Little Cottage in the Woods :: December 2014

Dear Friends and Family,
This year we went on the biggest, grandest adventure of all time: The Alcan 5000. I hope you’ll forgive me for not including most of the year in this letter (except to tell you that Kentucky Maple Syrup is delicious like caramel) and focusing entirely on this trip. The tradeoff is a good one…I’m not even sure where to begin!

After last year’s debacle in Mexico we declared 2014 the Year of Winning. The Alcan 5000 is a road rally that starts in Seattle, winds its way around for a big long while, finally dropping into Anchorage 5000ish miles later for the finish. We figured we couldn’t really lose and set about getting ourselves to Seattle.

We drove from Kentucky to Seattle with a quick stop (and a much needed rest day) in Montana. We outfitted the 4Runner with a race radio and some flashy Alcan 5000 stickers, met the people we’d be spending the next 10 days with, and fell into bed completely exhausted. It’s hard to accurately portray the whirlwind of that weekend when I just compacted a cross-country multi-time-zoned driving spree plus a day in the sun working on the car into two sentences – now three. Such is the pace we need to set.

PS- I fell in love with the loneliness of Montana

The next morning we were pumping with adrenaline, so anxious to start the race. Talk about anti-climactic. If you do any Googling of TSD road rallies you’ll learn that under normal conditions the driving is not the exciting part. We were waved across the start line (car 6!) and immediately into a 45 mile transit down the highway to the start of the first ‘stage.’ I will say, we needed the time to work out the kinks, since neither of us had done this type of race before! As the Navigator, I was to live and die by the Roadbook. I brought it with me everywhere to study. Until somewhere in the Yukon when Seth and I decided that the car would be more peaceful if he took over as Navigator and I as Driver – something about mental math vs. a lead foot.

Anyway, I digress! We crossed into Beautiful British Columbia (free popcorn with gas fillup right before the border!) and gawked at the scenery for hours, each mountain, gorge, and crashing river more beautiful than the last. I napped, guiltily, after telling Seth that in 175 miles he’d bear right or something. It felt like a miracle when we finally pulled into our hotel that evening. (The miraculousness of this feat only intensified each day!) On Day 2, we made it through a lot of dirt and gravel roads, a group encounter with some free range cows, a panicked race to the second stage, forest roads, our first black bear sighting, rising mountains and a glacier, to arrive happily in Stewart, B.C. It seemed like the most remote, most beautiful place in the world. We shared a delicious dinner with some of the motorcyclists, and marveled that the present found us surrounded by such beauty.

Of course, the next morning off we went. More black bears, giant rabbits, some dogs wandering the roads and a LOT of winding about found us at a gas station and a junction. We filled up and took the junction down to Telegraph Creek, the actual most remote and most beautiful place on the earth. We looked at the beauty around us in despair because we didn’t have time to bask in it. It is a place that demands a slowing. Seth almost succumbed to it but I still had the Roadbook and knew we had to drive to the Yukon that day. It was already 2pm, and I hurried us back to the car with a longing glance at the glacial river running behind us.

 

We made it back to the junction, and what followed was breathtaking. We had pulled away from civilization, the road under our wheels our last sign of anything human. We looked at mountains in either direction without wires or houses: pure, unbroken wilderness. It took all of our combined, concentrated effort not to pull over and walk into it. The lakes interspersed along the road were the most vivid I’ve ever seen. A black fox darted in front of the car. Time slowed as we watched its sleek black body sprint in front of us, its puffy tail sticking straight out behind it with a perfectly white dollop at the end. We gaped as it ran into the brush on the other side.

Seth started a bewildering habit of doing a handstand at every new sign.

That night we stayed at a place called the Air Force Lodge in the Yukon Territory. As we entered a very large Norwegian man boomed “Take off your shoes please, and I can help you to your room!” We did as we were told and he showed us to our room. He showed us to the communal bathrooms and shower rooms, and as we were heading back into our rooms another member of our race family walked in asking how to get to the bathroom. “Take off your shoes please! It really is the only way!” The password for our wifi was “YesILoveCanada!” I was so excited to have wifi and clung to it in a spurt of frenzied communication before I realized that even though it was still perfectly light outside it was well past 10:30 (pacific time?) which meant it was really rather late back home and I was setting off text alarms in the middle of the night. Sorry.

We are still so far from Anchorage.

The next day was just as glorious if not more so. After the morning stage we crossed the Continental Divide. According to the Roadbook there was a gas station at the Continental Divide, so we didn’t figure we needed to fill up before we left. We followed our friendly Triumph (Car 5) up to the Divide and passed two definitely closed gas stations. Finally the Triumph pulled over at a wayside. They had been counting on that fill up as well, and both our tanks were perilously close to Empty. We had a 5 gallon spare tank with us, so we gave them 2 gallons, gave ourselves 2 gallons, and left a bit in reserve. We continued, slowly – nervously for another hundred miles until we finally coasted down a hill, across a bridge and into the “town” of Teslin. We high fived at the pump and they filled our surplus tank for us.

Our final destination for the evening was Whitehorse, YT but we took a detour down into Skagway, AK. I’m running out of superlatives, but the road to Skagway was the next one up. Golden rocky mountains jutted from the landscape, glacial blue lakes settled into the valleys with giant boulders surrounding them and usually, a rainbow in the background somewhere just for good measure. Our souls ached to be part of it and we finally pulled off and climbed down to the lake to dip our toes in its milky waters. A train whistle echoed through the valley jarring us back to reality.

 

We finished the drive to Skagway, though the US Border agent told us we were way behind the rest of the race. We didn’t care. We stopped for the obligatory ALASKA sign (pants still dripping) and wound down the pass into Skagway. All we needed there was gas and a picture of ourselves at the Ferry Terminal to prove we’d made it.

We snapped our shot, (saw a seal in the bay) and headed back UP the pass, where the US Border agent said we were still way behind. As we made our way back up the road we caught sight of our Triumph friends pulled over again. We stopped to see if they needed anything and it turned out they had overheated up the pass and blown a head gasket. We made a few attempts but their engine wouldn’t start, so we got out the tow strap and hooked them up. I have never sat so tensely, and never been so in tune to the road in front of me as I was over the next 3 hours as I radioed what I hoped was a concise picture of the road ahead of us back to the Triumph. “Double rainbow on the right” I threw in eventually. The Roadbook said we had 100 miles, 5 traffic lights, a traffic circle until finally, the left hand turn into the hotel. Seth made this bit of driving look easy.

ALASKA. We made it for real two days later, and our pants aren’t even wet in our second sign photo!

Seth decided to climb the sign, rather than do a handstand.

In Alaska we went to Fairbanks, the Chena Hot Springs and Ice Museum,

down through Denali National Park (the only rainy day of the trip, and we came across one of our motorcyclists with a flat! Seth of course got him sorted and sent him on his way while I sat in the car attempting to radio for help)

and on to Valdez. We spotted the pipeline, a slap in the face amidst such natural glory, and then made our way to Anchorage with one last lunch time rally stop at the Long Rifle Lodge. (Great Views and Good Food! notes the Roadbook.) This time we shared a meal with our Triumph friends who had adventurously put the top down on their convertible that morning for better views. They had a bit of thawing to do so we lingered in a sunny window gazing out at more mountains and another (melting) glacier.

When I got on the highway in Anchorage I panicked at the number of cars around me (3?). We were relieved that we’d made it, exhausted but happy from the trip, sad that we had to leave early the next morning, and a bit nervous about the drive home. 

At the awards ceremony that night we found out that (since this is the Year of Winning) we hit the jackpot. Not only did we come first-in-our-class and 13th overall, but our fellow racers nominated us for the “Good Samaritan Award” for all the help and friendly smiles we handed out along the way.

Then we drove home. 24 hours back to Teslin, 24 more hours to Lake Louise, 24 more hours to Denver (thank God for family in Denver!), 24 more hours to Kentucky.

But I can’t stop there! When Seth was driving us through the Yukon Territory in the middle of the night on the way home I woke up and saw the Northern Lights dancing above us. They glistened and shimmered, I couldn’t take my eyes off of them.

On a very last note, we just found out that to cap off the Year of Winning Seth came in first place in his class for the NASA Rally Moto Cup this year. Isn’t he the best?!

Love,
Joanna, Seth


And Thunder.

Thunder and Joanna. Home again Home again. (photo by Kelly!)