august 2 2008 : fairbanks, alaska, usa
Deadhorse is the end of the line on the Dalton. The guidebook called it anticlimactic and they couldn’t have been more spot on. The scenery gradually went from rolling green hills full of caribou to a flat expanse of nothingness. The road itself completely deteriorated as well. For three hundred miles the road was in excellent shape, and then suddenly fifty miles from the end it was destroyed.

We eventually crawled into Deadhorse where we found nothing but big machine shed style buildings, monstrous oil drilling related equipment, and mud. The streets were a quagmire. We had a quick cafeteria lunner, got gas, and turned around. Nothing to see or do there. In fact they shut the road to tourists eight miles from the Arctic Ocean, apparently in the name of safety. So close and yet we didn’t get so much as a sniff of that ice cold water. To do that you need to be part of a tour group and pay Big Oil for the honor.

On the road back we saw a lot more muskoxen and caribou. We noticed that the largest caribou don’t seem to hang out with the herd, but are almost always out wandering around alone. They are fun to watch with their racks launching out of their heads four feet into the air.

We camped for the night in a beautiful spot surrounded by five thousand foot slabs of rock shooting straight out of the ground all around us. In the morning we found that even the clouds had grown tired. They had come and laid down right on top of the trees where they then opened up the taps on us from just twenty feet over our heads. All day long we drove through the mud with water pouring into the bus through every orifice.

Along the Dalton the road construction is a little different than anywhere else. Here, just one guy is usually at work on a particular section. There are usually no signs, no flaggers, and no warning that you are coming up on it. Today we came up a hill and found a huge mound of dirt running down the middle of the right lane up and over the top of the hill. Not wanting to take the left lane because we couldn’t see what was coming we instead tucked into the remainder of the right lane and drove on. On the other side of the hill we found that our lane was completely squeezed off. Now our options were to back all the way out or to try and blast over the mound of dirt. Ali was sure we’d flip over but I chose the dirt anyway. These buses can handle anything a big Chevy 4×4 can. Right?

After a quick stop in Fairbanks to wash the bus we decided to continue fifty miles further down the road to Nenana where we had stayed a few nights back. We were both really excited about it and looking forward to getting out of the rain and into a hot shower. We couldn’t stop talking about it in fact. So we shouldn’t have been surprised when we got to the bridge over the river at the edge of town and saw that it had overflowed its banks and the entire town was underwater. The worst flooding since 1967 we would soon learn. We also learned that the road further south was closed. Sweet, back to Fairbanks, a one hundred mile round trip waste of time.

At the moment we are in a campground in town that just the day before was also partially submerged by the river running alongside of it. The rain is still coming down hard and we’re starting to wonder if maybe coming to Alaska wasn’t such a great idea. The ten day forecast for the entire state only shows a possibility of two days without rain and overcast skies. Ali has just about gone over the deep end. Being a neat freak and living out of a bus that has spent three weeks in perpetual rain has not been good to her.

august 5 2008 : denali highway, alaska
We spent a couple of days in Fairbanks. We had to really; we had no clothes. It’d been three or four weeks since our last laundry day and it was time to get a few chores done around the house. My project was the clutch. Actually just the stick shift itself, which had become bone dry and made horrendous squeaking noises whenever I shifted gears. Ali said, “You have to fix that, I don’t like it.” I didn’t mention that I didn’t like the fact that I’d been wearing the same jeans for nine days in a row, sometimes with underwear, sometimes without, and I didn’t like that either. A healthy dose of grease on everything, including me, solved that mini dilemma, while Ali solved the problem of the stinky pants.

But aside from chores we were waiting on the weather. That ten day forecast had shown two rapidly approaching days of glorious sunshine. We were determined to drive the Denali Highway, after having passed the turn off in the rain twice already, so timing our drive for this two days became imperative.

Today we left, aiming for the start of the road at Paxson. All that is there, literally, is a roadhouse. A large worn out building with some rooms, a restaurant, and a bar. We stopped in to grab a beer and wait out what we hoped was the last of the rain. Sitting at the bar was an extremely chatty bunch who seemed determined to talk us out of driving the Denali. “Oh, why do you want to go there? It’s hours of rough gravel and not even very pretty.” We explained that we didn’t mind the rough roads, that in fact we preferred them since that meant there would be no other cars. They all seemed a little disgusted with our decision though. Then just as we were about to leave a new bartender arrived and asked where we were headed. We told her and she said, “Oh you’ll love it. What a beautiful drive.” This is why we don’t listen to anybody.

august 7 2008 : outside denali, alaska
We didn’t go far that first night on the Denali Highway, instead finding a beautiful spot to camp just ten miles outside of Paxson. Surrounded by mountains and lakes we were in our own little world. If it had been warm enough to sit outside for more than a minute it would have been perfect.

In the morning we continued down the highway. I’m not sure why it is still called a highway; at one point it had been the only road to Denali and Mount McKinley, but over the years the Parks Highway was built and this just became a 140 miles of scenic potholed dirt road. The great thing about it is that now nobody uses it. Ali and I drove along all day at 25 mph, stopping anywhere we wanted, and enjoying the fact that we weren’t bothering another soul with our plodding ways.

Along the way we came across Crazy Dog Kennels. We pulled in hoping to be able to have a look at the dogs. The office said they were closed, but a guy came walking out from the yard and welcomed us. He said they usually do tours, running a van load of tourists around on a sled on wheels. They didn’t have anything scheduled today so he was just hanging out, working on the four wheeler and working out with the dogs. He brought us over to the dogs and told us all about them, how they raise them, how they train them, and how they race them. Turned out that this guy was a big time racer himself, usually running the Yukon Quest race, while his wife is an Iditarod racer. It might not seem like much to those of us in the other 49 states, but this is big time sport in Alaska and this guy would be the equivalent of a Major League Baseball player welcoming a stranger into his house and showing off his collection of baseball bats. He was a really down to earth guy and it was fun to chat with him and play with the puppies a bit.

Just a little further down the road we spotted a moose in the brush. All we could see was her big head staring down the hill at us. We shut off the bus and after she felt comfortable she ambled on down the hill and across the road with her baby scrambling after her.

After another night camped out, this time with a valley stretching out below us and snow covered mountains in the distance, we drove out to complete the second half of the road. Somehow the day before we’d only covered about eighty miles. The sun had actually peeked out a bit and slowed us down considerably since we had to stop and get out to enjoy the rays every time it did.

We’d both been beginning to wonder if we’d ever see a bull moose. We’d seen plenty of mommas and babies, but had yet to see that big rack. Then as we drove along a narrow stretch of road with trees closing in on each side Ali yelled, “There. Right there!” Looking up ahead there was nothing but a gigantic head poking out of the trees eyeing us closely. He didn’t waste any time turning around and wandering back into the brush, but I wanted a closer look. I jumped out and tried stalking him. I was able to see him, but I don’t think it could really be called stalking since every time I’d peak my head up over a bush he’d be standing thirty yards away staring directly at me. Ali followed behind me and it was clear that he knew where we were at all times. We kept it up though, I’d move forward he’d mosey a little further away. These guys can weigh upwards of 2000 pounds and can get angry and charge, but he wasn’t cornered and I can’t imagine he was feeling very threatened.

Eventually we left the poor moose alone, and after finishing the Denali Highway, headed up the road to the Denali National Park. By now our forecasted nice weather was crap again. Rain was coming down and dark clouds covered everything. In the park you can only drive fifteen miles up the road. If all you want to do is see Mount McKinley I guess that is far enough, though once again we were unable to see anything. If you want to go further into the park you have to take a bus. We opted out on that due to the weather and the fact that there really isn’t a major animal left in Alaska that we haven’t already seen in the wild. In the past few weeks we’ve spotted black and brown bears, moose, caribou, fox, bald eagles, white headed owls (mind you, that is not their official name), bunny rabbits, field mice, ground squirrels, crows, black birds, brown birds, yellow birds, etc.. Who needs a tour bus idling through Denali?

august 8 2008 : parks highway, alaska
Woke up to rain, changed the oil in the rain, drove down the Parks Highway in the rain, and then finally appearing out of nowhere, the sun. From the viewpoints along the highway Denali (Mt. McKinley) remained unseen however. We have no plans to backtrack up here a third time so it looks like our visit to Alaska will be without a sighting of America’s tallest mountain.

august 11 2008 : knik river, alaska
The past couple of days we’ve continued to deal with the rain. It’s becoming harder and harder to look at the bright side of things. We drove up Hatcher Pass, which again, looked like it would be a magnificent drive if we could see anything, but the clouds and rain had us pretty much socked in. At the top of the pass it even began to snow on us. Termination dust is what the Alaskans call it; snow marking the termination of summer.

The sun did make a showing yesterday however, and we spent as much time enjoying it as we could. We found another river bed to camp along and spent the afternoon there watching dozens of airplanes fly over the glacier and then drop down low in the gorge skimming the river by a hundred feet or so and giving us a tip of the wings.

august 13 2008 : hope, alaska
We just spent two days near Anchorage being pampered by some new Bum friends of ours. We ate Alaskan style, devouring some excellent king salmon tacos, as well as moose spaghetti. I highly doubt we’ll encounter either of those dishes anywhere else in our travels.

Last night, despite the rain, our friends arranged for a flight to take us up and over the Knik Glacier. The weather didn’t cooperate, but seeing the glacier from 2000 feet was still pretty cool. Pools of startlingly blue water somehow gathered in the jagged white ice and icebergs calved off the end of the glacier into the silty brown lake at its edge. When we returned to the house we found that their three daughters had spent the evening baking us bread and gingerbread moose and bear cookies. What could be better?

This morning we met up with another couple of Bums who’d been following us around for a few years and are now out tooling around North America themselves. Good company and a free breakfast, sometimes this website of ours really pays dividends.

We drove out of Anchorage and headed back down the Kenai Peninsula today. We’re doing a lot of backtracking these days and this was our second time headed down the Seward Highway in a southerly direction. For the second time we drove along it in the rain. This is my least favorite road in Alaska because for some reason it seems to be both the busiest and the fastest. We got off as soon as we could, driving up the road towards Hope where we found a dirt road leading ten miles up into the mountains where we’ve stopped to call it a day.

august 15 2008 : captain cook state park, alaska
Walking hand in hand along the rocky beach, a light drizzle dampening our sweatshirts, a fifty-five degree breeze blowing across our cheeks, seals surfacing just offshore, and two grizzly cubs strolling along fifty feet in front of us; now that’s summer in Alaska.

We pulled into Captain Cook State Park this afternoon and saw the sign warning that there were a couple of brown bear cubs in the area but didn’t give it much thought at the time. We’d seen a black bear earlier in the morning just down the road from the previous night’s campground and thought we’d had our bear sighting for the day. Then there they were, two adorable young grizzlies walking along the rocky beach just up ahead of us. We quickly climbed the bluff to get above them where we’d have a great view as they ambled on.

Thirty feet above we scrambled to catch up and suddenly came face to face with the cubs as they attempted to climb the steep slope. They gave us the evil eye and then turned back down to the beach. From up above we were able to watch them without bothering them too much. Their short legs had trouble lifting their rolly-polly bodies over the larger pieces of driftwood, and it was like watching a young baby who’d just recently learned to walk. It was incredible to get to see them like this and we kept looking over our shoulder to see if mom was somewhere nearby. The warning sign at the entrance to the park hadn’t made any mention of a mama bear, but these cubs seemed way too young to be on their own already.

Mom never showed up, and when a handful of hikers came towards the cub from the other direction they finally decided it was time to make another run at the bluff. The bluff was nearly straight up, but they made it up just fifty feet away from us. There were some clearly defined paths through the weeds and soon they were peeking out of the bushes and staring down the path at us. They decided we weren’t a threat and slowly walked across the path and disappeared into the tall grass. We watched the bushes and grass swish about for a minute or two and then they were gone. That experience made our week. The Alaskan weather has been slowly draining the life out of us, but that is all forgotten when you get to be up close in the wild with animals like these.

august 16 2008 : ninilchik, alaska
Ninilchik is holding its State Fair (it seems that all fairs in Alaska are State fairs) this weekend and we weren’t about to miss the festivities. We checked into a campground, grabbed our umbrellas, debated whether or not to don a third layer of clothing, and hiked a couple of miles down the road to the grand entrance of the fair.

This was small town fair at its finest. We walked the pig tent where a young 4H girl was asking everybody if they had any questions or concerns. I thought it was nice that she was willing to address our concerns. I was concerned for the pig named Tarzan who had a first place ribbon hanging above him next to a sign that said he had been purchased by the Arby’s Restaurant.

There was also a whole tent devoted to giant turkeys and rabbits. Neither of us had any idea so many different types of rabbits existed. They’ll make great slippers when the fair is over.

After all that pork we were hungry and headed for the concession stands. Ali got a corn dog because no fair is complete without one and I bought a reindeer sausage. There was a wide selection of strange meat sausages for sale and the proprietor took them seriously. When he asked Ali what she needed she said, “I’m good.” To which he replied, eyeing her corn dog, “I don’t know about that.”

At the beer garden we were able to watch the band as they rocked out some 80’s hair metal by Poison, Ozzy, and Guns ‘n’ Roses. It was also a great place to take in the whole fair scene. We watched at least two women who we were convinced were pregnant smoke like chimneys. Another drank a beer as she scratched her belly idly. Being PC or following government warnings seemed to have no place here. The most popular tent in the place was selling pop guns to the kids. A hundred kids ran around the fairgrounds shooting each other with uzis and assault rifles. And the flag flying above the tent was of course the Confederate.

While Ali kept a watchful eye on our beer I walked over to grab a little beer food and watched as the two teenage girls working the pizza stand got hit on by a couple of local boys.

“Starvin Marvin’s Pizza, I thought yous’ guys were down in Homer.”
“Well we are. Best pizza in Homer too, but we come on up here for the fair every year.”
“Really? I would have remembered a girl like you. I like your eyeliner.”
Blushing. “Thanks.”
“Who’s your friend, she don’t talk much?”
“Oh, that’s Sarah. Say hi Sarah.”

I had to admire these small town hucksters. They certainly had more guts around girls than I did at their age. I especially thought the eyeliner line was a nice touch. I walked away rooting for the young boys, though I imagine their odds were pretty slim with these two older girls from big city Homer fifty miles down the road. Hell, Homer even has a Safeway, what could these Ninilchik boys offer these girls?

We got a chuckle when a young girl came running up to the railing at the beer tent with a Sponge Bob Square Pants ice cream bar in her hand.
“Grandpa, grandma has been looking for you.”
“Well you go tell her that she knows me well enough that she ought to have been able to find me then.”

The thing is, it might sound like I’m poking fun at the fair, but really we both loved it. It was wholesome (sort of) fun for the whole family. Everywhere we looked all we saw were smiles and laughs. Everybody seemed to know everyone else. Food and beer were amazingly inexpensive. Beer was cheaper here than at a bar in town. Young kids ran around freely without their parents worrying about there whereabouts. All in all it was the best fair we’ve been to in as long as I can remember.

Walking back afterwards we had a chocolate lab come bounding up to us. She was friendly and playful and immediately attached herself to us. At first we played with her, but after a mile or so we became a little worried and tried ignoring her in the hope that she’d run back home. She never did though, following us all the way back to the bus. Now we were worried. She had a collar on, but no tags. We asked the campground manager if he knew who she belonged. He told us no but that he’d seen her earlier in the day running around out on the road. He made a couple of calls to some locals but nobody knew anything. He then made up some signs and said he’d go post them at the fair and the gas station. If someone was looking for her they’d check there he said.

Well it was getting late and we weren’t sure what we were going to do with her. Obviously she couldn’t spend the night with us, though maybe we could tie her up outside until morning. We put her on a leash and decided to go walk around and ask at a few houses. If she hadn’t run too far away then somebody had to recognize her. About a half mile down the road we saw some people standing outside their house. We walked up and asked if the dog looked familiar to anyone. Sure enough a young boy stepped forward and said, “Yep, that’s Gavin’s dog, he lives back there in the woods. There’s a path behind that building, just follow that back there.”

We walked the dog back there hoping that she’d sense she was almost home and get a little extra spring in her step, but she didn’t really show any emotion. At the house a woman came out and walked right up as Ali asked, “Is this your dog?”

“Yeah, that’s Snickers. She sho’ does like to run.” And with that she turned and walked back into the house with Snickers in tow. I don’t know what we were expecting, a tearful reunion, or maybe a thank-you, but we got nothing.

august 17 2008 : homer, alaska (153 nights in the bus : 24,904 miles)
The greatest thing happened today. In Homer we were driving along on the Spit. The Spit is a four mile long narrow stretch of land extending out into the bay. The end of the Spit is a cluster of tour companies and tourist shops with literally hundreds of cars parked all over the place and people walking everywhere. We were driving along through this when I noticed a car behind us that was obviously pissed that we weren’t driving faster, maybe knocking over a couple of pedestrians. She was about a foot off of our bumper so I did the only thing I could to piss her off further, I slowed down more. A line of cars coming the other direction were keeping her from passing. Now she was angry out of her mind, I could see it through my mirror. Utterly apocalyptic.

As the last car approached we noticed it was an undercover cop, wearing his uniform, but driving the standard unmarked Chevy. This was rather unfortunate for the insane tailgater behind us. Almost before he was past us she gunned it and blew past. Thirty seconds later we were pretty much right behind her because she had immediately gotten stuck behind a semi. All her road rage had gotten her nowhere. Then we heard the sirens. The sweet sound of justice. He flew right past us and pulled her over. Five minutes later we were camped on the beach when we saw her drive past reading the ticket pressed up against her steering wheel. I know I shouldn’t be so happy, that it doesn’t make me a good person, but that was probably the greatest moment I’ve ever had on the road.

All anybody can talk about these days is the weather. Alaskans have taken to calling this “the summer that never was.” My mom emailed and told us it was a hundred degrees in Portland. We were both wearing sweatshirts and jackets while we read that. Worse still, we were shivering. It was fifty-one degrees on the beach today.

august 19 2008 : homer, alaska
I don’t know how we manage it, but yet another company we’ve dealt with has gone under. First there was the boat and Charter Cats. The owners were criminals, the government closed them down, and they ran off with three million dollars in client’s money. Next, our VW shop closed down two months after we got our bus. That closing was followed closely by emails to us from customers who had paid for buses but gotten nothing. They were wondering if we might know how to find the crooked owners of the shop.

And now, after months of being lied to, we find out that the folks over at the Great Race, the same people we got to know and like so well during last year’s race, have filed for Chapter 11. All the good people who had paid for a race this year instead received letters from lawyers the other day. Our deposit is gone, as well as the $14,000 entry fee (funny money) that we “won” last year. Turns out the promoters were still taking racer’s money right up until the last day despite the fact that they couldn’t pay their employees or their vendors. It was all very similar to a Ponzi scheme. They were broke, and the likelihood that there was ever going to be a race appears to have been nil. At this point I wonder if China ever actually did pull their permits or if that was simply an excuse. Oh, it might all be saved by a miracle investor who wants to buy the company and all of its debt, but the chances of that are even less than zero. Ali and I are truly on a roll. If we ever book flights anywhere we’ll be sure and let you know what airline it is so you can short the stock.

august 21 2008 : kasilof, alaska
We spent the past couple of days hanging around Homer waiting for today’s bear tour. There really isn’t a lot to do in Homer, especially when it is raining. The Pratt Museum is a nice distraction with an eclectic choice of subject matter. Fishing, oil spills, the earth’s crust, native photography, bears, and shipwrecks were all on display.

We hung out at Macca’s with the teenagers in town. Homer may be the one place in America where being a sixteen-year-old working at Macca’s does not get you laughed at, but instead has a certain cool factor. We also drove to the end of the road, East End Road, which runs high up above Kachemak Bay as it juts inland. There we found a family trying to earn a buck enticing campers out to their field for camping overlooking the bay. The rough driveway with the No Trespassing signs every ten feet, and the foaming at the mouth dog on the chain seemed to be a deterrent to business and we had the entire field to ourselves with an awesome view of three glaciers winding their way between an endless procession of waterside mountains.

Today was finally bear day. When we arrived in the morning we found the other seven tourists already there with their rain gear on listening eagerly to the stories being told by the bear lady. She got a little huffy with us when we told her we didn’t have rubber rain suits. Apparently everybody else had bought theirs at REI before leaving on holiday. She dug us out a set and then launched into her spiel. About midway through she suddenly stopped mid-sentence, looked at me, and said, “I know who you look like. You look just like…” She must have been a fan of his movies because her mood seemed to lighten towards us after that.

We then loaded into the floatplane for the 90 minute flight to Katmai National Preserve. Despite having never been anywhere near a floatplane before I’ve sort of had this long running retirement goal that includes kitting out a floatplane sort of like we have the bus and flying off on a particular adventure in it. Now I’ve seen that this is definitely doable. The plane was awesome, a deHavilland Otter, which seats ten in an area about the size of four VW bus interiors. This is how I judge these things now. Anyway, the plane was sweet, the take off was smooth, the flight felt as sturdy as it would in a much larger plane, and the landing was so soft we couldn’t feel it. Yep, now we’ve got something to do when we get old.

The land below us was beautiful as we approached, filled with glacial lakes, and streams that we could see from the air were overflowing with bright red salmon. Then we started spotting the bears, which from the air appeared to be everywhere.

On the ground we spent the next six hours wandering along the tundra spotting bear after bear. All of them brown (grizzly) bears. We sat along the streams and watched as they gorged on salmon. The salmon run has been going on for a month now and the bears had all put on a lot of their winter weight, their coats were blonde and shiny, and you could just tell by watching them that they were all content. These are happy times for a bear.

Bears lounged in the water, standing neck deep, scooping up nearly dead salmon from the bottom, taking one jaw crunching bite out of them and tossing them aside. Thousands upon thousands of dead salmon littered the stream’s edges. The bears took very little notice in us as we approached and then sat quietly twenty yards away. We watched a mama bear feeding her spring cubs, little guys who amused themselves with sticks and who would fall over when they tried to stand up on their hind legs to see what mom was looking at as a curious male approached. On the National Geographic Channel this is when you’d see a big bear fight, but at this time of year nobody was fighting. There was plenty of food for everyone and they weren’t breeding.

Our closest encounter came when we were watching a mama play with her two one-year-old cubs. These guys were getting big and she was teaching them how to fight. Gently of course. For nearly forty-five minutes they wrestled, nipping at each other’s ears and taking turns being the submissive bear, letting the other ones push them over and stand on top of them. It amazed us how long the mom was willing to play this game with her kids. As the game progressed they gradually moved closer to us until they were only about thirty feet away, rolling around in the soft tundra grasses.

Overall it was a pretty great experience. We got to fly into an area with no other tourists, just wild country filled with happy bears. But at the end of the day it just reiterated to Ali and I that we aren’t made for tour groups. We would have been much happier to get to sneak away from the group and find bears on our own. We about went crazy walking around at a pace suitable for a ninety-year-old grandmother. But those are just quibbles, the truth is there was no other way we were going to get out there and have those interaction with brown bears. Of course, if we had our own floatplane that could all change.

august 24 2008 : palmer, alaska
After the bears we immediately turned back north up the peninsula. In Palmer we met up with some Bum friends where we’ve spent the past couple of days drinking beer and eating pizza. It’s been fun here in Alaska meeting so many new friends, people with backgrounds that vary as much as the terrain up here. One thing it seems just about everybody has in common though is the ability to build their own home. It’s sort of what makes you a true Alaskan. They move here, buy some land, and proceed to build a house from the ground up, despite what appears to be a distinct lack of prior building experience. The thing is, the houses all seem to turn out beautifully, not the falling down mess of two-by-fours you might expect. And from what I can gather, the greatest part is that outside of Anchorage you don’t need permits for any of it. This is truly a place where a man can just be a man.

We did attend the State Fair yesterday. The official State Fair, not a county fair with a fancy name. It was pouring rain of course which put a bit of a damper on the festivities for us, though nobody else seems to even notice it. The fair was pretty typical, and we found that we actually enjoyed the little Ninilchik fair more, but this one did have its high points. Our favorite was watching the goat show. It was exactly like a dog show, with owners spreading the goats legs trying to get them to stand up straight, running around the ring so the judge could have a good look at their gait, and the judge running his hands across their backs. We have no idea what they were looking for, but found it highly amusing that they were all doing these things with a straight face. Neither of us picked the winner, we just don’t know a good goat when we see one.

august 26 2008 : whitehorse, yukon, canada
What is the deal with the Canadian Customs people? Seriously, these are the least friendly customs agents we’ve met anywhere. Ali and I must look like total degenerates or something. Today I decided to try something new and when she asked what we did for a living I told her we were retired. Seemed easy enough, I mean how is she going to check on that? Well she still wanted to know what we used to do, who we worked for, etc. etc.. Then flipping through our passports she said, “Why are your passports so big?” I didn’t know what that even meant so I asked, “Do you mean why are there so many pages or why are there so many stamps?” Her answer was, “Both. Why do you travel so much?”

I said, “Because there is more to the world than a remote border post on the Alaskan border 500 miles from civilization.” No, not really, I just shrugged my shoulders. Meanwhile Ali was digging around in the back of the bus looking for our registration.

“How much money do you have on you?” she asked.
“A couple hundred dollars I suppose.”
They warn you with big signs that if you have 10k on you that you have to declare it or risk having it confiscated. But apparently they aren’t happy with $200 either. Somewhere in the middle is the right amount. “Do you have a VISA or something to pay for gas?”
Seriously? I felt like telling her that I was actually a temporary citizen and that I was on my way to pick up my welfare check so that I could pay for my gas. As a temporary Canadian I felt that was my right. But instead I said, “Yep, you do have ATMs here right?”

On and on, and round and round we went, until finally she blurted out, “Here.” She handed over our passports and registration and that was it. No “Welcome to Canada,” no “Enjoy your trip.” Nothing but a snotty look of hatred. I don’t know what it is we do to piss off these fresh out of college border grunts but we seem to do a hell of a job of it.

I can’t even remember the last time it wasn’t raining. It has been non-stop for days and days now. Out of all of the traveling we’ve done over the years this past few weeks ranks right at the very bottom. We have never experienced weather this horrible anywhere. Right now we are just determined to drive south as quickly as we possibly can. In the past two days we’ve traveled about 700 miles, and yet the rain has not let up for even one minute.

Our plans for this trip have changed yet again. After much searching we eventually determined that shipping the bus to Russia was going to take a minimum of six weeks, putting us well into winter there. Obviously that wasn’t going to work, so now we are going to try and follow the sun. We’re hoping to drive south to Panama, and from there ship the bus to South Africa. If it all works out we should be in Africa in time for the dry (driving) season.

One of the problems we’re having though is with the shipping companies. We’ve contacted dozens of them and found them all to be about the least helpful people on earth. If we call and actually talk to somebody they tell us they don’t ship there and no, they don’t know anybody who does. If we go through their website and email for a quote like it tells us to, we never hear back at all. The process is a pain in the butt and makes us pine for the days of sailing, when we could leave whenever we wanted and arrive somewhere new totally unannounced. Anyway, if anybody out there has any contacts that might be able to help us out we would greatly appreciate it. We’re looking to ship from Panama to South Africa sometime in January or February.

august 27 2008 : alaskan highway, b.c.
When we woke this morning the temperature was 42 degrees inside the bus. Condensation was dripping off of everything and despite the fact that it was still above freezing I am sure there were icicles in my soul patch. But, gloriously, the sun was shining in the back window. Actual sun, not just a lighter shade of gray cloud. We didn’t waste time with coffee, the sun was out and we wanted to drive. Maybe we’d even see a mountain in the distance. We were sure they were there.

The road was slow going, filled with construction, but surprisingly also filled with animals. The fog was thick in the valleys, and as we came around one corner we were confronted by dozens of bison lounging just feet away. They looked awesome in the cold, with steam spewing out of their nostrils and radiating off of their warm bodies. Water dripped off of their beards as they stared at us trying to determine if we were a threat or not. That happened three more times down the road.

Next up we came across a couple of young caribou on the side of the road licking the gravel. They were obviously in search of salt and didn’t mind us too much. Right across the road a big horn sheep was climbing up the hill with one eye on us.

A few miles later we came over a hill and just about ran over another big horn sheep. This one looked like a full grown male with big wrap around horns and a stately gait. He tolerated us while he walked down the middle of the road but eventually wandered off to the side and climbed vertically up a rock face to a point where he could look down on us.

To round things out later on we spotted one more moose, a couple of deer, and then a black bear. The amount of wildlife and of nothing else up here is pretty amazing.

august 29 2008 : highway 99S, b.c.
We are in a mad rush to salvage something of summer. It is now August 29th and we have each worn a sweatshirt every day since July 4th. There is something wrong with that. Ali and I may have grown up in Minnesota but we are no longer cut out for this kind of weather, and after tomorrow I think you will be hard pressed to ever get us north of the Canadian border again.

Surprise, it rained all day again today. We can’t wait to talk about something besides the crappy weather.

Yesterday we may have reached a new low. We’d been on the road, boondocking for a few days and were due for a rest and a couple of hot showers. That meant RV park. The thing with RV parks these days is that they have discovered pay showers. No longer does your fifteen to twenty dollar parking space necessarily include a shower. Two showers at night and two in the morning can quickly add up to an extra ten dollars. We’ve been boycotting those places. So last night we spotted a sign for a Trailer Park & RV Park. That sounded promising. We pulled in, confirmed the showers were free, and parked amidst a dozen single wide trailers with dogs chained up out front of them and two or three RVs that were clearly more permanent than transient.

The new low for us came after our showers though. It had stopped raining for the moment so we took advantage of that and strung up a line to hang our towels out to dry. A few minutes later the owner of the park walked out of her trailer, over to us and, pointing at our towels said, “I’m sorry, we don’t allow that here. It makes it look cluttered and tacky.” The rusty broken playground equipment and the satellite dish covered trailers don’t, but two towels hanging on a laundry line apparently do. At the risk of sounding incredibly offensive, we have now become too trailer trash for the trailer trash.