Day 34 - Home and an Invitation

As we crossed the Poughkeepsie River, I finally figured out how to shoot quick pics from Maynard's camera as a train came east to west. We're home. Penelope kept the home fires burning (perhaps at outside temperatures too high for comfort, but with absolutely no emergencies) beautifully. Mom has weathered a low period and a fall and has come out gracefully and still dedicated to the greenhouse at Avery Heights. I'm really looking forward to Lew's visit next week. I have to include Jacqui's incredible housework while we were away. She even cleaned our basement! What a woman.

Before I go further, I'd love to have you guys over some time soon. Please give me a call at 860-668-5672 to give me your schedule, and I'll do my best to coordinate. If the date that works best for most doesn't work for you, let's get together -- definitely.

I want to end with a few reflections that didn't fit with the daily news. First, I was struck by how nice people are; Gerry LaPlante said this after his bike trip across country last year, and it rings true. People are friendly. They like to chat. They aren't dishonest or antagonistic. They like to share things about themselves. In comparison to the way I live and think at home, the West seemed safer. Second, I admit, I love to listen in on other people's conversations. I listened to people talking about local hospitals closing, about Sarah Palin and politics, about job uncertainty. I didn't hear arguments; folks seemed to be among others who shared their concerns. There were odd moments of recognition, too; in a restaurant in the Alyeska, a beautiful, blonde young woman reminded me of Grace Vianney. Yet, Grace's conversation about old movies and her balletic stances at the English department party were full of intellect and life (charis); the girl I saw was merely a pale reflection of Grace. I also loved watching little children and dogs, both of which were plentiful.

Like the trips in literature (Maynard will groan), I was trying to run away to Alaska. Our cat, Colona, died at 20 years old in February. Puck died at 10 years old in May. It's hard to come home to a house without pets. Even more, I'm very sad about leaving my job. I'm too attuned to thinking about kids and connecting with them. Penelope's copy of the latest Suffield Academy Magazine came in the mail while I was gone, and, reading it, I realize that I've only been putting off the grief I feel.

That said, I've always wanted to go to Alaska, and this was an amazing trip. I love being with Maynard; I like feeling like a tough explorer in the car when I see all the folks cached away in tour buses; I like being there -- where the mountains are, where the wild animals are, where the history took place, where I feel that the sky and horizon go on forever.

Good times. Thanks for coming along.

Day 33 - Ishpeming, MI to Batavia, NY

Having a computer and internet access had been a boon last year on our trip to the UK; it has proved so again this time around. Also, finding the right book makes a huge difference in the last days, as we tell ourselves we're still on the trip, but we're actually focused on zooming home. As we hurdled across the UP today, we kept an eye out for Seney, the town where Ernest Hemingway isolated himself in order to recuperate from his war wounds. (I hadn't realized that he ended up with about 200 pieces of shrapnel in his leg.) Two Hearted River runs north to Lake Superior, but Fox River runs through Seney. This is probably the area that inspired some of the Nick Adams stories, such as, "Big Two Hearted River" and "Indian Camp." Later, we charged down the interstate that cleaves the top of the main section of Michigan, driving past the Walloon Lake area where Hemingway's family had their summer home. I'm tempted to think that Summit, the town depicted in "The Killers," found its inspiration here. There just aren't real towns on the UP, at least now.

Also, we'd acquired a terrific book at the visitors center for the Voyageurs National Park in upper Minnesota. A reprint of a 1941 publication by the Minnesota Historical Society Press, The Voyageur's Highway is as interesting for its auther as for its content: both are fascinating. Author Grace Lee Nute of North Conway, NH, graduated from Smith in 1917, then achieved an MA from Radcliffe, and, finally, earned her PhD from Harvard in 1921. She studied under Frederick Jackson Turner at Harvard who recommended her for the job of manuscripts curator at the Minnesota Historical Society. Nute was clearly an avid outdoorswoman, an early, outspoken conservationist, an obsessed researcher, an inspired writer, and someone who could recognize and communicate the complex image of the mix of lakes and portages defined through the fur traders' canoe route between Lake Superior and Rainy Lake. Reading the book aloud and talking about it made the time on the highway interesting.

Day 32 - Duluth, MN to Marquette, MI

I was surprised by Duluth, as we came over the hill above the city; a full oreboat was crossing towards Wisconsin on Lake Superior, and the city looked clean and vibrant. We drove down to the 1880s Depot, passing warehouses and manufacturing areas that are now funky businesses. (I wish the same could be done to Holyoke!). The Depot houses four museums, one of which is a transportation (mainly train) museum. Besides the lovely old engines, Maynard focused on box cars, his current fascination. He had great examples of their architectural styles, forms of trucks and couplers, and even handles. Besides enjoying the trains, I checked out the logging museum and a special exhibit on the immigrant experience. I never made it to the art museum; we needed to head out. We drove across Wisconsin, then started through the upper peninsula of Michigan. We're spending the night in Ishpeming. There's a (closed) mine here that has great late Victorian architecture. We'll try to get some pics in the am.

Day 31 - Through Ontario Lakes to Virginia, MINN, mines

Horrified by the low speed limits in Ontario, Maynard drove -- very slowly -- along picturesque lakes until we crossed the border at International Falls, Minnesota. Then, happier, we followed the edge of Voyageurs National Park at a higher speed. The info at the visitor's center was disappointing; Maynard had already told me more about the voyageurs than the NPS volunteer knew. But we picked up a book about the voyageurs that looks good. From there we toodled on down to the iron range and are spending the night at Virginia. There's a huge former iron mine here that looks simply like a beautiful lake. There are plenty of working mines, too. Maynard promised to show me taconite, so he found some railroad tracks near a former mine and picked up a handful of round, brown spheres:taconite. We're now bringing a few handfuls home.

Day 30 - Watrous, Saskatchewan to Steinbach, Manitoba

Last night our motel hostess told us about the extreme rains Saskatchewan has been receiving; today we saw the results as we drove through the southeast quadrant of the province, and, indeed, for much of southwest Manitoba. Many, many fields are unplanted, and more have small ponds. A welcome lady at Moose Jaw said that farmers can't even collect insurance because they couldn't get their crops in at all while it was raining. The area specializes these days in pulse crops -- chickpeas, lentils, all sorts of peas, canola, alfalfa, and other things. Farmers have switched to dry farming and crop rotation. Then, we discovered another new source of landuse: oil digging. More and more small pumps appeared as we drove east, looking like small, clean dinosaurs monotonously bobbing. Maynard told me that a huge oil field has been recently discovered that starts around Bismarck, ND and extends into Canada. It just started opening up several years ago. He thinks it's a very deep field. Some people feel that it's has the potential that Texas oilfields had. We've ended the day a tad southeast of Winnipeg, no longer feeling at all prairie-ish or even plains-ish. The truly strange experience these days is the lack of light in the evening. Why isn't the sun still out at midnight?

Day 29 - Vegreville, Alberta to Watrous, Saskatchewan

We turned down the chance to see the world's largest pierogi (it is skewered on top of perhaps the world's largest fork), the world's largest mushroom (in concrete, no less) and the world's largest tomahalk, choosing instead to search for 45 minutes for Saskatchewan's second longest train trestle. Of course, it was just around the corner; you just had to know which corner of which dirt road to check. (Three slightly lost Canadian military cadets showed up once we'd finally found the bridge; unfortunately, they were looking for something else ((in French, the poor Quebecois boys))). The bright, dayglo yellow of the canola plants almost burns your eyes. We spotted a red pickup truck in a field of canola and almost wrote a William Carlos Williams poem. Things are on the surface here: ponds, oil derricks, and absolutely huge potash mines. We're spending the night near Manitou Beach. The lake there is salt water because the mineral content is so high. I waded a bit. Now I need to check the internet for several bets I have with Maynard: isn't "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay" a 60s tune? And, what is the christian name of Queen Elizabeth IIs mother?

Day 28 - Dawson Creek to Vegreville, Alberta

Okay, we know about small towns finding something big with which to identify themselves. A few days ago we saw a signpost forest -- tons of signs from around the world on fences along a town's main drag. This morning I feasted my eyes on the largest beaver I'd ever seen -- in fact, it's the largest beaver in the world. So there. But this evening, Vegreville, Alberta, beat the others with the world's largest pysanka. That is, the largest Ukrainian Easter Egg in the world. When it was created in the 1970s, new technology had to be developed for the first mathematical or geometric definition of an egg shape, the first practical application of the theory of mathematical curve definition known as B-splines, the first architectural shell structure in which the surface completely closes on itself, and more. The egg is aluminum anodized in gold, bronze, and silver. It weighs 5000 pounds. It actually moves slowly in the wind. HRHs Elizabeth & Philip came by to dedicate it. Plus, it has meaning. A pre-Christian symbol for Ukrainians, the pysanka shape and colors combine pureness, protection, and lots of other ideas. I really feel that I've found one of the trips great discoveries in this egg. Of course, our waitress had to present further challenges. After the pysanka was erected, a Ukrainian town 15 minutes west built the world's biggest sausage. And another town, just north, has identified itself with the world's biggest pierogi. She says they're considered the breakfast corner of the province.

Day 27 - Muncho Lake to Dawson Creek

We started the morning seeing caribou on the highway. Then one of our favorite highway attractions: being first in line at road construction. It's always fun to chat with the worker signalling when to drive on. Today was special: we scored as the first car from CT in the week that they'd been on that site. What's interesting is that CT was the last state they needed to complete Alaska and the lower 48!

Again, I was struck by the change in landscape as we drove through the upper Canadian Rockies, then, late in the day, onto the prairies. Canola is a major agricultural product of this area, which means that there are broad swathes of yellow in fields that stretch forever. We ended the day at Dawson Creek, the starting point of the ALCAN, the Alaska Highway. Roosevelt ordered that a highway be constructed to link Fairbanks, AK with Dawson Creek, BC after the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. The highway -- mostly built new but using some existing roads and tracks -- was constructed in 8 months and 11 days. We've now finished everything that ties to Alaska. Tonight we began to plot our drive across Canada.

Day 26 -Whitehorse to Muncho Lake

I bet Maynard this morning that we wouldn't see any interesting wildlife today. (It took awhile to negotiate what constituted wildlife. No ground squirrels or crows.) Then, after lunch, in 20 miles we saw 4 brown bears, 1 grizzly, and 2 bison. I stopped counting after we saw more bears, a herd of bison, and clusters of stone sheep (they look like goats). Both the sheep and bison had new babies to show off. The moment I worry about, though, is when the bicycler we saw headed up a mountain over which we had just seen the grizzly actually met the bear. Meals on wheels.

The landscape is changing; partly it's because not all of the western Yukon/BC area was glaciated. It was steppes in the days of Beringia (before the continents separated). Also, there are more people -- albeit RVers headed west. At the end of the day, we were visited by a grey jay who wished to taste our dinner. Things remain exotic, yet we know we're headed east.

Day 25 - Drive down to Whitehorse

Above is a pic of Robert Service's house while he stayed in Dawson City. The simple, tiny, log cabin with a sod roof is typical of miners', clerks', and poets' houses of the time. There's a similar one to represent Jack London's lodging when in Dawson City. Here also is a photo of a marge of Lake Labarge, south of Dawson City and close to Whitehorse. The museum in Whitehorse has a replica of Sam McGee's house, too, but it's a tad fancier; Service knew and liked McGee, so he borrowed McGee's name for "The Cremation of Sam McGee." The real McGee was a tough Canadian who must have enjoyed being characterized as a Tennesee chechaquo (newcomer) in the poem. We're in Whitehorse this evening, which is named for the rapid waters that appeared like horses' manes to the Klondikers.

Day 24 - Top of the World, Chicken, & Dawson City

We drove up a summer-only road to Chicken, Alaska, home of great pies and many jokes. From there we experienced the Top of the World Highway over to the Canadian border and into the Yukon. Our destination was Dawson City, the site of the Klondike Gold Rush. We took the ferry across the Yukon River to the city shortly before contestants started arriving who were paddling down from Whitehorse in a five-day race. Dawson City is more entertaining than other frontier tourist towns. (Unfortunately, we stayed in one of the most horrific hostels ever created; imagine Stephen King and the world's greatest environmental disaster rolled into one.) Despite poor choice in lodging, we enjoyed ourselves, including checking out the view of the city from Dome Mountain. Also, Maynard looked for gold at the Discovery Claim on Bonanza Creek, the claim that started the rush. He didn't find anything, but a fox came by to say hello and we encountered some local beavers who were hellbent on blocking a drainage pipe.

Day 23 - corrected

Alas, My Faithful Informant was NOT the fount of all knowledge in my last posting. We DID see Chugach Mountains on the 23rd, but not the backs of mountains we'd seen in the Inner Passage. The floating blobs included Mount Sanford at 16,237 feet.

Day 23 - second Tok before we cross the Canadian line

Today we retraced our steps to Anchorage, then set out east towards Glenallen. Along the way the sky cleared and we could see the backs of the tallest mountains of the Chugach Range, including Mount Fairweather. These are the mountains which we saw earlier from the boat in Glacier Bay. They were very distant from us then, and were easily 100 miles from us today. I think Fairweather tops 15,000 feet. (I never have the facts on hand when I write these notes to you!) Also, I saw a porcupine this afternoon! He was waddling off the side of the road. This was special -- we haven't even paused for the last five moose, after all. We've been lucky with animals, birds (we saw several more swans today), and plants, especially wild flowers. I've nearly finished Klondike Fever; this is good because tomorrow we cross back into Canada and head for Dawson City.

Day 22 - The City of Kenai

The City of Kenai proclaims its title. Highway signs look like this: Soldotna 14, City of Kenai 12, Anchorage 268. Yet this city is smaller than the other towns we've visited on the Kenai Peninsula. The City of Kenai boasts other wonderful peculiarities. Maynard's favorite is the constant flights of old planes: DC-6s and DC-7s, as well as Boeings. These bits of a 1950s childhood are now used to haul oil to tiny coastal villages in the fall and winter and to move catches of fish from overworked canneries to less busy ones during the spring and summer. My favorite selection from Kenai is the 80-year-old Russian Orthodox priest who mans both the local church and its gift shop a block away. He is a CT native, born in the town known for the International Silver Company. (Any guesses?) His late-1800s church is caving in because the huge, bronze candelabra (from a former parish on Kodiak Island) is so heavy that the sides of the building are collapsing. But help is on the way. The priest, his flock of 22, and many contributors have gathered $127,000, enough to earn a matching grant for the money needed to repair the building. They're just waiting for the return letter from Washington, D.C. (He sighed, mail takes so long to get to Alaska.)