Alaska 43 & 44. Road Warriors August 21 & 22

August 21

It rained again last night. Ugh. So over it. I had to check between my toes this morning to make sure there weren’t any mushrooms growing there. 

Dave got up early so that he could make the drive back to Chena Hot Springs Resort. Not to take another soak, but to get his bathing suit that he left behind. Not sure how he could have done that, given that when I met him outside after showering, and he handed me a beer but didn’t seem to have anything with him, I asked him, “Where is your towel and suit?” And he said, “I put them in the car already.” He definitely put a bundle in the car, but it didn’t include his suit. So back he went to retrieve it.

I enjoyed the extra time laying in bed and reading. When he got back we quickly hitched up and hit the road.

TO THE NORTH POLE!

Yes! The time had come for me to deliver the letter from Hattie to Santa himself. The town is actually pretty cute. I think it would wear on me if I lived there, but — for instance— the lamp posts are all permanently decorated as candy canes. It’s very charming. 

That mission accomplished, we continued on to the river that a guy we met down in Ninilchik told us to hit for big grayling in Delta Junction. It required a small detour but we were very eager to catch some dang fish. The river was very large and very pretty. There was an older gentleman fishing the exact spot we were told to start at and we talked to him a bit. He shared that he had great success the day before but nothing doing today. 

Good grief AGNES! Can we not CATCH A BREAK?

Still, we were there, so we grabbed our rods. Just to say we did it. We didn’t put our waders on, so were limited in how far out we could cast. But I was honestly just so tired of casting to nothing. And I was getting a little pouty. So rather than be a baby, I went up to the car to relax and read. About 30 minutes later they started rising so Dave came up to put his waders on and promptly caught a couple. I wasn’t feeling very optimistic, but I put on my waders and went down there to join the FUN. Right then, Dave caught a really nice one that I was able to get a picture of — but we couldn’t get him to put his big sailboat fin up before wriggling free.

I caught a baby. And nothing else.I have mentioned this before, but I can’t tell you how frustrating it is for me to see other people catching fish (Dave and the older gentleman… one after the other) when I catch nothing. Now I really WAS feeling like a big baby.

And, after watching fish after fish jump out of the water for everything EXCEPT my (many different) flies, I packed it in and stomped back up to the car. Done. FINISHED with fishing. Arguing with myself about my attitude. 

Blah blah blah. 

I sulked for a few hours. I write this as my confession in the hopes that by revealing it to all I will magically change into a more likable person. (Let me know if it ever works.) 

We continued on toward Tok (the ugly little town you have to go through both coming and going to Alaska by road) where we filled up with gas and water before hitting the Taylor highway, which is a north route that will take us to the Top of the World highway before dropping back down to Whitehorse. We are hoping it isn’t too rugged, as we are very quickly losing that particular spirit of adventure…. And also hoping it doesn’t rain anymore because that will make the gravel road pretty bad, from what we have read.

We found a very nice little turnout on a small creek to camp for the night. I made BRILLIANT “deconstructed enchiladas.” (Can you tell that I am no longer sulking? I go from self-loathing to self agrandization in a matter of hours. Such are the delights of Jennie Menke…)

It was COLD – it got down to freezing overnight, and…

Do I even need to tell you what it did all night?

It rained. 

August 22

We did our usual coffee/cereal/pack-up-and-leave ritual and headed to the town of “Chicken” — a place VERY talked-up in The Milepost, as well as by a few people here and there that we talked to on our travels. From what we could tell, it was simply a little town with a lot of big Chicken sculptures. They had a gas station though, and we did need that, so we stopped and wandered around the little store/gift-shop and bought a pretty bad latte. But it was still a real latte, so I drank it and enjoyed it immensely. 

[Editor’s note: there was more to Chicken than the gas station and we were annoyed with ourselves for not at LEAST driving through it.]

I also bought my one and only souvenir of the trip.

Squatty Chicken. Now nicknamed “Naughty Squatty” — because she keeps turning away from me as we drive instead of paying attention to ME like I WANT her to… naughty squatty.

(The things I do to entertain myself…)

After Chicken, we started the Top of the World highway. It was FOGGY. And it was a HOLY MESS OF MUD. 

Dave promised it would “burn off.” Indeed, it started to, but it was STILL CLOUDY and I was MAD.

But, Dave said, “the clouds also make it EXTRA beautiful!”

I eventually came around. Dave was right.

He was right. He was right. He was right. (it’s our rule. you have to say it 3x)

We enjoyed every minute of it, once we got over the trauma of the oil-treated dirt road and the literal inch-thick coating on the car and camper. We have dealt with this concoction before and it is a nightmare to remove…

We crossed the border back into Yukon Canada — and along with that, a free ferry over the Mighty (very MUDDY) Yukon River…

…and eventually came off the road in Dawson City, the second largest city in Yukon. I expected at least that the roads would be paved. They were slippery buff-colored mud. The sidewalks were wood boardwalks.

We looked for restaurants that were open at noon and found exactly ONE. 

But what a restaurant it was! It might even be the best one we have had on the whole trip. Not even kidding. [Editor’s note: Editor does not agree.] Dave had pork and white beans and grilled baguette that were to DIE for. I had the “ploughman’s lunch” with sliced meat, pickled egg, olives, bread, mustard. It was so, so good. [Editor’s note: he REALLY does not agree with this assessment. Author must have been REALLY hungry.]

We walked around the town. It was very, very charming. I was DELIGHTED by some of the houses. Alaska needs to take a page out of their playbook.

I hear it is usually also very dusty, but not on the day we were there. We were happy in our rubber boots. In Alaska, we would have fit right in, except for the fact we were not wearing XTRATUF boots, but still. But here in Yukon? NO ONE was wearing boots, despite the fact that they SHOULD HAVE BEEN.

We stopped to read informative signs posted around town which were fascinating. These buildings sink because they are built on permafrost and then heated, melting the frost and sinking into the ground:

We found a manual car wash and hosed down the rig (while next to us a group of motorcyclists fresh off the Dalton Highway were hosing each other off. Literally0 and were on our (long) way to just south of Carmacks. 

We changed the whole “let’s take our time…” and “no long drive days…” to driving like bats out of hell because we want to get to Coalville, Utah by Thursday morning, ahead of Labor Day, to have a few things looked at on the camper, since we will be driving right past on our way back to Eagle. 

Did I already say this? I feel like I already said this. But I no longer remember, nor do I have the energy to read back to find it. I must press forward. And you must forgive me if I am repeating myself. 

The scenery continued to be majestic. Truly awe-inspiring. And Devine. We are without excuse [Romans 1:20-21]. It’s hard to disagree.

Our general goal was Carmacks. So we got through that town and found a small campground for the night. What does camping in a campground in Yukon mean? Free firewood! And good firewood. So we had a nice fire, made a dinner of… I can’t remember. And oddly we have no pictures. I know it was something because, also oddly, I do remember doing the dishes. [Editor’s note: Editor believes it was pasta. Author argues he has a 1 in 4 chance of guessing right because we’ve had it so much.]

Some other campers came by to check out the camper. Canadians, to a person, have been so very nice. I like Canada.

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