Alaska - Part Two.

The cabin complex I had booked into for the night, seemed to have an age requirement of 70 years or older, judging by the other guests. The two young male receptionists looked quite startled when I said I wanted a room. I vaguely explained that I was there because of lack of sleep and snoring but didn't go into details. Later that night though, when I walked back to reception with Brad, Diana and Mike, the two young guys were still there. Brad said loudly in their direction, "You know that's my wife checking in?", and then to me, "And I always thought you liked my snoring, dear". The guys exchanged a knowing look, as if to say, 'Oh no, here we go, another domestic' and said to Brad, as I walked out of earshot... "Good luck Sir!" 

When I got up to the room I had the opportunity to look at myself for the first time in 4 days. In the RV there was only a small, grubby mirror in the loo, and most of the bathrooms we used when we stopped were tiny, so I was suddenly faced with a full length, and very well lit reflection. Oh dear. With my rumpled checked shirt, dirty jeans, hiking boots, pale face, tired eyes and wild banshee hat hair, the only thing stopping me from being a true Alaskan, was a beard. But when I took off my clothes, that was even scarier. There seemed to be a bruise for every 6 inches of skin. I mean, I know I'm accident prone but I honestly couldn't think what had caused them all. Then I remembered... Brad had found it rather amusing the first day of driving the RV to not inform me when he was about to start driving. So I would be casually pottering around or on the loo, and then suddenly be thrown off balance as he accelerated, causing me to bang head, legs and shins into any sharp corner. Ha bloody ha! If either of the reception guys had walked in at that moment and looked at my black and blue body, they would have thought I was a battered wife on top of everything else!

I did look a bit better in the morning thank god... 8 glorious hours of sleep and a hot shower can do wonders. We met up with Mel and Jason who were going to drive us to the Arctic Circle, weeheee. Mel and Jason were part of a group called SOPAH, that Mike had been in touch with before we travelled to Alaska. As our trip was about folklore, ghosts, Big Foot, myths and legends, as well as seeing the beauty and wildlife of Alaska, we had the added bonus of doing some slightly unusual things and meeting some slightly unusual people. SOPAH stood for Seekers of Paranormal and History, so they were basically ghost hunters, and they were to be our hosts for the next three days. Gulp.

Diana and I went in Mel's 4x4 jeep and Mike and Brad went in Jason's. It was a bloody good job, as I'm not sure a normal vehicle would have made it... mud, rain, grit and ice are a jeep's perfect day out though.

Mel had been in Alaska for about ten years after moving from Wyoming, and was married to a big haul trucker who often drove the ice road. She immediately began telling us stories. Stories which all seemed to end in either death or jail. She would start a fairly mild tale of her friend and herself having a picnic, and suddenly someone would be killed, arrested, drunk, in a fight, in an accident, or all of the above. I loved her. Mel was a self-confessed red neck with a heart of gold, but as I pointed out to her later, my god, I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of her. She was slightly scary, and she had guns. In fact, most of the people we met in Alaska had guns and several of them carried them quite openly, in their cars or in holsters on their belts. I wasn't at all comfortable with it, but they found it far stranger when I told them we couldn't own a gun in the UK nor were our policeman armed. "So how do you kill things?" Mel asked, completely straight-faced. In fact, I have made Mel promise to email me a Mel-ism every day, because she simply has the best one-liners I have ever heard. She wanted to stop for a loo break half an hour into our journey, and said, "Jesus, I have to pee so friggin bad my bladder has stretch marks". She described her hangover from the previous, saying, "I hadn't felt that bad since the hogs ate my little brother." and  "I felt like something a coyote shit over a 50 foot cliff." Brilliant.

As we headed away from Fairbanks, the road got rougher and rougher and the weather followed suit. We went through rain, torrential rain, mist, dense fog and blanket cloud. Visibility was about ten feet. Being on the Dalton Highway - which is the only road leading North, and the one which is featured on Ice Road Truckers - is terrifying. It is an unforgiving ride... unpaved mosttly with hour long stretches of gravel and mud. 

At one point, we came around a corner, out of a fog bank, and saw a wolf crossing the road. We skidded to a stop to watch and suddenly Jason came through on the walkie talkie telling us to look behind the car as her two pups were there. They were adorable, letting our little howls as they trotted past us, trying to find mum.

Our first stop was Chatanika to look at an old gold mining dredge boat that lay abandoned in the river. The SOPAH team had been there a few months previously to investigate ghosts and it really was a very eerie place. A once bustling industry, the 1850's Alaskan gold rush was similar to the one in California, with people traveling from all over America and the World to make their fortune. Unlike California, the conditions were much much harsher and thousands perished just trying to get there. If they managed the journey, they were faced with a harsh landscape, wild animals and terrible working conditions. There were thousands of accidental deaths and many suicides, so sites like the old gold dredge were perfect for ghosts. Thank God, it was daylight, that's all I can say.

Of course we stopped several times for pee breaks but it's not always easy... The choice is either a wee in the woods or a squat & drop in a lay-by, either of which could result in a bear eating you. For a more upmarket affair, wooden cabins or shacks with outside loos are found every few hours. The owners of these places are tough cookies, not afraid to be on their own for long stretches of time and having to endure the harsh weather for months on end. Some of these places have rooms but mostly they offer delicious hot food and conversation to big burly truck drivers. We stopped at a place called the Hotspot, run by a friend of Mel's (she seems to know everyone), that served burgers the size of my head, and milkshakes so thick you needed a spoon.

Deeeelicious. If you like meat, which I do, Alaska is a carnivores playground. They don't mess about... servings are large or extra large, meat is bloody and nothing is out of bounds! They eat everything they hunt, and they hunt everything!

We got to the Arctic Circle about 5 hours later. We were very very excited. We walked around the car park, took photos by a giant map, went to the loo, chatted for a bit and then realised there wasn't much else to do but turn around and drive back again. 

By the time we got back, after another horrendous drive, it was about 9pm, so we decided to just have a quick snack for dinner and hit the hay.

I realised it may be my last chance for a few days to get a good nights sleep, so I headed over to the cabin place again to see if they had any room. The same two guys were on reception as the previous night and the older of the two gave me a huge grin as I came in and said they'd just had a cancellation and it was my lucky night. It was the master suite in the main hotel and he said he would give it to me for the same price as the cabin... wow, how nice. He seemed so happy and kept telling me it was his favourite room. He then offered to show it to me, which was weird, as it was only at the top of the stairs but I said ok as I thought it was the right thing to do. He opened the door with a flourish and excitedly showed me round. It was huge. I said "My god, I could fit my whole flat in here" and he grinned at me, coming to stand right next to me.

"This is my favourite room" he said, for perhaps the 4th time, "If I could stay in any room in the hotel, it would be this one."  And then I think he winked. I am completely stupid sometimes and thought he was hinting at a tip, so I hurriedly found my purse and handed him $3. He shook his head and smiled and said, "That's really kind but I don't want a tip". I was really confused and proffered it again saying, "Please take it, you've been so kind". He then did something that hasn't been done to me since I was at a disco in Turkey, twenty years ago. He took my hand as if to shake it and then ran his finger down the middle of my palm, poking it a bit. He smiled again, headed for the door and said, "I'll be downstairs all night if you need me." Oh. My. God. I sat down on the bed and processed what had just happened. Euuggghh, he fingered my palm! Yuck yuck yuck. Who does that sort of thing? He must have thought, after the whole snoring debacle, that I was the long-suffering wife, lonely and sex starved, possibly needing some comfort in the arms of a young strapping receptionist! I did resist by the way, just so you know.