Spell of the Wild

5 - 10 August - Chuck

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 Tiphany 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