The ALCAN Diary, Episode 3, The Defender Idled, then towed
This is Episode 3 of the ALCAN diary. See earlier postings for episode 1 and 2.
Day 49, Monday, September 26th
Ron was absolutely right, it was a cold night. In fact, damned cold. Although sleeping in half of the rear of the Defender was not exactly what I would call comfortable, it was workable. I slept - when I slept - diagonally across the rear with my legs propped up on one of the the side benches or in the fetal position. At least I proved to myself finally that it could be done after wondering for 23 years. My new canvass roof provided almost as much insulation as my wonderful Northface tent. And although I was just feet away from the ALCAN, there was no traffic on the highway to keep me awake.
We were both awaken at about 7 a.m. In the dark by the strangest sound, almost like a shrill quick siren. Later we discovered it was a huge black bird that liked to perch atop a tall nearby pole. Was it some kind of a warning, I thought.
All of the Defender 's windows were covered with ice, and when I finally got up the energy and nerve to alight the Defender, after clumsily crawling from the rear to my front seat, I found the Defender and everything on it were iced over with frost, proof of how cold it had been, and still was.
The very first thing I did after emerging into the cold Yukon and when daylight appeared was to get a fix on where I had been pulled. To the east was a view of a long line of mountains that people pay dear money to live near. To the west was another story. If some Hollywood movie producer ever needed a set that exudes destruction, abandonment, or run down, this was it. A wasteland. Old trucks and cars, salvaged from wrecks and abandoned, littered the property. Abandoned,run-down cabins were all over. A former garage with three bays dominated the landscape and the old signs all over spoke to Klunae Village's past as a once-thriving place. What destroyed this place, I wondered. I probably passed it in its heyday in 1992 when I took a bus through here, maybe even stopped here. Same in 2000 and 2001, but not in 2013 as it was abandoned before that.
The second sign of life showed up around 8 in the form of the woman whose wheel broke on the ALCAN. She had spent the night in her car, too, which Ron promised to repair starting at 8 so she could get on her way. He broke his promise only because he was exhausted from his chores on the ALCAN the night before and because it was so cold. The woman, Elena, a former Russian nurse, told me Ron lived in an RV which he parked in one of the garage's bays. Ron later told me he came by the RV after it rolled off the side of the ALCAN earlier in the year.
Ron eventually got the woman's KIA rolling again, and then came over to work on replacing my fuel filter. His associate, Charley, drove up at the same time. Ron dove under the Defender and tried to remove and replace the fuel filter, but after trying futilely for an hour, he said that the fuel filter was fine, and turned his attention to under the hood.
My hopes of getting on the road anytime soon were dashed.
For the next two hours, Ron and Charley tested everything they could with their basic tools. First they thought the problem was distributor, then the ignition coil (I had a spare with me), then the fuses, then the condenser. Finally, at about 3pm, Ron declared that there was nothing more he could do and the Defender would have to be towed to Whitehorse, 200 miles down the road. My only thought was that it was too bad this breakdown did not happen 200 miles down the road, but in the direction Haines, on US soil, which would have given me far better options.
My hopes of making the September 29 ferry to Prince Rupert disappeared.
I asked Ron if he could tow me to Whitehorse since I had already used the four free tows AAA allows, but really because I wanted him to have the money. He agreed, but he had to repair his tow truck first, which he did over the next several hours.
For the rest of the afternoon and evening, bedside innumerable walks with Donner on the ALCAN, I spent thinking about my predicament. Where would I take the Defender? Where would I stay with Donner? How would I get around Whitehorse, which I knew nothing about? How would I handle Donner when I had to run errands? What about Donner's loose stools? What if they cannot get the Defender running soon? And many other questions, all without answers.
As for the first question, Ron suggested the Ford dealer. I called and the said to bring the Defender in and if they could not do it, they would recommend someone who would. My first feeling of relief set in.
The sun disappeared over the mountains shortly after 7 and I readied the Defender for another cold night on the Alcan, but this time I set up the rear so I could have the whole rear. I eventually climbed into my new extended, but still too short, bed for the night, less clumsily than the night before. Continuous process improvement.
Day 50, Tuesday, September 27.
Monday night in the Defender was not as cold as Sunday, but it was still cold, below freezing. And my expanded bed, so to speak, was slightly more comfortable, but not by the same measure as the expanded space. But I managed. I had no choice.
Donner and I were awakened promptly at 7 by the same siren sound as the day before, and I got a chance when daylight broke to see the size of the bird. Bid bird. Maybe even big angry bird.
We were also greeted by more frost, which was better than the snow that blanketed Beaver Creek the night before, I later learned.
Ron showed up shortly after 9 and readied his repaired to truck and trailer for the 200 mile haul to Whitehorse. In the meantime, his three little dogs, led by Little One, spent their time harassing Donner, and who could blame them? I spent my time getting everything organized in the Defender for the long haul but also for the uncertainties of what was ahead of me.
The Defender loaded onto Ron's trailer, we set out for Whitehorse at 10 o'clock.
The first milestone we came to was Destruction Bay, 38 miles down the ALCAN. Essentially, there was nothing there but a gas station and motel. The second was Haines Junction, 60 more miles down the road. Not much more there either. I confirmed my decision to send the AAA tow truck the night before away as I was in a better position having stayed at Ron's yard and had his help and advice.
Although we were riding through some of the most beautiful scenery anywhere, my thoughts on the drive were on my predicament. My words, however, were with Ron. I probably asked him at least one hundred questions about himself, the Yukon, and cars, and got one hundred answers. All I will remember, though, is that he is a hard working, good hearted soul, who likes to help people with their car problems, but who loves living alone with his three little dogs in a salvaged RV in one of the garage bay's in an abandoned resort village 38 miles from the nearest person.
At exactly 2pm, we rolled into thriving downtown Whitehorse, the capital of the Yukon, a city of 27,000 people. The fun, so to speak, was about to begin. Where could I take the Defender for repairs? Where could I stay? How would I get around town? How long would I be here? I was about to get some answers, but not all.
To be continued, although you can look at my postings too see some of the answers.
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