Well, good people, it has been a long, adventurous trip but we arrived, safely, at the Clam Gulch Lodge late Friday night. The water heater has been repaired, the dogs are out on their first training run in the hills (I had to stay down here to do a meet and greet with some Tustumena sponsors and man am I ever wiped out?). We have been enjoying sit-down meals with our friends and the hot tub is nearly ready for use. We are so happy.
Now that I have a spare moment, which from now until March 18th will be a rare thing, I must tell you about the amazing people and goodness we encountered on our way up here.
At 7am last Saturday, Dad, Aaron and I loaded our 24 best dogs into our truck and left for a projected 4-5 day road trip. The plan was to meet our friend, Gary, in Portland and Caravan through Washington and Canada together. When we reached Tok Gary would turn south and head for Clam Gulch, to prepare the Lodge for our arrival, while we headed north toward Fairbanks where Dad would run the first race of the season.
The first day was wonderful, we were given two care packages and a dozen hugs before we even left town. We met up with Gary, as planned and when we got to Tacoma Aarons parents were waiting for us with soup, sandwiches and cinnamon rolls. His mom also hooked me up with a month’s supply of tea.
The next day or so was pretty uneventful, with the exception of some Canadian border guards who were seriously hug-deprived. We would drive for four hours, let the dogs relieve themselves and rive more. Dad and Aaron would sleep in motel rooms at night and I would sleep in the truck with a dog.
The adventure started when the gas light came on. Two hundred yards later we were out. Dad pulled over and we got sucked into a ditch. We climbed out, surveyed the situation and came to one conclusion: this sucks. No more than 5 minutes later, a huge rig of some sort pulled up in front of us. The driver got out and asked us if we were ok and his friend came back with a tow rope. We were out within two minutes. It was scary to watch but it was done. We thanked our new friends; they thanked us for the chance to help and went on their merry way.
Now, what then to do about gas? We had a can with us and Gary was willing to make the 50 mile drive to Fort Nelson to fill it up. Dad, Aaron and I resigned ourselves for a 2-hour wait in the middle of BC. What happened next was unbelievable. As Aaron was fetching the gas can another man pulled up to check on us. When we told him what had happened he smiled and said, “I’m your guardian angel. Look in the back” In his back seat sat 6 full gas cans. We were saved.
A mile down the road we had a blow-out. We were stuck again. None of us even had cell coverage. Fortunately, at that very moment, 3 vehicles pulled up in front of us. These men worked for a natural gas company and were caravanning to a job site. They tried to help us make the spare work but there was just no way- we had the wrong lugnuts. When we had tried everything, the man in charge pulled out his sat phone and told one of his guys, still in Fort Nelson, to find us a proper spare. Gary drove ahead to meet the man and bring the tire back to us and our new friends waited until they knew that Gary had the tire. We said our thanks once again and then we were alone.
We were stuck there for about 3 hours. We fed the dogs, bundled up and waited. Nearly every passing vehicle stopped to check on us and offer us food and water. The temperature had dropped from about 15 to -20 but good gear, hand warmers and the wonderful star-jumps that Stevo taught me, we stayed pretty comfortable.
We spent the night in Fort Nelson and told Gary to go ahead after learning that we couldn’t get a new tire until the next day. We spent the day watching the news and wishing there was some way to get out of there before the next afternoon. And there was. A guy at another tire shop made some magic happen and we were out the next morning.
As it turns out the old adage, bad things come in threes, is true; the rest of Canada went by very smoothly.
We stopped at Liard Hot Springs for a much needed soak. We escorted a smart car through a herd of bison. And of course we checked on every stopped vehicle, we saw.
We made it over the border with ease but black ice, cars in ditches and horrid road reports forced us to stay the night in Tok and call off our Fairbanks plans. The next night we finally made it to Gary’s thrilled and relieved to finally be here, we let the dogs out for their final romp hit the sheets!
Now as if all of this was not inspiration enough, a simple occurrence last night confirmed my feeling that I absolutely must share these experiences with my dear friends, scattered around the world. Dean, my racing partner’s dad, invited us over for dinner. We watched some boxing, talked a bit about the upcoming races, he volunteered me to help him cook and as we were finishing our delicious salmon dinner, I heard a familiar tune resonating from the next room.
You guessed it! I jumped up and bolted into the living room singing “Running form the cold up in new England I was born to be a fiddler in an old time string band…”
What a perfect ending to a road trip that screamed, “Goodness Collective”
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