Chris Writing Anything

Think back on your most memorable road trip.

Of all the roadtrips I have been on, and of all the mishaps and surprises that lied down those paths, there is one journey that stands out amongst all the rest. The drive was thousands of miles long, and my car traversed along a variety of landscapes. In this post, I’ll briefly tell you about my Al-Can Highway trip.

I was leaving Eilsen AFB, AK, and I was only 22 years old. My mother and my sister flew into Fairbanks to meet me. From there, we drove towards the Lower 48.

Of the many memories I gleaned from my adventure, there was a night of camping in Denali National Park. After camping, and while leaving the next day, I blew a tire on one of the park’s backroads.

Lo and behold, sitting at the end of that very long gravel stretch, and causing jubilation rivaling that of a lottery winner, there was an enormous tire shop dwarfing every other of that very small town’s buildings. My mother and sister, who were displeased with my previous agitated state, were reluctantly satisfied.

There were also steep grades to climb. As I passed through a Yukon mountain range, my Ford Ranger maxed out at forty-five miles an hour. It could have been because, and it might very well be part of the reason, all I had owned was under my truck bed’s tarp, or maybe that truck was a piece of crap. Either way, Winnebagos were fairing better than my tiny pick up.

Also, I remember using US currency, and I recall receiving Canadian money for change. The best parts about Canada, and they certainly were cool, were the mountains of British Columbia and the Edmonton Mall.

My absolute favorite parts were moose, elk, wolf, bear and wild horse sightings.

Of course, like an unsettling omen, everywhere we camped posted signs that urged us to beware of bears. My young sister was fearless when it came to bears. While in the Yukon, we had stopped behind a long procession of automobiles. Every passenger was gawking at a mama grizzly and her cubs. In a fit of youthful excitement, and a desire for a great photo, my teenaged sister hopped from the car, and she got in position to take a photo. In my life, I’ve rarely raised my voice towards my kid sister…that day I did.

Once hitting lower Canada and North Dakota, the drive was arduously boring. Long fields of grain, interrupted only by mills, seemed a pendulum luring me into hypnosis. The twenty four hours of travel, a stretch of continuous driving, well, save for restroom and gas stops, were the longest hours of my life.

I remember reaching Wisconsin’s western border, and I remember thinking, “We’re almost there.” That line of thought only made the ensuing hours longer. However, after a very long and eventful drive, we arrived in Brussels, Wisconsin.

I was only half relieved, because, within two weeks time, I would be making a solo journey to South Carolina. But, for that time being, it felt really good to be home.

Have an Excellent Day!