Portrait of a Roadtrip: Alaska Part 6 Dawson

        We awoke in Whitehorse, nice and early. The sun rises at 4.45am at this time of year, so we’d only had about 4 hours of darkness. Still, our cabin in the garden had provided us with a good nights rest, the blinds closing out most of the light in the early hours. 

At round 7.30am we got up, hit the showers in the main house of the Beez Kneez hostel and tried desperately not to wake anyone or draw any attention from any of the guests or the odd manager. Fortunately the only one who appeared to notice our movements was the lovely blue eyed husky. 

We made a pit stop for gas and bought a camping mosquito proof gazebo from the huge outdoors shop before blazing out of town and onto the now familiar, dirty unpaved roads of the Yukon. 

The day was long. One of those days that your memory just doesn't bother to hold on to. We drove about 8 hours straight. The scenery was of endless pine forest in all directions stretching for thousands of miles. If we’d been dropped there on day one it would’ve been a spectacle, but after a couple of weeks of this, it appeared monotone and bland. Steph slept a lot of the journey, despite the bumpy nature of the rocky dirt road. I couldn’t look away from the road too much anyway, needing to constantly keep the car out of ditches and huge pot holes in the gravel.

At around 4pm we suddenly pulled in to one of the coolest locations on earth. Dawson.

        Dawson was one of the few places i’d pre-booked us accommodation, and the only place on the trip where we’d stay in a hotel. The Westmark in Dawson is a beautiful hotel, spanning a couple of streets, and in fitting with the rest of the town, had wooden walls of washed blues, greens and reds. 

The town of Dawson was like a beautiful treat, a marvelous reward at the end of a long vast journey. The streets, which are nothing more than dirt and sand, where straddled by wooden boardwalks. The buildings, originals everywhere you looked, reminded me of every western i’d ever watched, except less gritty and more beautiful. It had a feeling of potential, like everyone in town was either seeking adventure or living one. 

After getting a feel for the hotel room, we went strolling around town and found a quaint pub with a lovely outdoor beer garden. The food was epic, and Steph had a fairly standard size plate of calamari, which produced anything but standard effects an hour later. We drank beer and wine in the sun, soaked up the ambiance and relaxed. 

        When we got up to leave, Steph complimented the waitress on how ridiculously pretty she was (as is Steph’s way), and we walked to the riverfront. Steph has a habit of getting overly full from food without actually consuming an incredible amount. She found herself learning over at right angles, hands on thighs, trying to right herself. 

“I need to lay down, i’m gonna vom.” 

“You serious??”

“No I mean it, its bad. I need to lay down now.”

We sat on the grass, Steph on her back whilst I rubbed her stomach, trying to alleviate the symptoms. Eventually she began to feel better and we were in fits of giggles joking around like teenagers. I walked to the river and watched as an old fashioned steam boat fought against the mighty current of the Yukon river. 

We walked back to the hotel at 10 ish and had a cocktail, then Steph went to take a bath and I decided on a final stroll, this time with the camera, wanting a record of these cool old frontier streets.
        Dawson now has a small population, even smaller in the winter, when the snow comes in and the world turns to almost perpetual darkness. This was the Yukons capital, until it was moved to Whitehorse in the 1950's, due to being missed off the official Alaskan Highway by 300 miles. When the gold rush hit in 1896 the town grew and became it's centre, two years later its population hit 40,000, then by 1899 it had declined to 8,000. During the 70's the population was down to just 66 or 700 hundred, but thanks to a connecting road through the mountains to Alaska (which we'd hit the next day) and some tourism, its sitting pretty now.

        This is where it all went sour.

I ambled down the stairs at the front of the hotel, and halfway down misplaced my flip flop. My right ankle turned inward at a rather odd angle, as I began a pain filled fall toward the stairs. I heard one, two, three and then a loud fourth and final crack as the ankle continued it's bend towards my leg, an area of the body it has no right to shake hands with and get to know in any way. 

I went down the flight of steps into the dirt, and made sounds that didn’t make a lot of sense in English, but snakes might have recognized. The pain was immense. 

I eventually got back up and attempted to put my foot on the ground. I struggled, but could do it. The sensible part of my brain was shouting at me to hobble up and get ice. The ‘man voice’ inside my head told me to walk it off. The sun would be going behind the hills soon (being about 11pm!) and I wanted the light. So, in my stupidity, I hobbled the length of the town and back, taking photos and of course, missed the light. 

        As I got back to the room, Steph had already climbed into bed. 

“I had a bit of an accident,” I said. 

“What?!”

“Think i’ve broken my ankle.”

“Oh my god! Get onto the bed!, i'll get ice.”

        She jumped into action, thrusting a pillow beneath my legs, supporting it, and fetching ice to put on the joint. When I explained that I hadn’t returned immediately after the fall, she continued to treat me like a pro, but let me know I’d been a total dumb ass, which was of course completely accurate. 

The next morning we had a good drive, including loading onto a ferry to cross the Yukon river, and the a few hours through the mountains, where we would finally hit our target and cross the Alaskan Border. My ankle got bigger and bigger through the night, and by morning I was practically unable to move it at all. It was an issue for two reasons. The first being that it was my driving foot. The second, and more troublesome issue being that in about 2 weeks we’d be hiking for days on end in the wilderness of the Denali backcountry, with bears and wolves at our heels. Not ideal.

         Putting these worries to the back of our heads, we rose in the early Dawson light, and headed for our Yukon river ferry crossing, we would reach Alaska today. That was the main thing.

Come back next week for part 7, into Alaska. Check out more photos at www.howlandphotography.com and support us on Facebook. Hit the store at the top of this page for prints!

Portrait of a Road Trip: Alaska Part 5 - Whitehorse

        We got up early and packed up the tent. Our camp for the evening had been ideal, a $10 self registration site, empty but for one old couple in their camper. There had been enough fallen branches around to keep a fire going for hours, and the solitary drop toilet shed had done it's smelly job. 

All packed up, we got back on the road, knowing we had a short drive (comparably, it was still a nice 100 miles) to whitehorse, which promised a bed, a roof, a shower and luxuries like restaurants. We hadn’t particularly missed these things, in fact I recall thinking at the time of arrival how I hadn’t once wished for anything even when in the most remote areas of the Yukon. However, now that we were presented with the amenities, we felt like even the most basic service was something special. 

        We arrived in Whitehorse and pulled up to the privately run Beez Kneez hostel i’d booked months earlier. We were greeted by Nancy and her Husky, Bertha. The hostel was not at all what i’d expected it to be. A lady called Dona Sun, a farm gal from Saskatchewan that moved to Whitehorse in 1991 had essentially converted her house into a hostel. It was intimate and friendly, though I couldn’t help feeling like we were in someone else’s house. 

I’d booked a ‘cabin’ for a night, which turned out to be a little shed in the rear garden. It was cute and private, plus there were clean bathrooms and a working shower in the house, so Steph and I felt more than happy. As was the case on a number of occasions on our trip, we had gone a good while without a shower and we were genuinely bouncing with excitement and the idea. We dropped our packs in the shed and got clean. It felt like a layer of dirt literally peeled off in there, we emerged new people. 

        Whitehorse is a pretty big town, considering where it is. A completely isolated location in the middle of the yukon wilderness, the closest city to it is Edmonton, 1,994km away. It has a population of just under 30,000 people, which makes up 75% of the total Yukon population.  

It was early, so we spent the day taking in the sights of the town. We had an epic meal at Klondike Rib & Salmon Barbecue, which is a great comfort food eatery in one of the town's historic buildings, full of artifacts and great old photos from the goldrush. I ate too much. It really wasn’t my fault, they had bread pudding on their desert menu, and it wasn’t small. Afterwards we went to a big camping outlet on one of the main streets and bought a few new pieces of kit, then headed to the cabin/shed for the night.

We’d been in the cabin discussing the trip so far, the plan for the net few days etc. Time flew along and without realizing it we’d somehow ended up staying up till 11.50pm. The reason it surprised us was because, amazingly, it was still light outside!

       In summer, Whitehorse gets sunsets at around 11.30pm, and it stays pretty light afterwards too. I went out into the garden and couldn’t believe it. It was such a strange and alien sensation to be able to see around, in light you would expect at maybe 7pm, at midnight. I suddenly got excited, realizing that this was not our most northerly point of our trip, not even close. 

Next up, would be Dawson. 500km almost directly north. The last true frontier town. Tune in next time.

        

Portrait of a Road Trip: Alaska Part 4 - Into the Yukon

        

        The morning we woke in Liard marked a fresh stage in our trip. True frontier land. We we already five hundred miles from Dawson Creek, the next town south. The next town to hit would be Whitehorse, another four hundred miles into the Yukon territory. Knowing full well that the day was going to be long and road oriented, we took the liberty of a morning dip in the springs. The refreshing water woke us up and gave us a buzz that lasted for hours. So perfect were the springs that it took me a while to pull myself away. 

That day the plan was to head for Watson lake. The guide books had informed us of a town (a street with a shop and a cafe) on the lake, which meant a potential camp location for the night. It didn't quite work out that way. 

        The drive to Watson was relatively painless. A mix of tarmac road and gravel stretches which went on for twenty to thirty miles at a time. I constantly worried about the state of our poor chevy, thinking at any time we could hit a pot hole that would do some real damage and leave us stranded in (literally) the middle of nowhere. No matter how many hours we drove that niggling worry wouldn’t disappear. It was around this time that we passed a rare vehicle coming the other way, and a stray kamikaze gravel piece made a bid for our windshield. The impact made us both jump, and left a neat crack, perhaps three inches wide, in an annoying position in Steph’s eye line. 

        Despite the screen annoyance, we hit Watson as expected and headed straight for a campsite, three miles out of town, annoyingly. In a town the size of a street, with endless wilderness in all directions, the nearest they could situate a tent site was three miles away. 

        Back in town we ventured into the ‘local department store’, more out of fascination than need. Inside the store, which amounted to three moderately sized rooms filled with postcards, fishing gear and clothes, which resembled what imagine our parents had encountered when shopping, in the 1980’s. 

       After we perused in amazement, we heard a couple shopping, mother and daughter. At one point I heard the lady at the till point out how cool her new purchases were. “Ah…. fashion” uttered the mother. I employed just about every ounce of self control at my disposal to keep my laughter inside. Towns like this we’re few and far between on the Alaska Highway, the handful that exist do so in a strange state of time-freeze. The priorities of the folks in these frontier towns are most certainly a far stretch from your average. 

      What puts Watson Lake on the map is the forest. Not a forest    of trees, one made purely out of signs. Started in 1942 by a guy who got a little homesick, the first sign popped up, signaling the distance to the constructor's home town in Illinois, other people added their home towns, and it just carried on for the next 74 years. The total number of signs now in the forest stands at 100,000, and growing. 

We headed to the only food establishment on the street, ‘Kathy’s Kitchen’, which was surprisingly phenomenal. Then, mulling over the situation in town (that being the lack of anything worth seeing and a distinct lack of scenery) we made the decision to push on up the road. If we could make a few more hours, we’d have an easy trip the following day to Whitehorse. 

      Throwing the tent back into the car, we flew along the road, which snaked in and out of the Yukon territory for a couple of hundred miles. After a few hours, as the sun began to make its way down, we pulled off the road into a self registration site. Empty. 

We got a fire going, and enjoyed an evening of smores, hot dogs and music by the flames. Teslin Lake ran along the site looking beautiful. It would do nicely. Next morning, we’d hit the first real piece of civilization in a thousand miles. Whitehorse. 

 

      See more photos and buy merchandise on the links at the top of this page For part 5 check in next week!

Portrait of a Road Trip: Alaska Part 3 - Northern Canada

       Jasper was a pretty nice drive. Up through the rockies with endless forests, mountains and lakes. We had a night to kill halfway, and pulled into a little camping area which had some great thick trees, perfect for the Stingray…

     

         We slept well with the stars out in full sparkle through the canopy. The stingray was proving to be well worth the money. It let us sleep well off the ground, safe from prying animals, and was ludicrously comfy. After a chilled out night, I woke before Steph and climbed down the ladder to the camp area below, took out the grill and kitchen gear from the car and cooked up some french toast. The coffee press (one of two coffee making devices I got at REI) got another work out too. Essentially a french press within a thermos, it worked well, to retain heat once the coffee was brewed, but I preferred the simpler and smaller device we’ll meet in the backcountry later in the trip. 

After waking Steph and having a small feast, we hit the road and headed for Jasper. The drive took us to the northern most point of the rockies, and then into a huge campsite. On arrival we were once again warned that 2 bears where currently in the site, and as such, we should be sure to follow the normal ‘bear aware’ precautions. No shit. 

We threw up the tent and made our way immediately into town and found to my delight, the ‘Jasper Brewing - Brew Pub & Eatery’ was on the small and quaint main street. We had a couple of delicious beers whilst eating a monster burger (I should point out Steph had a salad) and peering at the mountains in front of us. 

I got the impression Jasper would be a nice place to spend some time, a lot like Glacier and Gladstone had been, but this was a short stop on a mammoth 3,500 mile drive to Alaska, we couldn’t hang around.

The next day we hit the road and made it to one of the most anticlimactic locations on the trip. Though it gave us a buzz due to its status as being ‘Mile 0’ on the Alaska Highway, Dawson Creek is a dog awful place. It’s highlights include a KFC, and a Frozen Yoghurt store. Just awful. 

We stayed in a motel that night, and made use of it to wash clothes and restock the gear in the car, which had gotten a little disorganized from road life. 

We had a good nights sleep, watched a little television, which we’d not seen in weeks, and then hit the road early the next day. 

This day marked the real transition from normalcy to crazy, from civilization to barren and from people to no people. After we left Dawson City the road began to vanish. It turns out that not all that many people venture further north than this, and the wise men in Canada’s transport department seem to have figured roads aren't all that important up here. They went from smooth black, to rough, to sand, to this.

         We dealt with this for about 9 hours, maybe ten. Along the way we encountered one roadside cafe who’s owner, an elderly lady who sold sandwiches, coffee and machetes, told us of the crazy folk who travel the roads up here. Apparently a couple of years prior a man on a bus had randomly whipped out a machete and beheaded half of his fellow passengers. I sipped my coffee smiling, then got bacon the car and made sure to pop the door lock down.

We’d grabbed a paper in Dawson Creek which had on its front a huge story about a monster fire on the Alaskan Highway. Later in the day we came across it for ourselves and we were awestruck at the power of nature and its capacity for destruction.   

         

        Towards the end of the day we were getting pretty tired. We found a tiny gas station and I got chatting to a couple who were biking the highway from Alaska back south. I enquired if there was a campsite near Muncho Lake, which we were less than 30 minutes from.

‘Sure, its cheap and nice enough, but go a little further and you hit Liard Hot Springs. They’re beautiful and theres a campsite there. If you stay on their site you get free entry to the springs.’

We we sold, so we made a dash for Liard. It took about an hour, but as the sun was about to fall away, we found the site. A black bear dashed into the bushes as we turned into the grounds, the first bear we’d seen so far, oddly. 

Liard Springs are absolutely beautiful. Such a natural, relaxing and peaceful site. Being so far from any town meant it had hardly any visitors, but considering this, it was remarkably well maintained. There’s no way around it, it takes a good four hundred mile drive to get to this place from the nearest town. This is desolate country. Beautiful, wild and desolate country. 

After a day in the car, the spring was phenomenal. We sat and read books and relaxed as the sun went down through the trees. We were right on the border of the Yukon territory, and would hit it the next day. But for now, it was time to relax.      

Check in next week as we head into the Yukon, and be sure to hit the links above this post to howlandphotography.com!

Portrait of a Road Trip: Alaska Part 2 - The Rocky Mountains

     Glacier remains one of the top places I’d like to revisit. We were welcomed to the park by a beautiful winding road through towering peaks which reached into the sky and vanished. The steep inclines are what catch your attention first. The road almost seems to dive into a valley in which you’re overlooked by epic ancient gods of rock. 

We pulled into a small campground and found to our delight that there were available plots left, free wood and trails leading out of the area in almost every direction. Bear warnings were everywhere. The ranger explained, as I paid the ludicrously low camping fee, that bears had been spotted very close to the grounds, and one sighting actually put a large bear in amongst the tents. We hadn’t seen any bears yet on the trip, but we’d already gotten into excellent ‘bear aware’ habits, even so, we would be extra cautious here. 

The Next day when we awoke to the fresh Glacier air, we decided on a nice hike up along river trail. One of the fellow campers had given us a fairly enthusiastic speech regarding the trail and promised us quite a view at the top. 

It was an understatement to say we were excited about the day. So far we’d had a lot of road time, and some nice relaxing days, but this was our first chance to get out and throw on the hiking shoes. I was also particularly excited to try out my new bear bells, much to the annoyance of Steph. To say that she didn’t care for the bells would do a disservice to the level of irritation she expressed. 

“You won’t be sorry if a bear pops out in front of us” I countered.

“I’m not wearing one” came the staunch retort. 

In the end, I wore two. 

The walk was phenomenal, we followed the track alongside the river, which being filled with glacial runoff managed to continuously fan us with a cool breeze. Starting with a fairly slow incline and plenty of space, it turned into a far more winding and narrow path. As we approached the top, exhilarated by the scenery, smells and warm sun, we broke through a few more bushes and came out on a hill of solid rock. Behind this rose the side of a few mountains, one of which was home to a superb waterfall. I think this may well have been the moment the trip became real for me. This was a new location, a different landscape to anywhere I’d been before and the scenery was stunning. I could have sat up there for days. 

Instead, we ate some sandwiches Steph had packed that morning, took in the the views and Steph even took a short nap in the sun. We ambled back down to the campsite and spent the evening cooking on a big warm wood fire pit, then turned in for the night. 

The following day was an exciting prospect. We were heading to Lake Louise. 

Now, if you’ve never been here, it’s one of those locations that you will never be able to describe to anyone and feel like you did a good enough job. The color of that Lake is otherworldly. It literally looks like seven million trucks filled with food coloring accidentally veered into the waters. 

A lot of tourists make their way to this area, but fortunately, like a lot of American parks, the vast majority of visitors see ‘The Great Outdoors’ from the safety of their RV window, so once you find a trail that goes up a hill, you gain some peace and quiet. 

We climbed the trail for an hour or so until we got a nice view of the lake below, and with a little help from a telephoto lens, I snapped a nice shot of a family kayaking hundreds of meters below in an ocean of turquoise.

We continued our assent, and it seemed to hit us harder than either of us expected. Maybe because it was only our second, maybe we were feeling the effects of the previous day. Either way, by the time we reached the summit we were done! Luckily, as if the mountain gods had felt our pain, a quintessential english treat lay in wait for us at the top. Ladies and gentlemen, there is a tea house atop the mountain. My hope restored in mankind, Steph and I spent a good bit of time relaxing over a ‘good brew’. 

After the surreal tea hut experience we retired to a perch by a small pond and Steph lay down on my lap. It’s worth pointing out that Steph’s feelings towards rodents, especially Canadian Ground Squirrels quite closely mimics her feelings toward fish. She lay down, fighting the urge to keep a close lookout for stealthy attacks and tried to relax.

“They’re more scared of you than you are of them, don’t worry” I blabbed on, uttering similar advise to that nonsense I’d given by what has become ‘big fish’ lake.

She eventually relaxed, and I sat taking in the beautiful scene, when out of the blue, a moderately sized squirrel flew up onto my lap, and put its paw on Steph, as if checking to see if she was okay. After a split second (during which a thought process along the lines of that’s a small hand, must’ve occurred) Steph reacted. The ground Squirrel did not return. 

That night we hadn’t planned a camp site, but we were aware of a few scattered along the road north. Essentially we were heading straight through the mountains to Jasper. We cruised that evening until we found a site that had just one other person in it, a clear sign that we were progressing ever further north. 

Come back for part 3 next week for our journey up into the Yukon, getting ever closer to our Alaskan goal. For more photo’s visit www.howlandphotography.com

Portrait of a Road Trip - Alaska: Part 1

     Border Patrol heading into Canada. What a welcoming set of uniformed ambassadors they are! No fierce accusatory stares, no overly stupid questions and no prolonged experience. We got a “Welcome to Canada”, then some good advice on how to best find our target for the next night. 

  We were heading to Gladstone Provincial Park, which is essentially a lovely warm lake just over the border. As we rocked up to the campsite, I had my eyes peeled for my spot. Generally we hadn’t booked many places to stay on this trip, most of the nights were marked on our itinerary as ‘find campsite near x’. This one was different. We weren’t quite in the wilderness yet. 

Southern Canada is a very popular location for all kinds of tourists, from families with small kids and RV’s to hardened backcountry hikers. Good locations are booked early, just like the big parks in the mainland states. I’d booked a plot here months ahead of time and felt a nudge from my ego when the ranger said “well you guys have the best position in the camp ground, with your own private path down to the beach.” 

The camp grounds that were coming up in the next few weeks would get smaller and eventually vanish, at times we’d be on both the sides of mountains and the sides of dirt roads, but for now, this was posh. 

     We had been using the new REI two man ground tent for the first week of the trip, but now we were in the forest and we had trees to allow me to set up my Stingray. Back in the early months of planning the trip i’d been aimlessness perusing through Instagram and came across some phenomenal images of people in tents that hung up in the trees. The experiences people were having using them were crazy, and as an added bonus, it meant they could camp anywhere with trees, regardless of the ground type. If it was rocky, uneven, wet, no matter! I went on the website and found a couple of guys in England had designed it, and the company was really taking off. I clicked the order button. 

We spent a full day on the lake sunbathing and relaxing. Steph has what she would call an aversion to fish. It’s more like an dislike of not knowing whats under you. I went out for a swim to explore the fauna and made a valiant attempt to persuade her there was nothing in the water to worry about. In truth, I genuinely saw nothing whilst snorkeling around and felt pretty confident in my analysis. 

“Honestly you’ll be fine, there’s nothing in there, and its so warm.”

“Mmmmmhmmm,” came the uncertain response. 

“Just come in and paddle?”

“Yeah maybe later” she said, settling down to catch more rays. 

“I promise its fine. I’m gonna head up to the car and get some water and chips.”

I got about twenty feet up the path before a young child screamed out from around ten feet off the shoreline “Dad!! There’s a massive fish in here!! It’s massive!!”

I sheepishly continued walking.

“Anything you wanna tell me?” Steph shouted.

“Nope!” I replied, speeding up my walk.

    The next morning we arose from a nights sleep in the Stingray. It had lived up to all expectations. We were up in the trees, laying looking at the stars. Absolutely amazing and unexpectedly comfortable too. 

We needed a shower. As we had a lovely warm lake right by our tent we decided to use it. We bathed in the fresh water and tested out our biodegradable eco friendly camping shampoo. It pleased me. The lake was exactly what we needed, we felt revitalized and ready for the road.

Today was a long day. We had to reach and set up camp in Glacier National Park. Not the far more known American version, but the far quieter and rugged Canadian version. The Rocky Mountains seem to provide an almost endless stream of parks for thousands of miles. 

It took a good eight hours to get that far north, and as we travelled we could sense the traffic thinning and the people changing. There was a tangible feeling of being north, even this early in the trip. The American tourists who like to nip across the border for a quick weekend had vanished, and everyone we saw looked pretty equipped for hiking and mountain fun. 

Glacier National Park is a small park as far as North American national parks go, but what it lacks in square miles it makes up for in height. The rugged, unusually steep mountains here are truly breathtaking, and the hikes here are as beautiful as they are varied. 

When we arrived at a camp ground we managed to find a plot, and realized that or the first time we were in proper bear country. The camp ground had more signs than I deemed normal regarding the dangers of bear attacks, and the ranger warned us upon entry as to the recent bears within the camp ground itself. Now I’d prepped for this, with my bear bells and powerful bear spray, but still, it got me thinking. 

We had a couple of nights here and a couple of days to explore, but that first night, we just got our wood supply and settled down in the tent for the night. As we were sat drinking hot chocolate by the fire, I realized there was a lot of smoke from everyone’s fires gathering in the valley and had an idea. I threw my tripod on my back and heading up the river until I found a crossing. Aware that I wasn't prepared in any way for bears, had no spray and didn't even bring a light, I worked fast. 

The valley was absolutely beautiful. The campsite itself remained hidden from view in the thick trees, but the smoke was sat just above them, an unmistakable giveaway of human presence. The air smelled like pine and smoke, and the sun was just dipping below the horizon behind me.

The shot I got that night set the tone for the next few weeks of our Canadian stint. Which we’ll come back to in Part 2. Stay tuned…

Alaska (Intro)

          By car. It had to be. It’s been my preferred method of exploration my whole life. Pack the tent? Of course. Hiking boots? Yup. Book the backcountry permits? Totally, but lets have the freedom to get anywhere. Thats what a road trip for 6 weeks allows. 

        The whole thing had started in April of 2015, with an old friend of mine, who I’d not seen in years, asking out of the blue “you wanna to go to Alaska with me this summer?” Now I’m a practical person but my gut took over and I replied “yep!” without any hesitation at all. 

We spent a total of three months planning the expedition. Itinerary, gear, food and safety. We wanted a good plan, but not too strict that it left no flexibility. I spent a lot of money in REI, and got a few nice new gadgets to take too. 

On July 2nd we headed west from Chicago. The mission, to drive to Alaska, spend 5 weeks exploring and then drive back. It would turn out to be a 10,000 mile road trip and would blow our expectations out of the water. But here on July 2nd, it was all about getting there. 

After 2 days of driving, we dropped into one of my favorite places, Yellowstone, and had a look around before moving onto Washington State and crossing the Canadian border at a place called Gladstone. The provincial park is set around an unusually warm lake, and after a week on the road, it was nice to set up camp for a couple of days and unwind by some water. I also got to play with my new toy, the Stingray Tensile tent you see above, more on that later. 

So this is where I leave you today. From this point forward I got to see some pretty fantastic places. Unusual, desolate, and disconnected from civilization. I’ll be taking you on the journey in the next ten weeks or so, and sharing some insights into the photography work I managed to accomplish on the way. Watch this space!