Going and coming

It was with some real regret that I tore myself away from Dawson City. It had been a lovely stay, but the music festival was coming, and I really did not want to get caught up in that craziness. They'd been setting up the gaily striped tents in Centennial Park near the hospital (good thing, I guess, to be close if anyone needed medical attention) for almost a week.

But Alaska was calling, and it would be good to get back across the border and be able to use my phone again for house matters.

Waiting for the Dawson City ferry across the Yukon

Fog, rain and potholes on the Top of the World Highway

Top of the World Highway

Coming this route (the Klondike loop instead of direct on the Alaska Highway) was a sort of spur-of-the-moment decision a few weeks ago. I had thought to loop around this way on my way back, but the road closes after Labor Day, so (if I stayed that long), I wouldn't have been able to make it.

The Top of the World Highway is supposed to be very scenic and unique.

Well, I had a sense that it was, but it was raining.

Views were... tantalizing

And when it wasn't raining, it was foggy.

So, oh dear oh dear, I'm probably going to have to come back again, because I saw very little of the actual fabled views.

The skinny black spruce trees loomed out of the fog like disembodied specters; the few flowers were bending over, laden with raindrops; and the best thing that can be said was that it wasn't windy.

The clouds would occasionally lift, and when this happened, I could relax a little bit. But then when it socked in again, there was a tenseness to the driving, peering through the fog for oncoming cars (fortunately very few of them) and potholes (unfortunately lots of them).

N0MAD at the Top of the World

Alaska at last

I wasn't quite as nervous about this border crossing into the US as I was about the border crossing into Canada almost two months ago.

During my extended stay in Dawson City, I'd eaten most of the perishable foods and purposely not purchased anything else. No eggs, no milk, no meats, no vegetables, no liquor.

So I felt pretty confident that things would go smoothly.

The border control station does feel like it's at the ends of the earth.

The burly customs officer commented on my license plate (everyone I've met loves it); asked me the standard few questions, asked if I had anything to declare (no), and waved me on in.

"Welcome back to the States," he said.

And that's all there was to it: I was in Alaska.

I almost cannot believe it. This has been a trip almost 40 years in the making. So much "water under the bridge." I don't know if it's anticlimactic or not, but... I'm here.

I'm really here.

Sometimes, when traveling a lot like this, it helps to imagine where I am on the Earth, sort of like in Google Earth, where you can zoom in and in and in. I get a better sense of my place in the universe, and how far I've come from family and friends (and where they are, too).

It was quite a poignant moment, and I'm still telling myself the same thing: "I'm really here!"

Welcome to Alaska!

Northway mail pickup

So, it was Friday, and I was a bit under the gun to get to Northway to my mail pickup before the afternoon, and before the weekend. This was my first second "General Delivery" pickup, and there's always a bit of uncertainty, although I had called ahead and talked to the postmistress, and the package was there, along with a mystery letter sent directly to Northway from someone. They were holding it for me until Monday.

Slick, muddy highway near the Walker Fork of the Forty-Mile River

All the rain made the roads muddy and slick. I was glad I had 4WD for this, and high clearance, since the mud was building up in the road like ice slush does in the winter.

People tend to drive in the center of the road unless there is an oncoming car, then each have to cross the hump in the middle to drive on the sides.

It's not Marin traffic, that's for sure!

I sped past the turnoff for Chicken and did make it to Northway by 10:30am (the PO is closed for a long lunch, then open again in the afternoon). Unfortunately, there was nobody there; it was all locked up.

The lonely closed Northway Post Office

This put an unexpected damper on things. What do I do now? I checked the times again: yes, it was supposed to be open M-F 10am-noon and 2-4pm. It wasn't a holiday. It was Friday, not the weekend. I started questioning everything, and decided to just pull over to the side of the building and wait to see if anything would happen.

Another truck drove up; a man got out and tried the door, obviously expecting it to be open. He sort of shook his head, got back in the truck and zoomed off. This made me feel a little bit better — that others thought the place should be open, too.

Finally, a black SUV roared up, and the driver motioned me to move out of the spot I was in. The Postmistress had been delayed, but she opened everything up and I did get my mail!

It's always cool to get mail, especially when it's been over six weeks — the last mail pickup I had was in Montana! I especially was happy to get checks, and also a personal card from Cheryl (thank you so much, it means a lot!), and two Pacific Crest Trail Association volunteer/trail crew shirts!

In talking with the postmistress, she mentioned that an elder had died recently, and that tonight (Friday) was the last night of a potlatch honoring her. She did invite me to go, she said there would be food and dancing, and "everybody is going." I was really tempted, but had different things pulling at me — I needed to get to Tok for gas, 50 miles away, and since I'd eaten everything, I also needed to get food, and I wasn't sure what I would do in Northway Village for the remainder of the day.

High waters on the Tenana River at the Alaska Highway bridge

I thought about birdwatching,  since Northway is near the Tetlin Wildlife Refuge, but all the rain had also flooded the rivers, creeks and sloughs, so that the silt-laden water was running high and fast.

Even the willows were submerged, and most self-respecting birds were hunkering down, sheltering from the high waters. I did see a few ducklings, but there was really no place to pull over, so the whole thing was kind of feeling like a bust.

Some days are like this: sometimes things go well, and sometimes they don't. You just have to roll with it.

I ended up going into Tok for the afternoon, and was delighted to find good cell reception there, so made a bunch of calls and it was so great to talk with friends and family, and checked on house and insuranc matters! Got gas, stocked on food, and dropped by the visitor center for information. Determined that I'd go to Eagle for the weekend, and be back in Tok on Monday, primed to head north again to Fairbanks.

Gutted downstairs (photo by Jerri)

House matters

As of Friday, we were sort of in a holding pattern. 

Asbestos: Julie's stuff wasn't out yet, because of the asbestos. The asbestos people hadn't started demolishing the upstairs because Julie's stuff wasn't out.

Water damage: Steve retained the services of a water expert, who went around and tested all the drywall, upstairs and down. I guess "dry"wall acts as a big sponge, because the water damage was more extensive than expected. Water content of the drywall was 25%, even in the office, and 15% is the threshold of damage. So it's all having to come out, even the bathroom downstairs. This will have to be approved by insurance, but it needs to be done. All the drywall upstairs will have to come out, except for the two bedrooms. It's a big, messy job, but the fact that the wet drywall is out downstairs will help with the moisture issues.

Power: Power is back on.

My stuff: For now, it's been moved into the office, but two things were of concern: (1) it has to get out, and (2) the water damage was possibly more severe than expected. Thankfully, friends have gotten to things in time, but my stuff will have to get moved out at some point. "We" are working on that. The estimate for cleaning, packing, moving, storing for six months, and moving back and unpacking was over $7,000, which I think is nuts, considering that most things were already packed! 

Bottom line: I'm staying the course here in Alaska. There really isn't a whole lot I can do back in Marin, and I have no place to stay, so it's better to fret here than there. I don't want to change anything at the house — I don't need to re-design walls or anything; it just needs to be put back in original condition. That will happen; I don't need to be there. 

I think I've made the right decisions about this; paying for it is going to cause some sleeplessness, but heading back won't solve that either.

My mother had all these aphorisms: "Time will tell" was one of them, and it's the one that comes to mind for this situation. 

Stay tuned!