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By: Angela Reiswig - 8/2002

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August 11th: Angela's Ashes
A journal entry by Angela, copilot and photographer.

Lets see... It is day 24 of our journey. George said he had given up on the day thing, but in light of all that's happened I just wanted to note it myself. This is Angela, the wife, researcher of trails, itinerary maker, reader of tourist books, grocery shopper, hotel reservation queen: the planner. I kind of enjoy that sort of thing if nobody else minds that I am making the plans. No one did mind on this trip either, so I made the plans.

Photo by Charlie Graham
The head gasket got us twice...

Since you all have been following along, you know that the plans have been shot to another planet! We have had other trips that have gone awry but none to the extent this one has. Or maybe it just feels that way since George has been working 16 hour days this past year preparing Grog, and all my extra waking moments have been spent getting ready. From where I sit right now, in another hotel, now in Dease Lake, BC looking out on a sad, cracked-head-broken-engine Unimog, it seems like all that time and the time getting up here has been a waste. Some part of me, though our hearts are heavy, palpably heavy with disappointment believes that's not true. We listened to an Annie Dillard book on tape called For the Time Being these past weeks. It seems just what I needed. For though I'd like to blame someone for the mishaps, no one is to blame. Not George, not the broker who sold us the Unimog, and definitely not God. We planned to take the trip of a lifetime. We planned and prepared, conferred and reserved. Sometimes, I guess the journey takes you, not vice versa.

Annie Dillard said something like the essence of holiness is surrender. I didn't surrender after the alternator went out, I didn't surrender after the head gasket blew, I didn't surrender after Fred's brakes freaked out on the Telkwa pass trail and took another day to fix. In fact, I kept thinking we can still salvage this thing with some adjustments. (Don't think that I am some saintly figure who takes all this breakdown in stride. My stride sometimes consisted of stomping, crying and peeling away in the rental car)

Something felt wrong to me though, I couldn't shake my disappointment and move on. I wanted to. Yesterday was spent mostly traveling on the worst potholes in North America to see a glacier that was covered in fog. The Salmon glacier is the fifth largest glacier in BC and you can drive one length of it! I had to see this. Though we didn't see much the glimpses I caught made me recoil a little. This thing was massive and so foreign to me. It was spectacular, it was frightnening.

Photo by Charlie Graham Photo by Charlie Graham Photo by Charlie Graham
The clouds gave us a glimpse of the Salmon Glacier, an ice river cascading in slow motion downhill. A closer view shows a hint of the moon-scape of the glacier, against the scale of the larger trees in the foreground. The brochure shows a bit more of the glacier than the clouds do -- cursed clouds! (Click HERE for a close-up of the brochure page.)

There was hardly time to ponder that though because we had to get moving. I was doing the prodding, but I felt a little sick too. This is not the way to take a vacation. Rush here, rush there, and leave no time for contemplation or rest. The itinerary had to have a major overhaul. We talked last night at dinner and made plans to beat feet to Anchorage, do the trails there with the Last Frontier Four Wheelers club, maybe take in a trail in the Yukon if time allowed, skip the Denali highway and the unexplored trails there, counting our losses but ok with it all.

This morning everyone was up and out on time. We were an hour and a half into the drive that would hopefully take us to the Alaska Highway when Grog started blowing white smoke and we smelled antifreeze strongly. George put his head in his hands and said it's over for us, guys. The idea of surrender came back to me then. I can't get mad. Acceptance is going to have me no matter how much I run from it.

So, here we are in Dease Lake. It's a nice hotel. We have a kitchenette this time in case we're here for a while. The adventure continues. We have no idea how we'll get home or how to get Grog home. I just know that I am glad we're all safe, and the baby is sleeping soundly.

[ Intro | Sponsors | Reviews | Photo Galleries ]
[ Journal Entries: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | *AJ* | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | Wrap-Up 1 ]


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