Holy Shit! We finally made it to Fairbanks Alaska in our little fiberglass bubble. I was beginning to think that the road would never end. That traveling along the Alaska/Canadian Highway was some kind of Twlight Zone plot where a small group of travelers traveled on and on forever on a road that
just never ended.
just never ended.
"And did they ever return? No they never returned, they just chugged along forever in land that just
gets bigger, and bigger."
gets bigger, and bigger."
Don't get me wrong, I have enjoyed it all, the green, green hills and green fields, the rivers, the lakes, the mountains. Wow! All the pictures in the brochures weren't lying, they just couldn't get the real immensity of it all in the pictures. Nor did I really understand the time and the "slowness" in travel to get it all in. We rode a bicycle through northern Europe some years ago and at one point I got a bit down on how slow we were going because there was a side walk cafe, or a bakery, or a castle or a garden to photograph and Kamala had to say, " Look where we're at! We're in Europe, and you're worried about speed of travel." Well this trip has been like that. We've been taking our time and that in hindsight we should have been taking even more time. If you're coming up to Alaska in a RV, TAKE YOUR TIME.. The sheer size and beauty of this adventure is definitely, trully awesome.
Now, I'm not a big one on museums, historical reinactments, or those Disneyish type amusements that lead to a gift shop and there are certainly plenty of those if that's your thing (A whole town with Christmasey names and a Gift shop an acre in size, done well, but COME ON, Christmas all year long? --Am I a grench?) The thing I've enjoyed is the subtle changes in the landscapes, the forests, and the people who, by the way, speak very good English, even the Canadians. How many tumbling rivers or snow capped mountain ranges can you see without getting blown away. Wel, I'm working on it.
I know after years of traveling on a bicycle and now pulling a small travel trailer around the country that the best stories are usually born of hardship. Something like the tornado the found you lying in the ditch, a malfunction of your wheels, flats, mosquitos the size of crows. Well, sorry, I've got none of that stuff. Our little Casita has performed wonderfully (being covered in mud doesn't really make a good story unless it somehow sidelined you and it has not gotten that way yet.
So I started a blow-by-blow, turn-by-turn travelogue about this trip. But if I were reading that as if someone else wrote it, I would go to sleep. We have done the toursity route this trip. We have looked at and been overwhelmed with the travel brochures of what to do and where to go. We've gone to the Royal Tyrell museum in the Canadian Badlands. We've gone to the largest mall in North America. This has been good. But in the end it is about the beauty. What can I say about pure breaking-taking beauty? How many times can I say beautiful? The Yukon put it all in perspective. The pure poetry of vision. The sheer vastness, empty of people, filled with wilderness, endless wilderness, wild--ness. Wild. With wildlife so plentiful they spill over onto roadways so we can conveniently take pictures. The trip is not over yet. We're leaving Fairbanks tomorrow. Truly the land of the midnight sun. I write this with sun streaming into my Casita's window at 9:30 at night. I know that it will continue to shine and only begin to set around 12:30 am. Extra energy flows through my veins. It's hard to give it up. Light energy. We head south slowly to Anchorage tomorrow. More beauty to fill my vision, my memories. What's better than beauty? It is to be able to share it with someone you love, and friends you love.
There is a bit of delay posting this so we are now in Denali National park campground. There are two other Casitas in this particular campground loop. We have seen two other Casitas and two Scamps on the long road. We have been sighted by three Casita owners. One in Montana who drove up to us and jokingly said, "You have our trailer!" The other owner was in the Yukon. He was driving an antique car up from Seattle. He ambled over and asked us how we liked our Casita. Of course we told him that we loved it! The other owner was at our first campground in Alaska. She didn't have her Casita with her but was tagging along with her friend and met her through introductions at a Ranger presentation. She was tickled to finally meet someone from the Casita forums.