Alaska Days 3-4

A little update from my life, Peter has moved into my house. Very exciting.  He flew in last night from Stuttgart, Germany and will spend the next 13 months as an unpaid intern for Mars Hills' West Seattle Church. He is a nice guys and he seemed excited when I invited him and Amie (sorry if I misspell that) to go out shooting this Saturday.

Miles: 2,548.3
Average MPG: 19.3
Gallons: 136.04
Bears and Wolves: 4
Alaska Beards: 3
Miles Hiked: 0

So I believe sufficient time has passed to continue to write about Alaska. I am not a historian, I really don't need to wait until all the participants' grandchildren die of old age before enough distance has passed to yield sufficient perspective.
So we drove on to Denali from Fairbanks. The rolling hills of the plains slowly gave way to the more rugged and more lush landscape of the highlands.  As we entered and cleared Healy the massive peaks of Denali National Park came into view. Clouds hovered ominously not unlike the fly-in scene in  Jurassic Park. We cruzed into the park and hit the Mercantile.  I booked 6 nights in Reilly Creek Campground. Unfortunately there was not an open site that night (total fail on my part, I should have called ahead).  So we packed ourselves back in the Traverse and headed South were there was sure to be a good campground.  There was it was called Grizzly Bear Recreation Area and RV Park. Think about that for a second...a recreation area for grizzly bears.  Hmm most folks might realize the not-so-subtle implication about staying at this place, but that didn't phase us.  After some shenanigans, we got a remote campsite over-looking the Nenana River and setup the mondo-tent (Thanks Erik) and a smaller tent.  After we all had our showers, we retired. I failed to sleep in the Traverse that night.

I woke first and started cooking some Bisquick pancakes and some bacon.  As we all awoke, we found the previously mentioned hood ornament (see the song bird). After leisurely packing up, we drove up to Denali NP and picked out our campsite for the next 6 nights.  We reset our tents and decided we needed to go out and buy some tarps since the weather forecast called for rain for the next week.
So I asked for any volunteers to go help me find some tarps.  Yulia stepped forward, so the two of us struck out. I drove past Healy AK without even noticing it and we ended up in the city of Anderson. As I look at Google Maps to assist my memory, the military base near Anderson looks suspicious. A large gravel mine, few barracks, and one heck of a radar array and some odd looking buildings, LINK. So the tarps, the poor navigation, and clandestine facilities aren't the point. The point is that I had the chance to share my whole messy story with Yulia. All the sin and my odd and resistant journey to Jesus. She asked probing questions and showed me grace when I named my sin and described who I was before Jesus. As an aside, I don't like to share my story, but I hate living in secret, so I pursue transparency, even though it feels like being stripped naked before a stranger as I hear the accusations echoing through the long abandoned corridors of my memory.  If I don't reject the lie against my identity in Jesus, then I spiral into despair.  But the truth is that I am forgiven, adopted, and cleansed and all my sins have been taken away.
So as Yulia (and Tina too) later told me my story sharing prompted them to share their own struggles and their own story.  Yulia is a woman who has been through hell, but knows her identity. I admitted I gritted my teeth as she shared, nothing gets me angry like foolish men who are dishonorable. So I eventually admitted my own folly as we looked at the map.  We swung back to Healy, bought two inexpensive tarps and roared back to Denali.
Nick had already been busy with some 550 cord (parachute line, and the exact same line that I used in my little picnic several weeks later). We ended up covering the picnic table and laying tarps under the tents. We had a lazy night as we cooked some of our beef in a A-1 and Ketchup sauce with some instant mashed potatoes.  We totally feasted on some s'mores.  We retired early-ish, and I tried to sleep again the the Traverse, but only managed a few hours.

Alaska Days 1-3

Miles: 2,384
Average MPG: 19.2
Gallons: 124.17
Bears and Wolves: 4
Alaska Beards: 3
Miles Hiked: 0

Well we made it to Denali National Park...technically a private campground just outside the park called Grizzly Bear Campground. It's a brisk night with a low of about 48F.  We are camped overlooking a beautiful river and are enjoying the soft ripple of water over smooth stones. Yulia, Nick and Mirella drove very well and covered the bulk of the distance.  My specialty was the night time sections.  I remember a little road trip I took in college with Trevor, Lili, Sam, Joe, and Jean.  They killed the days and I owned the night (the trip was from Hillsdale Michigan out to South Padre Island, 30 hours of sweet blacktop).
For some inexplicable reason I have been blessed with excellent sight (20/10 right and 20/20 left) and, when properly caffeinated, very good reflexes. So I love the night drives.
We only had one little issue on the way up (besides a few minor wrong turns), the Canadian Mounties!? On the U.S. / Canadia (YES! the proper name for "Canada" is Canadia, or America's Hat, or that loft apartment above a really great party) border we hit a little problem.  When the border agent asked for our passports and an explanation of how all the passengers knew each other he got suspicious and told us to pull over to the parking area.  We complied and went inside the 1960s era facility. A stone-faced Asian Mounty asked me to explain how these disparate people all happen to be going to Alaska. I felt his subtle implication loud and clear: you must be smugglers trying to get some of that chine-white American common sense into the warped world of Canadia...and I won't let you, Eh!
While he and his comrades in Mounty-dom removed every last piece of gear from our car and using the most sophisticated techniques known to a Canadia-ian, a portable X-ray machine (no doubt loaned from the U.S. Border Patrol) found that we are really boring people, no booze, knives, tactical nukes, or copies of Calvin and Hobbes Revenge of the Baby-Sat (this book must be illegal in Canadia where anything fun must be viewed with suspicion, apparently including some Alaska-bound crazies in a rental car with Colorado plates). During my interroga-...I mean "cordial interview" with the Mounty, his questions led me to explain the hierarchy and organizational structure of Mars Hill Church.  I thought that was hilarious, but I tried to keep a straight face. My 5 month internship under the executive elders and their assistant really came in handy.
After surviving the Mounties, we snagged some snacks and dropped the Traverse in gear to cross the great wastes of Vancouver Before Christ and the desolate Yukon. Along the way I played California by the band Phantom Planet which Tina convinced us to change to "Laska, Laska...Laska, Laska, Oh here we come!"
I also made the mistake of self-disclosure. I told two stories that led to the creation of a mad inside joke. So in an attempt to kill an inside joke by making it a Google-able outside joke, here goes:
I was once studying with my grad school colleague Greg Teplow.  We were studying in a coffee shop (propably Zoka in U Village) and my tall and 30% African American buddy turns to me and says in a bold voice, "You Sir are a Racist!" And he immediately goes back to his notes and books.  I an sitting there kinda stunned and trying to avoid eye-contact with all the curious people looking at the little mostly white looking guy with the tall mostly black looking dude as they mentally place bets on how many second it will take the white guy to die after the black guy leaps across the table.  Greg was totally joking but the awkward reaction in the coffee shop was priceless.  Another odd story comes from my buddy Joe Seaver who had a brother who inspired him. When someone sneezes in most of the English speaking world the proper response in to say bless you but what do you say when someone coughs?  Joe's answer was brilliant: "SHUT UP!".  So I disclosed these two stories to my travelling companions.  So for the rest of the trip Josue led us in a chorus of "Shut up you racist!" Or "Shut up Sir" Or "Racist Cough-er" at random times for no apparent reason.  It was great fun. On highway 37 we saw 4 black bears just on the side of the road. At Whitehorse Yukon Terrotories, we enjoyed a nice meal at Earl's Restaurant.  They actually gave me a sweet design idea for my house.
We made the Canadia / Alaska border at 4AM and after a laugh with the lone border patrol agent over how bad Canadia's roads are and the majesty of the Alaska state bird (the mosquito) we were back in the land of awesomeness. American roads are far better than Canadia-ian roads and actually are crowned so the rain water actually runs off of it instead of pooling.
By noon of the third day we had resupplied in Fairbanks and turned South to Denali.
Now some Pics:

 The Park Sign

 I managed to pick up a hood ornament.

An example of the beauty we encountered on the drive North

Special thanks to Bardo Pond, and my old musical friend Mogwai for providing the tunes for this blogging experience.

The Begining

So My previous blog was "Josh's 2010 Road Trip" It is now 2011 and my short-sighted name is obsolete. This is my new blog. My purpose for calling it "Josh's Road Trip" is really quite simple.

I, Josh, of sound mind and sort of sound judgment have chosen to make the metaphor for my life a road trip.

So here I am on a road trip. This road trip is my life. I will drive fiercely down the road until I reach the end and see Jesus (no Eric! not by downing an entire fifth of tequila). I will swerve; I will skid; I will run from the metaphorical cops; I will take pit stops to pick up and drop off hitchhikers. It will be great.

Join me.