American Way Cover - 2/1/2001

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manager | microwave | car seats | Super Bowl | Alaska

Rolling Through Alaska

by Steve Hendrix

The 29-foot Tioga held us all comfortably as a manager briefed us on its features: microwave oven, beds for six, stand-up shower, propane range, and a refrigerator that runs off propane. He showed us how to fill the water tanks, drain the sewage tanks, and keep the twain from ever meeting. Then he gave the toilet a test flush, flipped on the fridge, tossed me the keys, and walked out. She was all ours.

We tossed our gear aboard, got the girls strapped into their car seats around the kitchen table - within reach of sippy cups and crayons - and lumbered off. First stop: shopping center.

The difference between provisioning a backpack and provisioning an RV is the difference between a Zen tea ceremony and a Super Bowl tailgate party. On the trail, I've been known to pack a single candy bar as a week's worth of dessert, having stripped away the unnecessary outer wrapper to lighten my load. In Alaska, we engaged in a sort of grocery store bacchanal, quickly filling two carts with goods both weighty and perishable: fresh vegetables, beer, wine, ice cream, and a bag of chips.

Fully loaded, we made our way south, shedding the Anchorage suburbs and finally having time to gaze at the panorama framed by our wide picture windows. The saw-blade edge of mountains loomed over the rough green waters of Turnagain Arm, and we stopped at a forested pull-off to ogle the view and cook lunch.

A CATHEDRAL OF OLD-GROWTH EVERGREENS
It's our first night, shakedown night, and we're heading for Hope, a tiny coastal village on the peninsula. At an all-but-deserted campground overlooking the water in the Chugach National Forest, we feel our way through the small challenges of making an RV work properly. I'm surprised to find myself delighted, with both the gizmos and the setting; I had feared a parking lot experience, paved and crowded and anti-natural. Instead, I marvel at one of the most secluded campsites I've seen in my life, a jaw-dropping view of the inlet made lovelier by the scent of garlic sauce simmering on the stove, the joyous giggles of two kids bouncing on the big double bed, and the indulgence of a wilderness cocktail hour featuring single malt and actual ice. Mechanized camping has its perks.


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