Long But Worth It…Kinda Like This Trip

This is an archive, my most recent update is at www.thewholeworldround.com.

A duo drove into Seattle, but a trio left. Evie Barnes of Boulder Colorado, a friend of friends from Southern, has joined us for the drive up to Alaska. Evie has dreadlocks and a long list of food allergies. One way she gets protein is by drinking chia seeds with her water (you remember “cha cha cha chia…the seeds that so easily sprout into thick green grass). I’ve petitioned Evie several times to plant the seeds in her dreads, thus achieving a truly unique style. Evie is closed minded when it comes to my ideas.

It takes only three hours to drive from Seattle to Vancouver, B.C., so we made it to Vancouver in time to spend the evening in Gastown. Gastown is the historic and touristy part of Vancouver. Gas lights illuminate the narrow cobblestone streets. At the heart of Gastown a giant steam powered clock billows and ticks the hours away.

I’ve always felt indebted to the people of Vancouver. Once I snuck into a spinning restaurant atop a skyscraper a few blocks from Gastown. I wanted to see the panoramic view without paying $15 dollars to visit the tower’s observation deck. A dapper young man introduced himself in the elevator. Jason was a dump truck driver by day, and philanthropist of his family’s fortune by night. He had three underprivileged Chinese boys with him (Big Brother program) and he invited me to join their dinner party. The boys had trouble pronouncing and understanding the fancy names on the menu (so did I to be honest). Questions arose about many dishes, and Jason would graciously describe each dish, but he also ordered ever single dish in question (at $30-50 a plate) so that we wouldn’t have to take his word for it. He treated us like kings, and as I revisited Vancouver I was eager to return the favor. I found Mike, a hungry heroin addict. We went grocery shopping. Maybe Mike will blog about it someday.

From Vancouver we went up to Squamish to spend a couple of days climbing B.C.’s world class granite. In Squamish the Taco Bell is expensive, but the rock is incredible! We saw one of the hardest routes in the world, Chris Sharma’s “Dream Catcher” (5.14d, it’s only been climbed twice). The rain held off long enough for us to soundly abuse our underused climbing muscles. On the afternoon of our second climbing day we headed North and East to Kamloops.

It’s a bit of a thrill to call people you’ve never met and ask if you can stay at their house. There is potential for awkwardness, but there’s also the potential to encounter greatness. I’m so happy we didn’t pass Kamloops without calling Andy and Inge Anderson. We went to church with them, feasted on all manner of goodness from their garden, and listened to yarns of a couple who, as we do too, live life as a great adventure. It must be the garden food that gives Andy, at 70, a fire in his eye and indefatigable story telling energy.
The Andersons took us for a hike along the Adams river where we watched the Sockeye Salmon spawn. At the confluence of the Adams and a brisk mountain tributary Andy stopped us and pointed to a Sockeye in the midst of making a decision. The fish sampled the two currents, deliberated for a spell, then took off decidedly in the direction from which he had come four years ago and from which his ancestors have come for millenia.

Andy, the old story teller, marched with a large cedar walking stick straight up hills, over logs, and through thick undergrowth. His stride never faltered, nor did his stories. He told of a time he’d gone to the Ukraine to build a facility for the Adventist church. He drove across the border in a “peppy little Volkswagen” and told customs officials the truth: that he was carrying $100,000 in cash.

Not surprisingly, Andy wasn’t far from the border when he noticed a dark car was tailing him. After stopping for gas and groceries the dark car reappeared and confirmed the intent of its occupants to corner Andy and steal his payload. Andy had some church ladies in the car with him, and didn’t want to alarm them, so he mentioned he’d like to see what the little car could do and took the thrilled ladies on a joy ride through the mountains. Once he’d gained a sufficient lead over his pursuers (out of their line of sight) it occurred to him that the women might enjoy stopping to watch the sunset. He dipped off down a little dirt road, and led the Dorcas crew on an evening stroll. Once night had fallen they regained the road miles away from their befuddled pursuers. The ladies never knew.

Andy and Inge’s stories were better than ours, I suppose that comes with maturity. No doubt we bored them with our pitiable attempts at orating. Andy’s ears did perk up though when Jeremy mentioned the mountains we saw in South America. Andy wants to visit those mountains since they’re his.

We salied forth from Kamloops two days ago, our northward drive serving to expedite autumn’s onslaught. Although the spruce maintain their color all year, the aspen leaves are already bright yellow. It’s chilly at night and the taller peaks are already receiving their fist dustings of snow. Yesterday we saw three bears. I accidentally hit and killed a ptarmigan with the car. I’m carrying it along in case I get fired up to gut and cook it, but to be honest my motivation for that has waned markedly post rigormortis.

Yesterday we stopped by the Alger river to munch on the primitive contents of our grub box. The scene was picturesque so I got out my camera bag (an old leather fanny pack that I wear like a shoulder holster) to take some pictures. A few miles down the road, after eating, I again saw a landscape worth photographing. The problem was my camera bag (in which I also keep my wallet and ipod) was nowhere to be found. I realized right away that I had left it on the roof of the car. A quick glance at the roof confirmed the sickening truth that my bag, my luggage’s analogue for the Sanctuary’s Most Holy Place (thieves don’t read this do they?), was no longer with us. We went back. The bag was laying in the middle of the oncoming lane at the first major turn North of our lunch spot, it had slid from the roof of the car at roughly 60mph. Luckily there’s very little traffic here (no cars had passed) so the bag hadn’t been run over, but my heart was in my throat knowing that a crash to the asphalt at 60mph had probably left me with a useless bag full of Canon and Apple shards. I was praying pretty hard and God really blessed. Everything works fine, and now that I have my I.D. back I’ll be able to leave Canada and enter Alaska (remember our passports are still in Seattle at the Russian consulate).

We’re about 30 minutes from Whitehorse, Yukon. Evie is driving and Jeremy and I are typing in anticipation of a good upload session in Whitehorse. Tonight we will camp on the marge of Lake LaBarge. Last night the northern lights were flickering and I hope they do it again tonight. We’re going to build a fire and read “The Cremation of Sam McGee” a poem set on the marge of Lake LaBarge. We just passed another bear! This is fun.

-bjorn2bwild