An adventure thru the 49th and 51st states

I am in Denali National Park in Alaska, and a large grizzly bear keeps looking at me like I am a plump corndog.
It is unclear if he found me or I found him, but I decide to give the jerky to my too to kind and loving wife and I tell her that I will meet her back at the camp.
I have a head start on her, but she can outrun me, so it is going to be close. I am hoping the plump corndog has one more good race in him.
Okay, let’s start at the beginning. Honestly, they have got to quit leaving me unattended. I am sitting in my overstuffed chair watching my too kind and loving wife work and see an advertisement for Alaska.
I decide that we need to drive to Alaska and yell over the sound of the vacuum. “I am planning a trip to Alaska.”
My too kind and loving wife says, “Who? Where? When? Are you crazy?”
A few days later and 1200 miles I find myself headed north near Calgary and Banff.
On our way, we picked up Bubba since no adventure is complete without someone that is crazier than me.
He makes me look like the rational, calm, sensitive member of the traveling caravan. His wife has mastered the “eye roll” that says, “Just ignore him.”
I have my truck, my camper, my guitar and my too kind and loving wife. She gets to be the camp cook, and I get to clean out the sewer tanks every few days and sing songs around the campfire.
Obviously, she made up the chore list. I ask how come I always get the crappy jobs, and she says, “Remember when you agreed to “for better or worse? Well, I am getting better, and you are getting worse.”
It’s going to take me a few days to think about it, but it doesn’t feel right; something about it stinks.
We stopped in Glacier National Park and drove up the Road-to-the-Sun which is the most scenic ride you could find anywhere in the world.
You would all agree because everyone in San Juan County is pretty good at judging scenic rides as we live in one of the best places on earth for scenery.
Then I get to Banff Canada and decide this might just be the most scenic place I have ever seen. But then I go to Lake Louise and decide that is the most scenic place I have ever seen.
Then I go to Lake Moraine and decide that may be the most scenic place I have ever seen. Then I go the Columbian Ice Field Glaciers, where six glaciers feed into one big valley and I decide that it is the most scenic place I have ever seen.
I am worried, perhaps I am drinking too much Pepsi and eating too much string cheese because everywhere I go, I walk around in awe thinking, this is the most scenic place I have ever been.
I have a call in to RFK Jr. to see if there are any long-term studies on rats that drink too much Pepsi and eat string cheese.
This trip started out as an adventure, and we were committed to the idea that it would be a journey, not a destination.
We are headed to Denali National Park, but we also said that we will not hurry past something that we wanted to explore. This is a significant risk, because I tend to get lost on every rabbit trail I encounter.
I take medicine for this; but it doesn’t work because I mostly give it to the cat and because I drink Pepsi and eat string cheese in quantities that would motivate Brad Bunker’s plow horse to win the Kentucky Derby.
We get to Dawson Creek BC where the start of the Alaskan Highway officially begins. I check the trip odometer and apparently it took me 39 hours and 1,916 miles to get to the start line.
The world-famous Alaskan Highway, which is in Canada, but was built by America in 1942. It only took nine months. This road is 1523 miles long has 133 bridges, and 8,000 culverts.
Apparently, there was a time when good ol’ American know-how could get things done. We can’t even get I-15 finished and I know they have been working on it since I was in college about 40 years ago.
As we get out at the visitor center and take our selfie, I see an American flag flying high alongside a Canadian flag. I think that maybe President Trump finally bought Canada and made it the 51st state.
I did some internet scouting ahead of time and like all great vacations I planned it out which is always the best part of the vacation.
Usually, the actual trip is not as enjoyable as all the planning because I forget just how much people annoy me. The places are great, but way to “peoplely” to really bask in the beauty.
I am thinking “Who are all these old people? Are there active Silver Alerts on all these seniors hobbling along? Should I call and report them?”
I realize a moment too late, that I have been looking at myself limping along in the storeroom windows.
There is always some “tour-on”, that peculiar mix of tourist and moron that does stupid things and asks stupid questions, which I am doing with the Visitor Center host as I show her picture of my grandkids.
Senior Tour-ons are the worst, they are never in a hurry, always ask “Where ya from?” are cheap and will do anything to save a penny, and like to clean out there car when they are in the gas line.
Oh ya, and they get lost in the round-about so sometimes they stop in the round-about and argue with their spouse which of the four outlets to take.
I have a peculiar measuring stick for success of any vacation. This is a little embarrassing, but I have eaten my way across America.
This includes stopping at Scott, AR for a Hub Cap Hamburger, fish tacos in Morro Bay, a pulled pork sandwich in Winchester, ID (population 212) and now I found a cinnamon roll in British Columbia worth a 1,723-mile drive.
Honestly, nothing is better than finding good food in the local, obscure, eclectic, hole-in-the-wall joints across the world.
I am enjoying the new signs I am seeing alongside the road. I have never seen a crossing sign for a caribou.
At a gas station, I can’t figure out how to prepay for my gas. After ten minutes of confusion an old guy comes over to me, and after he says, “Where ya from?”, he points to the sign taped to the pump, “Please take a photo for the amount and show it to the attendant.” Only Canadians can be that trusting, I dunno?
There are some really weird things, like they don’t have crushed ice and Pepsi in Canada.
I have been through 27 different stores because I have to stop for gas because I am getting three miles per gallon pulling my house behind my truck.
I consider not having crushed ice and fountain drinks grounds for President Trump to buy Canada and give them pebbled ice for their soft drinks.
They will thank us years from now when they don’t have to eat whale blubber to survive and their new thriving dialysis industry is doing well.