Iowa to Alaska and back

[JMacs]

As my age gets closer to the half century mark, I realize my memories are starting to fade. It is time to put down some of my adventures in print before they are lost forever. I also had my old slides digitized. So, pardon the poor quality of the pictures. Some are a bit more faded than others. Anyway, enjoy the story.

This adventure happened back in 1990. A friend and I decided it would be a good idea to drive from Iowa to Alaska. I found out that a girl I knew in junior high, Trisha, moved from Iowa to Anchorage her freshman year of high school. 6 years later, her best friend, Lisa, moves to Boulder to go to college at the same time I moved to Boulder to do the same. Lisa and I meet and realize we have a mutual friend, Trisha. Amazed at the small world we live in, she invites me to come up sometime and visit. It was an offer I couldn't refuse.

Reason #2 to go, they recently opened up the Dalton Highway to the public. We could make it north of the Arctic Circle!! The pipeline access road was now a public highway.

It didn't take much convincing to recruit my best friend, Collin, to join me in this adventure. We had traveled together on much smaller and less ambitions trips. We had biked across Iowa 3 times on RAGBRAI. Why couldn't we make this happen. So full of youthful energy and exuberance, and low on funds, we started our planning. It was January. We would leave at the end of July. Give ourselves the summer to save up some cash. And at age 20, how much did we really need.

Our vehicle would be a 1984 Toyota Celica with 90,000 miles on it. It was a Toyota, what could go wrong. We had grand plans to put a slight lift on it, skid plates, driving lights... Just like the rally cars of the day. Well, as the summer wore on, and the funds never really accumulated, that all stayed exactly like it was, a great dream. The only modification we did get done was a full size spare. (Remember "youthful energy and exuberance" can easily get distracted by chasing girls and having fun over the summer.).

Planning and routing did get further along. We picked up the Milepost, contacted the Alaska Board of Tourism, got as many AAA books and maps as they had. That pretty much exhausted most of the resources we could find. The library had one or two books that were of limited use. There was no internet. There was no GPS to buy. Good enough for us. (Back to the "youthful energy an exuberance").

Packing day was here. We started with the essentials: tent, sleeping bags, Coleman dual fuel, small stash of canned chili, tuna fish, ramen, case of Coke, bucket of home-made chocolate chip cookies, peanut butter, and bread. Oh, and 2 boxes of Ding Dongs. We kept packing the back of the car with more things, but decreasing in need. When the level of stuff started to block the view out the back window, it was time to stop.

 

[JMacs]

We decided to bring some cigarettes along too. Neither of us smoked, but it seemed like a good thing to do to pass the time as we drove. And everyone we talked to said that anyone we met in Canada would be grateful to have an American cig. Apparently, the ones they could get were a little on the weak side.

6:00 the next morning we were up and ready to go. The plan was to get up there as quickly as possible, then take our time there and coming back. We had 3 weeks, more or less. Communication to the families would consist of a collect phone call every other day.

We went through Sturges as they were getting prepared for the rally. It was going to be the 50th anniversary. This was before lawyers and accountants started buying Harley's. And before Honda was making the metric cruisers. So having a Toyota there wasn't really the smartest thing for us to do. That's all right, we wanted to put miles under our belts. Our drive wasn't necessarily measured in miles. We started looking at how many folds in the map we crossed, then how many maps we went through. Day 1 concluded somewhere in Montana.

When we were too tired to go any further, we found a wide spot in the road and pulled over. Getting the tent out was going to be too time consuming. So we just put the seats back and fell asleep.

The next morning after watering the dandelions, my friend greeted me with breakfast, a lit cigarette and an open Coke. Back in the car and off again.

Approaching the Canada border, our first test was coming up. Could I keep my inner smart-ass contained? The boarder officials had the reputation of being willing to take your entire car apart if they had any inkling that you had something to hide. As we approached, the one thing that kept going through my mind was the Steven Wright joke. “When the border patrol asked if I had any drugs, alcohol, or firearms, I responded ‘What do you need?’ “

We passed through with only a slight smirk on my face. Passed test number one.

 

[JMacs]

When we started our journey, we decided we were going to pay if forward as often as the opportunity presented itself. If we saw someone on the side of the road who needed some help, we would stop and see what we could do. Test #2. There was a hitch-hiker. We second guessed ourselves too long and passed him by. Justifying it as that he didn't really need our help, just a ride, we were O.K.

Around lunch time, we came upon a bar with a big porch wrapping around the building and the smell of grilling burgers. Looks perfect. Getting out and walking up, we were greeted by a big friendly local, "How you guys doing there, eh?" Collin and I looked at each other, "Were Bob and Doug Mackenzie up here filming a second movie?"

Sitting there eating our burgers, we remembered you can buy beer at age 20 in Canada. Two thumbs up!! So we grabbed a case of bottles and headed back out.

About an hour later, we see that same hitch hiker riding in the back of a pickup. Still feeling guilty for not picking him up earlier, we decide that giving him a beer would help ease our consciences. We pull up behind him and tried to get his attention. We were trying to be subtle and catch his eye without having the driver think we want him to pull over. Despite all of our hand waving, he was too preoccupied enjoying the scenery. Screw it, "pass them, but try and get close to the truck as you go" I tell my friend. As we get closer, I lean as far out my window as I can with a beer in hand. The happy hitch hiker finally notices me and the beer. He scrambles over to the side of the truck and sticks out his hand. I pass him the beer and we are on our merry way. I am sure he had no idea that we had passed him by earlier that day. All he knew was some crazy kid just gave him a beer as they were doing 60 down the highway. We had come up with our own extra credit to pass Test #2.

 

[JMacs]

Even when you are trying to put in as many miles as you can, there are certain things you just can't pass up. The "Head Smashed In Buffalo Jump" was one. The local Native American tribe had built a museum / interpretive center at this specific site. The story is about a young Brave. He had watched the older tribesmen herd the bison and force them to jump off this cliff to their death. (Seems a little safer to me than trying to shoot them with a bow and arrow.). The young Brave thought it would be neat to watch the bison fall off the cliff from below. Well, he picked a spot on the cliff a little too close to the bottom. As he watched the bison "cascade in front of him like a waterfall", they piled up to where he was. One of the bison bounced off the growing pile and hit the boy, smashing his head in. The scenery around the center was pretty, but nothing out of the ordinary. The museum was nice. The t-shirt I bought is truly unique.

Later that day, we came across our first, true, damsel in distress. We pulled over to see what we could do. She had already contacted a tow truck and was waiting for him to show up. We offered to drive her back to her apartment and she accepted. For our trouble, she offered us dinner. We happily accepted. Home cooked meal beats canned chili anytime. After dinner she offered to let us sleep in her living room since it was getting a little too late to get out of town and find a camp site. We could tell she felt a little uncomfortable about having a couple of strange young men spend the night in her living room. We politely declined and wished her a good evening.

Sometime after the sun went down, we came across another vehicle with their hazards on. We stopped to see what was going on. They had the hood up trying to figure out why the engine had just stopped running. It was turning over with no problem. We all poked at this. Shook that. Twisted something else. Nothing seemed to be wrong. Then after a while, it started back up. None of us had any clue why it had stopped. Or what we had done to make it start again. But it was running. Since we were heading the same direction, we offered to follow them. If it stopped again, we would give them a ride the rest of the way to their house. About 15 minutes later, they pulled off to the side of the road. We pulled up next to them, but the truck was still running. They leaned out their window and said, "My wife just rolled the last of our stash. Do you want it for helping us out?" I didn't smoke, but I wasn't stupid. We took it. They felt comfortable enough to go on home without us tagging along any more. We smiled, wished them well, and went on our merry way.

It was an overcast night. No moon or stars though the clouds. Out in the middle of nowhere, it was pitch black. You could see nothing outside of your headlights. Seemed like a good time to enjoy the fruits of our Good Samaritan work. Having little to no experience, I had no tolerance built up and was feeling pretty happy pretty quickly. After a bit, we roll over the top of a hill and see flashing red and blues. I slow down a bit, check the speedometer to make sure I am not doing anything wrong. The flashing lights are still a ways ahead of us, so we keep the pace. But we don't gain on them, nor do we lose them. We seem to be keeping pace with them. Again, check the speedometer. We should be either catching up with them if they have stopped someone. Or they should be going away from us if they are trying to get somewhere. My friend asks, "Are you sure we are moving?" "Yeah dude. Really, really fast." And 55 mph seemed really fast to my mind at that time. Finally, we catch up to them. It turns out, the highway maintenance trucks in the area run with red and blue flashing lights. Colors normally reserved for police and fire trucks in the States. Hmm. It is time to get off the road and find a camping spot.

 

[JMacs]

And so the days went on. More miles. More beautiful scenery. Mid-Friday afternoon, we see another older Celica on the side of the road. He had his hood up and was looking a little concerned. The good news for him was the part he needed was just across the border in Alaska. The bad news is the shop was closing in 2 hours and it was about 1:45 drive to get there, if the border crossing goes well. Oh, and the shop wasn't going to be open over the weekend. It is now or next Monday. "Get in and let's see if we can make some time!!" Well, the border crossing started to look a little questionable. The boarder officer had a little concern with someone in the passenger seat we just met. The car is registered to my father. I am in the back seat. And my friend is driving. Might have looked a little better if the driver at least had the same last name as the registration. So off went our licenses and the registration into the office. He wasn't exactly rushing in to help us keep our schedule. Our new friend wasn't in the mood to be patient. He decides to follow the officer into the office. Don't know what he said, but he appeared a couple of minutes later with the licenses and registration. We made it to the parts shop with 5 minutes to spare.

Good Samaritan duties done, we hit the road to Anchorage. We pulled in about 2 am. Probably a little too late to call our old friend. So we slept in the parking lot of a bank turned donut shop. The drive through kiosks were still there. Weren’t sure if the pneumatic tubes still worked to deliver donuts or not. But wouldn’t it have been cool if they did.

 

[billiebob]

so I take it these were film camera pictures, not digital? Love the difference. A big smile as I saw the first one. Vintage pics are always best
and you met my idols, Bob and Doug !!
well written

where was the dual gauge railway?

 

[JMacs]

The next morning, we met up with our friend, Steph. Before we headed off for a couple of days camping with her, we needed to restock, clean the car, and get an oil change. Knowing a local proved to be very helpful. Her favorite car wash guaranteed to get your car clean on one pass. If not, they would send it through a second time for free. They looked pretty nervous when we pulled up. But they lived up to their word and cleaned it in one pass. Next stop was an oil change where her dad’s fleet of vans go for their service. (Turns out to be helpful later.)

We spent the day kickin’ around Anchorage and the surrounding area. Checking out the local places. Towards the end of the evening, Steph noticed that the tide was coming in and it would be a good time to go see if we could see whales in the bay. On the road down, Collin looked over and asked, “Is the oil pressure gauge supposed to drop like that?” Aaaah, nope.

Back at the service shop the next morning, we found out they put on the wrong size of oil filter. Right one on, oil back in, we started to haggle with the shop manager over who should pay for the tow truck. We were pretty confident that they should since it was their screw up. They thought since it was our vehicle that we should pay for it. Steph stepped in and reminded the shop owner that her dad brings in over 10 vehicles to be maintained there on a regular basis. Suddenly he saw it our way.

Issue corrected, Steph added her clothes to the back of our car and we headed south to Homer and Steph’s family camper trailer to spend the next two nights. The next day was spent exploring, hiking, and throwing rocks into the water. The weather was kind of raining, kind of not the whole time. But we didn’t care.

 

[JMacs]

After dropping Steph back at home, we kept heading north. Denali National Park and Mount McKinley were next on our list.

Just outside the park, we saw a white water river rafting shop. “We’re all booked up for the next two weeks. Oh, wait. 2 spots just opened up in the raft that is leaving in 10 minutes. Can you be ready to go in 10?” We were ready in 5.

Back in the parking lot looking for dry clothes to change into, we watched a tour bus unload. I credit the Asian people for getting out and traveling the world. I know everyone is different and beautiful in their own way. But sometimes there are those who just reinforce the stereotype. I swear over half of them got off the bus wearing Hawaiian shirts, 2 cameras around their neck, tourist trap baseball cap and dark sunglasses. (And I know I have seen Americans doing their part to reinforce the stereotype as well.)

The sun rose the next morning and we were off to see if we could make it to the Arctic Circle. Mid morning, we came up on a restaurant / motel that I had heard on the news relatively recently. Except the name was a little different, Skinny ********'s Halfway Inn. Strange, the news called it Skinny Richard's. We were too late for breakfast and too early for lunch. But we did get a t-shirt.

Somewhere we read that about a third of the people in Alaska have their pilots license. Makes sense in an area so vast and unspoiled with roads. With that many people flying, there needs to be a lot of landing strips. But building roads up there is difficult and expensive enough as it is, let alone building landing strips. You know what’s cheaper? Some railroad style crossing gates with flashing red lights, a radio set up, and a couple of signs. This thought process didn’t even cross our minds as we were driving. Until we came up on the railroad crossing sign down and flashing. Not a railroad track in sight, we were a bit confused. Until a plane came over our heads and landed on the road in front of us and then taxied off the side to the hangars.

We crossed the Yukon River, and filled up with gas at the Yukon River Camp. The last fuel stop till we get to Coldfoot, 120 miles north.

 

[JMacs]

One thing that strikes you as you drive through the vast openness is that there are a lot of areas up here that have never felt the footsteps of man. You don’t get that feeling in the lower 48. Even in the Rocky Mountains, you still can believe that there is someone off in the distance. Not so up in Alaska.

We pull into Coldfoot early afternoon. Go to top off the tank. With a full tank, we could head further north. But which pump to use. None of them were labeled. And we were pretty sure, the Toyota would not do so well on diesel. OK. Well, we’ll go into the Café, grab some food, and see if one of them could shed a little light on the situation. Must have been a tough lunch shift, because the waitresses had no desire to help us. At all. We walk in, sit down, and wait. There are 3 sitting over at anther table who just continue their conversation. We wait patiently for a bit. We get up, grab some menus. And wait. Get up again and get some glasses of water. And wait. We tried giving them a friendly wave. And wait. As we walk out the door, I think one of them finally acknowledged our presence in the building by casting a glance at us. Our thoughts of a cooked meal returned to canned tuna and crackers. Another review of the pumps and still no markings on what is diesel, leaded, or unleaded. Well, the gas gauge says we have a little over a half tank. Back to the Yukon River camp we go.

To this day, I don’t think I have ever driven on a road that tired me out like that one. The constant bouncing around on the washboard takes a toll on you. And the thought that if we slide off the road, there might not be anybody along for hours to help you out doesn’t do anything to reduce your stress level either.

Somewhere along there, I heard this strange sound coming from the back of the car. I stop, lean my head out the door. Hmm. We seem to have blown a tire. The tread was still there. Parts of the sidewalls, not so much. Which brings us back to one other mod we wanted to do to help complete the rally look, mount the spare to the roof. Lamenting not having done that, we unpacked most everything out of the back to get to the spare. I don’t think the entire time we drove from Coldfoot, changed the tire, miscellaneous other stops, to the Yukon river, we saw another vehicle. When we finally made it back to a tire shop in Anchorage, the guys looked at what was left of our tire and asked, “What in the hell did you do?!” Like we were completely clueless and we should have our keys taken away right then and there. When we said, “We drove the Dalton Highway to Coldfoot”, their attitude did a complete 180. That was a perfectly acceptable excuse for destroying a tire like that. Then we started talking about what we saw up there and where else we had stopped.

 

[JMacs]

At the time, Canada was doing what they could to change the highways from narrow, two lane gravel to at least wider gravel roads with shoulders, and sometimes even paved roads. One day around lunchtime, we passed a construction dump truck with a couple of guys enjoying their lunch, and some other things that would help them enjoy the great outdoors. My guess, when they opened the door, it would look like Cheech and Chong getting out. Considering we were driving past at speed and could smell it quite distinctly. Now, one of the things you don’t think about when you are driving in the lower 48 is getting detoured around come construction. It is what it is and you follow the orange arrows. So, what do you do when there aren’t any other roads from point A to point B? You drive through the construction. Sometimes they stop traffic for a while. Sometimes they don’t. When we finally got up to a worker with his STOP sign, we walked up to us and told us to be careful driving through the construction. Construction equipment can stop and turn suddenly. Half sarcastically, we told him how we just played chicken with a road grader. “Oh no, dude. Don’t do that.” Apparently, there was more than one truck that was a little smoke filled over lunch.

Somewhere along the line, we lost the power steering belt. Checking things, the idler pully sound and felt more like a pepper grinder. Still drivable, just a little tougher to change directions. Lucky for us, there was a Napa store along our forward progress. Not quite so lucky, they didn’t have a new bearing that fit. Not wanting to turn us away without helping, the guy behind the counter started looking around to see if there was anything he had that might work. We were having a good time chatting with the others hanging out there. The Napa guy was on a quest. For the next 30 minutes, he would pop out of the back, look at something on the computer, disappear into the stacks. He finally came out, looking a bit disappointed in himself. “You know, there is one more place I can check. I have a box of parts that we were sent here by mistake. I just haven’t gotten around to sending them back yet.” Lady luck was back on our side. He had the exact part we needed. Told him he should probably order another one, just to be on the safe side.

 

[JMacs]

10,500 miles, 3 weeks, later, we were back home. Little dirtier. Little skinnier. Little poorer. But a lot richer.

 

[Ace Brown]

Great story and photos. Nice to read one about young adventurers. Thanks for posting.


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

 

[kpredator]

great story!!
i’ve made the trip from iowa up the alcan
a few times also!!!
fond memories!!!

 

[JMacs]

Billiebob. Vintage?! Hey now. I resemble that remark!

Yes. All the pictures were taken with my trusty Canon AE-1. Took slides instead of print film. Had a local photo lab convert them to digital. Some slides have aged better than others. When I cam home with over 300 pictures, we thought that was a lot of pictures. Today, I probably would have come home with closer to 3000.

Not a dual gauge train. You just see the second set of tracks at tunnels and bridges. In case of a derailment, they can drag the cars forward to solid ground and the second set will keep the wheels will keep them going relatively straight.

 

[Arjan]

Love the write up !

Many thanks.

Hope you have more..