Wednesday 8/2
We are awake after a very stormy night—Nancy early, me just before noon. I know it sounds as if I’m a total slug, but I’m gradually staying up later and later. 2AM has become the norm. 2+8=10. Toss in a couple of hours or so of extra shuteye induced by the pitter-patter of the raindrops, and before you know it, it’s noon. Plus, we had some extra special awakening stimuli this morning. Last night we made the mistake of camping at a “Vista Point”, so from early this morning we’ve had a parade of “Mista Vistas”. These guys (and some gals) find it clinically necessary to view EVERY “Vista Point” and memorize whatever text is inscribed near by. Since we’re parked so close to the actual vista (which is frankly pretty nice), some of these folks apparently think we’re part of the show—so after looking at the scenery out on the horizon, they turn their attention to the interior of the Admiral. (In my deep basso cruise guide voice): “On your right ladies and gentlemen, the heavily braided Tanana River, not named, as some would have you think, after the California Angels pitcher, Frank Tanana, but rather derived from the native American word meaning ‘feathered waters with many barbs, but not straight—more like the hair of the bison which sleeps in the forest rain’. On your left, two California tourists in their obscene RV with the cute little Jeep caboose. Note the occupants, quite typical for this species—if you look closely through this small crack in the curtains, you will see that they’re sleeping. Please do NOT rap on the window!”
The day unfolds as a mixed bag of mostly clouds with just enough sun to be tempting. We’re headed southeast along the Alaska Highway. We left the highway almost two months ago, headed north to Inuvik, NWT, then on a big loop down to Kodiak and up to Fairbanks. Now we’ll complete the last section of the highway—probably 800 miles or so—before returning to the states via the Cassier Highway with a few side trips.
Today we pass through Tok and Tetlin Junction, and stop in Delta Junction to take photos at the ACTUAL end of the Alaska Highway. There’s a similar sign in Fairbanks, but before the Alaska Highway, Fairbanks was already connected with Delta Junction, so that part of the road is not OFFICIALLY part of the Highway.
It’s about 6PM and we notice a log cabin museum across the street. There are museums in every town we’ve visited, and we haven’t stopped at many, but somehow, this one was more alluring. Turns out to be a relocated roadhouse that was part of the pre-Highway system of trails. It’s well preserved and filled with interesting lore. Also well preserved and filled with interesting lore is MIP Marie who runs the place. She’s supposed to leave at 6PM, but keeps the museum open and us entertained well past the appointed hour. Marie’s 80 something, and only about 4’ tall, but she looks as if she could hold up her end of a VW. She had to give up bowling 3 or 4 years ago when they closed the local alley--at the time she was sporting a 164 average. High game is 249—she’s really peeved about missing 250 by one lousy pin! She, her engineer husband, and 7 of their 8 kids moved to Alaska in 1961. I was drinking beer in college—she was defending the new family homestead from marauding Grizzlies. Looking for extra income after they arrived, she ordered 1,000 chicks from the Sears-Roebuck catalog and started a chicken ranch. We failed to ask how much the chicks cost, but she did tell us the freight was a buck a bird. They ultimately had to sell off the whole flock of 10,000 grown chickens for $1.50 each. “Chicken feed”, she said, “but at least we had a little nest egg”.
As we continue the drive south, we remark that the number of RVs, in fact all traffic, has diminished noticeably since we were last on the Highway. Looks like we’ll be among the last to leave this season. It reminds us of the song, “Where Have All The Flowers Gone”. Who wrote it? Who recorded it? Answer at the end of this blog chapter.
Early in the day we see a couple of Golden Eagles, later some Snowshoe Hares, and an Osprey.
Late in the day we come across Dot Lake. For non-family readers, my mom’s name was Dorothy and nickname, Dot. We couldn’t pass this opportunity to photograph the pig with the sign and actual lake.
As we’re finishing up at Dot Lake a rainbow appears, pretty cool and symbolic. The rainbow follows us for miles—changing as our position changes.
At 10PM we stop for the night at Midway Lake. The sun is just setting, and the views of the Wrangle Mountains across the placid lake are spectacular. We take many photos. I am in bed at 3AM—does that mean I won’t awaken until tomorrow afternoon? If this trend continues, will I pass some kind of body-clock version of the international dateline and find myself waking up the day before I went to sleep?
Answer: Written by Pete Seeger (and Joe Hickerson). Looks like he recorded it first, but it was more popularly recorded by the Kingston Trio, then, in no special order: Peter, Paul, and Mary/Joan Baez/and Marlene Dietrich who did versions in German, English, and French. I was going to record an RV version, but was enjoined by ASCAP.
