Living In My Car

Crazy guys on bikes

July 19, 2010 – 5:00 am

“Do you have my chocolate?” the half naked man queries me.

I’ve stopped my Mini on the Dempster Highway, alarmed by the site of this bedraggled bicyclist in the arctic wilderness.

“Your what? Are you okay?”

He slumps down on his bike, “Oh, I thought you were my chocolate. I gave $10 to a passing car, asking them to get me chocolate and send it back down the road with someone. I thought it was you.”

Struck by his strange method of Dempster communications and exchange, I try to keep him engaged in a conversation. I’m not convinced that this daring bicyclist hasn’t become delirious out here on the road.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any chocolate. Do you need something to eat? Some water?”

He refuses my offer, indicating he has plenty of both.

“Where are you going?” I continue.

“Inuvik! Where all the tourists go!”

“And where did you start?”

“Seattle, Washington!”

I eye his very lightly packed bike, “You rode from Seattle with just these things?”

“Yes!” he beams.

Finally convinced he is of as sound a mind as anyone trekking up this highway, we say goodbye.

I ended up staying in Inuvik for over a week, resting, touring, and waiting for a pretty day to drive back. I didn’t think it was possible, but the drive down seemed every more magical than the drive up.

But the midnight sun really plays tricks with your mind. I had no idea how much I subconsciously orient myself in time and space by the movement of the sun.

I couldn’t quite figure out where it went during the course of a day, so I decided that when I got back to my pretty campsite at the arctic circle, I would stay up all night and watch its movements.

campsite at Eagle Plains

(In case you are curious, here is a time lapse photograph of the midnight sun by Anufl Husmo.)

Back on the road late the next day, I’m again perplexed by the sight of yet another man alone in the road. He’s waving a white t-shirt, so I pull up alongside of him.

“Hey, thanks for stopping. I flatted and was wondering if you could tell my buddies.” He points to his motorcycle in the gravel pull out.

“Uh, sure. Where are your buddies?”

“They should be just up the road, stopped somewhere waiting for me. Just tell them I flatted.”

“Are you stuck out here? Do you want me to give you a ride?”

“Oh, no,” glancing back at his BMW bike. “Please just look for them and tell them to bring me a tire.”

Not seeing the logic of his decision, I leave him abandoned on the roadway, picking up my pace in hopes of coming across his friends.

I drive for three hours. Coming upon the last few miles of the Dempster, I am stopped by my two friends from my first day!

We've been waiting for hours

Finally pulling into the mile zero truck stop. I see two guys on motorcycles. They look beat to hell after an all day ride on the Dempster.

“Are you waiting for your friend?”

“Yes!” I see their relief.

“He’s up the road about three hours. He wants you to bring him a tire.”

I see their despair.

And with that, my Dempster adventure was done!

Let's go to Alaska!

The Arctic Ocean! I made it!

July 6, 2010 – 5:00 am

I made it! It's cold!

I made it to the Arctic Ocean!

Since there is no road access to the ocean in the summer, I had to fly the last 60 miles to Tuktoyaktuk, Northwest Territories, a tiny Inuvialuit community right on the ocean.

Rain delayed my flight, so I camped in the parking lot of the tour operator that was booking my trip.

After two days of hanging around, blue skies finally break through and I get a knock on my door, “If you want to go, we have to go right now!”

We make our way to the airport and I see the tiny Cessna that will be flying me to Tuk.

I’m not afraid of flying. But I am anxious about riding in an old single engine plane piloted by an unknown boy who looks like he hasn’t graduated high school — especially when I seem to be designated the emergency co-pilot.

This is my seat?

I also know that flying is all about checklists and details, so, looking down, I’m hoping that the guy making the plane safety signs is not the same guy in charge of plane safety.

laning, failue, and safefty

The flight to Tuktoyaktuk is extraordinary, and from the sky you can see why there is no road access in the summer. In winter, there is, as they just drive over all of these bodies of water on the winter ice road.

Upon arrival, I meet my tour guide, a local Inuvialuit woman from the community.

She actually pronounced the long version for me. It means, "Resembling a caribou"

Tuktoyaktuk, or Tuk, is a community that still depends heavily on fishing and whaling for food, so the tiny town is surrounded by seaside smokehouses where families cure fish and beluga whale meat:

Smoke house and pingo in Tuktoyaktuk Northwest Territories

A smoke house and pingo in background (a natural land and ice formation found only in the arctic)

Happy Inuvialuit boys going fishing

I was also given a tour of the community ice house. A catacomb-like series of hallways and rooms, the underground storage facility is used by the entire community to store their catches of fish, caribou, and beluga whale meat. (And, presumably, anything you’d like to keep frozen.)

A tour of the ice house also lets you see what the permafrost (permanently frozen ground) actually looks like.

This tour is not for the timid. You have to descend down an icy, and sometimes bloody, ladder into the frozen earth:

Ladder to Ice House in Tuktoyaktuk Northwest Territories

Jennifer, come on!

I'm as scared as I look

After the tour of the ice house, we headed to the ocean.

I collected rocks, dipped my feet into the icy water, took photos, and got kind of emotional.

It has been such a long journey. I emerged from my deep depression almost a year and a half ago. Getting healthier and developing a clearer mind, I realized I needed to simplify my life – to shed all of the excessive materialistic ’stuff’ that I’d surrounded myself with (and gone broke collecting).

At some early point, as you know, I started to blog about it. I started to connect with others online who had simplified and gone nomadic, were in the process of doing it, or, like me, were just hoping to.

As I was walking along the ocean, I couldn’t believe that I’d made it to this point. That I actually had gotten healthier, that I had simplified my materialistic life, and that I’d taken a journey I was terrified of taking.

I also felt a little sad that this trip was over. I recognize that I still have to drive back down the Dempster and Alaska Highway, but it is different. I don’t feel so frightened by it, but I guess that is the whole point.

I’ve met many women along the road who’ve said to me, “Wow, I’d be too afraid to do that,” and I always reply, “Oh, I am very afraid!”

People have also suggested that I was trying to ‘conquer’ something in my quest to cross the continent, but I don’t feel like I’m trying to conquer anything either.

I feel like I have become more aware of myself as someone who is more connected to a larger world around me. It is not just my extended visits to beautiful natural environments that has cultivated that sense of connection. This blog that I meant to use as a mere record of my journey evolved into an unexpected instrument for it.

But I’m headed to Alaska for a long visit with my husband, so the blog might be quiet for just a little while.

I don’t know where I’ll head from there. I will continue to post updates, but they might be less frequent.

In the meantime, I hope those of you who are in this process will take the time to blog and share your journey with the rest of us.

Thank you for sharing this journey with me!

Take care,

Jennifer

By Jennifer | Posted in I did it!, mental health, on blogging, reflections (mine) | Comments (46)

End of the Dempster!

July 3, 2010 – 5:00 am

I’ve finished the Dempster! I’ve got a busted tail pipe, broken exterior steps, and maybe one slow leak in a rear tire, but I finished it!

I am exhausted.

I will head to the airport tomorrow to find out about flights. I’m only 60 miles from the Arctic Ocean!

Here are some pictures and videos of today’s drive. It was a little easier than yesterday. I, again, lucked out with pretty blue skies.

Warning: Your roadway is also a runway

My Mini on the tundra

Gwich'in Elder explaining the midnight sun at a rest stop

Ferry crossing number one on day two of Dempster

One of two ferry crossings today

click here for transcripts of videos

By Jennifer | Posted in Dempster Highway, I did it!, beautiful places | Comments (18)

The Arctic Circle!

July 2, 2010 – 5:00 am

What a drive today. That was tough.

I had no idea what six and a half hours of washboard, potholed, slick, muddy road driving was like.

And, now, I do.

I get to do that three more times and I think I’m done for life!

After the first 100 miles, I didn’t think I was going to make it. Every time I’d hit an especially rough patch, I’d tense up my body. After three hours of that, I was completely worn out and didn’t know how I would survive 800 more miles of the same.

Desperate, I recognized that I had to focus on keeping my body relaxed as I hit the hard spots and flew around on the road.

I realized that it was not so much the Dempster that was wearing me out, but my overly tense response to it. (Seems to be a theme in my life.)

Once I remembered to loosen up, it got a lot easier. That said, it was a constant mantra that I had to keep repeating to myself and did not come naturally.

(The mantra also didn’t help when I was going down a muddy decline, felt my Mini loosing traction, and started to slide sideways down the hill.)

***

Okay, so now that I’ve told you how challenging it was, I can show you how extraordinary it was!

I was a lucky driver with a rare blue sky day.

This must be the arctic

Early in the morning on the Dempster Highway

Not much traffic

I saw my second moose in Two Moose Lake

The long and winding Dempster

click here for transcripts of videos

By Jennifer | Posted in Dempster Highway, I did it!, beautiful places, overwhelm | Comments (13)

Mile Zero of the The Dempster Highway

July 1, 2010 – 5:00 am

“Did you just come off the Dempster?”

“Yes!” the man washing his mud caked RV angrily barks back at me.

More tentatively, “uh, how was it?”

“Dreadful! Awful! It rained all the way up and all the way back! We almost went right off the road! It was awful!”

I didn’t know a road could make a person so angry. Despite my desperate desire for more information, I decide not to ask him any more questions.

Entering the lobby of the truck stop that serves as ground zero for the Dempster, I try to find reassurance from the woman behind the desk.

“So how is the Dempster? Will I really get a flat tire?”

fuel containers for rent

“Well, it has been raining for two days and yes, people do get some flat tires. You should be carrying spares and extra fuel.”

“And you have tow services here, correct? If I have car trouble I can call here to get towed?”

She laughs, “Oh, well, our tow truck broke down. So, no, we wouldn’t be able to come get you.”

I’m sure I’ll think that was funny later.

***

I’ve had more moments of extreme panic about this trip than I’ve posted on this blog. I figured one or two posts were enough, but my fearfulness comes more frequently than that.

As my sister, Joey, reminded me, “Jennifer, you used to drive past two grocery stores because you had anxiety attacks when you tried to shop in an unfamiliar one! You have come a long way!”

At this moment, I feel that I have come a long way. I even have an unexpected sense of having completed my journey here, at Mile Zero of the Dempster.

Not because I am not going to try to do it, I am. But because getting to this point was actually the hardest part for me. Getting to the point where I show up, well prepared, with a willingness to do something that is very scary for me.

I hope you will indulge me here, but right now, I feel very proud of myself. I feel proud of myself for being brave. I feel proud of myself for being afraid and for still moving forward.

I’ve done everything I can to prepare and if the Dempster proves to be impassable for me, that part is simply out of my hands.

I am actually more excited than afraid this evening.

I’ve planned this for almost a year. I can’t believe I am actually here.

The Starting Line

By Jennifer | Posted in Dempster Highway, I did it!, reflections (mine) | Comments (16)

Engine Oil

June 28, 2010 – 5:00 am

Driving to Whitehorse, I am all alone in the middle of the Yukon when, to my horror, the engine oil pressure warning indicator on my dash lights up.

Now, I have only ever bought and driven cheap, base model economy cars, so I am not used to a lot of fancy lights, warnings, and gentle reminders.

So when I see this:

Which I later learn from my owner’s manual means:

Excuse me driver, not to bother you, but it is possible that your oil has fallen somewhere below the halfway point on the max and min range. You might want to check it at your earliest convenience.

I instead read this:

Hey genius, you drained your oil pan a while back. Pull over, this thing is totaled.

It completely freaked me out. Am I misunderstanding this? I haven’t ever had an oil indicator light come on in my car before. I always thought it was an almost catastrophic warning indication.

But, maybe I’m just a bit too anxious or confused.

Anyway, it just blinked on and then back off. I checked the owner’s manual (which stated what I noted previous, that it was just a minor indication), checked the oil, confirmed that it was below the halfway point, and decided I was okay to drive the next 100 miles into Whitehorse.

I was lucky to discover a Dodge dealer in Whitehorse who checked everything out for me.

I stuck around for an extra day to get an oil change. (I was hoping to get it done after I drove the Dempster, in Anchorage.)

I also stocked up on some Dempster Highway emergency supplies at the local Walmart.

Having been told by Bob W. that they had 10 ply tires and got one flat, but that they met someone with 4 ply tires that got 4 flats. I was trying to figure out where I stood with my tires.

I don’t really know what I have. I know how to check the date code. I know how to find my tire size. I know to stick a penny in it to check the tread.

I think they might be 7 ply.

So, I was trying to do the math:

(10 ply tires + 4 ply tires = 1 flat + 4 flats)/2

(14ply=5flats)/2

7 ply = 2.5 flats.

Does that work?

If so, I’m gonna get two and a half flats.

(But with six tires, maybe it’s higher. I couldn’t figure out that equation.)

Since both the Milepost and the Web site for the town of Inuvik say you should carry two spares, I decided to buy a spare-spare.

The spare-spare doesn’t have a rim, so I would still need to use the service station at Eagle Plains, but I’ve learned that you really do need to carry your own spare parts around here.

(I do have everything I need to change ONE flat.)

Next problem: Where can I store the spare-spare?

Under the sofa? Too short.

In my big basement storage? Not gonna work.

In front of the passenger seat? Can’t close the door.

Aha! I’ve got it!

And perfectly disguised.

***

Question: Hey, Ms. Mechanic, Why weren’t you carrying extra oil?

Answer: Because I’m an idiot. And because I didn’t know what PPL put in and was advised not to mix oils. I thought I could make it to Anchorage for the oil change. (I did buy extra oil from the Dodge dealer this time.)

***

By Jennifer | Posted in Alaska Highway, mishaps, mistakes, and misadventures, rv maintenance and repair | Comments (17)

ABC

June 25, 2010 – 5:01 am

I’ve done A to B, now just have to get to C!

***

While Googling for info on driving The Dempster Highway, I wasn’t too happy to read this one. I know it is rough, but he is just trying to be melodramatic, isn’t he?

Daring to drive the Dempster

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/article411154.ece

By Jennifer | Posted in Alaska Highway/Dempster Highway, Uncategorized | Comments (7)

Alaska Highway Stop Sign

June 25, 2010 – 5:00 am

Uh, okay.

By Jennifer | Posted in Alaska Highway, Uncategorized | Comments (3)

Can you believe this? On the drive to Watson Lake.

June 24, 2010 – 5:00 am

It is so freaky when a bear turns and looks right at you. (I jumped back into my car.)

I stopped at a rest stop, but this little guy was already there. (I didn't get out of my car.)

By Jennifer | Posted in Alaska Highway, beautiful places | Comments (13)

Will Work for Fuel

June 23, 2010 – 5:00 am

I knew that I would have to be flexible while on my drive up the Alaska Highway, but didn’t realize how flexible.

Places that you expect to be open, aren’t. And when you are running out of fuel, that gets stressful.

I spent a few hours this morning hanging out with a group of travelers, who, like me, weren’t going any farther until they got fuel.

Unfortunately, this popular stop was also unexpectedly closed, so we all just had to go Zen on this one.

(No cell service around here and the only payphone was also out of order.)

I did keep up hope that I would be counting the delay in hours, rather than days.

No One is Going Anywhere

After two hours of waiting, we were elated when a guy finally did show up and unlock the fuel pumps.

He let us know that the credit card machine wasn’t working, so only cash buyers could get fuel.

Luckily, I had cash, so got to buy diesel for $1.60 a liter, or $6.40 a gallon. (It typically runs closer to $1 a liter, or $4 per gallon.)

I’m buying portable fuel containers in Whitehorse.

By Jennifer | Posted in Alaska Highway, mishaps, mistakes, and misadventures | Comments (12)

Through the Rockies: Fort Nelson to Liard Hot Springs

June 22, 2010 – 5:00 am

It was during my drive from Fort Nelson to Liard Hot Springs that I first had the frightening sensation of being alone in a vast wilderness.

I’ve been in the forests of Upper Michigan, in natural places far from any city, but I’ve never had such a sense of being alone in a place that seemed so beautiful, but so remote.

At least in Upper Michigan, you know that hunters traverse the forests from time to time, but parts of this extended landscape are so far from civilization that it feels as if no person has ever trekked through them.

There is a vastness that feels like it could swallow me up without anyone noticing.

Much of the road was in pretty good condition, but when it would degrade to a gravelly mess, I’d have the irrational fear that I had gotten off on the wrong path and was driving deeper and deeper into the Yukon, where I would run out of fuel and never find my way out.

In those moments, I grew desperate for any sign of human life, even a scrap of garbage indicating that some other person had passed this way.

The rare vehicle that would come upon me was always driving faster than my motorhome, so would quickly pass and be out of sight.

Driving 40-45 mph, I happened upon two RVs traveling from 35-40 mph. A slightly disabled caravan, one was intermittently blowing blue-black exhaust, probably had an oil leak, and was driving with his two side steps still extended.

But, weary of feeling so alone on the road, I decided to slow down and stay with the hobbling duo. When they finally pulled into a service station, I continued on my own.

Overall, it was a beautiful, if sometimes precarious, drive. Through the Rockies, the scariest parts were 9% grades of pure gravel.

Going around a steep, blind, and gravel descent, I came upon a cluster of sheep along the roadway. For some reason, they like the steep, blind curves because it happened again about 50 miles down the road.

As the road started to straighten out and I knew I was getting closer to Liard Hot Springs, the scenic sights began to soothe me.

It only got prettier and prettier. Blue skies were a backdrop for ever changing mountain ranges, rushing rivers, and then perfectly still lakes.

A caravan of bison crossing the road made me laugh out loud at the novelty and beauty of experiencing a moment like this alone in the wildnerness.

***

I’ve only driven (a very slow) 190 miles, but am completely exhausted when I finally arrive at Liard Hot Springs.

I’ve pulled into the empty RV park late, so am grateful to see that one other motorhome is already camped here. (I hate sleeping in campgrounds all by myself!)

Opting for a site right in the corner, I am elated to have a spot bordered by flowers and forest.

Butterflies are flying around the purple and yellow flowers, dandelions are blowing in the air, and with the extended daylight, I decide to spend the evening outside.

I am pulling out my chair when I see a junky old RV drive into the campground. Watching the jalopy out of the corner of my eye, I see he has passed all of the RV sites and is making a bee line for me.

Please don’t be coming over here.

He parks right behind my motorhome. I reluctantly glance up to meet the enthusiastic stare of the scraggly guy yelling at me, “Hey! Come on! Let’s go get in the hot tub!”

Ugh. This is not happening.

Trying to figure out an unoffensive way to reject his pleas for evening companionship, I reply, “Uh, I’m really tired. That was a really stressful drive.”

“It wasn’t that bad! Well then a hot tub is just what you need! Come on!” He gestures for me to climb into his motorhome for the ride over.

At a loss for a more effective rejection method, I try my same refusal, “I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m really tired.”

Disappointed, he finally relents. I am relieved, but unnerved that I’ve not seen the last of him.

My campsite here at Liard Hot Springs is actually one of the prettiest I’ve had, so if I can remain unmolested by friendly neighbors, will plan to stay here to read and rest for a couple of days.

Next stop will be Watson Lake (about 135 miles), then onto Whitehorse (270 miles, but there isn’t any place to stop before then).

With a population of 25,000, Whitehorse is the biggest city in the Yukon and will be a good place to rest and restock before heading up toward the Dempster Highway…

***

Here are few more shots from today’s drive. The lack of any other cars does make for pretty pictures!

By Jennifer | Posted in Alaska Highway, I did it!, beautiful places | Comments (12)

Women on the Road

June 21, 2010 – 5:00 am

I’ve been secretly watching her outside my window for a few minutes. She is taking photos of her RV and of the campsite.

With short spiky grey hair, and brightly colored designer eyeglasses, she looks more like a woman you’d find wandering around an urban art gallery than in a gravelly RV park.

I haven’t seen any indication that anyone is with her.

As she gets closer to my window, I make the move to open it, but am slowed by the four latch locks.

She reenters her mini motorhome.

Damn, I missed her!

I unlatch all the locks, hoping she’ll come back outside. I sit patiently at my dinette until, finally, she does!

Quickly throwing my window open, “Are you traveling alone?”

Startled by the flying window and my loud query on her solitary travel status, she hesitates a moment.

“Yes, I am.”

“So am I!”

We talked non-stop for hours. Married, traveling without her husband, and on her way to Alaska, we had a lot of shared experience to talk about.

What a joy to be in an environment where I can say, “I’m married, but decided last year that I want to drive the Alaska Highway by myself” only to have the response, “Really? Me too!”

Things are going well so far!

(P.S. She was part of a caravan that wasn’t leaving for ten days, so we couldn’t make the trek together.)

By Jennifer | Posted in Alaska Highway, Uncategorized | Comments (13)

Mile Zero!

June 20, 2010 – 5:00 am

I made it to Mile Zero of the Alaska Highway! I had no idea that I would feel this excited when I got here, but getting to this point already feels like a huge accomplishment.

I can hardly believe that I have arrived at the starting line and am starting on this journey.

I will spend a few days resting, touring and getting restocked, then head on to my first stop on the Alaska Highway, Fort Nelson (270 miles from here).

Look where I am!

By Jennifer | Posted in Alaska Highway, I did it! | Comments (7)

Meltdown

June 19, 2010 – 3:53 pm

I’m breaking my promise not to publish another “All by Myself” meltdown. But, sticking to the themes of It’s my blog and I’ll cry if I want to, as well as my desire to create a faithful record of the journey I am actually taking (and not a fictionalized one that makes me sound stronger and more fearless), I’ve decided to include this update.

Even though I had read the road warnings before, after a long drive I started really freaking out while reading about all the precarious road conditions through the Rockies and, of course, on the Dempster.

Instead of trying to rewrite a more detailed account of what happened, I figured I’d just post the short excerpt from my personal journal entry. (If profanity offends you, you should skip it.)

***

Lake Louise Campground

10:40 pm

Sometimes, like right now, I wonder what the f*ck I am doing out here. In a strange campground 2000 miles from home. Missing David. And driving in the wrong f*cking direction. 2500 miles to go.

I don’t even f*cking know where I am. I think I am in Alberta, but I might be in British Columbia.

I am so f*cking lonely! I miss David! Okay! I got the memo! I need people!

I want to do this. But why? To prove that I can? Do what? Something scary? Maybe that is part of it? To prove that I am tough and fearless? But, no, I am crying and fearful. I am not tough and fearless. I am acting like I am. I am trying to make people think that I am.

I am scared and I am lonely. Who drives to the Arctic alone!? Why would someone do that? To prove what?!

***

Not getting any comfort out of my journaling exercise, I flip to the back of the book, A Journey of One’s Own: Uncommon Advice for the Independent Woman Traveler.

Hoping to find an index entry on loneliness, the book instead opens up to a closing note by the author, Thalia Zepatos:

It felt fated that I’d opened to that page. I felt like the author was talking directly to me. Being told (once again) that feeling afraid is a part of my journey and not an indication that I am not suited for it is an important reminder.

I’ve been trying very hard to avoid the worn out cliché of “Feel the fear, but do it anyway”, but I think what I am trying to learn goes something like that…

***

p.s. The trip through the Icefields Parkway reminded me exactly why I am doing this!

By Jennifer | Posted in afraid, loneliness, mental health, reflections (mine) | Comments (14)

Icefields Parkway

June 19, 2010 – 2:57 pm

I have Internet! I’ve missed you guys.

Here are some pictures of the Icefields, um, Parkway? I don’t have time to look up the name. Anyway, it is the drive from Banff to Jasper and is the most jaw-dropping, spectacular scenery of my trip so far.

My camera cannot capture the majesty of this place. There are no words to describe it.

You just have to go there!