On the Road to Inuvik: Dispatches

Jack Stafford, July 17^th

Tues, 7/16

Left around 8pm from Costa Mesa, CA. All the weeks of preparation finally come to an end 'cause it's showtime. Odometer 235,200 miles.

My intention was to leave at night to miss the LA traffic jam and run the engine cool through the San Joaquin valley. The reek of a slaughter- house came and went just east of Bakersfield. The Mountain Dew keeps me going to an I-5 rest area just south of the Los Banos cutoff. Cockroaches scurry under the orange glow of the street lights here. My AM radio catches Art Bell's talk show, tonight's topic is vampirism. Then to sleep.

Wed, 7/17

A blackbird has caught a roach for breakfast. It's 7:30 and time to get rolling again. When I approached the 580 I got on it headed west for some reason. Instinctively heading for the East bay, I drove to the WalMart in Dublin. I tried to phone Martha and left a message. Not much reason for visiting the east bay, I backtrack the 580 to resume a northerly course on I-5.

I must be approaching Sacramento because the people here drive like their hair is on fire. Nothing against Sacto, this behavior is found in every metropolitan city I've ever driven through. I hunker down in the rt lane. It's hot in the valley but the motor is not objecting, everything is tip-top. Near Dunnigan I fill the solar shower bag and bungee it to the roof rack. North of Red Bluff I stop at another rest area for a long, warm shower. This feels incredible. After brushing my teeth I feel alive again. I will never rib Martha about having to have a shower on any campout, ever. Odometer 236,126 miles.

Refuelled in Yreka. The south exit has a VW junkyard with several split window busses in view from the northbound lanes of I-5. I add some Rain-X to the windscreen and back on I-5. Fuel lasts all the way to Curtin, OR. It's chilly out so I throw on a sweatshirt and shoes. Further up the road I stop at a rest area near Saginaw. After 14 hours of driving I relax by listening to a Mariner's game and quaffing a Paulaner Pils.

Thurs, 7/18

Northward through Eugene and Portland. I was in the Beaverton area on business last February. Record low temps and flooding made the trip really memorable. There's a certain McMinnamin's pub around the Tigard area that had good food and brew but I never did find it again, so back on I-5. One stop for lunch in N.Portland at a little Mexican food joint. Fantastic carnitas burrito so I went back in and ordered another one. The rain is coming down hard. The raindrops slip across the windscreen leaving small trails - the Rain-X is working. On the side windows droplets swirl and dance circles in the vortex. I cross the Washington state border.

The Olympia Brewery is located at the junction of I-5 and 101. They do not malt the grain on premises. Malted barley arrives by rail car from an undisclosed location. Oly mashes rice and corn separately from the barley and 2 parts barley to 1 part rice/corn mix go into their brew. The liquid wort is pumped into a boiler where hop pellets are added. The spent grains go to feed local livestock. Lager yeast ferments then the beer is aged at 31*F. Pabst has owned the Oly brewery for the past 10 years. There is an Oly dark beer sold exclusively at the Olympia brewery's gift shop.

I phone Clara and get directions to her home. The first time I got lost and missed a turn then got the unguided tour of the Olympia area. Once I found her address I pulled into the "Volkswagen only" parking area. The tour of all the splitties here was impressive. She was preparing for a vintage meet up north. I driveway camped, then asked directions into town the next morning. Odometer 236,354 miles.

Fri, 7/19

I found a record store, coffee house, health food store and a wonderful food co-op. Further up I-5 I stopped at Mark's NW Foriegn Auto for some spare ignition components. As I parked I remembered the same boarded up restaurant and parking lot where I fiddled around with my old 1700 engine and carbs. That was 10 years ago, and the place hasn't changed at all. Weird Deja-vu feeling.

Back on I-5, then east on 90 to Snoqualmie and North Bend, WA. This is the place where the TV show, Twin Peaks was filmed. Not every element of the story was completely explained (use imagination). Most US viewers prefer their TV "spoon-fed" to them so TP was cancelled. The dense forest on each side of 90 and Mt. Si looming over the town reminded me of "the evil in these woods". I had lunch at the Double-R diner with a damn fine cup of Joe. The waitresses gave me a map to help find the filming locations around town. I snapped photos of the Packard mill, sheriff station, the train trestle where Ronette was found, the Road House, Great Northern hotel and the long waterfall shown in the opening credits of each program.

This may be boring many of you folks to tears so let's move on...

I tried to phone an old friend of mine that moved to Monroe, WA but his number was not in service anymore. I decided to just show up on his doorstep. He's a real family man now with 3 kids, wife and house. I hung out for the evening and camped on the street in front of his house. More Art Bell on the AM radio, tonight's topic was "remote viewing" with Prof. Courtney Brown.

Sat, 7/20

After breakfast I got back on I-5 and made a run for the border. Bellingham was my final US fuel stop. My friends from Monroe suggested the truck border crossing as it was faster than the peace arch. After a 10 minute wait the guard asked my point of origin, reason for entering Canada. Then a few quick questions regarding alcohol and tobacco and I was on my way into the great white north. Highway 99 north and found Tobin Copley's building in downtown Vancouver without any deviation. Great directions he mailed to me weeks ago. Odometer 236,650 miles.

Breathtaking vista of the area from his 13th floor apartment. The Stutsman family arrived, followed by Ron Lussier, then Jorge & Ivette. Ron's driving a new EuroVan camper with a propane tank that lacks ground clearance. I spend the night sleeping in an underground parking garage with no windows. The smallest sound echoes in this manmade cavern. I hope the radio can pick up Art Bell's radio show under all this brick and concrete. The headphones come in real handy at this point. ZZZzzz.

Jack