ANIMALS GALORE

Monday, June 01, 2009

We woke on the Wal-Mart parking lot.  Not really, we were in our bed in the coach which was on the Wal-Mart parking lot but the writer may have caused a few minds to turn when he said he slept on a parking lot.

The generator was started about seven thirty.  Outside it was fifty two.  Inside the furnace was running.

Onie prepared the tea, steel cut oats, added the blueberries and honey and pronounced breakfast ready for consumption.

After breakfast quick showers were taken and the coach readied for travel, to Safeway, two blocks away.

The driver stopped to fuel up while Onie went to shop.

Onie shopped for fresh vegetables, eggs and flour to make smoked pheasant gumbo, for supper tonight.  Shopping finished we had a latte and Chai tea.

We managed to leave by ten thirty and rode along for eighty miles on very smooth pavement.

At ten miles out of town the driver saw a mule deer but the deer escaped without letting its image being captured in a digital mode.

A little further on Onie’s sharp eye fell on two caribou.  This was a first for us as we have never seen caribou on a trip up, coming home yes, but not going.  For posterity sake, and also as indelible proof of the sighting, Onie got the sighting on camera.

The animals were in a cooperative mood today and shortly after seeing the caribou we saw a black bear feeding on grass, in the ditch.

Ft Nelson passed by our moving windows as we moved further north and to the sighting of another black bear.  In the Stone Mountain Park we saw more caribou,

another black bear, and not too far from partially frozen Summit Lake

we saw some mountain sheep.

Stone sheep.

Farther along were marmots and a small beaver trying to cross the road.

The majority of the sightings had come after the first eighty miles when the road had turned to a poor excuse for any road. We had gone through nine kilometers of construction where the road was rough, rocky, very soft to the point of bogging down, wet, dry and to top everything off it was full of lots of large moving machinery.

Mercifully we crossed the Racing River and soon were turning into Toad River RV Park.

Onie got us a pull through with water and electric, no sewer as they don’t have any, and we went in, set up and leveled up.

Onie began supper while the driver visited with neighbors.

Rigs, left to right, folks from Alaska (headed home to Wasilla--they don't know

Sarah because I asked--after wintering in Arizona), us from Texas, folks from

Florida and more folks from Texas.

The driver stayed outside and washed the front of the Marlin removing the accumulation of the day’s bugs.

Inside Onie was cooking the smoked pheasant gumbo.

When the washing was done and the gumbo was cooking we relaxed at our picnic table for a few minutes.

Across the road from the camp site was an airport.  It boasted one airplane.

Airport across road from RV.

Supper was finished at nine and we began working on getting week two ready to be posted.  One day was yet to be completed and Onie had to take pictures off the camera, edit the text, insert pictures and do her magic prior to posting.

The writer worked on this little gem.

We retired at eleven.

It was fifty degrees and clear.  It would probably be a cold night.  

GO SOAK YOUR HEAD

Tuesday, June 02, 2009

Up until now the temperatures have remained cool to hot.  Last night it got cold, thirty nine at two thirty.

This morning it was still a cool forty-four at eight when we rose.  At seven thirty we heard our neighbors, from Alaska, pull out.  As we were rising the folks on the other side, from Florida, left.  That left the two Texas rigs.

Onie worked on getting week two ready to post, finishing her editing and placing pictures.  The driver made tea and worked on this narrative.

When Onie was finished with her work she tried to post it to the website but alas, she was unable to connect to the web.  The signal from the hot spot was excellent but no connection was available past that.

Frustrated she began fixing breakfast, bacon, eggs and toast.

Breakfast over, the navigator took her turn in the shower while the driver washed three plates, two knives, two forks, one spatula and one skillet.  He does it so infrequently he has to count the pieces to be sure he gets credit.

Then he took his turn showering.

With both of us dressed we took a little turn around the park.  Onie discovered what she said was the largest beaver lodge she had ever seen

in the middle of a large lake, created by the beaver dam builders.

A bit higher up the stream a competing beaver family had built another dam

but it looked as though tough economic times caught up with them as their lodge was deserted and had fallen into disrepair.

Thus educated in the way of dam builders we headed back to the Marlin where we took in the land lines, upped the jacks and headed back to the dump station where we off loaded all our shower water.

With the coach a few hundred pounds lighter we got back on 97 and headed north, once more, with a steady stream of traffic.

The traffic was mixed with semis and campers but it was the most we had seen since joining the Alcan.

Nearly twenty miles up the road we encountered a shy caribou.  She refused to stand still long enough to be photographed so we left her to be unseen on the world wide web.  She will probably live out her life in anonymity, in the wilds of British Columbia having missed her opportunity for fifteen minutes of fame.

Muncho Lake Provincial Park is large by any standard and it almost always rewards visitors with glimpses of wildlife.  Today was no exception.  A few miles into the park we saw several bighorn sheep grazing by the road.  Seizing on the opportunity for fame, if not fortune, some big males posed for us while we captured their images, digitally.

Moving along we edged past the lake for which the park is named.  It was as beautiful as ever but in a different way.  It was still partially iced in.

We were nearing the north end of the park and our short drive day would be ending almost as soon as we crossed the mighty Liard River. Coasting down to its expansive valley we admired the trees that filled the basin and the cliffs on the far side of the river.

Across the river and yet half a mile further and we turned into Liard Hot Springs Park.  After putting the Marlin on the day use parking lot we walked back to check in.

Then we crossed the road for a healthy afternoon snack, hot wings, French fries and poutine.  For those who would be quick to chide us on our food selection let it be pointed out that we both drank two tall glasses of water.  In addition we had walked, a quarter mile to get to the café and walked a mile, taking the long way, to get back to the coach.

While we were at the cafe a young lady in fire fighters uniform came in and ordered some food to go.  She was taking it to a fire crew twenty miles north of here.  They were battling a controlled burn that was no longer controlled.  On our walk back we could see the smoke pluming over the mountains. 

In the heat of the afternoon, eighty-eight at two thirty, Onie lay down for a nap while the writer changed into his bathing suit and typed this epic story.

We had driven seventy one miles today.

When Onie woke we would walk another half mile to the hot springs where we would soak our bodies that have been so poorly treated by our birthdays.

Walking to the hot springs we noticed a few things, one--some of the board walk had been rebuilt, second--the warm water that usually covered most of the ground between the camping area and the springs was gone, a few boggy places remained and a small stream of warm water that supports a strain of Creek Chubb still flowed, third--the Canadian geese were more numerous than before, obviously a threat to homeland security even here in Canada.  Please notify Canadian Homeland Security.  Other things were different too but these caught our attention first.

At the springs we found the water very warm, almost too hot to enter.  Warm days like today fail to cool the water.  When the air is cold the water cools somewhat and is delightful. 

A gentleman who had moved to Canada, from Connecticut, thirty years before, mentioned that the road north was now closed due to the fire now burning out of control.  When it would reopen remained unclear.

We did manage to enter an area usually reserved for kids and old folks where the writer sat under a small waterfall and soaked his head.  Onie sat nearby.  Later, accustomed to the hotter water, we moved to our regular area before getting out and drying off.

Walking back we could see a first time event, for us.  The sun, still high in the sky, was a red ball, shining through the smoke of the forest fire.  It made a pretty, if unusual, picture.

Tiny red dot in the smoke cloud is very hot sun.

Back at the coach it was the driver’s turn to nap while Onie read and snacked on Aunt Patty’s homemade salsa.  When the writer woke he joined in the snacking.

Looking outside one could see the parking lot was full of RVs.  It ws entirely possible that they had been turned back from their trip north due to the fire.  The sun, now lower, still shown red but now through the tree tops.

The bright HOT sun a little later in the day.

 The air was cooling off and it was nearing nine o’clock so Onie made us a nice salad.  When it was eaten we were both full having had our fair share of chips and salsa.

While Onie brushed her teeth the writer finished off these notes.  He had been pecking away, intermittently, all day.

The notes finished he brushed his teeth and joined Onie.  Lord willing they would both get a restful night’s sleep.

We would have to wait until tomorrow to see if our journey north would be delayed.

CONTINENTAL DIVIDE

Wednesday, June 03, 2009

When we woke at eight it was forty four, cool but not cold.

We had some hot tea and a few grapes, donned our swim suits and headed off for a morning dip in the therapeutic waters of the hot springs.

In the water we met Ellie and Nathan from Dunnville, Ontario.  We could tell from their conversation that they are dyed in the wool conservatives.  We also met a man and his wife from Prescott, Arizona who were in love with Obama.  When asked about his doubling the national debt in his first one hundred days in office they just shrugged their shoulders as if to say, “that means nothing”.  After all he said, “we won’t have to pay for it”.  To myself I said, spoken like a true liberal.  The writer is concerned that his unborn great grand children will end up paying for this folly.  With that thought all the tension that had been washed away by the hot spring water returned.

We climbed out of the springs and headed back to the coach where we enjoyed frosted Mini-Wheats and blueberries.  Son, Gary, would be proud to know we ate the cereal with rice milk instead of a dairy product.

Ellie and Nathan came by to get our website address.  It is their first trip to Alaska and they want to mine the website for information about where we have been and what we have done.  Onie herself is a virtual goldmine when it comes to information about where to go and what to do in Alaska and she had been giving Ellie lots of good details but they seemed to think the website might hold some small bit of information that Onie had overlooked.  The writer told them they could waste the rest of their summer looking for something Onie had overlooked.

On the road again at eleven-ten we headed north and ten miles in that direction we saw our first bison of the trip.  Two large bulls, one standing and one lying, near the edge of the woods.  We were on them before we had time to stop so no pictures were made.  A short piece down the road we, being more watchful, slowed to a stop and took pictures of several bison, grazing close to the road. They were in the process of losing their winter coats.

Bison losing their winter coat.

Black bears have been in abundance this year and Onie has managed to capture more than one, in the camera.  This afternoon she saw six and was able to get pictures of a sow and her two cubs as they enjoyed a roadside snack.

Mama bear and her cubs.

The smoke that had filled the air in and over the campground yesterday afternoon and evening had come from the area we were now headed into.  The fire had raged out of control for a while and had even jumped the road in one or two places, necessitating the road closure.  The road was open now but the damage done by the fire was very evident.

Burn on both sides and lots of smoke.

The fire was long gone but it seemed the heat lingered on and in fact we did see a few hot spots where embers smoldered or downed trees still flamed.

With the visual stimulation as well as just feeling plain hot we ran the dash air, again.  Few days, if any, have passed when we haven’t felt the need to be cooled by this little unit of comfort.

It didn’t seem quite right to us that the roadside should hold pockets of snow and deep in the woods was even more while out here on the open road it was hot, but that was the case.

The Cummins and Allison pushed up the long grades into the continental divide and then let us coast four miles down the far side to Swift River and the nice gravel turnout there.

At four thirty we turned off the road and onto the gravel.

Even with snow laying all about it was still eighty five.  That didn’t deter Onie and the driver from donning tennis shoes and setting out for a walk on the Old Alcan.  We had walked here last year and enjoyed it.  We would enjoy it again.  An hour later and much warmer we returned to the coach.

There we met Doug, our neighbor for the evening and night.  He invited us to a campfire, after supper, when the wind died.

Later Ellie and Nathan pulled in and parked close to the road and the river.  They came over to say hi and visit a bit.  The gravel pit was filling up.

Lots of elbow room here!

View from bedroom window.

Supper isn’t supper without a salad and the navigator usually comes through with a great one.  This evening was no exception.  Pheasant stew was the main and filling course.

The wind dropped around eight thirty.  We got a couple of chairs from the basement and joined Doug and his wife, Brenda, at the fir pit in front of their rig.  The fire was already burning brightly and giving out some heat.  We sat back away from the fire.  A young man, migrating from Redding, California to Fairbanks, Alaska with his girlfriend, Allison, joined the four of us.

Jordan, Brenda, Doug, and Tom enjoying the campfire.

As the evening wore away and the temperature dropped we talked about cars, pickups and diesel engines, neither Doug nor Jordan cared for Volkswagen or Mercedes diesels as they are too finicky and expensive to work on.  When the ladies went to bed around ten thirty talk turned to hunting, fishing and finally politics.  The three of us agreed that the U.S. is in a mess and may not get out of it as a world leader, as Pelosi and gang drag us down, but may end up as a second or third rate power, aka France.

Jordan, sitting on a stool, rolling a cigarette, said he was leaving California because it has been taken over by fringe politics and the tail is wagging the dog.  In addition there are so many illegals that citizens are unable to access government services since government employees are instructed to give preference to the illegals.  He said he experienced this first hand when he had a severe injury and needed government assistance and rehabilitation.  A government worker told him if he was an illegal he would be treated first and without question but since he was a citizen it took six months to complete the paperwork to receive the benefits.  He is fed up with bureaucracy and wants to live were he can feel free and unfettered by government.  He thinks Alaska is the place to be.

By eleven thirty the temp had dropped to forty eight.  With just a pair of jeans, topsiders, no socks, a tee shirt and shirt jacket on, the driver had become numb, to the bone.  He bid Doug and Jordan a good night and headed for the Marlin.

HIKING IN WHITEHORSE

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Last night we slept under blankets with a temperature of forty eight making us very comfortable.  When we rose at seven it hadn’t changed.

We started the tea and Onie fixed steel cut oats with the usual trimmings.  While the oats were cooking the driver stepped outside to take a picture of the rigs in camp.

After breakfast Nathan and Ellie came by on their way out, stopped for a chat and were on their way.

While we were out visiting with them Doug came over to say he had really enjoyed last evening and hoped to see us on the road, again.  We assured him the feeling was mutual.  While we were visiting Jordan came by and asked if we had seen a Siamese cat.  Allison’s pet had disappeared and he assumed it had come outside.  Being a house cat he felt it had little chance of survival if it wasn’t found.  We helped him look until Allison called from the door of their camper to say the cat had been found, in a closet.  They were soon buttoned up and on their way, too, waving as they eased out and toward the road.

Doug and Brenda were next out and we soon followed them.  The gravel pullout was empty but we figured by nightfall it would have new visitors.

We had been awake two and a half hours when the Cummins began pushing us across Swift River and up the hill.  The drive was easy now as the road surface remained good.

The navigator had lost her job at Dawson Creek since once we are on the Alcan there is no place to go except Alaska.  Oh sure, one could take any one of the dirt or gravel roads that lead to some adventure and if we ever make the trip in the truck or toad we will most likely follow one or more of those inviting byways but as long as we make the trip in the coach we will be staying on the pavement, as much s possible.  Having lost her job as navigator, Onie pretty much became the official photographer of the trip.  She always had the camera close at hand to catch any animal or great scene we encountered.

Whitehorse has grown a lot since we last pulled off the highway and ventured into downtown as we did today.  Without me saying so you know we headed for Wal-Mart.  After all they have big parking lots and a very friendly to RVers.

Whitehorse has turned into a regular urban area with traffic, noise, litter and graffiti.

In Wal-Mart we continued an ongoing search for plastic covers for the headlights on the coach.  Wal-Mart didn’t have any and directed us to Canadian Tire, just next door.  Before leaving Wal-Mart though we had to leave some money behind so we wound up with four new DVD’s plus a bag of organic chips.

We struck out at Canadian Tire on the headlight covers but they instructed us to try a parts house just a couple of blocks away.  Canadian blocks are like the provinces and territories, big.

The parts house didn’t have what we were looking for but directed us to a NAPA store.  We walked on, in the heat, through an alley, Onie didn’t like it as the walls had been spray painted by various scoundrels and ner-do-wells, to the store.  Inside it was cooler but they didn’t have the parts, either.  In fact, they told us the plastic headlight covers had been outlawed in Canada as well as the wire mesh variety.

The search was over but we had wandered quite a distance on our trek.

Hot and tired we were back in the coach and on the road again at three thirty.

The road stretched out in front of us, smooth, winding and hilly, inviting us to continue our venture northward.

Kilometer marker 1510 was reached at four o’clock and we pulled over for a couple of quick pictures.

Looks a little dusty!

The navigator.

The driver.

Many coaches end their years without ever making it out of the lower forty eight and the vast majority of them never see the miles and terrain the Marlin has journeyed.  The stop was to record the first one hundred thousand miles.

As if to reward the coach the good road held into Haines Junction and forty two miles past to Kluane Lake.  Here we found more construction but it was very near the end, the blasting and rock removal was done and it seemed it only needed paving to be complete.  Coming back this should be a wonderful stretch of road, scenic and smooth.

Outside our slow moving jostling windows,  Kluane was beautiful but in a different sort of way, most of the time we see her beautiful unbelievably blue water.  Today she was mostly clothed in ice, more than we have ever seen, with a blanket of snow.

Beautiul Kluane Lake still frozen from a harsh winter. First time we've ever

seen this much ice there.

The Marlin endured the dust and wet, intermittent, as we slowly navigated our way around Destruction Bay.

Our patience rewarded us as we at last reached the pavement again.  This area is one we have crept over in years past as it underwent the transformation that is now taking place on the road just traveled.

We passed a pullout where we stayed last year on the way out but it was too early to stop so we motored on soon reaching Burwash and then leaving it behind.  If one blinks as they get to Burwash they will miss it entirely.

The road surface was still moderately good and permitted the driver to watch for animals while the photographer studied her books to find a place further up the road for the night’s stop.

Suddenly a small animal darted in front of the coach and made it safely across before disappearing into the grassy growth in the ditch.  It was a chipmunk.  So far it was our only animal spotting of the day and the day was growing long.

With the appearance of the chipmunk came the first of the serious frost heaves.  Our speed was now reduced to fifteen to thirty five miles an hour depending on the severity of the road disruption.  Added to the continuous disruptions was now added construction with attendant extreme dusty conditions followed by more frost heaves and then followed by a black bear sighting by the photographer.

With the driver growing weary and hungry he announced his desire for two things, rest and food.  Onie had located a highly recommended rv park that was said to have a beautiful setting as well as full hookups.  It sounded like a nice place to spend the night.  We crossed the White River and slowed to make our stop for the night.  Alas and alack, the park had succumbed to the economic malaise that has claimed so many of the businesses on this highway.  With the entry blocked we couldn’t even pull in to bondock so we journeyed on.  We were once again reminded, at the end of the day, that over half the businesses that were open three years ago are now closed and our books listing the businesses will have to be replaced lest we continue to try to stay at places that no longer are.

A bit further up the road we turned into a large pullout but found it too un-level to permit putting out the bedroom slide.  Sill further we traveled for ten more miles to yet another pullout.  Mercifully it was large and somewhat level.  We leveled up, put out the slide, stopped the Cummins and Onie began preparing our evening meal.  It was ten.

Snacks and a salad were soon on the table.  They satisfied us and we got ready for bed.  It was midnight and seventy seven outside but with the low humidity and gentle breeze that wafted through the Marlin it was cool enough to doze right off.

We had spent ten and a half hours driving and quite sometime wandering, on foot, through Whitehorse, but day had brought us four hundred thirty six miles closer to Castaway.

BACK IN THE U.S.A.

Friday, June 5, 2009

Sixty three degrees greeted us when we rose at eight.  The partly cloudy sky was an indication that it wouldn’t be much warmer very soon.  We were happy with that.  The cool night had enabled us to have a good night’s sleep.

Pheasant gumbo for breakfast with hot tea was a hit.

The writer caught up on his notes while Onie was in the bathroom doing her thing.  Then it was my turn before taking out the trash and getting ready for the road.

With the morning walk about concluded the engine was started, allowed to warm a little and then we were on the road, once again.

That road we were on was very rough with frost heaves and pavement breaks being a constant.  This allowed the photographer to look for the animals which weren’t there.

At noon the coach rolled to a stop at U.S. Customs.  We had crossed the border a few miles earlier.  The young customs officer with a shaved head and tattooed arm was very pleasant.  He took our passports, asked a few questions and wished us a good summer.  We were back in the U.S.A.

The road promptly improved, as one would hope, and we gained another hour.  That was a total of three and still the writer hadn’t been able to locate the first one.  Magically, it was eleven.

A few miles down the road we pulled into a fuel stop at Border City.  Yep, there is such a place.  Fuel here as more expensive than in Canada which meant it was more expensive than any we had bought, to date, three sixty-eight a gallon.  We didn’t fill up.  We bought forty gallons, enough to see us safely into Anchorage, and headed for Tok.

The good road lay before us and trumpeter swans and snow geese dotted the ponds and lakes beside us.  In the distance were the Chugach Mountains. We were in a less densely populated area now and Onie saw a moose and shortly thereafter a cow moose and her two calves.

The road work we had endured in this area last year on the way home was over and was paying big dividends for us now.  We glided along on a piece of seamless asphalt with very few imperfections.

In Tok we paused long enough to send text messages to the family to apprise them of our safe arrival and let them know we would call later.

The Tok Cutoff road was improved a couple of years ago and has weathered winters quite well, still being in very good shape, smooth as well as no pavement breaks.  The improvements were made on the first thirty miles of road, heading toward Anchorage.  No work has been done since and once the thirty miles has passed under the wheels and tires the smooth easy drive is over for quite some time.

Our previous speed of fifty nine miles an hour suddenly dropped to fifteen to thirty as we encountered frost heaves and pavement breaks, to numerous to count.  The good news was we had enjoyed the smooth ride.  The bad news was we knew we had at least a hundred miles of bad road, ahead.

On the other hand it gave Onie a better chance to spot animals.  She saw none but did see a few geese, Canadians and Snows.

The road got worse at Glen Allen and rain began falling.  Our high temp of seventy nine quickly fell into the low seventies.  On occasion the bad roadway gave way to a short stretch of better road before returning to the tortuous surface of before.

The navigator had located a park with full service where we could spend the night before heading on and we arrived there at six.  We had called ahead from Tok and gotten their last available pull through that included sewer.  We both looked forward to long showers at Grand View RV Park in Glacier View, AK.

After we were set up Onie checked in on the Wi-Fi, ordered a pizza and set off to wash all our dirty clothes, two weeks worth.

The writer was far behind on his notes and scribbling so he elected to do some of that, after checking his email.

The pizza was delivered to the coach where Onie and I ate our fill and put the rest away for another time.

Onie headed back to the laundry, at ten thirty, to fetch our clothes while yours truly pecked away.

Upon her return we made the bed, fresh clean sheets!

Outside there was still lot of daylight, it was eleven and a nice sixty-four degrees.

We stepped out of the coach to enjoy a beautiful sunset and get some pictures.

Easterly direction here.

Looking to the west.

Back inside a few more notes were made and the story on Wednesday was finished. 

Onie turned in.

The writer went back on the web and then played a few games until one thirty.

D DAY

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Lest we forget we live in the land of the free because of the brave, both living and dead.  Years ago on a beach unknown to most of the world thousands of young men, some just boys, swarmed out of landing craft and tried to reach the shore.  Many died in the water.  Many more died on the sand and yet more died on the fields adjoining the beach.  In other happier times young men of the same age had frolicked on this same beach with young paramours, planned their future and held high hopes.  On D Day the men and boys on the beach weren’t frolicking, had no paramours with them but probably thought about loved ones left behind, planned on how to take the high ground and hoped to survive and it was all so we could continue to live free.

 Many more men and women have given up their futures and lives and continue to do so today so we can continue to live free.  We need to do our part at home and honor these sacrifices by being ever vigilant of those rights.  We should not let the memory and honor of these brave souls, both men and women, be besmirched by those who would steal our freedoms through onerous laws or skullduggery.  Remember that we are free because others have been brave to the point of death.  Take your freedom seriously and guard it rigorously.

There was no beach for us when we rose but the river still ran close by and our friends were all around us in camp.  It was eight thirty.     

We checked our email and then looked at web news before starting the liberty toast, tea, bacon and a cup of coffee for Onie.

June sixth is special to us in another way, too.  Our grandson Ryan turns eighteen today.  We can’t be with him but we did call his cell phone and serenaded him with “Happy Birthday”.  We hope he lives a long happy fruitful life.

I think Ryan was 16 here. He plays football now so his hair is short.

Don't know what happened to the iguana.

With breakfast over we put up the rest of clean clothes from last night and then Onie cleaned a bit and the writer became the trash man and took out the trash.

While he was outside he emptied the holding tanks and replenished the fresh water supply.

Inside Onie was getting the Marlin ready for another day of travel while the driver finished his outside duties by disconnecting and storing the land lines.

The tires on the Marlin rolled onto the pavement at a quarter of twelve.  We were on the road again.

Eight miles closer to Castaway we stopped, for construction.  The sign said expect a forty five minute delay.  The work here has been going on for years as the road is straightened and widened.  It is amazing how much has been done, blasting and removing entire sides of mountains to make the road safer if not so scenic.

We were more fortunate than some and at twelve twenty five the pilot car turned aside and we were facing open road again.

A quick stop was made at a turnout to take another picture of  Matanuska glacier.

Matanuska glacier.

The road was windy and hilly but the recently laid surface was good and held all the way to Palmer.

From there it was a straight shot to the freeway and then to Anchorage.

Off the freeway and on Muldoon we arrived at Fred Meyer’s at half past two. 

Inside we reacquainted ourselves with the store as we shopped for groceries and RV needs before checking out and heading for the coffee kiosk where we go a latte and Chai tea.

Back at the Marlin, parked curbside, we stored our purchases and then headed for the fuel bar where the diesel was three nineteen after a ten cent discount for shopping at Freddie’s.

We went back to curbside, parked and locked the coach and walked a short distance to a little Mexican food shop were we each had a one pound burrito.  If you have never experienced a one pound burrito let me just say that that is a lot of burrito.

We joined the traffic flow at five thirty.  Muldoon is under construction so we detoured by way of Northern Lights making our way, through heavy traffic, up to the new Seward highway where we turned left and headed for the road around Cook Inlet.

Riding around the inlet, after some watching, the navigator determined that the tide was coming in.  It took a while to make the determination as the wind was blowing quite briskly and the water surface was more troubled than usual.

The wind followed us to Portage, where we got a glimpse of the glacier, and then pushed us on toward Turnagin Pass where we stopped at six thirty.

The new movies we had purchased some time before were placed in the folder with our other movies.

While dusting Onie discovered the front cabinet, over the dash, had dropped down about a quarter inch.  A little inspection revealed that six trips up the bumpy Alcan had caused a screw to partially strip out.  An hour and a half later both driver and navigator were convinced that the temporary repairs that had been done would hold until we got to camp where more and better tools would be available.  They did.

Warmed up pizza chased away our hunger and then Onie played a few computer games while the writer made some notes.  It was nine o’clock.

Outside it was cool and clear, at fifty six degrees.  Our view out the front of the coach was nothing less than spectacular.

Turnigin Pass, close to our summer home just a few miles south of Anchorage.

We cued up one of our new movies, a romantic comedy, Woman On Top.

At midnight we turned off the DVD player and went to sleep.

CASTAWAY

Sunday, June 07, 2009

We slept until nine when the sixty four degree temp woke us.

We ran the generator and fixed the tea while the buckwheat groats cooked.

Later we took quick showers and I made a few notes of the previous day’s events.

We were traveling by ten thirty, stopped at Cooper Landing at one for a latte and Chai tea before heading on to Sterling and then Noble Car Wash where we arrived at three.

The car cover on the toad got our attention first and we washed it and pulled the car into the sun to dry the cover.  Next we turned our attention to the Marlin.  An hour and a half and several dollars later she was much cleaner than she had been since leaving home.  Now we went back to the Subaru, removed the car cover and washed the car, itself.  While washing the vehicles we agreed that we had accumulated less dirt this trip up than any other.

When we were almost done with the Subaru the owner’s wife came out and talked about how bad the economy is and the price of fuel is killing everyone, her words.  She loves Obama and thinks perhaps he should be nationalize the oil companies and other big corporations as has Hugo Chavez.  If this is the mindset of most Obama backers, and she says it is, then America and freedom is in deep trouble.

We were finished with her and the vehicle washing at four, cranked up and headed toward Castaway, me in the coach and Onie driving her newly washed car.

Our arrival at four-twenty was greeted by Krista, one and the same as Christa, I have just been misspelling her name, Barbara, Chuck, Don, Julie and LaVon.  Kurt and Sidney were up on the hill working on Kurt’s new house.

We stopped to drain the gray water holding tank before moving into our space, with Onie directing, number seven, at five.

Sidney and Kurt came down the hill and they along with Don pitched in to help us hook up the power, fill the fresh water tank, get out the jack pads, place them, level up, unload the onions and get out the slides.

Don put up screws in our shed and the bags of vidalia onions from Vidalia, Georgia (gift from Barbara and Sidney) were hung to wait for use by whoever in camp needs them.

Don peering out from behind bags of onions.

Julie, Tom, and Sidney helped hang the bags.

At last we were in our summer home.  There were still things to be done but we felt we could relax with our friends and let some things wait for another day.

Supper was served at seven thirty, at Kurt’s, Steak Oscar and Salad.  Kurt, Krista, Joel, Julie, Don, Sidney, Barbara and us enjoyed the meal and hospitality.  Later a campfire was lit and Norman and Chris joined us.  A lively discussion revolving around health cost ensued.

The encroaching cold drove Onie home at ten thirty, the writer hung on until twelve when he too succumbed to the cold and went to the coach.

Before retiring he made notes of the events of the day and noted the temp, fifty two at one.  It promised to be colder as the sky was crystal clear.