Category: van life

The Eagle has Landed! Back to Tok, Yukon, and British Columbia

September 15, 2026

Now that we’re finally done with the worst of the roads, frost-heave wise, I did a quick inspection of the interior van construction. Lucy’s bed is directly underneath mine, and it would be fairly tragic to squash her one night. The frame is built on 9 2×4 legs, with 6 steel brackets riveted to the van skeleton, 3 at the head (passenger side) and 3 at the foot. I think it’s safe to say that it was overkill. And the shelves are holding up fine. 

The exterior of the van is a whole different story. I don’t believe I’ve ever had a filthier vehicle. It’s like a geological experiment: a layer of bugs, a layer of dust, another layer of bugs, a coating of mud, more bugs. The rain didn’t make any noticeable difference, except when I climbed on top to check the solar panels and they seemed pretty clean. I can’t decide if Dad is rolling in his grave, trying to manifest himself in my head to force me to stop at a car wash. 

I say I can’t decide because I checked the prices at a couple places and just laughed. One was $2/minute, and I’d need at least 30 minutes minimum – and then I’d still have to do all the work myself – not the drive through kind of car wash (which wouldn’t get all my bugs off anyway). Bah. As dad was somewhat thrifty (“money doesn’t grow on trees!”), he may be in agreement with keeping the filth, maybe as a sort of travel badge of honor. Or – more likely – he’d buy a bottle of Windex and a case of paper towels and spend 6 hours washing by hand.

(Several day later update – I stopped in Kitwanga for an oil change. Shelves and cleanliness don’t matter much if my engine dies. The guy let me borrow his hose to wash my solar panels).

An inspection of my person did not yield as good results as that of the van. I am sore and achy everywhere, especially my neck. After an analysis of my general driving position, leaned back yet slumped forward, often employing the white-knuckle driving technique, I’m surprised I don’t feel worse. The past few nights I’ve been woken up by my neck or shoulders hurting. Every 15 minutes while I’m driving now I have to remind myself to sit up, shoulders back, head up, loosen my fingers, etc etc. And maybe firmer pillows (update so you don’t worry – all good now! 3 days and back to normal, except now my knee hurts).

Lucy failed her inspection as well. She still won’t sit or lay down while I’m driving, and is usually standing with her two front paws on the seat in the back so she can bother me. She can’t get into the front – a cargo net spans the gap between the seats so she can just poke her head over. But it’s thick elastic, so when she’s angry (quite often) she presses her neck against it as hard as she can and jams her skull into me until she cuts off her breathing and I have to elbow her back. When I get my pillows, Lucy will get a hard plastic barrier. And my too-soft pillows. She is also covered in small blobs of dried pine sap from the forest. She was taking a nap in the soft needles and now has clumps of hard sticky goo in her fur. What a pair we are. Old. And in need of a spa day. 

This photo is from last year – that’s why Lucy looks so happy. Just showing her cargo net

I am aware that our aches and pains do not make for exciting reading, but an update now and then is necessary for a whole picture of this trip. Same with my obsession with tidiness. If I let two hours go by without putting stuff back where it belongs, total chaos. I’ve generated a long list of ways I can make the van more efficient, stuff-wise, but that’ll have to wait until I’m in one place for more than a couple days. 

Geography-wise, I left Valdez (the -ez is like “cheese” not “fez”) on September 10 and took the Tok cutoff road back to Tok. I could have spent a month camping along that road if I wasn’t in a hurry. The fall colors were blazing, yellow aspens with red wildflowers and ground covers. I stopped so many places to take pictures and had to pass the same slow drivers over and over. 

I stayed twice at the Tundra RV park, super mellow place with a bar (my companion for an afternoon beer was a 6 year old boy with a large plastic angler fish that lit up and frightened Lucy). We stayed two days to do laundry and relax before tackling the frost heave roads again through the east of Alaska and back into the Yukon. In Valdez, a man said “The Canadians don’t take care of their roads very well,” but after driving the bad parts of both nations, I think I like the Canadian way better. They have a low speed limit, and put orange flags on the side of the road near worse than shitty areas. Speed, you get what you deserve, forewarned. The United States part of the frost-heave section has smooth, cared-for roads with a high speed limit – but that lulls you into a false sense of “this road is awesome” until the bottom absolutely drops out with no warning, Lucy flails off her perch, and everything in the van takes flight for a brief moment. Then when I am scanning the roadsides for moose or bear and start daydreaming, I’m going 70 again before I realize where I am. And am severely reminded. Dukes of Hazzard style.

The road from Tok is the Alaska Highway, and I drove it all the way from the start at Dawson Creek on my way here. This time, it was so empty I could stand in the middle of the highway and take photos (but I still won’t stop if my van won’t fit entirely off the side of the road, that’s just poor decision making). 

The eagle has landed – and I can’t tell you how happy I am about that. I pulled off to the side of the road somewhere in the Yukon next to a river, surrounded by mountains (omg I love the Yukon), and almost immediately saw an eagle fly by. It was fairly far away but I could see it perched in the one tree that towered above the rest. Lucy and I ran over as close as we could, but a boulder field and river were in the way of getting closer. I proceeded to take about 7000 photos. Even though it just sat there. It was like at the aquarium, tap the glass, “do something.” At some point, I heard a lot of squawking and saw another eagle flying over, a juvenile. The poor thing flew right into the tree trunk and flapped and flapped to get to a branch. The adult eagle sat right above it, watching the progress without moving a muscle. The baby hopped across a gigantic nest and tried to get on a branch on the other side, completely failed, wings flapping, feathers ruffling, talons scrambling, screeching the whole time. And the adult just patiently watched. I may have detected a resigned look of “that’s my idiot child” from the eagle, maybe a heavy sigh. I captured a funny progression of photos from the whole debacle, but again, I took like 7000 so it may be a while before I get to them all.

I really wanted a photo of the eagle flying since the backdrop of mountains and mist was so dramatic. I had to put Lucy back in the van because she let me know she was tired of sitting there, she may as well be in her comfy bed. I crouched on the rocks for hours. At some point, this ridiculously cute weasel (I think) got suspicious of me and kept trying to get close enough to check me out. But every time it poked its tiny head out from the rocks, I’d look, it would dart back in and reappear around a different rock. It was kinda unnerving since crouching down in the place to take photos gave me a definite plumber’s butt, and I didn’t want the little guy sneaking up from behind. And he’d pop out, startle me, jump back in, over and over, and was getting very close to me. As I was turned around shooing him off, that is (of course), the only time the eagle flew. So I’m happy I finally saw an eagle, but I hope I can get closer to the next one. I would have camped here much longer but with 35 degrees at night I didn’t dare.

See the one tall tree in front of the mountains? That’s where the eagles were. A little far away.

We made it through the rest of the frost heaves to the east side of Whitehorse, and I couldn’t find a good place to sleep. Pulled into a campground and it was packed (now, though, it’s Canadians out for the weekend, not tourists). And getting grumpy because I really wanted to stop driving, I found Marsh Lake. Oh, Canada, how I love you.

The Alaska Highway crosses between Yukon and British Columbia a few times, and we spent the next night in the very last section of the Yukon (where I forgot and stopped at the same gas station that charged $10.40/gallon, but I didn’t have a lot of choices). The aspen trees were as bright a yellow as I’ve ever seen, total fall glory, the leaves tinkling in the breeze. These were interspersed in a spruce-pine mixed forest, with mountains and water. I cannot begin to describe how AMAZING the scenery of this trip has been. Every time I think I’ve seen the most beautiful thing EVER, I round a bend and “are you fucking kidding me?” It’s never ending postcard views – snow-capped mountains surrounded by forested foothills, lakes and rivers everywhere, each scene better than the last. 

I finally saw stars this morning (I wrote this section a few days ago, so when I say “this morning,” it’s not). I’ve been trying, but when I first got up this way it stayed light far later than I could stay awake. Fast forward a couple weeks and it’s darker, but cloudy and rainy. But this morning I woke up at 2 am, my neck was bothering me, so I got out of the van to stretch myself out, and WOW the stars were brilliant. I’m miles from any town lights and a truck hasn’t driven by in ages. It’s about 28 degrees with totally clear skies (the coldest night I’ve spent in the van without a heater so far was 24 degrees, somewhere in Wyoming a couple years ago. I added more insulation to the entire ceiling when I installed the roof fan so it’s a bit better now). The big dipper was huge and unmistakeable, and I see why Alaska made it their state flag. I haven’t seen this many stars in a long time. Five hours later, while I’m writing this, I can’t see 5 feet in front of me for the fog. I generally get up early to watch the sun rise but I don’t think I’ll see that today. At least there was enough clear sky yesterday to make coffee indoors this morning.

I was hoping for a nice sunrise over the lake and forest at this rest stop because I was thinking about putting together an album of photos only taken from the places I’ve slept on the side of the road. So much beauty just feet from the highway. 

This afternoon we finally turned south onto Highway 37, or Cassiar Highway, into British Columbia. I believe most of this is tribal land. The road is a winding, narrow, gravel/asphalt lane without lines, with steep ravines on either side. It passes through several mountain ranges and is similarly covered with pines, firs, and aspens. The extreme fall colors of the Yukon are receding, and I was happy about a possible warmer night temperature here. Our sleep spot is on the side of Simmons Lake in a pull-off, and not many cars are on the road so it should be pretty peaceful. The lake is enormous and blue and has a nice walk down to the shore. Walking down a hill, Lucy stopped for a drink in a giant puddle which was covered in broken ice. The couple hours south we gained was apparently offset by the gain of 1000 feet elevation. I prepared for a colder night be enclosing Lucy’s bed in a towel canopy to keep her heat in, and she can wear her coat to sleep. She probably doesn’t need it all, but I worry.

September 16, 2026

After a longer driving day, we are camped on Mehan Lake in British Columbia. I pulled into a random rest area and found a trail that led to a small floating dock and fire pit. I’m always a little skeptical about driving the van on dirt inclines, but I took a chance today because the town of Bell is only 2 kilometers away and it would be easy to walk there and get some help if I’m stuck. Plus, I got those badass tires before I left (but I need to remind myself that new tires do not make this a high-performance cargo van). I haven’t had phone reception in a few days so I have no idea what the weather forecast calls for. I haven’t had a proper shower since Tok (oh, boy, how long ago?), so I set up my camp shower to wash my hair. The little things, like clean hair, make me so happy now. I stayed up late to watch stars, and heard owls and wolves hooting and calling to each other across the water.

The fall colors are receding more, and it’s getting warmer, so I’m taking my time again. Lucy will appreciate that. We stopped in Prince George to resupply at Walmart and Petsmart, and I found a shop with a dog bath (which Lucy definitely did not appreciate, but suddenly the van doesn’t smell so bad). I scrubbed, but she still has clumps of dried sap in her fur. We pulled into 10 Mile Lake campground, and the park ranger is a retired dog and horse therapist. Lucy just got her spa day, a bath and a massage, and I am anticipating my turn. 

Omg, I’m finally caught up to where I am. I know I should write more often to keep the dates of this trip straight in my head, but some days I’m so exhausted I just want to lay in bed and read. So I do.

September 21, 2026

Spent two nights at 10 Mile Lake, and now I’m sitting at a laundromat in Williams Lake. Now I’m caught up.

Another end of the line – but with glaciers

September 14, 2026

I left you last in Mat-Su Valley, thinking that I was going to head back to Canada and down to Washington. But that wasn’t to be…

It has been raining and my solar is down. For the most part, I can live without power. If it’s not pouring rain, I can make coffee with my camp stove (but reminder to myself, I need a good coffee pot for use on a fire. Using a drip system with boiling water yields lukewarm coffee when it’s this cold out, when you want it hot the most). But since it’s been pouring rain, I haven’t had coffee in two days. Caffeine, yes, but nothing warm, and I’m not quite right without coffee. But worse than no coffee would be to let Kristie’s salmon go bad. She gave me some beautiful, fat cuts, and that would be tragic. I snuggled them into the ice cube trays, so it’s okay for now. 

I spent the night on the side of the road, which is not as bad as it sounds. Except for a highway, I’m surrounded by nature. A rushing river and a forest, pretty good deal. Whenever I’m stopped for the night, which is early due to my crazy dog, I notice that most travelers start pulling over or into campsites or RV parks between 5-7. So the upside of the curvy, narrow mountain roads is that very few people drive at night and it’s dead quiet, especially far away from a town. Then I got a good look at a downside of curvy, narrow mountain roads the next morning. 

Just a random fall color pic – who knows anymore where this is.

It had been raining for a couple days, and fairly cold. Too much rain to make coffee, and it was tempting to fire up the propane grill inside the van. But without power my roof fan won’t work, and it might be weeks before anyone tows the van and finds our carbon-monoxide-saturated corpses. I should remember to research that later. Worse than the rain was the thick fog. The highway (Glenn Highway) was in a mountain pass at this point, so I’d drive up and into the impenetrable fog, rise above it, drive down and into the fog, drop below it, over and over and over. Add construction and a single gravel lane that didn’t have any markings or guard rails. The drop off on the right was steep (think Crawler’s Ledge steep), and single, sad, tiny orange cones dotted the cliffside every so often. And I was stuck behind a couple cars and a double semi. And no coffee. And my solar power alarm started screaming as I tried to make out the tail lights of the guy in front of me through the rain and fog, worst time for a jump scare. I had switched off my power for the night and put it back on for the freezer, but it wasn’t enough. Thankfully I could switch off the alarm with a switch I installed behind my head above the driver’s seat. I was starting to stress about gas and didn’t have any reception to find the next station on a map. And no coffee. It was just a complete shit morning. I’d chance a quick look out my right-hand window and see that I was driving above a glacier, and start to stress about ice on the road. It was a terror-filled morning drive.

Oh, and don’t forget Lucy – head butting me in the arm the entire time so I’d stop scaring her, but the road was too narrow for any rest stops. I think this was the only time I ever asked myself “what the fuck am I doing here?”

The only way I could deal with the driving scenario I found myself in (second to worst scenario, but only to snow) was to scream-sing with the stereo blasting. That is my extreme distress coping mechanism. So I made a short list of my favorite scream-songs from the playlist I was listening to (no radio stations). 

Top 5 scream-song list: 5. Dream On – Aerosmith, 4. Hit Me Baby One More Time – Brittany Spears (but I only have the Travis version), 3. Whipping Post – Allman Brothers, 2. Bad – U2 (and if you don’t remember that great mullet Bono had during Live-Aid or whatever fest from the 80’s you should totally watch it on YouTube), 1. Oh! Darling – Beatles. Honorable Mention: Dry the Rain – Beta Band (in honor of the John Cusack movie reference, but also a good one). Second Honorable Mention: Bend – Middle Kids (because it’s too new to bump the classics). I’m listening to music as I’m writing this and I keep wanting to change my list. Led Zeppelin just came on. 

I should have asked Santa for a better stereo when I was at the North Pole. Every time I hit a pothole, the music cuts out. I can’t figure out why, because it’s the connection to my phone, not an internal wire. How does a bump in the road interrupt bluetooth?

Anyway, I had a decision to make at Glennallen: follow the Tok Cutoff north (ugh north again) to Tok and back to Canada for the road south? Or south along the Richardson Highway (along the Trans-Alaska Pipeline) to Valdez? I quickly went from what the fuck am I doing here?” to “I’ll probably never drive this way again so I have to.” I’m really starting to worry about the weather (Denali roads were closed last week for snowfall, and all tourist bus trips cancelled), and a side trip to Valdez would add four days at least. Now if I had been actually planning this, I would have known that a trip to Valdez does not mean seeing the Prince William Sound, which I want to do. I would also have known that I could have caught a ferry from Whittier, east of Anchorage, saved myself days of driving (including the terror-filled morning), and sailed across the northern part of the Sound. But alas, done is done. The drive to Valdez was stunning, but the tourists drove worse than the usual idiots – in proportion to the level of beauty, I guess. 

(Roxanne – The Police)

I nearly had two accidents on that road: one was a sedan driving about 20 in a 65 with no flashers, just people leaning out the window taking pictures. That may not seem so bad, but coming up on them around a mountainy curve with cars in the other lane is enough to make Lucy jump up and head butt me when I had to slam on the brakes. The second was car stopped dead in the road – in a hairpin turn – in the canyon to take pictures of the waterfalls. At least I was only going about 30 at the time to navigate the curves. With the morning starting with a driving nightmare, then the afternoon filled with morons, I was glad to arrive in Valdez. 

Bridal Veil Falls

Valdez is the end of the line, too, like Homer. Alaska has a lot of them. The camping in town is limited to parking-lot style RV parks, which I hate, but since the park was closing in two days I nearly had the place to myself (I made a note that it closes on September 10, just for my date references).

Valdez is charming, a port town with docks and a ferry and seafood and cute shops. But covered in giant, nearly-empty RV parks. As scared as I am of the snow, I would have hated this place in high tourist season. It was a perfect time to visit (also, very few bugs now). The town is overrun by the cutest fluffy bunnies, cartoon-type bunnies, in all colors: black, white, gray, brown, some a mix of all colors. They lived under the buildings and hung out under the RVs and Lucy thought she had died and gone to heaven. 

(Thunder Road – Bruce Springsteen)

Valdez has a ferry, and my map shows a line connecting Valdez to Haines, another town I would love to see. A ferry would cut off the entire drive back north to Tok and put me near the road in the Yukon. So Lucy and I walked down to the terminal and there is only a ferry going to the place I came from, not the way I’m going. I have no idea what the dotted line connecting Valdez and Haines means. So if I’m going to see Haines I’ll have to add another four days along the Haines Highway, down and up. I could do it much quicker but that doesn’t sound like fun.

Since I didn’t see the Prince William Sound, I booked a glacier trip to get on the water. It only covers a teensy portion of one arm of the Sound, so technically maybe it’s not even considered “the Sound.” Lucy wanted some time apart, so I got up the next morning and made it to the boat. It was so foggy I could barely see the van. The boat captain was required to blow his fog horn every two minutes since no one could see anything. 

On the way out

On the way back

The trip visited the Colombia Glacier, arrived at by a speedy motor to a bay filled with icebergs, which slowed us considerably. A couple was getting married onboard, so the captain was trying to get as close as possible and it was COLD! The guy I bought my ticket from told me I’d be fine in “what I was wearing” the day before, when he should have told me to pack my winter coat and gloves. Jerk. But it’s a glacier tour, so my bad, too, I guess.

Columbia Glacier

We saw a mama and baby humpback whale, otters relaxing on icebergs, seals on a giant cement marker. The glacier was beautiful, the floating blue icebergs carved into crazy shapes by the wind and water. Ice chunks everywhere in the glassy water. It was a nice tour, but I’ll never need to do it again. 

I was adopted by a couple families with adult children and we stood on the top deck and made fun of a group of women below with their backs to the ocean and mountains, posing for selfies. Hours of selfies. I don’t recall seeing them actually look at the scenery. But it was cold, so they had to go inside and edit pictures until they warmed up to take more. The wedding was short and sweet, possibly because the bride wore a sleeveless gown.

(Fire Woman – The Cult)

The captain mentioned that we would not be anywhere near the Exxon oil spill of 1989, which spilled about 11 million gallons. He said you could barely see damage anymore. Most of the wildlife is back to the previous populations, but if you dig on the beach you’ll find layers of degrading black oil. So still not great. He further mentioned that two men were at the helm at the time of the reef collision, and although they later testified that they turned off the auto pilot, neither of them did. All their course corrections were overridden by the auto pilot and they didn’t notice. The sophisticated radar that could have prevented the reef collision had been broken for two years, too expensive to fix, apparently. The ship ran aground in 35 feet of water and no one started the cleanup for days as they argued about who should do it, then a late-winter storm blew in and no cleanup was possible at that point. I read later that Exxon sued both the Coast Guard and the State of Alaska for making it too hard for them to do a cleanup. Corporate greed and negligence certainly haven’t changed since then. What has changed is that two boats are now required to accompany tankers in and out of the Prince William Sound, along with the pilot – a tug and a boat capable of beginning an oil spill cleanup. 

(You Oughtta Know – Alanis Morisette)

Otter family on icebergs

I haven’t caught up yet to where I am IRL, but this is getting kind of long. More coming very soon because I have wifi right now! (Sept 18, 20206)

And hurray, it’s warm again (but this is where I’m sitting right now, about a week or so after the events above).

Homer Spit, end of the line.

September 7, 2026

I would like to start today by mentioning that it is the one-month anniversary of this trip. Here’s a sloppy map showing my route (but this map starts in Montana, I left from Cleveland).

At the moment I am pulled to the side of the road somewhere in Mat-Su Valley, with the Matanuska River directly next to the van and evergreen-tree-covered mountains across the two-lane road. I think that’s where I am, anyway. My iphone maps aren’t working here so it’s a best paper-map guess. 

I also think I’m on the Glenn Highway. I’ve noticed that no one uses the numbered names of the highways. Each segment, regardless of whether it is the same numerical name, has its own specific designation: Seward Highway, Denali Highway, Sterling Highway, Parks Highway, Alaska Highway, etc. Each of these is the road between two geographical places, like Sterling Highway, which runs to the end of the road on Homer Spit, becomes Parks Highway south of Anchorage, but both are the same (and only) road north. People ask me what routes I’ve driven and I’m totally at a loss to remember all the names. 

I see that it’s been almost a week since I’ve written anything so I’ll try fill in the giant gap between Eagle Falls and Mat-Su Valley.

While I was cleaning the van and doing dishes in Eagle Falls (while Lucy napped in the sun), my sink sprouted a giant leak which I didn’t notice at first. I have a foot pump (which I hate and will be replaced during my next time-out for upgrades), and was wondering why I had no water pressure. Lots of water coming out of the tank, a tiny dribble coming out of the faucet. The rest, apparently, was shooting onto the wall, soaking the wood and wallpaper, puddling under Lucy’s bed, drenching the rugs, you get the idea. Good thing it was sunny – I ended up taking everything out of the van to dry, all doors open, and my van cleaning turned way more serious than intended. 

Lucy and I hiked around Eagle Falls, which has tons of trails through the woods next to the river. Parts of the river had rapids and kayakers were playing in the falls. And to complete our cleaning spree, we went up the road to a combination laundromat/shower/gas station. I showered, the sheets and blankets and dog towels got clean, and that moment may have been the cleanest I’ve been since we left. I had to do the laundromat strip-tease so I could get every piece of clothing washed that I possibly could (the place was full of rough old men so I didn’t get too naked). 

It’s too cold now for Lucy’s bath, but I did see a combo car wash/dog wash/laundromat/shower place – what a brilliant idea for the RV capital of the world. If it had a diner it would have been perfect.

I have been speaking to Kristie Hudson for a few weeks (months?) about my trip out here. Kristie and I paddled (drank) together on Kauai and haven’t seen each other in about 8 years, and she lives in Kenai, south of Anchorage. Her parents are homesteaders, which is fascinating to me. Both grew up in Alaska, but then at some point just planted their flag and said ‘this is my land now’ because no one else was on it and tamed their little bit of wilderness. Totally Little House on the Prairie with -50 degrees below zero and piles of snow. Or that’s how my imagination tells me it happened. Homesteading became illegal maybe 50 years ago out here (but without internet I can’t remember exactly how long ago). It still feels so old west, but with lifted pickup trucks and boats and ORVs. 

Kristie and I met at the Sunrise Inn, had dinner and caught up, then I was back on the road south to get to my final destination. Along the way I stopped at a random pull-off with tons of open space and trails in front of the foothills. Lots of strange earth mounds. Lucy and I climbed one and saw all these people bent over or kneeling, filling buckets with something. They were picking blueberries! The little plants were about two inches tall, and carpeted the entire area like a ground cover. And they were so good. 

I have always known what a “High Bush” blueberry is, and now I’m thinking these must be the “Low Bush” variety. Again, no internet so that might not be remotely factual. I’ll probably forget by the time I have reception so if someone is interested and wants to text me the answer I’d appreciate it. 

Strange place for picking blueberries

Kristie told me that the color of the Kenai river is her favorite color. The first thing that popped into my head was the baby-poop brown of the Cuyahoga, so I was intrigued. And when I turned a bend in the road in the Kenai Peninsula and finally saw it, I nearly drove the van straight in for a super close-up. It was stunning, and I’ve been thinking for days what the exact description might be. Think of a turquoise that is glowing. Like looking at the sun through a fat slab of blue raspberry jello, maybe. I’ve never seen a color like it.

My last stop in Alaska before turning back was Homer Spit, the literal end of the line.

Kenai is the start of a peninsula, then south to Homer, then south to Homer Spit. The spit is a tiny strip of land with a gigantic harbor for fishing boats, ferries, and cruise ships, RV parks, quirky tourist shops, and restaurants. It might be 6 miles long? I don’t know.

One side borders the Cook Inlet, with the Aleutian Island Chain to the west and Kodiak Island to the south. The east side is the Kachemak Bay. If you were to sail counter-clockwise from Homer Spit around the bottom of the Kenai Peninsula you would reach Valdez in the Prince William Sound, home of arguably the most famous oil spill ever. That is another place I regret not visiting, but I’m starting to get worried about snow in the mountains and it would add at least another couple weeks. I haven’t passed the road south to get there yet (Richardson Highway) so it is still a remote possibility. The road runs along the Trans-Alaska Pipeline, from Valdez to the furthest north at the Arctic Ocean. 

Lucy and I stayed at the Homer Spit Campground, at the very tip of the land. It was not a campground that I enjoyed since it is just RVs packed together in a dirt lot, basically. I like some space. But the selling point (besides not wanting to drive anymore) was the miles and miles of beach to walk. I had a nice ocean-front spot so I could lay in bed and look at the water, with mountain chains as far as you could see. It was another of those anxiety-inducing places, so much rugged wilderness and open space. Or, it was open space when I pulled in. I forgot it was a holiday weekend so it got really crowded really quickly. Not like summer-peak-tourism crowded, but Melissa crowded. Kristie told me that the way through the Kenai Peninsula, from Homer to Anchorage, is a bumper-to-bumper affair in the summer. No thanks. 

Lucy and I stayed three days, walking for miles on the beach and napping. Lucy was happy to get some no-drive time. The overwhelming smell was fish and rotting seaweed, typical fishing village. Lucy did not trust the seaweed on the beach. We saw otters and seals, but almost no wildlife except the enormous crows. The first time I saw a seal I thought it was a person swimming and immediately wondered where my goggles were packed. But then I remembered this is not Kauai and there’s no way I was putting more than my toes in the water. Standing on the beach staring at glaciers in the mountains does not inspire me to swim. So we walked and walked.

I thought this would be a good place to see eagles, what with the thousands of fishing boats in the harbor. I saw one. A single eagle. I saw it four times, and it must have been the same one because I was out every morning before sunrise and out every evening through sunset and dusk, and only one eagle flew by, on the same path, at the same time. I’ve been camping by rivers, lakes, ponds, oceans, bays, mountains, forests, streams, borrow pits – and I’ve seen one single eagle. It’s disappointing. Kristie told me the easiest way to find one is to go to the dump, where hundreds are flying around eating garbage. Not the optics I’m looking for (photo-wise) but I should have gone near Anchorage just to see that. 

On one of our walks we stopped at a restaurant with an outdoor deck. Lucy was allowed on, so this was my stop for seafood. I got halibut fish and chips, with an Alaskan ale. Amazing. The restaurant had a dog menu as well, and I ordered Lucy a $15 dinner of salmon and rice – a little bribe because we have so much more driving to do. Her salmon looked so good I wanted to try it but I was not quick enough. 

The final day of my Homer Spit stay was rain, with days of rain forecasted on the way. I read a book and watched the crows out my back window. Every so often I went outside and left a handful of raw almonds on my picnic table. The crows flocked down and hopped off with them, stopping to hold the nut between their talons and peck it into tiny pieces. The only other birds I saw (except the millions of sea gulls) were these small, sparrow-like birds. They flew in and out of the van’s front grill and kindly cleared all the dead bugs from the clogged filter. 

I saw Kristie again in Soldotna as I started the trip backwards to retrace much of my path. I got to see Mahina (dog), and we had a giant breakfast. She left me with different types of frozen salmon and jars of preserved smoked salmon, and tomatoes and cucumbers from her garden. Which I think was yesterday, but all the days kind of blur together, and brings us to the Mat-Su Valley area. From here my next stop is Tok (unless I decide Valdez is a go), then over the horrible frost-heave road back to the Yukon and south. At some point I’ll pick the route I’ll take to Vancouver, BC, but I have at least a week to worry about that. 

I pulled out my book to see if I should go to Valdez, and remembered that I wanted to go to Haines, which is near Skagway. After Tok, I could cross into Yukon, then connect to the Haines Highway south to get back into Alaska. That entire area is comprised of islands along the coast, serviced by ferries. I might be in Alaska for another month. This place is incredible. I could drive to Haines, load the van onto a ferry, stop at Juneau, cross the border on the water, then debark at Prince Rupert in British Columbia. Or, I could drive to Valdez and take the ferry through the Gulf of Alaska to Haines, which seems like a multi-day journey just from looking at a map. That’s probably stupid expensive, and I doubt Lucy would appreciate it. Ideally, now that I’m looking at this part of the state, I should have stayed on the Sterling Highway until it dead-ended southeast of Anchorage, then taken the ferry across the Prince William Sound to Valdez. That would have saved hundreds of miles of driving. But too late for that now. 

For only having like two actual roads in this entire section of the world, there are endless travel possibilities. And now I’m completely indecisive about where to go next. Definitely east until this section of highway ends, but then… ? I wanted to drive more today, I’ve only gone about 125 miles, but now that I’ve been sitting next to this river for a few hours I can’t imagine finding a better place to spend the night. So I’ll stay here and look for eagles and moose, sleep on the travel thoughts, and maybe wake up with a good plan. 

BTW, these pics are mostly from Homer Spit because… I’m tired.

Moose crossing

August 29, 2026

My last post was called “Denali National Park” but it didn’t really contain anything about the park itself. I was just in it. So it’ll be in here somewhere. 

After finally crossing the Alaskan border, I decided to spend the night in Tok (pronounced ‘toke’) at a campground. Showers, laundry, etc. It was so empty that Lucy and I had acres to walk (if Lucy would have gotten out of bed more). Tundra RV Park, very pretty and clean. We were exhausted from the bumpy-ass ride from the Yukon so all we could do was sleep and eat. I decided to stay another day for cleaning and relaxing, and went to the bar located at the park. It was in a beautiful room, log beams, very rustic but casual. The clientele was like I’d just walked into the American Legion with my dad. Fairly old, kinda rough looking (in the hard work way, not the criminal way). I had a couple Alaskan White ales while Lucy mobbed every person who walked close enough. She was ecstatic to be in an actual building, one that doesn’t have wheels. 

From Tok we headed to the North Pole, which is an actual city in Alaska. The entire town is Christmas themed, and the red-and-white-stripe street poles are shaped like candy canes. The McDonalds sign is on top of a candy cane pole. It wasn’t like a Christmas town from a cartoon, all pretty and gumdroppy. It was just an industrial kind of town with funny street poles, for the most part.

The big attraction at the North Pole is Christmas Village, with the ginormous Santa Claus statue and real reindeer. And gift store, of course, with an actual Santa you could sit on and tell what you want for Christmas. I’m not a huge Christmas fan, but I wanted to send postcards from the North Pole, just for fun. And the giant retail store/restaurant, with hundreds of trees covered in thousands of ornaments you could buy plus anything Christmas-related that you can possibly think of, didn’t have regular old cardboard post cards. Wtf? I was so angry. All they had were these stupidly expensive, thick 3-D type cards, so I got just a couple and mailed them.

The only reason I drove north was to go to send postcards so it seemed like a waste of a day (but if you are a Christmas super-freak then you would love it). I never wanted to go to Fairbanks, but drove through anyway so I could take the road south to Denali. If it weren’t the end of August I’d consider driving all the way north to the Arctic Ocean. Another time. 

We arrived at Denali National Park fairly early and did a scenic hike along the Nenana River. You can only drive 7 miles into the park unless you’re a commercial tour bus or have a special permit, so we stopped as far as we could go. There was a hike, but no dogs allowed, so I didn’t do it. The ranger told me that there is too much bear activity for dogs to be around. Yesterday, there was a bear in the parking lot so all the people had to jump into the buses. And a grizzly killed two moose calves nearby as well. 

The park was filled with buses and thousands of tourists and it was too crazy for me. But much less crazy than Banff or Jasper, probably because it’s so late in the season. So we went to the bottom and did another pretty hike and got back on the road.

I am now parked on the Denali Highway – 137 miles of bumpy dirt-and-gravel road. I’ve been driving around 25mph, and there’s no way I’m going to spend 5 hours driving the entire thing. But I might. The road is rough and pot-holed, but ridiculously beautiful. I’ve only driven the first 10 miles from the Cantwell (west) side so far. As you drive up the peaks of the hills you see spruce forests dotted with lakes, surrounded on all side by mountains. It’s a bit of a panic-attack area, so remote and open. 

But not lonely. Every tenth of a mile or so is a gravel pullout. Some are big enough for 5 or 6 cars, but most are 1-or-2 sized. I would’ve stopped earlier than 10 miles if an earlier one had been open. I imagine the people who are in the ones with the ‘postcard of Alaska’ views got there very early today. 

My view, however, is not to be dismissed. Under a blue sky with puffy white clouds, I see a dark green mountain range, nothing tall enough to have snow. By my estimate, they are approximately I-have-no-fucking-idea miles away. From the mountains to the van are millions of thin spruce trees. A small body of water, sparkly blue, is not far off but partially hidden by trees. This water flows to a culvert that runs under the road, and is surrounded by foot-tall light green grass with golden tassels blowing in the wind. While some of the other views are dramatic like postcards, my view would make a pleasant painting. Happy little trees.

Rear Window view

I believe those are the Talkeetna Mountains, but I’m going by my map and you know how I am with those. I am not in Denali National Park anymore, but about 25 miles away. 

I pulled into one that can easily fit 2 vehicles but I really hope no one parks next to me. I backed in and am using the rear windows to lay in bed and look for bears. That is what I’m going to be doing for the next several hours (because it’s cold and I’ve been outside quite a bit this morning). 

Front window view

August 31,2026

Ha. I hope no one parks next to me. Why do I even say that? I spotted a mama moose with a baby walking up the road toward the van, so I got out to take pictures. Yes, they were far enough away so I wouldn’t die, and Lucy stayed inside. Then they walked through the woods to the water below where I was parked, drinking from pond. Then a swan showed up. 

I was standing by the road with my camera because the entire area on both sides of the road is the private property of Ahtna, Inc, an Alaska Native corporation. They own just under two million acres, so you have to stick to the easement, no hiking. As I stood there taking pictures, a car stopped to see what I was looking at. A woman gets out with her camera. After a few minutes, another car with 4 people stops to take pictures. Then one of those jeep tours happened by, and they all stopped (13 jeeps), each adding 4 more people to the gawkers around my van (one guy was actually leaning on it, and I was going to yell at him, but the filth that probably rubbed off on his jacket is punishment enough). Then a couple more cars stopped. At one point I believe there were close to 60 people standing with me taking pictures. One woman told me that these moose were the first animals they’d seen all day, and it was getting toward sunset. It was a pleasant scene.

It was getting cold and dark so everyone left except one truck. I had gone into the van to warm up, then went back out to see if anything else had shown up. Just as I got up to the road I saw a wolf gracefully loping toward me. And I immediately backed around the van and jumped inside. No wolf pics, sad to say.

I think I mentioned the wildfire in Tok but not what I found when I got there. Which was nothing. I didn’t see or smell smoke, didn’t see a single burned tree. All available Alaska Smokejumpers were working, plus the Missoula Smokejumpers, and 7,300 acres burned (according to the news). I have no idea how I didn’t see any sign of it. 

Anyway, I decided not to drive the entire unpaved Denali highway, so we went back the way we came (10 miles), and headed south. The morning was cold and clear so Denali was visible.

I’ve been noticing as I go through my photos that Lucy looks angrier and angrier at me. I really think she is considering murdering me while I sleep.

Do you see what I mean?

We ended up stopping at Reflection Lake for a nice walk, then camping at Eagle River, a pretty spot with miles and miles of hiking trails and a fairly large river with falls and rapids. Kayakers were playing in the rapids yesterday but today is freezing and rainy and very quiet. 

Today is dedicated to cleaning the van and relaxing, and tomorrow we will continue south. I found a dog wash nearby and as mad as Lucy is at me now, wait until she’s forced to take a bath.

This caribou was from a few days ago. Cute, yeah?

Denali National Park

August 27, 2026

The Yukon river is the longest free-flowing river in the world while being the world’s longest inland Pacific salmon run (taken from the Yukon River Inter-Tribal Watershed Council). Pretty cool. At the Mile 0 campground in Dawson City, I joked with the manager about paying for a campsite with salmon on my way back; he seemed very open to that.

The Yukon begins in British Columbia and southern Yukon and ends in the Bering Sea on the west coast of Alaska, about 1980 miles. The Bering Sea is part of the northern Pacific Ocean, and separates USA from Russia by way of the Bering Strait, which connects the Pacific Ocean to the Arctic Ocean.

And this is not today’s only geography lesson. 

Another nifty fact you may have forgotten from grade-school geography is the location of the 60th parallel, and which other countries share this latitude. And the reason I’m so cold right now. It separates the southern Canadian provinces from the northern, crosses southern Alaska, and crosses Norway, Sweden, Finland, Russia, etc. I am a bit north of it right now, at 63 according to my phone. It was 39 degrees in Tok, AK last night, and Denali has snow in the forecast in a few days.

Nothing that I’m telling you about geography is anything that makes sense to me. As you probably know, I do not have directional sense, and thank god there is only one road for the majority of this trip. I have to park facing the direction I need to go in because I can never remember where I came from. After I camped at Lake Park, with no reception to power my map, I drove up to the highway and had no idea which way to go, being surrounded on all sides by mountains, lakes, rivers, forests. I sat and considered, then turned the wrong way (as I do about 87% of the time). My compass did work this time because I could only be going north or west to get to Alaska, so I U-turned. 

Last fact (but probably not). I mentioned some time ago that I spent the night at a borrow pit. I finally googled it today. A borrow pit is an excavated area where material has been dug for use as fill at another location, per Merriam-Webster. Do only rural people and construction workers know what these are? Anyway, a ditch is a borrow pit because the dirt is used to elevate the road. And the large ones, like the pond I camped near, are often filled with water and reclaimed as a wildlife area. 

The ever-helpful AI asked if I wanted some examples of a borrow pit from the web, and promptly gave me, “Noah was found dead May 16, a day after he was reported missing, in a borrow pit filled with water near his home in Jesup, Georgia…” Super helpful.

August 29, 2026

Today I am in Denali NP, and wow is it amazing. I can’t see Denali due to cloud cover, but the rest of the mountains are out. So here are some fun Denali facts, as long as there is more name change idiocy happening (Lake Ontario will always be Lake Ontario, imo). 

Denali is the highest peak in North America, and it is “Deenaalee” in Koyukon, which means “the high one.” It was called Mt. McKinley in 1896 by a gold prospector (McKinley was president at the time), and adopted by the US in 1917. The name Denali was always used in Alaska, and in 1975 the Alaskan government petitioned for a permanent change. It was denied, of course, because Ohio has always been run by douchebag politicians (birthplace of McKinley). 

Along comes Obama, and while he did not change the name, the Secretary of the Interior did before Obama visited in 2015 (over the protests from Ohio). And the name stayed as Denali, until the 2025 inauguration of our pedophile-in-chief, with executive order 14172, changing it back to Mt. McKinley, because, “President McKinley was responsible for creating a vast sum of money.” Yes, he said that. 

And how did I get to Denali? Through some pretty horrible roads. I mentioned previously that the frost heave section was not that bad, but that’s only because I hadn’t gone far enough. If you have ever driven the road to Polihale, imagine it worse than the worst it’s ever been. The potholes weren’t too bad, but the washboard was intense. I spent a lot of time driving under 10mph so my furniture wouldn’t shake apart. 

I’m about to drive the Denali Highway (not the road that partly runs through the park), and it is only paved for 24 of its 134 miles. It will probably take me all day, and I’m going to get started since I don’t want to be stuck in the mountains at night. 

Have a great day!

Damn it’s cold.

August 25, 2026

It’s been a couple days since I’ve written and I think we left off at Watson Lake. I was driving away when I remembered what it was known for – the SignPost Forest. It contains something like 100,000 signs that travelers have left. It was started in 1942 by an Illinois Army guy who was working on the highway, and was designated a Yukon  Historic site in 2013. Kinda neat, look it up. I was so disappointed by how dirty the town was that I didn’t bother to stop again to go into the forest. I’m not much of a “tourist” traveler, anyway. I’d much rather hang out somewhere quiet than have to deal with crowds of people at the popular spots.

I went through seemingly never-ending mountains again. Everything is so ridiculously beautiful. I feel like every five minutes I’m oohing or aahing at a lake or river.

The wildflowers are wonderful, and I would like to do this drive in spring sometime. Lupine is everywhere – I think that might be Alaska’s state flower? And wild roses, I think I saw an Alberta license plate with that on it. Also yarrow, which was unexpected. I’ve never loved yarrow, but it is blooming everywhere like a weed and is very pretty. For all the folks in Ohio who complain about the deer – lupine and yarrow survive with grazers like bear, moose, caribou, bison. I also saw a great planting of the really prickly perennial with the spiky ball flowers – maybe sea holly? I’ve never seen anyone with that in their garden in Ohio (although everyone sells it), but again, no one wants to eat it. 

Dragonflies seem to be everywhere, and they are enormous. Same with the ravens – they’ve been a constant since Montana and are the size of small dogs. 

Canada does a great job of putting informational signs in all of the rest stops and roadside pull-offs. History of the highway, famous people the towns are named after, local native tribes, animal species. My favorite one was a black and white photo of a couple men in suit and tie and hat (mud covered), leaning on a car (mud covered) that wasn’t much more advanced than a Model T. The car tires were on huge wood planks and a trickling brook and mud was the foundation. I don’t remember their names, but they were scouting out a path for the Alaska Highway and using the wood planks to make tracks for the car. Can you imagine being that kind of explorer? It’s crazy enough driving on already-paved roads. 

Speaking of, I’ve hit the frost heave section of the highway. It’s kind of fun, but slow going. The heaves are like giant mounds in the road, but they run pretty evenly across the entire road so as long as you go slow it’s no big deal. Not like potholes. But I can’t seem to remember to drive slow. I start daydreaming while staring at mountains and trees and all of a sudden I’m going 70 (mph, not kph) and the van drops out from below me and all the stuff on my shelves bounces and Lucy angrily headbutts me and my seat becomes a trampoline. And then I drive slow for about 45 seconds until I start daydreaming again. 

It’s not hard to daydream; very few cars are around now, and most are heading south. I stopped at the Caribou RV campground last night and the guy told me that school started this week and if I had shown up three days earlier I wouldn’t have gotten a space. This campground was pretty odd. The proprietors were (maybe) German, and the big sign on the highway boasted that they can greet you in five different languages. A French chef and an Austrian chef were there working and the restaurant had wine tasting menus and much fancier stuff than I’d imagine in a camp. An outdoor bar had TVs, and at one point Lucy and I walked by and a bunch of people were playing bingo. 

Possibly I could have been social, but this was the first time in over two weeks that I got wifi inside my van, and all I could do was catch up on crossword puzzles and veg out with Netflix. I didn’t do laundry, didn’t clean the van, just laid in bed and watched reruns of Community. Lucy refused to get out of bed so I didn’t either. It felt good to do nothing productive for an evening.

They also had a weird bathroom system, unlike any I’ve seen before. Four bathrooms in a building, and each had a toilet, sink, and shower. Which sounds good at first, but if four people were showering or peeing, I couldn’t brush my teeth in a sink. I feel like it would be a disaster when the camp was full. They had some pit toilets, but who would use those if you could help it?

There was also a motorcycle camp, and each space had a hard-sided tent with a bed and a big covered porch so people could work on their bikes under shelter. I don’t think I’ve gone 10 minutes during the entire Canadian portion of this trip without seeing a motorcycle on the road. I’m surprised how many there are, strapped with giant bags of gear, spare tires, gas cans, tents, and wow does it look like hard work. 

While I had internet I was able to look a couple things up, because I had a feeling that the tiny Yukon towns were crushing gas prices everywhere else. So here it is:

1 liter = .264172 gal or 1 gal = 3.78541 liter

1 usd = 1.38 cad

So the highest I paid for gas was $2.75cad/liter. Which is $1.99usd/liter, multiplied by 3.78541 gives you…

$10.40/gallon usd oh my god.

I do not want to see my credit card bill this month. 

Now that we’re nearing our destination (meaning hundreds of miles, not thousands), I’m gonna start slowing down. I pulled into another campground for tonight, very quiet and nestled up to a river. Lake Creek campground, one of the province-run sites. These are beautiful sites with lots of nature and space, quiet and cheap ($20cad). This one has giant piles of free firewood in little shelters, and zero trash on the ground. The downside is no running water, laundry, shower, but I much prefer these. Also no campground host, so if people are assholes you have no one to go to. But these provincial sites are everywhere, either parks or camps or hiking trails. Canadians must really love their camping. 

Right as I took this photo of the empty campground, Lucy grabbed a giant mouthful of something disgusting. I should have printed out ID photos for large animal poop, it’s everywhere. So gross. She is no longer allowed to lick me.

Lucy, as you may know, is a Plott hound. Brought from Germany to the US by a guy named Plott to hunt bears, also the state dog of North Carolina. She is in heaven with all these new animal smells, as she’s a type of scent hound. She might make me stand in one spot for five minutes so she can analyze an area. I’m hoping that this dog, who is scared of plastic bags, will remember her heritage and stand up to a bear if we ever come across one. But I bought bear spray, just in case.

I finally figured out a sign that had been puzzling me at the provincial sites. I don’t remember the exact wording, but it means that you cannot smoke pot in the campground – unless you have paid for a campsite. Then it’s fine. 

When I pulled in here I was alone. I drove through the entire place (which took 30 minutes to walk around for an idea of the size – fairly big), and not a single other person. But I don’t expect that to last, everyone has to stop somewhere for the night. 

It’s nice that I missed tourist season, but not nice that it’s getting pretty freaking cold. I haven’t gone digging in my van for long pants, but I’ll be forced to do that in a couple days. For now I’m wearing a sweatshirt and a jacket, wool socks, boots, and shorts. 

I’ve started recognizing the people traveling in the same direction as me. One woman and I are like the tortoise and the hare. I drive crazy fast, but not for long. She drives slow, but longer time. We generally end up near each other every night, or I pass her sometime during the day, or see each other at a gas station. She camped next to me one night, and her RV was very distinctive. It had a black front with a boxy white body. And Swiss plates. Now I see her everywhere. Which is weird, in a way. I have certain pieces of clothing that are just super comfortable to drive in. And yes, sometimes I wear things longer than maybe I should. But I’m clean, so I don’t care. Anyway, one day I thought ‘this woman has seen me wearing the same skort three days in a row’ and I got very self-conscious. Chances are she didn’t notice.

I haven’t seen any new animals since my last post, except a furry brown squirrel-like rodent with a short tail that runs across roads as soon as I get close to them. Death-wish rats. And I found my rivet gun and fixed my shelf. Everything else is holding steady, even after catching air.

Bison are probably my favorite land-based animal, and I hope I see more. One pull-off had a few signs about bison, and how they were nearly extinct but are starting to come back. There are two types: Wood bison and Plains bison. And the Plains bison have the scientific name: Bison bison bison. That just seems lazy.

I should get to Tok tomorrow, my first Alaskan stop. I’ve heard a bit about a wildfire there, the Mukluk fire, but I don’t know what the current situation is. Tok is a town that you have to go through in most cases, both into and out of Alaska. With so many travelers leaving Alaska, I imagine it’ll be sorted when I get there. At least the roads near the highway. Lots of rain in the forecast for the next week, so I’ll see tonight, I guess.

As a side note, I absolutely love listening to Canadian radio when I can get a signal. Especially the news shows right now, all of which talk so much shit about our pedophile president. When Canadians decide not to be friendly, they do a good job. 

Wildlife seen:

caribou

ptarmigan

bison

moose

black bear

roadkill bison

rocky mountain sheep

eagle

osprey

mule deer

garter snake

traffic bear

fox

roadkill moose

pileated woodpecker

black-billed magpie 

raven

Books read:

Scythe – Neal Shusterman

Thunderhead – Neal Shusterman

The Toll – Neal Shusterman

Gleanings – Neal Shusterman

Dungeon Crawler Carl – Matt Dinniman (goddammit, Donut)

Welcome to Yukon! (I’m a long way from home)

August 21, 2026

Lucy and I spent one night at the Mile 0 Campground in Dawson Creek then headed north on the Alaska Highway. This entire section of Canada, from some ways before Dawson Creek to the Northern Rockies, seems to be industrial in nature. Semi trucks are far more prevalent than RVs now, although plenty of those are still driving south, and the trucks are hauling trees, gravel, oil, whatever can be mined up here. Gas and timber companies have huge camps, while signs on every dirt road tell you what company is set up in that direction. Chevron, Weyerhauser, a ton of names I’ve never heard of. 

I am currently stopped for the night at Borrow Pit #4, which is in Prophet River First Nation territory, south of Ft Nelson (depicted in none of the photos below). I’m not sure what a borrow pit is (and have no cell signal to find out), but they are recreation sites with a picnic table and pit toilet. Some have camping, some have a lake or river. I didn’t stop at them all. The reason I’m stopped at this one is because it is seemingly a million miles away from anything. No lights, no people, just long-ago burned forests and wildflowers and a long, long road heading to mountains in either direction.

The other reason I am here is the red, italicized print in my book that says, “Watch for moose on the road, especially at dusk.” The other warning for this part of the road is “Watch for bears (grizzly and black) on the side of the road.” So around dusk I got out of the van to watch the sunset and moonrise. I was just thinking about how amazingly peaceful it is here – no people, barely any cars, just nature – and you can probably guess what happened. A massive semi hauling farm equipment and supplies pulled in right next to me, blocking my view of potential moose, smothering the peacefulness with a running engine. 

The trailer that the truck is hauling is around the size of two regular semis, and the guy managed to maneuver it, backwards, into the tiny space next to me. He only had a 2-lane road with steep drop-offs at the berms to accomplish this, and it was damn impressive. The driver and a young boy got out, both with fishing poles, so I will definitely concede that I am the person encroaching on someone else’s territory. 

The sky is a pretty orange and blue, and will be dark soon. No moose. I’m beginning to think that they are made up, maybe they don’t really exist except in wildlife parks where you are far away and can’t tell that it’s actually a horse with huge antlers affixed to its head. 

August 22, 2026

Ok, I finally saw a moose, and it was awesome. And not make believe. It was standing on the side of the road, perfectly still until the car in front of me approached, at which point it bolted into the road in front of him. No moose were hurt. Or people. I also saw a black bear running along the side of the road, and a very dead bison with its legs up in the air. The signs now all warn of wild bison in the road.

I’m still in the northern rockies, north of Ft Nelson, not sure exactly where I am. The scenery is miles and miles of forests and mountains. Beautiful and a bit scary, sharing a 2-lane road, up and down these steep grades, with massive semis. I was a bit terrified of driving in mountains at first, not having much practice in the past 30 years, but now it’s no big deal. 

Just past Toad River I saw a ptarmigan and some sheep. I am not certain what type of sheep, and again, no cell service. I’m not going to go back and correct these when I get internet, so if I remember I’ll look up the sheep later. Big. Brown body white head. Horns that curved back toward its shoulders, but not curling. And I only know I saw a ptarmigan because it was standing quite close to an information sign with its ID. 

August 23, 2026

Lucy and I spent the night at a roadside pull-through and were lucky enough to watch some caribou grazing along the berm, just a few feet from the van. I got out to take photos and was instantly swarmed by tiny gnats. So I had to content myself with photos from inside, which wasn’t bad since it had been raining and my windshield was pretty clean (although now the inside is covered with bloody blots from trying to squish as many as possible before going to bed).

For now I’m going to be posting only iPhone pics in this blog since getting photos from the big cameras, resizing, and uploading is too much for the tiny bits of cell service I’ve found. 

The roads have been fairly good so far, but I know up ahead is days of driving the frost heave sections. A woman I met in Dawson Creek told me that she lost two windows on those roads from semis kicking up chunks of rock. I’m a bit nervous about my shelves and my lack of construction talent. I already have one shelf loose, the smallest one, because it bounced and one of the rivets snapped. At our next stop I’ll dig the drill and box of screws out of the back storage and see if I can repair it before heading out again. 

You may remember from past writing that I lost my big shelf on a test run to New Orleans and had to sleep with it resting on the foot of the bed for the remainder of the trip. Unpleasant. When I got back, I replaced all the brackets with hurricane brackets, and added more supports. I’m hoping these hold, cross fingers. I should probably scramble up to the roof and tug on the solar panels to see how they’re holding up.

I finally saw some bison, part of the Wood Bison herd that free-ranges up here. Monstrously huge. And they all had collars on. 

Lucy and I just pulled into Watson Lake and have cell service so I’m going to wrap this up. I thought we’d stay the night here, fix the van, relax, but the town is a dump. Garbage everywhere. The RV park is a giant gravel lot, each person getting about two parking spots of space. Hard pass. I should have just kept driving when I saw the giant hand-painted “Mar-a-Lago North” sign attached to some hillbilly’s shack. 

can you see my tiny little van in this pic?

Wildlife seen:

CARIBOU!

ptarmigan

BISON!

MOOSE!

BLACK BEAR!

roadkill bison

rocky mountain sheep

eagle

osprey

mule deer

garter snake

traffic bear

something very large and moose/elk shaped

fox

roadkill moose

pileated woodpecker

black-billed magpie 

raven

Books read:

Scythe – Neal Shusterman

Thunderhead – Neal Shusterman

The Toll – Neal Shusterman

Gleanings – Neal Shusterman

Dawson Creek, BC

I’m not really in a hurry, but I sort of am. I very much do not want to get stuck in snow, and with how crazy the weather seems lately who knows when that might start. Because of that, I’m trying a new way of travel. On my last trips, I always found campgrounds to stay at, and usually stayed two nights in a row somewhere. This trip, at least on the way to Alaska, I’m just staying wherever I end up when I’m tired of driving. So I’ve stayed in rest stops, parks, parking lots, anywhere I won’t get kicked out. The van is the perfect vehicle for that – totally self-contained, no trailer. Except for walking Lucy, I don’t need to go outside. I don’t fool myself that I look like a regular work van, though, or that no one knows I’m camping. I’m in the literal Land Of RVs right now, I’ve never seen so many everywhere. The towns are so small that if the locals don’t know you, you must be in an RV. 

From north of Banff to here has been seemingly millions of campers. There is a campsite on most every corner. The parking lots in Banff NP and Jasper NP were full, and they can accommodate hundreds at a time. Paving over acres and acres so people could come see nature. Not that I am arguing against it, I am taking full advantage. 

Other new things on this trip: the roof vent/fan, which is amazing. It makes the difference between going on trips in the van and living in the van (but definitely not in the snow).

As soon as I crossed the border into Canada, except that whole getting lost part, the parks and trails have been plentiful. My original idea was to drive for an hour, spend the day at a park, then drive until I was tired of it and find a place to sleep. At first I’d see a sign for a waterfall hike or lake and immediately pull off. I hadn’t planned driving this route so I didn’t know what to expect. But I soon learned that there is a nature pull-off  every 10 minutes. And they are all spectacular. The Provincial Park system keeps everything clean, and they all have a restroom. All pit toilets – ugh, gross – but they are the least offensive that I’ve seen. And they make you remember to check which pocket your phone is in, without fail.

There are so many nature stops that I had to start limiting myself to only the ones on the right-hand side of the road. Even then, I barely saw any of them. I had to start logging my mileage because one day I realized I had stopped seven times within 100 miles (161 kilometers!). That’s a little too many. 

As I mentioned earlier, Banff was crazy crowded. My only planned stop was Lake Louise, and each parking lot had a “Full” sign. Jam smashed full of RVs. So I got gas and moved on without seeing it. But everyone seems to be driving south (possibly I am the only idiot headed north now) so I’ll hit it on my way back south.  

I’m glad I got gas, since they get very far in between in the mountains. I skipped one, the line looked longer than my patience, and I ended up regretting that. The next one was in the town of Jasper on the north side of Jasper NP. And when I say one, I mean only one. Thousands of RVs parked everywhere, half the town fenced off for construction. I saw the line for the station and – hell, no. But the next one was far, far north, so I U-turned and got in line. It reminded me of the lines for the gas rationing in the ‘70s (of which I’ve only seen pictures). Lots of unhappy-looking people sitting in a line in their vehicles with the engines off, signs pointing toward gas. The station itself was a shit show, since even the ginormous RVs and people pulling trailers had to come to this tiny 4-pump station. I waited over 10 minutes (cry me a river, right?), then was finally pulling up to a pump when some guy in a pickup truck cut me off. At that point, I had been driving through mountains all day, Lucy was a stressed-out nightmare, and I hadn’t eaten in hours. I was irrationally furious. But I limited myself to hateful stares when his back was turned because I didn’t want an “Americans are all assholes” label, which is super easy to come by. Speaking of stereotypes, though, I never met a Canadian who wasn’t polite so getting cut off by a local was surprising. It reminded me of having to go to “downtown” Hanapepe every day for work and getting stuck in traffic because tourists were stopping in the middle of the road to take photos. Much, much smaller scale, but I could empathize with his state of mind (although not til after I had gotten out of town, eaten, and slept). 

Toward the north end of Jasper, which between Banff and Jasper is a drive of never-ending, oh-my-god-I’m-so-tired-of-mountains mountains, I was so ready to get out of the van. Lucy has been a wreck, even with multiple nature walks, and she will not – for a single moment – sit down during a drive. She has to be pressed up against my arm, straining so hard at the cargo net that keeps her in the back that she cuts off her breathing and I have to push her backwards. I am constantly covered in drool and fur, and I don’t know why she isn’t bald from the constant shedding. The worst is when she has her wet, rubbery dog lips on my arm leaving a slime trail. Even with a drool towel covering me and all the stuff in the front, it’s gross. So, tired and annoyed, I’m finally driving out of the mountains (this was before the gas station) and I see a traffic jam in the 2-lane road. Both sides are stopped and dozens of cars line both the lanes and the berms. I thought it was an accident, but it was a black bear. Everyone had slammed on their brakes to take pictures. You could barely see it, and all I wanted to do was keep driving, but it was impossible. A couple motorcycles were able to get around, but no one else. I was so looking forward to my first bear sighting, and it was lame. I threw my iPhone into the side window and took a picture since I was stuck there anyway, but, lame. 

Can you spot the bear in this photo?

Speaking of wildlife, I’m going to start a running list of animals I’ve seen, just so I remember. I did finally see a moose, but the poor thing was dead on the side of the road. Freshly dead. I saw the guy who hit it pulled over, talking on his phone. Just like the bear, I don’t want to count this as my first official moose sighting. 

With the million highway signs warning of beer, deer, moose, sheep, “wild game” crossing the road, I guess I expected more. But I have a long, long road ahead so I’ll try to be more patient. 

Finally out of the mountains for a short amount of time, I promised Lucy a full “Lucy Day,” which is 24 hours without driving anywhere. We pulled into “Mile 0 Campground,” where we are alternating long walks and naps. And I got to shower and do laundry. Heaven. 

Mile 0 is the start of the Alaska (Alcan) Highway in Dawson Creek, BC. From here it is north to Tok, AK, where you have drive through to get both in and out of Alaska, and which is currently on fire. 

I would like to add that I am writing this without any AI help. You may have already guessed that from the typos and bad grammar, but I’m always in a hurry to get my posts out when I have a decent signal, which is not often lately. I just wanted to clarify that.

Wildlife seen:

rocky mountain sheep

eagle

osprey

mule deer

garter snake

traffic bear

something very large and moose/elk shaped

fox

roadkill moose

pileated woodpecker

black-billed magpie 

Books read:

Scythe – Neal Shusterman

Thunderhead – Neal Shusterman

The Toll – Neal Shusterman

I’ll probably start more running lists, if you have any interesting ideas let me know. I’m thinking of a wildflower list, but I don’t always have internet to identify them. Everything looks familiar, but different enough from the flowers I know to make ID 100% positively. Maybe a list of things that would make the van better, or repairs I need to do. 

I sincerely hope you are enjoying my posts. I am out of the writing habit but am trying to start again. Even if you don’t care, I’m enjoying the writing process. But really, thanks for reading.