North to Alaska*

Since it’s autumn already, we have found that most campgrounds are closed.  Some state and provincial parks are open year round, but they have no services.  That does not bother us, as long as we are prepared with sufficient water, power and our tanks are not full.  We have discovered that you can dry camp most anywhere in Alaska.  “Dry camping” is another word for parking an RV for the night without any hookups, like boondocking. 

We were dry camping in Tok, Alaska, and had an informative and entertaining chat with the local librarian.  We returned to the trailer to find water everywhere.  Not exactly a flood, but the fresh water tank indicator read zero.  We figured the faucet got dislodged on rough roads and the pump switch had been left in the “on” position.  It took some time and several towels to clean up.  And one of the problems with a very small, efficiently organized interior space is, there are few places to hang up wet items.  At least with the heater on the towels would dry … I thought.  

At about 4 am the heat went out.  It woke me up, both the colder air and the silence of the heater not going on and off.  We have a small electric heater, but had limited battery power and no shore power, which is the term for an outside electrical connection, so we managed for the morning and then headed for Fairbanks.  Since we needed electric, we found a hookup at a park that had not yet closed, where they have ice art and other events in winter.  It was nearly deserted and not at all scenic, but the price was right.  The host only took cash.  We’ve heard that several times, and it’s an adjustment for us, since we rarely use cash.   But some people up here don’t use anything else!  Our host also directed us to a local place to eat, a bar called the Oasis where they played heavy metal music and shot pool.  We had fish battered in a locally-brewer IPA, and ate with our elbows on the table, attempting to blend in with the eccentric mixed bag that is Alaskan residents. 

We found a Toyota dealership for some routine maintenance on the truck.  We also had the tires filled with nitrogen at a local filling station.  While there, we learned that the first snow of the season had already happened on the Brooks Range, which is farther north and west near the Dalton Highway.  We were advised to rethink going there. 

One of the mechanics, named Brian, had considerable experience with RVs and offered to take a look at the trailer’s heater when he got off work.  Having some hours before he would be available, we went to the Museum of the North.  The campus of the University of Alaska at Fairbanks houses the Museum of the North, an impressive, modern building.  There are two distinct collections, showcasing both the history and art of Alaska.  The art area did not look large at first but there was a lot to see, from oil paintings to hand-beaded Native American clothing. 

We did not even get to the historical side because we got a call from Brian saying he was ready.  After examining the trailer, Brian was of the opinion that a circuit board was bad and would have to be replaced.  He said it would take days, in fact into the following week, to get the part.  I was not crazy about spending days in Fairbanks, but we were prepared to roll with it.  Brian suggested we change locations to a campground run by a friend of his, where he has an apartment, so he could have his own tools handy and test the system more thoroughly.

In the end the problem with the heater turned out to be as simple as a fuse that was not in place properly, once again likely a casualty of the road conditions.  So it was an easy fix and we had plentiful, comforting heat once again.  We were most grateful to Brian, since he spent considerable time on the testing and even made a house call.  

We have found that in this part of the world, once you get people talking, they will go on and on.  I think it comes from living in such isolation.  Even for solitary types, it gets to you.  Also, most people up here are originally from somewhere else, and they all have stories to tell.  On this trip, we had long, interesting conversations – sometimes quite one-sided – with:

- A librarian in her ‘70s who has moved to Alaska from Colorado and is building her own house, meanwhile living without power or running water, in defiance of her exasperated grown son;

- A campground owner and sometime biker girl who works as a remote IT consultant;

- A mechanic who, after a canoeing accident, walked barefoot with serious injuries for 7-8 hours in 50-degree temperatures;

- A campground host who used to raise bison and trained as an auctioneer, though he eventually sold real estate. 

Though some said a trip up the Dalton Highway was inadvisable, we went forth, to see what there was and determine along the way how far we would go.

  

*From the Johnny Horton 1960 popular song:
“North to Alaska, we go north, the rush is on!”

     - Though some have apparently heard it as: 
    “North to Alaska, we go north, to Russia’s own!”