Alaska Highway July 2022

Pika had no idea what two weeks of confinement would feel like.

We waited our turn to approach the sign in Dawson Creek, BC indicating the start of the Alaska Highway, mile 0 of 1390 miles. 

This group with beautifully restored vehicles were surely just posers. The Highway can provide travelers with stone pecks and sometimes a cracked windshield as souvenirs of the journey. We'll travel on it for 1282 miles, from Dawson Creek, British Columbia, through parts of the Yukon, to Tok, Alaska. Just south of Tok we’ll leave the Yukon crossing back into the US. It's always exciting to arrive in Alaska. Tok is a town anxious to receive road weary travelers. Here we'll spend the night alongside semis and campers in the gravel parking lot of Fast Eddy’s. This restaurant is an oasis for food and drink. After a night of interrupted sleep, due to patrons arriving and exiting the bar next to Fast Eddy's and trucks idling, we'll drive the final 350 miles to our cabin in Talkeetna. While we veer off in Tok, the Alaska Highway continues on, ending in Delta, AK south of Fairbanks.

Most of our overnights are spent in Walmart parking lots. There we are joined by truckers and campers of all varieties. Each rig checks out where others are parked, trying to group up near lawn and garden or, in a particularly large lot, park as far from the entrance as possible. I generally call ahead to make sure overnight stays are allowed. Some nights are quieter than others, but we’ve never felt uncomfortable camping in this way. The parking lot lights and movement of vehicles in and out provides a bizarre sense of security. Add in Pika's "no nonsense" bark.

I sipped my coffee in Fort St John, BC while watching the fluid yoga moves of our neighbor. His body had been kissed by extended hours of sun. I wondered if this had occurred on the beaches of Hawaii, California or perhaps on a sailboat in the tropics. When he looked my way, I dropped my camera to my side. His limber athletic body defied his age and he moved effortlessly in the cool Canadian air. My dormant muscles longed to join in, but I took another sip of coffee and turned away. Each traveler embodies a unique story.

It's sometimes hard for others to view a Walmart parking lots as gold at the end of the rainbow.

Summer is when road construction occurs on the Alaska Highway. It's an ongoing battle against the permafrost to keep the paved road smooth. The underlayer is constantly changing causing buckling and heaving. The frost heaves can be severe, causing damage to vehicles that travel too quickly across such an uneven surface. A smooth stretch lulls us into complacency and the speedometer needle climbs, only to be shaken back into reality when bounced by unanticipated wavy pavement. Some years are worse than others with long work area delays and guidance by pilot cars. We encountered very little road maintenance, but when we did....... it involved dust!

We experienced some sunny days on which the snow capped mountains made me reach for my camera at each turn in the road. But, the majority of our days were foggy and rainy with low clouds sweeping across the mountain peaks. These dark days presented a changing panorama when viewed through the swiping wiper blades. 

The Highway takes us through two of BC's provincial parks, Stone Mountain and Muncho Lake.. It is here that we often see wildlife. This trip, we saw fewer bears than normal and those we saw were reluctant to pose for pictures. We seem to see more bears when traveling earlier in the Spring.

Stone Sheep ewe and lamb

Turquoise blue Muncho Lake

This one posed!

The Alaskan Highway was constructed between March and October of 1942. This was after the bombing of Pearl Harbor and its construction was seen as necessary in the WWII war effort. The road was open to the public in 1948. It was not the road of today. There were few services and harsh road conditions. Those using the road in its infancy utilized the many lodges scattered along the route for rest, food and auto repairs. Most of these facilities are now shuttered and barricaded. Modern automobiles, bigger towns with motels and services have eliminated the need for the old lodges. However, we spent a night at Toad River Lodge one of the original lodges that has been modernized and well maintained. Here we showered, plugged into power and celebrated Bucky’s 76th birthday by eating Bison burgers and devouring a frosted cinnamon bun. Cinnamon buns are a sought after commodity along this road and on this day it was a well deserved birthday cake.

Summit Lodge was abandoned before our first trip in 2008.

Only 800 more miles to the AK border

The frost heaves and broken pavement intensified as we neared the Alaskan border. We took back most of what we had said about the highway being smoother than normal. Our RV was loaded down with totes from home, Minnesota and with hunting gear and tools. Each jarring jolt had me covering my head in anticipation of something being dislodged and spiraling down from the overhead bunk.

Just when it seemed the border could not come fast enough, the hillsides erupted in purple fireweed. Needing to slow our speed because of road conditions allowed us to take in the surrounding beauty. Nature has a way of  slowing one's pace. Fireweed lined the roadsides, filled the valleys and crawled up the hills. It appeared in stark contrast to the charred Spruce remains of past fires.

This truck appears to be carrying a train's snowplow,

Our final night in Fast Eddy's pot holed parking lot ended our Highway travel.  While we celebrated our return to Alaska, others prepared for their adventure through Canada. 

I threw a ball for Pika and she looked confused as to if this was our final destination or if she would soon, once again, be bouncing along. The midnight sun shown through a pink haze and the air smelled of smoke carried here from the many fires burning around Alaska. Tomorrow we'll travel the final 350 miles to our cabin. Once there, I'll throw the ball many more times for Pika and she'll soon remembers her Alaskan home. I'm hoping she doesn't remember how much she enjoyed digging in our Alaskan compost bin!

What’s Zup ?

July 2-4

Babbitt Minnesota is a town of 1500 hardy souls located on the eastern end of the Mesabi Iron Mining Range in Northeastern Minnesota. It's not uncommon to see yard signs in Babbitt stating, "we support mining”. In an area of limited employment opportunities, North Shore Mining supports local families. I once heard Babbitt described as “rangey”. I wasn’t sure if this was a good or bad thing, but it didn’t sound flattering. Just outside of Babbitt is pristine Birch Lake, known for walleye fishing and sandy Babbitt Beach.

Twenty minutes from Babbitt is the town of Ely, renowned for recreation. Ely has coffee shops, outdoor gear stores, summer music fairs, crafters and numerous canoe rental businesses. Ely residents seem sensitive to environmental issues and the impact of open pit mining. It makes sense as Ely is the gateway to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness a vast roadless network of waterways within Superior National Forest. It's a popular destination for residents of Duluth and the twin cities of Minneapolis/St. Paul. Ely lies on the shore of Shagawa Lake and like Birch Lake, it's also known for fishing. Two towns with much in common,

The differences between Babbitt and Ely are like those of Clark Kent and Superman. Similar yet different. Babbitt is quiet and unassuming while Ely is colorful and action packed. Ely has gourmet coffee and muffins while Babbitt has beer and pizza. In Babbitt it’s not uncommon to see side by sides and 4 wheelers in the grocery store parking lot. Both towns have family owned Zup’s Markets, selling homemade sausage, pasties, smoked walleye and deer feed.  https://zups.com/

Zup’s

This is the Tank, a restaurant/bar in Babbitt serving  cold beer, delicious pizza and outstanding fish and chips.

The average home price in Ely is $225,000 with lake front property demanding much more. In Babbitt $135,000 will buy a 3 bedroom home. I’ve seen small ranch houses in the center of Babbitt listed for as little as $50,000-$75,000. 

                 

These homes were originally built by mining companies for their workers.

In Ely, resorts, cabins and second homes abound which is accompanied by a lack of available and affordable housing. Last summer, after accepting a job in Ely with the USFS, our daughter Carlisle struggled to find housing, She was finally able to occupy a small home in Babbitt while the owner was at her lake house. This was fine for the first few months, but not for the duration. Realizing that finding a rental in Ely was next to impossible, Carlisle purchased land in less desirable Babbitt. That summer she built a darling dry cabin on her five acres. We visited her in the summer of '21 and again in October '21. (see "Ely" posted June 19, 2021)

Carlisle's land came with the added benefit of being within woods that had been hunted by local deer hunters for generations. Each trip to the lumber yard in Babbitt produced a new story of deer taken near her building site. She looked forward to her first hunting season in MN with great excitement and anticipation. Although she wasn't able to harvest a buck, her game cameras showed they existed, along with fox, coyote and wolves. Knowing wolves travel and live so close to people is amazing to me. 

With expert maneuvering Bucky placed our RV in Lisle’s narrow driveway. Accompanying us to AK is Lisle's dog, Pika, who lifted her nose in recognition of her old stomping ground. She entered the cabin and immediately looked up to the loft hoping her owner might be there. Carlisle no longer lives in Minnesota and has returned to Alaska where her heart remained. We’ll pick up some of her belongings and take them with us to Alaska and on our return trip in October, we'll pick up the remainder and transport it to VT,

 Being here has provided a nice break after 1500 miles of travel. 

                       Old drawers make interesting shelves for mementos and Rory Jackson's artwork.

And, so it began……

June 29,2022

A refreshing breeze swept the remaining petals from my orange poppies. They fell to the ground leaving behind a misshapen purple center, resembling a hairy plum. A multitude of day lilies stood ready to explode with orange blossoms to replace those of the poppies. I was pleased I was able to plant two perennials that ensured my small flower garden would have color for the bulk of the summer. 

The freshly mowed lawn was emerald green, quenched by recent rain. With calculated precision, Bucky’s mower blade had spared clumps of wild daisies that seemed to nod their white petaled heads as I passed by. Bread Loaf mountain looked down from a cloudless sky of royal blue. I smiled internally at this scene. Our renters would soon arrive from Boston to be greeted by a perfect Vermont day.

The last of our belongings were now securely stored in our motorhome. The tasks of readying the house and packing the RV hadn’t become easier, although repeated for the last fourteen summers.  However, the process of going through kitchen cupboards, crowded closets and pantry shelves, that resulted in tossing, recycling and donating items, left me feeling cleansed and rejuvenated.

July 1, 2022.   

Interstate 90, can be hair raising, but it provides a fast, direct route East and West. Trucks barrel by with what appears as mere inches between them.  Motorcycles with helmetless riders rocket through traffic defying death with each turn of the handlebars. New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, followed by the rich farmland of Indiana. Here, the Midwestern heat hit us hard.  Evidently, we don’t have the hardiness or the resilience of those who survive midwestern blizzards and scorching summer heat. We sweated, waiting patiently for the sun to set. Hours passed and the sun’s heat just seemed to intensify as it neared the horizon. Finally, on a landscape as flat as a sheet of paper, at about 10pm, the sun disappeared from view. A cool breeze followed and we drifted off to sleep in America’s heartland.