halfway plus

a few things we've beheld:

• porcupines, porcupines, porcupines all through the Yukon
• 2 grazing black bears / one was so close to the road we could hear its deep breath
• all manner of birds: geese, ducks, seagulls, ptarmigan, a yellow finchy fellow that kept hopping on and around the pickup at a pullout spot
• caribou, a coyote, stone sheep, mountain goats, and elk
• a dear Australian family trying to push their rented Vanagon from a messy bog (which had seemed a fine camping spot moments before)
• a herd of bison at the road’s edge in the dead of night / then we beheld all of our possessions at our feet, the result of my brake slam
• a young sheep with two blades of spring grass in his mouth running down a winding hill toward us, a semi-truck close on his tail - he veered into our lane then off the road completely just in time. His expression and that of his mother, who had stood by watching the whole thing, were hilariously blank.
• conversation overheard at a restaurant:
  10-year old girl on a field trip with her class: I HATE the news. They lie.
  Teacher: Shhhhhh! Talk like that’ll get you into trouble.
  Me, turning to the girl: What the devil? Don’t listen to her, little miss. You go right ahead and question the news all you want. And while you’re at it, question most of the wholesale information you’re being fed. [Then, tipping my hat:] Good day to you all.
  
  [okay, so maybe the last part happened only in my head]
  

leaving Alaska

We left Anchorage Saturday night to a low orange sun that made the mountains and fields reds and purples, and we listened to the song, "Gold," by Interference, thinking of Alaska and of leaving her:

And I love her so

I wouldn't trade her for gold

I'm walking on moon beams

I was born with a silver spoon

And I'm gonna be free

I'm gonna be free

I'm walking on moon beams

and staring out to sea

And if a door close

Then a road for home start building

And tear your curtains down

For sunlight is like gold

And you better be you

And do what you can do

When you're walking on moon beams

Staring out to sea

Cause if your skin was soil

How long do you think before they start digging

And if your life was gold

How long would you think you'd stay livin'?

And I love her so

I wouldn't trade her for gold

Thank you, friends, for sending us off with hugs, laughter, bread, cookies, tears, good books, magnetic poetry, and prayers. We love you so much.

r

We made it only as far as Wasilla Saturday, one hour north, since we got such a late start, and stayed there with Jess and Tara for the night. Going to coffee the next morning with them, then picking up a new pump fitting for our camp stove (so as to be able to make coffee along the route), and stopping to download a couple "This American Life" episodes meant we finally pulled out at 2:00 pm yesterday. I’ve said it before: we ain’t too swift leaving places. We’ve got packing possessions down to an art but can’t seem to break free of communion. At 2:00 am this morning we camped off the road on a gravel section of the old Alcan. The winds and skylight were almost too plentiful to sleep. I write now from a rad little coffee shop in Whitehorse that we discovered last time. I hear multiple languages and see such a variety of people. Onward ho! today, with hopes of making it to Liard River.