The Alcan Adventure!

About a year ago, Logan and I decided we wanted to get a truck and camper. Having two dogs that always go with us when we go out, it was a little difficult to find sitters for just the cats. That meant we usually didn't go out for longer than a day. There are several trips we've been wanting to make, like Valdez and Homer and Chena Hot Springs near Fairbanks. We did go to Chena Hot Springs last November for one night, since a friend of mine was willing to watch the cats, but Dexter wasn't too keen on that (he spent most of the time in hiding.) But that was a lot of driving in two days and not a lot of time relaxing or enjoying all the fun stuff there.

I remembered my aunt and uncle used to come visiting from their home in Washington to my family's home in California with a camper, their cats riding along inside it. So I asked my dad if he would be willing to sell his old camper to us, as he and Mum weren't going to be using it so much anymore. He was willing.

A crazy plan formed: I would drive down to Idaho and trade in my car for a truck at a huge dealership that has special deals for Alaskans and other out-of-state patrons. Then I would drive to Mum and Dad's house in California to pick up the camper, and drive it back through Canada to Alaska. I asked a few friends to see who would like to share the adventure with me.

See, I didn't think Dad would want to sell his truck. That was his baby and he'd had it for about fourteen years. But Dad surprised me one day by offering it to us with the camper for about 10k. This meant I wouldn't have to drive down, I only had to fly and drive back up.

We jumped on the offer and started saving up, planning on doing the drive and the deal this summer.

Over the course of the year, the plan evolved. Logan decided he needed a vacation, so he invited himself along. My friend Tiffany agreed to come along the drive back. Then my cousin Alex threw her hat into the ring, making us a party of four plus a small service dog, Chloe.

Then Logan's work interrupted, so he had to fly down about four days after me. He only got a couple of days with his family before we started the drive back. We were on a time crunch because the house sitter had her own vacation planned as soon as we got back, so we couldn't extend ours at all.

I spent a week in California with my family. Then, at about 3 in the morning on Sunday, June 15 (yes, it was Father's Day), we started the long trek back home.

We spent our first night at my aunt and uncle's house in Northern Washington. It was very rainy there, of course. I got to see my cousins, we toured their homes and properties, met their animals. I almost had a heart attack when Aunt Christy brought out one of their less friendly cats.

He was a dead ringer for Dusty. So alike, it was scary. My heart ached.

We left after the tour, around 11 in the morning. We rode the ferry (a major trip for equilibrium, to be sure) and crossed the Canadian border that day. We stopped at a nice RV park in Cache Creek, next to a stream. Tiffy and I shared the bed, Alex got the table that turned into a bed with the seats, and Logan sacked out in the truck.

Many areas along the trip were very nice with lots to look at and take pictures of. But some areas, like a long stretch after Dawson Creek, were very boring.

We got lots of pictures of bears and other wildlife. It go so that we'd say, "Oh, it's another bear. Keep going." We even got some video of a bison mock fight. They weren't really fighting all that hard, mostly stamping and lowering heads with an occasional bump of their noggins together. But pretty neat to see.

It was interesting to note that in all the larger cities, A&W was the one restaurant you could be guaranteed to find. There were so many of them! We finally tried a Tim Horton's in Whitehorse, since we passed a bunch of those too. Fast food that is a lot fancier and better tasting than fast food. Almost like a cafe at high speed. Would definitely recommend to anyone who hasn't tried one.

This was not an easy trip. Because we were under the gun to get back by the 20th, we didn't do much other than drive. We spent one night at Liard Hot Springs, which was great except for no showers or laundry. There were several construction areas. We only got stopped at one for about twenty minutes. The others were no problem because we were out past the work crew times.

Getting through the border was interesting. When we crossed to Canada, the lady asked for our passports, asked how we were all related, where we were going, if we had firewood and some other things, and then let us go. Very polite and rather cold.

The guard at the border crossing into Alaska was very friendly and chatty, gave us our passports back and needled three of us for not having signed them, then he and Logan started talking about knives before we went on through. It was such a relief to be back in the States, but I have to admit that I get a real kick out of Canadian money. So colorful and shiny, and who could not love a coin called a "looney?"

We stayed a night in Tok after some debate about whether we should push through for home or not. I wanted a shower and some clean laundry, and we had plans to stop at the glacier on the way home, so we found an RV park to stop. I will never wash laundry at an RV park ever again. Waaaaaaaay too freaking expensive and not worth it. There are even places that have coin-op showers, for crying out loud. If I'd known, I would have changed my vote.

We did hit up the glacier and the restaurant next to it. We had a couple of days before Alex had to fly home, so we went souvenir shopping, stopped at the Alaska Zoo, and even visited Whittier.

My friend Tiffy stayed with us for a week. I learned a very uncomfortable truth about our society while she stayed with us: there are people who don't understand service dogs. A Walmart employee in Canada yelled at us, "No dogs!" We said, "She's a service dog!" and continued on our way. Minutes later, a manager tracked us down to check her tags. At least she was polite and nice about it.

But when we tried to go indoor mini golfing at a place called Putters Wild in Anchorage, the lady behind the counter discouraged us from entering, saying the dog would likely soil the premises. She didn't actually say "no," probably because that would be illegal. You know that boss in "Office Space," the one with the coffee mug saying "Yeeeeeaaaah, if you could come in tomorrow, that would be greeeeeaaaat"? That kind of voice.

Neither of us are confrontational people. Looking back, we both wished we'd challenged her, asking if she was refusing entry. But in my mind, why would we want to spend money in a place that doesn't accept disabled veterans and their service dogs? So I said, "Let's go." And that's what we did.

I was surprised and dismayed that there are people like this. She probably assumed that it wasn't really a service dog, just someone trying to get away with taking her dog wherever she wanted. She didn't ask to see tags or documentation or anything. Just made us feel horrible for even setting foot in there with a dog.

So please, if you ever find yourself in Anchorage, please do not go to Putters Wild. They clearly don't support disabled veterans or service animals.

But other than those couple of down moments, the trip was amazing. I look forward to trying different legs of it each year when we go down to visit family.

My next post will be about the dip netting trip we just took a few days ago, and the cats first adventure away from home that didn't include a vet visit. ;)

The Big Exciting (and Disappointing) News

So, once again it has been more than a month since my last post. But the month of June was quite jam packed. Before I get to that adventure, I promised I'd tell about something else that happened during the run of the Marvelous Wonderettes.

On March 17 I did a pregnancy test and it came out positive!

I knew I was really pregnant because my period is as regular as a stopped clock. I was two days late and feeling very strange down there. Went to my doctor for confirmation, bringing my husband and my calendar with my menstruation tracking on it. We both had lots of questions, as you could imagine. Our biggest worry is that the baby be healthy despite our "advanced" ages.

Anyway, she told me I was about five weeks and we set an appointment for some blood tests, which came back pretty normal for pregnancy.

My parents had no idea that we were even thinking about having a kid. And technically, we don't call it "trying." We call it "no longer preventing." If we have a kid, great. If not, we like our lives the way they are, too. I have no intention of doing fertility drugs, ovulation tests, timing sex, or any of that stuff a lot of people do when trying to conceive. It'll happen the natural old fashioned way or not.

So I decided to mail the positive pregnancy test to my parents as a "late" birthday present for my mum. (See what I did there? Hee hee hee.)

I got to see her reaction through Skype. Well, half her reaction. I could see one eye because she was too close to the camera. But that eye got huge all of a sudden.

The package arrived and surprised my parents on March 31. I guess I was around seven or maybe eight weeks by then. Since my parents got their gift, I decided to start telling people that I was expecting.

By the way, I did tell my fellow Marvelous Wonderettes before that day. I spilled the news during our limo ride in costume on the way to our opening night performance. My friend Sarah already knew, having deduced from something I said during one of the appearances we made prior, but I wanted all of them to know in case I started behaving weird, like not eating all the junk I'm known to love.

Anyway, the day after my parents found out was April Fools. I went to teach my Group Power class that morning. One of the participants said something to the effect of, "If I hear one more person say they're pregnant or engaged, I'm going to punch them!"

I laughed and said, "Yeah, I was going to announce that I'm pregnant, but I realized that if I told everyone today, no one would believe me."

The room went quiet as this sunk in. Alicia, one of my fellow instructors, said, "Hold it. Are you pregnant? For real? Are you just playing with us?"

I smiled and said, "Yes, I'm pregnant for real. No joke. I really am."

General pandemonium as people squealed and congratulated.

And then Mother Nature played her April Fool joke on me: that night I started miscarrying.

It was like a bloody floodgate opened. My doc scheduled another blood test and sure enough, my progesterone count had dropped. The lady who took my blood seemed sadder about it than I was. In fact, she was so sorrowful I almost started crying. But I realized that it wasn't my emotion making me that way, it was hers. So even though she said, "It's okay to cry," I did not.

It seemed crazy to me that, as people found out that I'd miscarried, their reactions were far more emotional and sad than my own. We live in an area that has many deeply religious folks, and I imagine that might have something to do with it. They considered it a life lost, as if I'd already had the baby.

I guess it didn't really bother me that much because I knew it was a distinct possibility. I'm thirty-eight years old, spent decades on the pill, and have never been pregnant before. If I didn't have a miscarriage first time out, I would have been shocked.

Also, seven weeks was hardly long enough to process the information. I hadn't been thinking of baby names or college funds, clothes or food, or anything. I hadn't really even considered whether it would be a boy or a girl. As soon as I knew for sure I was pregnant, suddenly I wasn't.

I trust my body. It has worked so well for me over the years I have no reason not to. And I trust whoever or whatever is in charge of running the Universe. If this is on my life's agenda, it will happen.

But it sure was strange, feeling like I needed to comfort other people when I was the one who had the miscarriage.

My doc prescribed me a medication, the name of which slips my mind now. A common one that goes inside the vagina and "finishes off" the miscarriage. I think mine was pretty close to done at that point because I didn't have all the horrors that other women have described using that stuff. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought it was just a really late, really heavy and clotted period that lasted more than a week.

And so now things are back to normal for my body. And life goes on as it always had.

There are a few changes on the near horizon, though. These changes would be beneficial if I got pregnant again. I'll be talking about those in a future post.

Next up: The Great Alcan Highway Adventure!