Alaska

The administration used economic stimulus money to pay for 50 airport projects that didn't meet the criteria for the $1.1 billion in grant money, a government watchdog said. Among the projects that Transportation Department Inspector General Calvin Scovel said didn't measure up was $14 million that went to replace an airfield in Akiachak, Alaska, a town of 659 residents. The town has a seaplane and is only 14 nautical miles from the state's fourth-busiest airport. Another Alaska town, Ouzinkie, population 167, got nearly $15 million to replace its gravel runway.

Ken Burns' PBS series "The National Parks: America's Best Idea" shines a spotlight on our great natural treasures. Here are the most-visited national parks -- eight are in the West -- and the least-visited ones, where the views come with a bit more solitude. For photos, go to latimes.com/nationalparks. Source: National Park Service Numbers (rounded) through August . Damaged in the late September tsunami -- MOST VISITED National park 2008 attendance 2009 attendance 1. Great Smoky Mountains (Tenn.

When Travis Brown tells people where he lives, people don't always believe him. Hey, it's not often somebody lists the North Pole as a home address. Well, actually, North Pole, Alaska. "My hometown has always been a good conversation starter, even when it isn't Christmas," Brown, a 20-year-old Beloit College student, said Sunday. North Pole, a town of about 6,000 people, is 20 miles south of Fairbanks.

Americans with a large wall and a large interest in Alaska can now study the 49th state through a new wall map prepared by the U.S. Geological Survey. The 3-by-4-foot relief map resembles a satellite photo but was actually computer-generated. Mountains, lowlands and lakes are readily visible and the map is designed to appear as though lighted by the sun at a low angle.

The seal slithered toward us with surprising speed, propelled by flippers built primarily for swimming. Awkward but determined, it hopped and waddled across the boulder beach, toward our viewing blind. Stopping just short of the platform's plywood wall, it looked toward the opening through which I was looking out. It was a 300-pound male with long whiskers, small, tightly rolled ears (evolved to keep water out) and big brown eyes (the better to hunt down prey at night).

Out here on the mud flats of Goose Cove, about 160 miles southeast of Anchorage, physics plays games with my eyes. Refracted light makes a barrier island hover in midair and makes gulls look like giants with bony legs and beer bellies. The mirages are amusing but unnerving. I start scanning east with my binoculars, but stop abruptly to zero in on the image of a large, cresting wave. A tsunami? I lower the binoculars and squint out toward the sea. A calm, shimmering horizon winks back.

To my mind, the brown bear defines Alaska's wilderness. Maybe it's because humans aren't the boss here. There is still a towering predator patrolling this landscape, and that cold reality electrifies every foray into the Alaska back country. Last summer was my 21st in Alaska. The joy of each has been the time spent on a stream bank, watching a 1,000-pound bear stumble after salmon. I do this for the soul, mainly, but also for the serenity. Bear watching is a lonely undertaking.