Thanks for viewing Northern Exposure, a chronicle of 35 days in a Born Free motorhome as I made my way from eastern Tennessee, through Sturgis, SD and on to Alaska and North Dakota. It's a quick read, with lots of pictures. Start by arrowing over to the right and clicking on the arrow by August. Then, click on the "Trip's On" post. The official journey begins on Day 4. After you finish that post, just click on the successive posts through August and September and finish with "The End of the Line". Hope you enjoy it. Feel free to comment.
Bill Dodgen
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
The End of the Line
Comments -- Off the Blog
Summit Software, Inc. was my employer from 1982 until 2008. It was a great 26 year run, and during that time, I must have made 120 or more business trips to the offices of clients in various cities throughout America. I never found the travel to be tiresome. At some point, I realized that I had spent a week or more with clients in all but just a few states. During the last ten years with Summit, the list of unvisited states slowly shrunk. When a prospect from one of the remaining states would call, I would put on the "sell" a little harder. Often, it worked and another was crossed off the list. However, two states, Alaska and North Dakota, remained on the list for several years prior to the sale of the company. We received very few calls from prospects located in these two states during those last few years, and when we did, they were either turned off by the hard sell, or they sensed some desperation on my part. In either case, they decided to take a pass. The company was sold in 2008, but my dream of visiting all fifty states did not wane, and I started planning this trip over two years ago in an effort to meet that personal goal. About 6:00 pm on Day 33 of the trip, I reached North Dakota and the final state was checked off the list.
If I've learned anything about the states, it's that they're like the people that populate them--vastly different. Some are spectacular and stunning in their beauty, while others are simple, frumpy or even haggard. Some, quite intelligent and others challenged that way. Many are quite moody, and have personalities that change dramatically with the seasons. To that regard, I regret not having yet had the opportunity to experience the harsher sides of Alaska's and North Dakota's personalities, which I'm sure will both begin to reveal themselves within the next few months. (No, that's not a plant for a Northern Exposure sequel.) I must admit that I favor some states over others. Iowa will always be my home state. It's where my roots are; where I attended high school and college; where I was married and where all three of my children were born. I have loved skiing in Colorado, and Summit County, CO was the inspiration for the name of my company. Idaho is a state to which I could easily relocate, as is New Hampshire, and several others. We have many good friends in Arkansas. And for the time being, I'm comfortable where I'm at in eastern Tennessee. Of course, these are personal preferences, and I do appreciate each of the states for the valuable contributions it makes to our nation. I'm very happy to be able to say that I have now met all fifty of them.
Okay, back to the blog to document how it happened.
Days 31 and 32 -- Back to Bozeman
Crossing Montana, I just managed to stay ahead of spotty rainstorms.
And I located an interesting place to hide, if you're a bear
Day 33 -- Mission Accomplished
I left Bozeman, MT bright and early today and headed for Bismarck, ND. The "Big Sky" label that is hung on Montana is not a misnomer by any stretch. How would you like to have the breathing room that folks in this town have?
Just a few miles from the North Dakota border I spotted a long train of fully loaded coal cars heading East. It feels like you're viewing a painting seeing them from such a long range view. You can easily see an entire 140-car train. I was travelling at nearly 70 mph, so it didn't take too long for me to catch up with it.
I did so, just as an train of empty coal cars met us, heading west back to Montana.
Several minutes later I pulled over at the sign welcoming visitors to North Dakota. This was the picture I had been waiting to snap for so many years.
I wished that I had thought to bring along a New Year's Eve noise maker just for this celebration. But I hadn't and I seriously thought for a second or two about grabbing a couple of pans from the motorhome to clang together. As I made an about face from the welcome sign, there was the coal train that I had passed. It was only 300 yards away, and its bright light was staring me down. I snapped this picture of it as it approached.
and immediately thereafter, the BNSF engineer responded with a long pull on his train horn. I tipped my hat to him and gave him a firm salute, and he responded again, this time with four quick pulls. Scout's honor--I'm mot making this up. I wished for a noise maker to help mark this moment, and, by golly, I got one!
About an hour into North Dakota, you see badlands type topography
and the painted canyon
I also began to see fields of corn again. It had been nearly a month since I had seen any, and it made me feel close to home. Crossing back into the Central Time Zone, I lost another hour, and it was quite dark as I settled in at Bismark for the night.
Favorite road sign of the day
Imagine the football rivalry between Camel Hump and Sentinel Butte. I can just hear the chant. "Go Camel Hump. Kick Sentinal...", well you can finish it.
Day 34 -- Dance with the one what brung ya.
There's an Oak Ridge Boys song in which the lyrics proclaim, "When the sun always shines, there's a desert below. It takes a little rain to make love grow." It helps put into perspective a long, all-day soaker, like the one we're having here in North Dakota today. It was pouring down pretty good here in Bismark as I headed out for Fargo, which is forecast to receive over three inches of rain today. Ironic that this is the last official day of the trip and it's the first and only one on the entire trip that I would call rainy. I'm wondering if I should turn south and avoid Fargo altogether. But I loved the movie, and I'd like to see that stretch of road where Margie looked at the frozen air and said to the suspect she had just apprehended by the wood chipper, "And look... it's a beautiful day out there today." So, I reckon I'll press on to Fargo, don't ya know?
There must be an inordinate number of skunks in the state of North Dakota, judging from the numbers I've encountered as road kill. Either that, or I'm just used to driving in Arkansas and Tennessee, where the road kill is "cleaned up" quicker than it is up here. And, not to be outdone by her southern sister, North Dakota also has a plethora of "see this and that" type billboards. "See the world's largest buffalo. Next exit." "See the Albino Bison. Jamestown Buffalo Museum".
Was it raining when I got to Fargo? "Well, ya, sure, you betcha it was. And raining hard, don't ya know?" But I did get to see a little of the town and I liked it.
Sioux Falls, SD was today's destination, and the border between North and South Dakota was just a few more miles down the road. I knew that upon reaching the South Dakota border, my visit to the last remaining state, North Dakota, would be over. Hence, I was about to cross the official "end of the line" for my Northern Exposure. I knew that Lucille knew this, too, and I was feeling very uneasy. Some things needed to be said and I was running out of time. I pulled off the freeway into a quiet rest area, shut off the engine, and set there for a minute before I began to say what was on my mind.
"Lucille, I'm sorry about your ill conceived name. If I could take it back, I would. But, I've gotten used to it. Lived through the hard times... picked a fine time to leave me... Well, none of that happened. You carried me over 10,000 miles without a hitch. Well, yes, of course we have a hitch. We both know that. But, you know what I mean." I was fumbling a bit.
"I know that before we left, you saw me reading a brochure about an Itasca Navion with a fancy slide-out and the Mercedes Benz diesel engine and a bigger bathroom. But that was before this trip, Lucille."
"Heck", I continued, "for the last six weeks, whenever I needed hot water, you had more than enough for me. And when I wanted power for the lights, or to watch a DVD or make a latte, it was always there. Even on mornings like that one that was below freezing, you always kept it nice and cozy inside. You took every punch that Big Al threw at you without even getting a nick on your glasses. And, boy did you keep your cool going down those steep descents on the road to Whistler. You never complained once about dragging Harley and the trailer all this way. What I'm trying to say, Lucille, is that I 'preciate ya for everything you've done for me on this trip, and I'm proud of ya."
I paused for a few seconds and thought about it. Deep down I knew it wasn't enough and that she deserved more. I knew she wanted to hear those three words that girls need to hear ocassionally. So, I looked her straight in her instrument gauges and said, "What I'm trying to say is... Well," and then I muttered "Thank You, Lucille." We both knew that those weren't the three words she was looking for and the three that I was trying to utter. But sometimes it's really hard for guys to put their emotions on the line and get them out. After too long of a silence, I broke into a down home sort of dialect (which I have found works best when you're talking to your vehicles) and said, "Well, doggone it, Lucille, you're my gal. I didn't mind ya nagging at me about the seat belt. And maybe we can get you help for that heavy petroleum dependency. You're the one what brung me, Lucille, and I'm not gonna trade ya off for any new fangled Itasca Navion..."
"And dad blurn it, Lucille... I love ya."
And, with that, I reached down and turned the key to on. Lucille roared to life. SHE NEVER SOUNDED SO GOOD. Her engined revved like I had just given her a shot of 90 octane. We raced back out onto the freeway and headed for Iowa. I promised to buy her a warm bubble bath when we got back to Tennessee in a few more days. We were both as happy as kids on a Sunday morning, just after church let out.
I was hoping for a nice symbolic sunset picture as we crossed over the official end of the line. Sort of like this one from the previous day.
but it was too rainy and foggy.
As I drove for the next few miles, I remembered that there were two more thank you's that I needed to share. The first is to my wife, Cindy, for a lifetime of putting up with, and not squawking too much about, such wild hair notions as buying a motorhome, a motorcycle and a motorcycle trailer and heading out by myself to Alaska for six weeks. "Thank You, Cindy." And thanks, also, for joining up with me on this trip. I know that touring Alaska in a motorhome, even if it was just for a week, wasn't your idea of a dream vacation. Okay... Ugh... "I Love You, too".
And a final "Thank You" is extended to all of you who have shared this journey by reading my Northern Exposure journal. Trying to decide what might be of interest... hoping that pictures taken would do justice to what I was viewing... wishing that others might get a laugh or two at things that tickled me... wondering how best to put experiences to words... All of these things helped turn what could have been a long, often lonely trip into an unforgettable adventure--one where the miles and days sailed by way too fast. "Thank you", everyone reading this, for accepting the invitation and riding along.
Well, I guess what's needed to be said has been said... and it's time for us to sign off.
Summit Software, Inc. was my employer from 1982 until 2008. It was a great 26 year run, and during that time, I must have made 120 or more business trips to the offices of clients in various cities throughout America. I never found the travel to be tiresome. At some point, I realized that I had spent a week or more with clients in all but just a few states. During the last ten years with Summit, the list of unvisited states slowly shrunk. When a prospect from one of the remaining states would call, I would put on the "sell" a little harder. Often, it worked and another was crossed off the list. However, two states, Alaska and North Dakota, remained on the list for several years prior to the sale of the company. We received very few calls from prospects located in these two states during those last few years, and when we did, they were either turned off by the hard sell, or they sensed some desperation on my part. In either case, they decided to take a pass. The company was sold in 2008, but my dream of visiting all fifty states did not wane, and I started planning this trip over two years ago in an effort to meet that personal goal. About 6:00 pm on Day 33 of the trip, I reached North Dakota and the final state was checked off the list.
If I've learned anything about the states, it's that they're like the people that populate them--vastly different. Some are spectacular and stunning in their beauty, while others are simple, frumpy or even haggard. Some, quite intelligent and others challenged that way. Many are quite moody, and have personalities that change dramatically with the seasons. To that regard, I regret not having yet had the opportunity to experience the harsher sides of Alaska's and North Dakota's personalities, which I'm sure will both begin to reveal themselves within the next few months. (No, that's not a plant for a Northern Exposure sequel.) I must admit that I favor some states over others. Iowa will always be my home state. It's where my roots are; where I attended high school and college; where I was married and where all three of my children were born. I have loved skiing in Colorado, and Summit County, CO was the inspiration for the name of my company. Idaho is a state to which I could easily relocate, as is New Hampshire, and several others. We have many good friends in Arkansas. And for the time being, I'm comfortable where I'm at in eastern Tennessee. Of course, these are personal preferences, and I do appreciate each of the states for the valuable contributions it makes to our nation. I'm very happy to be able to say that I have now met all fifty of them.
Okay, back to the blog to document how it happened.
Days 31 and 32 -- Back to Bozeman
Crossing Montana, I just managed to stay ahead of spotty rainstorms.
And I located an interesting place to hide, if you're a bear
Day 33 -- Mission Accomplished
I left Bozeman, MT bright and early today and headed for Bismarck, ND. The "Big Sky" label that is hung on Montana is not a misnomer by any stretch. How would you like to have the breathing room that folks in this town have?
Just a few miles from the North Dakota border I spotted a long train of fully loaded coal cars heading East. It feels like you're viewing a painting seeing them from such a long range view. You can easily see an entire 140-car train. I was travelling at nearly 70 mph, so it didn't take too long for me to catch up with it.
I did so, just as an train of empty coal cars met us, heading west back to Montana.
Several minutes later I pulled over at the sign welcoming visitors to North Dakota. This was the picture I had been waiting to snap for so many years.
I wished that I had thought to bring along a New Year's Eve noise maker just for this celebration. But I hadn't and I seriously thought for a second or two about grabbing a couple of pans from the motorhome to clang together. As I made an about face from the welcome sign, there was the coal train that I had passed. It was only 300 yards away, and its bright light was staring me down. I snapped this picture of it as it approached.
and immediately thereafter, the BNSF engineer responded with a long pull on his train horn. I tipped my hat to him and gave him a firm salute, and he responded again, this time with four quick pulls. Scout's honor--I'm mot making this up. I wished for a noise maker to help mark this moment, and, by golly, I got one!
About an hour into North Dakota, you see badlands type topography
and the painted canyon
I also began to see fields of corn again. It had been nearly a month since I had seen any, and it made me feel close to home. Crossing back into the Central Time Zone, I lost another hour, and it was quite dark as I settled in at Bismark for the night.
Favorite road sign of the day
Imagine the football rivalry between Camel Hump and Sentinel Butte. I can just hear the chant. "Go Camel Hump. Kick Sentinal...", well you can finish it.
Day 34 -- Dance with the one what brung ya.
There's an Oak Ridge Boys song in which the lyrics proclaim, "When the sun always shines, there's a desert below. It takes a little rain to make love grow." It helps put into perspective a long, all-day soaker, like the one we're having here in North Dakota today. It was pouring down pretty good here in Bismark as I headed out for Fargo, which is forecast to receive over three inches of rain today. Ironic that this is the last official day of the trip and it's the first and only one on the entire trip that I would call rainy. I'm wondering if I should turn south and avoid Fargo altogether. But I loved the movie, and I'd like to see that stretch of road where Margie looked at the frozen air and said to the suspect she had just apprehended by the wood chipper, "And look... it's a beautiful day out there today." So, I reckon I'll press on to Fargo, don't ya know?
There must be an inordinate number of skunks in the state of North Dakota, judging from the numbers I've encountered as road kill. Either that, or I'm just used to driving in Arkansas and Tennessee, where the road kill is "cleaned up" quicker than it is up here. And, not to be outdone by her southern sister, North Dakota also has a plethora of "see this and that" type billboards. "See the world's largest buffalo. Next exit." "See the Albino Bison. Jamestown Buffalo Museum".
Was it raining when I got to Fargo? "Well, ya, sure, you betcha it was. And raining hard, don't ya know?" But I did get to see a little of the town and I liked it.
Sioux Falls, SD was today's destination, and the border between North and South Dakota was just a few more miles down the road. I knew that upon reaching the South Dakota border, my visit to the last remaining state, North Dakota, would be over. Hence, I was about to cross the official "end of the line" for my Northern Exposure. I knew that Lucille knew this, too, and I was feeling very uneasy. Some things needed to be said and I was running out of time. I pulled off the freeway into a quiet rest area, shut off the engine, and set there for a minute before I began to say what was on my mind.
"Lucille, I'm sorry about your ill conceived name. If I could take it back, I would. But, I've gotten used to it. Lived through the hard times... picked a fine time to leave me... Well, none of that happened. You carried me over 10,000 miles without a hitch. Well, yes, of course we have a hitch. We both know that. But, you know what I mean." I was fumbling a bit.
"I know that before we left, you saw me reading a brochure about an Itasca Navion with a fancy slide-out and the Mercedes Benz diesel engine and a bigger bathroom. But that was before this trip, Lucille."
"Heck", I continued, "for the last six weeks, whenever I needed hot water, you had more than enough for me. And when I wanted power for the lights, or to watch a DVD or make a latte, it was always there. Even on mornings like that one that was below freezing, you always kept it nice and cozy inside. You took every punch that Big Al threw at you without even getting a nick on your glasses. And, boy did you keep your cool going down those steep descents on the road to Whistler. You never complained once about dragging Harley and the trailer all this way. What I'm trying to say, Lucille, is that I 'preciate ya for everything you've done for me on this trip, and I'm proud of ya."
I paused for a few seconds and thought about it. Deep down I knew it wasn't enough and that she deserved more. I knew she wanted to hear those three words that girls need to hear ocassionally. So, I looked her straight in her instrument gauges and said, "What I'm trying to say is... Well," and then I muttered "Thank You, Lucille." We both knew that those weren't the three words she was looking for and the three that I was trying to utter. But sometimes it's really hard for guys to put their emotions on the line and get them out. After too long of a silence, I broke into a down home sort of dialect (which I have found works best when you're talking to your vehicles) and said, "Well, doggone it, Lucille, you're my gal. I didn't mind ya nagging at me about the seat belt. And maybe we can get you help for that heavy petroleum dependency. You're the one what brung me, Lucille, and I'm not gonna trade ya off for any new fangled Itasca Navion..."
"And dad blurn it, Lucille... I love ya."
And, with that, I reached down and turned the key to on. Lucille roared to life. SHE NEVER SOUNDED SO GOOD. Her engined revved like I had just given her a shot of 90 octane. We raced back out onto the freeway and headed for Iowa. I promised to buy her a warm bubble bath when we got back to Tennessee in a few more days. We were both as happy as kids on a Sunday morning, just after church let out.
I was hoping for a nice symbolic sunset picture as we crossed over the official end of the line. Sort of like this one from the previous day.
but it was too rainy and foggy.
As I drove for the next few miles, I remembered that there were two more thank you's that I needed to share. The first is to my wife, Cindy, for a lifetime of putting up with, and not squawking too much about, such wild hair notions as buying a motorhome, a motorcycle and a motorcycle trailer and heading out by myself to Alaska for six weeks. "Thank You, Cindy." And thanks, also, for joining up with me on this trip. I know that touring Alaska in a motorhome, even if it was just for a week, wasn't your idea of a dream vacation. Okay... Ugh... "I Love You, too".
And a final "Thank You" is extended to all of you who have shared this journey by reading my Northern Exposure journal. Trying to decide what might be of interest... hoping that pictures taken would do justice to what I was viewing... wishing that others might get a laugh or two at things that tickled me... wondering how best to put experiences to words... All of these things helped turn what could have been a long, often lonely trip into an unforgettable adventure--one where the miles and days sailed by way too fast. "Thank you", everyone reading this, for accepting the invitation and riding along.
Well, I guess what's needed to be said has been said... and it's time for us to sign off.
Northern Exposure and Lucille
-- The End --
Saturday, September 4, 2010
The Road to Whistler
I was beginning to feel like a beat reporter at blog central, anxiously awaiting something newsworthy to happen. Anything newsworthy. On day 29, it did. In spades. I'll get to it in a minute. But, to keep things in chronological order, lets flashback to days 27 and 28. They were slow news days. Slog through them. It'll be worth it.
Day 27 -- Hey, Moses. I, too, know what it's like to wander around BC
The string of 26 rainless days has come to an end. It poured for perhaps half of the day today, and it was a nippy 31 degrees as I headed out this morning. Traveling the Alaska Highway was a great adventure. I was on it for more than 2,500 miles, but here's the turn and it's time to bid it farewell.
At almost all times, the view out the windshield while on the Alaska highway was that of a mountainous, wilderness forest. Most of the time was spent driving in silence. No audio books or iPod music. The scenery, wildlife sightings, and especially the anticipation of seeing wildlife, was more than enough to make the miles whizz by. Much of the route was through British Columbia, so naturally, I thought I had seen it. However, within seconds of leaving the Alaska Highway and heading south toward Vancouver, I realized that I hadn't seen BC at all. The first revelation that hits you when you turn onto a regular BC highway is this
... telephone poles. You realize that you haven't seen them for thousands of miles. Now that they are present, it doesn't feel like an untamed wilderness forest anymore. You stop looking for moose and caribou and bears. Rather, its horses, cows and sheep that you see.
Occassionally, a few alpaca could be seen as well. The topography is quite similar to the Apalachian mountains where I live. You see farms, livestock, irrigation equipment, towns, and wide open views of prairie. Much of the time, you would think you were traveling through horse country in western Kentucky.
Another difference is that while on the Alaska Highway, you see very few deer and very few deer warning signs. Only a few miles off the Alcan, the deer warning signs are everywhere, and so are the deer.
As I pulled into Hudson's Hope, one was at their pretty visitor center eating the flowers.
It would have been a picture worthy of front page on the Hudson's Hope chamber of commerce brochure, but by the time I got the camera pointed, the deer spooked and darted across the street. I caught him in an alley. Not one for the chamber of commerce pamphlet.
Can you guess what the major industry is in this area? I'll give you a few clues.
Nice job--if you took a wild guess and said "the lumber industry". Today, my destination is Prince George. Chetwynd is the only one town of any size on the route. Upon pulling into Chetwynd, I passed a huge sawmill and got a whiff of the town's distinctive fresh sawdust smell.
Every July, carvers from all over the world sharpen up the old Husqvarna and head to Chetwynd for the annual chainsaw wood-carving championship. The town proudly displays many of the works of art sculpted during recent competitions.
I can just hear you saying to yourself, "Geesh, he really liked those chainsaw carvings." It was raining hard and unusually dark as I made it to Prince George, the fourth largest city in the province, having a population of 80,000. Didn't see Prince George. (He was probably in the can.)
Day 28 -- Unexpected Floral Beauty
On today's drive from Prince George to Cache Creek, another lumber processing town, Guesnel, turned out to be a surprise. As you drive through the town, you see signs directing you to the pulp mill, saw mill, plywood plant, etc.
Most of the towns that you pass through in Canada and Alaska have a visitor's center, but Guesnel's visitor center raised the bar to a new level.
"Who's that statue of?", you're probably asking yourself. Well, here, read the little ditty about him.
(Sorry about the angle. I couldn't get blogger to bring it in upright. Tried for quite some time. Hopefully, you can turn your screen, or your head.)
I made it to Cache Creek about 7:00 pm and stopped at a nice RV park. The hookups included cable TV and I got a chance to hear the news for the first time in three weeks or so. A local Vancouver news station reported that there had been over 2700 bear calls in the metro Vancouver area in the past few weeks.
Favorite road sign of the day
Day 29 -- Privileged
There were two times on this trip that the beauty being beheld caused a shiver to run up from the small of my back to my shoulders. The first time it happened was as I inhaled the beauty and majesty of Mt. McKinley. The second time happened today on the road to Whistler. Like the road to Hannah in Hawaii, this winding road through a canyon has hairpin turns, one lane wooden bridges, dangerously steep descents, raging brooks, waterfalls and unforgettable scenery:
I stopped at the little town of Lillooet to purchase some fuel at Lightfoot Gas.
The minute I stepped inside the store, I could smell the aroma of freshly baked bread. Just had to buy a loaf. They had some jellies and jams being sold on consignment, so I bought a jar of rhubarb jam and grape jelly also.
One taste of the bread and grape jelly, and I marched right back in and bought another loaf and a bigger jar of the jelly.
I was travelling with the windows down so I could experience the sounds and smells in addition to the sights. There was a loud chirp of an eagle or hawk. I heard them again and again. The air was so still and the chirps were so loud that they could be heard echoing off the canyon walls for a mile in each direction. I pulled over onto a turnout and saw a mom and dad bringing food to their youngsters in this nest.
There was a small path through the trees, so I took it down to the most beautiful lake I've ever seen. The water was sparkling clear. I stood there and soaked it in. There, in total silence, except for the repetitive, echoing chirps from two birds of prey, a shiver started at the small of my back and ran up to my shoulders, and I thought how privileged I was to be alive and standing there at that precise moment.
I had experienced a few 11% grade descents on the trip while in Alaska. Just a few minutes ago, a 13% descent for 2 kilometers was successfully handled by shifting down to first gear and braking to hold the speed at no more than 30 mph. It was a scary descent, and I was relieved that the brakes did not overheat.
Another group of warning signs. What's this?
Fifteen percent for three miles! You've got to be kidding. I just finished the 13% one, so I'm going to pull over here and smell the brakes. Maybe let them cool for a few minutes before tackling this one. Take a look at the GPS. This one is going to be exciting.
The road to Whistler was every bit as exhilarating as was the road to Hannah, HI. I wish Cindy could have been here with me today. Maybe someday we'll fly to Vancouver, rent a car and drive up to Cache Creek. This one would be a wonderful do-over.
Whistler looks like it has some steep, black diamond runs.
What a nice village. Full of people of all nationalities shopping and strolling.
It was a great place for people watching as I set at an outside cafe and enjoyed some pasta.
Left a Whistler shop a few American dollars, too.
Favorite road sign of the day.
turned out to be an accurate prognosticator, too
It was about 6:30 pm as I made Vancouver, so the rush hour traffic was easing. Still, it was as much of a challenge as I wanted in a motorhome pulling a trailer. I told the GPS to navigate to Spokane, WA and it took me through the US border customs crossing and then toward Seattle. I asked it to navigate to a Walmart, which is the best place to boondoggle park for a night. It came up with Bellevue Walmart Optical. That's not unusual. Walmart stores never pop up, but hits like Walmart Tire and Lube, Murphy Oil, or Walmart Optical do and they always lead you to the big Walmart parking lot. So, I followed the directions to Bellevue Walmart Optical. It was dark, and I found myself being led into the midst of a forest of sky high medical buildings and hospitals. Hopeful that there would be enough room to turn around and get the heck out of there, I realized that I had been duped. Bellevue is a large town. Bellevue Walmart Optical, however, was obviously just a small optical store located in one of the medical buildings or hospitals. It was a rude awakening--the boy's back in the real world.
Day 30 -- The Real World
Couldn't find a Wallmart, so I stayed the night at a truck stop parking lot an hour or so east of Seattle. Had a quick supper.
Woke up the next morning, took a shower, and completed the return to the real world by shaving for the first time in over a month.
Yes, my one and only time of having a beard has come to an end. It's no big deal. I hadn't had it long enough to get used to it, and it was sort of anemic in spots. Feels good to be clean shaven again. The next few days will consist of rather uneventful interstate driving, so I'll pick the blog back up when I get to North Dakota. If I see anything interesting along the way, I'll snap a few pictures. Like this monument and canyon lookout in eastern Washington
or this doozy of a dust devil that was dancing about on a plowed field
Idaho is one of my favorite states, and Coeur d' Alene, ID is one of my favorite cities in America. I'd definitely consider moving there if it wasn't so far from the rest of my family. And, of course, there would be that matter of convincing Cindy. But what a beautiful city with two colleges, extraordinarily lush grass, the lake, river and a national forest.
The adventure is coming to an end. I'm glad you've been following along.
Day 27 -- Hey, Moses. I, too, know what it's like to wander around BC
The string of 26 rainless days has come to an end. It poured for perhaps half of the day today, and it was a nippy 31 degrees as I headed out this morning. Traveling the Alaska Highway was a great adventure. I was on it for more than 2,500 miles, but here's the turn and it's time to bid it farewell.
At almost all times, the view out the windshield while on the Alaska highway was that of a mountainous, wilderness forest. Most of the time was spent driving in silence. No audio books or iPod music. The scenery, wildlife sightings, and especially the anticipation of seeing wildlife, was more than enough to make the miles whizz by. Much of the route was through British Columbia, so naturally, I thought I had seen it. However, within seconds of leaving the Alaska Highway and heading south toward Vancouver, I realized that I hadn't seen BC at all. The first revelation that hits you when you turn onto a regular BC highway is this
... telephone poles. You realize that you haven't seen them for thousands of miles. Now that they are present, it doesn't feel like an untamed wilderness forest anymore. You stop looking for moose and caribou and bears. Rather, its horses, cows and sheep that you see.
Occassionally, a few alpaca could be seen as well. The topography is quite similar to the Apalachian mountains where I live. You see farms, livestock, irrigation equipment, towns, and wide open views of prairie. Much of the time, you would think you were traveling through horse country in western Kentucky.
Another difference is that while on the Alaska Highway, you see very few deer and very few deer warning signs. Only a few miles off the Alcan, the deer warning signs are everywhere, and so are the deer.
As I pulled into Hudson's Hope, one was at their pretty visitor center eating the flowers.
It would have been a picture worthy of front page on the Hudson's Hope chamber of commerce brochure, but by the time I got the camera pointed, the deer spooked and darted across the street. I caught him in an alley. Not one for the chamber of commerce pamphlet.
Can you guess what the major industry is in this area? I'll give you a few clues.
Nice job--if you took a wild guess and said "the lumber industry". Today, my destination is Prince George. Chetwynd is the only one town of any size on the route. Upon pulling into Chetwynd, I passed a huge sawmill and got a whiff of the town's distinctive fresh sawdust smell.
Every July, carvers from all over the world sharpen up the old Husqvarna and head to Chetwynd for the annual chainsaw wood-carving championship. The town proudly displays many of the works of art sculpted during recent competitions.
Day 28 -- Unexpected Floral Beauty
On today's drive from Prince George to Cache Creek, another lumber processing town, Guesnel, turned out to be a surprise. As you drive through the town, you see signs directing you to the pulp mill, saw mill, plywood plant, etc.
Most of the towns that you pass through in Canada and Alaska have a visitor's center, but Guesnel's visitor center raised the bar to a new level.
"Who's that statue of?", you're probably asking yourself. Well, here, read the little ditty about him.
(Sorry about the angle. I couldn't get blogger to bring it in upright. Tried for quite some time. Hopefully, you can turn your screen, or your head.)
I made it to Cache Creek about 7:00 pm and stopped at a nice RV park. The hookups included cable TV and I got a chance to hear the news for the first time in three weeks or so. A local Vancouver news station reported that there had been over 2700 bear calls in the metro Vancouver area in the past few weeks.
Favorite road sign of the day
Day 29 -- Privileged
There were two times on this trip that the beauty being beheld caused a shiver to run up from the small of my back to my shoulders. The first time it happened was as I inhaled the beauty and majesty of Mt. McKinley. The second time happened today on the road to Whistler. Like the road to Hannah in Hawaii, this winding road through a canyon has hairpin turns, one lane wooden bridges, dangerously steep descents, raging brooks, waterfalls and unforgettable scenery:
I stopped at the little town of Lillooet to purchase some fuel at Lightfoot Gas.
The minute I stepped inside the store, I could smell the aroma of freshly baked bread. Just had to buy a loaf. They had some jellies and jams being sold on consignment, so I bought a jar of rhubarb jam and grape jelly also.
One taste of the bread and grape jelly, and I marched right back in and bought another loaf and a bigger jar of the jelly.
I was travelling with the windows down so I could experience the sounds and smells in addition to the sights. There was a loud chirp of an eagle or hawk. I heard them again and again. The air was so still and the chirps were so loud that they could be heard echoing off the canyon walls for a mile in each direction. I pulled over onto a turnout and saw a mom and dad bringing food to their youngsters in this nest.
There was a small path through the trees, so I took it down to the most beautiful lake I've ever seen. The water was sparkling clear. I stood there and soaked it in. There, in total silence, except for the repetitive, echoing chirps from two birds of prey, a shiver started at the small of my back and ran up to my shoulders, and I thought how privileged I was to be alive and standing there at that precise moment.
I had experienced a few 11% grade descents on the trip while in Alaska. Just a few minutes ago, a 13% descent for 2 kilometers was successfully handled by shifting down to first gear and braking to hold the speed at no more than 30 mph. It was a scary descent, and I was relieved that the brakes did not overheat.
Fifteen percent for three miles! You've got to be kidding. I just finished the 13% one, so I'm going to pull over here and smell the brakes. Maybe let them cool for a few minutes before tackling this one. Take a look at the GPS. This one is going to be exciting.
The road to Whistler was every bit as exhilarating as was the road to Hannah, HI. I wish Cindy could have been here with me today. Maybe someday we'll fly to Vancouver, rent a car and drive up to Cache Creek. This one would be a wonderful do-over.
Whistler looks like it has some steep, black diamond runs.
What a nice village. Full of people of all nationalities shopping and strolling.
It was a great place for people watching as I set at an outside cafe and enjoyed some pasta.
Left a Whistler shop a few American dollars, too.
Favorite road sign of the day.
turned out to be an accurate prognosticator, too
It was about 6:30 pm as I made Vancouver, so the rush hour traffic was easing. Still, it was as much of a challenge as I wanted in a motorhome pulling a trailer. I told the GPS to navigate to Spokane, WA and it took me through the US border customs crossing and then toward Seattle. I asked it to navigate to a Walmart, which is the best place to boondoggle park for a night. It came up with Bellevue Walmart Optical. That's not unusual. Walmart stores never pop up, but hits like Walmart Tire and Lube, Murphy Oil, or Walmart Optical do and they always lead you to the big Walmart parking lot. So, I followed the directions to Bellevue Walmart Optical. It was dark, and I found myself being led into the midst of a forest of sky high medical buildings and hospitals. Hopeful that there would be enough room to turn around and get the heck out of there, I realized that I had been duped. Bellevue is a large town. Bellevue Walmart Optical, however, was obviously just a small optical store located in one of the medical buildings or hospitals. It was a rude awakening--the boy's back in the real world.
Day 30 -- The Real World
Couldn't find a Wallmart, so I stayed the night at a truck stop parking lot an hour or so east of Seattle. Had a quick supper.
Woke up the next morning, took a shower, and completed the return to the real world by shaving for the first time in over a month.
Yes, my one and only time of having a beard has come to an end. It's no big deal. I hadn't had it long enough to get used to it, and it was sort of anemic in spots. Feels good to be clean shaven again. The next few days will consist of rather uneventful interstate driving, so I'll pick the blog back up when I get to North Dakota. If I see anything interesting along the way, I'll snap a few pictures. Like this monument and canyon lookout in eastern Washington
or this doozy of a dust devil that was dancing about on a plowed field
Idaho is one of my favorite states, and Coeur d' Alene, ID is one of my favorite cities in America. I'd definitely consider moving there if it wasn't so far from the rest of my family. And, of course, there would be that matter of convincing Cindy. But what a beautiful city with two colleges, extraordinarily lush grass, the lake, river and a national forest.
The adventure is coming to an end. I'm glad you've been following along.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
