We left our home, moved into one on wheels, and set out for our 50 state adventure. The first day we drove a whopping eight miles to a friend’s driveway.  Not a very dramatic way to start the trip, but we realized as we took off in the RV that we were overloaded.  Boxes covered the aisles and every possible open space was filled. We couldn’t live like this for a year, so we made a detour to get rid of most of what we packed.  We brought back box after box to storage.

Packing for a year on the road was difficult. Going from a spacious house to the confines of an RV was a challenging task.  Clothes, school books, kitchen supplies, linens, toys, and computer related products took up much of our limited RV space.  We were all much more comfortable after lightening the load. 

Never having camped in an RV before this trip, we faced the challenge of learning how all the gadgets and gizmos operated.  We couldn’t quite figure out how to turn on the hot water heater.  Several cold showers helped us learn quickly that a pilot light must be lit to get nice warm water.  No one told us that you must put deodorizer in the holding tank or your RV would smell like a sewer.  I don’t need to tell you how quickly we bought deodorizer after taking a whiff of that rather disgusting smell.  We also learned the hard way that holding tanks have a limit and when full they will overflow in your living space.  What a mess!

After a few days of these blunders I was ready to go home in complete frustration. Then the kids reminded me of a lesson from one of their favorite books that teaches perseverance and so I uttered, “I think I can, I think I can, I think I can” and chugged along on the trip.

The funny thing about starting our trip was when we actually read the RV operations manual, we noticed the first sentence shouted in bold letters “This recreational vehicle is not intended for full time living.”  Oh boy, what did we get ourselves into?

As the gas prices rose at the pump we couldn’t figure out how we could afford the long drive to Alaska.  With prices hovering around $3.00 a gallon, gas alone would be over $2,000.  Not to mention the depreciation hit we would take putting so many miles on the RV. This was not in our budget.  Resigning ourselves to the fact that we would miss the Last Frontier was difficult since this was one of the places we couldn’t wait to visit.  We knew we would never have an opportunity like this to drive from Seattle, which is much closer than trying to drive to Alaska from Indiana. 

There had to be a way to go to Alaska, but how?  Then it came to me.  We could save on gas by driving the mini-van and tent camp, which in itself was inexpensive.  Gary and the kids loved the plan.  Okay, the kids loved the plan.  Gary wasn’t exactly “sold” on the idea.  I made mention of Daniel Boone, Paul Bunyan, Grizzly Adams and several other rugged “manly men” and said after this trip Gary would join their ranks.  Well, he didn’t buy it, but did agree to throw caution to the wind and drive to Alaska.  We were thrilled that our visit to Alaska was back on and we prepared for our trek into the wilderness.

Leaving late one afternoon, we soon found ourselves at the Canadian border.  Driving into another country was a thrill for me and I pulled out my camera to get the entire experience on video.  The woman at the booth quickly admonished me for taping and said no video is allowed.  I replied with something like I guess still shots are out of the question too?  I don’t think she liked us very much.  We might have offended her since our car said Journey Across America. Canada was not mentioned anywhere. 

After many questions we were allowed to cross the border.  The first thing we saw was a speed limit sign that read 100.  Whoa!  We were going to get to Alaska in no time!  Oh that’s right, Canada uses the metric system.  This was actually 100 kilometers.  Then we panicked.  How many kilometers were in a mile?  I felt like we were back in school getting one of those dreaded math word problems.  You know the ones, if six people are traveling across Canada and they have no knowledge of the metric system, how many tickets will they get before arriving in Alaska?

Thinking fast, I pulled out Stephanie’s fifth grade math book hoping to find an equivalency table.  Having no luck, Gary pulled off at the next exit to ask someone at the gas station.  Surely they could tell us how many kilometers are in a mile.  Americans must stop here all the time wondering the same thing. 

Walking into a Chevron I asked the teenagers behind the counter our metric question.  They both looked at each other and answered in unison; “Kilometers are on your speedometer.”  So that’s what that other set of numbers are.  Feeling rather foolish I came out of the gas station laughing and told Gary what I had learned.  He too began laughing, not believing we actually didn’t know that.  I am sure those girls were shaking their heads as I walked out and said, “Oh, I don’t know about that American education system!”

Now that we knew how fast to drive, we drove in earnest through the night.  We made it to Dawson Creek, the official start of the Alaska Highway (originally called the Alcan Highway).  We had heard that much of the highway was not paved, pot holes dominated, and flat tires were common. We didn’t know what to expect. 

We were pleased and surprised to find out the Alaska Highway was in excellent condition, similar to any road you would drive on a daily basis.  The one difference is there aren’t hotels, gas stations, and restaurants every few miles.  Most of this road meandered through non-populated areas.  Small towns crept up along the way and offered a mom and pop motel, diner, and gas station.  All of the locations of these towns were precisely marked in the Milepost, a must-have for anyone traveling to Alaska by vehicle. 

I loved traveling through these tiny towns and wondered how people lived out here in the middle of nowhere.  Wouldn’t they get lonely? What did they do for fun?  Were they able to make enough money during the summer tourist season?  I could never live in a remote area like this.  All of my life I have lived in a suburb of a large city.  Everything I could ever want was a short drive away.  These folks probably would hate living in a suburb and enjoy the solitude of their remote blip on the map.  I guess it’s however you are used to living.   

Driving the Alaska Highway was an event in itself. Just to be on this famous road was a thrill.  The feeling I had about this drive must be similar to what the people driving Route 66 must have felt like before the age of the superhighway.  There was a mystique to this road where adventure and a journey into the unknown reigned.  The sheer beauty of the drive was breathtaking.  Sometimes we saw more wildlife than people. 

One memorable stop that everyone driving to Alaska should see is the Sign Post Forest in Watson Lake, Canada.  As the name implies, this is a huge “forest” made up of signs that visitors from all over the world attach to posts.  It all started when one man put a sign up and the idea caught on.  I’m sure as he was nailing his handiwork to the post, he could never have expected how the idea would catch on like it has. This is such a unique place that hasn’t been duplicated anywhere.

We spent quite a bit of time reading  the signs.  Some of our favorites were a Georgia Bulldog license plate, a city limits sign from Alpharetta, Georgia (the town we lived in before moving to Indiana), and of course a Hoosier sign.  People got very creative using Frisbees, clothing, old tires, pans, and anything else they could find to write on and leave their mark.  There were signs from families passing through on vacation, honeymooners taking an adventure trip, retirees on their way to spend the summer in Alaska, and people from other countries that also wanted to see the Last Frontier. 

We made a sign and added it to the other 50,000 signs already on display.  Our sign consisted of the kid’s hand prints, where we were from, and that we were traveling to all 50 states.  The kids were giddy with excitement when Gary nailed it to the post.  We wonder if any other weary travelers will see our sign and say “Wow, they are a long way from home.”  Or “Wow, look at those small hand prints.  Are they really traveling with one, two, three, four small children to all 50 states?  I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw them on Oprah one day when they do a segment on ‘Large families living in small quarters who are still talking to each other.’”

After 36 hours on the road, we made it to Alaska.  What a thrill it was to drive over the border.  It was 12:00 am at this point and still light outside.  I had heard Alaska gets 20 hours of sunshine during the summer, but it was strange to actually witness this phenomenon in the middle of the night.  I loved this rarity as the prolonged sunlight extended our time for activities.   Gary did not like the sunny nights and didn’t get much sleep during our entire Alaska stay. 

The complete opposite occurs here in the winter where dark skies dominate.  They typically receive only four or five hours of sunshine a day. The sun sets right after lunch.  Dark, cold winters would be difficult. 

The adrenalin of knowing we were here kept us driving right on to Fairbanks (plus all the hotels along the way were booked).  We made one stop at Delta Junction, the official end to the Alaska Highway.  We had done it.  We drove the Alaska Highway and still have our four original tires!  Even though the drive was long, I wouldn’t have traded the experience for anything.