Ryan's Journal

Crossed the Brooks Range today and am now traveling through tundra and small hills that extend to the horizon. The hunters who are out and about are insuring that most animals stay away from the road, although there were about twenty Dall sheep while crossing over Atigun Pass, the highest point on the highway. I’m tremendously impressed with the wildness up here, and given the open tundra hopefully will be doing a lot of hiking tomorrow — this is muskox land, and I’m going to find them even if I freeze important body parts while trying.

Shortly after setting out this morning I came to a road block and discovered that the highway had been shut down until 9:00 PM for bridge repair. This turned out to be a good thing as it got me out of the car and hiking in a place that I would have passed up otherwise. There was a lot of thick brush surrounding the road, but I stumbled on a pipeline access road that led through the brush and above treeline. I then spent five hours roaming the tundra and climbing to two small ridges that afforded awesome views. The plants on the tundra are all tiny and often completely alien from the sort of plant-life I’m used to — I found one little plant that was about an inch high and emitted a cloud of smoke when I touched it, while others looked more like something that would be found under the ocean. Even though I’m five miles from the Arctic Circle the weather was warm enough that a t-shirt was often sufficient, but the Brooks Range on the northern horizon is completely snow-covered, reminding me that today’s warm weather is probably just a fluke.

The condition of the Elliott and Dalton Highways has improved dramatically since I was last here in 1994 — the seventy miles of the Elliott Highway leading to the start of the Dalton Highway are now all paved, and the Dalton Highway itself, once a road described by a travel guide as “anus-clenching”, has several long paved stretches scattered along its 414 miles. Maybe I will be able to make it up to the Brooks Range and beyond after all.

Stopped for a bit at a roadhouse this morning that had a sign out front reading “Not a single mosquito out here… they are all married with large families”. Luckily the mosquitoes are mostly gone after mid-August. Talked to the folks at the roadhouse, and they were nicest people you could ever hope to meet. They’ve been up here for years and years and have twenty-three kids, eighteen adopted. The people in Alaska are like no where else I’ve ever been — very down-to-earth, independent, and full of an appreciation of how great life is. There are of course also a fair number of cranky old-timers and slightly crazy folks to keep things interesting.

The country along the Dalton Highway is almost completely wild, with views to the horizon of nothing but mountains, evergreens, and golden birch trees. No radio stations, no cell phone coverage, almost no services — the sort of environment where the “civilized” world fades into memory. Today is definitely looking like it’s going to be a good one.

The wild places of the Kenai Peninsula are best visited by boat, but unfortunately a kayak is hard to come by after Labor Day. As a result I decided to head north again. I stopped for several hours yesterday along Turnagain Arm watching for belugas, and a group of four passed just twenty yards out from the rocky point I was sitting on. Unfortunately no more whales came by before it got too dark to see, but four whales at twenty yards was nonetheless a special experience.

Today it snowed while driving back towards Denali, and now that I’m here the mountain peaks are white and most of the trees are completely bare — I’m hopeful that winter will stay away for a bit longer, since the park road opens an additional fifteen miles in five days, weather permitting, and miles twenty to thirty are prime spots for wolves. Until then I’m going to head north of Fairbanks and perhaps drive just a bit of the Dalton Highway — that road is notorious for killing cars, so most likely I won’t be going too far.

Stopped for a shower last night (the owner cleaned with enough Clorox that even Vicki would have been proud) and was a new man by the time I went to bed. Woke up at 4:30 to an absolutely amazing display of the northern lights — they’re tough to describe, so please forgive the bad analogies, but unlike the first time where I was reminded of a slow-burning fire, last night they were sort of flashing and reminded me more of the fountain outside of the Bellagio. They faded after an hour, but I’m hopeful that there will be an encore performance tonight.

Heading down along the coast towards Homer today. I knew the tides on Cook Inlet were extreme, but apparently they’re the second most extreme in the world behind the Bay of Fundy — last September a tide was recorded that differed forty-one feet from low tide to high tide, and differences of at least thirty feet are common.

Hiked up to the Harding Ice Field today in Kenai Fjords National Park. This trail joins the Half Dome trail in Yosemite and the Bright Angel trail in the Grand Canyon as one of my all-time favorites — it’s only four miles one-way, but the elevation changes two or three thousand feet and the terrain is rough so it’s definitely not easy. On one side of the trail is a valley containing the massive Exit Glacier, and on the other is a steep slope grazed by mountain goats. The whole way up the views were amazing, my heart was pumping, my legs were burning, and I knew what it meant to be alive.

About half way up the trail the 750 square mile Harding Ice Field comes into view, and the crevasses of Exit Glacier begin glowing blue in the light. Once at the top the ice field stretches off to the horizon, with mountain peaks barely sticking out of the ice here and there to serve as reminders of just how massive the ice field really is. There’s also a small storm shelter near the end of the trail, and inside are hundreds of messages written on the walls by people who have hiked the trail — most are brief quotes of utter joy with a name and date attached. Anyone hiking the trail in the future can try to find a few short words left by a traveller from California on September 9, 2002. An amazing day.

Went out for an eight hour boat trip today — the trip started out with four bald eagles flying in a tight group, was followed by nearly a dozen sea otters floating together, and included sea lions, seals, many glaciers, puffins, and thousands of big jellyfish. Pretty cool trip. I spent almost the entire time out on the bow of the boat, and it was cold so I was taking advantage of the free coffee — must have drank about seven cups, and as a result discovered that certain bodily functions are considerably more difficult while on a boat being tossed around by the waves.

Hanging out in Seward today. Tried to rent a kayak, but of the places I checked one closes for the season tomorrow, and at the other no one seemed to know where the owner has disappeared to — I’m told that’s normal for Seward. As a result I ended up just booking a spot on a boat trip to see the Kenai Fjords tomorrow.

I spent nearly an hour talking to an older fellow who was living outside of town — he shared conspiracy theories about his neighbors (his across the street neighbor is a retired school principal who is “trying to take control of all of us”) and imparted such wise tidbits as: “Good people chop wood, and low-lifes go to bars. I don’t like chopping wood, but that doesn’t matter ’cause it’s mighty warm in those bars.”

The Seward Highway parallels the Turnagain Arm south of Anchorage, and while driving this route and watching the tide come in a pod of about a hundred beluga whales appeared in the water not more than thirty yards offshore, swimming in with the tide. Watching that many white whales swim by practically a stone’s throw away is a damn cool way to spend a half hour.

Drove to Valdez today, but for what was offered the trips out onto Prince William Sound were out of my price range so I’m headed off to the Kenai Peninsula instead.

I’ve gotten almost no news since leaving, so I looked at a newspaper in Valdez and the front story was about Bush wanting Congressional approval to go to war with Iraq — I normally steer clear from politics, but unless something crazy has happened in the last month I found this idea scary as hell. What is going on back in the lower forty-eight???

Woke up at 5:30 this morning and stopped in Cantwell to do laundry and shower (so nice!). Planned to take a couple of days driving across the Denali Highway, but the Alaska DOT no longer maintains the dirt road, and only ten miles into it I popped a tire. Drove the remaining 125 miles through bright reds and yellows on the tundra, but didn’t stop anywhere for too long as I was nervous about not having another spare. The plan is to fix the tire first thing in the morning, and after that depends on what the morning brings.

I’m watching the northern lights for the first time in my life, and I don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep tonight. There are a small number of events in this world that people always take the time to stop what they’re doing and admire — sunsets, rainbows, fireworks — the northern lights definitely belong in that group. They’re one of those things that until you see them you simply have no concept that beauty of that kind exists — I’ve seen photos and videos, but actually watching the entire night sky bend and twist with myriad lights, almost like the afterimage of some heavenly fire, is an experience unlike anything I could have imagined.

Another excellent day — absolutely perfect weather, which was much appreciated after the recent rain. Woke up, threw on my last pair of dry socks, and within a half hour of starting out hiking came across an enormous bull moose — he was like an elephant with antlers. I watched him from about fifty yards, and given the generally open terrain and his constant grunts I had no desire to get any closer. It was still very cool, although I somehow lost him after less than an hour — he wandered off, I tried to follow, but between the high willow and trying to make sure I didn’t get too close he disappeared. Any pride I had in my tracking ability is gone.

Hiked a bit more, accidentally spooked a fox on the way back to camp, packed up my tent, and then began heading back along the park road. The plan was to hike for maybe ten miles and then catch a camper bus, but after about four miles I stumbled upon a grizzly next to the road eating blueberries. Not wanting to either get too close or to have to bushwhack around him I waited for him to head off, but after forty-five minutes discovered that this bear was apparently in the world’s best blueberry patch and wasn’t going anywhere. Hopped on the next bus and got some photos of the grizzly at short range from the safety of the vehicle. A few Dall sheep ewes later made an appearance right along the road (probably five feet from the bus) and another grizzly showed up at a distance, and then it was back to the Subaru and time for warm stew, which after five days of peanuts and dried pineapple tasted utterly delicious.

Mostly spending the day hanging out by the beaver ponds and trying to dry out after yesterday’s soaking. There was some sun early in the morning, but it has since gotten cloudy and considerably colder. A bit of hiking might be nice, but after yesterday I’m rather concerned about the number of clouds hanging across the horizon.

Three caribou came through my campsite last night, passing within fifty feet of my tent. It was pretty neat. There’s also a family of at least three beavers who let me know any time something comes near their pond by slapping their tails against the water. Kind of a cool spot to be camped in.

Wet and cold, but surprisingly not unhappy. My permit required me to move to a new area today, but given the weather I was going to stay put and only after a long break in the rain decided to move on. The weather break turned out to be temporary, and shortly after getting on my way it was raining again — backpacking through waist-high brush in a cold rain is no fun, and I was soaked in a very short time. However, as things were becoming completely miserable a flock of perhaps two hundred sandhill cranes flew by overhead, I saw two big bull moose rutting with one another, and when finally I’d reached the area my permit was for I found an idyllic little spot on a hilltop between two beaver ponds to pitch the tent, so while today was a rough one, it would be tough to call it a bad day.

“I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I intended to be.”

– Douglas Adams

The night’s camping spot is a few miles east from the terminus of the thirty-two mile long Muldrow Glacier and along the McKinley Bar, a mile-wide expanse of gravel, mud, and meltwater that extends from the terminus of the glacier. A caribou was crossing the many channels of the bar earlier today, and twice had to swim through deep, fast-moving water, and many, many times had to wade across channels that often were as deep as its shoulder.

Today has been a good day — sun in the morning, views of the mountain while on the bus out here, and then perhaps eight miles of hiking before clouds moved in and I set up camp. I’m almost afraid to get in the tent and go to sleep for fear of missing something — I was lucky to see the caribou, and can only guess at what else might pop out of the brush as the evening wears on.

I didn’t get out of Fairbanks until 10:00 last night, and after driving fifty miles with the moose rutting season beginning and the conditions dark, rainy and foggy I decided it wasn’t worth risking either the life of a moose or the Subaru, and pulled off the road for the evening. Spent almost two hours reading through e-mails and catching up on news that I downloaded while in Fairbanks — thanks to everyone who wrote, it’s definitely nice to find out what’s happening back at home. The saga caused by my lack of wool socks was especially amusing — the Fairbanks K-Mart luckily solved the sock dilemna, so hopefully everyone can once again sleep soundly

The intention today was to only do a short bit of hiking, but after starting out I spotted five caribou about two miles away and decided to go and hang out with them. Without realizing I was doing it I started giving them names, and after a couple of hours Scooby and Darlene had gotten comfortable enough with me around that they wandered to within about twenty-five feet. The big bull that was leading the group, Melvin, was a bit grumpier, and refused to let me or any of the other caribou get too close to him.

Tomorrow I’m going out for five days of backpacking, starting near the terminus of the Muldrow glacier and heading towards Wonder Lake. The fall colors have gotten even more spectacular, so unless the weather turns really bad it should be a memorable time.

Did just a short bit of hiking near Savage river this morning looking for caribou, but they were in hiding. Despite having good weather yet again I needed to get a few things so I left the park early in the afternoon and headed up to Fairbanks to re-supply. While here I grabbed a shower, which was very a good thing. There was a mirror in the shower place, and I’m definitely looking lean — it was actually a bit of a surprise seeing my own reflection as I didn’t think I’d been losing weight.

I ran into the guys who had been volunteering in Juneau for a third time today at the park visitor center — if I believed in fate I would send in my application for their volunteer program immediately, but as it is I’m still strongly considering it.

Any grievances I had against the weather gods are completely forgiven after the past three days. Woke up this morning with not a cloud in the sky — the mountain stood out perfectly, and I grabbed a camera and headed out to grab some photos of Denali reflected from the lake. In the afternoon I did a bit of hiking down the McKinley Bar trail to the hugely braided river at the base of the Muldrow glacier. It was odd — having a trail actually somewhat lessens the nature experience since suddenly there is a path and a destination, and constantly stopping to pick out a route, and thus take in the surroundings, is no longer required.

Caught the last camper bus of the day and rode back with two of the individuals who had been on the bus out to Wonder Lake, and later we picked up a hiker who turned out to be the driver from the bus ride two days ago. The two guys on the bus had been volunteering in Juneau for the past year and filled me with tales of life in Juneau, salmon, kayaking, and other good things. Something to consider.

A last, rather random story, but a lot of older people at the campground were talking about seeing the northern lights last night. One fellow was saying “I got up at 11:00 but didn’t see them, but they were out at 1:00 and 3:30.” Another individual gave me a similar story, and then a third. I was amazed that so many people were getting up to check on the lights, and said so to the third individual, to which he replied “Shoot, I didn’t get up looking for the lights, it’s my bladder that gets me up every few hours.”

Robert Frost had two trails in a yellow wood to choose from — up here there are no trails, and I think it makes the experience even better. The weather was again sunny and dry today, and I took advantage by spending ten hours out roaming around Wonder Lake. Started out up a high ridge above the lake and spent tons of time roaming through the tundra, eating wild blueberries, and investigating the many kettle ponds — at a particularly nice pond I settled down in the moss for a nap, and when I woke up felt so relaxed that I immediately took another. By the afternoon it had warmed up so much that I was in just a t-shirt whenever there was enough breeze to keep the insects at bay. Everywhere I went I was surrounded by signs of moose, grizzly and wolves, but only when I crossed the park road at the north end of the lake did I see or hear any other people. When coming back along the east side of the lake I stuck close to the water, and was moseying along until a thunderstorm snuck up behind me. After that I set a new speed record for tundra traversal as I put it into high gear back to my camping spot, beating the storm by less than ten minutes. I’m physically worn out, but it has been a thoroughly relaxing and enjoyable day.

The only way that days get better than today is when they’re shared, so hopefully everyone can at least somewhat share today with me by reading this log. I woke up at 1:00 AM last night and saw stars in the sky for the first time in weeks. Got up to search for the northern lights, and while there was a glow in the southeast it may have only been moonlight reflecting off of high clouds. Woke up early this morning to board the first camper bus out to Wonder Lake — the road through Denali is closed past Savage River so buses are the only way to travel further. On the trip through the park we saw several animals including a bull moose (the moose count now stands at five), a fox, and two grizzly bears. One of the grizzlies was digging for roots along a stream and worked his way to within ten feet of the bus — I could make out every single hair on his immense body. It was an awesome experience.

After arriving at Wonder Lake the sun came out for the first time in ages, and Denali (Mt. McKinley) began to peek out — the mountain hasn’t been out from behind the clouds in at least a week, and is usually only visible a few days a month, yet for the whole afternoon I had at least a partial view of the entire north face — it’s an amazingly beautiful mountain that dwarfs everything around it. I spent seven hours roaming through the tundra, eating wild blueberries, and lying down in meadows watching the scenery. Sandhill cranes were calling out (next to wolves and loons, one of the most stirring sounds I’ve heard in the wild) and the trails I occasionally followed were filled with moose tracks, but no footprints. The day ended with two and a half pounds of warm stew, and now I’m curled up comfortably in my tent waiting for what tomorrow might bring.

“Boredom, Tyler. Boredom, that’s what’s wrong. And how do you beat boredom? Adventure, Tyler. Adventure!”

– Never Cry Wolf

The weather was actually reasonably good this morning, so I again set out for Savage River and hiked back into the same general area where I went yesterday. There were five caribou back there this time, but the group was very skittish and seemed to be nervous even when I was two hundred yards away, so I let them be.

Spent almost five hours out hiking on the tundra. There are no maintained trails, so to get around I either had to find my own trail or follow the game trails. The fall colors were great, and having the entire countryside to myself was definitely a nice thing. Twice today I had to ford a stream, but after yesterday’s lesson I avoided missteps and didn’t end up taking any unforeseen plunges. Storms moved in during the late afternoon so the day ended early, but it’s nevertheless been another good one.

It turns out that Savage River parallels the park road, and while hiking I noticed that a lot of people were stopping their cars and staring out in my direction (“Stop the RV, Earl! What sort of weird-lookin’ critter is that?”) so I decided to cross to the opposite side of the river and head away from the road. The water was full of silt, and the next time I attempt to ford a river in Alaska I’ll remember to first check the depth in places where I can’t see the bottom.

Once on the other side of the river I started out across a thicket and nearly walked in amongst a group of four big caribou before noticing them resting about a hundred yards away. It took about twenty minutes for them to get completely comfortable with having me around, but after that they pretty much ignored my existence, occasionally grazing to within about sixty feet of me. It was another very cool experience — having four caribou, including one huge old bull, wandering around that close to me is something I’ll remember for a long time to come.

After a few hours the rain got heavier so I left the caribou and started back, and an hour or so later I arrived at the Subaru thoroughly soaked but very happy.

Rain in the morning, so I slept late and then headed off to do laundry and take a shower. People really should build monuments to the inventor of the shower — warm and clean is a combination that is near impossible to beat.

The sky is completely full of low, grey clouds, leading me to think that it’s going to rain hard at any minute, but thus far there has only been drizzle. I’m going to tempt fate and set off for a hike upstream on Savage River — the trails all go downstream but I’m convinced there are caribou hiding in the thickets upstream. Hopefully the weather gods will be kind and forgo soaking me and my now clean and dry clothes.

An unexpectedly great day. Woke up to drizzle and headed off to Savage River with low expectations. While trying to find a better angle to photograph a waterfall I started making my way up a mountain slope, and as the weather was mostly dry I decided what the hell and kept going. After a bit of free-climbing and much bushwhacking through thickets I was near the top and spotted three Dall sheep rams — two of them with horns that made a complete loop plus some. After sitting and watching them for about an hour the oldest one got up and moved on, so I followed, only to discover that he had just gone about ten feet down a ledge — I nearly walked right on top of him. He ambled off, but when I again found him he gave me the once over, then came within fifty feet of me and laid down! We ended up sticking together for most of the afternoon, with two golden eagles flying by occasionally to check on things. Aside from a few planes passing overhead it was a completely magical time.

At the end of the day the sheep and I finally parted ways, and the hike down the mountain again involved much bushwhacking through thickets. After driving back to my “camping” spot near the highway I sat down to warm food — it was tremendous to once again eat food that wasn’t cold, and it could have even been hot food had I not been too hungry to cook it longer. Life is most definitely good.

Moose! Finally! A mother and her calf appeared along the road in Denali and then wandered to within six feet of my passenger window. They were so close that I could not only tell the mother’s eyes were bloodshot, but I could see the individual blood vessels.

Tons of rain today, although I still did a bit of hiking along Savage River in Denali. After a morning in Fairbanks the car has fresh oil and the tire is patched, so all is well. Also, the day’s most important discovery, surpassing even the moose sighting, was butane for my stove at the Denali mercantile. There will be no more cold soup — the next time I eat canned soup it will be warm, oh yes.

Arrived in Alaska today after driving the “Top of the World” Highway from Dawson City. After about 75 miles the spare-tire-in-can® sprung a leak, so I was forced to go to the more reliable spare-tire-from-the-trunk®. Also of note is that my supposed alignment trouble turned out to be nothing more than unbalanced tires — despite the fact that I used $6 worth of pressure wash yesterday trying to get all of the mud out of the tires, enough remained to seriously throw them out of balance. $4 more pressure wash allowed me to drive at fifty without too much shaking (improved from thirty before washing), although I finally had to take each individual tire off of the car and chisel out the remaining mud with a screwdriver before I could get up to highway speeds.

The first stop in Alaska was Fairbanks to patch the tire and get an oil change. I arrived too late to do either, and was going to stay outside of town, but instead opted to visit Alaska Land and their salmon bake. Three salmon fillets, fifteen halibut chunks, and two plates of blueberries later I’m feeling quite happy. The “camping” spot for the night is the parking lot of the K-Mart, so I’m hoping that the cops won’t feel the need to patrol the lot tonight.

More wet weather this morning so I made the decision to start back to Dawson City. Went slowly, enjoying the fall colors and the occasional sun. Spotted two river otters who were kind of hunting for fish, but mostly just playing along the river, and couldn’t help but smile while watching them.

Visions of hot food were dancing in my head as I got closer to Dawson City, and I probably started driving too fast given the wet dirt road. As a result, after getting to Dawson City I heard air coming from one of my tires, and my spare-tire-in-a-can® is now all used up. The car is still having issues however — any time I go over thirty it begins shaking, so I’m guessing my alignment is hosed as well and I’ll be spending some time at the local garage tomorrow before heading on. On a side note, washing all of the mud off of the car took twenty minutes — I had almost forgotten that the Subaru wasn’t brown.

Hopefully I’ll be able to return to the Dempster on the way home as the countryside is beyond incredible, and by October the 130,000 member Porcupine caribou herd should be returning for the winter (see http://www.taiga.net/satellite/index.html). Anyone coming up here who has the time, consider driving at least the first hundred miles — you won’t regret it.

After snowing very early this morning the day has been one without precipitation, and the sun has even made appearances on several occasions. As a result the entire day has been filled with roaming across the tundra, hiking up mountains, taking photos, and making the acquaintance of the largest (and sleepiest) porcupine I’ve ever seen. The only downside of dry weather is that the local black fly population has come out to play, but a mosquito net kept them more or less at bay.

Coffee again at the Eagle Lodge, and it tasted even better this time. Also splurged and at the Arctic Circle crossing used some of my dwindling butane to cook the day’s meal — hot chili definitely hit the spot after almost a week of cold soup.

It is definitely ironic that with eighteen hours of daylight the sun almost never appears. It popped out briefly this afternoon and I set out for a hike, but the weather gods were playing a trick on me, and an hour and a half later I was being pelted by hailstones the size of peas. Still, what hiking I’ve been able to do has been spectacular.

After crossing the Peel river yesterday I was able to get CBC North on the radio. The locals apparently use the radio station like a pager service, so between songs (selections included Loretta Lynn, Elvis, Neil Young, and Waylan Jennings) the DJ reads messages that have been phoned in. My two favorites were “Jimmy, we’re leaving in ten minutes, come home” and “Whoever just called 2442, please call back.” Two others that stood out were “Hi everyone, it’s John, I’ve just returned” which was followed less than three minutes later by “John, I heard you were back. Stop by for some stew.”

Heavy snow in the morning, and rain most of the rest of the day. It stopped for a few hours late in the afternoon and I was able to do a couple of hours of hiking — went up to a ridge and then through the tundra, tremendously peaceful. Drove as far as the Mackenzie river crossing today (mile 377), but after the Peel river there are a couple of settlements and things began to feel “crowded” so I decided to turn around. There was an odd smell and a tiny bit of smoke coming from behind two of the tires on the way back, but with any luck that won’t turn out to be anything too serious.

Crossed the Arctic Circle about thirty miles ago, and met a fellow at the crossing who is biking up the Dempster. Definitely an impressive feat, but given the fact that it was probably about twenty degrees out with the wind chill I didn’t want to trade places with him. The wind has only gotten stronger since then, and it’s now raining as well so hopefully he has a good tent and is curled up warmly in it.

While hiking through the tundra this morning the moss was so thick in places that I could almost bounce on it like a trampoline — at times the ground dropped a foot with each step. The variety of little plants that color the ground out here is amazing, and the solitude is as complete as it could possibly be.

The only services thus far have been at the Eagle Plains lodge at mile 230. With the wind howling and temperatures in the thirties, $1.50 for a styrofoam cup of coffee seemed a bargain.

A grizzly made his appearance this morning and meandered along the river bank for several minutes before wandering back into the forest again. Saw tons of moose and grizzly prints while hiking, and also what looked like wolf and caribou prints, although they were old so I couldn’t be sure.

Snow early this morning, and overcast most of the rest of the day, so not many photo opportunities, but the country is amazing — the Dempster is a recommended drive for anyone coming up this way. Ate lunch on a gravel bar along a river, and am camped out tonight on a high ridge with a view that extends for perhaps a hundred miles. This trip is filling me with a sense of what it really means to be alive — hopefully everyone reading this journal can share in that feeling at least a little bit.

For a dirt road the Dempster Highway seems to be in excellent shape, so there’s no reason why the Subaru shouldn’t make it to the Arctic Circle and probably a fair bit beyond. It’s gotten a lot colder — there were actually a few flakes of snow a couple hours ago — but it’s no longer raining and the forecast is for sun, so I’m hopeful. Given good light the photos from up here should be memorable.

No big animals at all today, including moose. I’m utterly baffled. Also of note is that Progresso soup tastes just fine when not cooked, which is a very lucky thing since Dawson City didn’t sell the right size butane cannisters for my portable stove, leaving me with just enough butane to cook maybe one more meal, two if I’m lucky.

The person who invented the shower should be sainted, or knighted, or something. God bless them.

It rained all morning, but the sun came out about an hour ago, so I’m hoping to finish up the laundry and start up the Dempster in the next few hours. I may be up there for anywhere from a couple of days to a couple of weeks, so if there aren’t any updates to this journal please hold off on calling out the mounties after me.

Dawson City is a fun little town, although expensive — gas is about $2.70 / gallon vs. $1.60 / gallon just across the border. With the sun out it’s rather pretty here, and the townsfolk definitely seem to tend toward the “colorful” side of the personality spectrum, making for some interesting people watching.

The Yukon Territory definitely gets the seal of approval. It’s full of trees, mountains, lakes, rivers, and not much else. In addition to the countryside, today I discovered the Braeburn Lodge cinnamon bun — it’s about a foot in diameter and three or four inches thick. A beautiful creation like this cinnamon bun is what happens when men are left alone in the North, and I support it wholeheartedly.

After leaving the Cassier Highway and then following the Alaska Highway for about 250 miles I stopped in Whitehorse to wash all of the mud off of the Subaru (there was a lot of mud), then traveled another sixty miles up the Klondike Highway. The plan is to make a stop in Dawson City tomorrow and then start up the Dempster Highway — hopefully the car will hold up well enough to make it at least to the Arctic Circle and allow me to do a bit of hiking. Dawson City supposedly has a laundromat with showers, so if all goes well I’ll be clean in all possible ways before embarking into the tundra.

The lack of moose is beginning to become disturbing.

I don’t have the words to describe the country I’ve been passing through today, so for anyone reading this, please consider driving the Cassier Highway (highway 37) in British Columbia at some point in your life. There is a lodge perhaps every fifty miles or so, but otherwise it’s just wilderness up here, and it’s the kind of rugged wilderness that makes a person feel spiritual again. I won’t even try to describe it further as I’m sure I’d fail to do the country justice.

Most of the day has been cloudy, although the mountains along the Alaska panhandle and their many glaciers have occasionally peeked out to the west. The second black bear of the trip made his appearance this morning, munching on wildflowers just off of the road for a few minutes before making his way back into the woods. Dozens of big, bright red sockeye salmon were powering their way through shallow rapids in a creek I stopped at, and loons, geese, and ducks have also made occasional appearances. The moose remain surprisingly elusive, but there must be legions of them out there somewhere.

The camp spot tonight is in a primitive “campground” on the shores of a big mountain lake that the forest service apparently left here for anyone who stumbles upon it. My attempts to clear out the local horde of mosquitoes by building a smokey campfire failed, so I’m forced to write this from the shelter of the Subaru. Tomorrow I’ll most likely finish the last 150 miles along the Cassier Highway before it ends at the Alaska Highway and crosses into the Yukon Territory.

Mostly just driving today — since leaving Green Lake I’ve covered almost 550 miles. Nice country — lots of small farms, lakes, streams, and horses. Not counting Prince George, I’ve only passed through nine or ten big towns, and to give some idea of “big”, Smithers was one of the bigger towns and is supposedly population 6,000. My present camping spot is located down a random dirt road that was marked “Danger! Unmaintained!” After about a mile the road entered a meadow at the base of a mountain, and I’m now typing from that meadow while watching the stars beginning to poke out.

The trip’s first bear made his appearance earlier today — the biggest black bear I’ve ever seen crossed the road at a trot perhaps 200 meters away. Early in the morning there were ospreys and a few eagles out, but they seem to have disappeared. Still no moose, but they’re out there, probably eating pond scum somewhere.

While cooking Chunky soup for dinner tonight the portable stove burned the bottom quarter of an inch of the can and didn’t cook at all above that. I ate the soup raw (tasted damn good, too — hunger does funny things to the taste buds) but I’ll either have to figure out another way to cook canned goods or else I’ll have to be sure to be hungry enough every night that cold soup tastes good .

Today was the day to buy supplies. I decided on canned goods, partly because they’ll keep for a while, but mostly because they don’t have any smell so I can keep them in the car without attracting bears. The final tally (I’m hoping this lasts at least a month):

+ (21) 18 oz. cans Progresso soup

+ (12) 15 oz. cans assorted Chef Boyardee

+ (2) 40 oz. cans assorted Chef Boyardee

+ (16) 6 oz. cans tuna

+ (6) 40 oz. cans Ditty Moore beef stew

+ (8) 15 oz. cans Hormel turkey chili

+ (4) 20 oz. cans chunked pineapple

+ (1) windshield repair kit

+ (1) “spare-tire-in-a-can”®

Real food is going to taste damn good after getting back from this trip.

Drove from Everett to Green Lake Provincial park (350 miles?). Highway one in Canada is highly recommended, as are the backroads of Washington. Highway one was especially nice — it travels through a huge canyon for perhaps seventy miles, and the scenery is like Yosemite but with many more pine trees. Once the canyon ends it’s wide open, rolling hills, followed by a typical northern scene with aspens and beaver ponds. Once I stopped driving I went for a run along Green Lake on a horse trail through the birches and past fields full of flowers and golden grasses. The turnaround point for the run was a huge pasture filled with probably fifty horses — this was far and away the best run I’ve had in ages. Yet another good day.

Ma and Pa Holliday have taken it upon themselves to feed me and make sure I shower tonight, so I’m currently living it up in the Everett Best Western. Joined the folks for dinner (they’re on their way to Vancouver) and will soon be enjoying a much-needed shower. I haven’t yet noticed that people were keeping their distance from me, but after running every day and then sleeping in the car I doubt that my sink baths have been adequate.

Spent a short time at Mt. St. Helen’s today — great place — and then made my way up to Mt. Ranier. I very nearly managed to escape without doing any hiking, but pulled a U-turn at Sunrise and did a quick hike up to a ridge overlooking the mountain. I’ll have to write more later as Ma and Pa require attention.

While the redwoods this morning were great, once I got onto I-5 and into Oregon things got a bit less exciting — any state where pumping your own gas is illegal is suspect to begin with, and several hundred miles on the interstate didn’t make for any lasting moments. The afternoon’s highlight came when I began filling the tank at the Shell station only to find a rather scary looking man standing behind me saying “You’re in the wrong state for that. Did you know last year over 800 people lit themselves on fire while pumping gas? Better give me the pump.” There was a tale that followed about a guy hauling a barrel of diesel and a spark of static electricity, but fun stories like that one really need to be told in person.

After arriving in Washington I tried to take the direct route up to Seattle, but Mt. St. Helen’s was calling to me, and despite my best efforts to stay the course I’m now camped out in the national forest adjoining the mountain. The plan for tomorrow is to get up early and make brief visits to Mt. St. Helen’s and Mt. Ranier before getting back on the road to Alaska and hopefully making the most of the remaining good weather up there. Whether or not I can actually visit Mt. Ranier without getting out and hiking ten miles remains to be seen.

The trip began yesterday with a head-shaving. The initial cast of characters was myself, my brother, and Chi, although before all was said and done two more had joined the fray. It began with my brother announcing “I want to shave the dome”, was followed by the unlikely response of “Go for it” from me, and immediately proceeded with Chi’s “Dude, you’re letting him shave your dome?!?” Three(!) pairs of clippers, and what seemed like about ten pounds of hair later and the once-proud Holliday locks have been reduced to something that could probably best be described as “fuzzy”. Definite thanks to Adam for coming in to give me a nice fade and clean up the horrible mockery of a haircut that my brother had given me.

After saying goodbye to Aaron, Chi, Adam and friends the last errand I had to run was to renew my driver’s license, and after an ungodly long time at the DMV I finally got onto the road. Nadia will be pleased to learn that “Where the Streets Have No Name” was indeed the song that kicked the trip off, followed soon after by the entire Graceland album. Drove up 101, through Napa and into the mountains, and spent the night sleeping comfortably in the back of the car about twenty miles south of Redwood National Park.

Today I’ve just been kind of moseying along, and after talking to Zac about Stout grove I had to at least make a brief visit. I went for a short run after arriving, and have just been roaming around since. It may sound a bit corny, but when it’s quiet in the grove and no else is around it’s almost possible to feel the trees — not in any sort of physical sense, but more as just an overwhelming peacefulness. Not a bad way to start a trip.