Are we there yet?


It’s June, I’m not in Alaska, and I’m getting antsy to get home. Two more weeks before I can head out, drive though Canada and on up to the Interior. Jeeps are not known for comfortable road trips, but we need the extra rig up there, so I’m elected to volunteer my rear to get it home. Days like today annoy me. It has nothing to do with the weather, it has nothing to do with the location, it has nothing to do with people. It has everything to do with being over with vacation already. I’m on day number 9 and it’s been enough. I’ve trimmed the lilacs, watched the neighbor’s house burn to the ground (on purpose, mind you), driven 80 miles to shop, had company, fixed meals, and now I’m ready to go home. Upcoming is a family reunion, then an in-law’s doctor visit, THEN I get to go home.  I get to drive 45 mph behind the summer motorhomers, campers, and sightseers. I get to wait in lines to fuel up, will avoid all the hotels and motels and sleep in my back seat. I’ll take a cooler, some drinks, some cheese and crackers and mustard and sausage, and I’ll hit the road and drive, drive, drive north. North through wildfire smoke, road construction, folks with flat tires and steaming radiators. North, and along the way I’ll see bears and moose and buffalo and all kinds of wildlife – and no camera. I left it behind, forgotten as I determined to take as little as possible on the jet so it would all fit in the overhead, and left it as I walked out the door. I’m in for mosquitos, great Canadian radio, terrible Canadian food, and rutty rainy roads til I hit Tok where, soon after, at Glenallen, I’ll pull over at a friend’s and sleep with the doors wide open for the bugs and dogs to investigate. Maybe I’ll find this trip different from the many others, enjoy the endless British Columbia and Yukon scenery, but I know from experience that the more you want to be somewhere, the longer it seems to take. But I’ll get there. Sooner or later, I’ll be there, will sit on my deck and look out over my yard and be glad I’m back in Alaska.  It can’t be soon enough.

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