bird watching – Wildlife and Flower Photography by Melissa Burovac

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.

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

Roadtrip to Alaska part 2

I’m not sure where I left off and don’t have enough reception to read my last blog, but rest assured that nothing exciting happened between my last post and Fargo, ND.

But I would like to mention that Fargo is the only place I have ever been where every single person on the highway obeyed the 55 mph speed limit through downtown. It was a twilight zone moment.

Fog kept me off the road for a couple of mornings through North Dakota and Montana. The 80 mph speed limit, plus visibility of about 50 yards, was fine for the locals and morning traffic proceeded as normal. But I was fairly freaked out and safely sat out the hours in random parking lots. One morning I was about to head back out after my Wordle game, and the word was “crash.” So no, I took a nap instead.

I hadn’t intended on driving this far west in the US, but wildfire maps showed too much activity above Michigan and Wisconsin, so I accepted an invitation to visit Kari, Keith, Kiara, and Kaz in Rexford, MT. I stopped at Theodore Roosevelt NP to see some bison, of which there were none. So I used the opportunity to figure out how to manually shift the van for the mountain passes. I just got new front brakes, but I’d like them to last for longer than this trip. It rained, rained, and rained from nearly the start of the trip until I got to Rexford.

In case you’re wondering, Kaz is a dog. He’s a tiny ball of fur who looks like a Huskie, and I know his breed but I’m sitting in Canada and don’t want to waste my data on looking up how to spell it. The K’s have a cool spot on Lake Koocanusa, and we spent a couple days having cocktails on a boat and catching up.

So fun fact: Keith told me that 90-mile-long Koocanusa lake was named via a naming contest. It is made up of “Koo” (it is in the Kootenai mountains), “can” (half the lake is in Canada), “usa” (half the lake is in US). Clever. The first day, we boated just over the Canadian border and jumped in the water. Just because we could. You may be wondering how they knew where the border was – the forest was clearcut up both sides of the mountains, making a very distinct border marking.

After a couple days of boating, walking, and badminton, I had to head out to keep (somewhat) to a schedule. My only concern is to get back south before it snows. I know it’s only August, but still. I don’t want to get stuck.

At the moment, I’m somewhere in the Canadian Rockies, about 250 (kilometers? miles?) south of Banff. I didn’t have reception for a while and lost my maps (and since I never planned to come this far west I didn’t print maps for the area), so I was driving by compass. The mountains all look the same to me, so I couldn’t navigate by sight. But even with my compass, I somehow ended up at a different USA/Canada border crossing than I originally crossed at. I don’t even want to think about how I managed that.

Banff was never on my travel route, but Lake Louise has always been on my list of places to see, so it’s all good.

So far I’ve seen an eagle, osprey, mule deer, and one cute garter snake that Lucy thought was quite frightening. It seems like every mile or so I see bear and wildlife warnings, so I hope to report that I’ve seen some big animals next time.

A roadtrip to Alaska

The day has finally arrived – I’m starting my next trip with a drive to Alaska. Or, at least I hope so. Cross fingers no early snowstorms or I’ll turn left and head down to warmer weather like a giant chicken.

I don’t really remember how Alaska popped into my head, but I do recall one day telling a couple coworkers that I’d like to drive there someday. Then someone different had heard and asked me when I’m going to Alaska, then all of a sudden it seemed like a done deal without giving it the proper consideration that such a long drive deserves.

So I considered it. Not so much the length of time or the road conditions, but all the amazing things I could see along the way: moose, bears, eagles, bison, so much incredible scenery – how could I not go? Then I actually started looking at maps and realized I better pack the big-girl panties.

To prepare Little Red, my fantastic Promaster, I cut a giant hole in the roof and installed a fan. That was terrifying. I’ve never purposely put a hole in a car. A complete tuneup, a new actuator so I’ll have heat, and new all-terrain tires, plus about a thousand pounds of food and water and books and we’re ready to roll.

We’re currently sitting at a rest area in Paw Paw, Illinois, waiting out a massive storm. Lucy is not happy. But it’s a good time to make sure the new roof vent doesn’t leak. The van is getting pummeled by wind and hopefully the “brief tornadoes” don’t come our way.

Since I have nothing exciting to report, I’ll throw in my last summer photos from Cleveland and update more later.

Also, my Etsy shop is currently all digital while I travel. Photos are available for purchase, but only as downloads for now. When I have some space to matte again, I’ll change it back to a normal shop.

Have a great day!

The Story of Little Red

My van’s name is Little Red, and she’s a Ram Promaster. I haven’t written a thing since my car accident, so telling her story is my first attempt at getting my brain back in gear.

Lucy and I are currently camped in the woods in Big South Fork NP at the Blue Heron campgrounds in Kentucky, close to the Tennessee border. My intention is to start my next book, which has been on my mind for a couple years now, and a change of scenery seemed like it was needed to get back to work.

In March of 2021 I was sitting at a red light near downtown Cleveland and a guy (on his phone) smashed into the back of my pickup truck. He didn’t even attempt to brake, resulting in two demolished vehicles, years of doctors visits (for me), and stranding me in Ohio. That’s all I’ll say about the accident, since anyone who knows me already knows the details. The worst part for me has been the inability to do anything creative with my brain, being fogged from so much medication.

I only had a few weeks of rental car insurance and was under pressure to buy a vehicle, so I got a Subaru Forester, thinking it could be a nice adventure car. The main problem was how low it was to the ground, and every time someone got too close behind me I had panic attacks and had to pull over. Lucy and I had spent most of the covid time driving around the country in my pickup, and I wanted to continue by visiting my sister in New Orleans. I made it just over the Ohio/Kentucky border when I had to stop and turn around. Driving had become far too stressful. I hadn’t been working due to chronic headaches, so I went back to Cleveland and got a part-time job at a grocery store that was an easy 3-minute drive. And that was the rut I got stuck in for far too long.

I’m sure everyone saw pics and videos of people working remotely from vans and RVs during covid, and that’s where the idea of Little Red came from. If I was too low to the ground for comfort, I’d get a giant van. If I was super stressed from driving, I’d throw a bed in the back so I could pull over and relax whenever I needed to. I traded out the Subaru and bought a used, empty cargo van, and then it started to snowball. Why not install a refrigerator so I don’t have to keep stopping for food and ice? And how will I power that refrigerator? Let’s add some solar panels and lithium batteries. Since I’m adding power, I’ll get a microwave for cooking. Now I need to raise the bed off the floor and build cabinets for food storage, and give Lucy a place to sleep. A sink for washing dishes, and shelves for clothes and books and all the day-to-day necessities.

Besides making bird houses, I have never built anything. I searched Youtube to see how other people had designed their mobile living spaces, and with a table saw and cordless drill, I got to work.

I won’t say that the outcome will win any design or workmanship awards, but it gets the job done. I started with insulation, which was probably the most time-consuming part of the project. And in retrospect, I wish I had done a bit more. But with the addition of a floor and a ceiling, I wanted to be able to stand up straight in the back, so I kept it minimal. The only real mishap was the shelving above the foot of the bed, which came crashing down on an unexpected and very deep pothole on a trip to New Orleans (which I completed, unlike the last attempt). Thankfully, it only crashed on top of the bed, but I had to spend the next couple weeks sleeping with shelves occupying the space where my feet should have been. My microwave became load-bearing, since my cooking shelf sagged just enough in the middle to rest on top of it. When I got back to Cleveland, I reinstalled the shelf and added support brackets to everything, just in case.

I spent about a year building, with short trips to test everything out and get used to driving again. Lucy and I have recently been to all the Great Lakes, Canada, and oceans on both sides of the country, with visits to family and friends along the way. I’ve had trouble with the solar, and had to spend a day at a rest area in North Dakota taking it all apart to find the problem (which means taking apart a section of the bed since I thought I’d be clever and stash the inverter and batteries in an out-of-the-way spot).
The solar has been the biggest issue since it has so many moving parts. After an initial successful installation with my friend Craig, I found myself without power on several occasions during trips, and at least now I can service it blindfolded. Considering I almost burned down the van a couple times when starting out, that’s impressive to me. I added an extra inverter powered by the cigarette lighter to charge the batteries after some time in Portland with very little sun. When I first installed the solar panels on top of the roof I didn’t drive on the highway for weeks for fear they’d fly off, and now I’m finally confident that I’m not as bad at building things as I thought.

Little Red isn’t finished, though. Project burnout and lack of extra money have delayed the final two items I want to install – a ceiling vent fan and a side window in the sliding door. The window should be easy enough, and cutting a giant hole in the van roof doesn’t scare me (after ripping out my beautiful wood ceiling). Looking through the schematics of wiring the fan, it somehow seems more complicated than the entire solar system, so maybe when I’m stuck inside this winter I’ll give it a go.

That’s the condensed version of the story of Little Red. I could go into a lot more detail on the build and the side trips, but I’ve accomplished my goal of sitting and writing, and for now I’m happy.
Lucy and I are heading out now for a hike, and maybe a nap later. It’ll be a good day. I do wish we were at the ocean, maybe with some scuba diving, but that’ll have to be the next trip.
PS – I have very little reception so I’m writing as quickly as I can – please excuse the typos for now 🙂

Have a great day, everyone!

Labor Day Sale

Now through September 6th

All photos and books are 25% off!

Go to https://hawaiioceanphotos.etsy.com

Everything on sale – including both print and digital photos

Head over to the Etsy Store to see the newly added digital photos. These make great last-minute gifts – no shipping delays, just download and print!

If you see a photo on any of the socials (or here) that you’d like printed, just send me a message!

Happy Labor Day!

Summer Love

Birds, Bees, and Blooms

A little bit of summer

Gigantic bumblebees this year

And supercute goldfinches

Haven’t seen many butterflies yet, but plenty of hummingbirds

A brief visit by a Monarch butterfly and a couple Swallowtail sightings is all we’ve had. Hopefully we’ll get more soon, and maybe the milkweed will get some use.

The Vermillionaire Cuphea is the preferred hummingbird flower, by far.

Head over to the Etsy Store to see the newly added digital photos. These make great last-minute gifts – no shipping delays, just download and print! If you see a photo on any of the socials (or here) that you’d like printed, just send me a message!

Happy Summer!

Thanksgiving weekend sale 🦃

Get a jump on your holiday shopping with a weekend sale at the Hawaii Ocean Photos Etsy Shop. All items – printed photos, digital photos, and books – are 25% off all weekend.