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.