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These are the Chronicles of Famous Surf Writer Ben Marcus and his trip into the Wilds of the Alaskan Frontier.
Latest Update:
October 12, 2000

1:32 PM ALASKA TIME ACROSS FROM EILISION AIR FORCE BASE.

I'm parked along the sketchy Richardson Highway, a few miles out of Fairbanks, across from an Air Force Base, safely parked along the side of ditch where I should be, but not in the ditch, where I found myself earlier today.

I am across from Eilison Air Force Base, which is clean and orderly, but ghostly. There isn't anything moving except for an A10 Warthog taxing slowly along. Now there are two of them.

Now that I have decided where I'm going, and thinking that I might be able to get there without crashing, I feel like stopping, watching the fighter jets and writing a little about this morning, and my decision that it was time to get out of Alaska, and fast.

This van is not made for winter driving in Alaska. In fact, it couldn't be more awkward and warthogish. It is top-heavy, front-wheel drive and I don't have the proper tires. That wasn't a problem until I reached Fairbanks, where I was a little surprised to find I'd all of a sudden become a hazard to navigation, and myself.

While coming around a highway offramp at around 10 MPH, I all of sudden lost control of the van, skidded and aimed directly for a lightpole. I missed it by the Grace of Allah, but went into a ditch at the side of the road. I thought for a minute the van was going to flip over, and that got the old heart pumping a little. When I ended up in a snowy ditch, unscratched, I couldn't believe I'd lost it completely going maybe 10 MPH. I was driving cautiously, but not cautiously enough.

It took me a while to get out. The van would grab only so much in the lowest gear and in reverse, but I had fun successfully getting myself out of a bonehead maneuver that could have really been serious. I wasn't being reckless or stupid, I just got a wake-up call as to how slippery a road can get, and how cautious someone has to be, and how ill-suited my vehicle is for Alaska in October.

But that little plow into the ditch convinced me it was time to get out of Alaska. It's getting too late in the year and I'm in the wrong vehicle. Maybe different tires would help, but it's time to go.

After sliding into the ditch I slid around Fairbanks for a while, and considered both of my options: Take the high road to Tok, or the low road back to Anchorage, then up to Tok. I wondered about the high road to Tok, worried that I was too far north and that it would be unsafe for me to drive it, the way the van had no traction. I knew I could make the road back to Anchorage, but I wondered about the drive out of Anchorage, through the high mountains to Glenallen and then to Tok.

I asked around at a gas station but they weren't much help, so I decided to drive toward Tok until it wasn't safe.

Turns out the highway to Tok is better than the city roads in Fairbanks and I can drive okay, if I go cautiously. You just don't want to hit the brakes up here. They don't do any good.

A fighter just took off from the Air Force Base. Not a Warthog. Not sure what kind of jet it was, but it sure was loud. Maybe an F-15. That's what the Air Force flies. I'll bet they have the right tires.

I am 202 miles from Tok, but what I've seen so far appears to be level and safe. I wouldn't want to get into a skid like that on a big downhill.

Here goes a Warthog taking off. Kind of graceful on takeoff, nearly silent. The engines make a weird, pleasing noise, like an electric engine. What a cool, very deadly plane.

I hate to admit it because they're war eagles of death and all that, but there is something about a military aircraft. I saw it on the Independence, and I'm seeing it here.

Anyway, I just went outside to feel that nice, cold Arctic Alaska air. Through binoculars I could see those Warthogs off in the distance, pairing up and Warthog-dogging around in pairs, off where the sky is turquoise. They might be practicing dog-fighting, but I don't think so. The A10 is a tank buster, a low ground assault plane. That must be why the engine is so quiet. They have to sneak up on tanks and troops on the ground, and if they were as loud as that F-15, they'd be sitting ducks. Or the sitting ducks they were hoping for would scatter. Eiher way, it's a cool plane.

Two more just took off. Lucky stiffs.

How damn much fun would it be to be the pilot of a Warthog, flying around through the mountains and glaciers of Alaska, on a day like today?

Oh, and defending freedom, of course. I wonder if this Air Force Base is always this active, or if these planes are warming up for another ruckus in the Middle East. Israel and Palestine are about to go at it full out, apparently, and with the ship getting blown up in Aden, we might jump in, too.

The Threat Board outside of the compound said ThreatCom: Normal. But I wondered, after that boat-bomb attack on the ship in Aden.

I actually tried to drive onto the base, and almost pulled it because the guard waved me through. I saw him looking at my bumper with concern, though, so I stopped.

I turned around, had a brief chat with the guard, and now here I am, parked on the side of the road, watching airplanes take off.

Anyway, I'm on my way to Tok, and out of Alaska. I'm a little worried about the roads, because I think I'm going to be higher than Fairbanks. That's what I don't get. The road coming in here from the Denali North Star Hotel was much higher elevation than the street roads in Fairbanks, but I was driving at nearly normal speed and hardly slid at all.

I didn't have any problems up at altitude, even when I parked on a sharp ascent to pick up my boot.

Yes, I found my boot. Happy happy, joy joy. After a short, sleepless night, I left the Denali North Star around 8:00 AM and retraced my tracks, scanning the side of the road for my beloved boot.

(By the way. I had left a plastic water bottle in the van the night before. It was frozen solid in the morning)

Kind of frustrating, scanning the side of the road for the boot, because every hundred yards or so there was a chunk of ice that had fallen from a car. They were all black or brown and about the size of a boot. I saw dozens of them. None were my boot.

Along the way I saw an Eskimo-looking guy huffing along the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere. I stopped and gave him a ride. His name was Chester and he was Eskimo, in that shy, uncommunicative kind of way. We talked about this and that. I told him about my boot and he told me about weather that gets to 65 below zero, and how to deal with it: "You don't breathe too hard, because you could burn your lungs."

I dropped him off in Nenana. He wished me luck with the boot.

I stopped at both of the places I remembered stopping the night before, but no boot. I poked around in the bushes a little bit, thinking a bear might have dragged it a little ways before gagging, but no boot.

While driving up a fairly steep ascent, I remembered that I had also stopped along a steep ascent the night before. I saw a brown clump on the side of the road, but this brown clump was my boot.


Das Boot. Boot Hill. You get the picture.

Happy happy, joy joy. Might not sound like a big deal to you, but it was to me. I had my boots back. I think the boot froze during the night, because I tore out one of the eyelets when I tried to lace it. But it's still working.

So, I found something, and nearly lost something. And I've made a decision. Time to get out of Alaska. I'm supposed to be back n Sequim on October 16, but I don't know if I'm going to make it.

Just wanted to write this to clear my head and the nervousness. I almost screwed the pooch an hour ago, took out a lightpole and wrecked my van But I didn't. I have my other boot, and I'm getting out of Alaska. Tok by tonight, most likely, and then beyond. Maybe I'll catch the ferry at Haines, maybe I'll drive all the way out, back down the Cassiar and get the ferry at Prince Rupert. Or maybe I'll go way over and come back by way of Montana or something.

Not sure what I'm doing. I go where the four winds take me.

20:43 ALASKA TIME ROOM 40 OF YOUNG'S MOTEL, TOK, ALASKA

Tok. Shit, I'm back in Tok.

Naw, I'm glad to be here, in one piece and all. It's nice to know where I am going now, and things are looking familiar.

I am in Room 40. Just had a croissant BLT and now I'm eating some Atomic Fireballs. I'm watching CNN with Christian Amanpour and Ehud Barak talking about Israel/Palestine. Looks like the Shiite is about to hit the fan.

I can't decide who is more irritating: Israeli's or Muslims.

No, it's Muslims.

Anyway, I'm watching CNN and playing gin online with Bonnie, a Palestinian-born girl who lives in Arizona. She's Palestinian but Christian, so she's likeable.

The Air Van.

I got here in the evening after many uneventful driving hours from that Air Force Base near Fairbanks. Along the way I saw a strange airplane being loaded up off the highway. I took a photo, but the pilot thought I was a government revenuer or something. I explained what I was doing, and he explained that his plane was called an Air Van. He uses it to fly cargo, and was taking some kind of chemical-Ferric Chloride?-To a gold mine 37 air miles away.


The Cargo Area of the air van.

It was blowing hard and cold on the airfield, but the plane got away okay.

A little farther on, I was buying some reindeer sausage at a smokehouse when I saw a guy wearing Army fatigues. He had a badge with wings on it that said he was a Captain.

I asked if he flew A10's.

He said, "No. I'm a flight surgeon."

I said, "Those Warthog guys look like they're having fun."

He said, "Oh they are, believe me. Lucky bastards."

He was envious, like me. He wanted to be up there, too, and he was a Captain. That left an impression.

Chewing on reindeer sausage, I drove on and on and on, through empty countryside. Lots of snow and trees and ice and not many cars or people. Having seen Juneau and Anchorage and Kenai and Fairbanks, I realized you could take almost all of civilized Alaska and fit all of it easily into the Santa Clara Valley, with room to spare.

There just isn't a whole lot up here besides trees and mountains and snow and rivers and fish and wildlife. Most of Alaska is empty and wide open and that makes my heart swell with hope. I'm coming up here next summer with a Humvee or a Ford F350. Off-road is where the action and adventure is.

This was just a probe.

 


PREVIOUS ENTRIES
October 12, 2000
October 11, 2000
October 10, 2000
October 10, 2000
October 9, 2000
October 8, 2000
October 7, 2000
October 6, 2000
October 6, 2000
October 5, 2000
October 4, 2000
October 3, 2000
October 2, 2000
October 1, 2000
September 30, 2000
September 29, 2000
September 28, 2000
September 27, 2000
September 25, 2000
September 24, 2000
September 23, 2000
September 22, 2000
September 21, 2000
September 21, 2000

September 20, 2000
September 19, 2000
September 19, 2000
September 18, 2000
September 17, 2000
September 16, 2000
September 15, 2000
September 15, 2000
September 14, 2000
September 13, 2000
September 12, 2000
September 10, 2000
September 10, 2000
September 8, 2000

September 8, 2000

PHOTOS
October 1, 2000
October 1, 2000
September 27, 2000


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