Post Trip Activities
4 August 2003: The canoe trip is now behind us, but there is no time for kicking back and reflecting, not just yet anyway. Today we hope to air-ship our canoes and gear to Anchorage, then arrange to get ourselves on a passenger flight. We paddled across the channel to Emo (Emmonak) and started the two-mile walk around to the airfield; soon we were offered a ride on a four-wheeler. The air cargo hangar of Arctic Transport Services (ATS) was open but no one was to be found. We walked to the little Passenger Terminal and arranged two seats on the 5pm flight to Anchorage; about $330 each for a two hour flight in a nine passenger King Air twin turbo-prop by Beachcraft. Bill introduced me to Michael Prince, one of the pilots. He was an Eskimo and truly a prince. He explained many details of Eskimo life and told us about the differences in heritage and language of the various native cultures. Bill continued the discussion while I located the ATS representative; he told me that the rate for airfreight to Anchorage is only 21 cents per pound, great news. Previously, we had been told the rate might be 60 cents per pound and maybe higher. Bill and I were both ecstatic, we reevaluate our plans on what will be shipped and what will be left behind.
After a quick dash back to our campsite, we launched into a flurry of activity. While sorting and cleaning gear, we both identified many items that we carried nearly 7,000 miles (about 5,000 from Florida to Whitehorse and 2,000 on the Yukon) and never used; we had forgotten that some items were along. Each of us established a pile of treasured gear that would return to Florida, a pile of gear and food that we would give away in Emo, items to take with us on the passenger flight, and a pile of items to be tossed. Additionally, I set aside clothes, cameras and such that I will use the next couple of months while on the Inside Passage to Seattle and while visiting our daughter, Susan, and her family in Korea. Most of the items to be tossed were not really trash, but items that had been opened and partially used such as a half-empty jar of peanut butter, bottles of olive oil, vinegar, etc.
We also tried to insure that all gear was as clean as possible and totally dry. It was another cool, overcast day, but the light breeze did help dry our tents and bags. Bill swept through his gear in record time, loaded it all in his canoe and paddled over to Emo in hopes of saying good-bye to Dave. Since my gear will be sealed in dry bags for several weeks, I tried to get everything as dry as the weather would allow in order to keep mildew from taking possession of it. Time moves on, I couldn’t wait any longer, tents sleeping bags, clothes, etc. get stuffed into bags and I paddled over to join Bill.
A dozen or so young kids were buzzing around Bill and his gear. He was talking with young Michael Prince, the son of the gentleman we had met this morning at the passenger terminal. Michael is about 13 years old and very well behaved. He tells us a lot about the local area and also much about Eskimo culture. I placed my bags and canoe nearby, made an attempt to clean the canoe and tied the paddles securely under the thwarts. After calling to remind the ATS folks that we were waiting for pick-up, a really beat up 5 ton, flatbed truck arrives. We get the two canoes and all the gear on the bed of the truck then crawl on with it to try to keep stuff from bouncing off. There are no railings on the flatbed and no springs on the truck. The engine only runs in surges down the bumpy gravel road to the airfield. This is clearly the most precarious part of this long trip, trying to hold on ourselves and keep all our gear from bouncing off is more than we can keep up with. At one point we pound on the cab to get the driver to stop so we can push canoes and gear back into the center. When Bill climbed off the bed the passenger door swung wide open with him hanging on to it. There was no door latch and the rope tying the door shut had come loose. We made a stop at the Post Office so Bill could pick up some mail that had been waiting for him. I had tried to get his mail earlier when I got mine but the Post Mistress, rightfully, would not allow me to do that. She would not even tell me who had sent it or if it was packages or letters. Bill returned with a box of cookies that Betty had sent. More bouncing, grabbing for sliding gear and pinched fingers as we held the canoes on board. At the Airfield the driver backed the truck up to a closed overhead door. In spite of our yelling at him, he backed too far and my overhanging canoe was crunched between the door and the back of the truck cab. The bow of the canoe put a small dent in the metal door but a very quick check reveals no apparent damage to the canoe. The ATS agent weighed my canoe then piled the bags of gear on the scales; altogether the total was 196 pounds. Bill’s gear weighed in a little heavier plus he had to pay extra to ship propane fuel canisters that were classed as “hazardous cargo”. We were both happy with the air cargo arrangements. Our gear could be in Anchorage the next day, but we asked them to delay the shipment a couple of days to give Bill time to retrieve his pickup truck from Whitehorse.
Our flight to Anchorage was smooth and the aerial views of this great land were beautiful. We saw the big Yukon River winding its way to the sea. Hundreds of streams fed into larger streams and twisting rivers that flowed into the Yukon. Vast roadless areas of tundra and mountain wilderness extended in all directions as far as we could see. Many of the mountains had patches of snow and snowcaps. Then as we approached the Alaska Mountain Range, snow covered all the mountains in the center of the range. And the “Great One”, Denali (Mount McKinley), towered above them all. The highest mountain in North America at 20,320 feet, it looked majestic, raw, cold and beautiful.
Too soon we landed in Anchorage; the airport was alive with people and all the trappings of civilization. A blaring PA system, motorized vehicles buzzing in all directions, men in suits and women in frills and smelling of perfume, TV screens monitoring flights, people every place, the air filled with the sounds and smells of humanity; it was too much for the senses to process. I had a strange urge to leave a note for Betty and tell her to meet me in Emo or Ruby or even better at the little campsite by Claire Creek. All at once it struck me as hard as a low limb across the forehead, we are no longer in the midst of silent beauty and pristine remote wilderness with Nature’s wonders surrounding us. It was depressing, a sad feeling of loss and emptiness.
I rented a car and we found a little B& B to spend the night. After a large dinner of Chinese food and a beer, we returned to our rooms. Bill now revealed that his feet had been giving him increasing problems. For weeks he had a rash that now had developed into open sores and swollen toes, feet and ankles. He had been waiting to obtain some “over the counter” medications and still discounted my suggestions that he see a doctor. Tomorrow we had only two items on the agenda: get meds for Bill and meet Betty’s flight at 8:45am.
POST TRIP ACTIVITIES: 5 – 10 August 2003
Bill drove around the airport a few times while I went inside to meet Betty. The hours that followed were crazy with excitement as Bill and I tried to give Betty a complete description of the entire trip while driving through Anchorage. When we finally found a large drug store, the pharmacist recommended that Bill soak his feet in Epsom salt, then coat with Lamosil and see a doctor if they don’t improve quickly. He has been wearing a sock and sandal on one foot because it is too swollen to fit into a shoe.
Betty had made reservations for us at the guesthouse on Fort Richardson about 10 miles north of Anchorage. We checked in and immediately started preparing for the next step in the return phase of our trip. Bill arranged to take a shuttle van back to Whitehorse to get his truck; he will depart the following day at 6am. It is a long trip, about 700 miles through some spectacular mountains and much of it is on gravel roads. We washed clothes, repacked and purchased a few items needed to “recivilize” us, for me it included: a haircut, beer, snacks and some clothes to replace those that had been repeatedly washed in Yukon silt-water. For lunch Bill treated us to a great outside patio meal at the Fancy Moose, a part of the Millennium Hotel. We made room on the table to look at hundreds of trip pictures that we had never seen. Both Bill and I had sent our exposed film to Seattle Film Works for developing, they posted them on the Internet and sent prints to Betty. She brought all the prints she had received and again, we excitedly relived this special experience as we explained each picture to Betty.
Back at our rooms, we spent the afternoon making phone calls, answering e-mail and completing journal entries. Betty had obtained another PocketMail for Bill and brought it to Alaska with her; Bill worked diligently to catch up on six weeks of messages and communications since his last PocketMail got dunked near Fort Yukon as we entered the Yukon Flats. We worked into the evening and had a couple of pizzas in the room. After a glass of wine, Betty went to bed as Bill and I continued to celebrate our safe return from a magnificent trip. Pleasant memories of nearly every person we had met were discussed. We toasted all those that had helped us…one at a time. The great times, the great places, the great scenery, all was revisited. The celebration lasted into the wee hours of the morning, fortunately we had only a limited amount of wine.
Somehow we managed to oversleep, it was after 5am and the shuttle-van to Whitehorse departed at 6am from downtown Anchorage, 10 miles away. Bill had packed the day before; we dressed, flew downstairs, into the car and through Fort Richardson. Oops, we don’t know how to get off the military reservation. Betty had driven or guided us through post previously and now we only aimed in the general direction as precious minutes ticked by, neither of us like to ask directions but we saw a jogger and relented. The guy told us we were currently headed out to some remote firing ranges; we quickly turned around and found the gate to exit post. Great, we hit all the traffic lights just right and arrived over 15 minutes early. As Bill got out he searched for his new PocketMail and realized that it had been left on the sofa in his room and must have slipped between cushions because he remembered looking for stray items as he departed the room. He was really disappointed because he wanted to use it on the long ride to Whitehorse and he would use it to contact us on his return to Anchorage. New plan, Bill took his bags and I dashed back to Fort Richardson to look for his PocketMail and hoped to return with it before the shuttle van departed. I found the little electronic critter under the sofa cushions and watched the minutes click off the clock on the dashboard as I returned to Anchorage. It was one minute after six as I met Bill at the curb; he had asked the driver to wait a couple of minutes. Later, I would find that Bill had made friends with all the drivers on the trip and one helped him find lodging in Whitehorse.
Bill expected to be gone three or four days. During that time, I would try to locate a small trailer that Bill could tow behind his Toyota truck and haul our gear and two canoes to Florida. All the commercial rental companies rented only covered trailers and they charged nearly as much as renting a car. The search was extended to include buying a used trailer. After several phone calls, I located a guy that converts the rear chassis of small trucks into trailers. Sid on Rabbit Creek Road had a Toyota conversion that should work if a few alterations were made. Conveniently, Sid has a large shop with both acetylene and arc welders. We struck a deal, but much of the work could not be completed until they measured Bill’s truck. Meanwhile, Betty and I visited many of the Anchorage sites, attempted to sample most of their restaurants and read about some of the local history. A message from Bill told us he had reached Whitehorse in Yukon Territory, retrieved his truck, visited with Scott & Joanne at Kanoe People and was ready to start driving back to Anchorage. He also said his feet were worse and both feet are now swollen too badly to wear shoes. He asked if Betty could check his medical insurance to see how he could see a doctor in Anchorage. After some checking, she told him to go immediately the nearest emergency room. And if he is near Anchorage, go to the emergency room at Providence Hospital.
On schedule, we received a PocketMail message saying that Bill was now in Anchorage at the hospital. He had seen a doctor, received a prescription for antibiotics and would be released in about an hour. We met him at the hospital and Bill and I went to see the trailer while Betty went back to Fort Rich. Sid got the necessary measurements from Bill’s truck and told us what connectors we would need to hook to the trailer. That night we over-ate at yet another great seafood restaurant. Bill insisted on finding a secluded place to sleep in the back of his truck.
The following morning, Saturday, 9 August, Bill’s feet appeared to be on the mend. We picked up the trailer, went to the airport, collected our gear and canoes and loaded them on the trailer. My canoe had suffered some while being air freighted to Anchorage. It had a small puncture just below the gunwale and a couple of gouges that I had not spotted earlier. Bill planned to do some laundry at our guesthouse, spend the night and start the long drive to Florida the next morning. Later, he decided to knock out a couple hundred miles before he stopped for the night. We took some pictures and my canoe partner and travel mate for the past couple of months started his last adventure on this megatrip.
On Sunday, 10 August, we had a beautiful drive to Seward to meet our cruise ship. Previously, we had tried to contact some friends who live near Anchor Point which is only a hundred miles or so from the road to Seward. We were stationed with Palmer & Bonnie Bailey while in Germany nearly thirty years ago. A few years ago, they retired from the Army, drove to Alaska and built their own house. They lead busy lives and often visit the “lower 48” during the summer. Unfortunately we did not connect, maybe next time. At Seward, I dropped Betty at the ship, bought a little beer and wine to ease the rigors of the voyage and dropped the rental car at the designated hotel.
For the most part I have completed my portion of the canoe trip and associated travel. Betty and I are now off on an unrelated excursion, but will continue to post a summary of our travels down the Inland Passage, then to Korea and subsequently back home to Florida. If interested, stay tuned; we are gathering information in hopes of continuing from Korea to Bejing then on the Trans-Siberian Rail Road to Moscow, on by rail to visit our niece Tiphanie Miller in Germany and then catch a “Space Available” hop to the USA.
There is a land where the mountains are nameless and the rivers all lead, God knows where,
There are lives that are erring and aimless and deaths that just hang by a hair,
There are hardships that nobody reckons and valleys unpeopled and still,
There is a land and it beckons and beckons, I want to go back, and I will.
From Spirit of the Yukon by Robert W. Service