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| AC'12 Day 15 travel route |
- Ellen
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Day 15 - Aug 18: Denali at Last!
The views today must have been spectacular (if the weather cooperated)! Travel north on the George Parks Highway brought the convoy to Denali National Park, home of Mt. McKinley. There are many names on this map that are so familiar to me: Susitna, Talkeetna, Willow.
I need to add that today the AC'12 Convoy stopped at the Alaska Veterans Memorial. It is located in Denali State Park (which lies adjacent to the National Park and SW of Cantwell). Pictures I have seen of the memorial show that it is pretty awesome.
- Ellen
- Ellen
Friday, August 17, 2012
Day 14 - Aug 17: On to Willow, Alaska
The AC'12 convoy worked their way westward today to the town of Willow. The convoy will not be going into Anchorage, so this is probably the closest point to Anchorage they will get. If I recall correctly, one of the sights they past today was the Matanuska Glacier.
The main convoy actually took a detour at Palmer to go over Hatcher Pass. There are some cool mines up there, and was a favorite of mine from when we lived in Alaska.
- Ellen
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| AC'12 Day 14 travel route |
- Ellen
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Day 13 - Aug 16: Chicken and Salmon
Today the convoy made their way southwest to Glennallen, Alaska. Mike called and said he was really excited to be back in Alaska. Last night in Chicken, they had a chicken meal with the townfolks. Tonight, he was getting ready to go have a salmon fest in Glennallen.
- Ellen
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| AC'12 Day 16 travel route |
While we were talking, he asked about what kind of viewing this blog was getting. As of today, the blog has had 2463 page views, not counting all the times I visit it. This is how the top audience countries breakdown:
All time viewing (country/pageviews)
US 1793
Canada 213
UK 144
Russia 111
Australia 37
Netherlands 19
Ireland 15
Argentina 11
S. Africa 11
Germany 9
Other countries that have shown up in daily counts include S. Korea and New Zealand. Besides country, I can get results based on the source URL (such as Facebook, etc.), search keywords, and even browser and device operating system counts! Kind of fun, in a nerdy sort of way.
- Ellen
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Day 12 - Aug 15: Why did the Chicken cross the road?
To see the AC'12 Convoy!
Ok, I'm sure that people in Chicken, Alaska, have heard about every chicken joke out there. The AC'12 convoy is probably dishing the chicken jokes out like crazy tonight, as this is their destination.
After leaving Dawson City, Yukon Territory, and the Yukon River behind them, the convoy headed up the Top of the World Highway to the Alaska/Canada border station. When we crossed in 1979, it wasn't much more than a shack.
From the border station, they continued to west to Jack Wade Junction. Here the convoy turned onto the Taylor Highway.
The distance traveled today was probably one of the shortest. It will give the convoy participants a chance to check out Chicken (pop 23).
- Ellen
Ok, I'm sure that people in Chicken, Alaska, have heard about every chicken joke out there. The AC'12 convoy is probably dishing the chicken jokes out like crazy tonight, as this is their destination.
After leaving Dawson City, Yukon Territory, and the Yukon River behind them, the convoy headed up the Top of the World Highway to the Alaska/Canada border station. When we crossed in 1979, it wasn't much more than a shack.
From the border station, they continued to west to Jack Wade Junction. Here the convoy turned onto the Taylor Highway.
The distance traveled today was probably one of the shortest. It will give the convoy participants a chance to check out Chicken (pop 23).
- Ellen
Day 11 - Aug 14: Dawson City Sights
Today's SPOT report:
The crew is camping at the Bonanza Gold Motel and RV Park. That's on the western edge of those dredge piles image I posted on Day 10. Bonanza Creek (formerly Rabbit Creek) was where gold was discovered in 1896.
First sight for the day was a trip up to the top of Midnight Dome. At the top is a view point. It must have been an awesome view of Dawson City, and of the Yukon and Klondike Rivers. The lower part of the drive passes through the gold fields.
The group headed into Dawson City next. They spend about 3 hours checking out the sights. I'm really looking foward to seeing pictures.
Late in the afternoon, they boarded the George Black Ferry, and headed across the Yukon. At this point, the highway becomes the Top of the World Highway.
That evening, they went back across into Dawson City. That made 4 crossings of the Yukon!
(Information gathered from SPOT satellite and map data, the Milepost, and Dawson City)
- Ellen
The crew is camping at the Bonanza Gold Motel and RV Park. That's on the western edge of those dredge piles image I posted on Day 10. Bonanza Creek (formerly Rabbit Creek) was where gold was discovered in 1896.
First sight for the day was a trip up to the top of Midnight Dome. At the top is a view point. It must have been an awesome view of Dawson City, and of the Yukon and Klondike Rivers. The lower part of the drive passes through the gold fields.
The group headed into Dawson City next. They spend about 3 hours checking out the sights. I'm really looking foward to seeing pictures.
Late in the afternoon, they boarded the George Black Ferry, and headed across the Yukon. At this point, the highway becomes the Top of the World Highway.
That evening, they went back across into Dawson City. That made 4 crossings of the Yukon!
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| Big Brother's Eye in the Sky |
(Information gathered from SPOT satellite and map data, the Milepost, and Dawson City)
- Ellen
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
A word from Robert Service
While the convoy takes in the sights of Dawson City, Yukon Territory, I thought I'd share one of Mike's favorite Robert Service poem's.
- Ellen
The Cremation of Sam McGee
by Robert Service (1874 - 1958)
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."
On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.
And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel to toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."
Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursed cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through the bone.
Yet 'taint being dead - it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."
A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.
There wasn't breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "you may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains."
Now a promise made is a dept unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed the load.
In the long, long night, by the firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows - O God! how I loathed the thing.
And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.
Till I came to the marge of Lake Labarge, and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."
And looked at it, and I thought a bit, and looked at my frozen chum;
Then "Here, " said I, with a sudden cry, "is my crema-tor-eum."
Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared - such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.
Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.
- Ellen
The Cremation of Sam McGee
by Robert Service (1874 - 1958)
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."
On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.
And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel to toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."
Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursed cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through the bone.
Yet 'taint being dead - it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."
A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.
There wasn't breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "you may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains."
Now a promise made is a dept unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed the load.
In the long, long night, by the firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows - O God! how I loathed the thing.
And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.
Till I came to the marge of Lake Labarge, and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."
And looked at it, and I thought a bit, and looked at my frozen chum;
Then "Here, " said I, with a sudden cry, "is my crema-tor-eum."
Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared - such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.
Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.
I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked;" ... then the door opened wide.
And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see for a mile, and he said: "Please close the door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm -
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make you blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sight,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked;" ... then the door opened wide.
And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see for a mile, and he said: "Please close the door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm -
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make you blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sight,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
Monday, August 13, 2012
Day 10 - Aug 13: Dawson, Service, London, and Gertie!
A short day brought the AC'12 convoy to Dawson City, Yukon Territory. Dawson City was a boom town during the gold fever era of the Yukon and Alaska gold rushes. It sits where the Klondike river empties into the Yukon river.
Part of Dawson City's claim to fame is the famous people that it attracted. It is here that Robert Service wrote his poems. Jack London passed through here on his way home from the gold fields. Calamity Jane paid Dawson a visit.
The convoy will take a rest day in Dawson City. It will give everyone a chance to explore this fascinating city. It was once the capital of Yukon Territory, until in the 50's it was moved to Whitehorse.
When ready, convoy participants will take the ferry across the Yukon River, and reassemble for the dash to Alaska.
- Ellen
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| Dredge piles along the Klondike River, just east of Dawson City, YT SPOT satellite imagery |
The convoy will take a rest day in Dawson City. It will give everyone a chance to explore this fascinating city. It was once the capital of Yukon Territory, until in the 50's it was moved to Whitehorse.
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| Milepost.com image |
- Ellen
Day 9 - Aug 12: The Arctic Circle
Today the AC'12 convoy made it to the Arctic Circle in the Yukon Territory. Mike said it was very cold up there. Everyone had lots of chances to take pictures, and they photographed each and every vehicle.
The terrain around there is rather interesting looking at it with SPOT satellite imagery. The rivers are very squiggly. The bright orange appears to be a recent fire. Along the top, the medium orange and gray is probably rock outcroppings. In the center, is an interesting rock outcropping that is nearly circular. It appears to be near the top of a mountain (perhaps an old volcano??). My photo interp skills are pretty rusty, though, so don't bank on this info. The Dempster Highway is Highway 5 on the right side.
After visiting the Arctic Circle, the convoy turned around and headed back down the Dempster Highway to Tombstone Territorial Park. This is about 45 miles north of the junction of the Dempster Highway with the Klondike Highway.
Tomorrow the convoy will travel to Dawson City. Mike and crew headed down there today as they needed to get a tire repaired. They are looking forward to a fun couple of rest days in Dawson City, up on the Yukon River.
- Ellen
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| Near the Arctic Circle, west of Dempster Highway |
After visiting the Arctic Circle, the convoy turned around and headed back down the Dempster Highway to Tombstone Territorial Park. This is about 45 miles north of the junction of the Dempster Highway with the Klondike Highway.
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| AC'12 Day travel route |
- Ellen
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