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 trepidation 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 Anchorage's 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 the bartender.

He 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.

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 require 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.

Night two gave me quite a different, and more favorable perspective on Alaskan men. D's the all-round 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.

Feedback
"As a male living in Alaska for 22 years, this author hit the nail on the head. Most men here feel the same as her interview subjects. The women tend to be spoiled and are always looking for a BBD: Bigger Better Deal. So is it any wonder that the men here have stopped being romantic? It just doesn't pay, unless of course you want to settle for the easy toothless native woman in from the bush looking for men to buy her booze. Most men stay in Alaska for the money, the fishing/hunting and the solitude from the outdoors he gets after he has had his fill of the women of Anchorage." Michael Schramm

"As a woman living in Alaska for twenty-five years I felt your article hit on some truths, but the men in Alaska are not user-friendly except in bars, and I don't hang out in bars. Women fly their own planes, fish, hunt and explore the wilderness, and that's where you find them. Alaskan women enjoy the freedom as much as the guys, we test ourselves and that's why we're here. There is a lack of contact and communication between the two groups because they don't travel in the same circles. Maybe if the men took a second look at the camouflage in the tree, or the fisherperson downstream they would be surprised. I would faint if a guy just walked up to me and asked me how the fish are biting to start a conversation while I'm fishing. Perhaps their expectations are critical because they have not pursued all the options or taken the risk. Hey guys we are out here, not in a bar, and not spoiled, just down to earth, and that's where you'll find us, not a smoky bar." Helen Allison

"Your first mistake... looking for Alaska in a bar. We're all out fishing (either salmon, trout or ice fishing). Men and women both. So get a pole and meet us at the fishing hole." Lynne Schlumpf

"Wow, so much to comment on here, but I'll keep it simple. If you want a drunk, pick 'em up at the bar, a fisherman, the river, a bad boy, the prison. Hmmm... at this point, I just want to meet one with a job, a car, and place where he doesn't pay his rent to his mom! Where do I go to find that?" Darlene H.