It was a very early morning to catch our chartered floatplane, a Cessna 185 piloted by Angus, a local bush pilot, to Virginia Falls in Nahanni National Park. This park is accessible only by airplane. The flight was incredible. We over flew the Rocky Ridge, which is a set of the most jagged granite ridges that I have ever seen in my life. For an hour and a half we coasted over the most desolate, rugged, and beautiful land that I have ever seen. Angus, who has been flying over this bush for 33 years, pointed out numerous sand bars, gravel strips, and small lakes that he has landed on over the years.
Angus told me of the trappers that he drops off in the bush in the fall and then picks up in the spring with their furs. They spend the entire dark and cold winter alone in the Yukon bush tracking and trapping mostly Pine Martin for their furs. That sounds like it would be great, for about a week.
This afternoon I drove instead of flying this portion of Alaska Highway from Watson Lake to Whitehorse. We are now well into the Yukon. As I sent up my tent and set down to read, I looked at my watch and realized that it was midnight. The sun was not up that I could see; however, it was still very light and I had only recently taken my sunglasses off.
This afternoon I visited Miles and went for a wader on my own to contemplate my situations. I have been mulling over many aspects of life this trip and, as everywhere else, I came to no real conclusions; however, met a few crazy local Yukon people. These people, about my age, were jumping off a cliff at the edge of a canyon and the bridge too. I have jumped off a cliff before, but this one was 45 feet above the emerald green water. Finally, I decided to give the jump a try. I made a running approach and stopped. It took a second attempt and I was airborne. I was falling. I was screaming. B oy, this sure was taking a long time to hit the water. Splash! I smacked the water and when I came up I cheered with exuberance.
I forgot to mention that the Yukon River flows at a pretty good clip and the water level was unusually high this year. When I popped up from my jump everyone on the surface began to encourage me to swim. With the fear and adrenaline flowing I had forgotten that if I didn't swim back to shore, the current would take me to places that I really would rather not visit. Two people did die doing this same jump last year because they failed to make it to the shore in time. Fortunately, I swam with all of my might and successfully made it to the opposing shore. A short clamber on the rock wall and I was out. Wow, that really wasn't the smartest thing that I have done today, but it sure was fun!
I managed to survive the 45-foot drop into cold rushing water of the Yukon River, but did not handle a foot and a half fence so gracefully. After jabbering on the telephone and watching Alex play fight with another dog, I jogged back to the campsite. In my path stood a small fence that I planned on jumping over. The approach was gorgeous, but I slipped on takeoff and my shin slid up the fence. With my feet firmly stuck on the fence and the rest of my body airborne, something bad was going to happen, and it did. I became a large lever with my feet on the fence as the pivot point and the dusty gravel ground as the other side. Hands, elbows and finally face and shoulder hit the ground before my now freshly skinned shins and toes. Oh yes, I was wearing sandals. It was only supposed to be a small hop over a very short fence. Oh well.
I took yet another soak in the local hot springs tonight hoping that the minerals would rid my new wounds of the dirt that collected. It felt great!
Warning... Detour Ahead!
After spending a bit of time this morning in the Internet Café with little to no Internet connection, I pressed on with the Winnebago to Haynes Junction, YT. For the past couple of days, I have really been getting the urge to wander on my own for a long while and once in Haynes Junction, I informed Kyle and Philip that I would be leaving them soon. As it turns out, Marcel, the gentleman who pilots the scenic flights over the area had to take the Cessna 205 to Whitehorse this evening for maintenance. I packed up my few belongings from the Winnebago and hopped a ride with him. I was now journeying on my own.
Earlier, Marcel offered me the use of his truck so that I could head towards town and find a shower. I did find a shower at a local gas station combination shower and Laundromat.
We had an absolutely awesome flight the entire way. Most of the flight never exceeded 40 feet over the ground. I saw sheep and goats, also Marcel pointed out tracks left in mountain lakes by the moose. Skimming the treetops for nearly an hour at 150 mph with 45 to 60 degree bank turns was wonderful. This is what flying is about! I made the landing at Whitehorse; it was a bit flat; however, not too bad overall.
After consuming way too much fried food at the truck stop , motel , café across the street from the airport, I crashed out in the pilot's lounge in the FBO for the night.
This morning I awoke early and walked over to the airline terminal to catch a flight to Boston via Vancouver. Gwen had some difficulties with the customer service at Air Canada in Los Angeles. Laura, another friend of mine who used to live in Calgary also spouts the shortcomings of the customer service at Air Canada. I went in this morning with an extremely open mind and in an optimistic mood. My amiable state was quickly crushed upon talking to the ticket counter attendant at Air Canada in Whitehorse. I was asking for a jumpseat to Vancouver so that I could connect to Boston later today. The gentleman behind the counter abruptly told me that nobody could ride in the cockpit. I politely explained that I did not desire to ride in the cockpit but rather simply occupy a seat in the back, if one was available. It was again explained to me that I could not ride in the cockpit. Obviously we were having a breakdown in our communication channel. I asked if I could speak to the captain for the jumpseat and then ride in the back. This is how it is done at all other airlines. I was nixed again. No help and he wanted me to purchase a $4000 Cad ticket! Outrageous! He was surely going to be of no assistance so I went on my way to the Greyhound bus station via the local city bus. Yes, Whitehorse has a city bus, amazingly.
At 1:30 PM I boarded a bus that was to take me to Boston, within the next five days, mind you. It was a gorgeous ride through the Yukon as the sun never really set and we passed through very mountainous terrain. As we motored down the road, I couldn't help but think that the bus was a true luxury motor coach. At least, it had the potential to be transformed into one. The bus offered a super quiet and gliding ride, silky acceleration, and comfortable deceleration. It was easy to read, and just as fun to sit and look out the window and ponder for hours. After all, I was going to be on the bus for nearly 100 hours, continuous. We did make rest stops approximately every 2 hours for about 15 minutes and occasionally longer breaks for meals. There were television sets on the bus and a variety of movies were displayed. Radio stations with channels individually seat selectable were also available. It wasn't bad and not nearly as horrid as some of the stories that I had heard. Behind the 40-foot bus we towed a large trailer to deliver packages and newspapers to the small remote towns along the way.
I was sad to be leaving the Yukon as it has a tremendous feel all its own. The people and landscape are rugged, varied, and enjoyable. Dry dusty conditions seem to prevail during the summer at the lower elevations and mountain glaciers dominate the higher ones with ice and snow. Between the two, sporadic portions of tree covered land and barren earth dominated. I am anxious to return to the Yukon or journey further north to Alaska, hopefully in the next couple of weeks.
During one of our rest stops, we discovered that the northbound bus had recently hit a moose. A couple of locals arrived immediately with rifles to finish off the animal and dress it out for eating. It is amazing that a bus traveling at 60 mph hit a moose and it survived, albeit barely. Apparently a calf remained and the local shop owner was sure that a grizzly bear or wolf would enjoy it for dinner soon.
Last night, I caught only about 2 hours of sleep and the same amount of near darkness. During the breakfast stop a trucker caught me and attempted to converse; however, I don't think that much coherence was expressed on his part.
It appears that the alternator on the bus has failed and we are operating on battery power alone. After consulting with headquarters, the bus driver continued down the road in hopes of meeting a repair vehicle sent northward to meet us. We did meet up; though, the repairman did not have the parts to make the repair, but he did replace our batteries, which gave us the power to make it to Dawson Creek. Here we transferred busses. The true test of a company's ability to make its clients happy is in the face of adversity and Greyhound handled this minor problem well. All connections were held in Dawson Creek and the lost time was made up enroute further down the road.
The airlines have a lot to learn from Greyhound. To this point, I have encountered extremely helpful and friendly agents, drivers, and baggage handlers. It seems that no question is a stupid one and the employees will go out of their way to assist a customer. The product is clean and comfortable transportation and they make good on that offering. As I mentioned before it is a smooth ride. Why can't the airlines make the "full and upright position" of the coach seats recline just a bit from what feels like a 90 degree angle. After all, they sure do in business and first classes.
I did consider taking an airline or jumpseat back to civilization; however, thought that it would be extremely interesting to ride the bus. Also, I was afraid to reenter civilization at too rapid a pace. Not only was I hopeful for spectacular scenery, but also for the intriguing people I was sure to encounter. I have been having a great time reading, writing, and just watching out the window. To this point, the bus has been less than half full; consequently, I have enjoyed my own row of seats.
Looking out the window I saw a textbook example of a standing lenticular cloud. During a portion of the ride today I sat next to a 19-year-old pregnant woman. She was on her way to visit her 20-year-old sister who had two children. I was surprised at their young age combined with the number of children.
This morning a man and woman of native descent boarded the bus reeking of cigarette smoke and alcohol. They were rude and cussed at others on the bus and even each other. Sloppy in appearance, overweight and with a vocabulary that was extremely limited they soon disembarked to all of our satisfaction.
With these two gone, another man boarded and appeared more intoxicated than the previous couple. The bus driver requested his ticket and the man offered a $20 bill. The driver suggested that he go back into the terminal a purchase a ticket. After a few more confusing moments, for the passenger at least, I suspect, he yielded and left the bus to purchase his proper ticket. The driver displayed an unusual helpfulness and offered to hold the bus until the man reboarded. Again, the airlines have much to learn about customer service.
We passed a sign for the "Malibu Beach Patio" in Brandon, Manitoba. The remainder of the sign claimed to be the "Original California Club". I am still perplexed on how the original California Club can be in Canada.
At this point I am a bit concerned about deep vein thrombosis (DVT). This is a condition that has made the headlines in recent times in regards to people sitting for long periods of time, especially on long international flights. My concern stems from the fact that my ankles, and lower legs have swelled beyond normal recognition. I am sure that it is a result of sitting for so long and sleeping in a seated position for a few days in a row now. I will continue to stretch and jog around on the rest stops.
This afternoon I saw Isle Royale, from the Canadian side, however. I have often seen this wilderness area from Houghton and especially from the air over the UP, but never this close up. My heart longs to return to a small town, wilderness and nature. I so enjoy the slower pace, reduced traffic, and super people. The mountains are no longer out the window, but rather a lush green landscape that followed the beautiful flowing prairies of central Canada.
A stopover in White River, Ontario introduced me to spruce beetles. These ugly, though harmless, critters were dropping from the ceiling in the restaurant, flying through the parking lot, and generally all over the ground. I rapidly lost my appetite. A German woman sitting behind me on the bus yelled at another passenger for squashing one of the beetles that managed to sneak onto the bus. At this point the entire back of the bus was becoming quite like the Gong Show.
Early this morning a couple of young, hippie looking girls boarded the bus. It turns out that they were violent political lesbian activists. For the majority of the night they talked to the guy across the aisle from them about the recent G8 conference, illegal drugs, healthcare, and politics in general. They spouted many ideal ideas, though no real method to accomplish the proposed tasks. Furthermore, they justified their violent activities as the only way to get the general population's attention. I disagree with their methods and some of their theories.
They believe the government enjoys people attending public educational institutions as they all teach nearly the same thing. They also dislike people getting a "normal" job and purchasing a house, having children, and moseying through life. It maintains a quiet, and obedient society where the members are not free thinkers and hardly disruptive. These two girls are rebelling against this lifestyle, which suits many, and attempting to conform everybody to their ways.
As we progressed out of Toronto and into the United States things really began to change and it was apparent that I had returned to civilization. In Buffalo we had to change busses and I noticed several differences. Canadian Greyhound, Inc. and US Greyhound, while they work in conjunction with each other, are actually entirely different companies. The US busses had no radio, TV, or movies. The drivers and agents were rushed, rude, and hardly helpful to any customers. A verbal fight broke out between two women on the bus and turned physical once both parties were off the bus.
I was joined by an extremely odiferous and overweight man in the seat next to me for a portion of the trip. I had so little room in my aisle seat remaining that I could hardly get half of my butt on the seat. I decided that this was unacceptable and moved to the window seat at the next stop. At this point the man' BO was unbearable and I had to move to another portion of the bus while enroute. I am frustrated when I have to suffer for other's actions. This is my bus ticket that I purchased and now due to this man I cannot even get one entire seat.
The final leg of the trip took me from Albany, NY to Boston, MA and the bus was much more empty, as it had been for 90% of the trip. The entire ride was 99 hours and 57 minutes. 3 minutes shy of 100 hours! I found it to be very relaxing and enjoyable. I met great people, and the sights were beautiful. Perhaps, it could have been a couple of days shorter, but it got me home.