Facing the Eastern Sierras, shortly after the moon set. #ilikegettingawayfromallofyou
I am guilty of abandoning this side of the internet for more than half-a-year, while visiting exotic (and not-so-exotic) places of the world. I was worried about the non-linear sequence of events, and had a little maintenance to do in the back-end of things. Pictures are now going to be bigger, and the layout is dynamic and will adjust to most screen sizes (even tablets and mobile phones). I guess these are the problems of the 21st century, the modern day equivalent of 800x600 vs 1024x768 hooplas.
Now that I've got that out of the way, I figured, F it. I'm sitting on a massive backlog of material that I have been meaning to share. I'll be back-posting dates, so keep an eye out for some crazy shit.
Currently in a parking lot in upstate NY, listening to the dancing raindrops on the roof of our Volkswagen.
Thousands of miles away from home, with two of the greatest friends anyone could ever hope for.
I am, always, home.
The Athabasca Falls from Jasper National Park, in Canada. This was an awe inspiring sight, as the thousands of gallons of water thundered down the rocks incessantly. It was very powerful, trapping you in a feeling of helplessness and awe, knowing that you were so close to such an amazing torrent of power that would swallow you whole. It is vividly different from other waterfalls I've seen, because our vantage point was so close, and the roar of the water blanketed your ego and doused you in fear. We're always used to being in control of our environment, but it's sometimes refreshing to think that in fact, we are nothing.
Enjoying a cold stout at the Silver Gulch Brewery, "America's Most Northern Brewery".
I could honestly get used to life on the road, living within the confines of a peculiar VW bus. It's a really simple setup, and everything is within quick reach. The great part is running out of data on a roaming network and having to rely on paper maps and books to figure out where to go. The best itineraries are always offered by locals when you stop to talk. Nothing spoils real life like the Internet (and hordes of tourists). Live simply, live fully.
We spend a lifetime accumulating so much material things, that we think are necessary to live our lives. Yet precisely when we are at the moments of profound discovery and introspection, the depth of emotion is carried not by the magnitude nor multitude of our posessions, but by our humbling placement in this beautiful world, without them.
Felt like thousands of miles driving through Canada. Partly because it's true, we have driven more than a "few" thousand miles by this point. This sequence is from the very beautiful Glenn highway corridor, coming into Alaska.
In the small town of Hope. The water is very blue, and very cold. Lots of people are out fishing.
Yesterday, we visited the majestic Matanuska Glacier along the outskirts of Glenn Highway, shortly before we hit Anchorage. You could see this bad-boy from miles away, and we could hardly contain our excitement as we squealed like piglets about to be fed their first slice of awesome pie.
Although Kat and I generally like to keep our money inside our pockets, we opted to splurge a little by renting equipment and hiring our own guide to explore the ice fields. If we were going to do this once, we wanted to do it right. Triple the squealing when we found out that we could bring Nickel along!! Two were squeals of delight, and the third... Not so much.
We learned about the terminology behind glaciers, like the terminus and moraine, and how you shouldn't go out after fresh snowfall in the spring unless you wanted to get sucked into hole and disappear from the face of the planet. We spent a few hours with our minds blown wide open, amazed also at the very eerie similarity of ice and our familiarity with the desert. It felt like we were in another planet - which is what it generally feels like when you open your eyes and try to fathom that there is more to this world than the people in it.
Oh great Matanuska, it was a great privilege and honor to have come before you.
Grilling with the greatest view in the history of lunchtime.
Greetings, from Anchorage. :)
Having driven more than 2800 miles since leaving our garage, there have been ZERO technical difficulties as far as Vanessa came. I watched the CHT (cylinder head temperature) gauge like a madman, and religiously checked the oil level at each gas up. She was running like a top, and at idle was purring like a tiger.
Alas, on a normal gas up routine in Watson Lake in BC, I turned the key in the ignition, and heard the oddly familiar sound of the *click* of a dead starter. Familiar, because Kat and I have gotten tired of crawling under the bus, and had already installed a 'hot-start relay' a few years ago to address this very problem. Everything else checked out - the battery had lots of juice, but the starter wasn't turning.
Hey man, nice rug.
A quick inspection revealed a blown out 15 amp fuse. The massive amounts of driving and stop-starts we were doing must've done a number. No worries. I had no spare 15A fuse, so I popped in a 10A and she fired up.
Things were going fine, until we hit the last stretch of highway in BC before hitting Alaska, when I managed to blow 2 more 10A fuses in succession. We knew we had a problem, and we'd keep blowing the 10's. The plan was to not shut off the engine, until we bought the proper 15A fuse. I held one last 10A spare to get us by, and sneak us back into America. Or so we thought.
I was kinda hoping this RV would crash into the ceiling.
Upon crossing into the US border, we lined up to the single customs/immigration lane that was open. A line of vehicles waiting behind us was starting to grow. As we pulled up, the officer asked me to shut off the engine.
Well, that's fine. I had a spare fuse in my pocket, and could pop it back in to start again after our interrogation was over. We answered the typical questions. No officer, we don't have weapons. Yes, the plates are really HEY 1979. No, we don't have any "plants". We're on our honeymoon, and driving into Alaska for a few weeks. And when he says "Okay, thanks, you can drive through" while handing us our paperwork, I cross my fingers and turn the ignition.
I look at the officer and shyly explain that we've been having start issues, and that I'll need 30 seconds to pop in a new fuse under the bus. By the time I finish my sentence, I was already on the ground replacing the one that bombed when I tried to start it. I ran back into the bus, and turned the ignition.
Shit. That was the sound of my last fuse that just exploded.
Quickly assessing the situation. I was holding up a sizable line, and we were the only lane open. I looked at the officer in the eye, and said "Well, looks like we'll need to push her out of the way". Guys, you should've seen the look on his face. He gets out of his stall.
My last memory is having him push the bus with Kat, and hearing him shout to pull it over the edge and try to push-start the engine. I kick the clutch, gear into second, release, and BOOM the engine turns over into a happy idle. Kat squeals and jumps triumphantly from the back, and runs up into her seat. High fives all around, while Nickel gives us a dirty look.
And that, is the story of how the Border/Immigration agent, pushed our little VW bus back into America.
Tried to gas up at the local station at Dease Lake, BC, but found out that the station closed a few minutes before we got there. A guy on a motorcycle was around the pump talking to someone else who was trying to gas up, but no dice for any of us. We decide to push forward to the next town, since we had a lot of hours of light left for driving.
The only problem, was that it was WAY further than I expected. And the needle of the gas gauge slowly started creeping down towards the empty line. And past it! I semi-panic while feathering the pedal up hills and trying to come up with Plan-C
in case when we run out of gas. Turns out, that would be the least of our worries.
We BARELY make it to Good Hope Lake (very foretelling), and coast into the empty (and closed) gas station. It looks like we're stranded until it opens again the next morning, so Kat and I choose a flat spot and sulk over the time lost while we wait for gas. Meanwhile, the same moto-adventure rider comes up from behind us, and we talk for a bit. He's out of gas too, and will pitch a tent closeby. Yay for neighbors!
We're amazed to find out that he spent several years in Manila, studying in an international school in Rizal. We would have never guessed, with his blue eyes and blond hair. He bought his motorcycle less than 6 months ago, and is taking it from Denver to Alaska. These are the kinds of people we love meeting, and I offer him a cold Tecate as he begins to offload his gear.
As we're getting our stuff ready, a local pickup truck comes by after they notice us hanging out by the gas station. Long story short, there is a bear lurking around town, and the school house directly across the street was ransacked just the previous day. And that they did NOT recommend the guy sleeping in a tent around this area, unless you wanted to meet your end as bear-food.
So they take off, and pick up the owner of the gas station who is their friend, to open the store and help us gas up. I gave them our last few cans of Tecate as a thank you gift ("What is this? Is it any good? I've never had Mexican beer before"). We thank the woman who owns the gas station profusely for opening the store just for us.
While we're settling our bill inside, we suddenly hear a loud BOOM of a shotgun. And it sounded close.
"Whoa, what was that?"
"Oh.. They must've gotten him!", the lady said.