July 9th.
14 days ago I left my home. For 14 days I’ve been unsettled. And baring the 6 days I spent camping that is 9 days of driving and I fear I have one more tomorrow before I make the final stretch
But I awoke on this day 2 weeks after my leaving home more refreshed then at any point along the journey. The Rockies had done what I asked them to do. To heal my weary heart. Thanking God once more for the beautiful and healing power of his creation I hopped out of bed and went down for breakfast
Now I have not had a good breakfast since leaving the campgrounds of little river Tennessee. Upon opening my door I could smell the meal awaiting me, crispy bacon, greasy sausage, and if my nose be true pancakes. All this and more was sitting downstairs in this buffet fit for royalty. And what’s more they had an assortment of Jams but not finding the bread to my liking I coated the pancakes with strawberry, raspberry and some 3 fruit mix jams. The hearty meal had strengthened my resolve for the coming day. I know the further north I went the less populated it would be. I braced myself for another day of isolated driving across long stretches of asphalt.
As I sat and pondered the day ahead I overheard a conversation at the table next to me. They were discussing where they thought croissants came from. And sperging like an unkempt autist in a train store I leapt at the chance to tell what I only learned recently.
“Are y’all talking about croissants?” “Yes” they replied “we’re wondering if they’re French or something”
“I don’t know if this is true but I heard they came from Austria, after the siege of Vienna in 186- no sorry 1683. After the polish saved Vienna from the ottomans the bakers made croissants as a mockery of the ottoman flag with the crescent moon” nodding her head she pulled up her phone and said “ yeah I see it their flag does look like a croissant” holding out to her friend and me her phone with a image of a croissant next to the ottoman flag” we laughed a little and I wished them a good day and returned to my room and gather my things.
After checking out I had a disturbing realization that stabbed at my heart like a sharp knife driven in by hatred. I was out of redbulls and none of the gas stations I’ve seen since entering the Rockies carried little more then coke, Pepsi and water. I couldn’t turn back for more, and I did not know if any more redbull would be found this side of Alaska. Regardless of the absence of my favorite beverage I trudged on with less enthusiasm then I’d care to admit.
I drove for many many hours. And to my surprise I began to have thoughts again, my mind was awake. During these last few days of driving I began to feel like a tire that had been rode too long. Flat but with the beauty of the mountains behind me my mind began to open and I was able to think about more than the Gas and miles remaining.
I thought about the way we talk now days. At least in my experience when one tries to phrase a sentence that would convey a deep feeling he is plagued by a fear (not an unfounded fear) of being corny, sappy and “fruity” and fair enough, these fears of being mocked are good. We all remember the “my lady” phase of the internet. But that was just gay attempts at sincerity and chivalry. But real attempts to speak honestly and with flowery words should not be scorned. How much more encouraging and how much more memorable are words spoken true in a way that you will remember. I’m not encouraging everyone to speak like a poet or some fantasy character in a book to every person in every conversation but we shouldn’t shy away from conveying our thoughts In beautiful words to those we hold dear when the moment strikes us. But I’ve probably been alone on the road too long and listening to Lord of the rings for too long so take this with a grain of salt.
Before I knew it I had crossed into the Yukon, the last stage of my journey in Canada. The Yukon is a beautiful mix of the long isolated stretches of nothingness like North Dakota and the deep thick woods of Wisconsin but with mountains stretching out across the skyline like jagged clouds that preferred the earth over the sky. Unlike the woods of Wisconsin that brought on a haunting fear of the unknown, these woods seemed sweet and wonderful , like at any point you could just park your car on the side of the road and walk in as if it was a bar with a neon open sign. If these woods were plagued by some witch it would be the kind that grant wishes and turns pumpkins in to carriages. The purple flowers adorned the side of the road like it was some old road in a fairy tail where great kings would walk. At one point I was toying with the fantasy of going on a walking tour. “I have my backpack, some warm clothes, a sleeping bag my new Knife and plenty of water. I could pull over and take a quick walk if only to stretch my legs. As I was imagining the things I could see on this walk the thoughts of sailors at sea came to me. Perhaps it was the isolated feeling of being in a sea of trees or my guardian angel trying to warn me, I remembered the Sirens of Greek mythology. Their beautiful voices luring men to their death. Perhaps there was a witch out in these woods, or some old magic wrought by the first peoples of Canada. I made the sign of the cross and the woods held their wonder no more.
One of the odder parts of my trip in the Yukon is the amount of abandoned gas stations and accompanying buildings. Just buildings setting on the side of the road long abandoned and decaying, glass broken, and signs left hanging at odd angles. They further increase the sense of isolation, like you’re all alone in some far flung future where no one still lives. I don’t know why they failed but from what I gathered this would be my guess.
There was rarely 2 closed gas stations in a row along the road. It almost always went open gas stations, closed and then open again. The ones that were closed looked older, like they had old style pumps. Maybe with the advances made to gas tanks and MPG people could travel further and thus get gas at every other station rather then at every station. And doesn’t just sum up a common but ignored problem with this run away train of “advancedments” sure we can go further for longer. But we’re meeting less people along the way, seeing less under the lie that we see more.
It was around 9:30 when the Kluane Lake came into view. This unbelievably large lake so large that there were small waves white capping against the bank. As I looked down the road I saw what I thought was a low cloud for a fog of mist floating across the water but to my shock it was Sand from some lakeside beach that was being blown up and far with the wind like a sandstorm. The sun shining it’s last ray of the day as it slowly crept behind the mountain side sent a beam of light over the rolling peaks right into the sand as it flew up casting this clear shimmering light across the sand cloud. causing specks of light flowing in and out as grains of sand reflected the sun’s rays crossing its path. It lasted only an instant as the sun set behind the majestic Mountains.
I arrived at my hotel around 10:30 and good thing too, they stop handing out keys after 11. This may be the strangest place I’ve stayed yet. There’s a gas station and inside a little convenience store, a small restaurant and a the hotel check in. Behind the hotel lay 4 large trailers with several rooms. It’s right on the lake and there are many RVs here. I suspect it’s mainly used by fishermen, truckers, and bikers. It’s my last night in Canada, and I wish the sun would finally set for real. It has been many days since I last gazed upon the night sky and seen the pale moon shining down. And out here in this emptiness I have no doubt I would see more stars than I have ever seen before but I do not think it is meant to be. It’s currently half past midnight as I write this and the sky's still blue as if it was evening and dusk had just settled. It is as if the sun was playing tricks on the moon. Setting the table and inviting the moon to come out only to snatch away the plate and throw the moon out. If I had known I would not see the moon for many days I would have gazed upon it in wonder. We never really appreciate the beauty of everyday things till we don’t see em everyday
July 10.
As I laid in bed the sense of calm washed over me. Today was the last day. I would leave the hotel and drive 10 hours and reach my new home. Then the fear came out and covered me like a sudden rain on a summer day. I’d have to find a job, a place to live, make new friends, find a new parish. What if I hated my new job? What if I sucked at it? What if I couldn’t find a place that I could afford? Laying there in the bed I stared up at the ceiling and panic began to creep in. But before my nerves could give way the sun shined through the creak I left in the curtains. Warm bright light hit my face and jolted me out of my anxious state of mind. No sense worrying about tomorrow when today still lies ahead. So I gathered my things, dropped off my key, filled up the car and heading to Alaska.
The last road out of the Yukon was so perilous that I did not need to imagine unseen watchers in the woods who wished me harm. The Canadian’s who built this road clearly wished me dead. More than once I’d hit a dip in the road only to immediately hit a second dip causing my back wheels to lose traction sending me back and forth across the road, empty cans of redbull and vapes flying around my car as I tried to wrestle control back and avoid flying off the side to the ditches below. Thankfully I was the only one on the road and I was able to correct my course without causing any damage to myself, the trees or other cars.
After about 2 hours I approached the “welcome to Alaska” sign. Pulling over for pictures I saw the “international boundary marker” and was able to place one foot in Canada and the other in America. Jumping back and forth like a school boy saying “Canada, America” I laughed at myself till I noticed the American border security staring at me like I was some lost autistic child. Composing myself I grabbed some pictures and continued down the road till I saw the US customs building. After waiting about 20 minutes in line I handed the guard my passport and answered some questions. I was given the A-ok and fully passed back into America. Turning on my radio I played track 9 from my CD of the Muppet movie soundtrack, and appreciated seeing road signs and speed limits that I understood to the tune of Fozzie bear singing America the Beautiful
After the song ended I noticed that I had no cell reception and my gps wasn’t working. But I knew the general direction I needed to go after picking up some tater tots from a native woman. I continued on my way.
The closer I got to my destination the more nervous I became as the fears from this morning returned. I hate being a burden to my friends and family and I was becoming increasingly worried that I would fail and have to move back in shame. I clutched my rosary and prayed. The fear persisted but it was lessened after
Now I’m not telling you something you probably didn’t already know but My God is Alaska beautiful. Mountains so tall clouds break alert and sweep through not over. Large rivers flowing so fast the waves were whitecaping, beautiful rock formations. With every bend of the road a new sight to life my heart appeared. I’ve never been an artistic fellow, autistic maybe but never artistic but I want to learn how to paint so that I could eventually grab a canvas, an easel and some paint. Walk up to a beautiful view, sit there and spend hours trying to capture the gorgeous land God created.
After 15 days, 9 hotels, one campsite and over 5,000 miles I reached my destination. As I sit here writing this final entry, I think back to all the things I’ve seen and people I’ve met along the way. My heart is full, I proved those who believed in me right and those who didn’t wrong, I saw beautiful churches, cities, mountains, lakes, rivers and fields. I made it across the continent without a single problem. No run-ins with cops, no traffic fines, not even a flat tire. Truly our Lady of highways was with me and I thank God for his love and the intercession of his saints, Saint Brendan and saint Christopher and I thank you for reading, following me along my journey and keeping me in your prayers.