Fairbanks to Anchorage

Outside the motel was a clock and thermometer. When I first awoke the temperature was 26 degrees. Please remember the Americans are the only retarded country in the world still using imperial measurements and Fahrenheit temperature scales. This is a totally stupid scale – what the hell is it based on? The Celsius scale is based on water – the most common compound on earth and 70%, or more, component of all life on the planet – zero being the freezing point and 100 being the boiling point (taken at sea level, yes). So we have this ridiculous scale running from 32 for freezing to 212 for boiling, so where is the sense in that? Any answer other than “none” is wrong.

Anyway, I managed to work out that t-shirt and no jacket would not be a good idea as it was below freezing. I also noticed the snow in the night had covered all the tracks I had noticed before I fell asleep – so we’d had about 5cm – a light dusting in local terms.

I got myself something to eat at the Denny’s next door to the hotel because I thought I had better start out full ready for the drive to Anchorage – about 318 miles. Having ensured that the car & myself were fully fuelled it was time to slide my way out of Fairbanks.

Once I had got myself on the south bound Highway 1 I could concentrate on keeping the Grunt Monster going straight forwards as opposed to sideways. This was not due to over-zealous use of acceleration but the fact that ice on roads with a bend in them will tend to make things slide sideways. Having cleared Fairbanks things improved until well into Denali National park – where they got “a bit slippy” again. I did take the opportunity of daylight to stop at some of the scenic views on the way back and it was well worth it.

The roads cleared up as I headed further south with just another dodgy patch as I hit Willow again and then everything was plain sailing into Anchorage.

I was also really pleased with myself in finding the hostel first time when I entered Anchorage’s urban sprawl. The variable speed limits do help as they can be 65, 55, 45, or 35mph depending on whether one is on open highway or in town. (If one is approaching a school bus stop and the lights are flashing the speed limit is 20mph.) As most people stick to speed limits (the fines are quite harsh I am told) then it does give one time to read road signs and get in the correct lane.

When I arrived several people I had met were still there and asked me how the trip went. I spent quite a while chatting to Eric about the places I had been and he was embellishing parts of what more, or different, can be had in different seasons. Like in summer when they get 23 hours of daylight in Fairbanks, or in winter where they get 3 hours of daylight. He was most enthusiastic about Alaska and that was why he stayed there – because it is special. I have had a taster of what the locals can get hooked on and can understand why.

I had a different dorm this time, but I had it all to myself so I wasn’t complaining. After getting everything sorted out and packed for departure I had something to eat and checked emails. I also checked my flight and hostel bookings to ensure there hadn’t been any changes or alterations – there hadn’t, so I went to bed and slept soundly.

I knew I could afford to have a lie in tomorrow as my flight wasn’t until 17:10 and I didn’t have to get the car back until 15:00, so a leisurely start to the day would be fine.

Homer – Fairbanks

This will be the longest leg of my road trip and will take me furthest north. (I wrote that bit yesterday.)

I am now in Fairbanks at the end of the most amazing, terrifying and exhilarating drives of my life and I am very proud to have done it! The story unfolds thus:

I awoke in my “captain’s cabin” shortly before 8:00 and was up and ready to roll by 8:30. As it wasn’t playing monsoon outside I decided to drive to the end of Homer Spit. I am glad I did as I got some lovely photographs of the sun rising over the mountains. I could imagine how dodgy it must be to try to get to the end of the spit in a raging storm – I know the signs warning of dangerous waves and the road becoming immersed weren’t just for fun. Having seen it in the pouring rain yesterday I didn’t have to stretch my imagination that much.. Having had a little walk around and taken some pictures I decided to crack on with my journey as I was wondering if I might have bitten off more than I could chew in my intentions. We shall see.

The journey back up Highway 1 was just a retrace of yesterday’s with the exception of a detour to Girdwood. This is a lovely little resort townette. It is a resort and resort centre at the end nearest the mountain and as one travels towards the Highway (or from it) it comprises of sod-off houses with umpty-something bedrooms (by the size and numbers of windows) and large grounds. Unfortunately neither the chair lifts nor cable cars (they call it a “tram” – although it has no tracks) were in operation as they were “closed for the season”. Shame, I would have gone on one or the other. The helicopters and planes were still operating, but I ruled those out on grounds of time and cost – I would like to get to Fairbanks in daylight if possible.

Having returned to Highway 1 I “set the controls for the heart of the sun” and Anchorage. Using Douglas Adams very cleaver guide to flying (throw oneself at the ground and at the last possible minute – miss) I missed Anchorage and headed north. The highway takes one through several small towns and I stopped in Willow for fuel. Having charmed another lady with my accent I continued on feeling much happier that I had a “full tank of gas”.

The snow started falling with a vengeance. This wasn’t too much of a problem until I encountered the part of the road where it had settled. The further north I went the worse the conditions got and the more “interesting” the bends got. It was at this time I had my three big fears spring to mind:-

1. Hitting something big – like a moose. Moose are VERY big when seen close up, bigger than horses, and would total the car.
2. Sliding off the road – the roads are raised and even if I didn’t roll the car over getting back on the road would be very hard indeed.
3. Being hit by something coming the other way – although that was the lesser of the evils as there seemed to be very little/no traffic anywhere.

I could begin to see why all these people drive small penis mobiles – the lack of temperature is a perfect excuse – as the extra traction of a 16 would be useful in regaining the highway. I could also understand how people can get stranded and die from exposure, especially if their vehicle was damaged preventing the running of a heater.

I stopped at the “Medal of Honor Memorial” (That is how they spell it) to use the toilet and have a look whilst I was there. The snow came half way up my shins when I got out of the car and in places where it had drifted it was up to my knees. It was only when I was coming back from the toilet I noticed the big notice board (one of many) detailing the varieties of bear they get around here – basically all of them! (Black, Brown & Grizzly) It is silly, I know, and looking back on it now I laugh at myself but I suddenly had this wave of unnatural fear come over me. Here I was in the middle of nowhere with no one around shin deep in snow with snow falling and the possibilities of hungry bears or wolves around! I got a grip on myself and waded to the memorial in order to take a few photographs and stretch my legs. I ran through the “Things not to do when encountering a bear” list i.e. DO NOT RUN – they have a chase instinct, do not look the bear in the eye – they take this as challenge behaviour, remain still and calm. Failing that turn around pick up a handful of poo and throw it at the bear because if the first three haven’t worked the poo will definitely be there! I just whistled a tune as I did my “Scott of the Antarctic” impersonation even though I was at the wrong end of the world. (I was nearer to the Arctic!)

Having regained the safety and warmth of the car I decided to head onwards and stop at the first motel/hotel/hostel/tent I could find. Getting out of the memorial parking place was fun and required the judicious use of forward and reverse thrust – traction control helps but doesn’t ensure miracles. I also harboured a thought of being stuck there overnight but relied on my strength of will, right foot, and however many horsepower were at my disposal. After exhausting four horses I was out and back on the highway.

There must be some stupid twist in “the English gene” which makes us go forward into adversity (perhaps it is just plain stupidity – I don’t know) but that is what I did. The road got worse to the point of the “traction control active” indicator being on more often than not. I did pass a few motels – all shut – and was beginning to think about executing a U-turn (brave, brave Sir Robin) when I entered the Denali National Park.

The roads were clear the snow had stopped falling and it was evening time. Oh well, I thought, might as well carry on now – so I did. The drive was very interesting with some bendy roads and straight bits wending through the Alaska Range of mountains (the one that contains Mount McKinley) and promising all sorts of glorious views if it was daylight.

A little later on I was looking around and checking the mirror to see what bastard was flashing me. I found out the bastard’s name – The Moon. The moon had risen, a bright full moon in a cloudless sky. One could almost have driven with no lights on it was that bright. (Don’t worry Mummy, I didn’t try it.) The flickering or flashing effect was caused by the stand of trees alongside the road and once I got into the mountains the trees had gone and the moonshine was unimpeded. It gave the mountains a totally different look, especially the snow covered peaks, which appeared to shine with a bluish hue. The mountainsides in direct moon light looked to be fashioned from hammered silver and the wonderful ethereal glow that moon light gives was really prominent in the cold clean mountain air. It was quite breathtaking and worth the hardship of the snow in itself.

The journey time had been, obviously, longer than I had anticipated but as I was approaching Fairbanks with cloudless moonlit skies I had high hopes of seeing the Northern Lights. However, this did not last long as the clouds rolled in blotting out the moon and shedding snow in their wake. I had also heard before, but totally forgotten that Fairbanks was hosting the AFN Convention. This is the Alaskan Federation of Natives and consists of several tribes coming together in a big show (like the old Gang Show used to be) and attended by lots of people. As a result all the hostels, motels and hotels were fully booked, but I managed to find a bed at the Super 8 Motel as the result of a cancellation. Not having much of a choice – that or the car – I took it and hoped I might get to see something of the Northern Lights after all.

I got some more of this written up whilst the adrenaline seeped out of my body (I was three days behind) but the cloud refused to clear off and I didn’t get to see the Northern Lights after all. I traded this for still being alive and having seen the Denali National Park by moonlight, and for having been able to straighten out a sliding car on ice. On the whole a disappointing but fair swap. I will just have to come back and see them another time. In fact Alaska is definitely a place I would like to return to – and spend far more time seeing so many things.

Spank refused to come out when he saw the snow and was quite rude in letting me know he was a jungle dweller – i.e. warm temperate climates, not bloody freezing – so I let him sulk in peace.
I eventually crawled into bed about 1:00am when I actually started to feel tired and dropped off straight away.

Seward – Homer

It was dark when I woke up at 8:00 so it threw me out a bit. This is normal for this time of year here as the sun doesn’t rise until 9:00. I was all ready to go and checked out by sunrise.

As it had been a week or so since I “spoke to the folks back home” and I had purchased a new ‘phone card in Anchorage, I telephoned Mother and had a long chat to her. I had tried ringing Ameleah to wish her “Happy Birthday” but there was no reply – no matter I will try later (must remember I am up to nine hours difference from the UK) but must make it before 14:00.

Having done that I set off for Homer. This entailed retracing my steps back to Highway 1 and then heading south. The weather was getting progressively worse as I went turning from rain to snow. As I was getting hungry I decided a refuelling stop, for me, was the order of the day so I stopped at a typical little roadside diner. The pull in was ankle deep in snow and where it had been well trafficked it was just thick ice, which made me grateful for the traction control and ABS on the Grunt Monster.

I asked if they had a ‘phone in the diner and the helpful lady just spun the telephone around that was sitting beside the till and said “there you go”. I asked if it will be ok to use with my ‘phone card to which she said “sure honey, and I just love your accent” (another one I’d charmed by speaking). I called Millie and wished her happy birthday and discovered, as expected, that my card hadn’t arrived on time. I hoped a week would be enough especially as I sent it air mail from Juneau – and I know Juneau has an airport! If it is any consolation I was thinking of you on the day – and do often.

Having eaten whilst watching the small waterfall coming off the roof from the melting snow, it was time to hit the road again. The sun had come out and all looked well as I continued to Homer. The landscape here flattens out remarkably and the mountains are only distant humps. Either side of the road are flat plains with short firs growing on them which was a total contrast from the earlier scenery where one was always looking at a mountainside of some description. It was quite strange seeing so much sky. I knew my luck wouldn’t hold as it started bucketing down when I got about forty miles from Homer. It continued in this vain accompanied by a vicious wind which could switch the rain from vertical to horizontal at every blast. This was most spectacular when I got to the Homer Spit. I have to confess that I chickened out of driving to the end through the grey curtain which hid the end of it. I took one look at the sign reading “WARNING Waves may cover causeway in bad weather” realised it told no lies and turned back into main town Homer.

I found a motel down by the waterside as the main drag places were full or shut for the season.

My room was like a little captain’s cabin and was lovely and snug. The place over the road “Duggan’s Pub” had their steak night special going, so I enjoyed a steak dinner and a pint for $20.

When I got back to my little cabin Spank was playing with the ship’s wheel and I decided to let him have a treat and watch some TV. We found the Cartoon Network was showing Futurama followed by Family Guy so that was wonderful.

After that it was lights out – literally!

Anchorage – Seward

I awoke by 8:00 and was breakfasted and ready to roll by 10:30. Most of the delay was spent defrosting the car as we had had another light downfall of snow and frost. I let the thing consume 25 litres of fuel idling whilst all the windows cleared and the heater worked most efficiently. Whilst this was happening I sat and had a coffee, smoke and chat with Roger, who is a supervisor in Denali National Park during spring & summer. Roger is one of those instantly likeable blokes who is witty, fun and gentle of nature. He reminded me of an American version of Roger “Deke” Leonard in his views and outlooks (laid back and liberal). I will have to ask him if he plays the guitar. He had lent me a couple of maps and gave me some pointers on directions and landmarks. He rounded it off with the summary “Alaska only has one real highway, and that is named Highway 1.” I was due to stay another night at the hostel but I had a word with Jason and postponed my night to Saturday when I return to Anchorage in time to fly to Seattle on Sunday.

Getting on the right road was simple – especially as it was daylight (in fact very bright sunlight) – as all I had to do was hang a left on Tudor Road. (This was pronounced Two-Door by the taxi-driver guy who gave me a lift to the airport. It confused me until I saw the name and then translation was easy.) Following that one gets to Highway 1 where one can go north or south. I went south.

The highway was sparsely trafficked, which suited me nicely, and in places covered in packed snow but I just kept the Grunt Monster at a constant 60mph, thanks to cruise control, (the speed limit is 65mph) and avoided any rapid movements of the steering wheel. This disappeared after a few miles and the road was clear and dry. There was one point where I was dawdling down the road watching the scenery and a huge Mack truck rounded a bend and appeared in my rear view mirror. I had a momentary flashback to “Duel” and stamped on the “gas pedal” which caused the monster to growl, sit down at the back and take off. Having put rather a large distance between us I slowed down and pulled in to the next stopping place to let the truck pass. It did, without bellowing its horn at me or trying to run me over or push me off a cliff! Duel flashback over. I rejoined the highway and went back to dawdling and watching the scenery.

The scenery was stunning as the road follows the mountain range through a pass and then along the coast. I had to stop myself from pulling into every parking bay and scenic photograph spot otherwise the journey would have taken a day and a half! (Well it wouldn’t; because it would have got dark – and that would have stopped me.) Having now convinced myself that I will see as much beautiful scenery as I pass – I made progress. I also found Mix FM on the radio which seemed to play just the right music for rolling through the scenery: Eddie Grant, ZZ Top, Pearl Jam, etc.

Another memorable part of the journey was when one of my crowns came out as I was cruising along Highway 9 (that’s the other highway which runs to Seward) chewing some gum. I retrieved it from my mouth and stuck it in my jacket pocket. I will have to see about getting it refitted when I get to Seattle. (I expect they have dentists there.)

I pulled into Seward mid-afternoon and had a cruise around it. Most places were shut for the season, including most of the hotels and all the hostels. I settled for a Holiday Inn:

1. Because it was open
2. It had Internet access

Having dumped all my bags, I unpacked the laptop got it connected to the Internet and started downloading the RWC Final. I then went out for something to eat.

I found a wonderful little diner in town and devoured a three course meal accompanied by lots of coffee. One thing I really like here is that once you get a cup of coffee and empty it, they just keep refilling it until you say “no”.

Feeling stuffed and ready to just sit in a chair I returned to my hotel to do just that.

Well, I actually got to watch the Rugby World Cup Final. Yes, it was disappointing but the better side won. Despite the incorrect refereeing decisions – there were three critical ones:-

· The turnover scrum just before half time. Smit was standing upright in the middle of the scrum! When was that rule changed?
· Mark Cueto’s try – which clearly was a try. 15-11 or 15-13 would have been a more reflective, and fairer, score line.
· The body check on Cueto as he followed up his kick – Smit knew exactly what he was doing (watch it again and see him look over his shoulder before stepping in front of Cueto) and should have gone to the bin for it. The penalty from where the ball landed would have made a difference too!

I wouldn’t say we were robbed because losing 7 or 8 of your own lineouts at that level of play is critical. Enough said; we move on.

I crawled off to bed and didn’t bother setting an alarm as I was sure I would be up early enough to get going and get to Homer comfortably.

Anchorage – Day 1

My first full day in Anchorage started late – not intentionally – for which I blame the mountain air because I crawled into bed and died. I remember getting up a couple of times to go to the toilet but it was dark and I didn’t notice times until I woke up for real at 10:00 – which means I slept for 12 hours! The nice surprise when I did get up was to find a thin layer of snow over everything. It appears the snow fairy came out to play last night.

As someone had made the coffee using the bleached water Jason was soaking the jug in overnight – coffee was off, so Roger & I walked over to the “gas station”/convenience store to get a coffee. Good bloke reminded me I wanted a ‘phone card as I’d mentioned it to him and then forgot to get one. He also taught me the “Alaskan shuffle” for walking on compacted snow and ice as one can’t “walk regular” in those conditions. (I am quite pleased that I am learning new languages on my travels!)

A few hours later having chatted to Roger & Eric about various things and watching Orange County burn under these wild fires they have sweeping across California and New Orleans flood again in torrential rain, I thought I’d better “get my ass in gear” (more foreign language. Or I could have used “get my shit together”) and organise something.
[Observation from news channel: They showed speeches about the wild fires and the damage they are causing – enough for it to be declared an emergency zone – from both Governor Schwarzenegger and President Bush and guess who was the most fluent and eloquent? (Clue: his first language is not English.) Hasta La Vista Baby!]

I rang the number of a car hire place Jason recommended and hired a car. One of the guys staying here is a taxi driver who was off today, so he ran me to the airport to pick up the car. Having completed all the formalities I located the vehicle and promptly attempted to get in the wrong side – that is the seat without a steering wheel in front of it! I covered this mistake very well by adjusting the passenger seat so that it wasn’t tilted forward and blocking full view out of the passenger side window and then got in the driver’s side. Having adjusted all the mirrors to suit I started the thing up. I have no problem driving automatics, in fact it adapts well to my lazy style, however I was rather surprised by the responsiveness of the thing – it is a red Pontiac Grand Prix and I don’t know how many horses it hides under its bonnet (hood) but I reckon there are enough to pull a fully laden Wells Fargo stagecoach at a fair lick all day long. It also appears they have been fed on steroid enhanced hay because if one treads on the “gas pedal” quite heavily it gives a gleeful little leap forward and makes a deep growly noise. In the vernacular I believe “it will haul ass”, so I look forward to playing with it on an open empty highway – sensibly of course. I did have one disappointment though; my penis did not automatically double in size when I got in it – still one can’t have everything. I found my way back to the hostel with no problem, thanks to a good sense of direction, and didn’t have any problem being on the wrong side of the road either. I was beginning to look forward to my little road trip.

I then proceeded to book my flight out of Anchorage to coincide with returning the car and for several reasons opted to fly to Seattle rather than straight to New York. I checked out hostels in Seattle and made reservations accordingly – Green Tortoise here I come.

Along the way I will find somewhere which has wireless Internet connection so I can post these entries up to date. The hostel has Internet access but via their PCs and wires. I did pick up some more emails and will reply to them when I get more access time, so apologies for the delays folks, but I am in “The Last Frontier”. (Alaska’s state motto.)
Having done all that I felt I had earned something to eat (and I felt hungry) so I decided to drive out and find somewhere. This was wonderful until I came to return – it had got dark! Things are different in darkness as I am sure you are aware.
Landmarks are not visible and street signs not as easy to see, so I am sure you will not be surprised to learn that I spent nearly an hour getting hopelessly lost in Anchorage before heading back out to the airport and retracing my route from earlier. Once I’d got there, and reverting to the vernacular again: “piece of piss”.

Well tomorrow is the “Great Alaskan Expedition” (I know I will be seeing only the elephant’s pimple) so I am getting my head down to be all refreshed for making a Grand Prix of myself in the morning.

Juneau – Anchorage

Today I head from the capital of, to the largest city in, Alaska. I am afraid I am increasing my carbon footprint to one encased in a boot because I am flying, but I want to get there inside a week!

I had got everything packed up and ready to go so I headed off for a last Heritage coffee and to order up a taxi to get me to the airport.

This duly arrived on time and I was at the airport in plenty of time to check in and have something to eat. I had a bit of a scare at the check in desk as my bag was overweight – one is only allowed 50 pounds as check in luggage although it can be spread over three bags. As there was no one else waiting to check in, and the woman on the check in desk was very kind, I kept removing things from it and stuffing them into my carry-on bag until I hit the magic 50 (spot on as well). When I proceeded to the security check this is when I had a problem. One of the things I had transferred was my washing bag, so my shaving foam and bottle of water were duly confiscated. No matter it saved me carrying them.

The flight left on time and took 90 minutes offering some stunning views of the mountain ranges we passed over. (I can’t remember the names of them without the aid of a map – so I pass that burden to you dear reader.)

To land at Anchorage International Airport the planes fly out over the sea, hang a big U turn and come in to the airport – that was quite impressive in itself. Anchorage seems to be a sending off and receiving point for quite a few US Military personnel. The sending off bit might all be a bit gung-ho but when the coming back with bits missing part comes around I suppose it is best to hide them all away “way up north” where it is quiet. I won’t relate the gut churning conversation I overheard in the Juneau departure lounge, but I will say I kept my mouth shut and didn’t vomit on anyone!

Having reclaimed my bag and not knowing where I was heading for – I had booked my hostel place, I just didn’t know where it was – I resorted to a taxi. This was most fortuitous as the taxi driver was telling me all the real places to go “hell, you don’t want to spend all your time in Anchorage, it’s just a city like any other.” Like others before him he recommended Seward and Homer and said it was a beautiful drive, if I was going to hire a car. I thought I would mull this over.

The hostel is a bit rough and ready but everyone in it is very friendly and I have a dorm to myself. Most of the people here are workers or in the process of getting work arranged. It is quite amazing to me just how much personal stuff people will tell you as the result of a question like; “what brings you to Anchorage or Alaska?” Even if it might be bullshit, one wouldn’t invent that sort of personal crap to spout at someone (a complete stranger) would they? I don’t know – but I am in America.

As I said, everyone is friendly and will chat. The first guy I met, Roger, came out and greeted me and immediately confiscated my bag in order to carry it into the hostel himself. I met Eric next who reminded me of Donald “Duck” Dunn from the Blues Brothers (well he is actually a renowned muso in his own right). I will have to ask him if he plays the bass. I also got to meet Jason the hostel owner who is also a nice bloke and basically tries to help out all his guests – travellers or otherwise.

Having got settled I then went to the local Wal-Mart. Now I know they are a large company and dabble in many things but this Wal-Mart one could park a jumbo jet in and turn it around (possibly two) – it was vast and contained everything from clothing to shot guns (yes, roll up folks get your 2 for 1 deals on firearms from your local Wal-Mart). They also do a nice range of bows & arrows – the hunting kind you could kill a child or adult or dear, ox or moose with. Since the recent school shootings they have very conscientiously stopped selling hand guns – can you feel the sarcasm and scorn dripping from these words? I have to confess to the typical Brit fascination with this display of weaponry and thought “well they do look nice and well made and obviously wouldn’t kill anyone on their own because that nice Mr. Heston says they don’t, it’s the people using them...” Don’t worry I am taking the piss because some of the people I have encountered here (watching shoppers in Wal-Mart was interesting and amusing) I would not trust with a pea shooter let alone any sort of firearm! This “wise and socially minded” move on Wal-Mart’s part has not made any difference to the state of affairs as I heard two more reports of school shootings on the news that day – one of them involving parents in a gun-fight - resulting in fatalities from the nasty humans misusing the nice guns! (Do I hear “hallelujah” for the NRA? Do I bollocks!)

Another word of warning UK residents: as we sell out to the great “US Dream” and embrace all the shit Hallmark and associates want to vomit on us – Halloween is coming! The tons of crap and junk one can/has to buy in relation to this is colossal. There is such a big hype leading up to the door to door begging season I felt quite sick (and still do as it hasn’t gone away yet). There are also loads of bollocks to be had with “Boss’s Day”, “Secretary’s Day”, “Pets Day” and a plethora of others I have purged from my mind. My only advice is don’t get involved with all this shit – it will only waste your money, create more rubbish for landfills and make some scum-bag corporation richer for having sold us a crock of shit and convinced us we should be happy and grateful to buy it. Beware! You have been warned!

Having walked round the hanger twice and replaced the items I lost to the TSA I then headed back to the hostel to dump off my purchases and get something to eat.

Suitably stuffed I returned to the hostel and had “a little lie down”. It was only 9:30 but I was knackered and full and it was very warm in my room. I fell asleep on my bed only to wake up at 4:00 am in order to get undressed and into bed. Then I went back to sleep again – like a Redwood log!

Juneau – Day 2

The day didn’t start particularly well when Greg, the guy on the reception desk, asked me if I caught the game yesterday. I know he was asking out of interest and was unaware of the pain I suffered in failing dismally to see it.

Well, as suspected Juneau was shut for the day! I toured around the points of interest listed on the “Historic Juneau” map. The only things I did get to see were the bits outside, i.e. statues and monuments. Closed buildings viewed from the outside:-
Federal Building, Governor’s House, House of Wickersham, St. Nicholas Orthodox Church, Scottish Rite Temple, Alaska State Capital, Juneau-Douglas City Museum, Alaska State Museum, State Office Building.

Having realised I could have seen some of these places if I hadn’t wasted my day yesterday only brought back some of the gloom and the steadily falling rain didn’t help. Everything was grey. The wind at times was particularly vicious and was instrumental in my abandoning ideas of doing one of the hiking trails. It started from out by the waterfront and after being struck about the head body and legs with flying debris – mostly wood – I decided “bugger this for a game of soldiers and found the Heritage Cafe was open. I treated myself to a mega latte and got stuck into some book reading.

I did venture into “The Hanger on the Bay” for lunch which afforded a wonderful view of the bay as it was whipped up into whitecaps by the wind. With the ebony brooding mountains in the background shrouded in shredded dark grey clouds, one would not have been surprised to see a sailing ship bearing Dracula’s coffin heave into view having been blown off course for Whitby. A few cawing crows and howling wolves would have finished the scene off perfectly.

One of the highlights of my day was meeting a couple of morons, oh sorry, Mormons on the street. Bearing in mind it was pissing down with rain – and they didn’t have a celestial umbrella with them – and I was wet and miserable, they didn’t pick the best time to try and save my already soggy and jaded soul. The idiots tried to tell me that some bloke named Jesus died for me to be saved. I refrained from telling them that the only people who died for me to be free were in a civil war and two world wars – the second being the most important. There may have been some people named Jesus involved but I never heard of them in the popular war stories. If they want some fictitious bloke to be their lord and master then fine, but don’t try and sell it to me. I actually said to them “If that is your delusion of choice then I respect that, but I don’t share it. Have a nice day.” They then asked me if there was anyone I knew they could talk to. As if I would inflict that sort of bullshit on anyone I knew and didn’t want to offend, let alone friends. I said “I haven’t a clue, I am only visiting here.” They asked where from and I told them the UK to which they replied “there are missionaries there you know.” Of course I know, I’ve had the bastards invade my space and privacy by ringing my door bell! I said “Yes, the UK is infested too.” In the hope they would go away without me being rude to them. “Well if you want to talk to any of us or need any questions answered, get in touch.” What is this? Are they on some sort of “celestial points scheme” or are they saving points on their “salvation clubcard” to get a free toaster? If these deranged people believe they have found “the answer”, and it is true, then it will come to everyone in time. Don’t try and peddle it to me.

After this I headed for the Heritage Cafe to indulge my sinful caffeine habit – but it was shut! I suppressed the urge to go and find them just to let them know that Jesus saved me from a coffee because being morons and Americans the irony would be lost on them unless it was in the form of a spear.

Having had an all-round depressing day of achieving nothing I went in search of food and the hostel.

I treated myself to a game of Supreme Commander where I could strategically and systematically destroy Mormons, lying bitches in sports bars and foul elements with the use of Heavy Artillery and Experimental Gunships. It was great fun and I won. As I was playing on a large map it took longer than I thought and it was midnight by the time I got to bed.
Never mind, I would be moving on tomorrow so there was something new to look forward to.

Juneau – Day 1

Bollocks! Bollocks! Bollocks! Bollocks! BOLLOCKS! Typical lying Yanks, you just can’t believe them can you? Whether it’s convincing your idiot suppository of a Prime Minister an illegal and immoral war is not, or whether it is lying to you about screening the Rugby World Cup Final, to me it is all the same! As one might have guessed I am very pissed off at the moment! I am also looking for the fastest way out of Juneau – it has become soured and I want to be somewhere else!

At the time of writing I still don’t know the outcome – that will come later.
I will try to moderate the invective and recount my day, although I can’t promise it might be in full force by the time I catch up with now! I feel cheated and annoyed! (I am also aware of the heavy use of exclamation marks!!)
I was out by 8:55 and headed for Heritage Coffee for the morning jump start and to make a list of postcard recipients. I promised everyone on my contacts list a postcard and decided I would do this from Alaska. It might not be from Juneau though.

Juneau is a quaint little city with some lovely buildings and some ugly ones. It also consists of the greatest concentration of jewellery shops I have ever seen. The taxi driver told me this on the way into town and I have witnessed it for myself. They are all shut now as it is closed season and there aren’t any idiot tourists flocking off the cruise ships to buy tons of the stuff. It is a bit weird because one end of the town is just shut down and all the windows empty. Some of the gift shops are still open but quite a few of them are also shut.

Anyway, getting back to the point. Having made my list and knowing how many postcards I require I went in search of them. I was sorely disappointed as they were 90% crap – unless one is amused by lame jokes about bear doo doo or some other equally pathetic cartoon rendition of some other item of wildlife. I was after some decent pictures of stunning scenery to send to people and failed dismally. I gave that up as a bad job and went in search of breakfast. This I found in a little cafe down near the water front. Having consumed that; I had a stroll to the bus stop in Main Street. After standing about for two minutes the bus was ready to depart so I got on and paid my $1.50 fare. This is a standard fare and good for the length of the bus’s route.

The journey to Nugget Mall (locally pronounced “mawl”) took about 30 minutes and took a lovely little detour to Lemon Creek where it turned around and came back again. Lemon Creek consists of a trailer park and what I took to be a correctional facility – I took it as such because there was a very high fence topped with copious quantities of razor wire and an observation tower poking over the top. Nugget Mall was obviously named after some allusion to the gold rush which swept the Klondike and Yukon and not for being a lump of gold. A pile of crap would be a better description but I suppose Crap Mall would not have the same appeal.

Popular Hollywood and sanitised TV deception would have us believe all American shopping malls are big, spacious, neat, clean, warehouses of copious quantities of shops selling everything we could possible want or dream of – well at least what moron-mags tell us we need and must have to be considered a proper human being. This is not true. The Nugget Mall is the turd hidden in the nugget - the nugget being the surrounding scenery. Beside and behind the Mall is an array of small penis vendors, i.e. Dodge, Ford, Chrysler & Lincoln big ugly overblown tin box sellers. The whole complex was dirty, rubbish strewn and generally depressing especially when it is surrounded by snow capped and tree covered mountains. It made me feel like looking for a Samaritans office – but I couldn’t find one. The only bright spot was the “Pet Show”. (It made me chuckle as the signs on all the doors read: No Skateboards, No Roller Skates, No Smoking and No Pets!)

I asked a couple heading in the door with a beautiful looking Great Dane bitch – her body came up to my waist – where I might find Marlintines – the “sports” bar. They gave me very good directions which took me straight to the place. Yippee I thought, found it in plenty of time. Imagine my chagrin when I found the door locked and the sign which said they didn’t open until 16:00 (well it said 4:00 because I think most people around here would have trouble with the 24 hour clock).

Bastards! It will all be over by then! I realised I should have asked if they were showing it live – although as the rest of the world doesn’t exist there are no such things as time differences! I tried telephoning the place only to receive a recorded message about some other blood sport show they were screening; boxing or wrestling or game shooting or live televised murder – I can’t remember which. I found a Yellow Pages and depleted my pile of quarters ringing some other bars in Juneau in the vain hope of seeing some real sport as opposed to the commercially dictated nancy-boy excuses for competition they show here.

[An observation: I have seen little TV on this trip – even when provided with a part-wall sized TV in some of the hotels I stayed in – the inclination to even switch one on does not occur to me. A sports channel was playing in the pub where I had my meal last night and my only conclusion from that is: all the viewers suffer from Attention Deficit Disorder. Couple that with the wonderful success one can achieve as a TV editor and producer if one suffers from epilepsy – then you have American sports TV in a nutshell (case more like – thank you again Basil Fawlty). Interrupt this with nauseating adverts about how Ford can reduce your penis size if you buy one of their eight litre four wheel drive all terrain masturbation motors, that just about rounds it up in my opinion.]

The upshot was I wasted four hours of my life wandering around a couple of depressing malls waiting for this Marlintines place to open.

Eventually it did and I headed into the dingy dive – it was – but I didn’t care if they were going to provide what I wanted, some proper sport which didn’t stop – or rather got stopped – for a commercial break every ten minutes. (In case one didn’t know: Yes they do stop what are supposed to be competitive games of sport (games for children) for commercial breaks! That is how four twelve minute quarters of “football” (shite) actually last three hours if one is stupid enough to attend and pay to see it. Why? The only thing to do to keep oneself occupied is eat. Not surprising they are a bunch of lard-arses.

[Diversion: Whilst I was wasting my life I decided to eat something – mainly because I was hungry – and whilst doing so I became fascinated by the waitress who served me. She was a fat ugly biffa whose gut was so huge that her belly button (gaping depression) looked like a mouth chewing when she waddled about – I do not exaggerate. Fortunately the uniform (tent) she was wearing was opaque – although the depression was clearly visible – otherwise I would have embarrassed myself completely. Yes, I consider vomiting in public an embarrassment.]

I know, I am ranting again, I will be again soon.

I was greeted by some redneck behind the bar (I assume one can still get a red neck from frostbite) who asked me what he could get me. “The Rugby World Cup Final” I replied, to which he asked “Is that football or baseball?” The word “fuckwit” jumped into my brain in big angry red letters, pulsing menacingly. I controlled the motor response to blurt this at him and explained in my “best behaved” voice that I was told last night they would be showing the RWC Final and, as it had already happened, when would they be re-running it? This is a proper WORLD Cup, that is: it is contested by countries from all over the world – different ones – not some stupid shitty “World Series” which is only contested by Yanks playing an idiot version of rounders! He had a problem understanding the word “rugby” and I elucidated a little not wishing to confuse the retard. The upshot was they had no “rugby” coverage there mainly because they didn’t know what it was let alone how or when it was televised. I could sense this was a disaster and came to the conclusion that these people, if confronted with anything approaching culture, would rapidly throw a bear skin over it and shoot the shit out of it with armour piercing bullets. I should have realised this when Ryan told me that during his interview he was asked if he hunted or fished. The reduction of wildlife is not a sport or a pastime, “it’s a goddam god given right!” At times it is a little like being in Norfolk with mountains.

By this time I was feeling depressed, dejected, cheated, frustrated and near to tears – my hopes and expectations dashed and shattered like a porcupine’s skull under the wheels of a fuck-off 16. I turned to go not wishing to display the obvious disappointment I was feeling. “Don’t you want a beer before you go?” asked Mr. Candidate-for-Homicide-in-the-First-Degree. “I most certainly do not!” I replied in my best On Her Majesty’s Command real English loaded with enough scorn to dissolve a Fort Knox door (thank you Mother) and walked out.

Feeling as gutted as the Timber Wolf and Brown Bear exhibits they had in glass cases in the Nugget Mall I headed back to the bus stop. Might as well piss off back to Juneau and pour out my venom via the keyboard. Which reminds me; I must stop hitting these keys so hard. If I broke my laptop that would cap it all off.

I got the bus and two stops in an Inuit guy got on and sat two seats from me. I will be kind and pretend he was being sent home following an industrial accident. He works at the local distillery and whilst undertaking some vital and dangerous maintenance operation fell horribly and awkwardly into one of the vats. Obviously traumatised they found some old grubby clothes to put him in and sent him home with full pay. The guys took up a collection to get his bus fare home.

O why did I ever leave Canada – where they have heard of rugby – and maybe England isn’t such the rip-off place I remember it to be. I had a little longing for civilisation.

[Another observation: How good are the levels of literacy in the US? The reason I ask is that Americans seem to have some need to read any signs, labels or titles out loud. Why is this? I know they are all fond of their own voices and have two volume settings: “Off” – occasionally, and, “Loud” – nearly all the time. Is this a throwback to some school teaching method, or does the mouth just automatically engage? (I favour the latter.) It is most odd as I have witnessed them doing it on their own and to each other in couples and groups. Perhaps I have just witnessed a high degree of partially sighted people being taken on trips by one sighted person. I don’t know. I wonder if there is any empirical study on this handicap.]

I got off the bus in Main Street and consoled myself with a Heritage Coffee whilst walking back to the hostel. As soon as I got back I started writing this up and now I will console myself with the wonderful booby prize of: a stick with a bit of shit on both ends! I will consult the Internet to find out the result of RWC 2007 knowing there is no way I can get to see the match without knowing the outcome. Even if I wait the 24 hours required for contractual reasons and download it from the RWC site, the first thing I will see when I hit the site is “England retain title” or “Springboks regain title” and the surprise/joy/elation/disappointment/dejection will be instantly delivered and destroyed. I just hope Charlie got to watch it all in Jasper – he would have had more chance as they know how to sit the right way on a lavatory and that it is wrong to marry and breed with your daughter. Hope you enjoyed it Charlie. I tried & failed miserably in Buttfuck Alaska.
More later...perhaps.

Well, I have booked my way out of here. On Monday I fly to Anchorage. At least they have roads and railways out of there and I should be able to get up to Fairbanks and see the Northern Lights. I have also booked a few nights in a hostel so I will have a place to stay. I couldn’t get connected to the Internet via the wireless network in the hostel because they have had their carpets cleaned and have fans going all over the lounge. The wireless network kept losing its network ID and my laptop couldn’t connect to it due to poor signal – so I was saved the temptation of finding out (one shouldn’t need to ask) as I had to use the PC in the lounge to book everything. I was going to travel by ferry again but the next ferry to anywhere wasn’t until the 4th of November – too long – and trying to fly anywhere nearer, like Cordova or Valdez (which has roads out of it) took me via Anchorage anyway – so that is where I’m going.

I did quickly check my emails to get the confirmations of my flight and hostel booking – all ok – and my Dad had sent me an email with an attachment on it. The picture was the Nike poster showing the England rugby squad standing on the cliffs of Dover with the strap line of “Not without a fight!” and it brought all my disappointment back to me. No problem Dad, it isn’t your fault I know the intention was good... more than could be said for the lying bitch in Marlintines. I still resisted the temptation to look, so the surprise, whatever the outcome was, is still there. I just don’t know what to do with it. I will ponder.

I am going to go to bed now and tomorrow I will see what bits of Juneau are still open for me to look at and visit, at least they can’t shut the scenery!

Prince Rupert – Juneau

As I have said before: travelling is a transitory thing and so things, and people, move on. It was still with a tinge of sadness that I said farewell to Roland, Travis, Jessica and Will. The hostel had a good vibe to it and these people had only enhanced it – plus Charlie, who had left a message on the notice board reading: “Thank you all for a memorable stay. May the force be with you... always!”

I got up within two howls of the alarm and silenced it before it disturbed anyone else too much. When I returned from the shower all the other beds were empty, so I got my bags down the stairs – in two runs – and then found Roland & Ryan getting stuck in to their own breakfasts. I joined them by depleting more of my stock of Frosties (Kellogs ones – not Scumbag Nestle) but still left enough for Jessie – and some milk to go with them. I brewed up the last of the coffee, and recycled the tin, which provided just enough for Ryan, Jessie & I. Travis, Roland and Jessie were due to set about demolishing the walkway down one side of the hostel. Travis & Jessie had previously dug out some very big holes for posts to support a new decking walkway which would be much wider. This was in arrangement with Christy for rent reduction and Travis, a carpenter by trade, had completed some drawings for the new deck walkway. I thought it would look most impressive when finished. I might even have to go back and see the completed article one day.

Whilst they were attacking this; Ryan very kindly repacked half his car in order to accommodate my bag. He had cleared the front seat the previous evening having offered me a lift – nice bloke. I said if it was too much hassle I would be happy to take a taxi as I would have had to do this if he hadn’t arrived. “It will fit.” He asserted – and it did. Having said our final goodbyes with handshakes, hugs and back slaps, we set off for the ferry terminal.

We arrived in plenty of time as the ferry was delayed in its arrival and wasn’t due to dock until 11:00.

I purchased my ticket and completed all the paperwork commensurate with entering the United States of Paranoia.

Having waited an hour the ferry arrived and started disgorging vehicles & people. Ryan had already driven through the customs check area and I went and waited dutifully with the rest of the foot passengers to be called through.

The immigration process was most strange as the Customs guy seemed more interested in what I did for a job and what it entailed than anything else – rather odd as I had ticked the “No” box for the question of whether I had ever been involved in espionage before. Perhaps I just had that James Bond English reserve look about me. (Feel free to wet yourself laughing at that – I nearly did.) I didn’t make the mistake of saying I was redundant again – I did when I entered Canada and that got me a whole bunch of grief explaining what that was – but just played on “my last employment”. This was quite embarrassing as they wanted to know the name and telephone number of my company and wanted to know if I had any company ID on me. What the fuck for if I was there for pleasure? I refrained from treating him to one of Mother’s own disdainful looks and just played along. If there was some weird psychology or reverse-psychology behind this line of questioning it was totally lost on me. Anyway the upshot was I got my passport stamped and I was admitted to the USA – God Help America!

I boarded the ferry and found my way to a lounge where I could dump my bags and go and explore. I met Ryan on the aft deck and we stood and watched the ferry leave the dock. We were now on the Alaska Marine Highway.

We wandered around the ship to get familiar with its layout and then had something to eat in the canteen. Burger & fries (remember chips are crisps here) was the least offensive of the choices so you see how good it was. Whilst standing up on the Solarium Deck (a covered area which is actually heated – not very energy efficient!) I saw some water spouts off to starboard. After seeing these a few more times I decided I was no hallucinating and pointed them out to Ryan. He saw them and agreed they were probably whale spouts. There were about six or seven of them and they were moving, but nothing broke the surface more than a vague hump, so they could have been whales or dolphin. Not long after this we ran into some turbulence and the good ol’ ship was rockin’ & rollin’ in a rather hefty swell. Poor old Ryan went very pale and didn’t look very well. I convinced him if he could go to sleep he would feel better, either that or stay out on deck in the fresh air. He opted for sleep and achieved it and when he woke up he had his colour back and felt a lot better.

Our first stop was in Ketchikan and we had about 90 minutes so we decided to get off and have something to eat. As a security measure Ryan offered his trusty Honda to lock my bags in whilst we disembarked, an offer I took him up on straightaway with thanks. We selected a restaurant/diner which was part of “The Landing” hotel – perhaps not that imaginative in names but very apt – as it was literally just across the road from the terminal. As Ryan had left his watch back in Michigan it was down to me for timekeeping. I told Ryan; “no problem, I will tell you the time every five minutes.” He said: “that’s good because I will probably ask you every three minutes.” We had a chuckle at that as we had both been rather anal about our tickets, which pocket they were in and not losing them!
We settled in and had a beer and a damn good meal which Ryan paid for courtesy of the Wrangell newspaper he will be working for. I did offer him money as I have some of the monopoly stuff which passes for US currency. Actually that is an insult to monopoly money because at least the notes are different colours. Dollars are all the same size, shape and colour and really helpfully for partially sighted people I’m sure. (As I trust there will be a mainly British audience for this I am sure I don’t have to explain the irony in that. If any Americans are reading this; that was called “irony” and it might be in one of your dictionaries.) The upshot of this was Ryan refused any money as he has an expense allowance and intends to use it. I thanked him again.
Having returned to the ferry before it sailed - we could see it from the table we were sitting at and both expressed the disaster it would be if it sailed off without us taking all our worldly belongings with it – we settled down for a lovely sleep feeling full and contented.

I woke up in the early hours and decided to visit the observation lounge. Wow, I have never seen The Plough, or Big Dipper, so low in the sky and literally dead ahead – no wonder they adopted it as the Alaska flag. Likewise Orion was so low on the mountains it looked like he was having a lie down. It was very interesting to see some familiar constellations seemingly much closer (I know they aren’t) and definitely lower in the night sky. Having seen enough to be very tired again I went back to my seat, comfortably reclined, and went back to sleep.

I woke up about 10:30 and decided to listen to some sounds whilst Ryan slept peacefully on. The wonderful Sennheisers came into their own again, drowning out all the air conditioning and engine rumbling noise leaving unpolluted sound to be enjoyed.

Ryan woke up about 11:00 and we went up on deck for a smoke and watched a rash of lights appear in the distance. “That could be your new home.” I said as it coalesced into a small town’s worth of lights. There were mist patches clinging to the sea in clumps which looked quite eerie. I asked Ryan if he had read “The Fog” and he hadn’t so I said no more. It was also weird the way the mist clung around the rock with the lighthouse on top so the light shone out through the mist making it all look quite surreal.

The clump of lights was Wrangell and we docked at midnight. After we had watched the crew tie the boat up; a very slick and well executed process, it was time to say goodbye to Ryan. I wished him well for his writing, publishing and journalism and hoped he liked his new home. He wished me well for my travels and living. Being the sentimental sod I am I watched his Honda clear the vehicle ramp and gave it a wave just in case he was looking. I then had 45 minutes to wait before the ferry set off again for our next destination – Petersburg. We should get there approximately 4:30am.

In the meantime I have written this up so far and will probably be asleep when we get there.

I did wake up when we got to Petersburg and got up to have a wander round the deck and survey the town in darkness – well the ferry terminal was lit up. I couldn’t honestly say I saw anything of Petersburg, so I went back to sleep.
I awoke as day was dawning and went to watch it get brighter. Like Cowardly Sir Robin I turned my tail and fled to the observation lounge as the wind on deck had nasty vicious long teeth that bit anything exposed – one of the first things I will do in Juneau is get some gloves!

I saw the pod of Humpbacks before the announcement was made over the PA. I did venture out on deck for this and, hopefully, got some pictures that might be worth saving. Remember these are real wild whales not the poor trained things doing tricks for sad humans who pay for such dubious pleasures, so they weren’t “putting on a show” for my camera, or my benefit. There were a good eight to a dozen in the pod and they were all breaching and blowing with abandon. (I don’t know if whales are gay, so I hesitate to use the word.) My hands took a good ten minutes to warm up again after returning to the observation lounge, and then I went back to my corner in the recliner lounge and fell asleep again.

I woke at 11:45 and decided I would not “drop off” again as we were scheduled to dock in Juneau at 13:15. I rechecked my bags making sure everything was packed and I hadn’t forgotten anything. I then went back to the observation lounge and noticed buildings on the shore line. This indeed was Juneau – well the ferry terminal anyway! We docked at 13:00 and I disembarked – no I bloody well didn’t “deship” – and headed for the terminal. I am assuming that all the terminals on the AMH (Alaska Marine Highway) are all the same, i.e. the block built equivalent of a shack with bugger all in them but a ticket desk, some seats and some telephones. As Juneau is Alaska’s capital this was obviously a deluxe one as it had a tourist information desk – unmanned and consisting of some bus schedules. I have to say this is the worst serviced terminal I have encountered so far. There is no shuttle bus service to downtown, the nearest bus stop is 1.75 miles away (“turn right out of the parking lot and up the hill”) and the “share a taxi” stand, which I stood at for twenty minutes, had no one to share it with. As a result a taxi driver who had dropped off his fare saw me waiting and asked if I needed a ride. As I was cold and 15 miles away from downtown Juneau I bit the bullet and said “yes”. The taxi driver was a nice friendly guy and pointed out all the beauty spots and points of interest on the way into town – which took twenty minutes. He also took me past a camping and hiking shop pointing it out specifically as I had asked him where I might get some gloves. He took me to the hostel (which is shut between 9am and 5pm) and hailed a woman who was going in the door with a small child to see if there was anywhere I could stash my bags as I certainly didn’t want to carry them about with me – not when you see the steepness of the hills (mountainsides) that residential Juneau is built on. The commercial places are all on the flat but down by the water.
The cabbie was obviously a good bloke because he only asked me for $30 when the meter showed $33.80. Having stashed my big bag in the storage room round the back of the hostel I set off back into town. I located the camping shop and duly bought myself a pair of gloves and a windproof hat. The good old Southend United woolly hat is great under my hood but it is not windproof and when that icy wind got going it was like having a scalp massage with a sack of sewing needles.

I covered most of downtown Juneau and the old quarter during the afternoon. The residential parts, and there are some stunning houses with what must be amazing views ranged up the mountainside – see the picture taken from outside the hostel.

The other part of Juneau sprawls around the mountain, as in the other side of it, and is about 5Km away from the downtown area.
As I was beginning to wend my way back to the hostel in time for it’s opening I sought out a coffee place, and found one – Heritage Coffee. This has to come a close second to Serious Coffee, it was beautiful – I had two.

I got to the hostel with fifteen minutes to wait, so I did. As I was waiting a lovely looking young lady appeared and tried to get in. I told her it didn’t open until 17:00 and she asked what it was like. All I coul tell her was what I had gleaned from the Internet and the feedback to their site – which was very complimentary. Her name was Jamie and she originates from Ohio but had been living in Seattle for the last four years. We chatted about a few things and had a laugh and then the hostel opened up so we went in. Jamie was staying with a mate of hers and her lover and was suffering from “three’s a crowd” syndrome so she was just checking out places to run away to, so she might be back. I booked in and first off set about getting a shave and a shower to remove two days worth of grime form sitting on a ferry. I felt much better afterwards.

The next thing I had to do was sort out the important thing – the Rugby World Cup Final.

I had a word with the guy on reception, Greg, who was most helpful, and he gave me the number of a sports bar which may be screening it. I rang them from the telephone in the lounge – free local calls – and got confirmation that they are! “Thank you, I will see you tomorrow.”

The only thing left after this was food. I found a lovely pub downtown and had their surf & turf, which consisted of elk and “shrimps”. That is what the waitress told me. The elk was lovely, a very strong dark meat along the lines of venison, but the “shrimps” were baby lobsters! I could not get a whole one in my mouth, they were two bites big!
After finishing this I had a nice calorie burning climb back to the hostel, which certainly kept me warm as there was no cloud, the moon looked like it had been placed in the sky by a celestial set designer and the air had that sharp cold smell (and feel) like I have not experienced in a UK “winter” for a long long time. It gets mighty cold in them there mountains.

My laundry was dry and waiting for me in the tumble dryer so I unloaded it and sorted it out it in neat piles on one of the unused beds as I have a dorm room to myself. There is one other Japanese guy staying here and he has one too.

I am getting this updated and will post it as they have wireless Internet access – yippee.

I am then going to get an early night so I can have a solid, comfortable, horizontal sleep. I also want to be refreshed and awake for England’s triumphant retention of the William Webb Ellis Trophy!
Happy dreams.

Prince Rupert – Day 5

Today started late – well certainly later than I intended – as I didn’t wake up until 10:00. I will set my alarm clock for tomorrow as this would be a small disaster.

I had breakfast and then caught up on the blog entries. As I had bought a new phone card I thought I would use it, and as it wasn’t too late in the day in the UK I rang my Mother. Caught up on all the news from home and then thought I would give it a while and ‘phone my brother.

I sorted my bags out and double checked that I hadn’t left anything out. Updated a bit more of the blog and then rang Pete. Had a chat with Sol, Tracey and then Pete. Many apologies mate, my ‘phone card ran out as you were telling me about the boiler – I will ring again when I get to Alaska and get another ‘phone card. (At least I got the full use of the ‘phone card though!)

Had a wander down to Safeways and stocked up on some chocolate, peanuts & crisps for the ferry journey – high protein & energy stuff as I guessed the cafeteria would be much the same as the BC Ferry I arrived on.

After getting back I made some coffee and the latest visitor arrived at the hostel – a guy from Michigan named Ryan. I stashed all my “ferry goodies” in my small rucksack and got everything ready for the next day, including the alarm clock set for 7:30. My intention was to get all showered and clean before turning in for the night so I could get away with breakfast & tooth cleaning in the morning and be ready to go. Plans can fall flat as one will see.

I went down to the kitchen to cook up my stir fry. Jessica was sitting about in the lounge and speculating on what would happen to my Frosties when I left. I happily said she could scavenge any of my foodstuffs, which she seemed quite pleased about. Roland and a German guy (apologies, I didn’t get his name) were going off to play volleyball so I kept out of the way until they had finished in the kitchen – then I had the place to myself. (Anyone who knows me & kitchens will be aware that I like total run and control of it! It has been a little difficult getting used to a shared kitchen and not practicing one’s filleting techniques on “invaders”!) While I was getting my stir fry prepared Ryan came to stand in the doorway and chat. (Good man, he kept out of the way.) Ryan is a writer from Michigan who is travelling to Wrangell to be a journalist with the local paper. He is going for two years and driving up in his car so during the course of our conversation he asked if I wanted a ride to the Ferry Terminal. “Thanks” I said – I was fully prepared to book a taxi but a bit of company wouldn’t hurt. Ryan is one of those walking contradictions – a sensible American. He wanted to get away from Michigan and try “somewhere real” along with finish his latest book. This was his fourth and he hasn’t had anything published yet, but as he said himself: “I don’t think they are good enough yet.” I just congratulated him on doing something he wanted to do and going for it. There are many people who have the dream but don’t even try to live it – and yes I am one to talk because I am and loving every minute of it. The places I have seen and the people I have met so far have made it worth it.

Ryan asked if I drank wine, “why yes” I replied whilst cooking up my dinner. He disappeared for five minutes and came back with a bottle of local Michigan red wine – and very nice it was too. By this time I was eating my dinner and sipping some lovely wine when Jessica joined us. Another glass was poured. Christy appeared – she had passed her exam “congratulations” – and had a very small glass of wine as she was off to play hockey – as in ice hockey. As the bottle was empty by then Ryan asked if we wanted any more. The general consensus was “yes” so off he went to his car and came back with another bottle of very fine Michigan red. This was a different wine but very drinkable. Jessica, being two parts minx, ensured glasses were topped up. (She was the young lady who fully endorsed my “Breeding Licence Plan” – good girl. She originates from Whitehorse in the Yukon but has done a lot of travelling too. The poor thing ended up staying in Forest Gate when she went to London because the hostels in Central London wanted £100 per night! I do agree with everyone who says London is expensive and let them know it is not called “rip off Britain” for nothing!)
Travis joined us a bit later and Roland and the German returned from sports activities. It turned out they had played badminton instead of volleyball but had enjoyed themselves nonetheless.
We had all decided to reconvene on the front porch for a communal smoke (I told you it was sociable) when Will and his girlfriend arrived. I feel awful because I cannot remember her name but I saw her as I was walking down the road earlier and thought “I recognise that lady – but I can’t remember where from.” Anyway Will joined us and we all huddled out of the rain chatting & smoking. My plans of getting all cleaned up ready to go straight off in the morning turned to vapour and blew away. We all shuffled back in shaking off wet jackets and someone made coffee. As things progressed people drifted off to bed leaving Will & I sitting in the lounge area chatting about our travels, plans and hopes. Will is from Manchester and a plumber by trade. He had been travelling in Australia and then up through America before travelling back across Canada to spend some time checking out the east coast before returning to the UK. His intention is to work enough to save some money and then take off for the Far East. He is a firm believer in travel broadening the mind and thought what I was doing was brilliant. As this is another tick in the “Good Move” column I get the impression I am not doing something terribly wrong.
We chatted about all sorts of things and found we had similar outlooks and philosophies on the world. Having put the world to rights we decided to turn in for the night as it was now 2:00.

I very quietly packed up my laptop, which I had left out and switched on with the intention of updating and posting this. As neither Roland nor Ryan woke up and gave me abuse, I think I got away with it.

Ensuring that the alarm was set I crawled into bed for a few hours sleep.

Prince Rupert – Day 4

Last part of Day 3: I was just having my after dinner smoke when Charlie came out to join me. We started talking about the rugby and I asked if he wanted to watch the England-France game. He had seen it in Jasper whilst he was there but said he would love to see it again, so we retired to the dorm and settled down to watch. Charlie produced a bottle of red wine so we got some glasses and relived the glorious result. There were a few more people in the dorm tonight but I don’t think we disturbed them until the match finished by which time we were punching the air and enthusing on the possibility of retaining the Webb Ellis trophy. The game was not pretty but, as Sir Clive said four years earlier: “We are not here to play pretty rugby; we are here to win the World Cup.” The performance was just what was required to frustrate the French and make them kick away any possession they had and the English pack were immense. I will consider murder on any scale necessary to see the final live. I will be in Juneau then so there must be at least one pub with satellite TV. Following this we retired for the night with Charlie issuing profuse thanks for the invite to watch. I was only too pleased to have met another rugby fan.

Day 4 started bright and cheerful. I had plans (loose, as all my plans are) to visit the museum today. As I was finishing my breakfast Charlie asked if I wanted to join him on the Butze trail. “Yeah, sounds good” I replied. The museum will still be there tomorrow – I’ll go then.

We took a taxi to the trail as it was about 5Km outside Prince Rupert. The trail was very well done nad had a path all the way round it, a lot of work had gone into making it and there were information boards along it giving details on all sorts of thing from wildlife present in the area and plant and tree species. As it crossed several areas of swamp we were grateful for the path. We got to the Butze lookout. The Butze Rapids was named after a Mr. Butze (no surprises there, I’m sure) but I can’t remember what he was famous for because I have slept after reading the info. Anyhow, the Butze Rapids is one of the “weird phenomenons” which comes about from the sea filling a flood bowl at high tide – whilst the bowl is trying to empty itself naturally – and then the reverse happening at low tide causing the rapids to reverse direction. In addition to this because the unequal flow rates there can be a 2-3 metre difference in the flow levels giving a stepped effect to the water. Although our timing wasn’t perfect to see the full effect we did see this effect in small scale. Being “wild intrepid British explorers” we had to venture down to the water’s edge from the safety of the lookout. We descended the steep slope and gained the water’s edge (good job my Mother couldn’t see me) and it was worth the effort as when one was standing right next to the water one could appreciate just how fast – and what huge volume – the water was flowing past. Also from our vantage point one could look into the flood bowl which appeared just like a freshwater lake: still, calm and tranquil. However, if one looked at the banks it became quite apparent at how much the water level changes between high and low tides.
Having regained the lookout we proceeded along the trail pausing to admire things along the way. A pair of herons swimming about together and then diving under the water, for seemingly a very long time, was one of them. We didn’t rush around the trail but we managed to complete it in about three and a half hours.

When we got back to the start point we were beginning to wonder how we would get back to downtown Prince Rupert – walking & hitching was looking favourite. Two ladies who had passed us on the trail were just coming back to the start area and we said “Hi” again – they had been round twice! They asked us where we were from – one of them thought Australia – and we chatted for a while. Charlie, being very forward for an Englishman, asked if either of them were heading back into Prince Rupert and could we get a lift. “Sure” said one, her name was Sheila and her & her friend do the trail every day (two laps) as she is in training for a half-marathon later in November. I thought this was very good training as the trail had some rather steep gradients on it and any marathon, or half-marathon, would be on a flat surface. Sheila very kindly dropped us right outside the hostel and wished us a nice day, to which we reciprocated and thanked her very much.

As I was rather hungry by this time I thought it a good idea to create a bacon sandwich – so I did. This seemed to trigger hunger responses from the few people about, mainly Travis & Jessica – Charlie set about shopping for some pie crusts in order to make a pie. After creating sandwiches I was chatting to Jessica, a local girl who had done a lot of travelling and hitched up with Travis in Juneau. He is an Alaskan (preferred thinking to being American) who was born & raised in Juneau. He offered to give me some notes for things to do & see in Juneau, for which I was very grateful. Jessica set about speculating on what I could do with the bacon fat left over and came up with “bacon candles” (well people pay small fortunes for scented candles) which would be torture to vegetarians! (She has quite a wicked sense of humour.) I made some coffee and we sat about chatting for a while. Charlie returned with pie crusts and set about making a cheese, onion & spinach pie. It was a good fun social gathering with much humour and merriment. Whilst all this was going on Christy returned (easy name to remember). She is the proprietor of the hostel and had sat an electrician’s exam today. (She and a bunch of her classmates were sitting around the table last night doing some swatting up.) I asked her how she felt she had done and she replied “quietly confident, I think I did alright”. After a bit more chatting & laughing I decided to get showered & changed as I felt a bit grubby after our little hike. Having done this Charlie offered me some pie – which I gratefully accepted – it was bloody lovely – and then asked if anyone fancied a beer. He is off tomorrow to get the train to Jasper, do a bit of skiing there and then hitch his way down route 101 to Mexico. He will be in Jasper for the Rugby World Cup Final – and will not miss it!

There were few takers for his offer so it was Charlie, myself and Roland who set off for the Crest Hotel bar. Roland is a young Dutch guy from Utrecht who is on the WWOOF scheme for Canada and the US. WWOOF is World-Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms and is something I will consider when I get into mainland USA. I won’t bore everyone with the details; just check www.wwoof.org for an overview on what the organisation does.

We had a great time just sitting (in some very comfortable bar stools) chatting & drinking. One of the hotel guys came over to chat to us as he heard our accents. He explained how the hotel started as a small guesthouse and then got extended, several times, into what it was today. The guy who started it was a Scotsman, which explained the scattering of various clan crests & tartans around the place.

We headed back to the hostel and decided we were hungry so I set about warming up some soup I had got and Charlie produced a big bowl of a similar concoction which he and Roland shared. We all finished with bananas supplied by Roland and then cleared up. Having washed & wiped up and put everything away – a superb team effort – we trundled up to the dorm. As we were the only occupants we set about exchanging email addresses and outlining plans for the future. I said farewell to Charlie as he was getting up at 6:00, in order to get himself sorted out and off by 8:00 in order to get his train at 8:30, and I probably wouldn’t be awake by then.

We all settled down to a good night’s sleep at the end of a very enjoyable day. It is days like this that make one feel good about the world and one’s fellow human beings. It also proves my belief that people are fundamentally good and bad people are the exception.

Prince Rupert – Day 3

Guess what? It has stopped raining – for the moment.

Having contacted Alaska Ferries I now know I will be here until Thursday – which is when the next ferry sails! Apparently, as a foot passenger, I can just turn up on the day, pay for the ticket and walk on – “there is plenty of space” the guy told me. So armed with that and as the sun is shining I booked a few more nights here – the hostel is very clean and quiet – and then went shopping!

The hostel is good, warm, dry, clean and virtually empty. The handy thing for visiting in the low season; one might have to put up with some crap weather but there are fewer people. A guy named Charlie came and introduced himself to me yesterday – he is the only other occupant of the dorm at present, so we basically have a room each (the way the dorm is sub-divided) – another Brit originating from Oxford and he very kindly lent me his Safeway’s Clubcard for when I went shopping. This works like the usual loyalty card but everything Safeway’s brand in the store is at a “club discount” price so it saved me $3. Shopping here, I mean supermarket shopping, was quite an amazing experience. The choice is huge, but so are the pack sizes – no wonder the Canucks & Yanks are the size of the average Blue Whale! It would have been easier if I was planning to feed a family of six for a week but I had a struggle in getting little enough to feed me for three days! At least I can leave the surplus behind for any following hostel guests. Which reminds me I have a litre of soup and half a loaf of bread to eat soon (small exaggeration). I was also bewildered by the amount of different flavoured things one has a choice of – one can certainly get maple flavoured anything here - probably condoms & sanitary wear too! It did just make me slightly miss my old local butcher & baker.

Anyway, having returned to the hostel & stashed all my stuff I was chatting to a young Canadian girl in the kitchen while she was getting some lunch for her & her boyfriend. We were talking about the weather and climate change, etc. when the subject of children & parental mis-managing of them came up. I postulated my theory of birth control formed whilst I was working in Basildon and witnessed many a “Basildon bus” (fat dog like female pierced & tattooed in the prescribed Essex way pushing a multi-brat buggy surrounded by several unwashed Chardinay, Wayne, Ryan and Kylie’s smoking the proverbial fag and “lookin’ after ‘ver kids” by a combination of physical violence and verbal abuse centring on Anglo Saxon) passing through the “delightful town square”. This theory (which is mine and belongs to me) is that everyone should be sterilised at birth and then have to apply for a “Licence to Breed”. Yes, I know the theory falls flat on its face and breaks its nose because one only has to ask the question “Who would grant these licences?” As soon as the answer “the authorities” is given it dies in agonised screams on the floor. By “authorities” if one takes this to be “the government” imagine what would have happened if that blinkered brainwashed catholic idiot suppository Blair had been in charge of that! Worse still what if the evil bitch Thatcher had held those strings! The whole thing makes me shudder. Back to the point; instead of throwing the contents of her frying pan over me and calling me an evil Nazi, this young lady agreed! We then entered an earnest conversation about the standard of parental care offered by Bastard Murdoch and his evil empire via Nickelodeon and other such “conditioning tools”. This lifted my heart as it appears youngsters are fully capable of proper cynicism without having to attend the “Phil’s Montessori Academy for Cynics, Sad Bastards & Old Gits”. Perhaps there might be something in this deity thing after all.

Having left “the youngsters” to eat I went off to check my emails & write up the latest invective offering.

Lo and behold my faith in human nature was restored and I can forget all this deity crap again. I had received an email from Massa. This really cheered me up as it was good to hear from him. He is currently in Homer, Alaska working on a farm. He said “Northern Light you must watch” [Remember: one can only take the piss if your second, or more, language is Japanese and you can write it as well as speak it! OK?] Wow, I have always wanted to see the Northern Lights and even travelled to the very north of Scotland in an effort to do so – I failed dismally but it was a lovely part of the world. I replied to say I was heading for Juneau on Thursday – I arrive on Friday as the ferry takes 30 hours (yes that is thirty) – and if I can’t see them from there I will head for Homer. (Yes all the Simpson jokes ran through my head but I didn’t type them out – Doh!)

My general plan for Alaska is to head for Anchorage and then fly to, possibly, New York. I would like to get up inside the Arctic Circle, if nothing else just to experience it, but I am conscious of the time running away from me and the size of the area one has to cross. It is nice trying to do things semi-ecologically by taking ferries, trains & busses but the problem is the distance to time ratio. Remember that a seven or eight hour drive in the UK (“didn’t you do well travelling that far”) translates into a three day (or more) road trip here. It can take three to four days to cross Ontario by road (depending on how mad one goes and how many stops one makes) and BC is about twice as big. As I have said before this is a HUGE country.

Anyhow, I asked Massa how his trip to Thunder Bay went and how he was enjoying Alaska. I also said if I get to Homer I will find him and say “hello”. We shall see. I am going to book some hostel accommodation in Juneau now so at least I will know where I’m heading for and I will have an address to put down for admittance into the USP.

Tomorrow I will visit the museum here and try and broaden my culture. Being this far north it is the heart of First Nations country and the museum has a wide representation of their culture. Another thing as well, there are totem poles dotted about all over Prince Rupert and apparently they all have some significance.

Prince Rupert in itself is a typical port city. It is a seasonal tourist place, much like Blackpool & Southend, but without the tower and vomit, and I am seeing it out of season. Perhaps it is because of this, or perhaps it is because it has been overcast & raining – except for today – that it looks worn & tired (a bit like me I suppose) and a little shabby. As I say, it is a typical tourist port city and I am not bashing Prince Rupert, as I have certainly seen worn & shabby parts of Southend, but I suppose it is because no “waterfront developments” are going on, unlike in Nanaimo and Vancouver, which causes the local council to “spruce everything up a bit” so the new development/s will fit in better and not look so new and developed.

The other problem it has is with the surroundings. These are just wonderful tree covered hills – big ones – which look “soft & fluffy” from the distance because they are tree covered. I am sure that if the trees were stripped away the place would look more like the Rockies with just the exposed raw rock to give it that jagged and hard look. I will take a few photos and may even post some here to give an idea of what I am trying to say. It is probably the same “deserted” feel only bigger that one can feel walking along any seaside resort in the winter when everything is shut and packed away.

Well, as I have got this as up to date as the present (at the time of writing) I will post it and then watch the glorious victory our rugby team secured to reach the RWC final – the money went to RWC who own the rights to it all. Bastard Murdoch only gets the rights to broadcast it live so my money wasn’t wasted on an evil cause.

“Swing low sweet chariot coming for to carry me home....”
For those that have heard me sing – sorry!
For those that haven’t – imagine any good voice you like!