Thomas’ Bear Story (by Peter)

Seeing as Thomas' story of our collision with the bear is either the highlight or lowlight of our trip (depending on one's perspective), I will not steal his thunder by revealing any details, but I will give you my personal reaction to our little incident on the Alcan Highway.

As much as one prepares for a 13,000 mile road trip of this nature, and builds in all the redundancies one can think of to assure a failure-free trip, how does one account for a collision with a bear?  After the collision I did notice how many semis and pickup trucks have a “cattle guards” or “brush guards” mounted onto the front of their truck.  We obviously didn’t.

Amazingly the air bags did not explode.  We still don’t know why.

If the bear had been a couple of inches taller than the front bumper of the truck, vital parts of our truck would have been demolished and we would have been stranded.  Upon inspection we discovered that our truck has four radiators – one each for cooling the engine, the transmission, the power steering, and I can’t recall the fourth one.  Damage to any of these radiators would have stopped us in our tracks.

The next morning when I fired up the truck at six in the morning I was nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs watching the heat gauge rise on the radiator.  If we had even so much as a minor leak, we would have lost fluid while parked overnight.  It was with a great sense of relief that I watched the heat gauge settle in at the same spot and stay there.

Before purchasing our 2007 Dodge 2500 Cummins 5.0 turbo-diesel, we did a lot of research on the ideal pickup truck for this trip.  It has performed for us flawlessly.  It has not missed a beat, knock on wood – not even a flat tire.

Some thoughts on the blogging process… (by Peter)

Anna has some experience in blogging, but this is a first for Thomas and me.  It has been an interesting experience for all three of us.  The following are some of our observations on blogging:

1.     Posts without pictures (like this one) are boring.

2.     It takes discipline to blog on a regular basis.

3.     When we don’t blog, friends such as Sheri Steiner pepper us with impatient e-mails wondering why we are slacking off.

4.     There is a reason we “binge blog”.  We do not have regular access to Wi-Fi.  We are dependent on McDonalds, Starbucks, or our friends that will be agreeable enough to allow us to log in on their personal computers to blog.  We will frequently travel hundreds of miles without access to Wi-Fi.  When we find a hotspot, we are inclined to compile things as quickly as possible, post them, and then move on.

5.     Blogging, as we do, with a GPS signaling device giving away our exact location within 6 inches every 10 minutes has developed a class of followers on our blog, which we call the “protective stalker”.  An example of this would be a virtual friend by the name of Bob Kirk.  He is frequently more cognizant of our location than we are.  On one occasion, the batteries in our GPS died, and as a result it showed us stranded in a freeway outside of Prince George.  He e-mailed us immediately, concerned about our safety.  He points out for us in advance road conditions, and even biking trails for Thomas.  We look forward to meeting Bob in person some day.  (He has read Mom’s book through twice and was very encouraged by it.)

6.     Keep the amount of hits to our blog in perspective.  I thought we were doing rather well with our approaching 13,500 views since we left home, until I discussed it with my ever-intuitive wife.  Her reply?  That means you probably have around 100 followers, as they are each opening up your sight about five times a day – YOU do the math.

7.     Some of you keep us open on your URL all day, and flip back and forth among your activities to keep track of that “spot” that is posted every ten minutes.

8.     Blogging can be arduous, but it is generally enjoyable!  It has made the trip much more memorable.

Thanks to all of you for showing interest in our travels.

How Facebook Changes Your Life. (By Peter)

It has only been a couple of years since I started to Facebook.  I fought it for years, arguing that it was a waste of time and energy.  I had better things to do than Facebook with my friends.

Fast-forward two years.  I recognized that I would be travelling through Central Alberta where a number of my childhood friends still live.  What would be a good way to get together with them?

I asked Len and Judye Hartzler if they would mind hosting a get-together on Sunday evening at their home.  If they agreed, I would post a notice on this blog, cross-reference it with a post to Facebook, and wait to see what would occur.

Promptly at six o’clock on Sunday evening my friends started showing up, some of whom I had never met in person before.  There were approximately forty of us, and without the aid of any adult beverage we were able to enjoy each other’s company well into the wee hours of Monday morning.

I hesitate to picture post a picture of just one of these friends, but frankly, I simply can’t resist.  This “gentleman” is Tim Callaway, whom I had not met prior to Sunday evening.  For those of you who communicate with me on Facebook you will recognize the name.  Now you have a face to go with it.  If I would choose one word to describe Tim it would be irrepressible (he wishes it would be “humorous”).  He is a dear friend, but no more so than the rest of my friends – but he is one of the more unusual ones!

This one’s for you Lorraine! (by Peter)

We were under strict instructions by one of our best retailers (aren’t they all the best?!)  to post a picture of Banff, Alberta, as we motored through, this being one of her favorite vacation spots.  Unfortunately we were unable to do so.  It was dark when we arrived.

However, before arriving in Banff, we made a flying pit stop at Lake Louise.  Thomas had never been there before.  My sisters and cousins all worked at the Paradise Bungalows during their growing up years.  I had held down multiple jobs as a young man in Banff.  As a result I knew the area well.

Thomas was taken aback by the grandeur of the lake.  One of Thomas’ hobbies is handcrafting wood-strip canoes.  He couldn’t shake the thought of paddling across the lake.  The lake is completely calm due to its being quietly tucked at the base of three mountains with a glacier feeding it from the rear.  The Chateau Lake Louise, unlike most architecture, actually compliments the surroundings.  It does not have the look of a Frank Lloyd Write design, but it maximizes the synergy of nature and facilities in a similar fashion.

Just prior to pulling in at Lake Louise we travelled the Roger’s Pass from Revelstoke to Golden.  As we drove past Trail we managed to time the traversing of a train as it snaked its way through Tunnel Mountain.  If you look closely at the enclosed picture, you will see that the front end of the train is emerging from the upper level of the looped tunnel inside the mountain while the tail end of the train is disappearing from the lower entrance.

You can go home again if you never leave. (by Peter)

Yesterday Thomas and I went our separate ways.  He had friends of his that live in the Cochrane area.  I had friends in the Three Hills area.  We decided to split up for the day.

Three Hills is the town where I grew up.  I lived in that small community from 1952 until 1967.  I was shaped more by my experiences in Three Hills than by the rest of life’s experiences put together.  When we are young we are much more malleable.  The town literally morphed me into the man I became.  We will give it all the credit for whatever gifts I may have, but no blame for my blemishes!

My Grandma and Grandpa Dunn sold their farm in Saskatchewan in the late 1920’s, and moved to Three Hills.  The sole purpose of their move was to enable their three children the opportunity to attend the Prairie Bible Institute under the leadership of Lester Earl Maxwell.

My Dad graduated in 1932, and sailed off to China as a missionary under the China Inland Mission.  I graduated at the same school in 1967.

L. E. Maxwell was the same professor who lectured, nurtured, chided, entertained, nudged, confronted, and at times intimidated us into becoming “committed soldiers of Jesus Christ.”

In reflection, due to the absence of my parents during my growing up years because of their obligations as missionaries, I cannot think of a man that influenced me more than L. E. Maxwell.  I had nothing but the deepest admiration for him.  I was even given the privilege of being his student grader in my senior year.  In 1984 when he moved on to glory, I flew from Ohio to attend his funeral.

The legacy he has left is not only of an institution that continues to shape the lives of young people, but also literally the lives of thousands of workers around the world that have influenced others for Christ.

The picture of this house is the home that my Grandma and Grandpa moved to when they arrived in Three Hills.  It is also the home that my parents would set up a home for us four children every four years when they came home on furlough.

An Update on the John Deere Story (by Peter)

My good friend Len Hartzler (who was the best man at our wedding, groom exempted) had been reading our blogs and was somewhat perturbed by the picture of the John Deere grading blade that we posted for Sporty.  He said we could do so much better.  Sunday afternoon he took me into one of his fields to show me some of the equipment that he operates.  Sporty, these combines are for you! 

I had no idea how sophisticated farming has become.  Len showed me that for a fee of $10 per acre, a company would provide for him satellite pictures of his land showing precisely, within inches, which areas needs fertilization and which areas do not.  Len takes this information, feeds it into the computers on his John Deere fertilizing equipment, and through careful analysis he is able to substantiate that the $10 he pays for this information is returned to him five fold in yield in the fall when he harvests the crops.

A Soak without Soap in the Sulfur Springs (by Peter)

Peter curing his arthritis in the Liard Hot Springs.

Part of me can’t wait to get to the lower forty-eight!  Driving through Alaska, the Yukon, and BC has been analogous to driving through a zoo without cages.  After our head on collision with the black bear last night (read Thomas’ blog) and twenty minutes later passing bison bulls, blood-shot eyes and in full rut, walking along the ditches, we decided to hang it up early before anything really serious occurred.

Thomas slept well, but I woke up with my nerves still a little jangled from the night before.  Fortunately sixty miles up the road the Laird Hot Springs were waiting for us. 

We had been informed by numerous acquaintances that this was one activity we must not pass up, not to mention the fact that our camper doesn’t have a shower and sleeping with the windows cracked would soon be a necessity.

Having fun with the waterproof camera

Thomas had a spare pair of basketball shorts, which saved me from traumatizing the other bathers with what I would have had to wear.  We took along a bar of soap hoping we could lather up while we were at it.

In the changing room I innocently asked another gentleman if there were regulations regarding the use of soap in the hot springs.  He looked at the two of us like we had just fallen off the turnip truck, whence he commenced to chid us like school children for even thinking of anything so foolish.  Didn’t we know that no detergents were allowed anywhere in the wildlife protected areas?  Well, excuse us for even breathing the same oxygen you breath! We left the soap in the changing room, although part of me wanted to slip the bar into my shorts anyways.

When we finally crawled out of the water our torsos were a bright pink.  They say sulfur-fueled hot springs are good for what ails you, and so they were.  We clambered back into the truck ready to see what other adventures we would face in the coming days.

Our Proposed Itinerary for the Remainder of the Trip

Our Proposed Itinerary for the Remainder of the Trip

Wednesday, September 21, we hope to be pulling into Vancouver again. If you use your imagination, it is on our way home! We had a great time there on the way up, we’re looking forward to spending more time with family, and Thomas and I both have some minor business matter to attend to.

Saturday we are proposing to head east towards Calgary, Alberta. We may go up through the Okanogan Valley if we can coordinate visits with friends. If not, we’ll probably head straight from Hope to Kamloops, through the Roger’s Pass, Banff, and on to Calgary.

I have a number of good friends in the Calgary – Three Hills – Red Deere area. I am going to see if we can coordinate a get together Sunday evening at Len and Judye Hartzler’s in Carstairs, Alberta.

Plans for the Sunday evening get together are still tentative, but from a strictly selfish perspective, I would enjoy nothing better than to renew old acquaintances (and new) face to face. Yes, Facebook has been a great way to reconnect and connect, but you can’t give hugs through cyberspace.

Okay, so I know some of you well enough that you may be concerned about whom you may be associating with at this grand party. Put you mind at ease – the Hartzler’s have at least two living rooms (and an old turkey barn if we need it) so the Funda-gelicals can avoid contamination through association with the Neo-Progressives! It is BYOB (Bring Your Own Bible – what did you think I meant?!). We really do want to meet up with you. I’ve told Thomas so much about many of you on this endless road trip – he wants to see if you live up to the image I’ve portrayed of you.

So I can brace myself in preparation for who to expect and who not to expect, please communicate with me on one of the three following ways if you plan to attend. We’ll be arriving sometime around 6:00 p.m.

1. Message me on FB
2. E-mail me at peter@pgrahamdunn.com
3. Text me at 330-464-5501

Thanks.

Driving 70 mph into a 40 mph head wind will do this to you…. (by Peter)

This is not the proper way to attach a propane tank to a camper

Even though we carry five gallons of reserve diesel fuel we work hard at not running the Cummins 5.9 diesel engine under a quarter tank.  It was time to refuel.  We pulled into a fueling station just west of Haines Junction on the Alaska Highway.  I ran into the station to have the pumps activated.  The attendant asked me, with somewhat of a grin, if we liked to drive with our spare propane tank that way.

I turned around and looked back at the truck.  Our spare propane tank was dangling precariously off the roof of the camper, suspended by a lone, green ratchet tie-down.

Originally the spare tank had been mounted onto an apparatus attached to our tow bar just off the left side of our rear bumper.  Before we left, however, I got paranoid about being rear-ended envisioning out camper and truck exploding in a ball of fire.  Thomas and I decided to move it up onto the roof.

Originally we had two tie-downs holding the tank, but a week ago experienced some difficulty.  We reattached it in what we thought was a more secure position.

It stayed firmly in place until we hit those 40 mph headwinds this morning.  It must have happened just before we pulled in for fuel as we did not hear it slapping the side of the camper, nor did any other vehicle signal to us that it was flapping around precariously.

Rather than continue on with a spare bottle, (we could have carried it in the camper but it is not a good idea to have propane bottles where one is sleeping) we bartered with the gas station attendant and ended up selling him the the empty bottle for $20.  We continued on our way relieved that even though Anna may not be here to watch over us, Someone even more influential than her is!

“And they went out two by two…..” (by Peter)

The group of three has now become a group of two.  It was with mixed emotions that we droppedAnna off at the airport in Anchorage for her return home to Joe and Ohio.  She was booked on a red-eye, leaving at 1:45a.m. Sunday morning. She didn’t want to sit for hours at her gate waiting forher plane to take off while at the same time she wanted Thomas and I to get adecent nights sleep.

We drove around Anchorage briefly to forestall the inevitable.  We helped her to the ticket counter with herbags and thirty pounds of frozen halibut, hugged, and left.  As a TCKer (Third Culture Kid – a euphemismfor Missionary Kid) I’ve never learned to appropriately deal with separations.  The sooner we got out of that airport thebetter.

Anna was the matriarch that set the rules on the first halfof the trip.  No driving after 7:00 p.m.,no using disposable dishes, rinse after you wash, use hand sanitizer regardlessif it is 3:00 a.m. or 3:00 p.m.

She was the domestic that kept Thomas and I from turninginto howling wolves, and now that she’s gone she has left an open wound in eachof our hearts.

But there is an upside! We were able to drive until 1:00 a.m. last night, and were fired up andon the road again this morning by 6:00. The floor of the camper is currently scattered with debris fromcomponents bouncing out of cupboards and off of the stove as we barrel along at70 to 80 mph on our merry way to Vancouver! 

The first six days in Alaska I did not see one moose.  Last night between 6 and 10 we encounterednine and were able to witness a near miss by an on-coming vehicle.  We had seen the moose in advance and slowedalmost to a stop.  The on-coming vehicledid not.  He had to lock up all fourtires and turned the air blue with smoke from the burnt rubber.

Thomas and I are spelling each other off on thedriving.  Thomas attempted (for the firsttime) to sleep in the camper while I drove, but it doesn’t appear either one ofus will attempt that again.  With thefrost heaves on the Alaska Highway I’m sure he came close to being airborne atime or two.  He didn’t sleep a wink.

People, Places or Things? (by Thomas)

People...

Places...

... orThings

We have bid adieu to Anna and are officially on our way back home, although we will be taking a serpentine route.  Our part of the trip is a bit more than halfway over and I have been reflecting on my highlights thus far.  We have seen some amazing places, done some awesome things, and spent time with great people.

The scenery has been beyond compare.  Over the course of the last three weeks we have driven through breath-taking mountain passes, walked up to and flown over glaciers, ate lunch at glassy mountain lakes and floated down turquoise glacial rivers.

Along the way we also have been able to see and do some amazing things.  We have seen bison, elk, caribou, mountain goats, mountain sheep, moose, bear, bald eagles, red salmon, hump back whales, puffins, sea otters and more.  We have been able to go halibut fishing, trout fishing with both spinners and fly rods, hiking, boating, and of course, a lot of driving.

Despite all these places we have visited and things we have done, the people that we have visited are what make the trip.  As of now, it is easy for me to determine the highlights of the trip.  It has been the time spend with family and friends: 

The Knutsons in Minnesota

Aunt Rosemary in Spokane, WA

Aunt Rachel, Sam, Shannon, Natalie and boyfriend Will in Portland OR

Dave, Heather, Tim, Barb, Rachel, Kelsey and Gillian (via Skype) in Vancouver, BC 

Amanda Keegel in Anchorage, AK

 Cindy Detrow in Homer, AK

All these people have made the trip for me.  Of course Anna and my Dad have been great travel companions and have made the driving a good experience. Yes, it has been great to see the places and do the once-in-a-lifetime activities, but it would not have been nearly enjoyable, or even enjoyable at all to have done them without good company. 

Cindy, the hostess with the mostess

Our stay in Alaska has been greatly enhanced by the gracious hospitality of Cindy Detrow, a friend of mine from high school.

The first night we arrived, she grilled us a freshly-caught silver salmon. Since then she's served as travel guide, general advisor, and much-needed female companion for me (Anna). Thank you, Cindy! Our trip would not have been nearly as successful without your generosity and guidance.

Of course, any mention of Cindy would be incomplete without including a reference to her faithful dog, Jake. You couldn't ask for a more laid-back, easy-going companion.

Touching an Iceberg

I hiked up to a glacial lake and saw the ice bergs floating close to sure.  I decided they were too close to not go out to one.  How many chances am I going to have to touch an ice berg!?  Needless to say it was cold, and I was starting to go numb after a couple of seconds...but it was worth it.

Happy 65th, Peter Dunn!

Today is Dad's 65th Birthday. Thomas and I decided to make him king for a day and do whatever he wanted to do. I guess we've been living it up too much, because he couldn't think of anything other than blogging for 3 hours (so, dear reader, make sure to wish him a happy birthday) and cleaning out our truck and camper, which had long since surpassed even the boys' tolerance levels for living quarters. Now our camper is spic n span, and we're mostly up-to-date on our blog posts. Cindy, our host, also made him this fabulous birthday breakfast (see picture).

Trout Fishing on the Kenai River

Yesterday, our 19th day on the road, we had the choice of either trolling for silver salmon on the bay in Homer or fishing for rainbow trout and Dolly Varden trout while floating down a glacier fed river in drift boat.

Anna holding a Rainbow Trout she caught

It didn’t take us long to decide on the drift boat on the Kenai river! David, a friend of Cindy’s, has fished the rivers, lakes, and streams of Alaska for the last twenty years. We could not have asked for a better guide.
Equipped with waders and life jackets over multiple layers of clothing, we set off. Thomas, Anna, and I sat in the front while Dave adroitly navigated the Kenai River as it belched millions of tons of glacial water into the Pacific.

The goal was to catch and release fish, but the spectacular scenery distracted us as we floated south for six hours.

It was a good day for fishing! We each reeled in multiple Dolly Vardens and rainbow trout.

Dave is a fly fishing instructor. At a number of points along the river we pulled over to the shore and Thomas quickly picked up on the nuances of fly-fishing. He was the one that was out to hook the fish but it became readily apparently that he was the one that was getting hooked... on fly-fishing! He pulled in a beautiful rainbow trout, which spoiled him for life as a fly fisherman.

Peter with the "Dolly" that he reeled in

The life cycle of the red salmon was something we discussed at length. All along the shore were rotting carcasses of the male and female. The females had laid their eggs; the males fertilized them with their milt. They then died to fertilize the riverbed to give the eggs a head start when they would hatch out in the spring. The river on occasion literally smelled like chicken manure from the rotting flesh. On one occasion I accidentally hooked a live red and started pulling him to the boat before he freed himself.

A Red Salmon that is close to death

They were so thick that Thomas was able to submerge his water-proof camera and take a picture as one struggled by him heading up the swift current of the river.

We had heard rumors that one could literally walk across the water without sinking by walking on the back of the reds. It was not quite that dense in our case, but one could envision that happening.

Bald eagles spotted the banks. We espied mountain goats in the far distance. Mergansers were everywhere, as were bloated gulls that could hardly fly from gorging themselves on the red salmon carcasses.

Diamond Ridge Beach

While Thomas was off hiking to the glacier across the bay, I (Anna) attempted a much more moderate venture – hiking the mile down to Diamond Ridge Beach. Dad accompanied me to start with, but the path proved too steep and slippery for his traction-less hiking boots.

The one mile hike was perfect for me, and the rocky beach was beautiful. I would have liked to hike along the beach a ways longer, but the tide appeared to be coming in, and being a little more paranoid than my brother Thomas about being sucked out to sea, I made my way back up to the truck.

Filming Brown Bear in Alaska

A Brown Bear waiting for a Silver Salmon to swim by

Thomas and I had an open day to explore on our own while Anna flew across the bay with Cindy to visit a school in Nanwalek, just south of Homer.

Thomas negotiated an excellent half-day fare to fly two hours north to watch brown bears feeding on migrating silver salmon.

Peter in front of the Brown Bear

Geno, our pilot in a single engine Cessna, doubled as our guide for bear-watching. We kept watching for a landing strip after we spotted the bear from the air. Geno quickly descended and landed on a narrow beach of wet sand – not quite what we were expecting. We then walked a half-mile to the one brown bear feeding on the salmon. It was the end of the season and most of the bears had had their fill of fish and headed inland to fill up on berries before hibernating for the winter.

We were able to get right up to the bear. He appeared jaded by appearance of humans. Each time a salmon jumped he was ready to pounce but while we were there we were not able to see him catch anything.

We picked up two other folks on the return trip back to Homer another unforgettable experience in the book.

Nanwalek

On Wednesday I (Anna) accompanied Cindy on her weekly trip to Nanwalek. As a speech pathologist, she takes a little puddle-jumper 3 days a week to some of the Alaska Native villages that are across the bay from Homer.

Nanwalek is a village of about 200 people, with a combined elementary-middle-high school of approximately 70 students. I got to hang out with Cindy and meet about 5 of her speech students, in between which I explored the village.

Nanwalek feels more like a 3rd world country than anything I’ve encountered in the U.S. People own ATVs instead of cars, live in dilapidated houses, and struggle with deafness and diabetes related to in-breeding, not to mention mental health issues such as depression and alcohol addiction.

I admire Cindy and the other teachers for working there, but I’m not sure I’d be able to do it! It’s a challenging, but rewarding, environment.

Halibut Fishing Along the Alaska Coast

Despite the cold (by Ohio standards) and rainy weather, Thomas and I were not to be deterred from taking a charter boat half-day halibut fishing excursion along the bay. Our boat, the Irish, pulled out from the Homer spit at around 11:30 am. Equipped with gear that we’d borrowed from Cindy (Anna) and John Knutson (Thomas), we managed to stay dry for the most part. We also took enough Dramamine to counteract the severe rocking of the boat from 3-4 foot waves. It was choppy the entire time we were on the water, sometimes worse than others.

I (Anna) caught my first two fish within a half hour, thankfully, since the fishing slimmed out and the lead weights got heavier after that. Thomas took a while longer to haul in his, but we both ended up with our quota of 2, which came out to 28.8 pounds of filleted fish! I am going to be checking it on to the airplane when I fly home later today. Although we got our money’s worth, we both prefer a more relaxing day on the water, like the one we had fishing on the Kenai River with Dave. Halibut fishing is hard work, and the next day I was sore and exhausted!

Homer, Calving Icebergs, Tufted Puffins, and Baleen Whales

If you were patient enough to follow the signals from our GPS yesterday you will see that we had a pretty awesome day! Our signaling tracks are all over a fresh glacier bed and end up meandering around the Pacific just off the Kenai Peninsula.

Thomas hired a water taxi to go cavorting across a glacier bed across the bay. The skipper’s name was Lance. With the GPS signaling device in his backpack, together they took off eight miles across the bay where Thomas was dropped off to go glacier exploring. (Spelunking is cave exploring – what’s the word for glacier exploring?)

I’m concerned that he’s watched too many of these outdoor “man against nature” reality shows. When he reached the lake that was being fed by the glacier, he espied these calved off chunks of ice floating out in the middle of the lake, and decided that if he did not swim out to touch one of them, he would have been guilty of not living his life to the fullest.

He put together this great footage by setting his camera on auto video mode on a stone on the bank, and in nothing but his tighty-whiteys he started wading in. He ending up literally swimming in that ice water! Crazy guy! He was all alone, no cell-phone coverage, no radio, nothing! And the bear mace was in the backpack along with the GPS signaling device. And he’s out their swimming in a glacier lake! Hopefully we can get that video up for you before we’re done with the trip! It is priceless! As a Dad watching it last evening, it gave me the chills in more ways than one.

Anna and I then joined Lance in his water-taxi at 5:00 p.m. as we went back over the bay to pick Thomas up at the toe of the glacier bed to bring him back to Homer. Lance was a great sport, a local guy from Homer who lives in a wrecked, beached boat along the spit. It didn’t take much for the three of us to talk Lance into taking us on a “nature tour” during which we got great video footage of otters, tufted puffins, otters, and best of all baleen whales! They were spouting, sounding, and flipping their huge tails in the air.

As we pulled back into the spit at Homer we got a good look at The Time Bandit, the name of the ship from the Deadliest Catch. It harbors here in the offseason.

Everyone wants to go to heaven, but no one wants to die. We’ve been able to get there, and keep a pulse while we’re at it. How blessed are we!

Home on the Homer Spit for Five Days

This is Peter commenting while the youngins are catching up on their z's.  

After 14 days of pounding out the miles it is time to luxuriate in the beauty of Homer, Alaska.  We are staying with Cindy Detrow, a childhood friend of Anna's.  Her home overlooks the bay south of Homer.  We could not have asked for a better hostess, nor for a better view!  I am sitting in her study as I write overlooking the bay south of Homer with a huge glacier in the distance.

We have no specific plans for the next few days, but a few of the options that we are entertaining are as follows:

1.    Thomas would like to take a sea-taxi and hike up to the glacier.  He will definitely be taking his bear mace with him.  We’ve informed him repeatedly that the mace is to be sprayed at the bear to keep him from charging, not to be sprayed on yourself to make you unappealing to the bear!

2.    We’ve heard numerous rumors that there are streams in the area where the spawning salmon as so thick that one can run across the stream, dancing on the backs of the salmon, and like Peter of old, truly “walk on water”.  We want to see if that is urban legend, or if it can actually be done!

3.    The Homer Spit protrudes five miles out into the bay, at the end of which there are hundreds of boats, a boat graveyard, a hotel, condos, and numerous things to see and do. (One of the boats from “The Deadliest Catch” – the one with the skull and cross bones – is anchored out there and we are considering getting a picture of it). Anna and I are considering renting bikes and pedaling out there while Thomas will take his road bike and take on a more serious biking challenge.  (We saw a tobacco store in town and chuckled at the name of it – “Homer Spit Tobacco”!)

4.    Trolling for steelhead salmon in the bay is high on the list.  We were told you fish in the bay, because once they start heading up stream they are preparing to spawn, and their bodies have already started to decay.  Bear may not care, but apparently we have more discriminating tastes than bears.

5.    The only way to get anywhere out here is by seaplane.  Going on a birding expedition, or a more general wildlife tour are a couple of options.

6.    Fishing for halibut is perhaps the most popular fishing sport for this time of year.  We’ll look into that.  There are full day options or half day, and they guarantee a catch!

7.    On Wednesday Anna will fly with Cindy to a remote island south of Homer to accompany Cindy in her assignments as a speech pathologist with the Alaska school system (weather permitting).

8.    And high on the list for all of us is just chilling.

Saturday we head back to Anchorage.  Anna flies home at 1:00 a.m. on Sunday.  Thomas and I will spend a couple more days in the Great White North before we start to head south.  We have yet to determine our route – but we have a number of options we are considering, not the least of which is the Cassiar Highway, which caused us all that grief a week ago!

The Raison d'etre for the Alaska trip.

 I mentioned earlier that I would post the primary reason that we have taken this trip and I’ve heard from a couple of you indicating your growing impatience for this post.  So as we finish off the last 200 miles to Homer heading south on the Kenai Peninsula I’ll attempt to write this on my lap-top from the middle of the back seat (best view in the truck) as Thomas nobly herds our 10,000 pound beast south, and Anna takes in the splendor of Alaska riding shotgun.

I have always wanted to make this drive and had resolved at some point to do so upon my “retirement”.  Perhaps it was my fondness for Travels with Charlie by John Steinbeck, or Blue Highways by William Least Heat Moon.  Regardless, I was born with wanderlust, and have never quite shaken it.  My Mother informed me at one time that by the time I was five years of age I had travelled around the world two and one-half times – and that was before the common commercial use of air travel, but just slightly after the Lewis and Clark era of the oxen and Conestoga wagon.

On a relaxing evening during the Christmas holidays of 2009 LeAnna and I were home alone when we received a disturbing phone call from Anna and Joe asking if they could come over.  Anna had just received a diagnosis that she had come down with breast cancer.  We were all in shock.  LeAnna prayed the way only a mother could; I was incapable of doing so.

Anna dutifully went through her treatment and from all appearances was making great progress until December of last year when we received a call while in Atlanta that the cancer had returned.  It was the same strain of cancer that she had in her breast but it had now metastasized to her bones.

This was more difficult for all of us to process than the initial diagnosis.  This was stage four.  The second round of treatments began.  She continued with her full-time job as a prof at Ashland University.

Gradually she was able to get her strength back but it was a long, arduous, and painful process for all of us.  After much processing Anna decided not to return to her job and set about making a “bucket list” for her and Joe.

When she got wind that I was seriously considering heading to Alaska this fall it didn’t take her long to throw in her lot with me.  Thomas, our son, had earned a one-month Sabbatical after five years of pastoring, and joined up with us as well.

We do not know what the future holds, but we do know Who holds the future, and as long as He gives us all breath, we will relish each day.  Living on the edge heightens one’s sense of awareness and gives you a deeper appreciation for the gifts we are given, and for the beauty we are surrounded with.

No tea in China or gold in Juneau could replace the last fourteen days in which we pounded out 6,500 miles and 120 hours together in the cab of the truck – not counting the hours of food preparation, eating, and sleeping together in the camper.

We motor on with an occasional glance in the rear-view mirror, but our energy and enthusiasm are directed out the windshield.

Day 12: The Best Day on the Road Yet!

Written by Anna:

Stone Mountain of Northern British Columbia

The previous two days (Days 10 & 11) have been some of the most tedious, monotonous, brain-numbing, insanity-inducing driving of the trip.  Day 10 felt like Groundhog Day:  a 300-mile drive on Route 16 to get to a washed-out Route 37, followed by a 300-mile drive back to Prince George to sleep in the parking lot of a Canadian Tire store (Canada’s version of Home Depot).  Day 11 wasn’t much better:  driving north on a busy 2-lane road through a ton of construction to get to a crammed RV park too late to fix dinner.  By the end of these days, I was ready to buy a plane ticket to Alaska if I’d been given the choice.  Fortunately I wasn’t, because Day 12 was packed with gorgeous scenery, tasty food, smooth roads, light traffic and diverse wildlife. 

Anna with our trusty steed in front of Stone Mountain

The following is a sampling of some of the scenery we drove through.  I’m no professional photographer, but I am getting better at taking pictures out the window of a moving vehicle.  Unfortunately, a road sign or antenna occasionally makes its way into my pictures.  I’m not very happy about it, but it’s better than asking the boys to slow down the truck, which is like asking a bear to regurgitate a GPS.  It doesn’t usually work, and then I have to get out my big stick.  

Muncho Lake--the road was just feet from the lake with no guard rail for miles

Wildlife Spotting on the Alcan Highway

The well camouflaged mountain goats

Posted by Anna:

We had scoured in vain for wildlife the past 5000 miles and were giving up hope of spotting anything more exciting than a crow.  That was until the morning of Day 12 driving north from Fort Nelson, BC to Whitehorse, YT.  Today we weren’t expecting anything unusual, since the last time we’d been promised by a local that we’d see wildlife we were sorely disappointed.  However, our drive today provided not only gorgeous scenery, but the best wildlife spottings we’ve had the whole trip. 

First, we spotted a mama mountain goat and her kid nibbling something delicious along the side of the road.  Anna was so excited that she hopped out of the truck cab with an apple, intent on feeding them, only to have them jump off the side of the road and trot away.  As you can see, they are quite camouflaged with the stony landscape (Thomas commented later that we were surrounded by hundreds of mountain goats and just didn’t know it). 

A herd of Caribou that were not shy

Then we came across a herd of caribou also grazing at the side of the road.  Thomas and Dad got out o the truck this time and chased them off.  Luckily they are not hostile like moose, which are still hoping to see. 

We were also pleased to see some buffalo grazing, which was all the more exciting since it was not in a National Park.  We have been dissing on Yellowstone ever since we left, noting that so far it hasn’t beat any of the scenery we’ve passed on the Alcan Highway.  We did not get out of the truck to take pictures of the bison, since none of us want to end up like the bear in the other post. 

A large bull Buffalo that lumbered across the road behind us

Lastly, as we were eating dinner by a lake, we noticed a bird approaching from the distance.  As it got closer, we identified it as a bald eagle, and it flew so close over top of us that we could hear its wing beats.  I wasn’t quick enough with my camera to get a close shot, but if you look carefully, you can see it in the upper left part of this picture. 

All in all, it was a great day on the road, and we look forward to more wildlife once we arrive in Alaska, hopefully in another day or 2.  Just as long as we don’t have any more 12 hour wrong turns!

The Bear that Attempted to Devour Thomas:

As you recall while we were setting up camp in Quesnel, BC, Thomas chose to go on a 22-mile ride around the town. We sent the GPS signaling device along with him in case he was either attacked by a bear or got lost.

In hindsight, we wish it had been as simple as his getting lost. Instead he had a serious confrontation with the bear. However, the bear was quick to discover that it was not one against one – it was one against three, and when Anna is provoked, there is no one in their right mind that is going to get in her way.

As soon as we got wind of his being attacked by the bear, we grabbed Douglas Fir club that had been discarded by a logging crew, threw it into the camper, and headed of in the general direction of where Thomas’ GPS was sending out its SOS signal.

The enclosed picture tells you all you need to know about the fate of the bear. Notice how proud Thomas is as he stands over the vanquished! They say don’t mess with Texas? We say, “Don’t mess with Anna”!!

PS Before jumping back into the truck Peter noticed something that looked like fresh bear droppings. He was so intrigued by them, that he picked them up to take home with us as a souvenir of the trip to Alaska.

A Meal Cooked on the Road – Literally.

This evening we were in a hurry to get to Whitehorse. Amanda Keegel, a recent High School graduate from our church back in Kidron, is doing a one-year service project in Anchorage, and we would very much like to make it to her home by tomorrow evening.

Between them, Anna and Thomas decided that some precious time could be saved if Anna would cook up a meal for us in the camper while Thomas continued to drive. We had not attempted this before.

Anna was more than game, but after fixing the meal for us, she indicated that it was a surreal experience chopping up vegetables with a sharp knife while balancing herself around the curves and over the bumps of the Alcan.

I sat in the back seat and communicated with Anna through the back window while Thomas drove. Using the gas stove and a large pot, she cooked up a stew consisting of a can of beans, chopped up onions and carrots, a little spam for seasoning and butter.

We pulled over beside this lake, served ourselves a large platter of the stew and topped it off with slices of Swiss cheese. It was the best meal we have had on the road!

For lunch, Thomas found this lovely spot beside a creek. While he shampooed his hair in water two degrees above freezing, I got out the Coleman stove and set it up on a folding table. Anna set a pot on the burner, filled it with water, and commenced to poach three eggs. While they were cooking, I toasted some bread on the other burner. Anna then combined the poached egg and toast with some smoked silver salmon that Thomas purchased on our goose chase the day previous. Haute cuisine along a mountain stream!

Not safe being a Big Horned Sheep along the Alcan Highway!

At a quick fuel stop on the Alcan we happened upon this rack of horns. The remains of this ill-fated mountain goat will doubtless end up mounted over the fireplace of someone’s man-cave!

First Major Curve Ball

Driving all the way to Alaska has one comparison to riding a bicycle. It’s not a question of if you go down, it’s a matter of when.

We knew we would face one of those “gut check” moments on a thirty day road trip attempted by three novices, we were just uncertain as the nature of the curve ball – mechanical, being outrun by a grizzly, food poisoning from a silver-head salmon that was supposedly smoked, or graciously rolling our rig in slow-motion on an unsuspecting curve on a uncontrollable downhill descent. What we did not expect was a twelve hour, 600 mile, round trip out of Prince George due to a complete section of road being washed out, the result of heavy rains.

Yesterday morning, September 8, our tenth day on the road, we left Quesnel, British Columbia, just south of Prince George. We were in high spirits after one of the best nights in the camper at an RV campground nestled next to a quiescent, crystal-clear lake.

Before leaving Ohio it was a foregone conclusion that we would take the “scenic” route – Cassiar Highway (Highway 37), rather than the more conventional and safe route, Highway 97, heading straight north out of Prince George. To reach the Cassiar turnoff required our driving 300 miles straight west out of Prince George towards the coastal town of Prince Rupert before heading north.

Cassiar has earned a reputation as one of the most scenic, yet rugged highways, in North America. Drivers audacious enough to venture on this route are rewarded with high adventure due to the unusual sightings of wildlife in conjunction with pristine lakes and mountain passes.

The Steelhead Salmon were attempting to jump up this water-
fall.  It was very impressive to watch.

By now, the days in the truck have developed into what we consider a “normal” routine. We alternate driving, fix our lunches in the camper, keeping each other entertained with good-natured sarcasm, and screeching to sudden stops when we spot unusual sightings such as salmon being scooped out of fish ladders by hand-held nets as they attempt to leap up-stream to their spawning grounds.

The insatiable demands of my OCD are somewhat sated by my ability to leap out of the truck at opportune moments to scrub down the accumulation of bug juice on truck and camper alike. I figure if we only make this trip once let’s do it in a truck that is at least clean on the outside!

But yesterday’s drive was tinged with an admixture of excitement and apprehension, knowing that around 4:00 p.m. we would swing north on the Cassiar to commence a 450-mile drive through pristine mountain wilderness.

Literally thirty seconds before turning north Thomas and I caught an announcement on the radio that the Cassiar, due to days of continuous heavy rains drifting in off the Pacific, had been washed out. Warily we pulled in at the fueling station at the Cassiar junction. Our “nearly worst” nightmare was confirmed. The day before the road had been closed with no predictions by the B.C. Department of Highways as to when it would reopen.

There had been no signs along the entire 300 miles on the road west out of Prince George to alert tourists of the road closure. As we pulled in at the junction, two huge 60-foot RV buses pulled in right behind us, sharing our predicament with us.

A kindly gentleman stood in the middle of the road with a stop sign and bright fluorescent, day-glow orange vest blocking entrance to the road north. We asked him if he had a bulletproof vest under it! He smiled.

We had one premonition that something was wrong. Anna and Thomas could not get GPS to plot a route up the Cassiar. Of course, like everyone else that has had inexplicable experiences with GPS, we ignored it. In hindsight, it should probably have alerted us. Garmin must have had access to immediate information on the status of roads, but the thought did not occur to us to check it out further.

Anna did some fancy camera work to capture our supper in
front of the world's biggest fishing pole

We were faced with two options. Continue to head west until we got to the coast at Prince Rupert and attempt to ferry-hop our way up to Alaska, or return the 300 miles to Prince George and take the traditional route north through Dawson Creek, Fort Nelson, Watson Lake, and on to Whitehorse.

It didn’t take us long to decide to retrace out steps. It is the off-season for ferries and other tourist activities, ferry schedules are unpredictable, and we fathomed ourselves stuck on some God-forsaken island for four days waiting for another ferry. We are on a tight schedule as Anna flies back to Ohio September 18.

The two “gen-xers” were somewhat numb. They couldn’t believe we had blown an entire day. Analogies were made to the sound of the flushing toilet in our camper. It didn’t take long, however, to put life into perspective. Once we decided to head back to Prince George we put pedal to the metal, and by 10:30 p.m. we were safely back in Prince George, parked just around the corner of a Tim Horton’s, allowing me to sneak out of the camper at 6:00 a.m. this morning, thus allowing the youngins to catch a few more z’s while I loaded up on more than my share of Horton’s caffeine before hitting the road again at 8:30.

The Morning after a 12 Hour Detour

Sitting at a gas station with free wi-fi after a 12 hour detour

Good Morning All.  It is Friday morning, September 9th and we are just north of Prince George.  For those of you that follow our tracking link, you have already noticed that we have taken a long detour in order to get to where we are at.  We are sitting at a gas station with free internet right now, so I don't have time to give the whole story, but the long and short of it is that we drove 6 hours east in order to take route 37 North to Alaska, only to find out that it is closed due to too much rain.  Some sections of the road had washed out.  So we drove 16 hours back to Prince George and stayed the night in a Canadian Tire parking lot.  Talk about a long detour!  Now we are headed north again, hopefully on a road that will allow us to pass all the way to Alaska.

Sporty, this one's for you!

Sporty, you indicated that our blog site was incomplete without a John Deere, so on the road to Vancouver, B.C., we passed this clunker doing about 20 mph. We whipped out the camera, knowing that you would find special pleasure in this shot!! Enjoy.

Day 9: Vancouver, B.C. - Quesnel, B.C.

North of Whistler B.C. with the Coastal Mountains in the background

A Beautiful mountain lake where we stopped for lunch

It is Wednesday, September 7, 12:30 p.m. This is Peter blogging, as I sit nervously in the middle of the back seat (safest place in the truck) while Anna courageously herds our 10,000 pounds of steel and glass on a narrow mountain pass north of Whistler en route to Prince George, British Columbia and then continue on to Homer, Alaska.

We are now pounding out the miles with purpose! No more stops other than RV parks between Vancouver and Homer. We’ve had great visits with relatives and friends as we traversed the continent, but now we succumb to a higher calling – get up North to Alaska to meet up with Cindy Detrow and Amanda Keegel.

An interesting aside – we have this GPS signaling device that every ten minutes sends out a signal to a satellite indicating our exact location, while at the same time leaving a distinct imprint on a map linked to this blog. (You can follow us on this, if you like; just click on the link in the upper right). Besides sending out a signal, this GPS also has a button, which if one chances to push, will literally send out a search party headed by the State Patrol, and if they can’t find you, then they unleash the helicopters (and we pay for all the expenses). I understand skiers in avalanche areas also use it. If they become buried under ten feet of snow it is much easier for the rescuers to know where to dig.

Thomas and I are so much enjoying pounding out these twelve hour days that we threatened to put in a seventeen hour day tomorrow on our way to Wilson’s Lake. Anna’s reply was straight to the point – try to pull that stunt and I’m calling in the helicopters with the GPS signaling device, after which she'll fly to Homer at our expense!

Looking at the map from Vancouver to Homer is a bit daunting, so we carve off the distance one millimeter at a time. But we have purpose, a destination, and the will to carry it out. Nothing, on the road, or in life, is more gratifying.

To date, we have managed to keep all four wheels firmly on terra firma. Total mileage since we left home eight days ago is 3,600. If we stay on the course we currently have selected it will take approximately another 2,200 miles to arrive in Homer, Alaska.

For the first seven days of driving we averaged 55 mph. That will doubtless drop as we drive north. We went through a pass this morning just north of Whistler that was so steep and serpentine that our miles per gallon dropped at times to six. A motorcyclists passed us on the incline, but with our 5.9 Cummins diesel in “tow mode” we were able to keep the cyclist within sight for at least seven miles.