The Misadventures of Kate & Josh

We stopped in Talkeetna, AK to grab a bite at the Denali Brewing Company’s restaurant. Most of our fellow Alcaners headed straight into Anchorage, but Josh, Trevor, Matt and I were not eager to end our trip quite yet. Plus, Trevor makes his own beer and sampling the local faire is a necessity for his craft. Somehow, Alaska has the best homemade pretzels in the world. Trust me, I’ve been to Munich multiple times. And the fish ‘n chips ain’t bad either.

Josh and I visited the Antler Outpost across the street where he purchased a cross section of a whale rib and I bought some antler bone earrings. The woman behind the counter attempted to sell us an oosik, which is a walrus’ phallus. We politely declined.

We headed out to Anchorage and pulled in with just enough time to change clothes and call a Lyft. The Alcan5000 finale dinner was held at the Anchorage Aviation Museum.

We were given a tour and learned an unknown fact that Japan actually occupied an island up here called Attu in 1942 after Pearl Harbor and the US had to relocate natives down south.

Eventually the awards ceremony began and Josh and I received a “Finisher” award, 2nd in our class (2E – equipped, because we have a rally computer) and the “Arctic Award” for completing all of the “extreme” controls. We were given 3 plaques. The last one is that which I’m most proud of. If it were up to me, I would give another award to Josh for driving the furthest before and after the rally; he still has eight days to go.

This morning we got up and walked downtown to the start of the Ididarod, the start of the dog sled race from Anchorage to Nome. Mushers and a team of 14 dogs cover the distance of 938 miles in 8-15 days. The official event started in 1973 but it has historical roots when miners arrived to dig coal and gold in the 1880s-1920s.

The most famous race was that during a diphtheria outbreak in 1925, when Nome’s antitoxin had expired and the nearest supply was in Anchorage. The only way to deliver it was by sled dog, as planes weren’t used yet and ships were too slow. If you know the story of Balto, he was the lead dog that arrived in Nome, after 20 mushers and over 100 dogs had relayed the serum along the journey. The dog that ran the longest portion was called Togo, and there is apparently a show on Disney+ on him now.

We saw the ceremonial start of the race in downtown Anchorage on 4th and D St. The real one starts tomorrow in Willow, AK, which is about 45 miles out. I read that the mushers and dogs head out about an hour down the road, then load up on trucks and rest for the real start tomorrow. On the way in, at a gas station, I saw a truck with odd sleighs perched on top and realized they were dog sleds. The dogs are kept in separate kennels on trucks and trailers and walking around downtown, we hear excited barks and howls echoing throughout the streets.

The Ididarod start is preceded by an Inuit-led song and dance, along with the Star Spangled Banner and Alaska’s state song, the singer cloaked in furs while snowflakes fell softly. As each team lines up, they count down from 10 and the dogs, dancing in place and eager to go, jet down the strip.

The festival held over the weeks surrounding the Ididarod, is called the Fur Rondy, from Fur Rendezvous, a festival derived from traditional fur-trading customs held. As a former vegan (I was vegan for seven solid years), I have a unique perspective. I might have a furry hood and fur-cuffed boots, but it’s fake and I will never buy real fur. There are “furriers” everywhere in downtown Anchorage. I have to step out of a critical perspective and acknowledge my setting for what it is: a land of survival. Without making the most use of every part of a hunt, natives wouldn’t have survived. I am indubitably privileged.

Josh and I started this journey with high hopes: for great memories and a deeper bond. We have earned those, along with new friendships and a calling…this beautiful earth is deserves more of our attention. Josh reiterated something I told him at the beginning of our trip, “We have the privilege of putting ourselves in calculated risk.”

Let us not forget, that to be able to travel is a privilege and the ability to learn from others is a gift.

I apologize for the title. I couldn’t help it…

Day 10, 10:08AM Alaska Time (1 hour later than PST) – We completed our last TSD this morning in Fairfax, Alaska. The last two nights were absolute luxury for this trip. We stayed two nights at the Pike’s Waterfront Lodge, a resort with a massive lobby that resembles Cabela’s (a hunting and fishing superstore) in Georgia—there are large stuffed animals mounted to every free wall. But while Cabela’s has plenty of deer, Pike’s has a musk ox and a polar bear.

Two nights ago, Wednesday, we finished our second TSD at Tok Junction at 5:30PM with 250 miles left to drive that evening. Josh and I got about 18 miles down the road when we heard #21 on the radio asking Sweep to come help car #30, a Toyota Land Cruiser with two guys from CO and WA. The front CV boots had blown off, likely somewhere on Dempster. Josh’s immediate response was to turn the car around and head back to Tok Junction, to help out. I asked him how long this would take to fix and Josh said, “Oh, about an hour and a half.” I sighed, calculating our projected late arrival time, but this is one of the reasons I’m with this guy. He does the right thing and I’m proud of him.

Timeout: Car #37, a red Porsche, just passed us with its navigator sticking his head out with a clown (Pennywise) mask on. “That was awesome and terrifying,” someone else said on the radio. I wish we could keep traveling with these cut ups.

When we got there, Matt and Trevor slid out from underneath the Land Cruiser, and actually had their jackets on. (Being from Manitoba, they are frequently outside in the -20 degree air in sweatshirts and beanies. If they are wearing their parkas, it’s really cold out.) Josh brought out his toolbox and produced vice grip plyers, which the boys used to finagle bands around the CV boots—a temporary fix. It was done in less than 20 minutes and we all headed out together, arriving in town by 10PM. The Land Cruiser made it to Fairfax, but both bands popped off somewhere on the way.

Yesterday was the first day we have been able to sleep in and we slept ‘til a blissful 7:30AM. Our bodies are just too used to getting up by 6 to sleep much later. We had the option of going back up past the Arctic Circle (a 517-mile trip) or to the Chena hot springs (a 131-mile trip). Josh had driven 750 miles on Tuesday, from Inuvik to Whitehorse, and 610 miles Wednesday, Whitehorse to Fairfax. We opted for the hot springs. I don’t know yet if a single car went back to the Arctic Circle. This was the first and only rest day of our trip.

Josh and I saw another female moose on the way up the hill to the springs and in pulling into the parking lot, one of our friends (Shane from black Jeeper #35) came running through the parking lot in wet swim trunks and flip flops to grab his waterproof Go-Pro. Mind you, it’s -37 degrees Fahrenheit out! When I saw him inside, he told me that the plastic flip flops had frozen to his feet and he had to wait for them to thaw so he could take them off, which was very painful.

Entering the hot springs, is like instant relief and healing. For so many days, we have been in and out of shocking cold and dry indoor heat and sitting for hours and hours on end.  I don’t think we realized how exhausted we were until we sunk into the warm waters, nature’s version of a loving hug. The steam from the main pool was so thick, you can barely see five feet in front of you and I lost Josh more than once.

I couldn’t bring my phone into the hot springs, but Shane and several others snapped some of (what I’m hoping are) the funniest shots of our trip. There was a sprinkler spraying cool water overhead and when it hit my hair, the drops would instantly turn into snowflakes. Our hair, eyebrows and eyelashes soon had frosted tips. We are like those snow monkeys in Japan and probably just as content, if not more so.

Afterwards, we had lunch at the resort’s restaurant with Matt and Trevor and I recognized our waitress’s NY accent. She was from the Bronx and had relocated to Key West after a tough divorce. She came to Fairfax, AK soon after because, “Key West wasn’t far away enough rom he ex in New York.” I would have loved to hear more detail about that story.

We visited an ice museum next door, which was opened in and has some of the same sculptures from 2005. The room is warmer than outside. There is a castle with two knights on horseback jousting. An igloo with a xylophone you can play inside. There are gargoyles and animals carved in ice, and a mask that won the National Ice Sculpture Awards years ago, though we were told its headdress has since deteriorated. There’s an alter where the two ice sculptors who created the entire museum, married each other years ago. My favorite pieces had sunflowers and roses suspended inside, reminiscent of the rose in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. The ice tour concludes with the guide pouring drinking into ice martini glasses at a bar carved of…you guessed it…ice. Each glass takes 7 seconds each to carve and you get to take them home. Makes sense they would give them away, as an ice glass would be difficult to run through a dishwasher.

You can rent out an ice hotel room in the back of the museum for $600 a night. The guide told us that it comes with a second room at the regular Chena Hot Springs Resort because there is no running water in the museum and guests usually get a little bored around 1am and want to go sleep in a real bed.

Josh and I went back to the room, where I did a load of bathtub laundry, hoping to send Josh off with enough clean clothes to last him 8 or 9 more days until he’s home. We had a quiet dinner and turned in early. This was the day we needed to end strong and enjoy our last travel day to Anchorage. Meanwhile, our buddies Matt and Trevor, both tracked down a tattoo parlor to have the Alcan5000 2020 emblem permanently impeded on each of their calves. Since they spent most of it with us, I take a small piece of that as a compliment.

This morning we barely made it to the TSD. The directions in our rally book were off, but thankfully Google Maps works in Fairfax so we were able to get to the start and set up the rally computer in time. My heart was already beating hard when we took off, but I think we finished our last TSD communicating well and, by my calculations, only 4 seconds early.

We are driving through crisp white mountains on Highway 3 towards Anchorage, with only 180 miles to go. This is the second time in my life that I wish we had farther to drive. The first time was when Josh and I drove my car across the country and we entered the state of Georgia. As happy as I was to get to my new home with him, I wanted more time on the road together. I feel similarly now. That has to be a strong testament.

Josh titled this entry, though he hasn’t read it yet. It’s a Donner Party reference.

12:39PM local Mountain time Day #7 – We made it to Tuktoyaktuk, the farthest road we are to travel this trip. The dirt road from Inuvik to Tuk was built in 2018 and takes you through land conserved for Inuit natives. Before the road, it was only accessible by air and water. We are driving through a white desert. The sunrise is not of the Earth I knew two days ago; this planet is more beautiful than I imagined.

Tuk has a general store and there is a sign labelling a small building “lodge,” but it’s not open this time of year. The buildings and homes look simple and functional. A main road out took us directly to the Arctic Ocean. Josh spent 10 minutes chipping away a piece of frozen rock in -43 degrees F, so we could take home a piece. We both walked out onto the frozen ocean. Our fellow Alcaners visited the general store, which only one had stickers and maybe half a dozen t-shirts for souvenirs. The locals haven’t capitalized the tourist destination for what it is yet: to us, we’ve reached the edge of the Earth. 

This is the first time I’ve heard Inuit language spoken in real life and it’s unlike anything I’ve heard spoken before, including several American Native dialects. I want to say it’s Hawai’ian-like because syllables are so distinct, but it has a sharper edge to it. I am reminded of my white Anglo-Saxon perspective and how little I know. Though I’ve been reading my book The Eskimo Way of Life, written by a Danish fur-trader that lived with them for over half a century starting in 1908, the more I learn about old Inuit traditions, the more questions I have. I haven’t had any significant interaction with any locals to really absorb a glimpse into modern Inuit life, either. What I have learned is that this is a people who has survived in the harshest conditions known to man, the longest. They likely have something to teach the rest of us.

When we arrived back in Inuvik, we’d planned to grab a hot lunch and head back down Dempster Highway to Eagle Plains for the night. Half of our group was scheduled to stay farther south in Eagle Plains and the other half was booked in Inuvik for the night, with an 18-hour travel day down to Whitehorse the next day. Josh and I wanted to avoid the long day but sometimes weather has a different plan.

The snow drifts we had traversed the day before had come in and completely covered the highway. The roads were closed at a crossing over a river (there’s no bridge, you drive right over the ice), by Fort McPherson. I asked the front desk to put us on a waiting list for a room. There was a group supposed to come into Inuvik stuck south of McPherson, so we figured they’d take our rooms in Eagle Plains and we’d take their rooms in Inuvik.

We ate lunch of grilled cheese and chicken noodle soup with #21, Matt and Trevor, our Canadian friends in the other Xterra. Matt wore his Canadian flag speedo for a photo at the Arctic Circle sign–truly a masterpiece of a lifetime.

Deciding to make the most of being stuck in Inuvik, we headed out to Aklavik on the ice road. We’d driven out on the Yukon River for Josh to compete in the ice race and across two other river crossings that served as bridges, but this was something else. There is a highway on the river here. A grater had come through and roughed up the ice on this huge multi-lane ice highway, which reaches 72 miles from Inuvik to Aklavik. The Canadians tore out ahead and we went speeding behind. I was thinking, This cannot be real life! It felt like the ice road level in a video game. Yellow signs on the ice road caution a slight curve ahead and orange signs warn you to slow the heck down—and they mean it. We reached 100mph, very briefly, only to receive a text message that the snowplows down at McPherson were a few miles away from clearing the roads. We were advised to take our chances, so we spun around the ice to head south.

Off we drove with Matt and Trevor. It’s unsafe to travel this road a lone vehicle. With no emergency or cell service and short-range radios, if something happens, we need another car to go for help. We killed the two-hour drive by chatting on the radios with #21, talking about our favorite 90s movies. I said, Reality Bites and Empire Records. Trevor is 33 with three kids and Matt is a single 27-year old. I learned that Matt and Trevor are highly skilled mechanics who fix a variety of machines and vehicles involved in mining. Who better to travel with than three men who know car engines inside out? Ten minutes out of Fort McPherson, we received word that the roads were still closed and weren’t going to open for the night.

There is one inn in McPherson, if you can call it that. The décor was prison-like and alarming. They were double-booked with the Alcan old timers sleeping four to a room. Our clan was gathered in an overheated room seated at folding tables, drinking Kirkland brand red wine and sharing photos. Others from our group had been taken in by a church down the road which supposedly had some beds. We headed over to check it out and Josh was determined to make it work.

The church “beds” were mattresses on the floor of one large multi-purpose room—all mattresses spoken for at that point–and there was not another woman in sight. Now, we are with some of the coolest guys in the world, but I don’t think many women in my position would feel comfortable sleeping on the floor in negative 30-degree weather, even with Josh by her side. I put my snow boot down and told Josh I wasn’t sleeping here. That meant he’d have to drive two hours back to Inuvik and we’d have the 18-hour day ahead of us (today). When Trevor and Matt came to the same conclusion, Josh agreed it was the right thing to do. I called ahead to the hotel before we lost reception to make sure they held the rooms.

The way back, Josh taught the Canadians about the Donner Party on the radio. They suggested that if we wind up in a similar predicament, we eat Josh first because he is the largest of us. Josh told them that would be the right thing to do. He had Matt and Trevor crying with laughter at that point, and a new friendship was sealed. They are planning to head back with Josh and Konrad, riding in tandem, after dropping me at the airport in Anchorage.

Last night, I got the most sleep I’ve had in a week: eight delicious hours that only wanted more. The McKensie Hotel in Inuvik has the most comfortable mattresses of our trip. I am a human animal that needs 8-9 hours a night, while Josh is in a good mood after six. I admit, the last two mornings, when the alarm went off, my first thought was not very sweet or ladylike. Josh knows that a shower and coffee go a long way to snap me out of it. The driving days are very long and we are smack in the middle of the longest, Day 7, but there is no one I’d rather sit next to for days on end.

Today, we headed out at 7AM rally time (the entire rally is scheduled on PST, though we switch in and out of PST/Mountain zones). The Xterras are leading the pack with #21 ahead of us. Behind us, currently are #29, two more Canadian guys in a VW Passat (they have a camera drone and that’s fun), followed by the Jeepers in #27 and #35. Behind them, are cars #33, a Montero with boyfriend and girlfriend from Washington around our age, and #13, a Porsche Cayenne with a married couple that does the Alcan5000 regularly. The Passat keeps overheating and the Montero is leaking oil—having to pour a quart in, every 100 miles. “Well, at least you won’t need an oil change!” someone joked.

We have one of the strongest radio antennas with a range of about 25 miles, while other vehicles have a range of 1-2 miles. Oftentimes, others will get within our range and ask us to radio out a message to other cars or ask about conditions ahead. It’s reassuring be able to hear what’s said for ourselves and not have to rely on others to play telephone communicating for us.

Right now, Bob Dylan’s Shelter from the Storm is playing as we drive through the white desert. The mountains look like pyramids of salt poured out onto the flat land. We are trailing #21’s snow dust and Josh and I sit quietly. I suppose this is what they call peace and feel its impermanent beauty.

5:29PM PST on Day 5. We are at Rally mile 2519. In 60 miles, we switch to Mountain time again and the clock goes forward. We entered the Arctic Circle 150 miles ago. I would like to tell you I felt like Sansa, a princess traveling in her homeland of the North, but we are more like wildlings in 4-wheel drive, traversing the Northwest Territories. A whitewalker could certainly appear between the trees at any moment.

Time out: A linx just ran by the side of the road into the trees! Too fast for us to photograph.

We left the hotel in Dawson City at 7:30AM this morning in the dark. We have barely seen the sun today, it remained muffled behind an overcast sky, and has already set. From the Klondike Highway, we headed due north on Dempster Highway, into a land without emergency services available.

Immediately the winds picked up and snowdrifts began climbing across the road, so thick that Sweep 3 (one of our rescue trucks) got stuck in front of the rest of us and we all waited while one of the Jeepers (#27) pulled it out. Several cars had to turn around and go back to Dawson City for the night. Any minor car trouble would make the drive unsafe and most of the 2-wheel drives couldn’t make it over the snowdrifts.

We have been traveling with the two Jeep Wrangler Rubicons all day and hopefully will continue to do so this trip. They partnered up Day 1 and took us on as a third wheel. We are happy to tag along. The Jeepers are fun guys hanging out the window (in -30F windchill) with Go-Pros and great attitudes. And they seem to know how to approach terrain circumspectly. They think Josh’s combination of thick Southern charm and off-kilter sense of humor are a riot. I agree. The black one, #35, carries a father-son duo from Washington, Alan and Shane. The yellow one, #27, is owned by two buddies from New York, Johan from Columbia (who owns the vehicle) and Joe, who has a thick NY accent and a family. #27 hit a snowbank shortly after pulling out the sweep but luckily a snowplow was nearby and gave us a hand. Even the organizer/founder of the event went off the road and got stuck today.

Continued, Day #6, on the way to Tuk: Yesterday, headed up Dempster Highway, we lost many of our fellow Alcaners, who travelled back to Dawson City or back to Whitehorse, where we will meet up in two nights. The first part was too difficult for many vehicles and I am so impressed with the work Josh put into the Xterra. #32 is doing very well. Ice got into the electrical yesterday and the truck stuck in 4-wheel drive but e we needed the 4-wheel drive to get through the snowdrifts. We decided the car was telling us what it needed to do. We made it to Inuvik, which is the largest Canadian town in the Arctic Circle, with a population of 3,500. Its corrugated steel structures and blocky homes make it appear almost soviet–it has a communist feel to it.

Many of the hotel workers look like they may be of native decent, with darker skin tones and round faces. As true to Canadian stereotypes, locals are incredibly kind and endearing. This morning, I met #27, Matt and Trevor, in the restaurant when I was grabbing coffee and we chatted with the waiter. The waiter was a white 30-ish man from a larger city down south. He came to Inuvik with his sister, a traveling nurse/nutritionist who was stationed here for a year. She was sent to the tiny towns 1-2 hours north and islands (where the polar bears live!) to advise locals about their dietary habits. When she would tell them to eat more fruits and vegetables, they would laugh, as their diet consisted mainly of meat and canned goods for a reason: an apple costs $8. They have no access to fresh produce. She moved on to another position and her brother, the waiter stayed on, telling us he liked living in a small town. The truth is, he has no car and no financial ability to leave. We asked him about Tuk, today’s destination, and he said he had never been. He is confined to Inuvik.

Note: I checked and it costs about $7500 US to have a guide take you out to see polar bears. Clearly, we have no polar bear encounters happening anytime soon.

We are on the dirt highway, on our way to Tuk, with black Jeep #35 ahead and yellow Jeep #27 behind. The road is bumpy and I keep typing extra letters as I write and my fingers slip. It’s locally 10AM and we have been driving since 8:30AM. But we are on “rally time” which is PST, so for us it’s actually 9AM. We just watched the most beautiful sunrise I have ever seen over the white tundra. Soft grays, blues, oranges and pink. I am firmly convinced I need to learn to paint. It is -40 degrees out. We think it might be colder but our friend’s thermometer doesn’t go that low. I am simply grateful and at peace, welcoming this adventure.

Dawson City was the wild west of the Yukon back in the days of the gold rush that started in 1868. They used to operate by “minor’s law,” which meant you watch out for your fellow man. If someone needed supplies and another had them to lend, they would be provided. Survival is so tough that people needed each other to make it through. However, if a man veered from this practice–say, he held another at gunpoint and stole his gold mined for the day–minor’s law would entail the rest of the men hanging him in a tree for others’ to witness. Justice carried out swiftly and used as a deterrent.

Today, Dawson’s City is as charming as a Dickens’ Christmas Village, complete with sparkly snow. We made it in time for the ice racing on the Yukon River and Josh was able to complete the course twice. The ice started cracking halfway through. That sounds alarming but no one seemed to fuss about it, so our vehicles kept headed out on the track, until it was dark.

The hotel we stayed at is called the Downtown Hotel and has a restaurant named after Jack London, who lived up here for a year. His stay inspired White Fang and Call of the Wild, the latter which was remade into another film currently in theaters now. The bar at the hotel is famous for something called a “Sourtoe” shot. It’s a shot of whiskey, usually Yukon Jack, with a human toe in it. The original toe came from a rum runner in the 1920s. Currently, a waitress told us, there are two toes. One of the donors is still alive. If you swallow the toe, they charge you $2500 US. I asked the bartender to see it, but he only brings it out at certain times of the night when people order. We were exhausted, and quite frankly, I have seen plenty of dead toes in my life.

We met the boys driving the other Xterra last night, #21 Matt and Trevor, after dinner last night and Josh got to give his dopamine-neurotransmitter lecture to a captive audience. I, meanwhile I had a conversation with a new girlfriend, Jennifer, a naturally pretty blond from Washington who was married right out of college to a childhood friend and has three young boys ages 8, 5 and 3 all named after men in her and her husbands’ families, a Swiss tradition, she told me. She’s traveling with her father Marcus, in a Mercedes. Their first Alcan was the 2018 summer rally. This is their first time in the winter.

Jennifer is one of those people who looks you directly in the eye when she speaks. Her blue eyes glow with kindness and squint slightly to convey understanding. Neither of us drink, for different reasons, and while we spoke, we had to keep ducking and moved our seats around to avoid being impaled by the pool sticks being used behind us. We spoke about our past life challenges, our growth and the gifts that life imparts—compassion and strength. She is deeply insightful and I think we both appreciated that instant connection of spirits. We laughed at ourselves and smiled, and when it got late, rejoined the boys’ conversation. Matt certainly had his fill of neuroscience thanks to Josh.

Josh and I headed out into the -20 degree cold, stomping down the street in our snow boots. Dawson City has dirt street that are coated thickly in snow. There was a restaurant called “Klondike Kate’s” that was closed for the winter, many businesses only operate during the summer up here. Mostly it’s charming hotels and a small casino called Diamond Tooth Gerties. With the correct gear, it does not feel cold anywhere but our noses and I think we would have walked for hours around town, if we didn’t have to wake up so early.

I want to come back here someday and stay a weekend. If I was 22, I could see myself staying the summer in Dawson City and waiting tables, spending my spare time riding snow mobiles and ice skating on the river. I did note that there is a tiny airport and we saw an AirNorth plane disembark. You never do know…

It’s Day 4 at 1:08PM PST in the Yukon. This morning while I was lugging bags to the truck, one of the locals held the door open and said, “Welcome to the cold!” We completed a TSD this morning that I’m not feeling super confident about—I think the course was actually about half a mile shorter than the numbers they gave us.

So far, we are ranked 19^th overall. We are elated to be that far ahead, neither of us having competed in a TSD before, or even knowing exactly what they entail. We are on our way to Dawson’s City up the Klondike Highway, an old goldrush town. We have to make it there before sundown to line up for an ice race. (Shhhh, we’re not racing, this is a rally! Racing isn’t legal…) It’s a timed event around the city, where Josh has to wear a helmet and get his best speed. This is a portion of the rally required to complete all stages and receive the “Arctic Award” at the end, which we are hoping to be able to accomplish.

Yesterday, Day 3, was a long one. We had only one TSD in the morning and looked over the rest of the directions for the day that included a lot of great recommendations for places to stop. There were several great lodges that serve hot food, hot springs, the “Welcome to the Yukon” sign, and a “sign forest,” trees where visitors leave their license plates (tags) from all over the world. We were excited to see that we could play tourist for a day and pull over to take photos.

And photos we took. We had come to a white wonderland worthy of toy-making elves. Cerulean blue sky over tree-topped mountains blanketed in clean white. A view between two mountains, would reveal more white mountains stretching into infinity. Josh and I joked, “Look another majestic photo.” We stopped to take pictures of a pack of big-horned sheep trying to cross a frozen stream. Then, we saw our first bison, digging its nose in the snow, foraging for food. We must have watched the massive creature for ten minutes.

The Velvet Underground and REM played as we turned and dipped along and our radio said, “Mileage 1304—BISON!!!” And soon we came upon a pack of dozens of bison, digging in the snow and trotting along, their associates tucked deep in the trees to the right of us. I had my camera 10 feet from one as it walked by us. To me, this beast looked like doe-eyed snuffalufagus. (sp?) It took all of my good sense not to offer it carrots. We started back up on our way and saw another pack on the left, with nearly as many. Then further, yet another pack. And another. Josh told me that bison used to run through North America in packs of a million of more. Native Americans used to track them by following the sounds of thunder.

We pulled up to the hot springs and decided to just dip our feet in. We still have 300 miles to travel and we really didn’t have time to truly relax and swim there. But I think seeing the springs planted some seeds in Josh’s mind that he might enjoy a weekend trip visiting some near home. I’ll take it.

Day 3 we were headed across the top of BC and one of the mileage markers—“odos” as we say—is the sign for Yukon Territory border. I happened to be reading a book at the time, Peter Freuchen’s Book of the Eskimos, and missed calling out the odometer marker. Josh said, “We passed the sign!” and immediately swung into a wide U-turn and all of the sudden we were on the opposite side of the road, sliding into a ditch.

“Watch out!” I said, “We’ll get stuck!”
“We ARE stuck,” he said and immediately radioed out for help. Not 30 seconds later car 39 came along and swung around in front of us to pull us out. I had to climb out of the driver’s side, because snow was too deep. They warned us that sometimes the snowplows throw the snow over ditches in deceptive manner so that it looks like the shoulder of the road. We just learned that firsthand.

In three minutes, we were out of the ditch, and on our way again. We did go back and get the picture with the Yukon sign. Later, we learned that it was the crappy sign—there is a more official-looking one down the road. I’ll take our picture over one with that official sign any day, now we have a story to go with it.

Eventually, we met up with the Jeepers and made our way north. We saw two Elk scurry from the road as we passed. There were two more moose. And as the sky began to darken, we experienced our second whiteout in this journey. This landscape looks eerily like Naria once twilight comes, and I expect the Ice Queen to come whipping around a bend in her sleigh.

We did make the mistake of stopping for dinner, which took too long when you have 150 miles ahead. Josh and the guys tried Elk sausages and I ordered poutine. I think I ate three forkfuls before we climbed back in the vehicle and we didn’t get in to Whitehorse until 11:30. 11:30 is LATE when you still have several trips of gear to unload, a block warmer to plug in and math to do. Josh and I are sleeping hard, but very little.

The cold part of our trip has officially commenced. This is my second day with long underwear and Josh’s first. The cold bites fast now and we have to keep our heads, ears and hands covered. It’s much harder to get warm, than stay warm.

The Klondike Highway heads due north and we are currently watching the trees get smaller and scrawnier. Since they have less daylight, the trees don’t grow as tall or strong. Slowly, the scenery is turning into tundra, the Arctic desert. We are driving through “dry snow.” It’s so cold it doesn’t get a chance to melt and turn into ice. It stays permanently powdery and they liken driving on it to gravel. It’s easier for the tires to grip onto.

Off to make the ice race…

Note: I’m uploading these photos at 7PM in Dawson City. While I was standing outside watching the race it dropped from -9 degrees F to -11. Currently it’s -17.

It’s 11:38AM Day #2 and we completed our third TSD an hour ago. We have 5 hours to get close to 300 miles to the next TSD and that is not enough time. Over the radio right now, we are listening to the organizers discuss how they planned the event in much better conditions. We are driving over snow and ice and it’s raining, so it’s sliding all over the road and Josh has to drive carefully. He is seriously focused as I write this and I have a feeling tonight, we’ll both be exhausted as we have over 620.53 today with 2 TSDs scheduled. But we aren’t alone. There are about six of us rally cars driving in a line together, with one of the “sweep” trucks in the rear. The “sweeps” are the trucks that make sure no one is straggling and have the gear to pull us out if we get into trouble. We are carrying similar gear ourselves.

It turned out my spreadsheets to calculate rally times actually caught three mistakes in the official Alcan rally guide so far. They mistakes for today were announce about 90 minutes before the start time this morning and I don’t think everyone was able to adjust their checkpoint times but I already had them. Josh and I are feeling like these…

(Pause for now: He just told me to put the laptop away in case he has to slam the breaks and it goes flying.)

6:01PM – now Mountain Time. We made it through that scary icy portion. Josh said it was like driving on marbles for about 70 miles, trying not to let the truck slip sideways again. I took pictures of the road and turquoise frozen waterfalls. The last gas station between our 1^st TSD and 200 miles up the road lost power so no one could gas up and they wouldn’t let you use the bathroom. Josh pulled the gas can off the roof and filled us up so we could make it. I had to pee behind a snowbank. (Well, this blog just got candid, didn’t it?) The rally participants are predominantly male and everyone was congregated trying to calculate their gas mileage to the next state 150 miles away, so I had to hike out in the snow to find some privacy. I didn’t expect this to happen this early in the trip.

The roads cleared up and we were able to make up time, stopping at the Mile 0 Alcan sign, the beginning of the Alaskan Highway, and making it to the second TSD of Day #2 with minutes to spare. And the commentary on our group frequency is pretty hilarious. We always know the mile marker were the RCMP are lurking. “I see donut crumbs at mile 568.” There are even another pair of Southerners on the trip, who sign off, “Yeah, buddy!”

So, I started this post to write about TSDs. The first few days we have many of them, and then when we head up to Inuvik, we won’t be competing for a while…

This morning I woke up with a headache but after a coffee and the first TSD, that combo of caffeine and adrenaline cleared it right up. TSD sections are FUN. I could get into this. The numbers came back from yesterday and we still need to learn how to interpret them but we did hit a couple spots right on time.

We feel like we are getting more and more in sync with each run. I’m checking our times as we hit checkpoints and constantly calculating time and distance to make sure Josh is travelling at the right speed and telling him to “Go, go, go! Bump it up to 40mph!” Or, “Slow it down, we are two seconds fast.” He holds the car at an average speed and navigates, turns, ice and slush and oncoming vehicles. It’s like Mariocart without characters trying to knock you off the road or throwing turtles at you. Since cars leave one minute apart, the rule is “stay in your minute.” We had a little trouble with someone getting in our minute on Day #1 but asked them politely to cut it out. This last race, we came in within the second. Though that doesn’t matter, because they measure us from hidden spots along the race, so you really have to keep the average speed as consistent as possible.

We still have 216 miles to climb north tonight to the hotel. We heard about a “trucker food” restaurant up the way, where many of our new buddies are meeting up, and while I’m not sure what that means, I assume there will be a lot of meat of suspicious quality. Josh and I have been living on salami and crackers, beef jerky, apples, bananas, nuts and Girl Scout cookies. We got to the restaurant so late last night, they were out of food. Today, we have sandwiches with us in case it happens again.

We arrived 50 minutes early for our Day #1 second TSD (Time-Speed-Distance) section on

Day 1 of our rally, so I have some time to write about Seattle. (I finished this entry the next day, as there is really little time to write.)

Josh and his dad drove 2600+ miles from Cobb County, Georgia to Seattle, WA.  I flew up from San Francisco, where I have been working and staying/hanging with my parents, to meet them. We got a 2-bedroom AirBnb in Queen Anne, which is hilly and a little less trafficky. We could park The Yankee on the street easily. They filled me in on their cross-country shenanigans, which included visiting Mt Vernon at night when no one else was in the park, including rangers—sounds eerie. They also both experienced seeing serious snow when they got to Washington State, with the road markers measuring 9-feet deep. Their excitement was infectious and I love that they got to experience that together.

Seattle is an incredible clean, modern city, that has been infected with tech company culture. Matt told me Amazon currently owns around 40 buildings. Bikes culture flourishes and these red-orange city bikes shout out from every nook and cranny downtown. If I had had more time, I would have insisted on riding one waterfront.

Monday morning, Josh woke up early and knocked out a paper for grad school, while I caught up emails. Once it was sent in, we moseyed down the hills to the park, to wander around the Space Needle and its associates. If you’re in the area, the armory right there has a slew of yummy-looking options for a quick bite, that are likely much less expensive than the surrounding museum cafes.

Matt met us there, and it was so great to see him. There is something so fun to see a loved one in a different city, especially Matt, and Josh and I got to introduce him to Josh’s dad, Scottie. Since it was Monday, the lines were absent and Matt was pretty amused by this, having done many Seattle tours and wading through the tourists.

We took some pictures of the Space Needle from below but decided to forgo the expensive trip up. Because really, when you want a picture of the Seattle skyline, what do you want in the picture the most? The Space Needle, duh. A guard at the front gate told us to go to the Carolyn(?) building downtown. It’s taller, they charge half the price and you get a view/picture with Seattle’s lead star.

Next, we headed to the Chihuly Gardens next door. First you get to enter into rooms, showing his barnacle-shaped bowls of technicolored glasswork. You walk through an atrium-like room, sunlight pouring through the red and orange poppy-like flowers tangled overhead. There are rooms of glass alien plants, with bright tentacles reflecting on their black mirrored base, so it looks as if they are floating on a dark pond. The garden itself is other-worldly, the greenery broken with cobalt and orange spikes. Thorny yellow and green trees shout their presence at various corners. Chihuly definitely transports you to another world.

Across the way, is MoPo or the Museum of Pop (Culture), and Matt sold us on the horror exhibit. Josh having grown up watching the classic monster movies, this was a must-see. There was a documentary playing inside mentioning Wicker Man, and commentary from Martin Scorsece (?) stated that is was the Citizen Cane of horror. Other highlights were the control panel from the original Frankenstein movies. We saw the mask from Creature of the Black Lagoon, a movie of which we have a poster of on the wall at home. The fantasy exhibit was fantastic, with the original swords and six-fingered glove from The Princess Bride. We also saw Dorothy’s blue checkered dress. Down below, we saw the guitar Jimi Hendrix played the Star Spangled Banner with at Woodstock. And, of course, we visited the Mindcraft exhibit to take pictures for the kids.

Finally, we headed to Pike Place for piroshkys and…

Timeout: I am writing this in the car on Day #2 in British Columbia and we just skidded across the slush towards oncoming traffic and Josh pulled us out of it.

So, piroshskys. (Whew!) That is the second time in my life I’ve had them at Pike Place and they are a must. Out of our selections, the beef and cheese was the best. We wandered around the market with full warm tummies. Matt got us eat some chocolate-covered cherries, because, “You have to eat cherries in Washington, it’s a thing.” Then we headed down below the market to see the most revolting thing I’ve seen in quite a while. There is a wall of gum—yes, GUM, people stick their chewed up gum all over a stone hallway and even form it to created little designs and letters. I was thinking how many pathogens were swarming around us from the fresher samples and, at the same time, admiring the mosaic-appeal the wall had. And you bet I’m going to post of picture of that—HA.

Then, it was time to say good-bye to Matt, who is seriously an incredible tour guide and one of my favorite people on this planet. (LOVE YOU!) We still had our 1000^th and last trip to Home Depot and REI to make to pick up some extra supplies that evening, so we settled in early.

Scottie had an early flight to catch and on the way back we caught some great views of the city.