelers is that, if a breakdown happens along the road and there are 12 drivers, you’re bound to have 14 solutions in mere moments. Before you know it, there’s a team of Carhartt-wearing experts leaning into any given engine compartment with every tool imaginable. Soon afterward, the beleaguered car will be rolling down the road, probably better than when it left the big city.

We departed Anchorage at 8 a.m. The drive to McCarthy would be a bit more than seven hours with a lunch break at the halfway mark. I was impressed with my ’57s gas milage which averaged 15-17 miles per gallon. Extra containers of food, tools, gas, engine oil, water and antifreeze in the trunk weighed the rear end down a touch. There are few gas stations and they are not always reliable.

My travels were interrupted near the Matanuska Glacier when I hit a bump that slightly separated the muffler from the exhaust pipe. The car was drivable but it sounded like a couple of revving muscle cars. The wildlife was not impressed. My new-found friend Phil, a 92-year old Model A driver, loaned me his car’s carbon monoxide detector “just in case.”

While driving to the next small community, hoping to find a service station with a car lift, I looked down at the CO2 detector to make sure I wasn’t in any danger. I noticed that the LED reading was blinking an alarming 75. I pulled over the the side of the road. I’m not a CO2 expert but that didn’t seem right. On closer inspection, I realized that the old-timer had given me a device that doubled as a thermometer. I saw a tiny “f” for Fahrenheit next to the flashing “75” reading. All was well and I rolled down the window to cool off the interior. I chuckled and headed to Glennallen and found a mechanic who lifted the little bird up and tightened the exhaust brackets. I asked “What do I owe you?” I was ready and happy to pay any amount. But first, we reminisced about his 1950s Ford project truck and other memories. At some point, I told him my 1957 represented my birth year in Fairbanks. In the end, he smiled and charged me an ironic $57 for his work.

Two hours later, I arrived in Chitna, 60 miles from McCarthy. Our group lodged the first evening at the Chitna Hotel. The 100-year old hotel’s history included a mixed past as a brothel, restaurant, bar and jailhouse for copper miners. It was decorated with antiques of the period throughout. Sleeping in my tiny room, I imagined the ghosts of the past century and wondered if it was the same squeaky bed used so many years ago. I tried to put that out of my mind.

Morning arrived and we began the final leg to McCarthy and Kennecott Mine. It was the longest 60 miles I’ve ever driven. At times the road was a single lane. I was glad to be the first car in our group on the road with the fear of a chipped windshield at the forefront of my thoughts. It was an exceptional once-in-a-lifetime/last-in-a-lifetime experience. The road followed the path -and in some cases on the actual rails- that the Copper River railroad used a century ago. (Most know Copper River for its tasty red salmon.)

We arrived in McCarthy that morning and stayed at Ma Johnson’s Hotel. It was located across a dirt street from the McCarthy Saloon. Our time was spent enjoying good food and drinks in the small town including places called “The Potato” and the “Salmon and Bear Restaurant” where they served a favorite breakfast item called the “Egg McPark.” During the daytime, we took walking tours through Kennecott Mine, sat around a campfire, and hiked to and walked on Root Glacier. My baby bird was happy to have the time off the road with the company of the other classic, antique and vintage automobiles.

Four days after beginning this journey, we were headed back to Anchorage. The drive back was an uneventful six hours. The days that followed were spent cleaning dust from the interior and exterior of the ’57 from top to bottom. I’m pretty sure I’ll find some McCarthy dust from this cruise in the years that follow. I love sharing my car with others and keeping the past in the present. Some dirt is part of the price. There are extra costs with maintenance and upkeep when taking a driver like this on the roads of Alaska. It’s worth every mile, memory and wave along the way.