A horse race through Canada

To the right is a picture of our prize cargo, Pete and Joe, in their new home in Alaska (Danny M. on top, Patty in front, Keith with baby Connie, and Marge accompanying them:

Having arrived in Duluth and completed the required repairs to our truck, the next day we drove out to the farm where we would be picking up the horses. The two work horses were proudly introduced to us the day before we would take them away. Not being a horse expert, I made note that they both had four legs, looked reasonably healthy, and were big enough to hurt me if I got in their way. Fortunately, we had Bud to look out for them. Having made all of the arrangements, we headed back to Duluth for a little rest before the next part of the odyssey. In the morning we packed ourselves into the truck and headed back up the hill out of town towards the horse farm. As we began climbing the hill, the engine started to sputter so I quickly shut it off. We had let the fuel level get too low in the tanks, so when we drove uphill, the fuel no longer covered the pickup and we effectively ran out of fuel. There we were, stuck on a hill with no fuel. Had I not shut off the engine quickly, the fuel injector pump would have gone dry, and it would have taken considerable work to reprime it. Unable to drive to a diesel station, we called around until we found a fuel oil dealer willing to send a truck with heating oil out to fill us up and send us on our way. Fortunately, no. 2 heating oil is the same fuel our truck was designed to run on.

With the animals safely loaded into the truck, we headed straight north to Canada for the next stretch. We followed a strict schedule, stopping every two hours to walk the horses. That matched the scheduled tire checks every hundred miles and forced us to get out and move around. It also slowed our pace across the continent. When we reached the border, I presented the fat booklet of medical papers for our load of four animals and was relieved when everything was approved and we were allowed to enter the country. Immediately we noticed that the Canadian truckers were quite different than what we had experienced to that time. While driving in the U.S., the Citizens Band radio provided a non-stop description of road conditions, locations of police and road problems, all bound together in a bundle of humor. As soon as one driver ran out of things to say, another would fill the gap with his own attempts to entertain. When we crossed the border, it was like our radio had died. Silence was broken only with the occasional serious comment. Fortunately, the scenery replaced the verbal interplay. Another difference we noticed was the discipline shown by Canadian drivers in general--they always stayed to the right except to pass. How I wish that was true now on our roads!

We pressed on across the plains of Canada, heading toward the Canadian Rockies and eventually to Prince Rupert, where we would take the Alaska Marine Highway ferry to Juneau. Slowly and steadily we explored the flat lands, stopping every couple of hours for the health of our horses. Entering the early morning hours around 4:00 AM, I was driving across the prairie and felt really tired. As Bill was already sound asleep, I simply pulled over to the side of the road, leaned over the steering wheel and fell dozed. Around 5:00 AM I woke up, and got out to walk around the truck to make sure everything was okay before starting out on the road again. As I passed by the door on the left side of the trailer, I saw a deer jumping up and down in the animal section. Obviously I was sleepwalking and dreaming, so I continued around the back of the truck and walked up to the truck on the right side to see what was really going on. Much to my surprise, it wasn't a deer, but a baby horse. It was a surprise, because although we knew one of the horses was pregnant, actual delivery date had been predicted to be several months away. Alas, they were wrong. The colt was a beautiful specimen, large and healthy, and would surely have been a welcome addition to the farm in Alaska. However, we faced two serious problems. There was no room for the colt in the truck and the chances of it making the long trip safely were minimal. The other problem was with our paperwork--we carried medical clearance and paperwork for four animals, and now we had five. How could we get through the next border lacking the necessary certifications? We quickly looked for an alternative and found a nearby farmhouse. We went up to the back door and knocked until we got a response. The farmer called for us to come in and invited us into his bedroom, where he and his wife were still in bed. Explaining our plight, we offered the colt to him for a great price -- free -- if he would give it a good home. Convinced that this was indeed a good deal, he got dressed and followed us out to the truck. I milked the mother so we could leave a supply of her colostrum (valuable first milk) to the new foster father, took this picture, and went on our way.

Our last view of the new colt includes Bud in the background tending to the mother. Note flat terrain and grain elevators in the background.

When we reached the Canadian Rockies, we got a lesson in truck equipment. Previously I mentioned that our truck had no Jake Brake. That is the device that employs engine compression to provide additional braking. That is what you hear when a truck slows down quickly with a load, making a loud noise. For that reason, it's common to see city areas with signs prohibiting the use of a Jake Brake. We had no problem with the noise, as we had no such thing as a Jake Brake. On moderate hills, we were fine. However, when we attacked the Rockies, we were not so fine. These hills were too steep, too long and too treacherous to risk brake failures, so we followed the maxim that whatever gear we would need to drop to on the way up the hill, we would use the same gear on the way down. It saved our brakes from disaster, but certainly added quite a bit of time to our trip. Offsetting this inconvenience, we got to enjoy some of the most spectacular scenery I have ever seen. As we were passing through in June, the rivers were still flowing fiercely with melted snow from the mountain peaks. Some of them were brown, some were green, some were golden, depending on the minerals and sediments they had picked up. No matter what the color, they were awe inspiring. Then there were the different wild animals. Moose, Dall sheep, and elk were readily visible close to the road. Then, when we looked up to the surrounding scenery, every turn in the road revealed a vista more stunning than the one we just passed. While we were amazed by the beauty, as we proceeded slowly through Canada we kept hearing stories that the Alcan Highway was closed due to flooding and all of that traffic was heading to Prince Rupert to take the ferry to Alaska instead. They would all be vying for the limited space on the ferry.

After oohing and ahing our way through the Rockies, we got within sixty miles of Prince Rupert. The final stretch was fairly level, winding along the river, but the lanes were barely wide enough for a truck, one lane in each direction, with high side curbs and rocks close by the side. As I drove this stretch, I was challenged to a higher level of driving precision. Fortunately, we made it scratch-free to Prince Rupert. As our final welcome to the town, we hit a short, steep little hill in town that slowed the truck like it had hit a tub of molasses. It slowed so fast I couldn't downshift fast enough to keep up with it. From there we went to the ferry terminal to confirm our reservations. With all of the traffic diverted from the Alcan Highway, we were told we would be there for several days. We also learned we had several adjustments to make. Generously, they sent us to the local ball field to keep the animals while we waited our turn to leave Canada. Parking the truck in the nearby parking area, we tied the oxen and the horses to the fence ringing the field and settled down for a rest. I had been challenged by the tight housing for three of us in the truck, with only one bunk. Apparently Bud had been, too, as he volunteered to set up his cot in the animals' area in the truck. Rather than share the too small bunk with Bill, I thought it would be easy to sleep under the trailer, using it like a canopy to keep the weather off me. I rolled my sleeping back out and settled in for a spacious, good night's sleep. I did fine until I woke up dreaming that I was being run over by a truck. The following nights I went back to the cab for my sleep.

We tied the animals to this fence for security. Local kids were thrilled to see these animals:

The morning finally came with another surprise. The animals had ripped a large section of the fence out of the ground and were calmly grazing the baseball field, oblivious to the heavy section they were dragging around. This was a good sign that they would be good work animals, but one of our first priorities was now to repair the fence to the condition it was in when we arrived. Next time we would tie them to a more reliable anchor.

We still weren't through with the surprises. We checked back with the Marine Highway folks and were told that because of fire regulations, we would have to remove all of the sawdust bedding we had used crossing the country and replace it with sand. That meant the next day's schedule included finding a place to dump the sawdust and finding a place to buy enough sand to provide a comfortable bed for the horses and oxen. Next on the list was departure day. After about five days we were ready to board the Taku for Juneau.

This is a typical view from a ferry in Southeast Alaska--gray, cloudy, mountains springing from the sea.

My first time on the ferry was full of new experiences. With a 350-ft. long ferry, there was plenty of room for our truck, and the traffic flow was straight through, making for both easy entry and easy exit. The crew provided expert direction putting the vehicles just where they wanted them to maximize the load and balance the ship. You can't go down to the vehicle level while the ship is moving, but we received special permission to care for the animals even when we were in motion. Back to the passenger area, it was all new, new, new to me. Food. The ferry has a nice cafeteria. You can buy anything from a cup of coffee to a sandwich to a full meal. Sleeping--you can rent a stateroom, but that was obviously beyond our finances. People staked out their sleeping areas. Some chose the comfortable chairs, sleeping upright. Others favored the chaise lounges on the deck. Still others would sleep on the floor, either in sleeping bags or just on the carpeting. At one point I put my sleeping bag on one of the life vest boxes on the main deck, giving me an unbelievable view of the buoy lights as we passed through the Wrangell Narrows in the dark. Before that we headed out of Prince Rupert and crossed Queen Charlotte Sound, the only stretch of open sea we would see on the trip. In spite of the size of the ferry, we noticed a significant rolling motion that could induce sea sickness, but fortunately none of us succumbed. The rest of the trip was confined to the inland waters of Southeast Alaska, with stops in the key ports along the way -- Ketchikan, Wrangell, Petersburg, and Juneau. One of my long-lasting lessons came from sitting in the front of the observation lounge, watching our 22-knot progress toward Juneau. Sitting there it would look like we were heading into a dead-end bay. No exit, and yet the ferry kept moving steadily on at its assigned cruising speed. At the last moment, a new channel would open up, either to the right or to the left, and we would be headed on to another seeming dead end. It showed me the value of waiting for things to unfold before assuming there is no answer. There was always a way. Meanwhile, porpoises would ride the ferry's wake, cruising cheerfully alongside. Whale spouts could be seen in the distance and bald eagles became a common sight.

Wrangell Narrows earns a special mention. This narrow channel, beginning by Wrangell, has such an active tidal flow through it that even the powerful ferry would not attempt passage at any time other than a slack tide. On one trip I watched a huge tugboat go full throttle with no progress. It didn't quite make it through before the tide turned and was trapped for hours, burning fuel with no visible progress and no other choice but to continue until the tides changed. Traveling through the Narrows, the scenery was spectacular and looked like you could reach out and touch the shoreline on each side.

A special extra at that time was a presentation by an Alaska State Guide who provided extensive background information on the new sights we were absorbing. A highlight was our initiation into the Order of the Walrus, an honor bestowed on those crossing into Alaskan waters for the first time. Later trips through this area lacked the excitement and fulfillment of this dramatic presentation. Somewhere along the line I lost the walrus pin, but I still treasure the experience. Since this trip was close to 35 years ago, the State of Alaska was much less developed than it is now. Juneau, the State capital, had no McDonald's. It was much more wilderness and less forgiving. And yes, it was expensive. We would discover the "Juneau rip-off factor," justified by the cost of shipping every good from Seattle to Alaska. From burgers to $80 boots, it took a mental adjustment to make a purchase.

After the ferry ride, Bill hauled water from Mendenhall Lake for our horses and oxen:

After all of the challenges along the highways, the ferry trip was a great relief. We could do the basics: eat, sleep, enjoy the scenery, and devour the miles with no effort on our part other than keeping an eye on our livestock below deck. At each port we could walk off the ferry and see a bit of the town. We didn't go far, but it provided contact with special spots in Alaska. We were soon to be Cheechakos, or newcomers to Alaska. The only way past that classification would be to stay and prosper. Most people who moved to Alaska would be gone in less than a year. Could we do any better? An interesting note is that we thought we were heading to a home in the wilderness where no one would pay attention to us, and yet everyone we met in Alaska was aware of what we were doing. I would recall that thought at a later time when Betty B. and I were shoveling pig manure with photographers from both National Geographic and Alaska magazine looking on.

But first we had to get our load to Hoonah on Chichagof Island. If you read the earlier blogs, you know that I was able to make reservations from Prince Rupert to Juneau on the big ferry, but they wouldn't make a reservation for us on the LeConte, the smaller ferry that services Hoonah. Arriving at the dock in Juneau, we headed for the Alaska Marine Highway office in Juneau. The only difficulty was trying to take a road with a limited height overpass with our trailer truck. After backing up for a block or so to a different route, we guided the big rig to the ferry office, made a tentative reservation for the following morning at 5:30 AM, and went on to the part of our trip covered in the 11/20/07 blog. That makes a round trip, including my first drive back down the Alcan Highway. Other adventures will be covered on later blogs, including answering the question, "Why would you do this?" See you then.