crossing the border

Pulling up to the window, we were hopeful that leaving Canada would prove to be less bizarre than entering was.  At first, we had reason for optimism.  Again we showed our IDs and told them about Rick driving our truck with the animals.  With a big smile on his face and without any questions about pepper spray, he told us, “No problem! Welcome to Alaska!” and we were waved through.  We pulled forward and waited for Rick to be waved on.  We waited and watched in the rear view mirrors.  We waited some more.  Then we saw Rick emerging from the truck.  Parking the U-Haul, we began to walk back toward the truck to see what was going on.  “Step away from the vehicle!!” barked the customs guy.  Oh great, here we go again.  Mr. Customs walked around the truck and made a move to go in the back—a move Inu, the 130 pound sled dog didn’t take kindly to.  He made his displeasure known in a series of loud and rather unpleasant sounding barks.  Mr. Customs jumped away from the vehicle and decided that showing how tough he was wasn’t that important after all.  He decided that Rick was free to go.  He drove over to where we had the U-Haul parked and told us that the guy was all smiles until Rick actually pulled up to the window.  When he actually saw Rick, who is of Mexican descent, the smiles evaporated.  He demanded to see his license so he could run a check on him.  He accused him of kidnapping his son (the letter from Kevin’s mother was rapidly produced).  He wanted to search Rick’s suitcase, though he was uninterested in Kevin’s.  Later, Kevin observed that, “He treated my dad like that because he has dark skin.”  Welcome to the United States.

Now we were all feeling angry and depressed, but we got back into the trucks and proceeded northwest.  We came upon Northway—a little town with a garage that fixes U-Hauls.  We decided to stop there and have the tire looked at. While we waited, we had lunch in the adjoining restaurant, saving our bread for another time.  After about an hour and a half, we got the verdict on the tire—ignore it and keep driving.  The truck would have to be taken to Fairbanks to be fixed anyway, as it had a bent axle.  The guy said he saw them all the time and there would be no problem.  Hoping the guy was right, we got back on the Alaska Highway.  Fairbanks seemed within reach now.  It was getting closer.

    We had one more incident to remember on our last day on the road—or at least Rick did!  We were driving through a stretch of road that was all torn up and covered in gravel.  there was no pilot car, though there were plenty of “no passing” signs.  We learned quickly that many Alaskans feel that any sort of rule does not apply to them, as some clown decided to pass Rick.  He was kicking up lots of dust and Rick went to roll up his window.  No sooner was the window up than a rock flew up and shattered it!  If he had been a little slower, it would have hit him in the head!  He was not hurt, however, so on we drove.

We finally limped into town on a bent axle and a tire that was so bald in some spots that wire was showing through.  Our truck had no driver’s side window and a cracked windshield.  But we had made it.  The realtor had left a bunch of keys and as Bill tried each one, Inu barked furiously at his own reflection in the double-paned windows.  He finally found the right key and we were in!!  What a relief!  There was still a U-Haul to be unloaded and many boxes to unpack.  There were truck windows to be fixed and furniture had to be moved around.  But all of that could wait for another day.  Just then it was enough to revel in the fact that we were home! 

rest time

Inu taking a rest from being in the truck

As it turned out, our hard-found loaf of bread was unnecessary.  Our first clue that we were not out of the woods came at a stop for road construction where we were first in line.  The girl holding the stop sign came up to the window to tell us how long we’d have to wait for the pilot car.  Then she saw the tire.  “Ooooh, that doesn’t look good,” she informed us, “I’d get that fixed in Tok if I were you.  I don’t even think you’ll make it over the big rocks ahead.”  Unsure how we were supposed to get the tire fixed in Tok when we were not even going to make it out of the construction zone, my response was to put my head against the seat back and begin to cry.  Meanwhile, the cheerful stop sign girl had gone back to warn Rick that he should stay well behind us because clearly that tire was going to explode and send us careening off the road.  If he didn’t want to go with us, he should keep his distance!

  The pilot car came; we drove through the construction zone; and we were soon back on paved road.  The tire did not explode and we did not go flying over the embankment.  Maybe we’d make it to Tok after all!  Before we could get there, of course, we’d have to endure another border crossing, though.

The text is written by Shari and the photos were taken by me

on the road

stuck behind the truck on the road leading to Alaska

Sign Post Forest is a collection of signs at Watson Lake, Yukon and is one of the most famous of the landmarks along the Alaska Highway. It was started by a homesick GI in 1942. He was assigned light duty while recovering from an injury and erected the signpost for his hometown: Danville, Ill. 2835 miles. Visitors may add their own signs to the over 80,000 already present.

Chetwynd, British Columbia

Finally, the last day of our journey arrived!  We were all pretty excited as we got ready to leave the cabins we had stayed in.  They were really nice little places on the edge of a beautiful lake.  And we had stopped asking about the dog after Wonowon and just brought him inside, so he was well rested, too.  The one dark cloud was one of the tires on the U-Haul, which was looking pretty worn, but since there was nothing we could do about it, we just got ready to leave. 

    Our first stop was at a general store a few miles down the road.  It occupied half of a building with a truck/car/RV repair shop in the other half.  We wanted to pick up a few things, but mainly some bread for lunch.  Walking around the store, we looked in vain for the bread.  Nothing.  We tried again—a general store would surely have bread, we thought, but we weren’t seeing any.  Suddenly, Helen pointed toward the freezer case—“there’s some!”  Bill pounced on it, and searched in vain for a price tag.  He brought it up to the counter and asked how much it was.  Once again we got that wide-eyed response from this clerk, “ I can’t sell that,” he said nervously, jerking his head back toward the repair shop,  “they’ll kill me if I sell you that!”   Bill put the loaf back in the freezer case.  As he turned around, he spotted another loaf in a case across the store.  “What about that one,” he asked.  The guy behind the counter shook his head, “I can’t; they’ll kill me.”  Exasperated, Bill asked, “Is there any place between here and Fairbanks where I can buy a loaf of bread?”  The boy thought for a minute and then his face brightened“ Annie down the road bakes bread,” he said happily.  Then his face fell a little.  “I don’t know if she sells it, though.  But you could ask.”  I was dumbstruck as I stood there thinking, “Yup, that’s what we’ll do.  We’ll track Annie down and see if she’s baked any bread lately.  If she has we’ll see if she’ll sell us some.”  The whole conversation was clearly pointless, so we bought a couple of things and left.  A couple of hours down the road we stopped at another store.  Bill went in and after a few minutes he emerged victorious holding the loaf of bread high above his head!  We would be able to have lunch!

The text is written by Shari and the photos were taken by me

on the way to wonowon

 one of our stops along the way

By day three, our plan was to make it to Wonowon, British Columbia.  We drove into town and pulled into a parking lot that was one big mud puddle.  Bill went into the motel to get a couple of rooms, but none were available.  He was advised to try the new place down the road.  We walked into the office—it looked pretty nice—and inquired.  There were rooms.  We said we’d take two and asked if we could take the dog in.  The young clerk’s eyes got wide.  “Oh no,” she said, “she’d kill me if I let a dog in there.”  Well, OK, death was a pretty serious consequence and we figured Inu would probably be OK sleeping in the truck, which we were able to park right outside the room.  We had wanted a kitchenette, but they had none, so after unloading what we needed and walking the dog, we headed for the motel restaurant. 

Looking over the menu, I noticed that as a vegetarian, I was not going to have much to choose from.  As it turned out, there wasn’t much for anyone to choose from.  Someone ordered chocolate milk.  “We don’t have any,” came the reply.  Helen wanted pizza.  “We’re all out.”  “Grilled cheese?” I asked hopefully?  “We don’t have any of that, either.”  This was getting ridiculous.  “Maybe,” I suggested, “it would be easier for you to tell us what you DO have.”

  After a rather unappetizing dinner of onion rings, I went back to the room with Helen while the guys went to the grocery store across the street in an effort to find some fresh veggies for salad or some fruit or something.  They came back with some candy bars.  The fresh produce was rotten, and had those little fruit flies flying around.  YUM!

    We all met in our room for a little conference.  We agreed that Wonowon was pretty good incentive to push on and get to Alaska as soon as possible.  We decided to drive more each day in an effort to get to Alaska faster.  There would be a few long days ahead, but hopefully no more places like Wonowon!

The text is written by Shari and the photos were taken by me

border crossing

 we are now in Canada, onward toward Alaska.

As we all climbed into the trucks on that sunny afternoon, we certainly felt that the universe was with us.  Sure, we were starting out several hours later than we’d planned, but the weather was nice, the animals were safely in their spots, and we’d managed to fit all of the important things in the U-Haul—with a great deal of rearranging and creative positioning!!

  And so we pulled away from the curb and began our journey into a new life.  Bill was driving the U-Haul, which was being co-piloted by our daughter Helen and myself.  Rick and his son Kevin were in our truck.  We had all the of papers we needed to get the people and animals across the border—identification, a letter of permission from Kevin’s mother, truck registrations, house papers, proof of rabies vaccines, etc.

  We stopped at a rest area for a picnic supper and walked and watered the dog.  We tried to be patient as we sat in traffic trying to get past Seattle.  We stopped just before the border to fill the gas tanks.  Then we hit customs.

As we all climbed into the trucks on that sunny afternoon, we certainly felt that the universe was with us.  Sure, we were starting out several hours later than we’d planned, but the weather was nice, the animals were safely in their spots, and we’d managed to fit all of the important things in the U-Haul—with a great deal of rearranging and creative positioning!!

  And so we pulled away from the curb and began our journey into a new life.  Bill was driving the U-Haul, which was being co-piloted by our daughter Heather and myself.  Rick and his son Kevin were in our truck.  We had all the of papers we needed to get the people and animals across the border—identification, a letter of permission from Kevin’s mother, truck registrations, house papers, proof of rabies vaccines, etc.

We stopped at a rest area for a picnic supper and walked and watered the dogs.  We tried to be patient as we sat in traffic trying to get past Seattle.  We stopped just before the border to fill the gas tanks.  Then we hit customs.

 We pulled up and provided our IDs.  We told the guy in the booth that the truck behind us was ours and that our friend had permission to drive it.  He also had the papers for the animals in the back.  Mr. Customs Official didn’t seem to care much about that, though.  He seemed intently focused on whether any of us in the U-Haul had any pepper spray.  This was unexpected, but we kept a polite demeanor as we repeated our “no” answer over and over again to various forms of the question, “And you don’t have any pepper spray?”  At the point where I was starting to wonder if I had missed an important question somewhere, we were instructed to pull forward, park the U-Haul, and proceed into the customs building.  Rick, Kevin, and all of the animals seemed far less suspicious than we did, apparently, since they were waved through with barely a glance.

 The three of us marched into the building.  I was toting my soft briefcase style bag that had all of our papers.  We were directed to a window where we were asked a series of questions in rapid-fire succession: “where are you going?” “ What are you going to do there?” “You are both going to school?” “How much money do you have?” “ How long will you be in Canada?” To the last question I was tempted to respond that while I wasn’t even in Canada yet, I had high hopes that my stay would be a very short one.  I held my tongue instead.  I responded that we would be in Canada only as long as it took to get through it and into Alaska.  This was apparently a satisfactory answer, because we were directed to another window on the other side of the building where, astonishingly, we got to start all over with the same questions!  I began to consider the possibility that we had entered the twilight zone or were on Candid Camera.  When I thought I would not be able to contain my irritation any longer, our third interrogation came to an end and we were allowed to leave.  We were not quite finished yet, however.

 Outside examining the U-Haul was yet another friendly customs agent.  He instructed Bill to open the back of the truck and me to “step back on the curb, ma’am.”  As Bill slid the door up, we were hoping that our precariously piled up belongings would not come crashing down on the guy’s head.  Who knows how long we’d have to stay then!    Fortunately, things were wedged so tightly in there that no shifting had occurred and everything stayed where it was.  Mr. Customs picked up a few things and looked them over.  He turned to Bill.  “I could take this whole thing apart, you know—take everything out of here,” he said.  “I know you could,” Bill replied wearily.  I stood there silently on the curb thinking, “Aren’t you a big, tough asshole.”  Mr. Customs looked at me.  “Do you have any pepper spray?” he asked.  Not trusting myself to open my mouth, I simply shook my head, leaving Bill to answer with yet another “no.”  After peering at us for a minute and considering whether he had asserted enough authority, he said, “Welcome to Canada.  Enjoy your stay.”  Oh yeah, great to be here!

We climbed back into the U-Haul only to discover that they had searched Helen’s backpack.  We buckled up quickly and took off before they could change their minds and decide to tear everything apart in a hunt for that elusive pepper spray.     

  Thankful to be past that hurdle, we decided that since it was starting to get dark, we would look for a place to stop for the night.  We had no luck so after a couple more hours; we decided to simply stop at the next rest area.  Naturally, none of those appeared right away, either.  After what seemed like an eternity, we finally spotted a place.  We got as comfortable as we could—Bill and Inu (the dog) were on the ground behind the U-Haul, while Helen and I slept in the cab.  Rick and Kevin slept in our truck.  It wasn’t ideal, but at least we got some sleep and we were back on the road bright and early the next morning.

The text is written by Shari and the photos were taken by me

ready to go

our loaded U-haul truck  in Portland, Oregon ready to go.

People thought we were nuts.  My sister-in-law’s response upon learning that we were moving to Alaska was, “Why?”  “Why not,” my husband Bill replied.  Now that we were packed up and heading out, that “why not” attitude was stronger than ever.  And indeed, it did seem as though a force was helping us along beyond our control.  It felt right to be going to Alaska.  It was clearly what we were supposed to do.  Everything fell into place far too easily for us to think otherwise.

    We had sold our house in a matter of days to a guy who paid cash and agreed to let us stay in the house rent-free for a month and a half after the sale.  With the money from the sale of that house, we were able to take a trip to Fairbanks to look for a place to live.  We found a house within a couple of days.  The seller was willing to finance, so even though we had no jobs, we had a house, and we knew we could live off of the money from the sale of our Portland house until we had other income.

    When we got back to Portland, we needed to get a cap for the back of our truck so we could transport our animals.  A friend said her boyfriend had one he wanted to get rid of.  She called him and asked what kind of a truck it would fit.  “Ford Ranger,” he said.  In a daze, I made plans to bring the pizza and beer on an upcoming Friday night.  We had a nice visit while Bill and Randy put the cap on the back of our truck.  We had also brought some floor tiles that we had bought for our house but never used.  Randy was doing some home remodeling and they turned out to be just what he needed.  It was serendipity all around.

   Now one last task remained.  We had to find a way to get our stuff from Portland to Alaska.  Moving companies gave us an estimate of $7000!  Ouch!  We wouldn’t have much room in our truck because our three cats and 130-pound dog would take up that space.  We threw around the idea of renting a U-Haul, but I am a nervous driver and in any case, never learned to drive a stick shift, so there was no way I’d be able to drive our truck.  And frankly, the thought of sitting behind the wheel of a bigger truck terrified me—and probably Bill, too!  

    Once again, our dilemma was solved quickly and unexpectedly.  A friend came to visit and told us he’d been laid off work for the summer, but he was feeling OK about it.  Even though money would be tight, he’d get to spend the summer with his 11-year-old son.  “How would you like to take him on a trip to Alaska?” we asked.  His eyes grew wide as he asked if we were kidding.  “No,” we replied, “you can help with the driving and we’ll buy both of you a ticket to fly home from Alaska.  You can take your son on a cool trip and we can save several thousand dollars.  Everybody wins!”  The next day he called with the news that his ex-wife had given permission for the trip.  We were all set.

The text is written by Shari and the photos were taken by me.

alaska collage

a collage that I created for a cover of a cd.  The contents of the cd will be part of this blog and you'll see bigger photos of these when they are posted.  Enjoy!!