I love road trips. I love the open road. I love looking at the map and figuring out the time to the next possible destination, the next possible enlightenment. And then you find the perfect rhythmic song to create a train in your mind and you’re off and running. Throw on a Johnny Cash or Waylon Jennings album and it’ll be several zip codes before you are concerned of your whereabouts.
We are so fortunate to be able to get in the car and drive just about anywhere we want in this country and even beyond our borders. Think of all of the people who worked tirelessly to create the great highway system we have come to know and love in the U.S. Think of the pioneers who packed supplies, horses, infants and their entire livelihood to set out for a better life. An unknown land with potential – potential for what? Gold? Property? A better life? It was a risk they took. They had dirt paths at best and were lucky if they chose the right route along with forgiving weather and terrain. The Donner family, back in 1846, decided to up and move in search of opportunities and a better life in the west. To their dismay, they had much more dire circumstances than the present day traveler has with 24 hour gas pumps and continually lit vacancy signs. They battled the Sierra Nevada, they lost horses, they lost lives, they lost dignity succumbing to cannibalism because of no other choice, all without the luxury of a Motel 6 or a rest stop; stops we have come to expect without question. They were the ones who truly defined road trip. To them I am grateful. I am grateful for the small highway that brought me to Alaska; I think it may be the closest thing to pioneer like conditions that I could even come close to imagine.
We set out for Alaska on Wednesday, April 22nd with only the belongings that fit in my 2004 Hyundai Elantra. I had new tires, fresh oil, three bags of Haribo gummy bears (among other snacks, but those are the most important) and thanks to my wonderful friends, a dancing hula girl air freshener. We were set. A person doesn’t really need much more than those items that fill a car. It forced to take a step back, reevaluate the material possessions in my life and made me realize the things that bring true happiness to my life. I had some clothes, my dutch oven and chef’s knife, my favorite boots, music, a loving companion and an open mind. What more do you need?
Andy had done the drive before without stopping and wanted to conquer the great unknown once again, but I wanted more than that. I wanted to see all there was to see and spot the elusive moose if my luck would have it. I didn’t see a moose (not yet anyway), but I saw so much more. My eyes took in more than ever before and I experienced the greatest road trip of my life thus far.
Have you ever been on a road where you forgot about the next gas station because everything else mattered more than fossil fuels? Have you been on a road that has caribou crossing, mountain goat crossing and moose crossing signs alike? Have you ever been on a road, alone, without oncoming traffic, for more than 20 miles? If you have, you may know how this story ends, but in true road trip fashion you only know a few mile markers. Every road trip is unique. Everyone chooses a different stop or destination or chooses to devote time and energy to something others may not. That is the beauty of a the trip.
The beauty is in the discovery. Sometimes your are forced to stop because of a small bladder or empty gas tank, but other times you stop just because. Because of the misty cloud cover and mysterious river valley that you may never see again.
Because no matter how old you are, those wooden boards with face holes always make you feel like a kid again.
Because you haven’t seen snow in a year and suddenly a yellow road sign looks artistic against the white terrain.
Because you haven’t had hot food in two days and you stumble upon the Toad River Lodge. Named not because of 4-H winning toads, but because of Oregon Trail style towing across the river back in the day. Somewhere along the line the name got mixed up. And then, someone left their hat behind and it started a “thing”. A “thing” where everyone had to affix their hat on the ceiling. And now you have the Toad River Lodge, home of 9198 hats stuck to the ceiling, just because.
Then, just when you think nothing can surpass the charm of hats on a ceiling and a bowl of the best homemade chicken noodle soup you’ve ever had, you stumble upon Watson Lake, home of the Sign Forest. This tiny town in the middle of Canada has a sign forest? The natural, living forests aren’t enough one has to make a sign forest? I guess so. I’m sure glad they did. It is amazing! Signs from all over the world! People drive thousands of miles, even cross oceans to visit this sign forest. They bring personalized signs to post there and prove their presence. I didn’t even know it existed. I thought it would be about 50-100 local signs that were artfully placed to somehow draw attention. Oh, no. This forest competes with Sherwood forest. Well, I should say I’m easliy amused so Robin Hood’s home may trump this, but it was pretty damn awesome. Rows upon rows of twenty-foot posts, littered with signs of all shapes, sizes and materials brought from all over the world. You may have to like signs to find the allure. I like signs.
Now, what I’m about to tell you, you may call bullshit, but please know I would never make this up, especially about my Alaskan road trip. I’m writing a blog, I mean, chronicle, I do not lie.
Upon entering the forest, what was the first sign my eyes lay upon?? A sign from Tata, Hungary.
Hungary! What are Hungarians doing all the way over here in the middle of nowhere?! What was I doing in the middle of nowhere. Being adventurous, I guess. Oh, my mother county. How I love thee. I should say, I’m not 100% set on fate and signs (pun intended), but I’ll take this as a hug from from my grandmother who may up there trying to remind me that I’m on the right path. Sometimes, it’s the small things. Well, for me, most of the time it’s the small things. If I do the math right the many small things I have accumulated will create one big thing. Paprikash. My restaurant. Remember that first meal in Skagway I talked about? Come on people, it was paprikash!
I welcomed Skagway with paprikash and Skagway has welcomed me with so much more. More than I ever thought possible. I am revelling in it. I am eager to share more stories with you, but I have to leave you now, I’m on a quest to find a specific hot sauce. Small town equals limited supplies. I’m very determined though and more than likely there will be a story to tell. Until then, take a road trip, discover something new, find a simple pleasure. When we meet again, we can share stories.
