For most, Monday’s commute was likely accompanied by a sense of dread. With whiteout conditions on the interstate and heavy snow falling, central Iowans had a white knuckle drive home from work thatevening.
Not me though, I loved every minute of it. Even though I hate the bitter cold winter inevitably brings, there’s nothing quite as magical as fresh fallen snow. Six inches might’ve seemed like a lot, considering the last few Iowa winters have been mostly mild, but it’s just the tip of the iceberg compared to Alaska.
In 2012, my mom and I headed north to compete in the ALCAN 5000, a distance rally that took us from Washington, across western Canada and into Alaska. Named after the distance it represents, the 5,000 was only the first half of our journey, we still had to go back. Like Johnny Horton's Big Sam, "we crossed the majestic mountains to the valleys far below."
Way up north in Alaska we saw the northern lights, and snow like you couldn’t believe. One morning in Valdez, we came out of our hotel to find that it snowed more than two feet overnight, blanketing the cars in the parking lot. Working in teams we’d pass truckers on two lane roads, using ham radios and blind faith in whiteout conditions. Mighty men indeed, mom and I.
The brainchild of Jerry Hines, the long distance rally has been running since 1984, the longest event in North America. Held every other year, the event, like the Olympics, alternates between a summer rally oriented more toward motorcycles and a winter event. It’s been six years since we went way up north, and I still think about it often.
What I remember most about the event is the driving. You can’t cover 5,000 miles in two weeks if you don’t start early, and every day we were up early in the perpetual twilight of the Arctic. We didn’t see much sunlight those days, stuck in a dismal gray dirge that rendered everything in grayscale, but there was plenty to see. We finished the rally in Anchorage, which coincided with the start of the Iditarod, a bucket list item if there ever was one.
Like me, Mom’s always had a thirst for adventure. She might have grumbled, but it wasn’t hard to talk her out of leaving sunny Florida in the middle of winter to fly to Portland and meet up with me. Loaded up on scopolamine patches, for motion sickness, Mom was an ace navigator despite the fact we’re both more than a little dyslexic. Part of our morning preflight ritual was to use a Sharpie to draw an R and an L on the corresponding hand, an attempt to prevent confusion mid rally.
The ALCAN wasn’t the first time I’ve dragged my Mom into a project that turned out to be a little bigger than either of us had imagined.
Up north Mom never drove, and she never complained about my driving, even as we edged closer and closer to an average speed of 80 mph. I was counting on the Subaru’s all wheel drive system and studded snow tires to carry us through.
When it got extra hairy, she’d just grip the sides of her seat tightly. Make no doubt about it, mom is tough, which is why I’m trying to convince her to go back.
The summer ALCAN takes place this year, and I’ve been trying to convince Mom on the idea that what we really need is a motorcycle with a sidecar. Something tough and easy to fix. After all, with a sidecar I promised her she wouldn’t ever have to drive.
For more information about the ALCAN 5000 check out www.alcan5000.com.
Contact David Dolmage
at ddolmage@newtondailynews.com