The people you run into

I'll be the first to admit that I'm not the most social being walking the planet in my day to day life but when out here roaming around backroads during my travels I seek out interaction with people I run across. I assume that the characters out here have a story and in most cases, I find that to be true.  I think the remote, wild, open places left in the world draw interesting people to it.  If not to put down roots and live but just for a brief period of adventure.  I've met and had some interesting interactions with a few them over the past few weeks. Had I spent this time down in the congestion and mass of humanity in cities I can state that I would most likely have not met, much less sat alongside some dirt road, talking for hours while sharing a can of sardines. Funny to me how out here I seek and enjoy interacting with people. In the cities and mass of people that go along with that environment, I avoid it at all costs.  Here are but a few that I've run across so far.  I'm sure there are more out there roaming around.

While well north on the Canol Road in the Yukon I ran across Roland who was camped on a remote lake about a quarter mile from where I set up for the night. While out walking Petey figured I'd walk to his camp and get his story.   Roland was a man of few words.  Trying to converse with Roland was like watching the grass grow. I'm asking questions and Roland is reluctantly answering.  Not out of rudeness, but Roland didn't see the need for much conversation.  Having lived his entire life in the Yukon he was now retired who was out for a couple of weeks to do some fishing.  Not having garnered much about Roland's history, I wished him well and began to leave when out of the blue he invited me go out on his boat later that evening for some fishing. I later figured out he wanted me along in the event he needed someone to help him paddle back. It doesn't get dark till after midnight this far north so he said we'd go out around 7 or so.  Sounded like fun so I agreed I'd come back to his camp after securing Petey in the camper. The lake where we were camped is huge.  About 20 miles in length and in places miles across.   There is absolutely nothing on these lakes in the way of civilization.  Having figured we'd just go out for a short distance, I didn't figure I'd need much.  I should have as Roland decided he knew of a sweet fishing hole that ended up being on the far side of the lake and about 12 miles to the north. This spot was located after the motor would not start at his camp for the first 5 minutes of yanking on the starter cord.  I'm thinking since the motor didn't seem to be running all that well we'd stick close to camp which I mentioned to Roland. Nope, didn't seem to phase old Roland and we struck out for about 12 miles to the north.  Stated we had a paddle which appeared to have seen a lot of use over the years.  If one were to break down on the far side of the lake or anywhere for that matter it is a long, long, long hike in true wilderness to get out. Where we ended up would have been an odyssey. Roland was the only other person I'd seen all day.  In the 6 hours we ended up being on the lake....not one boat was seen.  This is grizzly country out here and terrain that is not conducive to simply strolling back to camp.  Had that piece of shit ten horsepower outboard gone tits up or the weather had flared up and we were unable to cross back over open water up I think Roland and I would have ended cuddling for warmth that night. A thought that was repulsive at best. Where Roland's secret fishing hole was located would have taken a day, if not more, to get out.   Roland had no provisions, flashlight, bear spray, camping gear, nothing! The thought of hiking out of here without food was one thing.  Doing so in this kind of terrain without bear spray....I'll take a pass on that. Two fishing rods, a questionable paddle and a piece of shit outboard were the provisions.  Oh yea, the boat appeared to have a slow leak as well.  Roland did however have a milk jug for bailing so he did have that area covered.  Had I known where in the hell we were going, and the condition of the boat, I would have brought more that a light windbreaker. Hell, who am I kidding, my ass would be back at the truck with Petey.  Now I've put myself out on a limb a few times in the outdoors over the years but the way Roland rolled was simply asking for more adventure than one might be seeking. Something as simple as a fouled spark plug, broken starter rope, etc., and it would be an "oh shit" moment. When he shut the motor off at his secret hole I began praying to the lake gods and anyone else that would listen that his clapped out motor would crank back up.  It did, we survived and I got back to Petey around 1:00 am the following morning after a wet, bumpy ride back to camp.  It was an experience hanging out with Roland. He was truly one of those characters you don't forget.

Meet Roland.

Came across Oso (pretty sure this was his name as I forgot to write it down), who is from Japan, while on the Dempster in the Yukon.  The Dempster is a dirt road which begins outside Dawson City and goes to Inuvik in the Northwest Territory. It is one way in, one way out.  460 miles in...460 miles back out to pavement. From Vancouver to Inuvik is roughly 2600 miles via the most direct route which he hadn't been on.  The Dempster, when wet can be a bad road and require four wheel drive in places.  Oso had started his ride in Vancouver, BC and finally turned around in Inuvik simply because you can go no further north via road and was headed south back to Vancouver when I met him. Now I've done a little bicycle touring back in the day and even rode from Baltimore back to Bend, Oregon one summer, but that is child's play when one considers Oso's adventure.  Not only was Oso doing some major back roads on his trip, as he'd already done part of the Canol, but he was doing this on a little city type bike with small tires which was loaded to the nines in some remote country.  His bike was certainly not designed to be ridden where he was at. As an example when you start the Dempster the next spot in the road with any services is 250 miles. Nothing in between other than wilderness. When I mentioned his small tires it should be noted that he only had one of them. In the picture below you'll note he doesn't actually have a rear tire on the bike.  It had disintegrated outside of Inuvik, almost 200 miles back, and he took an old sheet and quilt he'd found, cut it up in strips and had used wire, twine and anything else he could find to make a tire and secure it to the rim. I kid you not. He had no rubber, just strips of cloth for a tire.  He could only ride when the road was really firm and even then at an extremely slow bumpy pace.  Wet and he couldn't ride at all.  I met him when it had been raining for the past two days and he'd been walking, pushing the bike through mud and slop for the previous 70 miles. He was walking until he reached pavement and then planned to walk/push/ride to Whitehorse.  He was probably still 550 miles from Whitehorse! Stated that he'd been camping every night and had a bear encounter a few nights back which kind of rattled him.  Asked him whether it was a grizzly or black bear bear...."me no know, just big". Had a great attitude about the whole situation and stated it was just one of those things. I offered to load him up and drive him all the way back to Whitehorse but he'd have none of that.  He'd set out to ride from Vancouver to Inuvik, turn it around, and ride it back under his own power. By god, that is exactly what he was doing. Come hell, high water or no tire he was pressing on. He stated that it was just bad luck that he had no rear tire but he wouldn't be taking a ride from anyone as long as he was able to walk. He was thankful that he was able to walk/push the bike and was still healthy enough to complete his journey. I was impressed and sat alongside the road sharing some sardines while he filled me in on his trip. I inquired as to why he didn't do the trip on a bike more suited for a trip of this magnitude and he stated this was the only bike he had.  Why would he get a different one? I wish it would have been later in the day and he was going to set up camp. I'd of stayed. Sharing a campsite with him would have been a real pleasure as meeting and shooting the shit with people like this is what makes traveling on the back roads an experience. I asked him if there was anything I could help with, food, water, tools, anything? He stated he required nothing other than his health, so I wished him well and moved on. After only spending maybe half and hour with Oso I have no doubt he is still out there heading south somewhere.  Hopefully, with a new tire.  Oso....you are "the man"!

While on the Top of the World Highway.  Funny to me how they label roads up here that are nothing but dirt/gravel as highways.  They are anything but!  Anyway, I decided to turn off the Top of the World and drive a side road that goes north for about 65 miles to a little village called Eagle, Alaska.  It's another one way in, one way out road. As I was getting low on soup I was hoping they'd have a little store or something to get a couple of cans as I planned to spend at least one night in Eagle.   I eat a lot of soup out here.  Economical and easy, Cook and eat out of the same bowl.  Clean bowl and you're done.  As I'm rolling into Eagle, which isn't much, I see a cabin with junk all over the place and a hand scribbled sign out front.......groceries.   Couldn't really tell where to enter as there were numerous doors so I just picked one.  Wrong one.  Room was floor to ceiling of junk.  Next one looked like a storage shed for the groceries to stock the store but just as I was backing out I hear a voice.  Come on in, we're open. Sitting in the middle of all this crap was Frank, owner and storekeeper.  Snacks, soup, crackers, candy bars, enough Top Ramen to feed the state, etc., stacked along some shelves with Frank plopped down right in the middle wearing some coveralls that had enough grease on them to lube the space shuttle.  If you wanted to look at something you literally had to climb over his crap to get to it.  Most of the stuff wasn't priced so you just held it up and he'd tell you how much. He'd been at this same spot for over 40 years.  Told me it was a work in progress. Yea, you think?  Apparently, not much work had gone into it lately other than opening the door and shoving stuff in.  Love people like this.  If you want something here it is.  If you don't like the setup........get the hell out and go somewhere else!  Was fun talking to him for a brief period before he got a phone call and had to attend to some resupply matters.

While doing the south and north Canol you have to cross the Pelly River by ferry in Ross River.  Ferry only runs from 8 to 5.  I got there late so I begin looking for a place to pop up for the night.  Just back down the road with a small church and the lady was out front doing some yard work so I pulled in and asked if anyone would care if I camped next to the ferry crossing.  It's a First Nation town so you don't want to camp just anywhere on Indian land.  She insisted that I camp in her front yard and that they were having a church social gathering with food in about an hour and I was welcome.  So I take her up on the offer and set up.  Sure enough in about an hour people start showing up with food.  I'm being social trying to talk with some of the locals while consuming "real food".  One of the elders comes up to me and asks if I can give them a hand with something.  About that time an old pick-up backs up to the front steps of the church and has something in the back covered up with a large tarp.  I follow him over and when he removes the tarp it's a pine box casket.  Yep, had a body in it and they needed help moving it into the church.  The social gathering with food turned out to be a wake!  Not sure the church lady should have been inviting this whitey to the Indian wake.  After hauling the body in I turned to the Elder and felt I needed to offer some type of condolence which I did.  His respone......oh hell don't worry about, he was a pain in the ass and drunk most of the time.  I went back outside and continued to consume "real food".  Didn't think taking pictures would have been appropriate so I left the camera alone.

At the wake I met the church lady's husband, John.  John invited me to go out in his off terrain vehicle the following morning and he'd show me some of the area up over the ridge where he hunts.  Now John is a devout Catholic man which I found out during our 3 hour long excursion.  He talked non-stop about the Lord.  Now I've sat in a few church pews over the years and believe in a higher being of some sort but John was the real deal.  After listening to John, I fully expected to come around a corner and see the good Lord picking blueberries, skinning a Moose and clearing trail.   Didn't have the heart to tell him that I didn't think the good Lord would be hanging out in Ross River.   With his pull, he could pick a better spot.

John's back yard.

John showing me around.

Wish I could have gotten this guys story.  Old headstone in Eagle cemetery.