6,523 miles

My life has taken a turn for the better. In Seward, Mom finally got it that I need more exercise. Actually, she got it before, she just couldn't figure out how to do it since there are no fences and she doesn't jog. My habit of running away means I will never be allowed off leash.

She went to a little hardware store in Seward and bought me one of those retractable leashes. All these years she has refused, and now she thinks it is great. I run all over the place, she walks her normal pace, and I get lots of exercise.

I also get in a bit of trouble. I have taken to bush diving. I just LOVE the smells at the periphery of trails, streets, walks. That's where all the good stuff happens, as every dog knows. Mom has been dragging me out of the bush since she bought the new leash. Another thing that drives my nose crazy is the beach. Wow, is that a sensory overload. Now I can run into it, just like off leash dogs do.

This morning, Mom walked me on a boardwalk across a marsh. For a while, I stayed on the boardwalk, but just when she let down her guard, I leaped. I bounced around the marsh for a while, and she was saying, oh well, okay, whatever, and then she realized I was hip deep in muck. I paid quite the price with a hose later for that little bit of fun.

The whole family drove up Skyline drive, and I went bush diving at a scenic overlook. Mom ignored me for a little while, and guess what! I came up with a baby something. Like a mouse, or something. Mom felt bad, but I felt like a proud hunter.

Mom and Dad kept me in the RV most of the rest of the day while driving up the Sterling Highway. They looked around a quaint, all natural, little Russian fishing village called Ninilchik. It was settled by Russian Aleuts years ago. There was a volunteer showing the inside of the church, and she talked about the village and clams and eagles as well as the church. Mom wanted to know what the extra crossbars were on the Coptic cross, and she knew all about it. She's really from Montana, but she prefers living here.

Dad spotted a moose, and mom went back down the highway to photograph it. No moose. She said he sent her on a wild moose chase. Then she looked up the side of the hill and there it was, trucking off to somewhere. It was a pretty big one. Then she spotted another one grazing on the edge of the highway. That one was easy to see.

Finally, we came to Kenai, a little village on Cook Inlet with a Russian Orthodox history too. Mom took me walking along the bluffs above the inlet, and it was windy and cool. She says it was frosty, but I think it was the wind that made it feel cooler than 50 degrees. We saw the little church and the chapel that marked the graves of Father Nicholai somebody, the original parish priest, and his helper, who were the first to bring the small pox vaccine to the community. What I liked best about the chapel was the yard. It was mowed grass, but along the edges were excellent tall grasses to jump in. Mom took a little video so you can see me sniffing. What you can't really tell is that the mowed area is on the edge of a bluff dropping off to to Cook Inlet. Would have been such fun to slip the long line to go down there! Maybe tomorrow!

5.973 miles

Mom keeps picking up puppies. I sure hope none of them sticks. This one was at the Iditarod Museum and Headquarters near Willow. Willow has been the restart of the race the last two years as Wassilla was light on snow. The ceremonial start is in Anchorage, but that's hokey, with celebrities and paying passengers. The real thing is the next day. We met the son of the founder of the Iditarod, along with his dogs. His two sons run the race now, and his dad last ran it at age 80. He gave me three booties that his dogs had worn in the Iditarod. (that is one hard word for my paws to keep typing) So now I have one bootie from the Yukon Quest and three from the Iditarod. I feel very special. Next time I start chewing my paws, I will be wearing famous trail booties.

We are in Anchorage now. We moved to an RV park on the Chester Creek Trail. I LOVE the trail. I can walk for miles with no cars. Our other RV park was on too busy a street. Besides, Mom said she wanted to move to a park without permanent occupants whose license plates expired in 1994. Mom and I tried to walk into the little park next door to our former RV Park, but there weren't any trails. Finally, we found the trail that was off leash ok for dogs. Mom said I probably couldn't be trusted. Here by Chester Creek is much better. We just walk down to the creek and start smelling the woods.

In our new park, I am very popular. The people next door used to have a Sammy, and the lady took off with me walking the minute she saw me. Her husband, who is running the Summer Solstice Marathon tomorrow, took me for a little jog. Then another man came by with smoked dog bones for me. His dog has rejected them. I loved it! I gave him kisses his next trip by, and then he brought his dog to meet me. Part Aussie, Part Border Collie. Finally, another lady came by, and she was from El Campo and she came in and talked and talked. Then her husband came in and talked and talked. I am so popular here.

Today Mom and Dad rode their bikes on the Chester Creek Trail. It connects with the coastal trail that goes out by Knik Arm and Turnagain Arm. They said they love the trails and they intend to go again and again. Save a little energy for me, Mom!

They went to the Alaskan Heritage Center today. The natives talk to you and tell you their stories. Most of them are young people, and they know their villages, their clans, their ancestors, their customs, their language. Very interesting. They tell you anything you want to know. The games demonstration was especially interesting. They compete in native games internationally with people from Finland and other midnight sun countries. There are also dances. That's what they do in the winter. Gather in their communal lodged and dance.

I found it pretty boring, because I had to stay in the RV, but I heard some lady had a poodle on the trails. I just hate it when I don't get to go and then another dog does. A poodle too! Not even a real dog.

We saw a moose in a pond on the path to the Heritage Center. I hear there are lots of them in Anchorage. Maybe I will meet one on the path.

5,592 miles

Oiy! Am I having trouble with my days and nights. Sunset about 1 am and sunrise at 3 am. All that seratonin is nice, but I am getting sleep deprived. Mom and Dad sometimes stay up too late too. Then we are all grumpy next day. Worse yet, they close all the blinds and I am not ready for bed yet. But I love the weather. No rain for several days, lots of sun, and really cool nights. Just like November at home.

We have been hanging around Fairbanks since we left Chena Hot Springs. Mom and Dad like the University of Alaska Fairbanks a lot. Stunning Campus on a hill with ultra modern white buildings jutting into a blue blue sky. Especially the Museum of the North, which is supposed to resemble the crevace of a glacier. Mom says they learned all about winter there. Do you know that the sun is rising and setting in the south now? In the winter it will be in the north. Has to do with the earth's wobble. Spring and fall it will be "normal". They also saw Blue Babe, the mummy bison 30,000 years old. If you click on the title of this section, you will be at the museum site and you can see for yourself.

Alaskans are an independent breed. The girl working in the museum was born in a tent while her parents were building their cabin sans plumbing. Some Alaskans cross county ski by moonlight in the winter. It takes a certain mindset. But mostly they love the wilderness, and so they are willing to endure the winters.

We also visited the Large Animal Research center on campus. I was not allowed inside, but we were parked right by the Muskox and I got to whimper out the window at them. You think I have issues with hair? They have the warmest coat on the earth. There were babies, too. They are born at 25 pounds and gain a pound a day in their first year. Got to get tough for the winter. There are about 4,000 muskox in the wild in Alaska. They defend themselves against predators by forming a tight circle, horns facing out.

Here at the Large Animal Research center we found out that a reindeer is just a domesticated caribou. Caribou migrate, reindeer don't. It takes several generations for them to adapt to domestication. The huge antlers on the male caribou here had only been growing a month. As soon as the male takes a bride and defends her honor in the fall, off come the antlers.

Just in case you think mosquitos are bad where you are, you should be glad you are not a caribou. The mosquitos drive them crazy. They suck several pints of blood a day out of a caribou. Zaps their energy.

Rudy a German student led the tour. He said the caribou won't cross roads in their migration, so they may end up in a less desirable wintering ground than they had in mind. Rudy is getting a masters in Global Warming Politics. UAF has extensive lines of study in this field. Since Alaska is doing the melting, seems appropriate.

I was welcome to walk in the woods with Mom on campus near the botanical gardens. I had to wear my bell because there was a sign about moose in the forest. I was also welcome at Creamers Field on leash. Creamers Field used to be a dairy farm, and now it is a migrating waterfowl refuge. I have never seen so many birds in one place. I thought it peculiar that I could walk the trails with all the waterfowl in the field, but I couldn't get near the birds if we stayed on the path. Mom walked me at least 3 miles into the boreal forest. I wonder what she is thinking? That I am getting too porky? Had to nap the rest of the day.

Dad and Mom have been biking too. Mostly Dad, because Mom takes me on a walk and she says she can't do both. Not enough daylight she says. I think that sounds pretty hoaky with 22 hours. She should be doing both.

Fairbanks has trail upon trail for road bikes, so Dad is now up to four or five days in a row, riding every day since Tok. Today Dad fell in with some Race for the Cure riders, and this morning we met the Tour de Fairbanks going up the Steese Highway. Lots of hills and two serious peletons in that group.

We spent one night at a campground up the Steese Highway, and mom walked me there too. That was the night I got in trouble over squirrel barking. Like, who can hear me with the Chatanika river making all that noise? I won't mention that she collected rocks and hid them under the seat of the RV. Dad wanted to go up that highway to see the Alaska Pipeline. They were big old pipes. Yep, sure were big. There are also a number of satellite tracking stations up the highway, including Nasa's. Phone home, ET.

Mom's phone got to North Pole today, and it works too. As soon as she reads the instructions she could probably call somebody. Now that we have that taken care of, we can leave for Denali. I sure hope I get to see wildlife.

4,701 miles

OH MY GOSH! What else can I say. I stepped out of the RV and this is the greeting I got. 120 pack animals telling me I am NOT one of them. I was SO intimidated! I was quickly led to a pen by Manuella, the intuitive German girl who is the kennel manager and carpenter. Things quieted down after that.

The owner says there are no alpha dogs. Only he is the alpha. If you ask me, they were all alpha dogs compared to me....

Mom and Dad took a 3 1/2 hour tour of this sled dog musher's operation. Frank Turner has finished 22 of the 25 Yukon Quest races from Fairbanks to Whitehorse. He is plumb nuts about his dogs. There are 120 of them because he keeps his retired dogs till they die. Every dog has a name, and Frank knows them all. I think after a while he has to get creative on names. One litter he obviously named for spices. Teregon, Ginger, Nutmeg.... Really! Almost as bad a my litter named after a TV show.

It takes $3,000 a month to feed the dogs. If he did not have an army of volunteers, I am sure Frank would be eating kibble himself. For example, there is a French girl there who is an attorney at home. But she is on sabbatical scooping poop and hauling water. When Frank does the race, he does get some sponsors, but not like those in the Iditerod. This race is 1,050 miles long, in February, at 50 below.

In the summer, Frank does not run his dogs taking tourists on sled runs on wheels, like some kennels do. It is too hot. Instead, he does these three 1/2 hour tours. In the winter, he does dog sled tours. He has row upon row of parkas and sleeping bag and bunny boots for the guests.

Let me tell you about boy vs girl sled dogs. The boys pull harder, and they are stronger. But they run willy nilly, looking for squirrels and moose. The girls keep the team on track. They are focused. When the humans went on the walk with the sled dogs, it was the boys turn, so Frank Turner, the musher, warned them to leave room between for the boy dogs to run. The boys just run without looking. I saw it for myself.

I was a little concerned when Mom picked up a 7 day old puppy. It went to sleep in her hand and I was afraid her motherly instinct would kick in. She said not to worry, I don't have to be a pack animal. I can remain the only dog. But I am a little concerned about food. Frank felt my ribs and said I needed to be on a diet.

After the tour, Mom asked him to look at my paw. I have been chewing my back paw. He found a red spot where I have licked it to death. He said to put my medicine on two times a day and keep it dry. Then he put a bootie on my foot so I could not chew! I had to humor him. He was a dog whisperer.

All I can say is, I am just fine with being an only dog. This pack mentality is for the birds.

4,060 miles

 

It is such a good thing that I was on bear watch today. This mom and three cubs was grazing by the highway, eating some of their 20,000 calories a day, mostly vegetation. They grazed and paid us no mind. I was driven to serious whimpering! Three of them had to poop while we were watching. No wonder. Their diet sounds like the old Pritikin health plan, where you ate about a bushel of raw veggies every day.

Dad requested the historic hiway bypass at Mile 17 over an original wooden bridge, the only one still in use from the 1942 construction of the Alaska Highway. It is 531 feet long. A little wierd driving on a wooden deck. Dad tiptoed over it, but the kamakazee RV driver in front of us didn't even slow down. He had one of those 40 foot diesel pushers with a tow vehicle behind. You could hear him using the engine breaks as he roared past us down the 6% downgrades.

We also crossed the Peace River Bridge, another big deal. This river needed a bridge right away during the war, because the ferry across the river could only take so many trucks per hour. After two bridges washed away, the army built a suspension bridge that lasted until 1957. The current bridge was completed in 1960, and it has a metal grate desk. There was a work crew spraying primer on it when we crossed.

We took a lunch break at Shepherds Inn, where mom and dad had buffalo burgers served by a young girl from Germany, and I stayed in the RV. Mom was not going to clean my feet again after our first stop where a water truck was driving around turning the dusty road to mud. She says she is going to have to mop the RV tonight because of the tracks of my paws.

Dad wanted to stop really early, but there was that mud thing at the first campground, and then Lub and Abners was a ghost town. A first nation guy with a headband and tie dye shirt came along on his bike, and he said, "Sure, stay anywhere, but there's no water, and the electric pole just fell down, so there's no charge." "Hey, you guys are from Texas? I named my kid Dallas. I love the Cowboys." I could not wait for Dad to get out of there. Just too wierd. You should have seen the guy's house. Vines were growing inside the window.

So despite not wanting to come this far, we are in Fort Nelson tonight. Tomorrow is Muncho Lake, a highlight of the Alaska Hiway, and then the Laird Hot springs. Once again, give me gold over hot, but whatever makes Mom and Dad happy, I vote for. Wildlife viewing is supposed to really pick up. We saw moose signs all day, but they like to come out at dusk. Do you really think we are going to be driving the RV around at 11 at night?

3,775 miles, and here we are at Mile 0

 

Yep, we made it to the first mile of the Alaska Highway. Now, 1200 more miles and we will be in Alaska. I have settled into the routine and am eating nicely now. I was on a starvation diet for some time. You can check today's photos to see me trying to get my own food out of the pantry.

This morning Mom and Dad got out those silly bikes again to ride around Chetwynd looking at chainsaw carvings. They said there are lots of them, but more remarkable, all the buildings have murals on them. Mom was thinking it was supplemental income for a chainsaw guy, and sure enough that's what it is. The visitor center said a chainsaw artist came for the international competition last June and stayed all summer painting murals. He was from Nanaimo. Try spelling that town.

Mom says if the package absolutely has to be there tomorrow, don't start in Chetwynd. She needed to send something back to the states asap, and went looking for Fed Ex. The information center said she could send Fed Ex from the post office or the 5th street cottage flower shop. The post office said no way; best we can do here is 8 days. The cottage shop said, no, just UPS here, but go to the bus station for Fed Ex. The girl at the bus station said she had not a clue. Later mom tried again at the visitor center in Dawson Creek, and they called Puralator. The eager information girl had not even finished her one hour briefing of the next two days for Carl when the Puralator lady walked in the door.

We walked all over town taking Milepost zero picture. You can see one above and more in the albums.

Tonight at Mile 0 campground I met a real honest to goodness sled dog and a WOLF. The man walking the wolf said we should not be introduced personally. Later Mom went back to take photos and ask about the Wolf. 11 years ago the couple was at a wolf show in Alaska. The show was going out of business, and there were these adorable black puppies. They took one home to Arizona, along with a real sled dog from a mushing kennel. The wolf can't live alone. Has to be part of a pack.

It's been an interesting experience they say. They keep her away from people because she is pretty nervous about people, except for them. She has a strong sense of smell and rolls all over new smells, like new lotion on the wife. She's lived 4 years beyond the average age a wolf in the wild lives, and her arthritis is bothering her. This is the first time they have brought her back to Alaska with them.

Meanwhile, I sit outside my little RV and talk to any passers by. The lady in the next RV kept asking me to sing my song for her. I obliged a couple of times.