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.

Nightcrawlers

I swung the beam of my flashlight over the wet grass looking for movement. Warm rain hit my bare arms in the darkness. There, stretched out across the feathery green blades, an earthworm raced for its hole. I quickly shifted the light beam to the side slowing the worm’s progress and with one swift grab it joined the others already in my bucket. My brother and I worked in tandem and our declarations of, “got one” filled the silence. It took no time to catch a dozen worms. I carried our containers inside the house and dumped the contents, now a slimy grass covered wriggling ball into Grandpa Hadsell’s worm bed. Tomorrow morning I’d feed them the coffee grounds that Mom would send to the cellar after cleaning the percolator. 

The RV engine noises intensified as we neared our campground on the Outer Banks of NC. I put my mouth into odd shapes in an attempt to mimic the high engine whine that joined a sound like that of rattling chains. It was the best I could do for Bucky, who has lost the upper range of hearing. However, it didn’t require perfect hearing to feel the RV’s refusal to accelerate when climbing even the smallest of hills. I Googled the sounds and was given a plethora of possible engine problems. We had hoped to make it to Ocracoke at the end of the Outer Banks, but wisely decided to head home. We mapped a path north that would keep us off interstates. This worked well until we entered north western NJ. My impression of NJ as urban sprawl was forever changed as we wound up and down rolling hills dotted with cows and red roadside barns. This was much too beautiful to be NJ!! Unfortunately, the steep climbs strained the engine more than interstate travel had, so we made a dash to I86 with the hope of making headway. The flatter the road, the better we rolled. Our progress was short lived and near Peakskill, NY we retreated to the breakdown lane to wait for a wrecker.

One hour became three and we waited, called and waited some more. Each semi that passed rocked the RV on its tilted roadside perch. I’m not prone to motion sickness, but the repeated swaying had my stomach feeling queasy.

Peter Lu, with little regard for his own safety, walked against oncoming traffic lighting and setting flares. Almost immediately, these were hit in the rush of vehicles steadily approaching in both lanes. He motioned with his hands and hoped to intimidate them by taking video of registrations on his phone, but it did little to slow the flow. I expected at any moment to see Peter, in his fluorescent green jacket, fly through the air like Peter Pan.

Metal was moved, chains were attached and we were soon traveling down the highway no longer two vehicles, but joined as one. Our initial plan to be towed to the closest Walmart, the look of which had me laughing, and being towed to VT in the morning had evolved on the roadside. Peter’s work day was completed and on his suggestion, he'd tow us the 200+ miles home. We thought, why not? We were hooked on, he had all night to drive, he’d sleep in his sleeper in Middlebury and return to Peakskill in the morning.

I was surprised when we turned into a shopping center shortly after we hooked on. Was it Mc Donald’s, Bed Bath and Beyond or the Flaming Grill and Buffet that had caused our detour? We later regretted  not taking Peter’s invitation to join him at the Flaming Grill when I saw his Facebook post of eating raw oysters and lobster while we ate Ritz and cheddar!

It was 9:00 and dark when I retreated to our bed at the rear of the RV. Before long, Bucky and the dog joined me and like Wynken, Blynken and Nod we fell asleep to the hum of the highway in our metal shoe.

The bright lights of the Ford dealership woke me. My phone said 2:00 am. I rolled over, petted the dog and felt the peaceful feeling that comes with being home. I wondered if Peter had slept well. He had decided to get fuel and sleep there. His most recent Facebook post showed him enjoying donuts in Fort Ann, NY headed to his home.

                       Thank you Peter Lu! 

                       NightCrawlerTow.com

Living the E-life

Picking up my phone, I clicked on the app. It took just a few minutes to create a unique birthday card for my nephew. It was fun embellishing it with music and animation. When finished, I was amused by my creativity. I hadn't even remembered his birthday, but was conveniently reminded by an alert on my iPhone. A few more clicks and my ecard was on its way. No belated wishes, no drive to the drug store, no postal delivery delay, but instead, an easy feeling of satisfaction. In today's world, the e in electronic equates to easy.

Bucky and I took baby steps into the e-world. We toddled along reaching for the hands of our grandchildren when support was needed. We’re proud of the strides we’ve made, but in the fast paced e-race, we're more like the tortoise than the hare.

As our travels began keeping us away from home for longer periods of time, e-banking with bill pay became a convenient way to handle finances. Bucky has an e-trade account where he dabbles in stocks. We both use email. Email was essential when I was working and it remains my preferred means of communication. Bucky rarely used email in his construction business, but set up a personal account. His choice of bucksnort46 as his email address caused us some laughter. But, when auto correct continually changed bucksnort to buckyballs, a new address was needed! 

The convenience and speed of email is undeniable. However, I was horrified when I received my first ecard at Christmas. It hit me hard like a slap in the face, a form of holiday abuse. Certain holiday traditions should never change, like snail mailing of Christmas cards. I felt like a child opening a hastily made homemade gift of construction paper while watching my classmates open store bought gifts. There was no enjoyment in opening this Christmas ecard. And.....what was I supposed to do with this electronic greeting? Should I print it and hang it among the foil and glitter adorned cards draping my mantle? Wouldn't the plain white printer paper droop alongside the sturdy card stock of its neighbors? Quite frankly, I was insulted in receiving it. Clicking the mouse to open this ecard could never replace the excitement of reaching into my mailbox and seeing on an envelope holding the return address of a dear friend. Then, anxiously opening the envelope adorn with a Santa stamp, and releasing from within the joy of Christmas. 

Little did I realize that the sender of the Christmas ecard was ahead of us in his use of technology. I still send paper Christmas cards to street addresses, but the photos, printing and paying for the finished product are all done electronically. Perhaps I’m headed toward sending Christmas ecards, but I doubt it!

I was well into adulthood when computers first entered our homes. My parents were anxious to try this new marvel and signed up for an introductory computer course at the local high school. It didn’t last long. As Dad put it, “the little arrow jumps all over the screen and sometimes totally disappears! My hands aren’t steady enough to control it.” Looking back, I wish I had encouraged them more.

By using the buttons on my phone, I can now transfer money, text a friend, e-sign an email  document and search ebay for a needed or unneeded item. Now, a new e-adventure awaits!

“Do you guys even still know how to ride bikes?”

Such was the inquiry of our youngest daughter when she heard Bucky discuss the purchase of electric bikes. She surely was experiencing deja vu, remembering a particular waterskiing event that still causes her fits of uncontrollable laughter at random moments, much like a favorite Saturday Night Live skit will do. 

This wasn't the routine approach to waterskiing with the skier crouched in the water, tow rope between the skis, but instead attempted by me standing on a dock, one foot in a slalom ski, tow rope coiled and a brazen yell of "hit it!" Had I actually thought I could to do this? The violent tug of the tow rope propelled me into the air. There I flew with my fingers clenching the wooden handle of the tow rope. My arms were outstretched as my body rested horizontally above the water's surface…… Superman! The slalom ski bobbed in the water at the edge of the dock after being torn from my foot. For those in attendance, and thank goodness there weren't many, it remains an unforgettable memory. Our daughter had good reason for concern.

The electric bikes were ordered and arrived in huge cardboard cartons. Bucky anxiously read his bike's manual. He seemed more excited about his new steed than me. I looked at my bike, sat astride it and wondered if the seat was too high or was it the height of the handlebars? Snow still covered the ground so neither bike left the stable. Bucky's bike leaned on its kick stand near the front door appearing anxious to escape. My bike lounged in our bedroom with clothes hanging from the handlebars. 

Finally the snow disappeared and Bucky placed our new bike rack on the truck. He lashed his bike to the rack protecting it with a piece of blue foam purposefully saved from a broken pool noodle. Bucky has a knack for knowing what should be saved for later use. With his bike following, we headed off the mountain to a dirt road in the valley.

In the same way Spring exposed our lawn, I eventually removed my jeans and sweatshirt from my bike handlebars. I still haven’t read the manual, but I have embraced my bike’s name….

Hey Bike! 

And, our daughter will be pleased to know, “ it’s just like riding a bike.”

Our first e-bike adventure will occur soon when we travel to Assateague Island. The bikes are foldable so they will fit in the storage compartment of our RV. We look forward to riding our electric steeds among the wild ponies! Giddy up!

Larger than Life

Leaves littered our gravel drive on the chilly September morning when we began the long drive back to Vermont. Traveling east through Canada's western provinces is always enjoyable with 577 miles of  Alaska Highway within the Yukon being the most spectacular. 

Yukon's slogan, “larger than life” is no exaggeration. Traveling south on the Alaska Highway, we arrive in the Yukon shortly after leaving Alaska, near the town of Beaver Creek. This fall, the aspen, birches and tamaracks were particularly bright and painted the roadsides and mountains in a palette of yellows and golds.

A favorite stretch of road is from Haines Junction to Kluane Lake. Here, the St Elias Mountains tower on the west side of the highway. Present, but not seen from the road, is Canada’s highest peak, Mt Logan at 19,520 feet. We travel a ribbon of road lodged between glacial rivers and snow covered rock peaks. The mountain crevices hold glaciers, forced downward by gravity into rugged valleys below. 

The Kluane National Park and Reserve of Canada, in conjunction with the Wrangell-St Elias and Glacier Bay National Parks and Preserves in Alaska and the Tatshenshini-Alsek Provincial Park in British Columbia, combine to form the earth’s largest non-polar ice field. I find each new vista to be more beautiful that the one just photographed. I keep my camera on my lap, continually lifting it to find another mountain peak and glacier in my view finder. I never tire of the scenery as it varies with time of day, weather and season. This year snow came early and already the hillsides are white. The ponds and streams we pass are ice covered and migrating swans congregate in remaining pockets of open water.

Looking toward the southern end of Kluane Lake. I often include vehicles in my photos as they provide a known object by which to make a size comparison in this enormous landscape. 

Kluane Lake is the largest lake entirely in the Yukon. It has water depths exceeding 200 feet, lake shore that is mostly inaccessible by road and is known to have excellent fishing. During the past decade, we have seen the lake's water level drop. Water once passed under the bridge at the lake's south end, but this is now an area of dry sand. Glacial water which fed Kluane Lake, is no longer flowing.

Glacial melt from the Kaskawulsh Glacier no longer enters the Slims River, but instead is taking an alternate route into the Kaskawulsh River. This river takes water away from Kluane Lake. Without water from the Slims River, Kluane is slowly drying up. No one knows if this change is permanent. However, where water once was is now dry silt, When the wind blows hard enough, which seems to be quite often, this powdery sand is lifted up creating a dust storm in front of travelers.

                                                   

In the spring, it's not unusual to see bears on this stretch of highway, but in the fall we're more likely to see caribou. We were really excited to see the Takhini elk herd just north of Whitehorse. We have only seen these elk a few times and it's been cows. This time a nice bull herded cows and young animals close to the road so we had a good look.

After leaving the Yukon, we planned an evening spent camping in British Columbia at Liard River Hot Springs Provincial Park. I looked forward to relaxing in the warm water after a long day of riding. However, after settling into our campsite, we both felt more like a cocktail in our recliners than battling the wind and cool rain. So, the following morning after coffee, we walked the quarter mile or so from our campsite to the springs. It's such a a well maintained area. We immediately noticed the addition of a high electric fence around the campground. There has always been a lot of signage warning of bears, but evidently the need to discourage had escalated. There were also signs saying loud noise, probably air horns, would be used to discourage bears.

Herds of bison appeared along the highway. We saw one young calf still nursing. The spring calves we had seen in June were now twice this calf's size. It was sad to think that this young animal would probably not make it through the winter with the presence of wolves. I didn't take a single photo of these animals as I've done so regularly in the past. 

Caribou aren't quite as common so I raised my camera for them. I view them as a very odd looking animal. I think the caribou cows somewhat resemble a dairy cow and unlike deer, caribou often seem clueless. However, I've witness the speed at which a caribou herd can cover the hummocks and tussocks of the tundra, heads to the ground, eating while maintaining a steady pace. 

Approximately, half of our drive from Vermont to Alaska is within Canada. As much as we enjoy the Canadian people, towns, landscape and animals I feel a sense of relief when we re-enter the US. Perhaps it's the unusual times we're experiencing, but I felt particularly proud when the US border agent, after asking the customary questions of,"How long were you in Canada? Did you purchase anything in Canada?",  handed back our passports and said,  

"Welcome home".