We’re back on the U.S. side of the border in a cheap but not inexpensive motel in Eureka, Montana. Berck is sprawled out on the bed saying he’s sad we left Canada. He’s trying to figure out how to move there. Yesterday we woke up in our relatively cheap and comfortable room in New Hazelton, BC. The lady at the front desk the night before had told us to have breakfast at the New Hazelton Cafe, but we’d found a menu for the B.C. Cafe in historic old Hazelton that looked really good. So we travelled off the highway and…
Yesterday our road luck ran out, at least in terms of snow. The day before as we approached Lake Watson, a passing semi threw up one of the larger pieces of gravel that liberally coated the road and struck our windshield right at the highest point of the steering wheel. Two spokes of the resulting star have been working their way outward since. We’d debated getting a new windscreen before our trip. Now we’ll get one when we get home (and have our insurance pay for it). We also passed a whole bunch of bison along the road, where they…
We’re listening to music for the first time today. We’ve been listening to several episodes of This American Life in a row as we drive down the incredibly lonely highway 37 from the Yukon south through British Columbia. Berck wanted to listen to more, but he wanted me to type more, and the road has been too bumpy and the scenery too compelling to spend much time focusing on a computer screen. As monotonous as the view out our windscreen was the day before yesterday, the scene yesterday was breathtaking. The Alaska Highway was built by the Army Corps of…
After asking almost every motel in town their price, we stayed at the Mini Price Inn, which was the second cheapest (but looked a whole lot better than the one that was $5 less expensive. Still it was $99 pre-tax. Carol at the front desk was a native Canadian, which also swayed my opinion. It seems like most of the motel proprietors are Chinese. I suppose that makes me a little racist, but it’s like calling customer service and feeling so relieved when someone without a foreign accent answers on the other end of the line. You feel like someone…
We’re heading north on the Alaskan Highway (or the “Scenic Route to Alaska,” as the sign pointing to it said, as if there’s another one?). There’s nothing but spindly evergreens on either side of the road in various stages of being timbered. I imagine this is what driving across Siberia is like, except with not as wide shoulders. To our left snow covered peaks occasionally peak out from behind the green hills we’re driving through. We slept in somewhat the day before, the Black Diamond Hotel being a lot quieter in the morning than the night before. We were in…