This is the beginning of the end of this stay.

This will be our last Friday in Alaska unless something untoward occurs.

We decided to give the fish one more try.

Since we had been to Eagle Rock we decided to try Morgan’s Landing. We stopped and talked to a ranger there and found that floods last winter had damaged the fish walk to such an extent that they had been removed. In addition the bank foliage had grown so far out over the river there was really no place to fish unless one had waders and got pretty far out into the current. This was in addition to the bear activity I mentioned the other day. Also, we had no waders. We went on to Swiftwater.

A few other faithful were on the walk or in the river. We joined them. After a few casts for Silvers Onie picked up her rod rigged for reds and made her first kerplunk. Almost immediately she yelled fish on. I grabbed the net and hustled down the grate just in time to see the fish swim off. Onie stayed with it trying for more reds while I went back to the silvers. Near the end of ninety minutes I felt a violent strike on my silver lure. For an instant I thought I had one and then the fish settled down. He was no minnow but he was no silver, either. Very quickly I discovered I had about a two-pound rainbow trout. We carefully strung him not sure if we wanted to keep him. After a few minutes we decided we’d had all the fun we could stand for one day. We started gathering our things, to leave. When we got to the fish stringer we decided that we didn’t want to have frozen trout and that is what it would be if we kept it. After a few minutes in a backwater the trout disappeared into the fast water. Perhaps we will catch him sometime in the future when he will be as big as a Road Canyon fish.

We sat in the car and had a snack Onie had thoughtfully brought along and discussed our next move.

We still hadn’t finished our Christmas shopping so we headed off to the local shops to see what we could find and to also try to help the local economy. Over the next three hours we made three shops. It would be fair to say we did our part to be sure they will survive.

When the clock was approaching six we headed for the house. On the way home we stopped one more time at Hanson’s, a place that makes art objects out of trees. We were looking for a bowl but didn’t find it. What we did find was a man who could make us a sign to hang on the front of the coach, when we are parked, telling folks in the park who we are. He also made us a sign to put on our fence in Coldspring.

Now time was really growing short before the Friday night cookout at the RV Park. We hurried home where Onie made a potato casserole for our contribution. As soon as we could we took the casserole, our chairs, plates and the rest of our things and headed to the campfire. The group was gathering around an already blazing fire. Dennis and his wife Anita were there. He would cook the crabs, again. Several of their grandchildren played around the fire and among the seated campers. A retired cop, from Scottsdale, Tony, and his wife were there along with Mike Reberg, a retired salesman from Seattle along with several other campers and locals. Missing from the local crowd were our new friends Mike and his wife Lynn. Due to his overtime they had to miss the festivities and good eats. Dennis had announced last week that this would be the last cookout of the season. Although no one mentioned it the knowledge seemed to permeate the air with folks talking of the summer in the past tense and to a degree it seemed like the camping was winding down. Most stayed late into the night visiting, talking about past trips, this summer and trips to come. When the fire burned low we deserted the setting and headed to the coach and bed.

Preparations began for the trip home. We will most likely be away from washers and dryers for some time so we washed all our dirty clothes. While the robots did the washing I worked outside preparing the toad and its contents as well as cleaning up some items to go in the basement. Onie labored over her laptop completing week eleven, editing and inserting pictures. We wanted to get the most up to date scribblings on the web since we don’t know the next time we will get to post. When the wash was finished we headed back to Soldotna, stopping at Custom Seafood Processors on the way, to give shipping instructions on the fish and finish our Christmas shopping.

At the fish processors we found we had two hundred forty eight and eight tenths pounds of sockeye salmon fillets. Our guess had been two fifty. Instructions were given to the folks and they told us our fish would arrive next Thursday, at David Matthew’s.

With this detail taken care of we made the rounds of the shops again and were able to complete our Christmas shopping. Now when we get back to lake Road all we have to do is wrap and wait for the fat man.

We headed home with our treasures but stopped again at Hanson’s to pick up our completed signs.

Just before you reach Moose River RV Park you get to Suzie’s Diner. We hadn’t eaten at Suzie’s yet and she had come highly recommended so we pulled in to check it out.

Suzie’s seems to always have a full parking lot. I didn’t know if that meant there was nowhere else in the neighborhood to park or if the food and service were good but we would soon know. The deck was full of diners as we climbed the three steps to the entry. Waitresses were bustling here and there delivering food to hungry patrons. We were greeted promptly and seated at the only empty table, inside. The menu, while not lengthy, provided a varied selection. We had some stuffed jalapenos for an appetizer. Onie decided on a Swiss Jalapeno Burger and I had the halibut. When the food arrived it was hot, tasty and there was a lot of it. When the meal was over we continued to the coach where Onie had a blueberry cobbler waiting to go into the oven.

With the smell of cooking cobbler wafting through an open window I hurried to get everything outside taken care of so I would be inside when the cobbler came out of the oven. Onie helped get the awning up and secured and I was inside just in time to see the bubbling mixture emerge from the oven. Only little boys and big boys really know how long it takes for a hot cobbler to cool enough so it doesn’t burn the roof of your mouth. By the clock that may be ten or fifteen minutes, by the taste buds and tummy it may seem like forever. I wrote and Onie played spider while we waited. Forever finally passed and we filled our bowls and dug in, fast at first and then slower as we took our time to savor the taste. I can’t believe we could have eaten the whole thing. We didn’t but we could have. We saved some for another time.

With the taste still on our tongues we went back to our laptops. There we stayed until drooping eyelids told us it was bedtime.

Another day and another dollar.

Eight o’clock found us astir. We competed the inside road prep and Onie headed off for a last visit with the DSL connection and a latte at Moose River. My teacup kept me company as I checked tires and basement compartments, disconnected landlines, flushed holding tanks and filled our fresh water tank. When I was ready to roll I walked to the office to see how Onie was coming with her web stuff. She was just about finished. While she was tying up loose ends I visited with Dennis and Anita then checked my email. When I had finished with my lengthy list Onie checked her’s and then signed off. It was after noon and time for us to be on the road.

With the toad in tow we went a few hundred yards and stopped at a service station to bring the tire pressure right up to snuff. They were each about two to three pounds low.

Sunday traffic in Sterling isn’t like Sunday traffic in Houston nor is it like Sunday traffic in Coldspring. A steady stream of motorhomes, fifth wheels, campers, slide ins, pickups and cars passed in each direction while we waited for a break in traffic to cross the road and head for Anchorage. It finally came and we were underway.

A patient person can enjoy the ride from Sterling to Anchorage. A person who feels compelled to set his own driving speed will be a bundle of jangled nerves and anxiety, or possibly dead, before the trip is over. Most of the road is two lanes with lots of curves and hills. Not many safe places to pass exist. Many drivers don’t seem to possess patience and as a result many pass on blind curves and hills. As you might guess part of the road, from Girdwood to Anchorage is the most dangerous piece of road in the state. More accidents and more fatalities occur there than any other place. We drove and rode with patience, enjoying the passing scenery and the leisurely pace. We stopped at Girdwood and bought fuel for both vehicles and then motored on into Anchorage and the Wal-Mart and Sam’s on Old Seward Hiway.

Parked next to a curb in Sam’s lot, with the head of our bed on the uphill side, we settled in for the evening. It was near five and nearing suppertime.

Outside the morning sun had given way to gathering clouds and increasing wind. Before we turned in the temperature was dropping along with a slow rain. Distant thunder combined with the roar of jets, from the nearby airport, filled our ears as the gentle shaking of the earth rocked us to sleep.

We arranged this day last week.

After a quick breakfast Onie set off in the Subaru to Continental Motors. She would have the recall item taken care of as well as getting an oil change. I had changed the air filter not too many days ago. After that she stopped by a glass shop and had the stars in the windshield drilled and epoxied so, hopefully, we won’t have to buy a new one. With that out of the way she went to the central post office and picked up our mail before coming by A&M RV where I was hanging out.

We looked at some new fifth wheels and slide ins before she drove us over to Don Jose’s for lunch. After lunch we went back to A&M to check on the progress on the coach and then we headed for Wingfoot Tire. I have talked at length with Michelin about our tire problems and their recommendation is that we replace the existing tires as soon as we can with tires that have more load carrying capacity. The Michelins are running at just about maximum load design. At Wingfoot we learned that to get tires with the load capacity that we are looking for we would need to modify the fender panels to gain more clearance. We went to TCI and bought a new Michelin, to use as a spare on the way to Coldspring. We apologize for buying a French product but no one else makes a tire the same size so we were stuck. When we are back we will have the modifications done and get four new rear tires. Until then we will be real careful and prayerful.

Onie took me back to A&M and then she went grocery shopping. We agreed to meet back at Sam’s where we had parked last night.

My time at A&M was spent telling the tech about the problems, riding with him to further explain, reading in the coach while he worked, poking my head under the coach while he worked, calling National RV and trying not to worry about what he may find. What he found was five breaks in welds, loose nuts on the sway bar and a loose nut on one of the shocks. All the nuts were lock nuts so my only thought was the nuts had never been properly tightened. He agreed. The broken welds may have been the result of the Al-Can but in his opinion they were done improperly or they wouldn’t have broken. At the end of the day all of the broken welds that could be repaired, without taking out the generator, were done. Those above the generator would have to wait until we get to Lake Rd. The repair will take at least a day. As of this writing, two days later, National hasn’t returned my phone calls.

With a much-relieved mind and a quieter coach I went back to Sam’s. Parked in the agreed on place and waited for Onie. She arrived, not too much later, laden with her groceries and other treasures. We got everything into the coach just before the wind and rain started.

As Onie prepared our supper we could tell the outside temperature was falling.

With dinner behind us we got out the dominoes and played a few games before bedtime.

It had rained off and on most of the night. When we woke we were sure that colder weather had moved in. The clouds in the slate gray sky looked more like they would bring snow rather than rain. That thought was dispelled when we opened our door. Over night it had turned warmer.

Before breakfast I headed off to Fine Line to pick up the fender panel. It plus the installation labor was paid in full. I hoped there would be no problem getting back the labor portion but I wasn’t sure. When I got there Mark was very cordial showing me the new panel and helping me load it and the pieces of the old panel. When we went through the invoice he told me he would just keep the labor cost for his time spent ordering the part. I disagreed and told him he had marked the part up twenty five percent and that was to cover his overhead and profit for parts. I explained I had spent many years in the insurance business and I knew how he was supposed to be paid. With that he flung open a file cabinet drawer, took out his checkbook and threw it on the desk. That was fine with him, he said in a huff. He wasn’t happy but he did make the refund. We parted on cool terms. I don’t think he wants me back if we have another problem and I’m willing to take my chances elsewhere.

Back in the coach Onie had breakfast waiting.

With breakfast behind us I sat down to take care of some data entry for the business and then I made some phone calls before heading off to cash the check from Fine Line. On the way I talked on the phone. It was just like old times in the insurance business, driving, talking, solving problems and making plans.

Back at the coach Onie and I put the towing cover on the Subaru, in a light rain. We hooked up and left Sam’s with the rain increasing and winds blowing a steady twenty miles an hour and gusting over thirty. It was a little past noon. We had no specific plans as to how far we wanted to go we just wanted to go until we were tired.

We got on the Glenn Hiway in downtown Anchorage and headed east-northeast. In town the road was good but the farther away we got from Anchorage the worse it became. At the end of an hour we were into serious frost heaves and a narrowing roadway. Hills and tight curves caused us to restrict our speed and we were sure our average was in the forties, maybe. A couple of hours out of Anchorage the on coming traffic became a trickle. We knew that soon that would change and we would meet a whole string of traffic. Sure enough it wasn’t long in coming and it was long. That meant only one thing. There was construction ahead with a flagger and pilot car. That meant a delay. It also meant worse road. I think I would rather drive through a cow pasture in Texas than a construction area in Alaska or the Yukon.

When we arrived at the construction we were five or six vehicles back from where the first car was stopped. We killed the Cummins and put on the emergency flashers until the next vehicle stopped behind us. Then we got up and stretched our legs. We got something to drink and I went outside and walked around a bit. Onie read. Sometime later the pilot car arrived, from the opposite direction, and then the long string of traffic went past.

Finally we were ready to move again. With the pilot car leading the way we followed over a surface made up of dirt, mud, gravel, rocks, beat up asphalt and small boulders. We tried to maintain a speed of about fifteen miles an hour but sometimes that was too fast for the road. Other times we could go a little faster and make up some distance on the truck in front of us. From time to time we met construction equipment or trucks. The pickups seemed determined to go fast enough to throw rocks onto us. Somehow we dodged that bullet. How far we went under those conditions I can’t say but it seemed like it was going to last forever and if I were to guess I would say twenty or thirty miles and well over an hour. When we finally got back on to pavement I felt like I had been driving twenty hours. It had been four. Onie must have seen I was tired because she asked if I was ready to stop. We agreed we would go just a little further.

When we saw Tolsana Wilderness RV Park we knew quittin’ time had arrived. We turned off the pavement and followed a gravel road three fourth’s of a mile, through the woods, to the office. We checked in and went to our pull through, leveled up, put out the slides and stopped the engine. It was quiet. It was very quiet. It had been a long time since we had been in a place with such an absence of sound. It was great.

After hooking up the water and electric, no sewer here, we settled down to enjoy the peace.

Later Onie cooked supper.

After that we picked up our books and read ‘til one.

When we went to bed there was no sirens in the distance, no airplanes overhead, no traffic on the street, no honking horns and no security lights. It was dark. We slept like babies.

We woke before nine, rested and refreshed like we hadn’t been in days.

Outside the wind was blowing very steady and strong. The sky was clouded over and it looked like if it didn’t rain it would miss a very good chance. Inside the coach was cool and stayed that way all day. When we were inside, which wasn’t much, I put the heater thermostat on sixty-eight and it came on almost instantly. Outside we layered up to stay warm in the cool windy weather.

After breakfast I made a few notes while Onie cleaned up the dishes. We discussed moving on but it was so quiet that we decided to stay another day, in the peaceful glade. We were parked next to a creek in among towering Sitka spruce and aspen. When we were outside we could hear the wind singing in the trees. When we were inside it was as quiet as a morgue. The creek held grayling and the nearby hillside was home to blueberries. We thought some of each would be nice.

While I wrote a little more Onie read.

It was time to catch some fish. We got our tackle out of the toad and headed off to the creek. We agreed that we would fish fifteen minutes and if we had no fish we would do something else. We fished the fifteen minutes plus another hour or so and never got close to a fish as far as we know. We did have a nice walk and saw some Alaskan woods.

Back at the coach we traded fishing tackle for berry picking stuff and set off on our next adventure. Walking to our berry patch we noticed that the fireweed is in its last stage. Almost all the blooms are gone and the stems are turning bright red. Winter is coming, soon. Half an hour of picking had yielded about twenty small berries. That wasn’t good. Onie was ready to call it an afternoon but we decided to check out a couple more places. She took the hillside and I took the valley. I found a few more berries and she found a lot more. I soon joined her and for the next hour we climbed the hillside and walked on turf that felt like sponge rubber. We stood and picked berries, we stooped, we knelt and we lay on our stomachs. We picked berries and when we had enough for pancakes a couple of mornings we agreed to leave the rest to the bears for surely there were bears in the area. We saw the scat everywhere we went. On the way back to the coach Onie called me over to a piece of ground she was studying. She pointed and asked if what she was looking at was a bear track. Indeed it was. There were several tracks, fairly fresh, I would say no more than a few hours old. The tracks appeared to have been made by a bear or bears in the two hundred pound range, a young adult, and the most dangerous kind. We walked on to the coach, another hundred yards.

In the coach we talked about the adventure in the quiet solitude and how much fun we had. We shared happy hour before Onie started dinner and I started writing.

Onie and I have been married over twenty-two years now but it has never been dull and she still takes time to do things for me. That includes putting together great meals. Tonight we had baked salmon, steamed broccoli and rice. The plate, presentation, looked as though it had come out of a gourmet kitchen (well it did) and tasted as good as it looked. Dessert, a little while later, was just blueberry cobbler!

When we had finished our feast Onie went back to her book and spider and I went back to my laptop for a little more scribbling.

Outside the wind had abated somewhat. The cool air became cold and the skies that threatened rain all day carried that threat into the dark of night.

The bed felt great when we finally lay down and the quiet that surrounded us guaranteed us a restful night.

The clouds that threatened rain last night made good early this morning. When we woke a gentle rain was falling. It continued throughout breakfast, disconnect and tank drainage. In fact in followed us until late afternoon.

Our breakfast was fit for a king and made us wish we had several of the grandkids and children with us to enjoy it. Our feast included coffee and tea, of course, thick bacon done until barely crisp and whole wheat pancakes with fresh wild blueberries. A little maple syrup on the pancakes floated over the butter and the whole thing just melted in our mouths. The berries were bear bait last afternoon and people bait this morning. They sure caught us.

Before leaving Tolsana we took a few pictures of our campsite and the aging fireweed.

Onie also took a picture of some fresh bear scat not ten feet in front of the coach.

At the dump station I got some good pictures of Onie with a couple of Alaskan cabbages and a flowerbed.

Then we took the gravel road back to the paved road. Pulling onto the pavement we hoped the worst of bad roads were behind us. Time would tell.

Glennallen was just a few miles down the road and a few more miles past that was the Tok Cutoff. The road to the cutoff was good and easy driving.

We turned onto the Tok Cutoff with mild trepidation and somewhat anxious. Our concerns were not unfounded. The Tok Cutoff had suffered the most severe damage of all Alaskan hiways in the November ’02 earthquake. Work had been going on all summer to repair the damage and restore it. All too soon we were into loose gravel, bad for windshields, radiators and toads. We took our time. There was only a hundred twenty five miles to go to get to Tok. If it took three hours that would be okay. Where there wasn’t loose gravel there was frost heaves and where there were no frost heaves or loose gravel there was quake breaks that had been patched by dripping hot tar into them. The ride was interesting and I honestly couldn’t tell you if we passed a herd of caribou numbering ten thousand as the road took all my attention.

The last ten miles into Tok is good road. It puts you in the mood to stop and drop a few scheckles before continuing on toward customs, ninety miles away. We were properly appreciative of the improved road so we stopped and bought a dozen eggs and fifty-five gallons of fuel. The hundred fifty miles had only taken four and a half hours. All in all we were glad it hadn’t taken longer.

With a full tank of fuel we stopped for a latte for Onie and a milkshake for me. While we put these away we made last minute calls to family and friends before embarking into the great cell phone signal wasteland. A few minutes east of Tok we would lose our signals and not have them again for days. Calls made we set out east.

The memory of the good road quickly slipped into the background as we patiently made our way over a jumble of asphalt that some call a road. We knew if we could make the border in two hours we would be fortunate. The good news is that it is a twenty four hour border crossing so no matter what time we got there we could go through, assuming the Canadians wanted us back. Alternating between thirty-five or forty, on the good stretches, and ten to fifteen on the broken washboard we went on. You might be surprised how much one can see while creeping along the road. Not much escaped us.

American Customs, they don’t even bother to stop you to say goodbye or come again. As a matter of fact they didn’t even wave as we eased by. Twenty miles into Canada we slowed and stopped for Canadian Customs officers. The two vehicles in front of us were quizzed at length and one pulled over for inspection (search). We presented our passports, answered the questions about guns, alcohol, tobacco and length of stay and then were wished a good stay in Canada. This was one of the easiest entries we had made.

I wish I could report that as soon as we passed customs that the road improved. I could report that but it would be a bald faced lie. The road was no better than the U.S. side. A few more miles were enough to convince us it was time to call it a day and park. Two hundred sixty five tough miles had worn us to a nubbin.

At eight o’clock we saw a pullout, with two other rigs already in for the night, and it was a welcome sight. We eased in between our new neighbors, let the turbocharger cool and shut down the Cummins.

 It was happy hour and a happy hour it was. We had covered a lot of bad road in the last two days, without mishap, and only had a few more to go before we would see some smooth pavement. A few days after that we would be on a good old US of A super slab.

Onie’s dinner was great, so what’s new, and then we played dominoes. A few games proved, again, that we are well matched.

We had lost an hour and were glad for it. We were anxious to hit the hay but didn’t feel like we could possibly go to bed before midnight. The new midnight was our old eleven. It was bedtime.