Sunday, July 31, 1983; Basecamp

It was 9:30 on the evening of the 29th when we looked outside the tent and for the first time that day, and the second time in four days, it looked like it was going to clear up.  Once again, the clear skies were to the north and the valleys were still thick with fog.  this time, though, it looked like the summits might clear.

The 29th had been a terrible day until 9:30 p.m.  It had rained without interruption for 18 hours.  The fog obscured the view in all directions.  There was absolutely no wind, no sign at all that the weather would ever move.  And we were low on brandy.  We amused ourselves by watching the barometer do nothing.  

We decided almost immediately to prepare for a midnight start for the summit.  By 10:30, our last dinner was being consumed.    The wind had picked up and the weather was breaking fast.  We spent the next couple hours checking and packing our gear.  We took a picture and left camp at 1:00 a.m.

We descended to a point where we could get on the glacier below and to the left of a stream which flowed down the top of the glacier.  We put on our crampons and roped up under beautifully clear skies with the rising sun overlooking a very foggy North Slope.

Our climbing gear consists of 5 chocks, 3 pitons, 2 ice screws, 1 deadman, 4 runners, 150 feet of 9mm laid rope, 2 prussic slings apiece, and seat and chest harnesses.

We travelled up the glacier in a southwesterly direction for about a half mile, gaining about 800 feet in elevation.  Then we had a rather level traverse across a big bowl which ended in a cirque between Mt Michelson and a somewhat lower dome-shaped peak to the east.  The traverse was about a mile long.

About halfway across the traverse, we made a most shocking discovery.  I was leading on the rope and I notice a strange object about 20 feet to my left.  At first I thought it was just a rock had become exposed on the ice.  When I approached it though, I saw that it was a man's boot.  Mike asked "Is there anyone in it?"  There was.  There was a foot still in the boot and it looked as though an animal had tried to make a meal of it.  

On our return trip, we found a [packed-up] tent about 200 feet away.  Our only conclusion could be that he m just have died, perhaps in an avalanche, and his remains were scattered about on the glacier.  We looked in the tent for some clue to his identity, but found none.

It was a large boot, size 15 probably, and was designed to be used with skis.  The Vibram soles looked brand new.  We decided there was nothing we could do except spread the tent out over the boot so the spot might be more visible from the air in case someone wanted to try to recover the remains.  There was no clue as to how long ago he had died, and we knew that this was his final grave.  I'm sure we will be the only people to pray over this guy's remains.

The traverse ended at the bottom of a ridge which rose southward to the summit.  From the bottom of the ridge, we had about 2,000 feet to gain in elevation.  The first half of the climb on the ridge took us over a wide band of crevasses.  I was first on the rope and I was a bit nervous.  At one point, I noticed a slight depression in the snow so I started probing carefully with my ice ax.  I found a spot where there was clearly free air under about a foot of snow.  I probed some more and decided I could take a wide step across it.  I had no trouble, but the lip of the crevasse collapsed under Mike and he almost went down in it.  He managed to pull himself out.  We continued zig-zagging our way around the crevasses until we reached a granite outcropping at 8,000 feet where we rested and had a drink and a snack.

From there it took us an hour and a half to reach the summit.  It was a steep climb on fairly stable snow to the north summit and then a 300 yard traverse in deep snow along the ridge top to the real summit.  We reached the top at 7:00 a.m.  The weather was wonderful.  Beautifully clear in all directions, fog in the valleys and on the North Slope, a slight wind, and 24 F.  

The view was incredible.  Extremely rugged mountains to the south and east.  Less rugged to the west but the western scene was dominated by Mt. Chamberlin.  We couldn't pick out Mt. Isto.  There is tremendous opportunity for mountaineering in these mountains, something so far overlooked by everyone, even Alaskan climbers.  Certainly the challenge of high altitude is not present, but the risks associated with isolation and complete inaccessibility is, in my judgement, a greater problem.  Only in the Brooks Range can mountaineering be combined with a wilderness experience.  Only here are mountaineers completely alone, forced to rely on on our own resources and ingenuity.

We spent 55 minutes on the summit and probably took 100 pictures.  We took a few group shots, then a few shots of the scenery below, than a few individual shots, then a few dozen more scenes very shots.   

We were back at our camp at 6100 feet by about 11:30.  We were bone tired and hungry.  We had saved the freeze dried eggs so we fixed those up with a little pepperoni, red pepper, black pepper, salt, and parmesan cheese and it made a tasty but light meal.  Then we retired to the tent.

I awoke about midnight and couldn't stand lying in the tent anymore.  I spent an hour watching the sun to the north.  It was the first time that any of us were sure whether or not the sun set.  At one point only the top quarter of the sun was visible, but it never disappeared.

I fix a pot of tea first and then I ate my share of the remaining food - a cup of soup and a bowl of instant grits.  About 3:30 a.m., Jack got up,  But by then I had decided to get packed and head on down to basecamp on my own.

It was a very pleasant early morning hike along the ridge and then down into a beautiful little valley with a stream from the glacier cascading over granite boulders.  There were ma ny very small patches of grass and wildflowers and mushrooms which made the whole place seem so far away from the marshy puddle we had spent the last five days in.

That little valley emptied into the same drainage that flowed in the Okpilak near basecamp.  It was a nice boulder-hop a mile or so to camp from there.  On that stretch I stopped and had my very last bite of pepperoni.  Just at the point where the valley opens up, I spotted a dozen or mored all sheep led a a large ram with a beautiful set of horns.  I stopped and sat on a rock and took 12 or 15 pictures.  For a long time they did not seem and, in fact, there were wandering upstream toward me.  Finally a large female spotte3d me and in short order they were all headed up the valley wall above me.  The ram was in the rear but he was clearly in charge.  For 15 or 20 minutes after the others had moved a hundred yards or so away, he stood on a rock 1000 feet from me just looking at me, then around the valley, then back at me again.

When I got to basecamp I fired up my stove and made some cream of wheat just loaded with milk, sugar, and margarine.  Then I had some soup.  Then my stomach stopped feeling so empty and for the first time in five full days, the mosquitos started bothering me.  If it's not one thing, it's another.  It was cool - never above 50 F, but I took a bath anyway, my first in six days.  It was sorely needed and I was damn glad when it was over.  

As I was drip-drying I noticed five more sheep walking along the wall behind our camp.  I did some laundry and was hanging it up to dry when I noticed a caribou in the valley, a quarter mile from me.  I grabbed my camera and tried to get closer  but it had seen me first and it retreated as I moved toward it.  It was apparently lame, it seemed to have a bad front right leg, which explains, I suppose, why it was straggling so far behind the rest of the herd.  Mike and Jack showed up 3 or 4 hours later and we fixed up a dinner of lentil soup and cornbread.  It was very, very good, I thought.

 

Friday, July 29, 1983; Mt. Michelson High Camp

We're into our fourth day in this tent.  It is 42 F outside, half raining, half snowing, and foggy.  This is getting real old.

Last evening we thought our luck had finally changed.  I had decided to take a short hike about 2:00 p.m. since the rain had slowed down some.  I wore my rain gear but after an hyour or so it quit raining completely and even looked like the cloud cover was breaking up to the north.  By about 5:00 p.m., we could see our shadows.

I spent a couple of hours trying to get a closer look at some dall sheep I had spotted about a 1/4 mile from camp.  I walked in a large semicircle just below the ridge line so that I wouldn't be spotted.  Unfortunately my path was upwind of the sheep and when I finally peered over a small rise close to them, the ram was looking straight at me.  He quickly aroused the two ewes and they left the scene, looking rather annoyed about the whole situation.

By the time I returned to the tent, Jack and Mike were ready to get out for awhile.  We were surprised that even though the sun was shining through the clouds and the temperature had risen to 52 F, there were still no mosquitos to bother us.  We fixed a delicious dinner of beef stroganoff and corn and polished it all off with hot chocolate.  We managed to get a few photographs for the benefit of Dri-Lite Foods who had provided most our food at a very low cost.

After dinner we had a smoke and walked further up the ridge line overlooking our camp to the level of the fog which obscured the high peaks.  It was a beautiful view from that perspective.  The valleys were filled with a thick fog; only the ridge lines were clear.  The lower fog ended at about 4,000 feet and it was clear in all directions until about 7,000 feet where another layer of clouds obscured the summits.

We returned to camp, had a snort of brandy, and spent the next 2 or 3 hours watching the sun slide across the horizon to the north.  We were hoping that the high clouds would dissipate and we could make an attempt at the summit that evening.  We walked down to the glacier and found it to have a hard, grainy surface despite all the rain.  By 1:00 a.m. this morning the clouds above us were still thick and a shot at the summit was out of the question.  We went to bed, expecting to awake to sunny skies this morning, and planning to leave late this afternoon for the top of Mt. Michelson.

I really don't understand how, because at 1:00 a.m. the weather looked so promising, but by 3:00 a.m. it was raining.  It is now after 1:00 p.m. and it hasn't stopped yet.  Once again we are trapped in the tent with no sign of a change in the weather.

Food is becoming a real concern.  We left basecamp with 5 days food supply.  We have been gone now for 4 days and we projected it would take 2 days to get from here to the summit and back down to basecamp.  If the weather doesn't change real soon we will either have to start going hungry or descend to basecamp.

Wednesday, July 27, 1983; High Camp on Mt Michelson

We spent most of the 24th sleeping.  We awoke in the evening, fixed dinner and we each went off exploring.  I headed up the valley just south of our camp which runs west toward Mt. Michelson.  Got some tremendous views of several hanging glaciers.  The ice appeared to be 100 feet or more thick.  The north wall of the valley was especially steep with bare rock exposed, particularly near the mouth of the valley.  The stream was very swift and I found no spot for crossing it except perhaps where the stream was covered for about 1000 feet by a thick layer of ice.  Even there, though, there were many crevasses and the consequences of falling under the ice prevented me from considering trying to cross.  

Our plan for climbing Michelson was to climb the ridge overlooking this valley.  The walls of the valley as well as the ridge looked to be covered completely with boulders.

Jack tried unsuccessfully to catch some fish.  Mike walked a short distance up the same valley I had explored after I had returned and had spotted two dall sheep.

We bedded down about 3:00 a.m.  It was our plan to start our climb in the evening when it would be cooler.  So we slept late the 25th and spent the afternoon taking our baths and washing clothes and packing our packs.  We expected to be able to reach the summit and return in 3 days.  We packed food for 5 days in case we were delayed by bad weather or just decided to stay on the mountain longer.

Our plan was to follow the ridge west about 3 1/2 miles the first day and camp somewhere on the glacier.   That would involve a climb of about 3500 feet.  The second day we would leave our camp with only daypacks full of a little food, water, and extra clothing, along with the climbing gear.  We would climb the glacier, gaining 1500 feet and then, at about 7000 feet, traverse west about a mile to the base of a ridge running south to the summit of Mt. Michelson.  From the base of the ridge it would be 2,000 feet to the summit.  We expected to be able to return to our tents by the end of the day and spend the third day descending back to basecamp.

By the time we were packed the weather was beginning to look bad in the higher elevations.  The altimeter/barometer showed the barometric pressure had dropped so we decided to wait a while to see what developed.  The wind was calm and the mosquitos were especially bad so we spent a couple of hours in the tent watching the barometer.  By about 9:00 p.m., the barometric pressure was beginning to rise and the sky looked a little bit clearer so we decided to leave.

The climb up the ridge was hard work.  It was boulder hopping the entire way.  Many boulders were unstable, even very large ones.  We stepped a few times on little grassy knolls, not much. more than a yard wide, right on the ridge line.  There we had splendid views both of the Okpilak River valley and the route ahead toward Mt. Michelson.  There we also had our first breeze since leaving basecamp.  It was most welcome since it gave momentary relief from the mosquitos.

We reached the point where the ridge line leveled out at 1:30 a.m.  It was a tremendous feeling to be at that spot.  The sun was just rising to the north and was reflecting off the Okpilak River which was visible for 30 miles to the north.  To the west was the glacier leading to the summit of Michelson, almost glowing orange in the early morning sun.  A cool breeze freed us from our head nets but required us to put on a sweater or parka.  It was 45 F.  We had reached 4,800 feet.

We began walking west along the ridgeline following well-traveled sheep trails.  In a short distance we stood on a knoll overlooking the valley to the south and had a tremendous view of the large glacier which winds west and to the south of the summit of Mt. Michelson.  From there we could see that to reach the glacier we would have to drop down 1,000 feet of the ridge and then hike up to the base of the glacier.  Or we could stay on the ridgeline, gain another 1,000 feet in elevation and approach the glacier from the north at the 6,000 foot level.  A diagonal traverse along the side of the ridge to the base of the glacier was impractical because of the unstable boulders all along the slope.  We decided to follow the ridgeline.

We were tired and thirsty when we finally got to the glacier.  We were beginning to get concerned about finding a place to pitch the tent.  The glacier looked too steep and the ridge, even where flat, was covered with sharp-edged fragments of schist which would have cut up the tent floor.  We walked to the edge of the glacier to fill up our water bottles and were fortunate to find a level, mossy, wet spot free of schist fragments large enough for the tent, 300 feet away from the glacier's edge.   It was about 6:30 a.m.  We set up the tent, had dinner of shrimp creole and went to sleep about 8:00.

We slept hard for a few hours before being awoken by rain.  We had not put the fly on the tent earlier, thinking that without it the tent would stay cooler.  I was laying next to the door so I slipped on my boots and got out to put on the tent fly, wearing nothing else but my underwear.  It was a comical sight, I'm sure.

That was the 26th.  Now it is the afternoon of the 27th and it is still foggy and rainy outside.  I have slept for about 24 out of the last 30 hours.  Mike has been feeling ill and was running a fever of 101 F at one point.  The puddle we're camped in is deeper now.  We've read all the medical books.  We've taken a few pictures.   I'm well-rested and bored.  Maybe it's time to have some brandy.  At least the mosquitos are gone.

Saturday, July 23, 1983; Basecamp

Our first objective was to establish a base camp further upstream which would be our starting point for climbing Mt. Michelson as well as serve as an intermediate camp for travels further upstream.  We decided on a spot near a broad gravel bed where the stream from the 3rd valley on the river's west side met the main river.  Although we could see the spot clearly from our first campsite, the map showed it to be 8 miles away.

On Friday, we arrived at the spot we had chosen for basecamp at 4:30 pm, after an 8 hour hike.  We had each carried about 70 pounds but we left most of the food behind.  We went to bed early and slept late.  When we got up Saturday, Jack and I walked back downstream about 1/4 mile where Mike had spotted a 50 gallon drum the day before.  We found it in good shape.  It had apparently once held fuel for a camp of some kind, perhaps a mining operation.  Nearby we found 5-gallon tins of Perl Oil as well as several unopened cans of Del Monte coffee and brown bread.  We hauled the drum back to basecamp where we used it as a food cache.  We also built a cool cache by capturing a portion of the stream in front of our camp behind a small dam.  Shortly after noon, we left with almost empty packs to retrieve the remaining gear from our first camp.  The trip took 4 1/2 hours this time.

We had decided to alter our schedule so that we could travel at night when temperatures were cooler and, hopefully, the river would be lower.  So we cooked dinner immediately upon arriving at camp.  We all ate in Jack's small tent and then stretched out and slept the best we could without sleeping bags inside the very cramped tent.  At 12:15 a.m., we got up, fixed some soup, packed the packs and left for basecamp at 1:30, shortly after the sun rose over the hill to the north of us.  We arrived at basecamp, bone tired, in time for pancakes Sunday morning, and spent nearly all day in bed.  Damn glad to have basecamp established.

It never gets even slightly dark.  The sun never really sets.  It just sort of skims along the horizon for about an hour around midnight.  The sky remains baby blue.  Never too dark to take a photograph.  Not the least bit of strain to read or write, even in the shade within the tent, at midnight.

The Okpilak River sits in a valley a mile or more wide and very flat with regularly shaped walls rising steeply on both sides.  The river itself is very braided within a wide band of gravel.  In most places, though, a single main channel carries most of the water.   Crossing looks difficult.  The river constantly cuts new channels in the gravel and even into the surrounding marsh land.

On both sides of the gravel bed lies a wide, gently sloping marsh.  During our trips between our first camp and basecamp, we traveled occasionally near where the land starts sloping uphill in order to avoid the marshy land lower.  Often, though, it was impossible.  For long stretches we had to walk on tussocks of grass growing up out of standing water or moss 3 inches or more thick.  It was like walking on under-inflated basketballs and I felt that at any moment I would be tipped over into boot-top deep muck.  The easiest traveling was on the gravel bed. but this was usually impossible because of deep channels running right up to the marshland.  At one point the river had cut into a bank 40 feet high and huge blocks of ground, 20 yards square, were breaking loose and falling into the river.  In the crevasses between the blocks we could see ground ice in layers 4 feet thick laying 4 feet below the surface.

On Saturday afternoon, we scared away two wolves near where the 1st valley meets the river.  The first was large and light-colored.  I saw him perhaps 30 yards ahead of me as I climbed out of a gulley.  He ran [away from me] full speed to the edge of the mountain, turned and looked, and continued running up a steep side valley.  Sunday morning we found his tracks along the river.  

The mosquitos are a genuine pain.  We coat ourselves with insect repellent, which keeps them from lighting.  We also often wear headnets to keep them out of our hair and ears.  The best relief is a good breeze.  We eat all our meals in the tent to avoid having to pick the mosquitos out of our food.

Our next objective is reaching the summit of Mt. Michelson.

Thursday, July 21, 1983; Okpilak Valley

We awoke yesterday to bad news.  The flight to Barter Island was cancelled due to continued bad weather.  We were offered a return trip to Fairbanks, and since we were quite bored with Fork Yukon, we quickly accepted.  We spent the day back at the [Tanana] campgound [outside Fairbanks.]

By this morning, the weather in Barter Island had improved and the flight was on.  After a 2 1/2 hour delay to repair our DC-3 and eventually changing planes, we left Fairbanks.

The flight was wild.  It was a luxurious plane which had once been an executive aircraft.  There were 14 passengers and a wonderful stewardess who served us all drinks the whole 2 1/2 hour flight.  She even put some Credence Clearwater Revival on the tape deck.  It was really a great party.

Flight crew on the way to Kaktovik

Deplaning in Kaktovik

Standing beside the Beaufort Sea (Arctic Ocean)

We arrived in Barter Island and almost immediately loaded onto Walt Audi's float plane.  In 25 minutes, we were on the edge of a small lake just to the west of Okpilak River.  In 5 more minutes, Walt was gone and we were alone. 

Loading onto Walt Audi's plane

And then we were alone.

Our camp is 200 feet from the lake on a slight rise.  The temperature is 57 degrees and the mosquitos are outrageous.  Dinner is cooking.

They have mosquitos in the Brooks Range

Our first camp in the Okpilak Valley

Our first view up the Okpilak Valley.  Mt. Michelson to right, partially obscured by clouds.

Wednesday, July 20, 1983; Fort Yukon, Alaska

Fort Yukon is a trashy little village in the middle of the wet marshy Yukon Flats.  It has a population of about 675, making it the largest settlement of Athabaskan Indians in Alaska.  The town is accessible only by plane or, I suppose, by boat on the Yukon River.  It sits 8 miles north of the Arctic Circle, about 150 miles NNW of Fairbanks.  There is precious little to do.

We camped at the edge of the Fort Yukon airstrip

We fixed our first trail dinner - chicken and dumplings, on a gravel corner of the airstrip, drank 4 liters [it was one 3 liter box] of wine, had a smoke, generally acted crazy for a few hours, and then went down in our sleeping bags in a completely disorganized manner.

Tuesday, July 19 1983; Fort Yukon, Alaska

The last few days have been hectic and tiring.  I need to catch up in my writing.  

Sunday morning we woke up at Watson Lake and drove to Whitehorse, Yukon Territory by mid-afternoon.  Whitehorse is the first town of any size in several hundred miles.  At 17,000 people, Whitehorse has 2/3 of the population of the whole Yukon Territory.  We mailed some postcards and had a beer at a bar called The Office under a hotel.  We called Jack in Denver and found out he was taking a flight into Fairbanks that would arrive at 12:30 a.m. on Monday.  Mike and I decided we should drive straight on in to Fairbanks.  The highway through the Yukon Territory was ver good:  asphalt without too many potholes.  We had been driving 50-60 MPH without a great deal of difficulty.  Actually, the whole highway had not been so bad, only a few hundred miles unpaved.  The worst sections were where construction to improve the road was underway.  

The Alaska Highway in the Yukon Territory

We reached the Alaska border at 10:30 PDT and we got out and took a picture and congratulated ourselves and the car for getting here without "busting."  At customs, we were scrutinized almost as closely as when we entered Canada.  The first 20 miles of the Alaska Highway in Alaska was the worst stretch of the whole road.  It was terribly wet, muddy and slippery.  The whole 300 miles from the border to Fairbanks was cold and rainy.  The car has no heater, and by the time we arrived in Fairbanks at 3:15 a.m., I was nearly frozen.

Alaska Border

About 50 miles from Fairbanks, the car started behaving strange again and we limped on into town at 40 MPH.  That poor Volkwagen, after serving us faithfully for 2400 miles from Davidson [Saskatchewan] to Fairbanks, may be ready to call it quits.

We went to the Pioneer Motel and got Jack out of bed at 3:30 and the three of us went out and had a couple of beer at the Fairbanks Bar and the Savoy Bar.  The motel would not allow visitors into the rooms until after 7:00 a.m., so we walked around town and tried to plan out the rest of the day.  We finally slept from 7:30 to 11:00 a.m. and then Mike and I each took our first showers since leaving Davidson.   We spent the afternoon visiting the offices of the Arctic Wildlife Range, speaking to people who had been in the Okpilak River Basin and reading a preliminary report from the Grampian School, a Scottish group which spent 3 weeks in the Okpilak in 1982 and who were back in the same area this year.  We also rounded up fuel, a few extra groceries, and a few other items before setting up camp last night at the Tanana Campground on the north side of town.  Last evening was spent packing, eating spaghetti and drinking wine.

Tanana Campground

Ticket counter at Fairbanks airport

Our plane to Barter Island was to leave at 8:00 a.m.  It was a small plane, loaded down with our gear.  There were two other passengers besides us:  two women who were doing research for the wildlife refuge.  The flight was going pretty smoothly.  Jack and I had some comic relief when Mike had to relieve his bladder in a bee seal can.  

Aboard our first flight north

We were probably an hour and a half out of Fairbanks when the pilot suddenly turned the plane around and started descending from 12,000 feet.  I had no idea what the problem was, bus as I had not seen anything but trees and marsh ever since Fairbanks, I was a bit worried.  When we got below 2,000 feet I starting looking for sandbars on the rivers; there seemed to be no other possibility in sight for a landing.  I knew that both Arctic Village and Fort Yukon had an airstrip, but we were already at a low altitude and there was no sign of a town.  At the last minute we turned and I could see the runway.  It was quite a relief, actually.  So here we are in Fort Yukon.  

As it turned out, the weather in Barter Island was too bad for a landing.  We spent an hour in Fort Yukon waiting for the. next weather report from Kaktovik:  heavy fog and 37 degrees.  We decided to stay in Fort Yukon rather than return to Fairbanks and we arranged for the plan tomorrow to stop here and pick us up. 

Fort Yukon sits on the south shore of the Yukon River.  It has about 700 people - mostly Indians, it seems.  It has one hotel and restaurant, the Sourdough Inn, where we had lunch.  The rest of the town consists of 2 or 3 churches, one store, a school, and a log of log cabins, a few mobile homes, and a few frame houses.  We are spending the day relaxing and catching up on our sleep.

Sunday, July 17. 1983; Yukon Territory

We drove into Edmonton about lunchtime Friday, did some last minute shopping, and ate at the all-you-can-eat buffet at Shakey's Pizza Parlor.  We left Edmonton about 2:30 and arrived at Dawson Creek, Mile 0 of the Alaska Highway at sunset.  We made it to Charlie Lake, Milepost 52, before we stopped and crashed on the side of the road next to the Red Barn Pub.

Yesterday we made it to Watson Lake, Yukon Territory.  It was a long, hard day.  We stopped last evening in Muncho Lake, population 24 and got gas for 62.9 cents a liter and a beer for $1.89 plus tax, along with the required order of french fries.  Muncho Lake is a beautiful spot, surrounded by dramatic mountains on all sides.

The people in these parts are real pioneers, without the comforts we're accustomed to.  They have electricity, and phones which sometimes work, but flush toilets are rare and TV is available only if you also have a receiving dish.  Tiny little settlements of 25 people or less are spaced 50 or 100 miles apart along the Alaska Highway, with nothing but trees, rivers, and mountains in between.  The people depend on the Highway for their livelihood.  A typical settlement consists of 1 or 2 families who operate a gas station, campground, and restaurant.  A few people, mostly indians [sic,] depend on fishing and hunting.  

We stopped about 11:00 last night at Contact Creek, Yukon for gas.  I also went in and had a cup of coffee and a piece of blueberry pie.  Contact Creek consists of about 6 or 8 people and about 3 buildings.  It is 130 miles from Muncho Lake, the nearest settlement to the south, and about 50 miles from Watson Lake to the north.  On the south side of Contact Creek, we drove through an area 73 miles long and encompassing millions of acres, which had been burnt last year in a huge forest fire.  Where there had once been thick forest was now an area of sandy, rapidly eroding hills covered with the charred skeletons of millions of trees, some still standing, some blown over by the wind.

As I sat eating my pie, another traveler on the highway came in and reported a fire a few miles back down the road.  The phone was not functioning in Contact Creek, so Mike and I had to stop at the weigh station near Watson Lake, the nearest phone, and have someone contact the appropriate authorities.

Contact Creek does not have a TV receiving dish, but for a while last winter, they rented one.  Now, if they want to watch television, they can choose among the several movies they videotaped when they had the dish.  While I was eating my pie, I overhead the proprietors of the cafe discussing which movie they should watch.  That had seen them all probably a half dozen times.  For a while it seemed that Bugs Bunny was going to be the consensus, but in the end the choice was "that adult movie" from the Playboy Channel.

Friday, July 15, 1983; Hythe, Alberta

We cooked up some Hamburger Helper under the hood of the car at a pull off the highway west of Saskatoon.  We drove until 12:00 midnight Mountain Daylight Time, just past the border into Alberta.  We were tired, so we just laid our sleeping bags out on the ground next to the car and slept until about 6:30 or 7:00 this morning.  

It is obvious we are going north.  When I left Philadelphia, the sun was setting at about 8:30 and rising, by my best estimate, at about 5:30.  By the time we got to Davidson, the sun was setting about 9:15 Central Standard Time, and it was not dark until about 10:45.  Last night we saw the sun set at about 9:30 MDT, but still saw a glow in the sky, almost due north, at 12:30 this morning.  The sun was up again by about 5:00, rising in the northeast.  I suspect that there was a glow on the horizon for most, if not all, of the night.

I took a picture at the Handee Mart in Hythe at 8:30 pm MDT.

Thursday, July 14, 1983; outside Saskatoon, Saskatchewan

The motor was back in the car by 10:00 this morning and running by 11:30.  We left Davidson at about 4:45.  It was disappointing to be delayed 3 1/2 days but it was kind of nice to spend time in a small farming town in Saskatchewan.  Everyone was very helpful and seemed to be genuinely interested in our success.  We spent 3 days in the back of B&B Auto Repair and called frequently on the assistance of the proprietor, Verle, who charged us $20 for the space, his help, his tools, and a spot to pitch our tent.  The Shell station next door also lent us tools and the Gulf station down Main Street checked the compression for us twice when we were still trying to diagnose the problem with the engine.  Two young fellows (we never knew their names) helped by giving me a ride to Saskatoon when we needed parts and by giving us a place to sleep one night.

We spent all day Monday diagnosing the problem with the car and making arrangements for getting the car repaired.  Tuesday was spent taking the engine out and tearing it down.  I spent the afternoon going to Saskatoon for parts and riding the bus back.  On Wednesday, we spent about 12 hours straight re-assembling the engine and getting it ready to put back in the car.

As it turned out, we had a hole in a piston, so we replaced all the pistons and cylinders.  We also replaced the front oil seal which had apparently been damaged.  And we addressed several other minor problems.  Right now, we are just west of Saskatoon on Highway 16, about 300 miles from Edmonton.  The car seems to be running great.  We just passed into Mountain Time.  It is just after 6:00 p.m.

Wednesday, July 13, 1983; Davidson, Saskatchewan

The motor was out of the car by 10:00 a.m. yesterday.  The diagnosis is a piston with a hole in it.  Shortly after noon yesterday, I hitched a ride into Saskatoon to get parts while Mike stayed here in Davidson disassembling the motor.  It's now in about 7,311 parts and we're actually expecting to get it running again by the end of the day.

Monday, July 11, 1983; Davidson, Saskatchewan

It is 1:40 p.m.  We're sitting in a service station in Davidson, Saskatchewan, which is 72 miles from nowhere to the northwest, and about 70 miles from nowhere else to the southeast.  The car, of course, is dying.  I figure it is an appropriate time for the first entry in this journal of this ridiculous excursion.

Davidson, Saskatchewan