One advantageous part of camping in Alaska this time of year (despite it being somewhat cold) is that there is plenty of daylight for setting up camp. By the time we wrapped up at the Anchorage Museum, went back to the Inn for our car, and found a store for some food, it was late in the afternoon. Still, since our next destination was only an hour and a half outside of town, we were at our (empty & free) campsite by 6:30. We had gotten sandwiches for dinner already in Anchorage, leaving nearly four hours of daylight to setup camp and go for a little hike. Our campsite in the Porcupine Campground had a beautiful view of Turnagain Arm. As we headed up the trail for a short hike/walk/stroll, we paused briefly at the station at the trailhead, reading the usual warnings about bears. A new notice caught our eye, warning us against hiking the trail during heavy winds, due to danger from falling trees. The forests around Anchorage and Turnagain Arm are nearly dead after 20-some-odd years of bark beetle infestations. We hiked on, noting that there was just a light breeze. One of the cautions for hiking in bear country is to make noise because bears typically avoid humans & a surprised bear will attack. Suggested methods: conversation, a bell hanging somewhere on your person, and singing to oneself. We chose the first, though we have seen people hiking with bear mace and bells around their dogs' necks. While hiking and engaging in a round of 20 questions, we were quite surprised to hear a loud knocking coming from behind us... bear? woodpecker? someone nailing up a sign? No one was there. A gust of wind blew and we heard it again. We couldn't put our finger on it, then suddenly realized that it was the creaking of the base of a tree--a very tall dead tree which was about to fall on the trail behind us, only supported by the two trees next to it. We sat there for a minute, somewhat in awe and somewhat uncertain about what to do. It seemed foolish to continue the hike. We stood for a few minutes, hoping to see a tree fall fall in the forest, expecting it to make a sound since there were two people there to hear it. It seemed somewhat securely held by its two friends, though, so we decided to make a run for it back down the trail, under the soon-to-fall tree. The next morning (with no sign of wind), we went back down the trail to find the tree still standing, though a closer inspection of its creaking base showed that it had broken over halfway through. All it needed, seemingly, was a strong gust and/or weaker friends. Our campsite was outside of Hope... a tiny "town" left over from gold mining days and yielding under 200 residents. It seems that most of these are simply living in the area, as the town proper is suited for tourists only. Since tourist season hasn't begun in Alaska, it was more like a ghost town when we drove through.