TRAVLES OF SEAJAY AND WILLA .......

A COUPLE OF YOU GUYS HAVE ASKED FOR THIS SO HERE IT IS . IT IS SATIRE OF OUR TRIP TO ALASKA ....... ENJOY ........... THERE WILL BE MORE IF YOU GUYS WANT IT ....


This is the odyssey of the travels of my wife and myself on a trip we took to Alaska. We left on the twenty third day of May and returned back to North Carolina on late August. During the trip we traveled about 16000 miles and we were gone about four months.

The travels of Seajay and Willa.
First hand account of the trials and tribulations of motor home travel.

Me and Willa left North Carolina in a thirty three foot, A class motor home on May 23rd . It was loaded to the extreme with all the necessities for motor home camping. We had plenty of food, maps, rope, tools, fishing equipment, and all the other necessities that you just don’t travel without. We had a case of duct tape (because you never know when you might run across a Duck that need taping.) We also carried our entire collection of cassette tapes in a large cardboard box.

We have a Geo Tracker that we pull behind the coach that is used for exploring and servers the purpose of a “rolling basement” and a rolling stowage area for miscellaneous items that are pretty much useless but are too good to throw away. These items are referred to as “STUFF”. Some of the “stuff” in the back seat of the Tracker was a follows: 100 feet of rope, one axe (very dull, handle cracked and taped) one satellite dish with 50 feet of coax. One satellite dish stand. A shovel with a broken handle. Several pieces of 2 by 12 for leveling the van. A tow rope. A large blue tarp. 3 fishin’ rods. 2 tackle boxes. 100 feet of garden hose and a lot of other “STUFF”.

We headed west from North Carolina thru Tennessee and Kentucky and thru two states that start with the letter “I”. We rambled thru the mid western states and on to South Dakota. We stopped and looked when we found something interesting and we were really enjoying the trip. We crossed South Dakota and turned north thru Wyoming.

Laughter, fun and food were the order of the day and everyday was a new adventure. We had never been thru Customs before and we were concerned about crossing into Canada. The fear of the unknown is a terrible thing and we had heard horror stories about people being strip-searched and their van ripped apart by the customs agents.
As we crossed Wyoming we prepared for the dreaded customs inspection. We had our medical records, birth certificates, and all or registration papers for the van and the Tracker. We made a list of the liquors, tobacco, beer, and any other thing we could think of so we would be prepared for any question. We quizzed each other with questions we thought they might ask at the border. We memorized the license numbers of the two vehicles. We wanted to be ready and whiz thru customs without a hitch.
As we approached the border I could see that Willa was a little nervous. She had become very quiet and her left hand was shaking a little.
“They can strip search us, can’t they”?
“Sure they can but don’t worry, I’ll do all the talking and we wont have any trouble at all”.
We eased up to the customs station and I stopped the van right in front of the window. I put the van in park and slid the side window open.
“Howdy”.
It took about 2 seconds to see that this customs agent was all business. She looked over her glasses at me and did not smile.
“Name”.
I blurted out my name.
“Number of people”
“Uuuhhhhhhhhh ……….. I’m the only one in here with that name. Her name is Willa, but I’m the only one named Seajay”.
She looked over her glasses at me again and typed something in the computer.
“No sir, I mean how many people are in the van”.
Fear enveloped me. I had blown it. I had given a bad answer and she had written something down and I knew we were in trouble. I glanced at Willa and she was wrapped with fear. Her body was contorting into a shape like Quazimoto and she was starting to drool. I could just see the both of us in a cold room with some big-fingered customs agent probing for contraband while two other agents ripped the van apart with crowbars. I tried to regain my composure but my hands were starting to shake and I wet my pants but I tried to remain calm. With a tremble in my voice I replied.
“Two of us. Just me and Willa. No one else, except us, together, her and me, alone, except for each other, together, by our selves but with each other alone”. I smiled a friendly smile.
She wrote something else into the computer.
“Destination”.
“Alaska. Me and Willa are going to Alaska. We are going to travel straight thru to Alaska. We ain’t gonna stop. We are just passing thru Canada to get to Alaska because that’s where we are going. Alaska.”
I realized that this did not sound like we liked Canada and in mid thought I decided that I should at least say something nice about Canada.
“Uuuuuhhhhhh. But we will stop in Canada if it’s ok to stop in Canada. We like Canada and we will stop in Canada too. And spend money, and buy things because we like Canadians because we are sure they are nice folks with stuff to sell, because we brought money to spend in Canada too”.
She looked over her glasses again and typed something in the computer.
“Look mister, I realize that this is probably your first crossing into Canada and you are a little nervous. Just stay calm and just answer the questions and this will make as simple as possible”.
“Are you carrying any guns, tobacco, drugs, beer, wine or liquors”?
“Yes, yes, no, yes, no and yes”.
She laid her head down on the desk and kind of shuttered. She raised her head back and with a determined stare said. “Ok mister, which answer goes with which question.”
I finally got the right answers to the proper questions and she typed something else in the computer.
“How long do you intend to stay in Canada”?
“Ohhhhhhh, for a long time because we like Canada and we like the people too and we uuuhhhhhh…. I don’t know”.
She typed something else into the computer.
“Enjoy your trip sir. You may proceed. Enjoy your journey”.
I was completely taken by surprise. I was dumbfounded. We had cleared customs. I pressed on the accelerator and the engine whined but the van didn’t move. Thinking I had put the van in neutral I moved the gear lever one notch down and gunned the engine. The van lurched backwards and I smashed into the truck behind me breaking out his head light with the bumper of the Tracker.
The customs agent rose from her chair and looked out the window at the truck.
“Just go on sir. No harm done. He would have probably broken the head light anyway”.
I eased out of the border crossing and the entire ordeal had been too much for Willas nerves and she threw up in the box of cassette tapes.
We headed north after I changed my pants and Babe cleaned out the cassette box.
SEAJAY AND WILLA THE ADVENTURE CONTINUES
SKINNUM JOES, GAS AND TIRE REPAIRS
After crossing the border we realized that we had no Canadian money and that we were getting a little low on gas.
“Let’s stop at the next place we see and get some of our money changed and maybe we can get some gas and get the back bumper of the Tracker repaired”.
“I seen a sign that said “Skinnum Joes” up ahead, maybe we could stop there and get some gas”.
There was a sign written in crayon on the front of the gas pump that said
“EXCHANGE RATE 124, 11/14 (plus tax) AMERICAN”
I eased up to the pump.
A guy in coveralls walked up the window on the van.
“How much gas you need pal”?
“Give me 15 gallons please and do you exchange American money”?
“We sell gas by the liter”
“How many liters to the gallon”
“Oh, about 3 and 23/42nds, give or take a little”
“Sooooo, how much do I need for 15 gallons”?
“I ain’t sure. We can figure that out later”.
He stuck the nozzle in the gas filler and pressed the lever. Now it should be understood that some of these pumps up in Canada are the old mechanical type pump that still work on the “rotating number” system and this was one of those pumps. As he squeezed the lever the pump started running and the longer he held the lever the faster the numbers went. At somewhere between three and five gallons the numbers became a blur and the pump started to shake violently.
“Guess I need a re-balance on the numbers again”.
“I’ll go in and get some money changed over into Canadian dollars so I can pay for the gas”.
To be sure I would get some small bill in Canadian money I gave the guy behind the counter four one hundreds, five twenties, two fifties, three tens, two fives, three ones and a hand full of change. The guy behind the counter smiled at me and said that since I was getting a rather large amount changed that Skinnum Joe would split the “exchange tax” so I would save money.
“That will be fifty four dollars and seventy cents pal”.
“Soooo, how many gallons did I get”?
“Well, if you take the liters and multiply them by three and eleven twenty-fourths and then you divide that by the number of gallons you wanted and then you divide that by the exchange rate of one twenty four plus a little and deduct the exchange tax from that you will see how much this is in American money and you will find I gave you a real bargain on the gas because you are our first customer of the day”.
I thanked Skinnum Joe and walked back to the van.
“Ask him if he can fix the bumper on the Tracker”.
“He don’t fix bumpers, he just sells gas and fixes flats. We can get it fixed later”.

We headed north. The adventure continues ………..

When you have a tow vehicle behind your motor home that vehicle becomes a convent place to store “STUFF”. I use my Tracker as sort of a “rolling basement” and I use the back seat for storing things that I am too lazy to put back in the compartments of the van. The further we go the more “STUFF” we seem to accumulate and the deeper the “STUFF” gets in the back seat of the tracker. Here is a brief inventory of “STUFF” that we had accumulated in the back seat.
One satellite dish with stand and all assorted parts including 100 feet of coax.
One shovel (the handle is broken about half way down but it’s still handy)
One ax (the handle is loose and cracked and the blade is very dull but its nice for firewood)
100 feet of nylon rope. (It was coiled up but it is now tangled with the satellite dish and the coax and the shovel, the ax, and the other “stuff”)
50 feet of garden hose with a flattened hose bib. (I can fix that later)
A pizza box with two slices of anchovy pizza left over in it.
Several sticks of firewood (left by another camper)
Six pieces of 2 x 8 lumber used for leveling the van when we park.
Assorted other “STUFF” too numerous to mention and too valuable to throw away.
I eased the van into the campground and we set up for the night.
“Honey, hook up the dish so I can watch Wheel of Fortune. You know how I love to watch that show and the only channel we can get on the antenna is in French and I want to see “wheel”.
“No problem darling, I’ll get it done in a few minutes”
I opened the passenger door and slid the seat forward. Somewhere under the “stuff” was the satellite antenna. I leaned over and tried to lift the “stuff “ with my right hand so I could remove the satellite with my left hand. I squatted down beside the car for better leverage and as I got the “stuff” lifted the first “skeeter” bit me between my belt and the bottom of my shirt. He was one of those famous humming bird size “skeeters” that only takes a pint of blood. I swatted at him with my free hand, lost my balance and my feet slid under the Tracker and I wound up in the seated position with my right hand trapped under about fifty pounds of “stuff”. In disgust I laid my head on the seat trying to compose myself when a fellow camper came by. He assumed that I was praying and he knelt beside me and bowed his head. I waited until he said Amen and left before I continued cursing under my breath. About then the “skeeters” came back in force and they used attack plan “B”. That is where they all light at once and start eating. About that time Willa opened the door of the van.
“Who are you waving at dear”?
“Why are you working on the car”?
“You shouldn’t sit on the ground, you will get your clothes dirty”.
“You better hurry up because Wheel comes on in about ten minutes”>
“Why are you cursing”?
The answer I gave cannot be printed so I will have to leave this part of the story out. It is safe to assume that her response was to slam the van door hard enough to knock the lens off the outside light and to get me a night on the couch with cold beans for supper. My hand is healing nicely now and we are back on speaking terms but Willa missed Wheel of Fortune that night….

THE COOK OUT ……
It should be understood that some of the campgrounds along the Alaska Highway are “Primitive” Some of the campsites are not really level and there are trees in your way when you try to unroll your awning.
We stopped for the night in Swamp water Campground. The camping was only ten dollars Canadian. I backed the camper in and we were setting up for the night when Babe suggested we grill some steaks. The weather was slightly threatening so I decided to unroll the awning for protection. It should be understood that not all camp grounds have picnic tables and sometimes if you want to “grill out’ you have to improvise. This involves finding a trashcan, turning the lid upside down on top of it for a “grill stand”. This works well as long as no one has thrown fish in the trash can recently.
I unlatched the awning and pulled on the strap to unroll it. We were parked beside a tree and the awning would only unroll a little over half way. I found a clean trashcan and made me a table and set the grill on top of it. The wind was puffing a little and the awning was flapping so I decided to stabilize the awning by tying the pull strap to the handle of the trashcan. The grill was heating nicely and I put on the steaks. Willa started fixing salad and some garlic bread in the van while I tended the steaks. They were coming along nicely so I stepped inside to get some refreshment (beer). At the moment I stepped back out the door of the van a puff of wind “ballooned” the awning up. It had just enough force to move the awning to make the awning “re roll itself”. With that the awning developed a mind of its own. The ‘rewind” spring took over and the awning shot back toward the van like a loosed window shade. As the awning re rolled its self the “pull strap” was snatched up and inward. The trashcan did a double back flip and was yanked toward me and the side of the van with the grill doing a half gainer with a full twist while the steaks went flying to parts unknown while I was dodging the flying trash can being propelled at me like a freight train. I dodged the trashcan but it smashed into the side of the van. The grill was lying on its side with the charcoal scattered in the grass and the steaks were in the gravel road in front of the van.
“Honey, why are you hitting the van with the trashcan”
“Why did you throw the steaks in the road”?
“Why are you setting the grass on fire with the charcoal”?
“Why is the grill laying on the ground”?
The answer I gave got me a salad with garlic bread and cold beans for supper and another night on the sofa ……..