Brooks Mountain Range

12. The Haul Road

The road north from Fairbanks to Prudhoe Bay is generally referred to as the Haul Road, and is primarily used by truckers who carry the supplies for the oil fields on the North Slope. When I was there, the general public was permitted to about the halfway point near the small truck stop community of Cold foot. If you had legitimate business at Prudhoe Bay you could get a permit to go the full distance, but I was unable to convince the authorities that peddling art to the oil workers was a legitimate business. Consequently, I would have to turn around just south of Atigun Pass in the Brooks Mountain Range. That point is, however, some 60 miles above the Arctic Circle so it would be an accomplishment of sorts.

The road parallels the Alaskan Pipeline, and tends to be quite straight. It goes up and over things like hills instead of trying to go around them. It is not paved except with very coarse gravel making for a rather rough ride. All the literature I read recommended two spare tires for this road so I tried to purchase an extra spare at several auto wreckers, but I didn’t have any luck. Finally, I decided to take my chances. All my tires were new, and I resolved to drive slowly.

At that time of year (June) it was quite dry and the road, in addition to being rough, was also very dusty. The dust tended to collect in the low spots between the hills, and I worried a little about my rear engine van breathing all the dust stirred up by the front wheels.

The first evening found us at the Yukon River again. A truck stop near the bridge had an area for camping. If nothing went wrong, the Arctic Circle could be reached the following day. I asked at the truck stop restaurant if the two Germans had passed through yet, as this spot is down stream from the town of Circle, but apparently they hadn’t got that far yet.

A Bend in the Yukon

A Bend in the Yukon

I called Evie to relay some information that the Pacific Art League in Palo Alto needed. She admonished me for not doing any art work. I told her I hadn’t had time yet and she said, “What do you mean? You’ve got nothing but time.” Funny, it didn’t seem that way. I felt like I had been pretty busy. I’d been writing in my journal and corresponding (which you can do inside away from mosquitoes). I was reading a book. I was peddling my prints. I had been driving, exploring, and keeping house (or van). Sometimes I went for hikes and I took lots of photos. However, she did make me feel defensive so I did a sketch to ease my conscience.

Also about this time I started to get a little worried about Georgia. Her personality was changing. She was definitely hearing “the call of the wild.” She was becoming more and more adept at catching things, and she went wandering in the woods for longer and longer spells. When she came back she was like a different cat. Her eyes were wide and her fur fluffed up and she was very excited and hungry. I don’t think she was eating the things she caught, but maybe she was. When she was out and I called her I got no response. She was either ignoring me or too far away to hear me, or both. I just had to wait it out until she decided to return. This had delayed me on several occasions already, and I was forced to entertain the thought for the first time that I may lose her before the trip is over.

If I tried to keep her in when she wanted to get out she would dash around the van staring out the windows and meowing until I finally relented. If I was trying to sleep she would walk on me meowing till I gave in. The more I tried to keep her in, the longer she would stay away when she did get out. So that was obviously not the right tactic. I didn’t want her to think of the van as a prison. All the state parks posted rules saying pets must be kept on a leash or under positive control at all times. That may be fine for a dog, but Georgia would probably have strangled herself in the first five minutes. She has never worn a leash, and I didn’t own one. If I had tried to make her wear a leash and she got loose, that would be the last I’d see of her, for sure.

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Monday, September 7th, 2009 Chapters 11 — 20 No Comments