Tag: middle age women
Southward Bound
It’s warm and cozy, sitting in Willow (our van) with the heat on. It rained last night, as usual, and the morning sun is busting out at the seams as the heavy clouds give in to the coming day.
The rain drops sit poised on the edge of the turning leaves and bushes on the forest floor, just waiting to bedazzle the world when the sun finds its small existence. The lack of squirrels portends the coming of the fall chill and the stupendous color change beginning. For the last month, these busy little creatures have been scurrying from tree to tree, digging holes and filling them with a winter bounty, if they can find them under a blanket of fresh snow. The geese have been filling the skies in huge, jagged Vs, honking as they begin their southerly migration. Perhaps we should take note of these happenings and head south ourselves.
We crossed the border from British Columbia Canada, a few days ago. The fall colors slowly fading out and the green leaves have reappeared as if we passed backward through time. The spectacular mountain vistas giving way to the subtle rolling hills covered in orchards and vineyards, then the unending flat fields of golden grains, farm houses and rogue silos, interrupting the golds with a few ancient cottonwoods, tin roofs glinting the suns rays like a diamond amongst the fields of gold. We’ve been sticking to wandering the backroads, trying to eek out whatever new experience we can find as we meander southward.
It’s always bittersweet when we move from one place to another. This trip, now spanning over 9,500 miles, has seemed like a blur. The vast Canadian wilderness, coupled with the wildness of the Alaskan frontier, has made it easy to immerse oneself in nature, primal and raw. To have an intimate insight into the lives of the First Nations people, the animals and fishes that roam the vastness, the small plants, boreal forests, 14,000’ mountains, glaciers and lakes, Arctic tundra, towering fiords, and so much untamed beauty…has been a blessing that is etched into my mind forever.
Universal Being
As we drive down the long,
lonely, thin road…
My gaze transfixed on the horizon.
Eyes gazing at all before me
The golds of the aspen
The blood orange of alder
The reds of the fireweed
Accented against the tall green conifers
Making a patchwork quilt of the mountain sides.
The beauty is palpable
My heart leaps with joy
My mind solidly fixed in the emptiness of this vast land
The turquoise and aqua green braids of water
Glacier milk
Green rivers
Cool clear streams
Shimmering lakes
The pulsing life blood…water.
The glaciers hold still and fast to the craggy folds
Slowly receding back into the hollow canyons.
The icy blue fingers relenquishing their grip.
Water cascading down
Wisps of white showers
Pooling and spilling over the deep crevasses cut into solid stone.
The roar deafening.
A cahcaufony of sounds
The shrill chatters of the squirrel
Titter of the titmouse
Squawk of grey jays
Call of the raven
Piercing cry of the eagle
Whisper of the wind
Rush of the stream.
The sun…
streaming down from the most stunning blue sky.
Warming
Inviting
Soothing
Clouds hanging free
Heavy black
Wispy white
Outlined in gold and chartreuse as the sun exits and night slips in behind.
Hews of purple
blue and green
paint the sky
A vast inky black sky
awash with stars
Galaxies
Nebulas
Planets
Endlessness.
I drift off to sleep
Part of this natural world
Part of the intricacy of life
Rapid Changes
Today I woke up to 41 degrees in the van…who knows what it is outside. With everything we need in our little capsule of steel and rubber, there’s no big rush to go outside and find out.
The sun is making its way into the sky, creeping slowly from behind the snow capped peeks, but has yet to shine on the opposing peeks across the river valley.
Our camp last night was right beside the Matanuska River, surrounded by Alders, sporting their new yellow fall colors, Drayas, also in showy white tops, and Fireweed that has lost its towers of red flowers and turned to tangled white silky seedpods. The mountains surrounding this valley are topped with snow from the thunder storms 2 nights ago, accenting the harsh, craggy peeks.
Yesterday, we drove up from Ninilchik to the Russian River Ferry crossing and joined the throngs of fisher people hoping to catch a nice coho salmon, or at least hook into one of the giant red sockeye on the Kenai River. These fish are huge! As your standing in the water, these fish are lined up, heading upstream. Every now and then, one will breech the surface slowly or jump out of the river all together. With your concentration on your line and indicator, this is quite alarming at first, but soon becomes the norm and you settle in to the rhythm of casting.
It’s time to begin our month long procession east then south, out of Alaska, into Canada, and finally, the lower 48. Time to say good-bye to the wildness of this beautiful land, where it is easy to forget your worries, clear your mind, and refresh your inner most being. To the fresh, crisp, cool air, the bears, moose, squirrels, seagulls ravens and bald eagles, all etched firmly into my mind, a sorrowful good-bye. A fond farewell to the mountains and glaciers, turquoise rivers and milky white glacial streams and waterfalls, thousands of lakes and fiords. To leave behind the thousands of miles of pot-holed, wavy, and frost heaved roads of dirt and tar.
Although the journey has not ended just yet…we’ve traveled almost 6,000 miles since Salt Lake City. We’ve driven on almost every road in Alaska, been from the Continental divide (Antigun Pass) to Lands End (Homer). We’ve traveled by ferry along the Inside Passage between Juneau, Skagway and Haines. Took a wild ride down the Tatshinini and Alsek Rivers, played with icebergs and bergy-bits. We’ve had our share of bear encounters, some too close for comfort. I’d say it’s been a wild and encompassing ride for sure with still more to come.
A Myriad of Emotions
We’ve just returned from an amazing Canada/Alaska River trip down the Tatshashini and Alsek Rivers, down into Alsek Lake and take out at Dry Bay. The whole trip took 13 days plus travel time of another 13 days to Haines, Alaska.
Although the river trip was not on our bucket list, traveling around western Canada and Alaska was. The river trip became the catalyst for this new chapter in our adventure.
As we sat in Bali, melting from the oppressive humidity, we realized our travel in the blazing sun, and blazing kindness of its people, needed to come to an end. We had covered much of SE Asia in a 4 month period: countries like Singapore, Thailand, Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, Korea, Indonesia, and Malaysia. It was an other-worldly experience, and touched both of us deeply…but our bodies were screaming for a break from the heat.
We found ourselves thinking of very cold places, Antarctica, Iceland, Alaska, Patagonia. Big dreams of cooler temps, zero humidity, even some of our old haunts just didn’t excite us. When Chris saw the Facebook post from Bio-Bio River Expeditions, for a trip down the beautiful Tatshashini/Alsek Rivers. Pictures of rafts floating around stunning blue icebergs grabbed both of us by our sweaty hands and led us down the rabbit hole. This was it!
So we set off on planning to see if we could make this happen. We picked up a Sprinter Revel Van, outfitted it for the arduous trip, bought the necessary clothing and secured a seat for us on the trip.
The drama began with seeing the expensive nature of this undertaking. We bought the van because renting a van or RV was exorbitant. Then came my tummy health issue, then the breakdown of the van as we set out. We made it to Skagway, caught the ferry to Haines and settled in a few days before the trip and one more hiccup, Chris broke her tooth and needed an emergency appointment with the only dentist in town. All that was now water under the bridge, no pun intended, as we suited up in supplied dry suits and met our group.
The next morning was glorious, sun shinning, smiles all around. An amazing feeling of joy and a bit of trepidation hit me as we stood on the river bank, red dry tops, blue dry pants and insulated black and brown mud boots, red life jackets cinched up tight. Within an hour or so, we came to our first splashy wave trains, one finding its way into my dry suit, chilling me and reminding me to hold on.
Camp was always beautiful and we scrabbled to find a level, clear area for our tents. After a few days, the tents became a pain in the ass! They were short and squatty, making entering and exiting very difficult without crawling on hands and knees across wet, rocky ground. The sleeping bags were warm and cozy…bonus!
There is just so much running through my mind when I think of the days on the river itself. Once in a while we were asked to paddle, sometimes to help propel the rafts, other times just to stave off the cold chills of the cold rain and biting winds blowing downstream. We all looked like a blue rubber basket of Easter eggs, as we curled up in tight balls to conserve heat. Some days presented with sun and a promise of grand vistas and windless travel. These days would take your breath away as around each river bend, new wonders appeared. It was somewhat difficult to figure out how to layer under the dry suits, but no matter when we left shore, dressed like small children going out to make snowmen, we soon were adding or removing layers…from hot to cold and back to hot if you were lucky, but little in between.
Camp life was usually pleasant, except when the mosquitoes would swarm. The weekend before we arrived at Purple Haze camp, there had been 6” of rain in a 24 hour period, probably why we had wind and rain further upstream. This rain awakened the veracious insects. Black flies and mosquitos topped the ticket. These tiny, or not so tiny in the case of some mosquitoes, will drive you mad! We were lucky that only a few camps seemed to be utterly infested with the biting menaces, and happy they were only one night stays. Everyone adorned head-nets and deet was the preferred perfume of the evenings meal. Dessert was passed on as we all ran for the shelter of our squatty little tents and played the game of smash the rouge mosquito that found its way into the tent, it only takes one of these little bastards to drive you batty.
Alaska has its beauty and also is a harsh environment. It is not for the faint of heart. True Alaskan wilderness is not forgiving and should be entered with caution and care. On the last day, we found out that our pilot had gone missing with 2 others the day before. Due to the search, no plane was coming to get us. These were seasoned veterans of this Alaska wilderness and its small communities that depended on their services. Tragedy and grief is not an emotion I thought I’d experience on this trip.
I can’t tell you if I was ready for the myriad of emotions I went through but in the end…it was an experience of a lifetime and one that will be remembered. Alaska is wild, natural, stunningly beautiful, incredibly demanding and deadly.
Tatshashini River, Canada: Day One
I slept well last night even though I had some butterflies starting. 6:30am was our wake up time but neither of us made it that far. I woke up with a bit of a nervous stomach and it took a while for me to choke down some food but eventually I had talked enough that I began to settle down.
We woke to some sunny skies with just a hint of dark clouds draped high in the mountains. It seemed we had caught a break in the weather. At around 9am, we all piled in the van and set off for the river. The van ride took about an hour and a half, at best guess, since I retired my Apple Watch last night. The scenery was amazing…as always. We crossed the border from Alaska back into the Yukon about 45 miles from Haines.
It’s hard to put words to the depths of the greens covering the mountain sides. When the sun hits the trees the mountains glitter like big green emeralds surrounded in the most true blue sky and skillfully formed white clouds. Snow is draped in the crevasses like garlands on a tree. A wide river valley full of cobble stones and glacier melt full of streams and big rivers, lies between the road we are on and the mountain range.
The rain started again. In the distant canyon, a huge rainbow appeared as the sheets of rain funneled down from the mountain tops. We all took it as a sign. For the next half hour we drove in and out of the rain showers until the sun shown through the last of the black heavy clouds. Perhaps the rainbow was a sign.
We cut off on a steep, muddy dirt road and finally arrived at the river…but not before a bear decided to mozie on down the road in front of us. He reminded me of Gandaulf as he shook his boodie as he walked down the road like a runway model shaking his ass.
Arriving at the river, the guides were busily rigging the rafts. We were suited up, given a life jacket and a paddle, given the safety protocol talk and we were assigned boats and set off.
We were provided with dry paddle suits, top and bottoms, and top quality. The boats were 18’ NRS boats with extra large tubes. Two to a boat plus a guide. We got Carly the only woman guide. Queer thing, the participants are all women! Not planned in any way. All have experience on rivers all over the world, like Chris and I.
Over all, the river was gorgeous! Fast moving current propelled by fast glacier and snow melt. The rapids were quite plentiful, but we deliberately missed the wave trains as much as possible. The first wave that broke over the boat into my lap and down my dry suit was a quick and cold reminder why. The river runs in the high 30s to 40 degrees Fahrenheit. “When the wind blows,” as Andy, the lead guide said, “it’s like a fan blowing over an ice cube.”
Our first camp is situated on a stone bar on the right side of the river. The sun plays games with us and our comfort level. When it is out, it warms up quickly, so you take off a layer, then the wind blows off the river and you put a layer on. Hell, I’d had already met my fitness goals just from wardrobe changes. Today was a good trial for how to layer and how difficult it is to take one off or put one on.
Time for dinner and a well deserved nights sleep.
Crossing borders
It’s been 12 days since we left Salt Lake City. Twelve days of constant driving, sleeping, hiking and driving some more. Yesterday, we crossed from Canada into Alaska. The grandeur of the views before us just kept getting more and more grand as we pushed through the rolling hills, and back to the Great Northern Rocky Mountains.
White Pass was a long mountainous pass with switchbacks and craggy glacier choked peaks jutting up from the valleys…with rivers flowing out of these behemoths in cascading waterfalls. Scattered snow melt lakes dotted the landscape, each with its own color of blue, green or milky white. The subalpine trees sprung up from rocky out crops and random high spots, stunted by the harsh winter months and many feet of snow. Small creatures darted from tree to tree, outcropping to outcropping. Birds flitted from tree to tree, with some doing crazy mid-air acrobatics, chasing insects we can’t see.
We exited the ALCAN Highway in Tagish, connecting with the Klondike Highway for our last push into Skagway, Alaska. The history along this stretch of road dates way back to the late 1800s when the gold rush took over this part of Canada and Alaska. The Tlingit people trapped this harsh land for survival. The Russians came to harvest what they could from the gold rich mountain streams and lakes and to buy pelts from the Tlingit people.
In 1942, the Alaska Highway was being completed which brought more and more people into the small villages and allowed for stores, saloons and hotels to spring up creating a booming mercantile market that allowed for easy sale of pelts and goods needed for gold mining. All this collapsed as the gold dried up. The roads to the villages still remained so the Tlingit continued to occupy the infrastructure that remained and created a lucrative trading business of beaver, lynx, bobcat and other large game animal hides. They supplied gas to westward travelers in their fancy new cars, a place to sleep and eat. Some of these towns, such as Dyea, have streets and street name signs, but the buildings have long since returned to the earth. Only trees, pictures on posts, and a boreal forest stand where the buildings once did. It is left to the imagination once again.
We chose to stay in the historic district/town of Dyea last night and tonight. Our camp sits on a tidal river. We learned that there are 22 different species of mosquito in Alaska, and I think we encountered half of them. A strong breeze did keep the rest of them away. We were entertained by a couple of bald eagles hunting on the tidal flats. We were not so amused by the little chipmunks that thought it would be fun to get up under the hood and strip some felt insulation off an intake for the fresh air by digging it off fuzzy piece by fuzzy piece. We decided to tape the shit out of it to prevent any more marauding.
Today we packed up, went into town, and got showers at the Skagway Rec Center…much needed. You can pay $10 and stand under all the hot water you want! They even provide towels…bonus. Now all clean and wearing clean clothes, we are going to “paint the town” of Skagway.
Stone Mountain, Summit Lake, BC, Canada
We’ve got under 500 miles to go before our turnoff to Skagway. Today’s been a long slog across rolling hills and thickly forested landscape. The rain came down heavy almost from the time we hit the road. The burn scars became more and more prevalent as we came up to Fort Nelson, which is where you finally turn WNW towards Alaska.
It is incredible how straight roads can be. The roads are just tar strips atop a berm built up to aide in run off. These ribbons of black go for miles on end, or perhaps more fitting, kilometers on end, cut through a huge swath of trees. This is by design I’m guessing, to avoid vehicle big game accidents. I’ve heard a story of a guy who watched an elk and calf bolt out of the thick forest and straight across the road in front of him. He didn’t see the bear chasing them until he slammed in his brakes to avoid a deadly collision with it.
There are mystery roads all over. Dirt roads that just veer off into the thick vegetation. No signage and no squiggly line on the gps. Sometimes you can see a river or a lake as you blast by, but other times they just go into the darkness.
Provençal parks in Canada, are like our state parks in the USA. They are dotted all over the map with no real rhyme or reason. Tonight we are at about 4200 feet/1280m. We just got back into the northern Rockies. The horizon changed radically from rolling hills to steep passes and snow capped jagged mountains. We picked a place called Stone Mountain Provençal Park and Summit Lake Campground. Had the weather cooperated, we could’ve blown up our pack rafts and paddled around for hours exploring the coves and shoreline. Perhaps in the morning, the sun will grace us with its shining face and we can start the day off with a paddle.
June 30, 2024: Mile Zero Alaska/Canada Highway
We took a break from travel today. 2 nights in the same place…yay! We managed to push through Idaho and Montana to burn the miles we had to in order to get caught up on our travel itinerary to Skagway, Alaska.
Canada has been just as beautiful as I remembered. Towering mountain ranges, frozen solid in ice and snow older than I can imagine. Huge glaciers clung to the rocky cliffs and high mountain valleys and passes. Rivers of aqua green and olive, lakes of turquoise, icy waters as clear as glass. Shear cliffs of curved and bent rock from the beginning of the earth. Further north west, turning into an undulating green valleys slowly rolling to a high peak and back down the other side. Scars of forest fires that scorch the land and leave the once majestic towering pines like burnt matchsticks.
Willow is performing brilliantly. We’ve had quite a bit of rain since we crossed into Canada. Last night we sprung a leak from our fan, I’m guessing from driving sheets of rain. It stopped as the rain tapered off. We’re settling back into van life after a pretty rocky start. But this I can tell you…our bed is super comfy, a bit of a pain in the ass to make each day but so cozy. Weather permitting, we will do more home cooking in the van. We’ve just been a bit hurried to this point.
And here we go again…
Van Life: Part Two
As many of you already know…we came back from SE Asia on April 1, and began to plan our next adventures. We have always planned no more than a few weeks in the future. We’ve always done hours of research, blogs, travel tour itineraries, FB and IG pages; there’s just so much information to be found. Our next destination was to be Alaska and Canada.
While sitting in our hotel room in Bali, we began our research and found it very depressing how much it might cost to: A) rent a car or B) rent a van or motor coach. We had just about put the whole idea to bed when we thought about Andrew, the best man at our wedding and a wholesale car dealer in California. ‘Why not’, we thought, ask Andrew if we could browse the auctions and buy a van! It sounded like a great idea and no sooner did we ask, a Sprinter van showed up at an auction in LA, that was exactly what we were hoping for.
It was extremely low priced for what it was, a stock Revel 4×4 with 3,000 miles. After much research, phone calls at 2am Bali time, we decided to go for it, and bought the van. The auction had announced that it was stuck in 4wd low and would need to be towed to the dealer. Still under factory warranty, we decided the risk was small that a 3,000 mile Sprinter would have any major issues caused by improper use, so we scheduled an appointment with the dealer. Turned out to be user error, got her out of 4wd low by pushing a button.
Chris decided that she was going to fly to Los Angeles and drive the van back, and so 2 days after arriving back to Salt Lake, she was back on a plane and driving the van back. I would stay behind and manage our house/pet sit in Salt Lake City.
We spent the next 2 months making small but expensive modifications to the van. Suspension, sound system, bed mattress, additional storage boxes and additional water tank. We took her out a few times to the desert to make sure to work out any kinks and get a “feel” for how the space was set up for living. We finished our last house /pet sit, and loaded up the van, and set out for Canada and Alaska.
It was nice to be back on the road again. Back in a van and free. The only thing was we were basically driving through Canada and Alaska during high season and in a few places had to make reservations for camping. This does the very thing we try never to do…put us on a time schedule. We had to be in Haines Alaska by July 10th for an epoch river trip down the Tatshenshini and Alsek rivers than run the border between Canada and Alaska.
We got a bit of a late start. The van was loaded up, fluids checked, water tank full, plenty of groceries and “add water food” and clothes to cover heat to icy cold. Things had found their place in the van, all systems were go, so off we went…but we didn’t get far.
Cruising up the freeway, about 2 hours into our trip, outside of Idaho Falls, in the middle of soy beans and wheat fields, the van decided to throw a bunch of codes, the dashboard told us to pull over and shut off the engine immediately! So we did. We got out and put some reflective triangles behind the van. Bummed out, sitting on the side of the road, we called Mercedes roadside assistance and sat in the heat of the blazing evening sun waiting for a tow…back to where we came from.
I had deduced just from looking under the van that the serpentine belt, the main belt that drives all the charging and engine cooling, had shredded. The van only had less than 6,000 miles and was barely 2 years old?!? It turned out to be a warranty issue and 6 days later, we were back on the road.
Running days behind schedule we hit the road, again a late start, and boogied north. Nice thing about traveling in a van, you are completely self contained, so you can find a dirt road and follow it until you find a glorious secluded clearing, pull in, and go to sleep. That’s exactly what we did after 5 hours of driving, the last 2 with the sun glaring through the smashed bug guts on the window.
Day two: we woke to the early morning sun, warming the chilled night air. There was a huge lake outside our doors with families of Canadian geese strutting around its banks and little goslings splashing at the edge of the water. A lone cottonwood trees stood stately in the middle of the field. Just us and the geese. We took off after a bit of food and turning the van back around for travel. This requires making the bed so it can be raised up to the ceiling and freeing up the “closet” or “garage”, where our clothes and gear are stacked and organized neatly. The front two seats swivel to allow extra space and seating while parked. Window covering removed and stowed away. Counter tops cleared and cabinets doors closed and latched.
The next four hours we drove along the Beaverhead Mountains and the Bitterroot. Our destination was Whitefish Montana, to visit some dear friends that also enjoy van travel. We actually met them when we had our dealership. They owned a 2003 VW Westfalia and needed to sell it to buy and build new Sprinter conversion vans. Salt Lake Imports, or “The girls”, as we were known, came up in their search. We sold their van in a flash and became close friends.
We pulled into Whitefish at just around 6:30. Our friend suggested we go to the town square for some local live music and the food trucks, I just relished the thought of sitting in the grass, barefoot grounding myself back into the earth. Van life is usually a bit more relaxing, but with loosing 6 days we had ground to cover and fast. Our visit was short but we caught up in her kids and the sale of the house, her new business and our recent, year long EU and SE Asia trip. We still had an hour of driving to get to the border town of Eureka.
June 26, 2024, we crossed the Canadian border.
Two Travelin' Chicas... 