He didn't make an offer, but I think he left a pile of what he thought my car was worth somewhere near the driveway.
In summer, the photo ops don't come right to your front door, but that's OK. Getting there is more than half the fun.
Take, for example, the time James and I went to Circle (or as I like to call it "Yukon River 3: This Time It's Personal.")
Circle's a place where shooting at anyone disturbing your sleep is technically illegal but generally overlooked.
The town itself, well, it sucked. There was a kindly couple who ran the local grocery store/gas station/phonebooth. I used a washeteria for the first time (the only spot in town with running water; it's like the prison bathrooms in Riki-Oh: "You can take a (expletive); you can wash your clothes; just do it all in 15 minutes.")
Other than that, the most interesting aspect of Circle was a huge wooden lodge on the banks if the Yukon. It was supposed to be a resort that would pump money into this desolate town of 90 or so redsidents. Instead, its funding was tied to some sort of political scandal, and the lodge, without any wiring or plumbing, was left to rot and sits for sale with a beutiful view of the river.
Just like the Deadhorse trip, the final 40 percent of the drive was seemingly endless. It was like the worlds longest bushwhacked driveway: 100 miles of soft dirt, sharp turns and barely anything to look at.
Before that, though, there was plenty to see and do.
We hit up some spots we recognized along the Yukon Quest such as Eagle Summit, Twelvemile Summit and the steakouse in Central, which has the best steaks in 100 miles -- but that's like being the hottest chick in Deadhorse.
We saw an old gold dredge.
And forged a stream ...
So we could get to a sign that anyone in Alaska should read.
Ah yes, the Adventure Zone. We entered it again in September when James won the right to drive on the Denali Highway. There's a lottery that about 2,000 people win per year to be allowed to do this. James won. We hopped in the Jetta again.
Christi came along.
An amazing feature of Denali is the glacier-made valleys. From afar, they look like enormous rivers, though they're just a long row of anti-scorched earth, ravaged smooth by ice.
We saw Mount McKinley through a light fog. Our cameras didn't.
Oh well, looks like we'll just have to come back.
By the way, the Jetta, our toughest travel companion, took a bit of a bruising when James was driving to Skagway recently. The beloved red one was taken to Whitehorse, where it remains critical condition. I will be pouring a sip of my next beer out to honor my homie VW. I ask you to do the same.
1 comment:
I can see why you liked the summer.
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