Part 2: California

May 7- 14

As much as we toiled through the chilly rains of coastal Oregon, California had been parched for years. It took a long pull on Earth’s canteen this winter, and we’d have the pleasure of hanging out with the well-hydrated monster of a state for the next week.

We left Harris Beach and bid adieu to Oregon as we crossed into Northern California along US-101. I stand by my belief that the first couple hundred miles of California should belong to Oregon. A continuation of old growth forests and rugged coastlines greeted us.

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Part 1: Oregon

April 30-May 6

Wet. The wetness came first from our eyes as we left Seattle. Later, from the skies of the Oregon coast.

We looked west, to the Olympic Mountains standing majestic on their peninsula. We looked east, to the cascades, home of innumerable volcanic peaks. To the Sound, its waters the home to innumerable islands. To the city skyline, home to innumerable characters we’ve met in the time we called it our home.

It’s time to go. Our souls forever stamped with the memories made in the northwest. We are grateful.

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Seattle, Round 3

August 18- November 5

There’s simply too much to cover to write any sort of narrative for this post. Instead, we’ll just go over everything in photos, with brief descriptions.

Returning to Seattle after our Alaskan Summer, we settled into our new apartment briefly before packing bags to head east. We spent a lovely weekend up in New Hampshire with family at the new lake house, and Grammy was able to make the trip from Buffalo- her first time getting to meet her great-grandson Elliott. We spent time taking in the beautiful weather and enjoying everyone’s company.

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The gang goes North: Part 9- Inside Passage

August 2-10

Last post of the our great adventure. A month late to writing it, as life seemed to pick up pace and complexity as we left the wilderness and camping.

On down the Haines Highway, fog enveloped us as we crested the highway pass at 3000 ft. It was a lonely, lovely highway. It seemed untouched, undisturbed, forgotten. The road pulled us back south into British Columbia from the Yukon, and we bid the northern territory goodbye, unsure if we’d ever step foot there again.

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The gang goes North: Part 8- Girdwood, Valdez, McCarthy/Kennecott and the Yukon

July 26-August 1

Glass on Kenai Lake awaited us the next morning. We’d decided to make our return trip back up the Kenai Peninsula that day, but had some time to spare.

Blowing up the kayak, we floated out onto the water. About a mile wide, and about 22 miles long, with two deep bends, I wanted to get to the east side, across the skinny way. A mountain cascade poured into the lake from beneath a tunnel of small trees, and we traveled to the mouth of it and relaxed for a half hour or so, in silence, save for the stream. Jamie and Charley took a nap. I couldn’t stop staring up at the long bowl that we floated within.

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The gang goes North: Part 7.2- Kenai Peninsula (West side)

July 21-25

Not shockingly, we left Seward the morning of the 21st in the midst of a rain shower. Heading north along the Seward Highway, then splitting off west along the Sterling Highway, our surroundings changed from mountainous to rolling forested flats. Homer sits at the end of the Sterling Highway, and “The Spit” stretches a handful of miles out into Kachemak Bay, only few hundred yards wide and marks the end of the road- as far south on the Peninsula as a car can take you.

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The gang goes North: Part 7.1- Kenai Peninsula (Seward)

July 17-20

Rain again. We slept in at Porcupine Campground in Hope, hoping it would dry up outside before we started packing. It didn’t.

Jamie finalized a blog post as we huddled under our awning. We’d be heading further south in the Kenai, to Seward, so we grabbed coffee at Kayak Coffee Co in town to give our bodies a little extra fuel. I spotted a guy wearing a Bills hat under a pavilion beside the coffee shop’s parking lot.

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The gang goes North: Part 5- Hatcher Pass, Eklutna Lake, Anchorage

July 6-10

We grabbed breakfast in Talkeetna the morning after our flightseeing tour.  We talked with Nguyen, Jim’s wife, before leaving the Homestead cabin, as their home was on the same property.

“I used to live in Anchorage. Too many people, and no peace. There’s always noise. Here I’m happy. I hear the birds and the chickens and no people. I work hard on the gardens and house, and it’s long days. But I’m happy here. And now I’m thin! Always moving. When I lived in Anchorage, I was too heavy!”

We chuckled together, and she wished us well on our trip. Charley gave her some sniffs and Nguyen reciprocated with pets.

Denali was in clouds that day. It made us even more grateful to have seen her the prior day. We set out towards Wasila, down in the valley, taking the Parks Highway south again. Groceries and laundry. By now we’re at our most efficient getting errands done. I drop Jamie at the market, and head to the laundromat (in most towns we’ve come across, the two are quite proximal). Charley lays in bed in Archie.

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The gang goes North: Part 4- Old Denali Highway and Talkeetna

July 3-5

“Get off my dog!” Jamie yelled at the mosquitoes.

Ever since entering the Yukon several day prior, mosquitoes had been our unwelcome company. These ones were unlike any we’d encountered before. I was describing them to my dad over the phone as, “it’s like they have a lieutenant and they get their mission and fully commit to it. They’re not haphazardly flying and maybe biting. It feels like a coordinated attack, and when they get you, you can visibly see their bodies swelling red with blood.”

We left Delta Junction that morning, happy to start our Alaska adventure. Jamie and I decided that it was the worst of the campgrounds we’d stayed at. Unkempt, overgrown, ragged. Situated a stones throw from a helicopter-field for wildfire management. We were treated to the whooshing of heli-blades for a good portion of the night.

The old Denali Highway is exactly that: the original approach route to Denali National Park and its surrounding wilderness. But first, we rode the Richardson Highway southbound to catch the old Denali highway in Paxson. We passed stretches of wide, rubble filled drainage areas, with grey serpentine rivers meandering through the massive glacial valley floors. So much water. The Alaska Range came into view as we ascended into the tundra of the Old Denali Highway, furthermore known as the 8.

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The gang goes North: Part 3.1

June 24-29

The Alaska Highway: Dawson Creek, BC to Whitehorse, YT

“Name’s Jim Connors,” said our neighbor at the Dawson Creek Mile ‘0’ Campground. The rolling hills and farms surrounding us reminded me of Upstate NY. It felt familiar, though so far away from home. 

An older gentleman with a hardened smile, Jim gave us the skinny on his upcoming northern journey. His beat up wood-paneled Chevy pickup hailed from Wyoming, as did Jim.

“I get 9 miles to the gallon in that thing, and the front tank doesn’t play nice with ethanol. I’ll try to keep the back tank good and full, but that’ll mean stopping every 120 miles or so.”

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