I hear you rustling under the covers and I turn to feel your wet nose tap my warm nose, time to get up. You wiggle with glee when I sit up, almost unable to contain your joy. As if to say, yea my humans are up! I wipe the tiredness from my eyes and stretch to greet the day. It’s only 7:20 and already you want to play but more pressing, only after you eat. You pick up your plastic bowl, full of teeth marks from other reminders and demands of feeding. I smile as you stare deeply into my eyes, head turning from side to side, as if you are trying to pick my good side. I laugh again, and pull out your bag of kibble and you begin to twirl like a dervish, only you are fixated on the food filling your bowl. As I pick up the bowl, you whirl and twirl and roll over. Tiny taps fill the room as your claws struggle for a purchase on the slick hard wood. I set the bowl down, and like a ravenous beast you gobble down every kibble, inhaled as if it were your last meal. I go about making myself some hot coffee then settle back into my overstuffed armchair. The sun has begun to shine through the stained glass window, as it does every morning, casting a showy barrage of colors throughout the room. It’s my favorite time of day.
Not long after I’m done my coffee, I look around to find you again, curled up on your small bed, satiated from your morning meal. As soon as I stand, you’re at my feet again, signaling with your head that it’s time for your walk. I glance out the window at the day unfolding, decide on my favorite faded jeans, my raggedy old sweatshirt and my favorite hightop converse. This should do for the chill of the early fall morning, I think to myself. I dress myself and slide over to the door where you are patiently waiting, leash in tow, your entire backend wagging from side to side. Again, the tiny taps of your claws on the hardwood, but this time the metallic clink of your tags fills my ears. I feel a lump begin to form in my throat. I reach down and hear the click as I fasten the leash to your collar. I fight back a tear as I open the door, blinded by the low angle of the morning sun. The cool crisp air greets me and snaps me from my vision. I look down at my hands, holding an empty leash. I spin around and look at the full bowl of kibble sitting on the floor. I stand in the doorway, the room is silent, awash with colors, but silent and empty.
It’s been over a year since you’ve been gone. I still live some days this way. The routine we had for over 13 years. I still hear the sounds I will always associate with you. I am still haunted by your smell, your wet nose on mine. It’s like I’ve been frozen in time, a loop I’m unable to exit from. I wipe back the tears that have now filled my eyes, blurring the room into a kaleidoscope of undefined colors. My heart beats slow and my breath measured. I place the leash back on its hook and close the door. Today I walk alone.
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.
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.
We are flying at 12000’ above the ice choked mountain tops of Glacier Bay, Alaska. Whenever the clouds part, we all crane our necks looking for a small airplane. The search continues today for the missing pilot and we have become part of the search, as anyone flying today.
We found out the rest of the story today from our taxi driver, Jax. She explained how loved and revered these 3 people were, an integral part of the community here in SE Alaska. Samuel, or Sam, was a seasoned pilot that loved the community and flying. Tanya and Hans, also in the missing plane, were also stand up members of the community. Hans provided air transportation to rafting companies, anglers, hunters and commuting people to other bigger cities around SE Alaska.
According to our taxi driver, the three had just attended a wedding in Haines and were on their way back to Yukatat when the plane went missing off radar around the Fairweather Range, a location of vast mountains and glaciers, rugged and beautiful.
Sam used to play Uncle Sam in Haines’ 4th of July parade. Hans and Tanya had been together forever and were integral members of this small tight knit community. The admiration and sadness, coming through Jax’s voice as she recanted memories. The entire atmosphere of Juneau, Haines, Yukatat and Dry Bay, has grown solemn as the search was called off due to bad weather. Planes have been grounded as a fog and rain blanket the coastal area again.
This weekend is the county fair in Haines. I’m sure that the revelry will be quelled by the loss of these three.
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.
Skagway
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.
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.
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.
It’s been 2 months since we left the most peaceful, kind and giving part of the world.
We left Utah on June 1, 2020, as the world fell apart with COVID-19. We took off in our 2015 Ford Transit Van which we had spent the previous year preparing and building out the inside to serve as our home on the road. We chose the van life primarily for Gandaulf, since he was getting a bit too old to travel abroad via airplanes. It also was the safest way we could see the western US, with thousands of people dying everyday from this horrible disease.
It was hard at first to adjust to a small living space, but in actuality it was to be mainly for escaping weather and sleeping. Cooking, showering and all other “living” were done outside. Chris, Gandaulf, and I communing with Mother Nature at the most intimate of levels. Soon we became one with the ebb and flow of the days, enjoying hikes, bike rides, kayaking, campfires, sitting in silence, and living carefree. We spent the year touring Utah, Wyoming, Idaho, Arizona, Southern California, Montana and headed into Baja, Mexico for February through April of 2021.
Now, life on the road is not all fun and games. There’s a lot of lifting, bending, crawling on the ground, maintenance and things we always took for granted such as, finding potable water for our tanks. At times, we’d get a hotel room just to stand under an unlimited amount of hot water. We never planned too far ahead, usually two weeks out was good, but we always had direction. We had the freedom to follow brown signs to some new location we’d never been. There were breakdowns and even a dead mouse somewhere in the van that caused a week and a half of serious woes while in Canada.
Gotta find the mouse
In August of 2021, the border to Canada opened. We spent the previous summer in the Montana back country, hoping the border would open to no avail. This time we were ready and packed up and headed for Canada but this trip ended sooner than planned due to illness in the family. We made it as far as Jasper, AB and turned around to be with family during this time. In January of 2022, while preparing for another winter in Baja, Mexico, we lost both our little sister and Dad within a day of each other. We hung out in Salt Lake to help with the arrangements and to make sure that everyone was back on their feet. In March, 2022, we headed back out towards New Mexico and Arizona, then up to Idaho for the fall. October 2022 through January 2023, we headed down the west coast Highway 1, slowly making our way towards Baja, Mexico to spend another glorious winter.
January 30, 2023, as we were preparing to cross into Baja, Mexico, the call came that stopped us in our tracks. Forced to return to Salt Lake City, Utah, we packed up the van, mid-winter, and headed 700 miles north into the grips of the cold. We spent time at our girlfriend’s AirBnB until we found a new owner for the one ball and chain left in our life, our commercial property. After 3 months of winter, we watched the Spring bloom and the snow melt away. On March 21, 2023, the first day of Spring, we lost our 13 year old corgi, Gandaulf to dementia and pain. It was more than either of us could bear. On one hand we were free now to travel outside of the US, but what fun would it be without our little sidekick? What’s true is that life was still moving on with or without us, so we sold the van, the side by side ATV and trailer, gave away Gandaulf’s toys and food, and bought a one way ticket to Europe May 11, 2023.
Austria
Our travels the next 7 months took us to Ireland, Scotland, Portugal including 2 Azore islands, Germany, Austria, Spain, Croatia, Montenegro, Bosnia, and Cyprus. We flew back to Salt Lake City for two weeks to resupply and move our clothes over to backpacks which was much more suited for the SE Asia countries and islands we planned to visit next.
IrelandST Miguel, AzoresNorthern CyprusMadeira, Portugal
Europe was an amazing eye opener. First off, everything, it seemed, was uphill. Streets were built to provide one car safe passage and turn outs for passing. There was an exorbitant amount of indiscriminate cigarette smoking…EVERYWHERE! The European people seemed cold and in their own worlds. The inn keepers were friendly enough, but it was their job, not always genuine. The ancient cities and architecture were incredibly beautiful. The history fascinated us. The US is so young in comparison. Kings, queens, armies, witches, sorcerers, jesters, common people and their animals, all strolled around the walled cities commonly found in most countries we visited. In my mind’s eye, I could picture the period costumes on the droves of people mingling in squares, sipping tea and coffee in sidewalk cafes. There is still so much to see and I am sure we will return soon to cover a few more countries there.
MontenegroJohn O’Groats, ScotlandEdinburgh
On November 18, 2023, we left for an undetermined amount of time in SE Asia. We had a tour for 45 days that was to cover Thailand, Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia. Again, as in Europe, we were taken back by the history and ancient cities and buildings. The culture was mind blowing! Everywhere you looked, were statues of the Buddha, Vishnu, dragons, snakes, and other spiritual and mythical creatures bearing strong androgynous characteristics. Some half animal half human. The people were genuinely kind in nature, respectful and giving. Their lives were simple and they seemed content. They took care of family, strays, and less fortunate souls. Their religion was not just saved for the weekend, but visible in every aspect of daily life. Kindness abounded.
After our tour, we chose to spend two more months in Thailand, island hopping. We hit Koh Lanta, Koh Phi Phi, Koh Ngai, Koh Kradan, Koh Talabeng, Koh Muk, and Koh Lipe. Each island had its own unique charm with one common denominator…the native islanders. All in all our time in Thailand will always be remembered.
Our next stop took us to Singapore and this small countries’ towering highrises, well thought out freeways and the intelligent use of green spaces. It’s a modern metropolis at the tip end of a peninsula. It was a beautiful but very busy country that seems, from flying in, to be just a piece of land with millions of towering buildings. It has every modern technology incorporated into the infrastructure. It was quite a cool place to spend a few days. We also spent a few days in Langkawi, a small island in Indonesia, then took the leap into Malaysia and Bali, Indonesia.
Bali ended our SE Asia tour. We spent a month touring with our personal driver, Dek Udi. We had a really hard time with the humidity and heat so it was imperative to be around water. We met some of the most interesting and kind people who genuinely took an interest in us and our journey. Soon it was time to leave this incredible island and make our way back to the states for our next big adventure.
