In Dawson Creek, BC, mile 0 of the Alaska Highway (or the Al-Can) has become a tourist attraction. A white milepost has been erected in the center of an intersection in town marking its original location, but for convenience’s sake, a more ostentatious marker has been placed along the highway that most travelers take through town, nearly two blocks away. After several false starts, the war in Europe provided the impetus for the construction of the highway in 1942 as a means to connect important military bases in Canada and Alaska. The project wound up costing nearly $150 million.
Our progress northward is becoming more evident in the world around us. The sun is setting after 9 pm now, the trees are aging in reverse, and the beautiful weather that we’ve grown accustomed to is apparently arriving just days ahead of us at each stop. Moose crossing signs are appearing at smaller intervals, though we have yet to spot the great, lumbering creatures.
At our last campsite, another traveler told KT some tales about the Al-Can. He claimed to have seen eagles steal small pets from their unwitting, RV-driving owners—just swooping out of the sky to tug them, leash and all, from the astounded grasps of their masters. He said also that the Al-Can destroys relationships and that friends should never make the trek together. I’m interested in seeing which scenario we come upon first.
Tonight, we’re camped 145 miles away from Dawson Creek, at a small campsite/store/post office called Pink Mountain. I feel like we’ve stumbled upon an abandoned lumber camp. This small outpost has gas, a fully stocked shop and a meat locker out back. Although it opened at the beginning of the month, it won’t see much business until mid-June. The pipes in the camp showers won’t thaw until then, either. Most of the sites are empty with a small handful of RV’s strewn about and only three other tenters, two of which arrived just as we were winding down for bed. This was a four-hour drive from our last stop, and I marvel over driving through miles of wilderness and then passing small isolated collections of people.
PS - Check out some pics on the first days and oh, canada!
Friday, May 30, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
oh, canada!
Our first night in Canada passed pretty uneventfully. We’ve been staying in provincial parks (think state-run camp sites), which have been anything between a parking spot in the woods to a lakeside picnic site with flush toilets and a store. Thankfully, they’ve all been pretty cheap and I highly recommend this method if you’re traversing across BC. We’ve met a bunch of friendly camp attendants and scoffed at the myriad RV’s that have surrounded us in the parks. Of course, I suppose one day we, too, will be retired and used to the creature comforts. Seriously, doesn’t ANYBODY under the age of 50 make this trip?!
Some of the more exciting points:
Our second day through Canada brought us up through the gorgeous Fraser River Valley, a lush, mossy Pacific Northwest forestland enclosed by craggy, snow-capped mountains. Coniferous forests blanket the walls of this valley, that is sometimes so narrow it only fits the river and the highway. Midday found us passing Hell’s Gate, a rugged crossing of the Fraser River. It was named thus by the explorers for its dangerous passage through the valley. Today, it is marked by a tourist trap—a cable car that descends into the ravine and deposits you on the opposite bank. A four minute ride to a gift shop and suspension bridge back across the river to nowhere, all for $16.
Who knew British Columbia had a desert? Ok, probably all of you. Anyway, the valley eventually opened into arid ranchland. Those parts that are irrigable serve as pastureland to cows and as fields of alfalfa and mysterious swaths of black fabric, later explained to be ginseng. KT compared the space to Wyoming. Scattered pines cover the dusty mountains that run along either side of the river and patches of scrub speckle the spaces between. Although rivers and lakes exist all along the valley and are fed by snowmelt in the higher mountains, very little rain actually falls here.
The towns in this part are dolled up in Wild West, Gold Rush fashion, featuring old-style facades and names such as 90 Mile House. One town, Clinton, claims to be the Gateway to the Cariboo and hosts a collection of “traveler’s trees” in the center of town—15 foot poles covered head to toe with wooden slats listing names and hometowns of passersby. There was nothing to mark the spot, but any sign would’ve been unnecessary. KT caught a glimpse of the poles as we jetted past and thought they deserved a second look. On closer inspection, we found records of visitors from Quesnel, BC, to France, marked in any way possible: blue magic marker, nail scratches, and even carved out with a router.
Day three brought us into the Canadian Rockies and across the Continental Divide. The mountains surprised us as we pulled off to a lookout point for Bijoux Falls. Here, snow was still on the ground and just ahead were the Rockies, great stony pinnacles still white with the fading winter. Just a month ago, the ski resorts in this area were still operating.
The little town of Chetwynd claims to be the chainsaw sculpture carving capital of the world. We paused only long enough to admire the line of champions outside the visitor center. 2006’s winner was carved by a Pennsylvania resident!
The towns were getting smaller and fewer the deeper we drove into BC. Signs warned us to check our gas, as refreshment was getting to be 150 km or more apart. But we arrived safe and sound at the luxurious Mile 0 RV camp in Dawson Creek. We’re here for the night, hoping to regroup before hopping on the Al-Can tomorrow. Here we bid adieu to convenient towns and unending paved road. Alright, that sounds a little sensationalist. Dawson Creek isn’t the last bastion of civilization between us and Fairbanks, but it sure is fun to play that way!
Some of the more exciting points:
Our second day through Canada brought us up through the gorgeous Fraser River Valley, a lush, mossy Pacific Northwest forestland enclosed by craggy, snow-capped mountains. Coniferous forests blanket the walls of this valley, that is sometimes so narrow it only fits the river and the highway. Midday found us passing Hell’s Gate, a rugged crossing of the Fraser River. It was named thus by the explorers for its dangerous passage through the valley. Today, it is marked by a tourist trap—a cable car that descends into the ravine and deposits you on the opposite bank. A four minute ride to a gift shop and suspension bridge back across the river to nowhere, all for $16.Who knew British Columbia had a desert? Ok, probably all of you. Anyway, the valley eventually opened into arid ranchland. Those parts that are irrigable serve as pastureland to cows and as fields of alfalfa and mysterious swaths of black fabric, later explained to be ginseng. KT compared the space to Wyoming. Scattered pines cover the dusty mountains that run along either side of the river and patches of scrub speckle the spaces between. Although rivers and lakes exist all along the valley and are fed by snowmelt in the higher mountains, very little rain actually falls here.
The towns in this part are dolled up in Wild West, Gold Rush fashion, featuring old-style facades and names such as 90 Mile House. One town, Clinton, claims to be the Gateway to the Cariboo and hosts a collection of “traveler’s trees” in the center of town—15 foot poles covered head to toe with wooden slats listing names and hometowns of passersby. There was nothing to mark the spot, but any sign would’ve been unnecessary. KT caught a glimpse of the poles as we jetted past and thought they deserved a second look. On closer inspection, we found records of visitors from Quesnel, BC, to France, marked in any way possible: blue magic marker, nail scratches, and even carved out with a router.
Day three brought us into the Canadian Rockies and across the Continental Divide. The mountains surprised us as we pulled off to a lookout point for Bijoux Falls. Here, snow was still on the ground and just ahead were the Rockies, great stony pinnacles still white with the fading winter. Just a month ago, the ski resorts in this area were still operating.
The little town of Chetwynd claims to be the chainsaw sculpture carving capital of the world. We paused only long enough to admire the line of champions outside the visitor center. 2006’s winner was carved by a Pennsylvania resident!The towns were getting smaller and fewer the deeper we drove into BC. Signs warned us to check our gas, as refreshment was getting to be 150 km or more apart. But we arrived safe and sound at the luxurious Mile 0 RV camp in Dawson Creek. We’re here for the night, hoping to regroup before hopping on the Al-Can tomorrow. Here we bid adieu to convenient towns and unending paved road. Alright, that sounds a little sensationalist. Dawson Creek isn’t the last bastion of civilization between us and Fairbanks, but it sure is fun to play that way!
the first days
Wow, has it really been seven days? KT and I left her front step on May 19, passed through Portland, OR, Seattle, WA, and then into Canada and have today arrived at Mile 0 of the Alaska Highway. That’s more than 1000 miles in a week. Ok, so our time hasn’t been great, but we’ve been having a great time! Some highlights:
Portland:
We’re hanging out with Katie’s friends, and today’s itinerary included a reading at Powell’s, the country’s largest independent bookstore. We’re here to hear Jen Lancaster, a non-fiction author who’s currently promoting her latest book, Such a Pretty Fat. The reading was held on the third floor in the Pearl Room. This place is so ridiculously large one needs to pick up a map at the front desk in order to have any idea of where to find anything. A compass wouldn’t hurt, either.
The Pearl Room houses Powell’s rare books collection and a little piece of ludicrous called the ‘Velveteria.’ As KT put it, this was “everything that ever was terrible painted on velvet.” A painting of Kiss was positioned directly behind the podium, and just to the left of that, a depiction of Jesus gazing forlornly upon a pair of torpedo-like knockers framed next door. But the Lord could’ve had his pick of boobs—they were everywhere interspersed between jaguars, unicorns, and celebrities all on fields of black velvet. Just a tad distracting, these pictures did somehow seem to fit the tenor of Jen’s reading—an excerpt on her mortifying foray into Yoga and Barbie cosmetology. Her style had a confessional, yet familiar quality to it and her audience was devoted: the Q & A section following involved a lot of esoteric questions around her other writings, past life-experiences, handbags, expensive shoes, and somebody named Fletch. I may need to scope out one of her books, although I was told I had to hate her first in order to love her through her first work.
Seattle:
We’ve finally made it out of Seattle, after zigzagging north and south along I-5 for two days. I have one question for you Seattle: is the freeway ever free?! Rush hour lasted approximately from 1:30 pm to 1:15 pm. Of course, this is only important if you’re driving along the interstate within the city limits. Which we where. For three days. Don’t ask. But I got to see the Emerald City.
We were hosted by KT’s cousin and her roommate, and their two cats, one of which was antisocial and possibly homicidal. Our visits to the city involved a few romps.
Our first stop Queen Anne Hill for a nighttime view of the famous Space Needle dominated skyline. Although the night was cloudy, the view was clear and the Space Needle was lit up as it loomed above Puget Sound.
The next day brought us to Pike’s Place for the large public market. We lunched on smoked salmon belly from the famous flying fish
market—the mongers shout your order through the whole stand before sending it aloft from the iced barrow to the scale and back. After a dessert of a dozen fresh baked doughnuts, we trekked up the street in search of the original Starbucks coffeehouse. Just outside the door was a group of men singing soul acappella and we sipped our macchiatos at the counter to the soulful grooves.
A short drive brought us back to Queen Anne Hill where we strolled along
the locks toward Fremont. The neighborhood of Fremont has a tradition of peculiarity and it wasn’t long before we found a giant troll eating a Volkswagon beneath an overpass. We also saw the center of the universe, conveniently denoted by a street sign, and an old soviet missile that had been erected atop one of the buildings near the center of the universe.
Trying to leave the next day, we wound up getting stuck in REI trying to run some short errands. Ok, we didn’t get held up; we were drooling over the merch. But eventually we made it back onto I-5 to leave the city before....
“Oh, KT, I think I left my camera at the house!”
So, back down the freeway we went, ultimately staying an extra night in order to skip the traffic. We even got to see Prince Caspian in the deal!
Canada:
We made the border soon the next day and met the strangest situation we could’ve never expected. No, our piles of canned goods were not confiscated. No, we weren’t questioned suspiciously about our loose itinerary (“I guess we’re hoping to be in Alaska in a couple of weeks....”). It was, apparently, our employment histories that raised some eyebrows. OK, it wasn’t even my employment history. Here’s how it went down:
Border Officer: What are your occupations?
Us: We’re unemployed.
BO: What had you done previously?
Me: I worked in a kitchen in a therapeutic community.
BO: *nods* And you?
KT: Biology.
BO: *eyebrow* Can you be more specific?
KT: I worked in research.
BO: What does that mean?
KT: I was a research biologisit... I did biological research.
BO: You’re going to have to clarify that for me.
And on it went. Poor KT left the border now questioning not only the reasons for this crazy trip in the first place, but also her entire existence and purpose in this life.
So those were the first days. This post is getting long enough, so I think I’ll break the rest up into more for later. Enjoy! Oh, yeah, and stay tuned for pictures!
Portland:
We’re hanging out with Katie’s friends, and today’s itinerary included a reading at Powell’s, the country’s largest independent bookstore. We’re here to hear Jen Lancaster, a non-fiction author who’s currently promoting her latest book, Such a Pretty Fat. The reading was held on the third floor in the Pearl Room. This place is so ridiculously large one needs to pick up a map at the front desk in order to have any idea of where to find anything. A compass wouldn’t hurt, either.
The Pearl Room houses Powell’s rare books collection and a little piece of ludicrous called the ‘Velveteria.’ As KT put it, this was “everything that ever was terrible painted on velvet.” A painting of Kiss was positioned directly behind the podium, and just to the left of that, a depiction of Jesus gazing forlornly upon a pair of torpedo-like knockers framed next door. But the Lord could’ve had his pick of boobs—they were everywhere interspersed between jaguars, unicorns, and celebrities all on fields of black velvet. Just a tad distracting, these pictures did somehow seem to fit the tenor of Jen’s reading—an excerpt on her mortifying foray into Yoga and Barbie cosmetology. Her style had a confessional, yet familiar quality to it and her audience was devoted: the Q & A section following involved a lot of esoteric questions around her other writings, past life-experiences, handbags, expensive shoes, and somebody named Fletch. I may need to scope out one of her books, although I was told I had to hate her first in order to love her through her first work.
Seattle:
We’ve finally made it out of Seattle, after zigzagging north and south along I-5 for two days. I have one question for you Seattle: is the freeway ever free?! Rush hour lasted approximately from 1:30 pm to 1:15 pm. Of course, this is only important if you’re driving along the interstate within the city limits. Which we where. For three days. Don’t ask. But I got to see the Emerald City.
We were hosted by KT’s cousin and her roommate, and their two cats, one of which was antisocial and possibly homicidal. Our visits to the city involved a few romps.
Our first stop Queen Anne Hill for a nighttime view of the famous Space Needle dominated skyline. Although the night was cloudy, the view was clear and the Space Needle was lit up as it loomed above Puget Sound.
The next day brought us to Pike’s Place for the large public market. We lunched on smoked salmon belly from the famous flying fish
market—the mongers shout your order through the whole stand before sending it aloft from the iced barrow to the scale and back. After a dessert of a dozen fresh baked doughnuts, we trekked up the street in search of the original Starbucks coffeehouse. Just outside the door was a group of men singing soul acappella and we sipped our macchiatos at the counter to the soulful grooves.A short drive brought us back to Queen Anne Hill where we strolled along
the locks toward Fremont. The neighborhood of Fremont has a tradition of peculiarity and it wasn’t long before we found a giant troll eating a Volkswagon beneath an overpass. We also saw the center of the universe, conveniently denoted by a street sign, and an old soviet missile that had been erected atop one of the buildings near the center of the universe.Trying to leave the next day, we wound up getting stuck in REI trying to run some short errands. Ok, we didn’t get held up; we were drooling over the merch. But eventually we made it back onto I-5 to leave the city before....
“Oh, KT, I think I left my camera at the house!”
So, back down the freeway we went, ultimately staying an extra night in order to skip the traffic. We even got to see Prince Caspian in the deal!
Canada:
We made the border soon the next day and met the strangest situation we could’ve never expected. No, our piles of canned goods were not confiscated. No, we weren’t questioned suspiciously about our loose itinerary (“I guess we’re hoping to be in Alaska in a couple of weeks....”). It was, apparently, our employment histories that raised some eyebrows. OK, it wasn’t even my employment history. Here’s how it went down:
Border Officer: What are your occupations?
Us: We’re unemployed.
BO: What had you done previously?
Me: I worked in a kitchen in a therapeutic community.
BO: *nods* And you?
KT: Biology.
BO: *eyebrow* Can you be more specific?
KT: I worked in research.
BO: What does that mean?
KT: I was a research biologisit... I did biological research.
BO: You’re going to have to clarify that for me.
And on it went. Poor KT left the border now questioning not only the reasons for this crazy trip in the first place, but also her entire existence and purpose in this life.
So those were the first days. This post is getting long enough, so I think I’ll break the rest up into more for later. Enjoy! Oh, yeah, and stay tuned for pictures!
Friday, May 23, 2008
passing through
Ok, we're on our way for real this time. We've made a couple of stops in Portland and Seattle. So many distractions!
More later!
Next stop: Canada
More later!
Next stop: Canada
Sunday, May 18, 2008
are we there yet?
Wahoo! The time has come! Today is the day we leave for Alaska!
Yes! Here we go! After a few frantic days of gathering, running errands, and stuffing everything (including a foldable kitchen sink) into KT's subaru, the afternoon has arrived for our departure.
It's just about time...
Any minute now...
Sigh. It's always the small, last-minute details that catch one up, no? So while we plan to leave TODAY, no man knows the actual hour. KT's been running around like her head's on fire trying to lock all the doors and windows, cancel the mail and newspaper subscription, and unplug all the curling irons. I've been making smaller and fewer piles that need attention trying to do SOMETHING to help, and in the meantime, more things have snuck into the cracks and crevices of the car. I think we may eventually tick off everything on the "before you go..." list, however, some of it may need to wait until we get back.
So, if you're in the neighborhood, do us a favor and check on the goldfish. Thanks.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
if i grow up...
I’m never going to grow up and be something with all these distractions around! I have too many choices!
First were the tall ships. KT and I drove down to Coos Bay, another of the small coastal towns near here with a river outlet to the Pacific. Moored in the harbor were two historic sailing vessels, the Lady Washington and the Hawaiian Chieftain. Although these ships have diesel engines, they are built with masts and rigging to be wind-powered under sail. The ships sail up and down the West Coast, pulling into the harbors to offer educational tours and sometimes short cruises.
At Coos Bay, there was an hour-long opportunity to climb on board and see the ships while asking questions of the costumed crew. Later that evening, a “battle” cruise was offered. This means people could pay $60 for a three hour sail up and down the river’s mouth while the Lady Washington and Hawaiian Chieftain fired their canons back and forth. I suppose they were also maneuvering under sail in an impressive fashion, but it just looked slow to me.
Upon talking to three of the deckhands, we discovered that these ships take on volunteers at different times of the year. Total landlubbers can pony up $500 for a two week cruise. But this isn’t just a pleasure cruise: volunteers are literally taught the ropes. After a full immersion program, the new recruits have the opportunity to volunteer for another go ‘round with more responsibilities. After some time, participants have gained enough experience to apply for jobs aboard these vessels, or others in the tall ship community. One deckhand was planning to sign on with a tug boat company—work six months on, then crew on a tall ship again during his six months off. Not a bad set-up.
These ships didn’t hold half the draw, however, as the city of Eugene. Oregon’s second or third largest city (apparently, it changes on a regular basis), is just small enough to be manageable. Very bike friendly, this town is flat enough to be laid out in a grid with plenty of parks and trails wide enough for pedestrians and cyclists to share. Eugene prides itself on its liberalism and progressive viewpoints, and the Eugene Weekly (the town’s free culture and event guide) contains a large section dedicated to political discussion and local affairs. The Willamette River runs through the center of town and is lined on both sides with a public green. Citizens are even discussing turning the old Mill Stream, a small creek that winds through the city, into a kayak path to the Willamette. Just off the river is another park that encompasses Skinner’s Butte, an abrupt hill on top of which is a reservoir for the city. The butte itself holds several hiking trails up it’s wooded sides, lookouts of the city from the top, and even a small series of columnar rock formations that make a popular climbing park for residents.. South of Skinner’s Butte and near the center of town is the University of Oregon and plenty of affordable housing options. Apartments can run as low as $350 and several families list rooms and small apartments for rent in their own homes. The downtown offers several businesses, restaurants and shops. Several farmer’s markets spring up during the growing season, owing in part to the number of organic farms that have surrounded Eugene since before they came into vogue in the rest of the country. The rest of Oregon’s great outdoors aren’t far from the city limits, either—just outside of Eugene are plenty of kayaking waters, public campgrounds, and a short drive to the Pacific coast or Portland. I quite think I’d like to call this town home for a while.
But first, as KT keeps reminding me: ALASKA!
First were the tall ships. KT and I drove down to Coos Bay, another of the small coastal towns near here with a river outlet to the Pacific. Moored in the harbor were two historic sailing vessels, the Lady Washington and the Hawaiian Chieftain. Although these ships have diesel engines, they are built with masts and rigging to be wind-powered under sail. The ships sail up and down the West Coast, pulling into the harbors to offer educational tours and sometimes short cruises.
At Coos Bay, there was an hour-long opportunity to climb on board and see the ships while asking questions of the costumed crew. Later that evening, a “battle” cruise was offered. This means people could pay $60 for a three hour sail up and down the river’s mouth while the Lady Washington and Hawaiian Chieftain fired their canons back and forth. I suppose they were also maneuvering under sail in an impressive fashion, but it just looked slow to me.
Upon talking to three of the deckhands, we discovered that these ships take on volunteers at different times of the year. Total landlubbers can pony up $500 for a two week cruise. But this isn’t just a pleasure cruise: volunteers are literally taught the ropes. After a full immersion program, the new recruits have the opportunity to volunteer for another go ‘round with more responsibilities. After some time, participants have gained enough experience to apply for jobs aboard these vessels, or others in the tall ship community. One deckhand was planning to sign on with a tug boat company—work six months on, then crew on a tall ship again during his six months off. Not a bad set-up.
These ships didn’t hold half the draw, however, as the city of Eugene. Oregon’s second or third largest city (apparently, it changes on a regular basis), is just small enough to be manageable. Very bike friendly, this town is flat enough to be laid out in a grid with plenty of parks and trails wide enough for pedestrians and cyclists to share. Eugene prides itself on its liberalism and progressive viewpoints, and the Eugene Weekly (the town’s free culture and event guide) contains a large section dedicated to political discussion and local affairs. The Willamette River runs through the center of town and is lined on both sides with a public green. Citizens are even discussing turning the old Mill Stream, a small creek that winds through the city, into a kayak path to the Willamette. Just off the river is another park that encompasses Skinner’s Butte, an abrupt hill on top of which is a reservoir for the city. The butte itself holds several hiking trails up it’s wooded sides, lookouts of the city from the top, and even a small series of columnar rock formations that make a popular climbing park for residents.. South of Skinner’s Butte and near the center of town is the University of Oregon and plenty of affordable housing options. Apartments can run as low as $350 and several families list rooms and small apartments for rent in their own homes. The downtown offers several businesses, restaurants and shops. Several farmer’s markets spring up during the growing season, owing in part to the number of organic farms that have surrounded Eugene since before they came into vogue in the rest of the country. The rest of Oregon’s great outdoors aren’t far from the city limits, either—just outside of Eugene are plenty of kayaking waters, public campgrounds, and a short drive to the Pacific coast or Portland. I quite think I’d like to call this town home for a while.
But first, as KT keeps reminding me: ALASKA!
Saturday, May 10, 2008
more pictures
Shameless self-advertising, I guess...
I added another (VERY SMALL) gallery for your viewing pleasure. All five of you.
These are just a couple more pictures from the Red Moshannon Canoe Race. I'm a little proud of them, so please be kind.
I added another (VERY SMALL) gallery for your viewing pleasure. All five of you.
These are just a couple more pictures from the Red Moshannon Canoe Race. I'm a little proud of them, so please be kind.
Monday, May 5, 2008
on the road again
Ah, the road! How I missed you!
Tomorrow, I begin the beginning of the journey north. I'm catching the train to Harrisburg where my brother will put me up over night, and then send me to the airport. I fly to Oregon and then the real preparations begin.
KT thinks that being ready to leave within the week would be exceeding expectations and I think that's alright. That would give us more time to have all things in order (we're driving to ALASKA for heaven's sake!), and the weather more time to start acting its age!
I'm so excited to be moving again. Small side trips to Michigan and DC for visits with Monster Librarian and Amos have perked me up over the past couple of months, but I am definitely ready to stretch my legs. And the train is always my favorite way to get there.
It's too bad that I don't have an extra $1000. I definitely have the three days it would take for Amtrak to get me across the country. And those sleeper cars sure look nifty! I wonder just how nice it would be to see the United States from the window of a train car...
Tomorrow, I begin the beginning of the journey north. I'm catching the train to Harrisburg where my brother will put me up over night, and then send me to the airport. I fly to Oregon and then the real preparations begin.
KT thinks that being ready to leave within the week would be exceeding expectations and I think that's alright. That would give us more time to have all things in order (we're driving to ALASKA for heaven's sake!), and the weather more time to start acting its age!
I'm so excited to be moving again. Small side trips to Michigan and DC for visits with Monster Librarian and Amos have perked me up over the past couple of months, but I am definitely ready to stretch my legs. And the train is always my favorite way to get there.
It's too bad that I don't have an extra $1000. I definitely have the three days it would take for Amtrak to get me across the country. And those sleeper cars sure look nifty! I wonder just how nice it would be to see the United States from the window of a train car...
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