Settling in

Cook Inlet, North Pacific Ocean

The picture shown above is of Cook Inlet in the North Pacific Ocean that Anchorage sits on.  The tide ebbs and flows revealing mud flats that stretch for miles.  The foreground in the picture shows the mud flats while the darker area in the middle is the sea water.  The mountains in the background were illuminated by the setting sun giving them the pinkish hue on the snow capped mountains across the inlet.  The sun at this time of the year barely climbs high in the sky during the day in South Central Alaska.

Autumn Mushrooms in Kincaid Park

It's been unseasonably warm and lacking of snow in Anchorage this year.  I certainly don't mind as it made for a safe trip and the chance to explore a little before the brunt of winter settled in. Finding a nice place to live and exploring what the city has to offer were the first things to accomplish.  A nice apartment on the south side of Anchorage with a view of the Chugach Mountains has been leased.  It was a little wait to move in as the owner was replacing all the flooring and the dishwasher so everything should be nice.  Furniture shopping complete to fill the apartment with the necessities and it was time to explore a little.

Anchorage is built on on a triangle piece of land with Turnagain Arm and Knik Arm of the Cook Inlet hemming it in on two sides.  The third side borders Elmendorf Airforce Base and Richards Army Base.  This prevents further growth in the city and causes half the states population to live in a small area.  Military families are everywhere you go in town and businesses all ask if I'm military as they offer discounts to those that are.  It must be the buzz cut I guess.   I now sometimes ask if they give a military discount and if the Salvation Army counts.  Some stores have actually given me the discount.

Cloudy day on Turnagain Arm, Cook Inlet, North Pacific Ocean

Cook Inlet sunet

A trip one afternoon to Anchorage's Kincaid Park on the point of land between Turnagain and Knik Arms revealed a huge city park with biking, hiking and cross country skiing trails.  The park also had soccer fields and a frisbee golf course.  This seems to be popular here as I've seen people practicing all over the city.  The walk through the park was pleasant and revealed over 10 miles of bike trails and views of the water.  At low tides the mud flats stretch out into the ocean revealing lines and designs in every direction.  Moose scat littered the ground in some places.  Moose are prevalent in the city and coexist with humans in this tight place.  I'm told a few years ago on the UAA campus a gentleman was killed by a moose when he inadvertently walked between a cow and her baby.

Cook Inlet Sunset

They are in city parks and back yards.  A family of 10 black bears also reside in the city virtually undetected.  Alaska State Naturalists discovered them this past year and keep track of them.  In addition to the moose and black bears, grizzly bears reside within the city limits although closer to the mountains.  The city for the past 40 years has expanded off the flats and crept up the hill side.  The area is named Hillside.   Alaskan's apparently are not known for their originality.  One of the worst bear attacks in the states history took place in that area a few years ago when two joggers rounded a corner in a park and met a grizzly bear with a fresh moose kill.  The bear instantly killed the joggers and another man who came to help.  These stories were related to me by Marco, the leader of the Eagle River Camera Club that I joined.  The conversation revealed what I had already begun to figure out about Anchorage.  The small city is filled with urban city dwellers.  Yuppies if I may label them.  They live in a city that only precariously exists on the edge of a vast wilderness.  The city has one road in and one road out.  These going only north and south.  There is only one supplier of electricity and one for cable in the entire state.  The city exists in the wilderness and a lot of the residents have long forgotten this. The saying in Alaska is that "once you step off the pavement you enter the food chain".

Glacial Ice, Byron Glacier

A trip down Route 1 south along Turnagain Arm revealed beautiful views of the water and a dramatic sunset.  This only fueled my desire to explore farther.  Another day's trip led down toward Whittier, Alaska.  The road winds along the Arm hugging the base of the tall snow capped mountain.  Gates along the highway in places wait to close the road off when avalanches occur.  Avalanche signs warn to not stop for the next X amount of miles as the road winds it's way east around the end of Turnagain Arm.  At the end of the Arm, before it turns to the south to cross the glacial rivers that feed the Arm, the Whittier Road turns to the left.  In the distance, in the tall mountains, Portage Glacier looms in the mountain pass.  The road passes the National Park for Portage and Byron Glacier and Portage Lake.  After going through a small tunnel along the rail line, you come to a toll booth.  At this point the road will enter a long tunnel carved through the mountains to the landlocked coastal town of Whittier on the Prince William Sound.  Until a few years ago the town was only accessible by sea, plane or the railroad the government installed when the town was converted for military purposes to a staging point during World War II.  Now the vehicle tunnel goes through the mountain as well but is only open for 15 minutes each hour for traffic going in each direction.  The one lane tunnel carries all the traffic to the town and the waits can be long.  Deciding not to pay the twelve dollar toll, I turned around and headed back to Byron Glacier.

Byron glacier is nestled in a valley next to the valley that Portage Glacier fills.  While Portage glacier ends into a lake, Byron glacier ends with a stream exiting the bottom of the glacier and is a hanging glacier.  The blue ice, compacted by pressure, fills the valley turning the air cold around it. The stream under the glacier has carved a cave revealing blue ice and interesting geometric shapes. The ice is hard and smooth from the wear of ages of movement.  After exploring the cave and awing at the view of the valley below with snow covered mountains glinting in the sun, we climbed up the moraine to the base of the glaciers toe (the end of the glacier).  The moraine's jumble of huge rocks and boulders was a challenging climb that took some time to cross to view the glaciers toe. Mounds of boulders filled the valley at the end of the glacier where it had unceremoniously dropped them on it's retreat as the world warms.  I never had dreamed a year ago that I would be standing on and under a glacier in my life.  I have always wanted to see a glacier before they melted and disappeared. Now I have many within a few hours drive of home.  Plans are being made for next summer to hike along Exit glacier to view the Harding Ice field.  

Exploring the city itself has been an interesting adventure for me.  I'm used to being very rural and have been having fun exploring Anchorage.  Anchorage is a small city by comparison to those in the Lower 48.  I'm told it's about the size of Toledo, Ohio.  I've never been there so I'll take people's word on that as Toledo is not on the list of places I want to visit.  I'm actually not sure if it's on anyone's list of places to visit.  Anchorage has a three story mall downtown, art galleries, a performing arts center and the requisite souvenir shops.  I feel safe walking downtown but parking appears to be difficult.  I'm hoping to photograph the ceremonial start of the Iditerod in March as the dogsleds start on 4th street.  The actual start is the following day in Willow, Alaska just north of Anchorage.  I'm planning to attend both.  It would be fun to see the finish in Nome 1100 miles northwest on the Bering Sea but that is certainly out of my price range at this point.

Anchorage is a lot bigger than I first thought it to be.  It doesn't take long to travel across it but the different sections and areas get confusing.  I've been in the University area and now moving to the Huffman area in the south.  This is a whole different set of roads, loops and all the same businesses as other parts of town.  Generica all begins to look the same to me and gets confusing.  At least I know it's an easy commute to work (around 15 minutes) if I don't forget to turn where I need to. That happens often with me here.

Monday is my first day of work for the University.  It should be interesting.  My first non private sector job.  I'm told the politics at the University is interesting due to being a state university but that doesn't concern me.  My position doesn't require a lot of interaction with people that would involve that.  I was brought on board to run/fix print engines and some IT functions.  A new chapter in a place.  I'm homesick for my mountain, friends and family but determined to live here for a while.  There's so much to explore, see and do.  The point will come when I'll return to Pennsylvania but not just yet.

Eagle near Exit Glacier, Seward, Alaska

Exploring Anchorage a little

Yesterday was a day of getting settled in a little.  No new photographs to post.  I met with my new manager and was shown where I'll be working.  It'll be weird going back to printing after being a service engineer for so long but the group seems really nice. It should be interesting.  I got my parking pass set up and then it was off to explore the city a little.

The suite the university put us up in is very nice but I'm anxious to find a permanent place.  We called six places that looked nice but had to leave messages.  This is very frustrating.  I wanted to go check them out over the weekend.  Try again on Monday.

We made the trip downtown. The city is very small actually.  It just has a lot of people in it.  It might be Binghamton size.  We found a bank to exchange our Canadian money.  They would only take the paper currency but not the dollar/two dollar coins.  We drove downtown, which is only 15 minutes in traffic from the university, and found a place to park. Walking up 5th Avenue we passed some taller buildings but most are shorter due to being in an earthquake zone.  A couple of walkways bridge the street linking buildings to parking garages but it definitely was much smaller a city than Seattle. We had come downtown as I was told by Elizabeth, the Conferencing and Residential Coordinator, that they have an event called First Friday.  Every Friday of the month the art gallery's stay open late and have food.  We wandered through a few of the art galleries looking at the local Alaskan art for sale.  They had sculptures to photographs to paintings for sale.  All very expensive so we just window shopped but it was fun.  My favorite Alaskan artist, Jon Vanzyle, had a whole room dedicated to his work at one gallery.  I have a print of his I bought in Homer last summer but the ones displayed in Anchorage were original prints and out of my price range.  Vanzyle is the official artist of the Iditerod Dog Sled race and produces the artwork for the posters every year for the race.

While leaving the downtown area, we found one of the malls.  It's in the middle of downtown and instead of being a large sprawling building it's several stories tall spanning several blocks.  Walkways above the street link the buildings together.  I have never seen a mall like that.

This afternoon it's supposed to be nice and a trip to Kincaid Park to walk the beach a little is planned.  Hopefully the weather turns out nice.  It's been cloudy and rainy here since we arrived.  Normal for this time of year although usually there's snow on the ground by now.  Have to check the weather once the sun comes up.  It's usually around 10:00am this time of year before it does.  It's hard to judge waking up when it's dark in the morning.

Safe in Anchorage

Welcome sign along the Alaskan Highway at the border.

It was a frosty 16 degrees (Fahrenheit not Celsius as we were thankfully back in the U.S.) in Tok, Alaska when we started re-packing the car for the final leg of the journey five hours south to Anchorage.  As I packed I noticed the motel had posts in front of every room.  A quick glance at them revealed electric outlets on each post that explained their reason for being there.  The outlets were to plug in your car's circulation pumps that are necessary this far north when the temperatures reach fifty to sixty below zero and a car will not start.  The pump heats and circulates the antifreeze to keep the engine warm.  Another reminder that we're not in Pennsylvania any more.

After checking out of the motel/restaurant onto the Tok's main street, we made a right turn on the Tok Cutoff headed to Alaska's largest city where half the states population resides.  We could have continued up the Alaskan Highway toward Fairbanks to the turnoff at mile marker 1422 but this cutoff route in good weather cut hours off the trip.  The road, built high up on the permafrost, ran through muskeg tundra with high snow capped peaks in the distance.  This seems to have been a recurring theme the last 3000 miles.  During my first trip to Alaska the mountains had me in awe.  I can now say after making this journey that they not so much awe me as they do still excite and inspire me.  I have crossed the Rockies and the continental divide three times now in two weeks.  I have traveled north through length of the Canadian Rockies. I have seen the mountains change from high peaks and valleys to rounded hills surrounding northern prairie then barren high plains. The sight of the mountains is more common place to me but I still feel excited at the sight of them.  I still long to explore.

After a couple of hours on the road, meeting very little traffic, I had to stop the car suddenly in the middle of the road.  Eight elk bulls were blocking the highway.  Two were large 6 X 6 elk with the rest being young spikes. We tried to get pictures but they moved too fast as we heard them crashing into the brush along the road.  The road then wound up into the mountain passes and we could see the snow covered peaks rising above the snow covered valleys below.  As the highway wound it's way up through the passes of the Matanuska mountains the air became foggy then changed to snow.  The snow was several inches deep along the road covered the road surface making the going very slow.  Snow and ice colored the road white as we creeped along the mountain road. An hour of this and the road dropped in elevation. The snow on the road and hillsides abruptly disappeared.  This left us with the beautiful scenes of the mountains before us as we passed several glaciers grinding their way slowly out of the mountains.

The road then narrowed considerably along the glacial river and crews were working for miles to clear the roadsides of debris from landslides.  For sixty miles the signs warned of slide areas and rocks littered the road in places.  The small towns we did pass through had little to no activity or open businesses.  Palmer would be the next stop for gas on the trip south.  Palmer passed by as a suburb on Wasilla.  Both appear to be nice areas with the modern conveniences that Generica has to offer.  However, despite what Sarah Palin said I was unable to see Russia from there.  She might want to re-think her geography knowledge or get better glasses.  After a stop at a Fred Myers for lunch and to restock our bottled water supply, we were back on the road for the last 40 miles into Anchorage.  Traffic picked up as we neared the city and we were glad to see our exit to the university was one of the first we saw.  Through the thick rush hour traffic we quickly found where we had to go to meet our contact for housing.

The university is a beautiful campus with a large hospital and Tribal medical center.  New buildings are being constructed for the Engineering departments and new sports arena for the UAA Seawolves.  The dorm suite they have provided is nice and spacious.  We have use of it for as long as we need it at a very nominal cost.  A walk around the local portion of the campus revealed a nice campus with walking trail and restaurants nearby.   Tomorrow's agenda consists of meeting my new manager, setting up my parking and apartment hunting.

Glacier along the Tok Cutoff to Anchorage

Unfortunately with the overcast skies of the past two days, pictures didn't turn out well.  There will be plenty of other days for pictures.  I can't wait to explore Anchorage and Alaska.

One last tribute to Robert Service in honor of the trip through the north country.  I found this one appropriate for the journey north.

The Quitter

by Robert W. Service

When you're lost in the Wild, and you're scared as a child, And Death looks you bang in the eye, And you're sore as a boil, it's according to Hoyle To cock your revolver and . . . die. But the Code of a Man says: "Fight all you can," And self-dissolution is barred. In hunger and woe, oh, it's easy to blow . . . It's the hell-served-for-breakfast that's hard. "You're sick of the game!" Well, now, that's a shame. You're young and you're brave and you're bright. "You've had a raw deal!" I know -- but don't squeal, Buck up, do your damnedest, and fight. It's the plugging away that will win you the day, So don't be a piker, old pard! Just draw on your grit; it's so easy to quit: It's the keeping-your-chin-up that's hard. It's easy to cry that you're beaten -- and die; It's easy to crawfish and crawl; But to fight and to fight when hope's out of sight -- Why, that's the best game of them all! And though you come out of each grueling bout, All broken and beaten and scarred, Just have one more try -- it's dead easy to die, It's the keeping-on-living that's hard.

Alaska!!!!

10:00am Sunrise along the Alaskan Highway near Whitehorse, Yukon Territory

It was barely light and lightly raining in Whitehorse when the car merged onto the Alaskan Highway at 9:30am  headed northwest for the final leg of the journey through the Yukon Territory.  The rain quickly turned to snow but soon the skies cleared an hour out of Whitehorse to reveal a beautiful sunrise. Within an hour of being on the highway on a straight away two elk cows stepped out of the brush on the roadside.  Their breath was white frost in the chilly morning air.

The road through the western potion of the Yukon is rough, barren and lonely.  The few small towns are long distances apart.  Many listed on the map turned out to be just an abandoned business that was boarded up and dilapidated.  The road was straight and rose and fell with the terrain.  It was obvious the road had been improved in places where the old highway was visible as it went around hills then rolled up and over steep hilltops.  The new road ran straighter and with less hills as cuts had been made through the hills.  The road ran toward high snow capped mountains and turned north skirting them.  These were the St Elias Mountains.  Thankfully we did not have to go over them.  The road followed the wide valley between the mountains rising higher and higher.

The Alaskan Highway (Alcan) follows the river valleys through this high section of the Yukon.  The highway runs straight with sweeping curves.  It bumps up and down like a roller coaster where the permafrost has heaved it.  You could see the bumps in the road by watching the white lines along the side the road (where there were white lines).  For miles the road was so rough with bumps and patches it was a slow going slalom course driving on both sides of the road to avoid them.  With the lack of traffic in either direction, I drove on the left side of the road often to avoid the bad sections.

Abandoned business along the Alcan

The highway passed a few abandoned businesses and houses as it wound northwest up the river valleys and over a long high ridge.  The road after Haines Junction climbed steadily for miles and miles as it climbed over a ridge then around the south end of Kluane lake.  A glacier in the St Elias range was visible high in the mountains on our left.  We crossed the wide rocky Slim, Donjek and White glacial rivers.  It was remote as we wound through the scrub pine trees on the tundra.  The road became covered with snow and ice in sections.  The plow truck had spread sand so travelling was good but with the poor condition of the road itself, it was a little nerve racking.

Casualty of the Alaskan Highway.  Roll over accident in the middle of nowhere.

After hours of driving, with only the occasional tractor trailer bumping by us heading south, we arrived in Beaver Creek.  This is the most western town in Canada and hours away from anything else.  The nearest big town with a grocery store was Whitehorse six and a half hours away.  This was the only gas station we had seen for over 125 miles and it would be 100 miles to Tok, Alaska. We made a stop here for gas at 3:00pm. The young girl working the register (wearing boots and pajama pants) informed us we were her first customers of the day when she had a problem with the cash register.  Leaving Beaver Creek it was a 30 mile drive to the U.S. border.  The highway for this last section was a wide dirt track.  Luckily it was smoother than the paved highway we had been driving for the past two hours.

Kluane Lake

Nearing Beaver Creek, Yukon Territory

Shortly after leaving Beaver Creek the U.S. border came into view.  This was a small building on a hill with nothing else around.  It only had three lanes and two of those were closed.  The border guard was nice and very relaxed.  I had worried about crossing back in the U.S. and having the packed car searched.  This worry was for nothing as the guard asked a few questions and gave us our passports back.  Apparently, terrorists aren't common in the Yukon in late October especially ones driving Hyundai Tuscons.  I had thought there would be a town at the border crossing.  I could not have been more wrong.  There was just that small building.  The road, however, did become noticeably better and I welcomed the signs in miles per hour. The Alaskan portion to Tok wound over some hills with snow capped mountains in the distance.  It was eighty miles of snow and ice covered highway to Tok and our stop for the night.  The motel, restaurant combination is nice and tomorrow it's on to Anchorage.

As a I spent the majority of today driving the last section of the Alaskan Highway through the Yukon, I thought I'd post another poem as homage to Robert Service the famed poet of the Yukon.

The Ballad of Blasphemous Bill

by Robert W. Service

I took a contract to bury the body Of blasphemous Bill MacKie, Whenever, wherever or whatsoever The manner of death he die -- Whether he die in the light o' day Or under the peak-faced moon; In cabin or dance-hall, camp or dive, Mucklucks or patent shoon; On velvet tundra or virgin peak, By glacier, drift or draw; In muskeg hollow or canyon gloom, By avalanche, fang or claw; By battle, murder or sudden wealth, By pestilence, hooch or lead -- I swore on the Book I would follow and look Till I found my tombless dead. For Bill was a dainty kind of cuss, And his mind was mighty sot On a dinky patch with flowers and grass In a civilized bone-yard lot. And where he died or how he died, It didn't matter a damn So long as he had a grave with frills And a tombstone "epigram". So I promised him, and he paid the price In good cheechako coin (Which the same I blowed in that very night Down in the Tenderloin). Then I painted a three-foot slab of pine: "Here lies poor Bill MacKie", And I hung it up on my cabin wall And I waited for Bill to die. Years passed away, and at last one day Came a squaw with a story strange, Of a long-deserted line of traps 'Way back of the Bighorn range; Of a little hut by the great divide, And a white man stiff and still, Lying there by his lonesome self, And I figured it must be Bill. So I thought of the contract I'd made with him, And I took down from the shelf The swell black box with the silver plate He'd picked out for hisself; And I packed it full of grub and "hooch", And I slung it on the sleigh; Then I harnessed up my team of dogs And was off at dawn of day. You know what it's like in the Yukon wild When it's sixty-nine below; When the ice-worms wriggle their purple heads Through the crust of the pale blue snow; When the pine-trees crack like little guns In the silence of the wood, And the icicles hang down like tusks Under the parka hood; When the stove-pipe smoke breaks sudden off, And the sky is weirdly lit, And the careless feel of a bit of steel Burns like a red-hot spit; When the mercury is a frozen ball, And the frost-fiend stalks to kill -- Well, it was just like that that day when I Set out to look for Bill. Oh, the awful hush that seemed to crush Me down on every hand, As I blundered blind with a trail to find Through that blank and bitter land; Half dazed, half crazed in the winter wild, With its grim heart-breaking woes, And the ruthless strife for a grip on life That only the sourdough knows! North by the compass, North I pressed; River and peak and plain Passed like a dream I slept to lose And I waked to dream again. River and plain and mighty peak -- And who could stand unawed? As their summits blazed, he could stand undazed At the foot of the throne of God. North, aye, North, through a land accurst, Shunned by the scouring brutes, And all I heard was my own harsh word And the whine of the malamutes, Till at last I came to a cabin squat, Built in the side of a hill, And I burst in the door, and there on the floor, Frozen to death, lay Bill. Ice, white ice, like a winding-sheet, Sheathing each smoke-grimed wall; Ice on the stove-pipe, ice on the bed, Ice gleaming over all; Sparkling ice on the dead man's chest, Glittering ice in his hair, Ice on his fingers, ice in his heart, Ice in his glassy stare; Hard as a log and trussed like a frog, With his arms and legs outspread. I gazed at the coffin I'd brought for him, And I gazed at the gruesome dead, And at last I spoke: "Bill liked his joke; But still, goldarn his eyes, A man had ought to consider his mates In the way he goes and dies." Have you ever stood in an Arctic hut In the shadow of the Pole, With a little coffin six by three And a grief you can't control? Have you ever sat by a frozen corpse That looks at you with a grin, And that seems to say: "You may try all day, But you'll never jam me in"? I'm not a man of the quitting kind, But I never felt so blue As I sat there gazing at that stiff And studying what I'd do. Then I rose and I kicked off the husky dogs That were nosing round about, And I lit a roaring fire in the stove, And I started to thaw Bill out. Well, I thawed and thawed for thirteen days, But it didn't seem no good; His arms and legs stuck out like pegs, As if they was made of wood. Till at last I said: "It ain't no use -- He's froze too hard to thaw; He's obstinate, and he won't lie straight, So I guess I got to -- saw." So I sawed off poor Bill's arms and legs, And I laid him snug and straight In the little coffin he picked hisself, With the dinky silver plate; And I came nigh near to shedding a tear As I nailed him safely down; Then I stowed him away in my Yukon sleigh, And I started back to town. So I buried him as the contract was In a narrow grave and deep, And there he's waiting the Great Clean-up, When the Judgment sluice-heads sweep; And I smoke my pipe and I meditate In the light of the Midnight Sun, And sometimes I wonder if they was, The awful things I done. And as I sit and the parson talks, Expounding of the Law, I often think of poor old Bill -- And how hard he was to saw.

Along the Alaskan Highway

The Alaskan Highway, Yukon Territory, Canada

9:00am Downtown Watson Lake

9:00am Downtown Watson Lake

The sun rose above Watson Lake, Yukon Territory, Canada and bathed the two dirt streets along this straight section of the Alaskan Highway with diffused light.  It was still dusk at 9:00am.  That's correct.  It was 9:00am and just starting to get light. A stark reminder that we were closer to the Arctic Circle and not at home.   A quick stop at the Native run convenience store, next to the only three motels in town lined all in a row, provided a breakfast for the road.  Nine dollars bought a box of pop tarts and a very small orange juice. Another reminder that we were not in the U.S. any more.  Food, gas and lodging are incredibly high in the small towns in this remote wilderness.  The dirt, pot hole filled parking lot of the store was frozen hard and slippery where ice covered the ground.  A conversation with a local had informed us that winter was late arriving to this part of the Yukon.  Usually it would be colder and more snow would be on the ground for the remainder of the long winter.

Before heading out of town, we stopped at the Sign Post Forest.  This unique park covered a three acre portion of the town and had walls covered with signs from all over the world. Road and highway signs were tacked on walls along with license plates from travelers passing through.  A Pennsylvania Interstate 81 sign and a novelty front license plate from Nauvoo, a small village southwest of Liberty, PA brought back memories from home in Tioga County.  If we had known about this park, we would have brought something from home to leave as homage to the infamous Alaskan Highway.  It would have been fun to leave our mark as an indicator that we had passed through this remote wilderness.

The Alaskan Highway winding through the Yukon is ribbon of asphalt running between a wide corridor carved out of the pine forest. The highway is also known as Route 1.  One of only four highways in the entire territory and of those, one of the only two that are paved. Originally built as a military haul road to connect Alaska to the Lower 48, the rough dirt road has been upgraded and is now paved.  The pavement is heaved, cracked and patched as it winds over hills and across rivers.  During the entire drive from Watson Lake to the territory capitol of Whitehorse, a total of 5 hours, we only saw two other vehicles going in our direction.  There were many tractor trailers coming east.  All had Alaska license plates and large grill guards on the front to protect the trucks from animal collisions.  The trucks were an impressive sight as they topped the rises coming toward us on the highway. Their tall twin exhaust stacks belched smoke as black as coal.

Teslin, Yukon territory, Canada

Over hills and rivers the highway wound its way through the wilderness. Pine trees stretched for miles in every direction backing up to high snow covered mountains.  The road rose and fell with the terrain. Occasionally a long lake would appear through the trees or directly below the elevated roadway.  The highway had been build on a base raising it thirty feet above the forest floor.  The view of the tree tops created a carpet affect as you looked out the car windows.  A couple of small villages along the highway were comprised of a few houses and junk cars.  Sign and sign along the road advertised campgrounds with large closed signed across them.  Lodging and fuel are a huge concern along the Alaskan Highway.  The days travel must be carefully planned.  Our destination of Whitehorse had been carefully chosen as the next larger town with lodging was Tok, Alaska eight hours past Whitehorse.  There's very few villages between the two larger towns and gas stations tend to close early in the evening we were warned.  Plus dark comes early this time of year this far north.  The only safe choice for travel was Whitehorse.  Between Watson Lake and Whitehorse the only fuel stop was Teslin.  Two gas stations and handful of houses comprised this small village next to a large bridge crossing the Teslin River.  The narrow open grate bridge was long and boasted a sign before the bridge that appropriately warned of a rough bridge deck.

Five hours after leaving Watson Lake and driving through a vast forest ringed by mountains, signs appeared for Whitehorse.  Street lights began to line the highway and signs advertising local businesses dotted the roadside.  Turning down the hill into Whitehorse revealed a town much different then what I had been told it was like in the 1970's and 80's.  A small frontier town with a wild west feel back then, that proudly boasted the only paved section of road on the whole highway, now had a feel of a modern small city.  I had heard tales of guys that had hung out in the town telling tales of wild partying, drinking and TV's being thrown out of the windows of the Yukon Hotel.  Now it's a small city boasting Mcdonalds, Tim Hortons, Pizza Hut and even a Walmart.  Even in the middle of nowhere the evil empire shows it's presence.  For curiosity sake, a quick trip to the only Walmart in the Yukon revealed disappointingly that they in fact did not sell racks of flannel shirts and suspenders.  Robert Service is probably turning over in his grave knowing that his tales of the Malamute Saloon  has been replaced by goods mass produced by slave labor in China.  I'm sure his Yukon is still alive up here somewhere but Whitehorse has changed much in the past 100 years.  Natives worked in all the businesses and teenagers wandered the downtown streets enjoying the sunshine while they still could before winter fully set in.  New modern architecture mixed with older buildings to form the downtown area of the small city. Territory government buildings were a looming presence in the one time wild gold mining boom town.

Tomorrow it's on to Tok, Alaska further along the Alaskan Highway.  The border crossing back into the U.S. should be interesting.  Hopefully, we're not picked for a random search as the car is packed so tightly it might not be possible to repack.  Two more days to arriving in Anchorage and the end of this segment of the journey weather permitting.

The Shooting of Dan McGraw

by Robert W. Service

A bunch of the boys were whooping it up In the Malamute saloon; The kid that handles the music-box Was hitting a jag-time tune; Back of the bar, in a solo game, Sat Dangerous Dan McGrew, And watching his luck was his light-o'-love, The lady that's known as Lou. When out of the night, which was fifty below, And into the din and the glare, There stumbled a miner fresh from the creeks, Dog-dirty, and loaded for bear. He looked like a man with a foot in the grave And scarcely the strength of a louse, Yet he tilted a poke of dust on the bar, And he called for drinks for the house. There was none could place the stranger's face, Though we searched ourselves for a clue; But we drank his health, and the last to drink Was Dangerous Dan McGrew. There's men that somehow just grip your eyes, And hold them hard like a spell; And such was he, and he looked to me Like a man who had lived in hell; With a face most hair, and the dreary stare Of a dog whose day is done, As he watered the green stuff in his glass, And the drops fell one by one. Then I got to figgering who he was, And wondering what he'd do, And I turned my head -- and there watching him Was the lady that's known as Lou. His eyes went rubbering round the room, And he seemed in a kind of daze, Till at last that old piano fell In the way of his wandering gaze. The rag-time kid was having a drink; There was no one else on the stool, So the stranger stumbles across the room, And flops down there like a fool. In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt He sat, and I saw him sway; Then he clutched the keys with his talon hands -- My God! but that man could play. Were you ever out in the Great Alone, When the moon was awful clear, And the icy mountains hemmed you in With a silence you most could HEAR; With only the howl of a timber wolf, And you camped there in the cold, A half-dead thing in a stark, dead world, Clean mad for the muck called gold; While high overhead, green, yellow and red, The North Lights swept in bars? -- Then you've a haunch what the music meant . . . Hunger and night and the stars. And hunger not of the belly kind, That's banished with bacon and beans, But the gnawing hunger of lonely men For a home and all that it means; For a fireside far from the cares that are, Four walls and a roof above; But oh! so cramful of cosy joy, And crowned with a woman's love -- A woman dearer than all the world, And true as Heaven is true -- (God! how ghastly she looks through her rouge, -- The lady that's known as Lou.) Then on a sudden the music changed, So soft that you scarce could hear; But you felt that your life had been looted clean Of all that it once held dear; That someone had stolen the woman you loved; That her love was a devil's lie; That your guts were gone, and the best for you Was to crawl away and die. 'Twas the crowning cry of a heart's despair, And it thrilled you through and through -- "I guess I'll make it a spread misere," Said Dangerous Dan McGrew. The music almost died away . . . Then it burst like a pent-up flood; And it seemed to say, "Repay, repay," And my eyes were blind with blood. The thought came back of an ancient wrong, And it stung like a frozen lash, And the lust awoke to kill, to kill . . . Then the music stopped with a crash, And the stranger turned, and his eyes they burned In a most peculiar way; In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt He sat, and I saw him sway; Then his lips went in in a kind of grin, And he spoke, and his voice was calm, And "Boys," says he, "you don't know me, And none of you care a damn; But I want to state, and my words are straight, And I'll bet my poke they're true, That one of you is a hound of hell . . . and that one is Dan McGrew." Then I ducked my head, and the lights went out, And two guns blazed in the dark, And a woman screamed, and the lights went up, And two men lay stiff and stark. Pitched on his head, and pumped full of lead, Was Dangerous Dan McGrew, While the man from the creeks lay clutched to the breast Of the lady that's known as Lou. These are the simple facts of the case, And I guess I ought to know. They say that the stranger was crazed with "hooch", And I'm not denying it's so. I'm not so wise as the lawyer guys, But strictly between us two -- The woman that kissed him and -- pinched his poke -- Was the lady that's known as Lou.