The car was packed, everything we own was tucked inside, the route planned and the maps laid ready. Adventure was ahead, the comforts of home and a tinge of sadness lingered the rear-view. 2,660 miles to Alaska. 2,660 miles to the wild unknown. Terror and excitement lingered close together, the two indistinguishable from one another. I had only a vague idea of what was ahead. My now husband had been backpacking in Denali once. On the other hand I’d never been on a cruise to Alaska let alone set foot in an airport there. I had just few photos from the internet and the knowledge that it was a magical land where orcas could been seen in their wild habitat and the bears roamed widely.
I could hardly believe we were actually doing this, somehow everything had come together. The whole thing was nearly called off when finding a pet friendly apartment, never mind the affordability, was nearly impossible. Occasionally one would pop up and we’d contact the landlord. Every time they’d tell us not to bother trying to get one of us out there to look at it, they had already rented it or there were 10 other people interested. They weren’t going to wait, why should they? Of course, we were not about to wire money to a stranger off craigslist. After weeks of searching I was defeated. It seemed we either weren’t going or I was going by myself until he could come with the animals. I wondered what we were thinking, it had begun to seem like too much.
There we were though, nerves bounced excitedly as we prepared to pull out of the driveway, having just said our final farewells. Overwhelm, fear and excitement coexisted. I reminded myself I asked for this, I wanted an adventure and had applied to every job I could find anywhere in Alaska, Montana, Washington, Oregon and Colorado – and we were setting off for the final frontier. We’d read that it rains there a lot, we were okay with it though. We loved a good thunderstorm and had an umbrella and rain jackets. And there are orcas. Wild orcas. I already knew I wasn’t leaving until I saw orcas and once I saw them I’d never leave. The ocean had always fascinated me, I read every book I could get my hands on as a kid. The books about the ocean and the animals inhabiting them were the best prizes from those school fundraises. What can I say? Books still hold that same magic. At one point I’d begged my mother to adopt a manatee for me, they instead adopted an orca because they were out of manatees. No, seriously. I don’t get it either, but I’ve asked recently. This was a decision they may now partially regret. These magical, intelligent animals had captured my heart and we were sitting out for a wild adventure thousands of miles from home where they could be found. Perhaps it would have been Florida if manatees were available. Then again, if they’d know they’d probably have adopted a black bear instead, something close to home.
We were off though, my now husband and his brother driving the U-Haul. Me following behind, the music blasting as cities slowly turned to open roads and the mountains grew taller. The first day flew by, daydreaming of Alaska and enjoying the open road. We made it 779 miles that first day, all the way to Great Falls Montana where we’d spend the night before crossing into Canada in the morning.
The towns were growing sparser as we pushed further north. We’d missed our last chance to fuel in Sweet Grass before crossing the border, a mistake we’d realize when we finally found a gas station on the other side of the border. It wasn’t that we’d almost run out fuel. Oh no, it was the shocking price of the gas. Forward or back, there was no choice but to press on. The drive was beginning to feel long, towns had grown sparse, the land sprawled out as far as can see, level in every direction with only the faintest hints of mountains behind us. We’d made it 515 miles for the day into Edmonton, Alberta.
As we pressed on the farmlands were at last morphed into rolling hills and forests, and wildlife began to replace the barns and windmills as we make it into Dawson Creek. We had made it a total of 1,930 miles, only 730 miles were left. We were definitely getting further from home, Starbucks had turned into Tim Hortons, speed limits were posted in kilometers and it turned out people really do say ‘eh a lot.
The land had turned wild. We were on the Alaska Highway. Big horn sheep and black bears were more common than people. Black bears with their cubs grazed on dandelions in the roadside ditches. We’d stopped for lunch at a campground with a little restaurant and gift shop for lunch, one of the few options out here. I inquired about gluten free options, and the waitress informed me they had nothing. Even a burger without a bun wasn’t an option, they put flour in the patties too. Eating on the road with celiac had turned out to be challenging, usually it’s easy enough to get something simple. Meat and veggies. Out here the options were sparse, many places no have few, if any. Living off trail mix, gummies and caffeine was fine for maybe half a day, I desperately wanted real food though. Thankfully, in the big cities where we’d stayed the nights we were always able to find something. My husband inquired about grizzlies out here and the staff told us there were not any close by to here. It sure felt wild out there though and as we were leaving a moose made an appearance across the lake.
We continued on the winding mountain roads in awe at the breathtaking views. I was transfixed by the beauty as something ran in front in front of the boys. I didn’t believe it at first, it couldn’t have been. It was though, a grizzly had just darted across the road and was just off the road, perhaps rooting around but paying no mind to the vehicle that when zooming past. I pulled over, eager to observe this creature in its natural habitat. The camera, though in the front seat for just this purpose, was zipped in the case. I snapped a quick phone photo and while reaching for the nice camera it looked up at me. Straight at me. I wondered for a split second how fast they could run before stepping on the gas. Today was not a day to find out. Turned out there were grizzlies out here after all.
The days 320 miles felt both leisurely and long, as we followed the remote mountain road into Ft. Nelson. Things had been relatively smooth up until this point, that night though all of the hotels seemed to be full. It was hours to the next town and we had the animals. After calling around he finally found us the last room at a restaurant/hotel that shall not be named. The springs under the bed were rusted and stuck out, this of course the very first place the cat went to hide from the dog. After we’d carefully extracted her from the dangerous mess when we saw it, the poor thing had to sleep in her carrier letting us know frequently she was not a fan. The beds were terrible, and the morning revealed there had been mosquitoes for company during the night. Driving through the night would have been preferable to that place.
Exhausted from a restless night I was ready to give up and turn back. I was frustrated and missing home. The thought crossed my mind that I could get in my car and just start driving the other direction. In a way I’m surprised I didn’t. It was beautiful out there through, so peaceful and something about it felt like we were going home. Some tears later we managed to get back on the road, and pressed onward as the landscape grew more dramatic with every mile. By that point it felt really real. The days grew longer and longer as we made out north, wild songs playing in every direction. I could feel it, we were headed home.
As we approached the Alaskan border the fog began to set in. It grew thicker and thicker around every bend in the road until the world had been swallowed. Driving through this thick fog seemed to last for hours, a few feet of road and the ever so faint glow of boy’s taillights were the only visible. You couldn’t stop, you couldn’t see anywhere to pull over and wait. Everything was gone and forward was the only option.
By the end of that fifth day we crossed the border and made it into Skagway, where we’d wait for the ferry. We had made it to Alaska. The hotel in Skagway was much better, though the plan to return the car trailer there had backfired – turns out there was nowhere to do so. We could have driven out of our way to return it in Canada but decided against it – a decision we’d come to regret. Well perhaps just me, but that day we had a blissful afternoon and enjoyed exploring the tiny little town.
As we waited in line at the ferry the next morning, we found out that due to the trailer we were under booked by a few feet. Ultimately, the U-Haul was not getting on. The boys stayed another night in Skagway as I continued on by myself, I was scheduled to start work in the morning. Pulling off of the ferry was surreal, then again so was being on the ferry, my car stowed below. It was an overcast day and still the water sparkled, and the mountains jetted straight out the sea. There were two options leaving the ferry terminal. You could go left to the end of road or right to Juneau. Go past downtown and you would soon reach the other end of the road. Total there were just about 190 miles of road, excluding the connected island.
I had made it. The hotel was our home for the next few weeks while we waited for the apartment to be ready. It was just days past the summer solstice and the days were so long. The sun still went strong at 10 pm, still twilight an hour later, barely fading into darkness before waking again. I made through that first day of work, everyone seemed nice and the boys had arrived. It was time to explore. Meeting up with them for dinner they told me of how they had the luckiest encounter of seeing not one pod but two pods of orcas on the ferry ride. To this day I regret not calling my boss and waiting with them, of course it’s only in hindsight you know it wouldn’t have been an issue and that orcas would happen to be there.
It’s funny driving all those miles to a place with few roads, to a magical place you can’t drive in and out of without driving your car onto a boat. A wild place, just a little north, but not too far, that drips with magic in every direction. It was everything I’d wanted and yet that didn’t stop the overwhelm, the stress, the fear. It was a big a big adjustment and the move had pushed me so far out of my comfort zone in ways I’d never imagined. I’d definitely underestimated a cross country move. We were in Alaska though, we had made it, all 2,660 miles.
All those miles later I discovered what rain really is in a temperate rainforest, and invested in a real rain jacket and a pair of rubber boots. That umbrella, well it hasn’t been opened once. As for the thunder storms? There’s been one in the years we’ve been here. It’s the strangest thing. Who would have thought that a place with so much rain wouldn’t get thunderstorms? That of course was only just the tip of the ice burg of Alaska’s magic and mystery. When we packed the car five years ago it was exciting and terrifying. Make no mistake, the drive along the Alaska Highway was breathtaking, the world showing off it’s dazzling wonders around every corner, but it was no drive down rainbow road. Or maybe that is exactly what it was, complete with all the obstacles. It was definitely an adventure, and that is when I feel most alive – sharing adventures with loved ones. I may never really know where I’m going, but so long as I’m here those trusty rubber boots are always close by, ready for an adventure in any weather. True to my word, now that I’ve seen orcas, I’m not sure I can eve