Susan's Perspective

Frost heaves, No, it's not what you get when you drink too much in the cold. For those of you in Richmond, remember the excitement of you and a carload of friends careening down Cherokee road at 50 miles an hour and becoming airborn? Well, this last part of the Alaskan Highway in Canada has been like that, except you go 20 miles an hour, for 128 miles, and the thrills are closer together. Let me define this for you as I de-stress. The upper part of the highway is built on permafrost, which has a depth of about 160 feet. You cannot see it---the roads look normal. But permafrost melts and re-freezes under the road beds. Hence, the effect is swells and/or cracks in the road. Now, imagine going over these in a pickup truck, pulling a 30ft camper. Oh, joy. I am very glad I am not prone to seasickness.....! And the cats were sedated. There are actually long stretches where it is smooth, and we are told the road crews have made vast improvements over the past year. And honestly, it really is NO fun traveling without some adventure, eh?


Yesterday, as we approached the drive around Kluane (Pronounced clue AN nee ) Lake, we saw snow covered mountains and glaciers for the first time. You will have to forgive me if I overuse the word breathtaking, but it's the only one that applies. The St. Elias Mountains. It is late fall here, and the mountains are getting their coats on.. We stayed in a campground last night that was surrounded by them. As I walked to the loo at dusk (10:45 pm) I stood there and listened to the mountains. They do have a song in the silence. It's the way the wind plays with the peaks and valleys. It is the voice of God at times, telling me to STOP and listen to the grandeur He has given us, to appreciate more than just what the eye can see. These mountains have been here for millions of years, and will continue to be for many more. I feel like such a speck, but at the same time, He gave them to US to gaze at , and listen to, for our short time here. Wow.

Today was a Big Day in the scheme of our travel. Twenty miles outside of Beaver Creek, we saw the sign that said “Welcome to Alaska” and then the border station was up ahead. I LOST it, totally. I could not keep the tears back. This was what we had striven for. This was to be HOME. As I rolled up to the window after Vernon had gone through, I was a mess. I handed over my passport, was asked some questions, and then the guard looked at me and handed the passport back with a warm smile on his face and said “Welcome home”. I pulled up into a parking slot next to Vernon. We both got out of our vehicles and just rejoiced for a few minutes. Lots of hugs and tears. Recovery ensued, and we were back on the road...a road, I might add, in considerably better shape I loved Canada, but there is something about seeing the flag in front of you, and not in the rearview mirror, that makes your heart swell. Welcome home, indeed.