The Drive Up

If you want to ask, “How far is it to Fairbanks, Alaska from Cincinnati, Ohio?” I’ve got the answer...12 days of very hard driving!!! (or 3810 miles). Don’t remember the exact date, but near the end of June 1973 Mom and Dad arrived in their GMC RV. I had my brand new 1973 VW Van loaded and ready to go. We met at Aunt Ruth and Uncle Cliff’s home in Lebanon, OH and we were on our way. Little did we know the adventures that were ahead of us.

There were a couple of issues right up front. First, there were 4 of us on this trip, Mom, Dad, Me and Jerry’s youngest sister, Maureen (also one dog and one cat, members of my immediate family!). Of the 4 of us, only two of us drove; Dad and I. Mom was capable of driving, but she refused to drive the RV because it was too big and she couldn’t drive my van because she didn’t drive manual transmissions. Maureen was too young to drive. We had three cars going up; the RV, my van and Jim’s Mazda coupe, which was also a manual. So, the Mazda was towed behind the RV. Shouldn’t be an issue...right? Eh!!

All was well initially except for a few minor issues. Ever hear of a restaurant that doesn’t know what iced tea is?? Try Thunder Bay, Ontario. It was a really hot day and my van didn’t have air conditioning. I wanted iced tea so badly and the restaurant had never heard of it!!!

Driving, driving, driving...got to Saskatchewan Province and heard on the radio to watch out for mosquitoes, they had swarms of them ¼ mile wide and 1 mile long roving through the area, stampeding cattle and killing livestock!! What????!!!

Got to Edmonton, Alberta, Canada and got lost from Dad!!! We’re in our first major city in a long time and somehow we got separated. No cell phones back then! He had said he needed to stop in the GMC dealership in Edmonton for service on the RV. I managed to find the GMC dealership, only the largest dealership of its kind in North America. Seriously, I had to go to the service desk and have Dad paged; their campus was so big I would never have found him.

Somewhere in British Columbia we came to the realization that we couldn’t keep towing the Mazda...it was too much of a strain on Dad and the RV. So, we started looking at hitchhikers. Our first selection was a young French woman who was hitching in the area on her own. She didn’t speak English and we didn’t speak French. She looked at the 3 pedals in the floor of the Mazda and scratched her head, asking a question....we didn’t know what she was asking, but it seemed obvious that she didn’t know what to do with 3 pedals. So, rather unkindly I thought, we left her where she was.

Next was a young man from Canada. Don’t remember his name, but he was a hoot. He had been working in the fish hatcheries along the coast, which had gone on strike. So he was wandering around Canada waiting for the strike to settle. Yep, he knew what to do with 3 pedals, so he became our driver. He jumped in, and off he went, in a blaze of dust, leaving us behind. OMG, what have we done??? Will we ever see Jim’s car again??

Turns out he would drive like a madman 30 or 40 miles up the road, pull over and wait for us. When we caught up, off he would go again. During one of his waits he wrote on the side of Jim’s car in the dust that was now caked on about 3” thick “New Zealand Racing Team”. He was a lot of fun and we thoroughly enjoyed his company.

At Dawson Creek, British Columbia we officially started driving the Alaska-Canadian Highway (or ALCAN Highway for short). Three of us were looking forward to it in eager anticipation, Maureen, Mr. NZ and me. Two of us were not as enthusiastic, Mom and Dad. The ALCAN had a notorious reputation and I can say, it did live up to its reputation. For more information use this Wikipedia link for details.

Back in those days the vast majority of the road was a two lane dirt road. I haven’t driven it in many years, but I understand that now large sections are paved. And the notion that it was 2 lanes worked most of the time, but there were occasions when you had to question exactly what qualified as two lanes....maybe for bicycles?

So, we kept driving. When we reached Whitehorse, Yukon Territory we were in trouble. Dad was somewhat fragile from heart attacks he had earlier in his life, and frankly, all the driving had just wore him out, he just couldn’t keep going at the same pace. So in Whitehorse, we called Jim, asked if he could fly in to help us out. He did and within a day or so Jim took over the majority of the driving while Mr. NZ and I did our share.

With the start of Jim’s driving we had our one and only ‘incident’ on the ALCAN. He was driving the RV, my van was being towed as I was exhausted, Mr. NZ was in the Mazda. I was asleep in the back of the RV when suddenly I was rolled up in a ball in the back. I looked out the window and we were in a ditch!!! Turns out Jim was driving just a little too fast for the washboard conditions of the road and he just bounced off the road. What to do. We couldn’t get ourselves out of this pickle. But help was soon to arrive.

The next vehicle to pass us came at us from the opposite direction. It was a semi truck. The driver stopped, looked over out situation and instructed us to unhook the van from the tow bar. Then he pulled out chains, wrapped one end around the front of his truck, one end around the front of the RV and backed his truck back up the road, pulling the RV out with great ease. He did the same thing to the van and with in 20 minutes we were back on the road again. Jim slowed down his driving.

Our next challenge was the Alaska-Canada border. Mr. NZ knew he could not get in to Alaska. As a Canadian citizen the border was very strict on letting in young men for fear they would disappear in the state and work illegally. (And explain to me why this concept is so foreign to the south, along the Mexico/US border??) Anyway, we still needed his help to drive, so he came up with a plan. We stayed the night on the Canadian side of the border, after dark he took off cross country by foot, heading north, and the next morning, a few miles up the road, there he stood, waiting for us to pick him up. We were back in business again.

When we reached Delta Junction, AK, we were only 95 miles from Fairbanks. But Delta Junction was officially the end of the ALCAN Highway. The rest of the road was paved so it was time to take down the screens that protected the windshields of the cars, and no more towing anything. When I got in my van I realized that towing it up the dirt road was a big mistake. I had failed to close the air vents and the inside of the van was now as covered with dirt as the outside. I never did get all that dust/dirt cleaned out. Also, the front of my brand new van now looked like it had chicken pox...the gravel from the road had kicked up off the RV and pitted the paint across the front. Oh well, you live and learn.