tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38556535410522707822024-02-18T19:32:38.076-08:00Hailey's impulseARTSpontaneous Art for the Spontaneous LifeHailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-53488709128501884452009-11-20T15:25:00.000-08:002009-11-20T15:25:13.101-08:00A day in Seattle<span style="color: #274e13;"><i>DARREN AND I</i> had made it across the Canadian border and now we were back in the lower 48 states. It had been almost 3 weeks since we had been in the lower 48 states. It was actually sad. We loved the wilderness we had been in and now things were starting to feel very civilized and restricted again. civilization = restrictions ... and we aren't fans of restrictions. :) </span><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13;">Cities started to fly by fast! Darren and I had been use to miles and miles of driving before a city came up but before we knew it we had flown past Bellingham and were within 30 minutes of Seattle. The sun was setting fast and we hadn't slept in a bed for about 5 days. Which.. wasn't all that bad but more than anything we craved showers. We were on a budget and quickly found out that small budgets and Seattle do not mix. We also found out that Motel 6 was booked for the most part. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13;">The only room we could find was one down at the Seattle SeaTac location. We took the room, and the nightmare began. The floors were filthy. You could almost see the germs moving on the floor. We didn't dare take our shoes off. There were two beds in the room. I pulled back the sheets on each of them. One bed appeared to have the old sheets still on. They were all crinkly like someone had already slept in them. Gross! The other bed looked untouched. Next we went to look at the shower and realized the shower bar was about to fall out of the wall. It was getting worse and worse the more we looked around. The truck started to sound so good to sleep in again. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13;">As it started to get dark the parking lot filled up. Scary people showed up. Two hundred dollar ghetto cruisers pulled in with stereos pounding. People were yelling in the parking lot and we realized we were the only white folks there. The stares came at us like as though we were fresh meat and we met their hard stares with our own crazy white people stares. The dog didn't like anyone. I went to lock our hotel room door up real good and realized the door had previously been kicked in and the lock and handle provided little to no security. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13;">That was it...Darren went to see if they had a different room. They did. One room. A smoking room. Around the corner. That one was just as dirty, down a dark hallway and the smell of cigarettes was overpowering. We kept the room we had. We knew there weren't any other rooms available and no other hotels we could afford. We parked in the handicap stall right at our door and hoped we didn't get a ticket for it. We debated where would be best for Kenai to sleep. The truck or the room. We voted for the room and figured she'd bark if she heard someone messing with our truck right outside the door. She stirred in the night but never freaked out. The sleep wasn't good and the shower we had been craving didn't turn out as soothing as we had thought due to the worry that we may be getting diseased feet by standing in the tub. We had hoped for a nice dinner too but nobody would deliver and we didn't want to leave the full parking lot and loose our parking spot at our door. So I got the laptop out and searched for amazing breakfast places in Seattle. We found several raving reviews for a place called Peso's Kitchen and Lounge. So we went to bed and dreamed of food. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13;">The next morning, the parking lot was quiet. You wouldn't know how bad it was in the parking lot the night before. The place looked semi pleasant in the morning light. We loaded up and headed for the breakfast place called Peso's. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13;">Peso's is located at 605 Queen Anne Ave in Seattle. Parking is a little tough so we parked around the block and walked a little ways. The decor is awesome! The colors, the lights, the wrought iron just really made this place awesome. I could see how at night this would be a huge hot spot and it looked like fun. I ordered the eggs benedict, Darren got something else..huevos ranchos I think. Let me tell you.... the BEST eggs benedict ever! Delicious! and CHEAP! It was like $8 and awesome. The service was good too. We will be going back! Here's a link to their restaurant: http://www.pesoskitchen.com/ </span><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13;">After breakfast we went to the Pike Market. I'd seen this on Real World MTV when I was about 16 and I'd heard neat things about it so I made a point of making sure we checked it out. Parking was ridiculous! Seattle is a walking city. Not a driving city. Least in this part of it. The streets are surprisingly steep too. We ended up parking in a parking garage that charged something like $12 per hour. Plus the stalls were so tiny we had to take up two therefore it doubled the rate! It took about 10 minutes just to walk to the market so we had to shop fast. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13;">I bought a couple handmade journals from a vendor and some beautiful fresh sweet peaches from a local farmer. Delicious! We looked for the infamous fish throwing but found out after talking to the journal guy that PETA had been down at the fish market protesting the fish throwing saying it was inhumane to throw the dead fish and that it was disrespectful. Crazy. So the fish market had put a hold on throwing fish. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13;">After Pike Market we went to the Chinese Museum of Ancient Art or something like that. It was a hot day in Seattle, 90 degrees so the art museum was closing soon due to the heat and lack of air conditioning so we quickly walked through. It was free so that was nice too. It was interesting. The part that amazed me was the little bottles that were hand painted... on the INSIDE. The artists had used funny little brushes to reach down inside the little bottles and had painted beautiful detailed scenes. Really cool. </span><br />
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</div><span style="color: #274e13;">After that we went to the "Conservatory" which was just a short walk from the Museum. The Blue Angels were flying about that day too making all sorts of obnoxious noise. The conservatory was filled with beautiful rare flowers and other vegetation and cactus. I took a few pictures. After that we slowly walked back to the truck after wondering a bit into some other gardens planted and kept up by locals. A man was also there painting the scenery of the park. </span><br />
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After we did all of that...the day was moving on and we needed to get back on the road. We were headed South from here and tying into the infamous Highway 101 that goes down the West Coast. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Thanks for reading.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hailey Rose<br />
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</span>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-14612973659108319952009-11-18T12:03:00.000-08:002009-11-18T12:03:01.304-08:00Sea to Sky Highway<span style="color: #073763;">The Sea to Sky Highway is an extension of Highway 99. This road is a former logging road that connects Vancouver, Squamish and Whistler with Lillooet. It is completely paved and about 185 miles of beautiful winding road lined with beautiful pure scenery. Much of the road is squeezed between mountain and sea. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">For Darren and I... this trek of winding road was not long enough. The scenery was amazing. The town of Whistler reminded me of Park City here in Utah. A mountain town, rustic log buildings, ski resorts mixed with a very "cosmo" feel. If we had more time then we would have stopped. Whistler to Vancouver was busy with construction preparing for the Winter Olympics. Lots of money was obviously being spent for the 2 weeks of Olympic excitement. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">We found vancouver to be quite confusing. The traffic was thick and signs seemed to disappear. We turned here, there, trying to figure what the iPhone was telling us. We kept looking for the U.S. Border signs...until finally we found one. Thankfully we were going the right way. We came onto a freeway on ramp type thing .. accelerated... and then saw the border and suddenly... a motorcycle cop was on us. Darren was driving. The scene went like so:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Darren: "uh oh"</span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;">Me: "what..."</span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;">Darren: "I think that's a cop behind us, I think I was speeding"</span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><the ="" i="" ...="" 25="" 40="" 80="" about="" border="" clear="" doing="" hr.="" hr="" in="" is="" km="" like..="" like="" limit,="" mph.="" now="" site,="" speed="" the="" think="" we="" were="" which=""></the></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Me: "expletive!... is he really going to pull us over?"</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Me: "expletive!.... he's really pulling us over!!"</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Darren: Hello Sir</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Officer: So what would happen to you if you were in America and you were going 65 mph faster than the speed limit?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Darren: I'd go to jail</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">The officer looks over to me in the passenger seat.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Officer: Do you have any plans tonight?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Me: ... uhhh... I hope so.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Officer: Do you have dinner plans?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Me: ...I'm hoping so.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Officer: Well make sure he takes you somewhere nice, like Sizzler because I'm not taking him to jail this time. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">...huge sigh!!... lucky Darren.. never gets tickets! ... yet.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Officer: Im not even going to give you a ticket. Just watch your speed and travel safe.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Darren/Me: Thank you. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Whew! We then slowly merged back onto the highway and pulled up to the border station. At this border station there were two U.S. agents for each vehicle. At all the other stations there had only been one agent for each vehicle and in most cases they stayed in their little box and didn't get out. But at this one... both agents were out and there were dogs sniffing vehicles. I suddenly felt like I was at the Mexican border. Not that I've ever been at the Mexican Border but this is how I envision it. We handed over our passports. One border cop had a light and flashed it in the windows, he walked around the back. I thought to myself, surely they will want to see the dogs paperwork. Meanwhile the other border cop was interrogating us. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Border Cop: Where you going? </span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Darren: Home</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Cop: Where's home?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Darren: Utah</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Cop: Where you coming from? </span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Darren: Well.. 2 days ago it was Alaska. We are just driving back down.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Cop: Did you buy anything in Canada? </span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Darren: Yes.</span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;">The cop is suddenly interested...like..ohh..got a live one here.. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Cop: What did you buy?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Darren: Gas</span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;">Darren is such a smart ass... lol... but really, if you said no you didn't buy anything.. then that'd be a lie. You know where the cop is going with the question. Which is if you did buy something other than gas.. there's duty tax that could be owed before crossing back into the states.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">The second cop who had been walking around the truck looking inside was now standing next to the cop who was asking us all the questions. He got a nod from the second cop, handed us our passports and told us to have a nice trip.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">They didn't even ask about the dog. Just seemed like after all the literature I had read about crossing the borders, what to expect, what they request for paperwork, blah blah blah.. this intimidating border station would for sure have wanted to see paperwork on the dog. I mean, who knows where I could have picked that dog up from. What if I had drugs stitched into her belly or something. It all just seems to be smoking mirrors. I'm glad we weren't harassed further but then again...they wouldn't have been able to get us on anything except for having expired insurance cards. oops! Just the cards were expired, not the actual insurance. :) A phone call would have clarified that but that would have been the only thing that could have stalled us. The funny part is I was pretty freaked out once I'd discovered our expired insurance cards and even more freaked out when I read that Canada has higher insurance requirements than the U.S. But I was so consumed with making sure the dog had her paperwork...that I didn't check the insurance cards which in the end... it pretty much made no difference as we were never asked. We were only asked to show the dogs paperwork when entering BACK into Canada after Skagway only because I told the guy I had a dog on. Which I didn't even have to tell him. He had only asked if I had anyone else traveling with us. Which would be interpreted to another human really, not a dog. I'm analyzing way to much. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">Anyway... here's some pictures of the journey down the Sea to Sky Highway. Enjoy.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheZxaVfljR_qSuZXFmUG8zHZ88C6e0FQZLZo_8wYOuZMPXLB3WK1WFz2O3vis6giFXRf51-N5Wtv2lMoQhfQY-2yetD3HLQOXeNvE7mj67zZgGS59nXCzOolALKSNMYKz-yZM6biDmUkQ/s1600/IMG_8097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #073763;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheZxaVfljR_qSuZXFmUG8zHZ88C6e0FQZLZo_8wYOuZMPXLB3WK1WFz2O3vis6giFXRf51-N5Wtv2lMoQhfQY-2yetD3HLQOXeNvE7mj67zZgGS59nXCzOolALKSNMYKz-yZM6biDmUkQ/s400/IMG_8097.JPG" /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0YxCWzhoukQICW5ju3ckVh3Oep_B0JV5493OYHqaNHQEXAKx-mGxne-m69x2J5u3ba3OMng_2loSlKh1G34WxISf08PPoRRO5Y5yxj6eIV7dIpGADCHyDT42_szVUlT4T4Ew8RU_NJGg/s1600/IMG_8105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #073763;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0YxCWzhoukQICW5ju3ckVh3Oep_B0JV5493OYHqaNHQEXAKx-mGxne-m69x2J5u3ba3OMng_2loSlKh1G34WxISf08PPoRRO5Y5yxj6eIV7dIpGADCHyDT42_szVUlT4T4Ew8RU_NJGg/s400/IMG_8105.JPG" /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW8fICUG5J_db0-OLlYE63wlyu10_mG1ZLlOhGAThI-X2gkjIdWDitDBJMcVhCMoaVLmHB2zI8Ewj1ahLmQspvPxZlKHhm37jLalr6xzFRakZo818jhD67qOdFwjZIlvNSsLgC7YFc_fA/s1600/IMG_8124.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #073763;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW8fICUG5J_db0-OLlYE63wlyu10_mG1ZLlOhGAThI-X2gkjIdWDitDBJMcVhCMoaVLmHB2zI8Ewj1ahLmQspvPxZlKHhm37jLalr6xzFRakZo818jhD67qOdFwjZIlvNSsLgC7YFc_fA/s400/IMG_8124.JPG" /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5duRz8zo4qLsVV2mpibm18TkIn0OgFi4hci5IpNqwHSEOmx0_JZcDkd5mzwhPCRuh_3CIA_074Al3m_z_bK_n_Kjx81oY2Uf_SlFLJW-vW1qNIYc8VdQG4e8_9a_t_jNapS-Xmj1xURI/s1600/IMG_8128.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #073763;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5duRz8zo4qLsVV2mpibm18TkIn0OgFi4hci5IpNqwHSEOmx0_JZcDkd5mzwhPCRuh_3CIA_074Al3m_z_bK_n_Kjx81oY2Uf_SlFLJW-vW1qNIYc8VdQG4e8_9a_t_jNapS-Xmj1xURI/s400/IMG_8128.JPG" /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH1T7Ki58OqX9LiZHCktuBcEje57F7ULx8Gbw-6zp6E1cqPVqFNUBVY4HB6kBwojwaelBsZtbgzAz1YPM6ZMgfmBC1j8BFi9JRvcB98UEDd9OZQPtkW3cKCxMpTtZObtl7ws8VigyWcA8/s1600/IMG_8131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #073763;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH1T7Ki58OqX9LiZHCktuBcEje57F7ULx8Gbw-6zp6E1cqPVqFNUBVY4HB6kBwojwaelBsZtbgzAz1YPM6ZMgfmBC1j8BFi9JRvcB98UEDd9OZQPtkW3cKCxMpTtZObtl7ws8VigyWcA8/s400/IMG_8131.JPG" /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCTdVHOikeIlvfMQ_uOwgjXAF83VemM0BnHTl0Lxvx9R3kPt6L5uSH-zSJyD5I4tl3bLM-F_CBTeqdVHcs4bu1pu1_5gY8RxvccTYzeWIHhhDX6vfNR38VAgB3gZfubD44egj5foyIxz4/s1600/IMG_8135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #073763;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCTdVHOikeIlvfMQ_uOwgjXAF83VemM0BnHTl0Lxvx9R3kPt6L5uSH-zSJyD5I4tl3bLM-F_CBTeqdVHcs4bu1pu1_5gY8RxvccTYzeWIHhhDX6vfNR38VAgB3gZfubD44egj5foyIxz4/s400/IMG_8135.JPG" /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd8mV2OtIwqQNkWV71OuYQ7Q6E55OnC_jntzJ-8tnyQf_PPMEwRsb-kUv1MeTQOsn19sWUF2PyHyIwkGVtKhuZ5cxvWKj65LY6KvqkUvU7hzJEvIgZaCn_NRwAVC4J53kU7p9VDso2mZQ/s1600/IMG_8142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #073763;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd8mV2OtIwqQNkWV71OuYQ7Q6E55OnC_jntzJ-8tnyQf_PPMEwRsb-kUv1MeTQOsn19sWUF2PyHyIwkGVtKhuZ5cxvWKj65LY6KvqkUvU7hzJEvIgZaCn_NRwAVC4J53kU7p9VDso2mZQ/s400/IMG_8142.JPG" /></span></a><span style="color: #073763;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFsidGkBxxcyor6dqdT1tVRQCrs0uuCZjCRIMwrD837hqiR-xGWe7Xz6fyPEMNBr5gDUcwYXrQxiiWBGcwI1f12I8_I8ZOV9cR7GA8jo4ODau8VzA18LoImT71-PTcp2cyjjpH3qh8BbM/s1600/IMG_8150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFsidGkBxxcyor6dqdT1tVRQCrs0uuCZjCRIMwrD837hqiR-xGWe7Xz6fyPEMNBr5gDUcwYXrQxiiWBGcwI1f12I8_I8ZOV9cR7GA8jo4ODau8VzA18LoImT71-PTcp2cyjjpH3qh8BbM/s400/IMG_8150.JPG" /></a></span><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #073763;">Thanks for reading. </span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #073763;"><br />
</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #073763;">Hailey</span><br />
</div><i duty="" fees...hahaha...="" for="" get="" going="" he="" laugh="" myself...he="" secretly="" thought="" to="" us="" was=""><br />
</i>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-32317208367128947762009-10-26T10:55:00.000-07:002009-10-26T10:55:22.187-07:00Cassiar Highway Canada<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS_Ij4fLADwVDKq7RqBdFFqoo5ScI1vk3TRxTGmEjk2YBJEoVT_RncMGw3WCA6XwlDKBiJtlk4fCuAS1QQuFvl53L3uYFGwuTQgTt_kOxXXd80cNFHV39s5HZ3g0j-1S_8kpRK0NUGb7Q/s1600-h/IMG_8045.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS_Ij4fLADwVDKq7RqBdFFqoo5ScI1vk3TRxTGmEjk2YBJEoVT_RncMGw3WCA6XwlDKBiJtlk4fCuAS1QQuFvl53L3uYFGwuTQgTt_kOxXXd80cNFHV39s5HZ3g0j-1S_8kpRK0NUGb7Q/s640/IMG_8045.jpeg" /></a>The Cassiar Highway runs from the Yellowhead Highway (just west of Watson Lake which is where the sign forest is, remember the pictures on our way up?) to Kitwanga Canada where it ties back into the Alaska Highway. According to the map, this stretch of road is 450 miles. It felt like a forgotten road. <br />
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The speed limit signs said we could go about 50 mph so that's what I attempted to do. Darren was sleeping but quickly woke up when I about drove us off the road. It was really dark and the road twisted and turned with no warning. So I slowed it down. <br />
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Just as Darren was falling asleep again I came to a screeching halt.. I could see large shadows right along the side of the road. First I thought it was a bear but then with a closer look we discovered it was two buffalo bedded down on the shoulder of the road. Darren thought this was cool. He rolled down his window and stuck his head out to get a closer look. We were maybe 8 feet away from the beasts. Within a few seconds though, one buffalo decided we were a bit too close and rose to his feet. His head was almost to the top of our truck and by now he was about 6 feet away. You could almost reach out and pet him. I suddenly got a cold chill down my spine and common sense kicked in.. "This beast of a buffalo ... should he decide he didn't like Darren hanging out the window pointing at him, ram into the side of my truck... he'd be in the cab with us, we'd be injured, the truck would probably be a mess and unable to drive much further... Hell No!" I put that truck into "drive" and pulled away. It was amazing to be that close to the beasts, a moment we will never forget. <br />
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</div>I drove down the dark, winding, ill repaired road for a couple hours and was getting sleepy. I found a good wide spot to pull over. We hadn't passed a single vehicle. It really felt like we were all alone out here. Darren let Kenai out for a run, the mosquitos descended upon him. You could hear them humming through the window outside. You could see the swarm at the windows. Darren did the famous run around the truck waving his arms like a crazy man and leaped back inside. About 20 mosquitos made it inside with us. We pulled the blankets up over our heads and fell asleep to the sound of buzzing mosquitos in our ears. We killed what we could but there always seemed to be another one. A few hours later we both woke to more buzzing and realized the mosquitos had found the little hold in our back window and were infiltrating the cab. We shoved some tissue in it, killed some more mosquitos and fell back asleep. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFjtJznXMFqCDmFeYjDWhjSQSLuGFPX6FynfgsssxZwV0jsV0lbRRYeD5Eh5rqqLZEr1UqwDEz4dkBzYIMhZTFm5PuBPO5-GiQhcW8oVO2KH0241m6qIvnsZaI8ZO3Xc1vR0Up9AZP7NQ/s1600-h/IMG_8046.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFjtJznXMFqCDmFeYjDWhjSQSLuGFPX6FynfgsssxZwV0jsV0lbRRYeD5Eh5rqqLZEr1UqwDEz4dkBzYIMhZTFm5PuBPO5-GiQhcW8oVO2KH0241m6qIvnsZaI8ZO3Xc1vR0Up9AZP7NQ/s640/IMG_8046.jpeg" /></a><br />
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The sun was up when we woke. We got more sleep than we had planned. The hum of mosquitos was still there and you could still see them at the windows just dying for some fresh blood. Hungry buggers! We probably killed another 30 or so mosquitos, all filled with blood. We let the dog out for a bit then we both did the flailing arm dance and jumped back in the truck and hit the road. I heard one vehicle pass in the night and that was it. The scenery was everything we expected. Beautiful. Being this was a less traveled road than the one we originally came up, the trees and brush were encroaching the edges of the asphalt. This made it more beautiful but more dangerous too as you wouldn't have as much time to brake should something emerge from the brush line. <br />
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We passed one or two camping sites that seemed to still be in business and their prices were much higher for gas than anywhere else. Made sense though. We were out in the boonies. We saw a few RV's go by and some motorcycles. This was the quietest trek through our entire journey. It was really neat to be out in the middle of nowhere. No cell phone service, ... nothing to bother us but the mosquitos. <br />
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We rolled into Kitwanga on fumes. We weren't sure where a gas station would be. The town was about 5 miles off the main road. The low fuel light had been on for about the last 60 miles. Each second had the feeling of.. "any second we are going to run out of gas and we have no idea how far the gas station is." Our odometer indicated we had gone over 400 miles on that tank of gas. We had run out once before but that drive had been more downhill whereas this drive had a lot of mountain to pull through so we weren't sure how far we could go. We pulled into this town because we figured there had to be gas here as there wasn't any gas before this town to speak of. Sure enough, after a few minutes we located a gas station. We had gone 409.2 miles on this tank of gas. Phew! I even took a picture. <br />
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As we came into Kitwanga I noticed a spot to pull off for a trail. After we fueled we went back to investigate the trail that called to us. <br />
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</div>Standing at the top, it looked like if you just ran for it you might be able to fly off the edge and soar around or that you could dive off the edge like a diving board. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMhxViomZsaG3Zvkk9dUVDMiPJZSkVPtMM8EhzwvdjyIl7Eu_VvtDwFj7XzJwUDgwwypML3hGPYbaMuh0KBHHJc36b5jFgfjQ6j8x7amc9_Wmzbsn5GgSRPnkhs2uH0prSYMrHWRlsZqM/s1600-h/IMG_8074.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMhxViomZsaG3Zvkk9dUVDMiPJZSkVPtMM8EhzwvdjyIl7Eu_VvtDwFj7XzJwUDgwwypML3hGPYbaMuh0KBHHJc36b5jFgfjQ6j8x7amc9_Wmzbsn5GgSRPnkhs2uH0prSYMrHWRlsZqM/s640/IMG_8074.jpeg" /></a><br />
</div>The wooden steps went on and on. I should have counted the steps. It was probably like going up 5 flights of stairs or something. It was neat. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqHOnPJBjHnJDnQTPECxEfs_Z8ImCGcxFrq2US9Mf3SxVpGl29hBXnXc_D5FckC8iak6b8RV_-Ks9KYKvY5OlgGrs_m8MatD3RmSP22PSge6cIDJUp9hnPcoQCVMWJOChgHbLGKvTHw94/s1600-h/IMG_8073.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqHOnPJBjHnJDnQTPECxEfs_Z8ImCGcxFrq2US9Mf3SxVpGl29hBXnXc_D5FckC8iak6b8RV_-Ks9KYKvY5OlgGrs_m8MatD3RmSP22PSge6cIDJUp9hnPcoQCVMWJOChgHbLGKvTHw94/s400/IMG_8073.jpeg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAqrvDlNwKWZy_ycuZJxpzz3enhF5zSYAkLQ71F-wrMnDoLSqyjJMJiLV2n4-eA2yo23BI8rRaTNV3v_LdHOo1zrgSOOGvgxwhZvV2YQyEke_GuZ0SBa_gaCT96tsY-4TBnMxDc_77oqA/s1600-h/IMG_8080_2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAqrvDlNwKWZy_ycuZJxpzz3enhF5zSYAkLQ71F-wrMnDoLSqyjJMJiLV2n4-eA2yo23BI8rRaTNV3v_LdHOo1zrgSOOGvgxwhZvV2YQyEke_GuZ0SBa_gaCT96tsY-4TBnMxDc_77oqA/s400/IMG_8080_2.jpeg" /></a><br />
</div>The wooden steps led to a trail through tall grass and past wild Daisies to a river. Kenai came with us to explore. Kenai loves water and thought it was just fantastic to stop and play in the river. We threw sticks and she'd lunge after them. She had a grand time. It was very beautiful. <br />
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After playing in the water we headed back to the truck. We decided to play a game with Kenai on the way up the steps. She was so full of energy we figured it would be fun for one of us to go to the top and the other stay at the bottom and call Kenai back and forth. She charged up and down the steps several times over until she understood what we were doing and she didn't seem very amused. It burned up some energy for her, that's for sure. <br />
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After we left Kitwanga we headed for the next stretch of road which would take us down pass the towns of 100 Mile House, 70 Mile House and Clinton. Before we reached Cache Creek we decided to take the right turn and head for Lillooet and Whistler and then into Vancouver. This route was called the "Sea to Sky Highway." And what a beautiful drive that would be.<br />
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Thanks for reading.<br />
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Hailey RoseHailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-1162290450950417832009-09-01T12:23:00.000-07:002009-09-01T12:23:55.119-07:00Lunch In Skagway Alaska<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizJ06mu4mXBCt1Vq3l3a_4FAk6a4sxPwUJ5FdfhmovScPA5F9JDaMWV0othrSPwg8uagtOK_c2DiEHlAiv6TEyqVfY7W5sgjz3KD-icrMWuiN03FwX2LA-YvIq3d0EUPse39yoMhafvWM/s1600-h/IMG_8018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizJ06mu4mXBCt1Vq3l3a_4FAk6a4sxPwUJ5FdfhmovScPA5F9JDaMWV0othrSPwg8uagtOK_c2DiEHlAiv6TEyqVfY7W5sgjz3KD-icrMWuiN03FwX2LA-YvIq3d0EUPse39yoMhafvWM/s400/IMG_8018.JPG" /></a></div><b>Skagway emerged</b> from the mist like a lost city on an emerald planet. As we steamed in on the ferry we could see the massive cruise ships rise out of the ocean like giant sea monsters towering over the little seemingly dainty wooden docks. <br />
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Skagway was incorporate June 28, 1900 as the first-class city in the Territory of Alaska and was known as the "Gateway to the Klondike." Skagway was also a setting for Jack London's book, The Call of the Wild. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuQ9M-DiWhFKI0Yp22XqPWwiJ_Cv9LCTp6rg6Bvupm-dylT6D2R1kdVSoxYEFo9Vb0VlcoBlzWrAF5BMcSUdpdQDVLDKrx3f3hcBxEDaH69FtS_DNnDkl9hZBLQH1B_8EjKxFJ4tggUQM/s1600-h/IMG_8028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuQ9M-DiWhFKI0Yp22XqPWwiJ_Cv9LCTp6rg6Bvupm-dylT6D2R1kdVSoxYEFo9Vb0VlcoBlzWrAF5BMcSUdpdQDVLDKrx3f3hcBxEDaH69FtS_DNnDkl9hZBLQH1B_8EjKxFJ4tggUQM/s400/IMG_8028.JPG" /></a>The name Skagway is the Tlingit word meaning "A windy place with white caps on the water." <br />
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In 1896 Gold was found in the Klondike region of Canada's Yukon Territory thus the name, "Gateway to the Klondike." <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skagway,_Alaska">Click here to read more about Skagway Alaska.</a> It's actually quite fascinating.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1rtPDbRYjlWFc8DC964nQOoKErDDfP-Mn1A661YZfiaP-DFWGfD683sEPr-aJiBKh6DZ4snCDmtJjlgnMXID4xtYMeRGLzpY_wE0o4ZsYhK6O7XkbRlBNjivU6F_uDJ4Wd7_kad4DCvc/s1600-h/IMG_8030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1rtPDbRYjlWFc8DC964nQOoKErDDfP-Mn1A661YZfiaP-DFWGfD683sEPr-aJiBKh6DZ4snCDmtJjlgnMXID4xtYMeRGLzpY_wE0o4ZsYhK6O7XkbRlBNjivU6F_uDJ4Wd7_kad4DCvc/s400/IMG_8030.JPG" width="400" /></a>We were finally allowed down to the car deck and waited our turn to pull our trustworthy truck from the belly of the giant. It was nice to get off the ferry. I was relieved we didn't need to be on it any longer. I wanted the wide open road with no people around. I was already craving it. We were anxious to get on the road. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj71LqougJwU-iupu8KG5WAP4dz-TBdSGKrk2AuwxlLbmQXj4SuHA9hK4-uPtnmHiaSYM2aOKm_3jz1XremQzUo6CeAc4dMdV-ww_o5o970CTB1mGhh7Pm80_HN8Vprg1Nim7iiBq0AyaM/s1600-h/IMG_8020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj71LqougJwU-iupu8KG5WAP4dz-TBdSGKrk2AuwxlLbmQXj4SuHA9hK4-uPtnmHiaSYM2aOKm_3jz1XremQzUo6CeAc4dMdV-ww_o5o970CTB1mGhh7Pm80_HN8Vprg1Nim7iiBq0AyaM/s400/IMG_8020.JPG" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrzDusHyzT0KfU7waBFbVvtbIqJNhhmPSEitzSKETsXEB2QCqLywaGZcdKu8W8MpT0O_t3SOQ1UmkrgvIlcI1XGZAbtgtpp6WYzjg1gWnTZ4DkaXzbcXVY5j0Ta_-uLAN1sAdZnEllguQ/s1600-h/IMG_8025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrzDusHyzT0KfU7waBFbVvtbIqJNhhmPSEitzSKETsXEB2QCqLywaGZcdKu8W8MpT0O_t3SOQ1UmkrgvIlcI1XGZAbtgtpp6WYzjg1gWnTZ4DkaXzbcXVY5j0Ta_-uLAN1sAdZnEllguQ/s400/IMG_8025.JPG" /></a>We took a couple hours to walk the boat harbor. This harbor and town was much larger than Haines and people were everywhere. I suppose with four giant cruise ships in there would stand to be a lot of people about. The boat harbor boasted a beautiful sail boat yacht and another large beautiful yacht. It reminded me of something some foreign royalty may be on. A stout black man stood at the stern of the ship like a body guard. My curiosity grew and I fantasized what the ship may be like on the inside. Who were these people? The harbor was also filled with many little fish boats, skiffs and charter boats. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5vZgm1E0OIzQLfbvL3HFnYSIbOHZW3OvRsrOih3yxzONgz0bPemHQ08LaowjQHTOAiZJXSrEoJbbUP_jzwNy_gRvFEAqVWRLx3Qb3YCFjn1LufvAyZ6Hiiwz9NyQczUtD4K16cFZ0jnk/s1600-h/IMG_8022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5vZgm1E0OIzQLfbvL3HFnYSIbOHZW3OvRsrOih3yxzONgz0bPemHQ08LaowjQHTOAiZJXSrEoJbbUP_jzwNy_gRvFEAqVWRLx3Qb3YCFjn1LufvAyZ6Hiiwz9NyQczUtD4K16cFZ0jnk/s400/IMG_8022.JPG" /></a>After we walked the harbor we decided fish and chips sounded good so we went to the Skagway Fish and Chip Co. restaurant that overlooked the harbor. From our table inside we could watch all the different people walking to and from the cruise ship on our side of the little bay. Darren and I both came to the conclusion that cruise ships probably wouldn't be our thing. I think we had both learned that we were more of a recluse type. We craved the open, vast emptiness of the wild roads we knew waited ahead. Just us and our dog and our surprisingly trustworthy truck. The fish and chips were the best ever. The batter was almost like a light bread rather than a crust. The Halibut was fresh and it all just melted in your mouth. The Skagway Fish Co. is highly recommended by us. It boasted a lively environment, good decor and friendly staff with the best fish and chips one could ever dream of. Put it on your list. Skagway Fish Co. in Skagway Alaska. A place to go before you die. <br />
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Time was ticking and we had to get going. As we drove out of town we discovered even more people and hustle and bustle about. There were people everywhere on the streets. We slowly rolled through. The buildings were all old time looking buildings. Fur shops, jewelry shops, art shops lined the streets and all looked very intriguing. The town looked like how you would think it to look back in the early 1900's during the gold rush. The buildings all very original, all very old west looking. You could envision the road we drove on to be a muddy street with horses and carriages driving through. How I would have like to have stopped and wandered about the streets of Skagway but time was not on our side now. I made a mental note to make sure to return to this town one day and visit all that I could. <br />
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We reached the edge of town and continued on. The mist and fog were thick here too. The road began to climb and we were headed straight into the foggy mountains towards the Canadian Border. At least it was light outside unlike when we were coming into Haines the night before. It was mystical. It felt like you were in the clouds. Visibility was awful. You could only see maybe 20 feet in front of you. The sunlight filtered through the fog here and there. For all you could see you were driving on a road to heaven. You couldn't see anything on your sides as I assume we were driving along the top ridge of a mountain. There was just emptiness on both sides. It felt like a dream. <br />
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The fog slowed us down incredibly. The 20 some mile trek to the Canadian Border took well over an hour. We did stop along the way to let Kenai out for a drink. We ran around a bit in some boulders in the misty fog for a few minutes and then packed her back in and continued on. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeNdSaKRxBswsdSs8B6mrx8XUck7Abrlv79snvRsKGMaROVQiz70gEsKYn0WQYhtepaklLolGGsx81OPX0QLiXn-MgyjE2IhhfUZ7ekLVB3eITdyor_zPLe-n45-_FTRL9H95jPjnn22g/s1600-h/IMG_8031_2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeNdSaKRxBswsdSs8B6mrx8XUck7Abrlv79snvRsKGMaROVQiz70gEsKYn0WQYhtepaklLolGGsx81OPX0QLiXn-MgyjE2IhhfUZ7ekLVB3eITdyor_zPLe-n45-_FTRL9H95jPjnn22g/s400/IMG_8031_2.jpeg" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjddiSX3Sjx-nHgE8lGjya4dMTDgjjn8cgWU52-QvLmKOjL1RXwaNHSesh-ebKtzi5cEw82AXefKVVPgxVzmFQtaDHLDVmXQhMjjMK6e2PsDieO1Xfzo5qtWQA_l_XvBBVVgatEihXL-eE/s1600-h/IMG_8038.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjddiSX3Sjx-nHgE8lGjya4dMTDgjjn8cgWU52-QvLmKOjL1RXwaNHSesh-ebKtzi5cEw82AXefKVVPgxVzmFQtaDHLDVmXQhMjjMK6e2PsDieO1Xfzo5qtWQA_l_XvBBVVgatEihXL-eE/s400/IMG_8038.jpeg" /></a>Suddenly, heaven emerged. We came out of the fog and into a beautiful fairy tale land of crisp pure air, lakes, flowers and magnificent rock art. It was so perfect it looked how I would think heaven should be. My breath was lost along with words. My jaw was dropped and all I could do was gaze into the beauty of this new land we'd just come to. Within minutes of arriving in this to beautiful to be true setting we arrived at the Canadian Border, yet again. It seemed obvious there was no internet or bar code scanners or even computers at this small customs building. The man was very nice, straight to the point and asked all the same questions as the past border patrol agents had. We passed through and my gawking expression out the window continued. Take a moment to look at these pictures. We stopped along the way to take some photos. The air was so pure and crisp. It was invigorating yet calming all in one. The water looked inviting but cold. It was all just amazing. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2OLx5LpFUT9zC095OybsVYAaUCKZoTz9SQ-31rED3alefnMMLuLcViCmCYhg3MUBoreoOLMcsLsv6jKIR-IOR1JPkHMFI0k6NdE4iMn7yPXYH6gMUZMWkat-yHL1PWWCATS5yInKBqfY/s1600-h/IMG_8039.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2OLx5LpFUT9zC095OybsVYAaUCKZoTz9SQ-31rED3alefnMMLuLcViCmCYhg3MUBoreoOLMcsLsv6jKIR-IOR1JPkHMFI0k6NdE4iMn7yPXYH6gMUZMWkat-yHL1PWWCATS5yInKBqfY/s400/IMG_8039.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Nh2aJqy5joBvw2eTgy5yDU0y0-GuuPP7ySMG997N3fhEsPOBd-MxThJwH8tPbdj87amJZAGK_5ETci49l_MsWDRGcxQASgfV6tB4rHqDCwalbKQu9UD93VrJ2GKX_vE2pLbx1mxQCPk/s1600-h/IMG_8040.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Nh2aJqy5joBvw2eTgy5yDU0y0-GuuPP7ySMG997N3fhEsPOBd-MxThJwH8tPbdj87amJZAGK_5ETci49l_MsWDRGcxQASgfV6tB4rHqDCwalbKQu9UD93VrJ2GKX_vE2pLbx1mxQCPk/s400/IMG_8040.jpeg" /></a>Our journey continued towards Watson Lake. This time though we were going to go home a different way yet again. We had already spiced the trip up by going to Haines and taking a ferry to Skagway. We had to get to the road we'd been on before again but we wouldn't stay on it long. About 15 miles before Watson Lake there was a turn off to the Cassiar Highway. The Cassiar was about 100 miles shorter than the way we had come up but the road was narrower with more turns and you had to travel at a slower speed. We fueled up at the turn off at a little gas station with cabins. The mosquitos descended up on us as soon as we opened the truck door. Darren stood there doing the mosquito dance while trying to fuel the truck. I retreated and stayed inside the truck once I saw the ambush coming. Before getting in the truck Darren ran around the truck flailing his arms all about to throw the hive of mosquitos off his trail before he quickly hoped in the truck. A few mosquitos still made their way in but the majority had been left hungry outside. <br />
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By this time it was getting late. It must have been around 8 p.m. Darren hadn't slept since the night before along the road just before Haines and a little nap before getting on the ferry. It was my turn to drive. We made the turn for the Cassiar Highway not knowing how far we could get on this tank of gas, not knowing if there'd by anyone or anything along the way. All we knew is that it was the beginning of another great adventure. Just the three of us. Darren, Kenai and I in the middle of the wilderness, all by ourselves. And we were excited about it. <br />
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Thanks as always for reading. <br />
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hailey rose<br />
Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-38485992380297242012009-08-25T23:24:00.000-07:002009-08-25T23:24:39.213-07:00A morning in Haines Alaska<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0KCahpIrb1dLRDkX4K2XMqRuOwK6R69KFG79CnrUr-w7hT1oPEVqQpI9MVA19-xP4cApbtWBB0GW75vhqlP__G_eaLvM7sGiyy7q0lN3TC51Z1CQL35TfMm3avmwTYDWHtA7aB81lPnY/s1600-h/IMG_7941.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0KCahpIrb1dLRDkX4K2XMqRuOwK6R69KFG79CnrUr-w7hT1oPEVqQpI9MVA19-xP4cApbtWBB0GW75vhqlP__G_eaLvM7sGiyy7q0lN3TC51Z1CQL35TfMm3avmwTYDWHtA7aB81lPnY/s400/IMG_7941.jpg" /></span></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiGjEJWofj4Uv_pZEaeu5woXDPgJzN-gIGrizDvZpuHVor4C9j7Uh4cy2UrEY2nUlXtCdi8_YyrslTza6hHsNTZowX-bnz-AYFlg_r1tfcpLbIqcUST6OjDuFcAIpWDnzvpXtlAfqLZkY/s1600-h/IMG_7942.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiGjEJWofj4Uv_pZEaeu5woXDPgJzN-gIGrizDvZpuHVor4C9j7Uh4cy2UrEY2nUlXtCdi8_YyrslTza6hHsNTZowX-bnz-AYFlg_r1tfcpLbIqcUST6OjDuFcAIpWDnzvpXtlAfqLZkY/s400/IMG_7942.jpg" /></span></a><span style="color: #274e13;">It's amazing how well you can sleep when you're just dog tired. We were somewhere between the U.S./Canadian Border and Haines Alaska. We'd finally made it back in and had just enjoyed a short nap of only a couple hours. Even though it was short, it felt great. It was already getting light outside. It was roughly 4:30 a.m. and I had a haunch that the ferry office would open at five or six. We continued on for about another 10 miles when suddenly the trusty truck reminded us that she too was tired but most of all, hungry. She began sputtering. The truck was running out of gas. We were still at least 20 or 30 miles from town. Darren coasted a ways down the hill we were already headed down to a spot to pull off. Darren got out, poured our spare 2 gallon gas can in and we were back on the road. The fuel Darren had poured in was from our local grocery store Harmons here in Utah. We had driven all the way up to Homer and never needed it. Good thing we had it. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfi03U7iLCXyuVkfIdKwJ_uE1akxo5RQq3b6v9NuvpVCKz2-fETNETi3YLMFeXrscOVS3XeldBT2YyNGCbBIILdZFYirR-lhjJXidVm1AQD6-4fkjSWRe9O8thMimVnVr9lBUnGkNmSRA/s1600-h/IMG_7951.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfi03U7iLCXyuVkfIdKwJ_uE1akxo5RQq3b6v9NuvpVCKz2-fETNETi3YLMFeXrscOVS3XeldBT2YyNGCbBIILdZFYirR-lhjJXidVm1AQD6-4fkjSWRe9O8thMimVnVr9lBUnGkNmSRA/s400/IMG_7951.jpg" /></span></a></div><span style="color: #274e13;"><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13;">We pulled into the quiet and sleepy town of Haines Alaska, population 2,300 and to the first gas station we came upon. Surprisingly this station was 24 hours at the pump. We filled our tank and headed for the Ferry Station. The Ferry Station was way down on one end of town. Cell phone service was good right in town but once we were at the Ferry Station, the service got very spotty and non-existent. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv0aFWaJAM8JvoM2vRyezuuVTxtDJGeqocYj6Jln1u74YDeeBKUkuw6DxjeCDeSs14ht6CkY87cFV1T_4ArwA5-N2BkJapWmVsnMJfhl545AVRytafm4cwfc2r1G6PglSYofhRmMBa1SE/s1600-h/IMG_7953.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv0aFWaJAM8JvoM2vRyezuuVTxtDJGeqocYj6Jln1u74YDeeBKUkuw6DxjeCDeSs14ht6CkY87cFV1T_4ArwA5-N2BkJapWmVsnMJfhl545AVRytafm4cwfc2r1G6PglSYofhRmMBa1SE/s400/IMG_7953.jpg" /></span></a></div><span style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">It was a tiny Ferry Station but not any smaller than the one in Homer. Actually I think it was bigger than Homers. The parking lot was empty. Nobody was in sight. The lights were all off, the rain was still misting down and it was about 5 a.m. We pulled right up to the door and Darren jumped out, open at 6 a.m. the sign read. We were an hour early. What to do now? It was a good 10 minute drive back to town if you factored in the construction we had to go through. We drove down the road a little further, came back to the station and then decided to sleep lightly until someone showed up. Being that we had a vehicle, we figured space would fill up very quickly on the ferry. Most of the ferries only carry about 35 vehicles so we were anxious to be the first one in the office to get that last spot if there were any left. We dozed a little bit waking up every 5 minutes or to any sound of a vehicle passing by. Finally, an old beat up Subaru pulled in and a woman got out and went into the station. It was 10 minutes till 6 a.m. We waited a little longer until finally she came to the door and unlocked it. Darren jumped out to inquire about a schedule and rates. He came back quickly and requested I join him inside. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKPI6vMGNaUAXLsWzft5fd8wJMt5lnrNRHgSybYoVi3WCmE0KE72vIzzvkrbWo5sAx9YA_FhDpmhmuKUJellfnb8PHG-Ti3LPYkeiXZfN4p89vyUqBxIdMK5xpDZ4MOqSTKUn7PsRw2o8/s1600-h/IMG_7952.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKPI6vMGNaUAXLsWzft5fd8wJMt5lnrNRHgSybYoVi3WCmE0KE72vIzzvkrbWo5sAx9YA_FhDpmhmuKUJellfnb8PHG-Ti3LPYkeiXZfN4p89vyUqBxIdMK5xpDZ4MOqSTKUn7PsRw2o8/s400/IMG_7952.JPG" /></span></a></div><span style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">There were two women inside. Both looked miserable and unhappy. Darren and I are both very up-beat people and enjoy being optimistic rather than pessimistic and we don't like to be around people who are the opposite as misery and depression can be contagious. The woman seemed bored by our questions. Her answers were short with no additional information or personality. She solemnly informed us that there was room on the ferry leaving the next morning to Bellingham, that it would take 5 days to get there and the price would be roughly $1600 for the two of us and a truck. OUCH! Sixteen hundred dollars? That was as much as it was going to cost us round trip to drive from Utah to Alaska and back. We were thinking it to be about half of that, and for half we were ready to jump aboard. We asked if there would be stops along the way, where at and how much time we'd have if we could get off and check the towns out but she seemed annoyed at the whole question and disinterested to look the information up. Finally, this poor miserable woman suggested perhaps we should take a ferry up to Skagway Alaska. That way, she explained, we wouldn't have to drive back the same road we'd just come down. It only took 1 hour by ferry and it would cost $100 for the two of us and the truck. One hundred dollars was more than the gas would have cost but depending on fog it would have taken us 3-5 hours to drive. Darren had never been on a ferry before. I had taken a ferry before from Homer to Kodiak and from Whittier to Cordova so I knew what to expect. I always enjoyed going on the ferry and thought Darren may too. We decided to book the ticket. We were told to be back to the station no later than 11 a.m. We paid the woman and left. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBRfqZheiX_d1ttsOev4RRaDF0m-BUWPRtNaQUGLqlNVa84cHjmwBwcnv1b3SAt5_Zt3Q744iyBzOlkLI8ITPX1G8SBrWSdorH0K4h8fY5IMcVu47MnRzrQo9shCu3kymVAMq62Z-9EbE/s1600-h/IMG_7979_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBRfqZheiX_d1ttsOev4RRaDF0m-BUWPRtNaQUGLqlNVa84cHjmwBwcnv1b3SAt5_Zt3Q744iyBzOlkLI8ITPX1G8SBrWSdorH0K4h8fY5IMcVu47MnRzrQo9shCu3kymVAMq62Z-9EbE/s400/IMG_7979_2.jpg" /></span></a></div><span style="color: #274e13;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj92pMC6hajwKATo8VQNeumdLYA8RHJKS3tbBL7zVEFVQXo4WtkJEDFQM_gRpNs8PaQdkw5E3z6YwAWx2gWLDafzVelJ_NbQXevS_tDEXFKfA0tp-yplyLQWl71XpuzgcQWXVsGl2cVdxc/s1600-h/IMG_7978_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj92pMC6hajwKATo8VQNeumdLYA8RHJKS3tbBL7zVEFVQXo4WtkJEDFQM_gRpNs8PaQdkw5E3z6YwAWx2gWLDafzVelJ_NbQXevS_tDEXFKfA0tp-yplyLQWl71XpuzgcQWXVsGl2cVdxc/s400/IMG_7978_2.jpg" /></span></a><span style="color: #274e13;">Now being about 6:30 a.m. we hoped to find a good little restaurant to eat at. We hadn't eaten anything except for macaroon cookies, potato chips and strange things my family had packed for us so to keep them from going to waste at the cabin through the winter so breakfast sounded delightful. We drove back through the construction and into the tiny town of Haines. The iPhone didn't help much at all in locating any restaurants and I wondered if people in Haines even knew what an iPhone was. After driving around the small dreary town we decided on the bar/restaurant overlooking the teeny tiny harbor. I was disappointed in the little harbor. When I thought of Haines, I thought lively fishing village. I was wrong, way wrong. There couldn't have been more than twenty boats in the little harbor. It was like, the party had happened...but the people never came. It felt empty. We found a spot to park in the small parking lot. There was some construction going on in the parking lot and Kenai didn't like the four or five men moving about so she kept barking at them making the whole back of the truck shake back and forth. We walked inside the little restaurant. The bar was on one end and the restaurant on the other. The restaurant side had lots of windows looking out. Looking at the construction of the building, you could see it had been added onto, and added onto. A nice thin lady with a shoddy blondish dye job and harsh liquid eyeliner welcomed us pleasantly. Between the strange man sweeping the gas station parking lot and the ferry lady we couldn't say the people of Haines were very friendly, outgoing or exuding personality. This lady at least had some personality, although she too seemed sad. So far, Haines was just depressing. Between the people, the rain and lack of excitement I could see how one could become sad. We sat in the furthest corner of the restaurant from the kitchen but closest to the harbor. Darren and I like boats and this was the reason we chose this place to eat, was to look out over the quiet, boring harbor of Haines. We reviewed our menus, the nice lady gave us water. You'd think being in a state with lots of pristine water everywhere that the water you'd be served would have a great amazing taste but it does not. It tastes heavily of chlorine. A major disappointment if you ask me. The place was dated. The tables, chairs, all of it, had to be the cheapest crap you could find in 1990. The chairs were brown square metal frame, the tables were faux wood with the look and feel of a school cafeteria. The place needed an overhaul big time. I kept my thoughts to myself and kept my fingers crossed that the food would be exceptional. Darren ordered the Breakfast Burritos. He asked the lady what she thought and she said she'd order them because they were "different." Darren eats breakfast burritos all the time here in Utah so her reasoning for choosing it seemed funny to us. I ordered the Eggs Benedict, eggs poached hard please. Chef Gordon Ramsey would slap my face and call me an effing idiot with no palate for ordering my eggs poached hard but I don't like jiggly eggs. I have a hard time with eggs as it is. We ordered some coffee as well but quickly wished we hadn't as soon as we'd tasted it. I've had bad coffee but this coffee took the cake. It was watered down, I wondered if they'd been using the same coffee grounds for the last month and the worse part was the coffee tasted like they'd burned the water somehow. Oh lord it was awful!! We poured cream in, added sugar, tested, poured more cream, more sugar, tested, yuck. Oh goodness it was awful. The sweet lady offered us more and Darren and I had to try hard not to run out of the place in an effort to stay away from the coffee. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivhyjT4pajsFQDJaLkq_iAPwo5d_Rm5-QnlQPqyNx3Ggcm9O6wPt6dMslKFAaJiKOIweU2uV9fUJyqyBbPeiWUU2cFgRjjQHxMi9oreytXDAxi8EdRfxrIaSaTb49XhuSVz7IQ-uqLKOE/s1600-h/IMG_7981.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivhyjT4pajsFQDJaLkq_iAPwo5d_Rm5-QnlQPqyNx3Ggcm9O6wPt6dMslKFAaJiKOIweU2uV9fUJyqyBbPeiWUU2cFgRjjQHxMi9oreytXDAxi8EdRfxrIaSaTb49XhuSVz7IQ-uqLKOE/s400/IMG_7981.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #274e13;">The nice lady, with her black liquid liner doe eyes was trying hard to read our expressions and we tried to graciously decline the offer of more coffee. As we waited for our meal I inspected the place some more and was disgusted to find several dead flies starring into space next to me on the window sill. Oh my! How long had it been since they'd just wiped down the window sills in this place. I began to wonder just what we'd gotten ourselves into. Did this place ever have a crowd? I wondered what my favorite reality chef, Gordon Ramsey would say if he saw this place. I figured the lady serving us had to be the owner or have a large share or interest in this place. She looked tired, bored and depressed. She'd lost interest in the whole restaurant idea by the looks of it. Poor thing. I thought to myself, wonder if the bar is the thing that keeps the doors open here. I didn't want to stay in Haines any longer than necessary and since we were leaving in a few hours I wouldn't get the chance to see what bar life was like here. Thank goodness. The meals came out. More coffee was offered and we declined again. I think she was confused as to why we were suddenly so anti-coffee and I wasn't about to tell her unless she specifically asked as she really looked like she was in a fragile state of sadness and depression, I didn't want to add to it more by telling her that her coffee is crap and to maybe give up the whole idea of ever making coffee again. The burritos looked simple and to the point and so did the eggs benedict. I quickly checked my eggs, they were good. Phew! Gold star for the cook back there. We dug in. Darren scarfed his meal as usual and I made my way through mine. It was all edible. It tasted good, good enough to eat all of it but it was nothing to write home about. We thanked the lady, paid and left. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_MolIjARgLQ1V3_mBdxGRJlalkjryIawT6g8Q82-NzrIKYXBTAZT_XuBJHU466cIyvauySODuHMsBQkagxtHgKl1EVbxexcwZOnRwvFgLAWuJB_3uLPGUuiq-uLW7-ZN0ZEW5uW9ELzA/s1600-h/IMG_7986_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_MolIjARgLQ1V3_mBdxGRJlalkjryIawT6g8Q82-NzrIKYXBTAZT_XuBJHU466cIyvauySODuHMsBQkagxtHgKl1EVbxexcwZOnRwvFgLAWuJB_3uLPGUuiq-uLW7-ZN0ZEW5uW9ELzA/s400/IMG_7986_2.jpg" /></span></a></div><span style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">It was a relief to get out of the depressing restaurant and out into the refreshing ocean air and misty rain. We decided to walk the harbor. Things were livening up slightly. A few people were down at the harbor on their boats. We were stopped by an older man and younger woman on a boat. They started up a conversation with us and we quickly found out why they were so friendly. Turns out a cruise ship was on it's way in that morning and they were looking for people to take out on their boat. The man showed us the pictures he had at the ready and boasted of the great catches they'd gotten on past trips. Clearly, they were fishing for more customers. We declined and the conversation ended abruptly. It was very clear that they were only friendly if you had money to spend. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYII41jcnuyNr1IFg8F_u8Y5teTz-s3fTebk2tpzT81ek_1zts_r9b9Z_0u8LgJ3qNYS0Bv_IoWEulpvF0YwI5cV8sfpgknZLvwD32NBKxVhHcZU3OFHJHM6PYcC9-EnbzsIP6pVh6sG8/s1600-h/IMG_7995.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYII41jcnuyNr1IFg8F_u8Y5teTz-s3fTebk2tpzT81ek_1zts_r9b9Z_0u8LgJ3qNYS0Bv_IoWEulpvF0YwI5cV8sfpgknZLvwD32NBKxVhHcZU3OFHJHM6PYcC9-EnbzsIP6pVh6sG8/s400/IMG_7995.jpg" /></span></a></div><span style="color: #274e13;"><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13;">It didn't take long to walk the harbor. We still had a couple hours so we decided to pick up some bottled water at the grocery store in town. There were two grocery stores apparently but with no parking on the street. We chose IGA and parked on the side street where there was a covered stairway that led straight up to the the actual store itself. It was odd and decrepit feeling. Once inside the store, it struck me even more odd as to why people even live in this town. The lighting was poor, the florescent lights flickered. The greens looked wilted, the apples looked mealy. Everything was expensive and they had only a couple six packs of water bottles. We bought water and some candy bars. The main reason we bought water was to give it to Kenai. We weren't sure what our water options would be on the ferry or when we got off in Skagway so we wanted to be sure to have something for her to drink just in case. When we got back to the truck, I looked back at the odd stairway and the ugly building it led to and tried to envision it during winter. Ugh! It had to be awful. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZM7CQiYdlWLTkK6O1mdheCc2gz1S3nBM3t-y44r8g6QKtGom4QUItSCLbvT7JZAkJILHZpJJ6iQElMizA67JWFYxwBwv5_8WX_wXRsiY3lNK84F-mREKh9jcEAXMOcZ1vnABZzuTVQTw/s1600-h/IMG_7999.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZM7CQiYdlWLTkK6O1mdheCc2gz1S3nBM3t-y44r8g6QKtGom4QUItSCLbvT7JZAkJILHZpJJ6iQElMizA67JWFYxwBwv5_8WX_wXRsiY3lNK84F-mREKh9jcEAXMOcZ1vnABZzuTVQTw/s400/IMG_7999.JPG" /></span></a></div><span style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">After that we decided to check out some little shops that we'd seen earlier in the morning. One place we stopped at was a vintage shop. The man greeted us, as though almost excited we'd stopped by. This was the first person who, although helpful, was not so depressing and not so "i'll talk to you if you spend money" like the guy on the boat down in the harbor. He was lean and had hair long hair past his ears. His little shop was filled with vintage stuff. Everything you could think of but all was priced at retail prices. I looked for that special thing that I couldn't live without but found none. He informed us of the lady next door and pleasantly wished us well on our journey. I actually felt kind of bad for not buying something in his shop as he seemed so sincere and was so pleasant. The lady next door was nice, but reserved. She didn't seem so depressed as some but she also didn't seem interested in having us in her shop, it almost felt more like she was annoyed we were in her shop. But it was in her shop filled with all sorts of vintage goods, native-made goods and other little things that I found something I had to have. A little eskimo doll, made by an Alaskan. This little doll was made of wood and wore a neatly made little leather outfit with a hood over the head trimmed with overpowering beaver fur. This little doll looked just like a little eskimo and it was oh so cute! I had to have it, so I bought it. I asked this woman how business was. She said it was much slower this year. I mentioned I'd seen many For Sale signs on homes and she said she didn't know of any home that had sold in the last year. Talk about depressing. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmC_SvYIKS7ZX7LDgKZY_q-FnhetmcMCsRFaMH57Kus5YuBb7VfFE6iev1yBifEjUdiwr6veQDlq5Mj30tfI4-x0rLQPS3wDStApAMLLb2PCTRC9eHB6-tI0tC7FEvFsQC8HDOZP2OAmY/s1600-h/IMG_8004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmC_SvYIKS7ZX7LDgKZY_q-FnhetmcMCsRFaMH57Kus5YuBb7VfFE6iev1yBifEjUdiwr6veQDlq5Mj30tfI4-x0rLQPS3wDStApAMLLb2PCTRC9eHB6-tI0tC7FEvFsQC8HDOZP2OAmY/s400/IMG_8004.jpg" /></span></a></div><span style="color: #274e13;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdmn0t1o7-JrhlklIoR-Ed84W79qZPX42sbQxKDt0CRiV2ntGun-ARv95dz5OCzZ8fwKLufqMpyAQiPNpia1Zq9hAyN5qe41DRVZtbf8LHeoPBqQwjdZqiKX-Mt84lAbsGrckB0gM97xc/s1600-h/IMG_8015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdmn0t1o7-JrhlklIoR-Ed84W79qZPX42sbQxKDt0CRiV2ntGun-ARv95dz5OCzZ8fwKLufqMpyAQiPNpia1Zq9hAyN5qe41DRVZtbf8LHeoPBqQwjdZqiKX-Mt84lAbsGrckB0gM97xc/s400/IMG_8015.jpg" /></span></a><span style="color: #274e13;">Our next stop was to a shop that had great curb appeal but lacked everything I hoped it would have inside. It was called the Lily or the Iris or something. It had a little white picket fence, a beautifully kept garden and a lovely little path leading up to the door. Turns out, this shop was really a converted front porch. It was about 10 feet wide and 25 feet long. That was it and the rest was a lived in house that had nothing for sale. A tall, skinny eccentric man with dark hair, plaid shirt and khaki docker trousers greeted us. This man was overwhelming and had an obnoxious maniacal laugh that drove me nuts. He would say something... pause a good 5 seconds, one .... two .... three .... four ... five and then laugh this off the wall shrill maniacal laugh. It was nice to finally get out of that place. I wondered if maybe he took people into his house and if those people were ever seen again. There was some other dock on this end of town. Apparently it was the cruise ship dock and the ship had arrived. People were beginning to filter off the ship and down the wooden dock. Time for us to go. We didn't want to get caught in the midst of tourists gone amuck so we then drove around some dirt roads up on the hill side and looked at homes. There were some nice homes with some nice views but Darren and I knew we'd never plan to come back to this town. It was just interesting to look around. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLZD0Ecw5Y0VHytZB2gxXa7afitdE0iKgHy5UUL2Vmf6zIEZtsYm_zkBJpYHLHhgiXC3LITzevM8CF-oYd0dre0UepTbTYPTv0Ze_Jfglj3RzwGrtVFVDhae4iIgLeMQVyubMMNpz2NKM/s1600-h/IMG_8007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLZD0Ecw5Y0VHytZB2gxXa7afitdE0iKgHy5UUL2Vmf6zIEZtsYm_zkBJpYHLHhgiXC3LITzevM8CF-oYd0dre0UepTbTYPTv0Ze_Jfglj3RzwGrtVFVDhae4iIgLeMQVyubMMNpz2NKM/s400/IMG_8007.jpg" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #274e13;">Time was moving slowly. We headed back to the ferry station. We still had at least an hour before we were suppose to be there so we parked our truck at the beginning of the row number we were to be in and slept. </span></div><span style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">We woke to the loud "bang bang" of a hand smacking the hood of our truck and some guy in a reflective vest yelling. It was time to drive the truck onto the ferry. We sat our seats up and followed the directions we were given. We pulled into the belly of the Columbia ferry. Parked, reassured Kenai we'd be back soon and went up the stairs to check out the ferry. You cannot stay in the vehicle deck. On long ferry rides they allow you to access the car deck every couple of hours. Dogs/pets are not allowed outside of the vehicle deck. Even though I've always enjoyed my trips on the ferry, i've always found them to be drity and grungy feeling. The crew on board look suspicious and untrustworthy as do most of the people traveling aboard. You worry about your car, you worry about your purse or bags if you should fall asleep. It is not a relaxing trip, you are constantly looking over your shoulder and keeping your space between yourself and others. It was a good little trip over to Skagway. We passed some beautiful waterfalls raging down the mountainsides into the ocean. There were some birds that people lunged to their feet to take pictures of but other than that it was pretty quiet and we were left alone. An hour was plenty of time. Darren quickly decided he was glad the price was too much and that we hadn't opted to take the ferry to Bellingham. I felt the same way. We would get bored, surely and poor Kenai would only get to see us every couple of hours for 15 minutes before being cooped back up. It was better this way. One hour was perfect to explore the areas we were allowed to explore of the ship, look at the food options and know we didn't want any and decide driving was the best. Then finally Skagway began to emerge from the mist. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13;">Thanks for reading. Our time in Skagway Alaska is next.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13;">Hailey Rose</span>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-32308954476707430742009-08-18T12:43:00.001-07:002009-08-23T21:24:42.443-07:00Journey to Haines AlaskaIt was dark once we'd left my family to their own at the Anchorage Airport. Just past midnight, it was raining. It had been raining the whole drive. No sun had been out and with the cloud cover, darkness crept in faster and with more authority. We decided to make a stop at CARRS to pick up a few items, like more of those divine coconut macaroons, yum! I bought a lot of<img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzJdSQ0-gVj175vqEGku5_b-irDFv55N1n-Zw69p1ZtR3DWhLgSUpGACpBM6jyWAvQfqoF8GSZWCg7afchcPZ2FWphEb_zS-BLDML5WzvibQgBV3xpBw7TKboEtYXKkjjC6UAB2GEf3m0/s400/IMG_7872_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373380178468497090" /> them. So many that I knew when I bought them that by the time I finished them I'd be burnt out on them, I knew this and I still bought all of them because I didn't want to get back to Utah and be craving and fantasizing about them. We sat in the rainy parking lot of CARRS discussing our remaining trip. Where were we going to go now. Options always make it hard for Darren and I to make<img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmOLF1YfBi8nFWu2qh60TqgVpdmUSOSVB4otU_GOQqtM20ZDzSb56FjCp1aYCZcE6MCQyvvZr6c8oFY2_rJ4y99uRaIr3JFZ97uCZWy2X8J1kQDXs53qI_Ekcb5CuMGf_q90yWlfLZ7nE/s400/IMG_7873_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373380052821370658" /> decisions. We are indecisive, unsure and want to do "all the above" even though it never seems to be an option to do "all the above." We pondered and openly discussed in the dark rainy parking lot directions we could go, what we would do there, where we'd go from there, how much time it would take, how many hours of driving, how many miles, stops along the way, etc. It is a lot to consider really and being that Darren and I work on spontaneity only makes things more open to possibilities. <div><br /></div><div>There was only one way out by car from Anchorage so we knew our itinerary for a couple hundred miles worth. We pondered traveling to Fairbanks and drive across a portion of the Denali National Park. We pondered driving up to Prudoe Bay, just to say we'd been as far North in the United States as the road could take us. We pondered about just driving the exact way we came. We pondered driving to Haines Alaska and catching a Ferry all the way down the inside passage to Bellingham Washington. We pondered every possible way we could think of.</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR-g56ht7S6yY6GscRnS6EKTkUpUUnNAuIGN4RAMl1qHuE65x2rPjVfJwyFGly9PjhJEa-m3CU7IlwzZ9rdquWVVGm9kDDClANKDDtORo7k_W5GVPlQfV7b71sEnmpTPefqk7FzbTIeP0/s400/IMG_7876_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373380044677952770" /><div><br /></div><div>We couldn't decide. So we figured we'd best start driving and at the very least, get to the first "Y" in the road and make a decision at that point. I told you. We run on spontaneity. With darkness still in charge and rain misting down upon us, we began our journey home. The highway out of Anchorage was quite active at this time of night but everything got quiet almost instantly once outside of Anchorage. We passed Fort Richardson, Chugiak, Eklutna. We were</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpj8zbrodTZv2MDTopDeLq5hSfKbFxpIFDfvr41xus2oCGEIyhIe4JXnOrPKXKPc5tNxpsIh23jbytuMHbNWzIoEtPKfpZpXrLUNzGZR4804AdccigZ8SgZ7Lc3tSyqymH27ZDUS0mqBI/s400/IMG_7880.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373379848004967746" />headed towards Palmer and suddenly barricades started to show up and a flashing sign said the Glen Highway was closed. Shoot! Where do we go now? Follow the detour signs! In the dark. In the rain. We got lost. We took off on Highway 3 which took us towards Wasilla. We searched for more detour signs, but found none. We came to Wasilla, pulled off the quiet highway and got out the iPhone and the Alaska map to find a way back over to the Glen Highway. It was confusing. Nobody was around and everything was closed. It was about 2 a.m. and we were in Wasilla, Alaska... lost. We were burning up time and we were anxious to figure out which way to go.<img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkGOs2lDi4_cbjihqM229tFITHeMFRC9aLHuZLKKpkWrpaxHbq-cPPf05s-vrnlH2psSwdlALNKQ0-EM0B7LdO2OYcsHasiuRE9WRi6G_PvWwfWou8i3bfX4iwJrN2R6rLcZa24j8DKWw/s400/IMG_7895.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373379843781717170" /><div> Finally we located a dark wild road and took off down it in hopes it would lead us where we wanted it to. I kept asking Darren, "Are you sure this is right? It feels so wrong, we've been on this road forever. We're not that far from that highway we want."</div><div> Apparently directions are not my thing. Really, I think Darren was just lucky. Eventually we made it to the Glen Highway and continued our solitary drive in the rainy darkness. The road went back and forth in classic "S" shapes. Cliff on one side, mountain on the other. I knew the view was beautiful along here as we'd driven this during the daylight on our way in. I knew there were beautiful lakes along this stretch with raging massive mountains reaching for the sky. We drove pass the small town of Sutton and drove another 15 miles. Darren pulled off the road. It was near 3:30 a.m by this time and Darren was exhausted and I knew I couldn't drive. I'd been dozing off as it was. Darren let Kenai out and took her for a walk down to the raging</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA6WYIiuaeewXVFSkme2I7uVw6mQRggnEtp7IQI_US4jrt9bTtBtPWVPJEvPokjqYkSerYrGoibx2i_XvqDxtUG7wblz4ZTQvKsdOf73qZT7bDnd3GP8M9aIRc-4FlhsrjL9a03KpkJKo/s400/IMG_7907_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373379835055164130" /><div> river he could hear. It was a little creepy sitting in the dark truck all alone for 10 minutes. Your imagination likes to think of every possible bad thing when you're a little spooked. Here we are along a dark, desolate road, stopped, along a river that surely is swarming with fish and where there are fish, there are bear and to my left was a thick forest of trees.... It was a relief when Darren and Kenai came back to</div><div> the truck. We put the seats back, pulled light fleece blankets over us and went to sleep.</div><div><br /></div><div>We woke up about 9 a.m. to the occasional car or truck passing by. It was Sunday and still very quiet outside. I was surprised we'd slept that long but then again we knew that we wanted the drive down to be a little more leisurely and perhaps after two weeks we were more tired than we thought we really were. We got up and I took Kenai down to the river this time. Surprisingly it was a little more civilized feeling than my mind had led me to believe a few</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3VKc0DTA2199R-gRANfIPW32Tm_Bbp4pBy_X1kNYx0xzy0IRslNQOQ_NttdX6CxbXeiPtzAYtAlPGCj1liq4QgWB84ntMl7FN8XhG0CT6qyjepxjr5yAhGUP_dMt3ZEm6KsUNkcWHJw/s400/IMG_7910_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373379825372916034" /><div> hours earlier in the darkness. There were a couple travel trailers on the other side of the river with four wheelers sitting outside their doors. Kenai ran around for a few minutes, we didn't see any bears, got back to the truck and headed out again.</div><div><br /></div><div>From Wasilla we had the option to go to Fairbanks from there on Highway 3 but had decided to head towards Tok instead. We arrived in Tok, Alaska shortly. We knew this was the last spot for cell phone coverage for a while depending upon which way we went so we made a call to our folks, warned them of the lack of cell phone coverage, fueled up and headed for the Canadian Border. We drove along the awful stretch of neglected highway, fingers crossed that we didn't</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwbny3vVgom5pGa3peSX1Qk9D9kZxjLo43Q962NZouZ8vamZ2rKC2giJnANQG-3az-h5tYQbGyYZfPy1Q_AMxLr3m9fpyhWUKAxg6r8bmcslxjQJlUn-87_Q2A4rlu_rGnRrBCDypyBhk/s400/IMG_7911_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373379820519471730" /><div> bust another lug bolt on the wheel and then finally reached the Canadian Border building. We passed through with much more ease than on our journey up. I don't think they had any internet connection there so it wasn't so official feeling with barcode scanners and what not. The questions were much shorter and we were on our way quickly. By this time we had decided that Haines Alaska was to be our next stop. We had really started to fantasize about taking the ferry all the way down and Haines would be our last place to do this from. We also had heard that Haines Alaska was a place to see before you die...we didn't need much more convincing so we went for it.</div><div><br /></div><div>From Tok we went the same way we had come. The first "town" was Beaver Creek and then</div><div> Kluane Lake and then the town of Haines Junction was to follow. We stopped somewhere to let Kenai get a drink along a little lake that had a little decrepit dock and friendly bread loving ducks. By the time we got to Haines Junction it was about 10 p.m. at least. The sun was setting. It was surprising how much faster night was coming compared to two weeks earlier. The</div><div> daylight begins to disappear rapidly. Haines Junction was a town with no fuel that I could find both when we were driving in and now, driving out. There were gas stations but all were abandoned looking. So we continued on for Haines. We stopped along the way to let Kenai out</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNVLU2ttnpCwcySAApB2YJmXERRAmgtxVl45OSINQHip8YOpTHFNPeLM0aOdSRiqhOqAwK0T8EcIhJkBBgA-r9TjjvEUZp-_-sEi1IEN4OFH2zHNbs-g_NGqWFLfmrECbNZWyfjlts-Q0/s400/IMG_7914.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373379509732411586" /><div> at a little lake with a tiny dock. Darkness again crept in with authority as it was still raining. As we began our trek towards Haines the fog thickened greatly. We were driving over mountains as far as we could tell. All you could see was the stretch of 20 feet of road in front of you and for the most part, all you could tell was you were alone and maybe driving through the sky. There was nothing on either side of us through much of this drive. I wondered what the view was like. I'm sure it was amazing. As the fuel gauge approached "E" and as the fog thickened I stayed more awake. Even though there were relatively no cars on this segment of road there were several porcupine encounters. Porcupines? WTF! Amidst the fog and darkness and rain were porcupines crossing the road</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb-lCKs2y8wH4Jwvb1cUof7Ek9eap9OhqMkJBdMFN4SYiqJqYlzkJeL_2EtqypOLoal8nsNr7M0tCm8EjiHzWsQVQxALQ7ExKPbRV7ZF71UFMM9OLsXLzeOAzzrSimsrOtCMfU61jc-lI/s400/IMG_7919_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373379498484513778" /><div>. Go figure. It was eerie. We thought for sure that if we were to run over a crazed road crossing porcupine that a flat tire would be a for sure thing.</div><div> One poked his head out here, another was crossing the other half of the road and the third, with some special-ops type movie style vehicle maneuvers hit our differential and we felt a solid thud under the floor boards of our truck. Luckily the larger that I envisioned porcupine missed our back tires. Phew! </div><div><br /></div><div>We approached the U.S./Canadian Border yet again. The only way to Haines by car from Anchorage or anywhere in Alaska is by crossing back into Canada and then back into the U.S. By this time it was about two or three a.m. and the U.S. border patrol was a sight for sore sleepy eyes. We had been driving straight since Tok Alaska. The Border Patrol informed us that if one were trying to go from the U.S. to Canada at this time of night that they'd be out of luck because the Canadian Border was only open certain times but that the U.S. Border is open 24</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqK_lqoTK-pOsUvE0M2jfbPtYznW-0P1gF4sWuyQ_mKJ-5IYfC_aQCx5WB_kvyb4eO6oTRw_Cc7qcbzKjgU7bBuxJXd2MlMXfjDn_fQMKWExUJ8OMmMt1kcKqVSKZBzz6G9ymdEDlLzxo/s400/IMG_7936.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373376070802365858" /><div> hours, thank god. Our truck fuel gauge was literally on E at this point. We were still about an hour from Haines and the Border Patrol informed us that all the gas stations would be closed until until around 8 a.m. We didn't want to wait that long because we wanted to be on the Ferry out of Haines if possible. I knew the Ferry Station would open early, probably six so we drove for a little and found a spot to pull off the road to get a couple hours of sleep.</div><div><br /></div><div>The town of Haines is next. Thanks for reading.</div><div><br /></div><div>Hailey Rose</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-42217778312773360912009-08-18T09:46:00.000-07:002009-08-18T16:06:03.710-07:00Take a breath and relax - Homer Alaska<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Do it</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> with me, take a deep breath and slowly let it out. Could you smell the fresh ocean air? Could you hear the seagulls and the waves gently rolling in? Woosh... woosh... the sun is out, it's about 65 degrees and it's time to just relax. Find a comfortable spot in your favorite chair or out on the deck, snuggle up with a good book or a sketch pad or.... just sit and<img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHdZuanGEbPpFYRsKN-pWZ3-mejubivPu0g-OoZU3C05-kDfq4IedA6pGofDbx4VoNYfefpP7p4PMHbTmFVnj26WHFiYV-EUcc3GjIQRFEsOaHFDFH_YDe4j3vhQ23hsTVSXuUjI9vdj8/s400/IMG_7181.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371442130915995618" /> stare out into the distance and day dream about the glacier you see, the mountains, the boats, nature....life. I did a lot of this in Homer. </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">We were in Homer for about 10 days and in Kenai for a couple days. Kenai Alaska,</span></span></div><img style="text-align: center;float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv076LpggIikiMW9TmLXzB0mVtvVO-I153E39nIWK6Agm_u_o-lGGZfJpieZ_uzjfv7ejn0y0weD8a9zVj2ih4jRePHzmnrp37zJMo-5_NcanJ2VrSCOKwiI2ceCLBXGeY2JLeJ_QyaTU/s400/IMG_7228.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371442119574829778" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "> located on the Kenai Peninsula is about an hour and a half drive from Homer. The Kenai River is what has made this town and it's neighboring town of Soldotna famous. The Kenai river, in the summer months, is a rip roaring huge river of the most beautiful blue green water you'll ever see. I've never seen a river with a color like this river has. Some of the best and biggest Salmon ever caught have been caught on this river. In fact, the world record of the largest salmon ever caught was caught on this river. The King Salmon weighed in at 97.4 pounds and was caught by Les Anderson in 1985. Les Anderson owned the Ford dealership in Kenai and I got to meet him myself when I was about 12 years old. My eyes were big and round while listening to him tell me about the fish he had caught. All I remember</span></span></div><img style="text-align: center;float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiplc5SrTHCdfzYTyJxEQQdTp5djlFLdGVWpNA-ii4OjPBLbG6pUc0kNXXAa4tCTsFB_2PoVFseJ8HQ7Ys2TkCwfXvzkGra6ZN4J48o7zDYP4E9chNbOxbyKuFG_ga49E0t3f0xfYzll_Y/s400/7504.8x8.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371440919831725522" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "> was that it took hours and he had to go into the river to keep from being spooled by the monster of a fish. During the month of July 50,000 - 80,000 King Salmon swim their way up the Kenai River in search of their spawning grounds. If you are so lucky to catch the next world record, and if you went and bought your derby ticket earlier that day you win $50,000. Pretty exciting.</span></span></div><img style="text-align: center;float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 372px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLC6NQ-1K8NoX62hShpDMVxUVaWlw3t2QSIxAvfSi338-OYCLCZkST8eiq-ajC-jfNrvoFzyVtVP9iLYXo4T6QJF2Rh1i6JLPewLScGqkfxyNK3WGiF-tzdM-qrlKqQDbb3SDh35pM3hI/s400/IMG_7469.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371440912094967154" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Homer was much more peaceful and relaxing than Kenai. All the dip netters were in Kenai the weekend we went trying to catch their fish limit. Alaska residents are allowed to catch a certain amount of salmon per person which they catch using huge handheld nets and I think the whole state was in Kenai. The nets seem to be about 6-8 feet long and the opening to the net seems to be about 3 feet across. </span></span></div><img style="text-align: center;float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd6hgEKVpNhyphenhyphenN5o3F4jh273qYp-xlDSgRxcZBFn9LPP22KnXx6rAiowWbmJgEkb-yoSPuEHCpS9vwmbB62mpLjXSitVin5UjLxniRoN299XPg5Hm4pYxB5e4EScHH0g_Ect9EjoJZgHjw/s400/IMG_7517.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371440906742163858" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">You can pretty much figure if you see a truck or boat with a big dip net on it, that they are Alaska residents as they are the only ones who can catch their fish this way that I know of. I was anxious to get back to the quiet beach house back in Homer. We stayed at our friends house on the Kenai River for one night, caught a couple fish in the river and went home. The fish were pretty quiet the day we fished the river. I suspect the fish were all getting caught by the dip netters getting their allocation of fish down stream. It was nice to get back to Homer and away from all the chaos.</span></span></div><img style="text-align: center;float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifhihAQ4ws2AlP0TzyrTBieL72e642GbmasxXkYgZrgbfISamC8EswwQ-u2Tzdy96gSMc9mIeJ88XK1woyvoLAyuHCL414eG3bpKIAVO6PFY5GOXysSGq3LURuoRF9lcR351hUt7qS9Bw/s400/7509.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371440593025447778" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Back in Homer we took an afternoon to go over to a little place called Halibut Cove. Halibut Cove is only accessible by boat or plane. The boat ride is about 30 minutes from the Homer Harbor on a calm day. We took our husky dory out for a trip. </span></span></div><img style="text-align: center;float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcLkhq9DfagyHgEpKbCsjffCm9Py18Afs471x5JwhcHX1GvA_A_UyhDvcXY83yuJe2LGuG-gBF4N91Ryo0J4bUXjOZ8fBtpw91OuhoDQrzj7VEHb2exDnzIHkyYC5gCNV-fOuVE0CF7F4/s400/7488.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371440587360461586" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">This was mostly to take some pictures and to show Darren the infamous Halibut Cove. The best part about visiting Halibut Cove in my opinion is the view as you are floating into the cove. The homes and cabins all whisper mystery to me. You can see the rickety wooden steps coming down the sheer rock faces to their little docks where they have or have had their boats tied up. Trees surround each of the cabins giving each place the look of seduction and adventure. What more could a girl want? Mystery. Seduction. Adventure. Perfect. My kind of place.</span></span></div><img style="text-align: center;float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIOA22fYJGFm9EWEzteTaWFdxkz9-6GnxAjTgd81h_UfSbp4-OFmPdSSqh1tbPWsme5wpnBxOQpQgd8plOKPeqM0XV5e10sbSQgWu3qKb0yIShJGNW2y5GUapsWDBiovAagaWRqewisgk/s400/7457.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371440334046630610" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">A boardwalk connects most of the homes and you are welcome to walk down in it during a certain time of the day. I suppose the boardwalks are all privately owned and</span></span></div><img style="text-align: center;float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmVL3vj6DFUW26AJxVmTaIsTudC_hBC4dGJQ5SqeshOQZuGpsH8Sa4X-BqRGipgLqDujCjwiRccmbpx8kUcM3goyqKf9nOBucFb82YWMnqQ8r195iP4_P-XHvrLHRpjCCUsFBNbROwjSY/s400/7394.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371440325345748146" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "> not just anyone is welcome to walk along them at any time of the day. The boardwalk leads you past some homes, little pastures, and into artist galleries. Luckily we showed up during the time it was "okay" to walk on the boardwalks. We spent about 45 minutes taking pictures and wandering around. We</span></span></div><img style="text-align: center;float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi21A3ljple9bRkXl_XvWRpH8VlTFYEw0-9JdEchm0tQ73XAjMPshDuKr9b0-DS-0Enz28wK45FY6mKR12rCrOzXvVHC9NlU3VHTukWZvEzuoC8S9bjYVLizgSE2ZQYkM6CbYZjTd5ILBg/s400/7360.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371440321601957746" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "> ventured into a couple art galleries, smiled at some of the locals, one man said it was a waste to have so many young people just wandering about and not working. ... that's nice, badger the young tourists who may spend money about not working. We all smiled and walked by. For all he knew, we didn't speak English as there are many foreigners visiting. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img style="text-align: center;float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOWCJF3Q-3I2Kf2AUobVmfTyzFo4C5_y_1EvDVI7ZjjKmVkieGCkFWxPdxwvXHXgjB97ilrUaYn6yBOE0ygFSQiP93VhNm2ASbs3FhHrrYZkl0Pwepca-LeQZmIROB9ybygDuDdxeqjlY/s400/7309.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371440312829389922" /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">We took the boat out a couple more days, and did some fishing. We caught a lot of fish but they were all "junk" fish for the most part. We caught lots of Irish Lords. Irish Lords are one of the ugliest fish ever. They have this huge open mouth and big ugly bulgy eyes with a little meatless narrow body. We must have caught 30 or 40 of these. We also caught some flounder and sole and some baby halibut that were just too cute to eat. It was fun though. It was nice to be out in the ocean, land in sight of course since we were in such a small boat, but out in our own little space of peace and quiet with the boat bobbing beneath us, the birds flying by and relaxing. It was cold though. Don't think for a minute we were out in shorts and t-shirts. We all had our Under Armor on with several layers of clothing</span></span></div><img style="text-align: center;float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAzT_qKkUBk3iLxRwNZNkLO3TeRjxxF4GoUem-xOXdrUIR_pduHY_jcB6GZTENQcFa4Fow81OHetI5_LuCn6Ks83_5kuGDho6uQFs5CXBKg0jFlL5D8U3MUckdFDLG9LKYn6kxm9ehGko/s400/7306.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371440303004896338" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "> complete with hats and gloves. It is always a lot cooler on the water than on land. We saw lots of otters floating around on their backs with rock in one paw and shell in other, floating, calculating our distance from them and then all at once rolling over quickly and diving down. It made me wonder if they dropped their rock and meal or if they still held onto it once they rolled and dove. We explored up China Poot Bay another day. China Poot held more mystery, seduction and adventure in it's</span></span></div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOtJrwPEEZqYF_rkFzSZy8NmaCuNRWvk-YAWLd2pcljZiF6sSF_SZi3GaSfgTzGY9xCvoQIV_oSztDO1hGN9bMeM9HvFNfJT0endzdQ7ZO-EcsD8yhTtyiAXpkET0ENTU2satJg7IQvxQ/s400/7607.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371436333549388082" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "> scenery than Halibut Cove did. We didn't spend much time there. There weren't any fish biting and it was much more secluded and private feeling so there weren't any</span></span></div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVl3xMM17ZAX47iHBsnmiiQ8E9sGxh8qu2tZKWdTs0XnjYPYD_67BfxgtscaJVvxrq1CYMp30RO-w7AKd1P_EpI9cpDKQR7iFaspHKSMBPi9bNv1RGkFJq_wG-_xT2Re_AO3JyPoE4t_Y/s400/7591.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371436292264483618" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "> boardwalks to walk down which was okay. I preferred viewing from the ocean anyway. I don't know the history as to why it's called China Poot, but the main mountain you see that looks just like a volcano is called Poot Peak. I would like to climb that mountain one day. There's a funny ledge that pokes out on one side, you can see it in the photos. I want to stand on the edge of that ledge and look out over the wilderness. One day maybe I will. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I loved going down to the beach. We all went down a couple times and Darren and I</span></span></div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBfHenWa2R9zoFPj7UT2txVWxwrp82UBkQER-4C2K5am9Wiw76ezkmBjEGeY4viOxnaBOuSPIcub4zevM6L0K3WRUBs1Br1-cZhjPIVzrBNXD4sHhN_8tsRuT_PdCwNKQy6VHLZ_S7Kzg/s400/IMG_7671.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371435099947985410" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "> went a couple extra times. I liked looking for treasures on the beach. Nobody was on our beach. It was all private beach, no public access. Just private owners all along it so it made for all sorts of things to be found and lots of peace and quiet. The tide swings in Homer are huge so you have to watch the tide and know when it's time to go so you</span></span></div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM0mx3EYMbg-aDX_F2cWBLbjMsPKBAcP_ot7C5lNGDlmAhcHrnRtdF2MASK0TZ3kLQ3p_8ybNOYQ5KukxewUkdLzJAfBZOBBa4XSsYJ9Vidh-90HLIri7c9FFWmdd11xnqFuzX0_8KzVw/s400/7725.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371434615831719010" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "> don't get stranded somewhere against a cliff when the ocean rolls back in. Kenai loved the beach. She loved all the sticks and the water. She is such a funny dog. If you tell Kenai to get something, she will get it. She will attack it. Stick, rock, clam, sand... whatever. You can point to the ground and say, "get it!" and she will dig and dig looking for whatever she is "getting" all while growling and barking her aggravation at trying to get it. Silly girl. I think the beach was Kenai's favorite part. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">By the time it was our last day to take the boat out, we all had pretty well learned what our jobs were when putting the boat in or pulling the boat out of water. </span></span></div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTyWNh1bzd_xE4FCil2j6KfhfrKgBNm6ReQbBYOpU8z9TiYfUvDkNYbDx6EuYvlWTdGIK_KCc7Sivc3lM_bxSx4kvvFXAzyHM_U5hUBmVD0nm1u3c-TVZPeGtvXUuNqb0vL4PfL5PR7f4/s400/7717.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371434608521883234" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">My job was to collect the launch fee, fill out the little paper and put it with the money in the lock box then to run down to the dock where my father was launching the boat in and hold onto a line. Darrens job was to undo the line and crank that held the boat on the trailer and to hold a line once on the dock as well. My sisters jobs included bringing down the gear, loading boat, undoing the string on the steering wheel that kept the motor from twisting sideways and to assist in keeping other boats from bumping into us by pushing them away from us. It was really fun. We all had our jobs. </span></span></div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAP4VN3G1v-9yKxy1qYeWlndyfPEtDfkOdhncEzva_pnHwHLrq-a2AdMD1_l-qbmYwN7Cfi6R1Dvm5TmYA8Q35lL3zrOkR7PsqG7TM0bpf4joKQ2JPwK9mn67I_U6JpgEgV_TKT97uIaw/s400/7688.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371434600441334386" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">We all had found our place and without each other it would have been more difficult. It was fun to work as a team. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhALdXX1BloSPfTaeBh0p3mO6YunLydhudSvUAN-aPPo0V0RgohNMFaBYhg3UpLvbad5GXWSypmdu1z5CxCg8CsjU3uHhif6zAqH0R8VrPFrE9m0tLjPE9BV-9mO3a3ndPRuJ67pwTlrLk/s400/7713.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371434594518857506" /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">The moose came to visit again the day before we left. Kenai regularly barked at the moving brush in the night. She knew the moose were there, I'm sure she could smell them. I couldn't see them or smell them but I trusted what Kenai knew was true. It was surprising to see how much larger the moose calves had already gotten since when we had arrived. They looked like stout ponies you could ride. The mother moose was still very annoyed that we had moved into her space and made sure to let us and the dog know this. I told mama moose that she would have the yard all to herself again in just another day. I don't think she understood me. </span></span></div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpOrpHQZSBkVvP_Vdh25wvAW0XZAYE3tNXSB22Zs_obSMvynQU3IjwjkqJFIJwLDrDnlreeI4JHTxbCpKqn8smqbyqrXD-EdU3TIbThRbLrTi4DLLtc9_6lCfrHlvXw36HcDyWjfU-cyc/s400/7702.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371434583827888386" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">Mama moose and the calves explored the area around the trucks and boat. Mama moose nibbled on my truck antenna and the calves licked the salt off the boat motor. Finally they decided to move on again. I figured this would be the last time I saw the trio as our time in Homer was ending the next day. It was kind of sad. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi473rvvjKgYlTU37GXtQbXBEJnO1xtNjd1yy2hU1ijCkJ87ttmhuKqSW_wGCGuYJW8rHL1vG_WQYkGw5LIehiWuTB_AcowJ3crSPvlewzJXGc4CQyOAhTTNPrsz9-oofkHSq9fyInq1GA/s400/IMG_7801.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371433241617072754" /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">The day to leave came all to fast as it always seems to come when you're on vacation in a place you really love. Cassie, Darren and I went to some garage sales and stopped up on the ridge for some pictures of both the ocean and of the wilderness on the other side of the ridge. The fireweed was in full bloom by now and it moved like purple waves across the open meadows. It was truly beautiful. I decided then that I wanted to paint what I saw. It is on my to do list. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk6y8JIuL9C-TGHcoT4te18TZHTGa7Y8xjggiKoRMyMCXTHOw_O_75fB-wf7WBO7bLVhAuRDxmH5OrThgjp9OzsFIORfKNhjG8-BSukbCTYGKCZsNyq7uRbLf2Vaj6HIhFvhjdU9kpjO8/s400/IMG_7764.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371433231849656610" /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">We got back to the cabin, shut her all down and we all said goodbye to the cozy little beach house. It was kind of sad to leave it. She was sitting there, like as though she was happy to have someone come stay in her and then sad that she would be all alone again. Just her and the moose for the fall, the winter and the spring until next summer when we would all be bustling about her and relaxing all in one. Does that make sense? To me it does.</span></span></div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcvfO8Oj2Ws6xkCxyfz8sp7nKw-GuskICeH6Zlc9yz4QHwzPJCetL7pJ0R75xyixh1bAMvvGQoPivZMJeWY7EShyqL8h-BL8D5G0gkFgo_SumZ66IxGd9TAY2oVV_heYTBqWzHskLmwlA/s400/7820.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371431452703807266" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">We put the boat away, put the truck away, positioned the Bronco until our next arrival. Luggage was dragged from the house, down the steps to my truck. Sleeping bags, totes, found beach and garage sale treasures carefully organized and stacked to the ceiling of the truck shell. Kenai was sad. She looked at us when we told her to get in the truck and then looked around, like as though asking us if this was it. Her eyes asked, are we coming back? Come on Kenai, time to go. I think she knew and she reluctantly jumped in the truck and went in her crate.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 355px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWZLj-09m9ECeXkvEx4vYEl6LPs_oK-3FkTPOkplapY_780YD5C2syT9b4Sn3l6ExuZ4DR8rjgOAe7kOJWdzlOb0LsTl6ef4u9MreGf2P549tlvApczaMVPVhG6E4vTVXGNbfg5clDsPk/s400/7823.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371431443893659266" /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">The drive into Anchorage was sad too. We all knew our trip and adventure that we had been enjoying all together was coming to an end. This was it, the end of the trip. As with every vacation, you have to go back to reality at some point. At least for Darren and I, we still had a week of adventure to go but I thought about how quiet it would be.</span></span></div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmrWg02eHJSisTiZW_e5f5wpVPSs8HmgPZIbNS9V3Edw4IChSN3dhE5jvtAnbX5swYF8HhFKt5vBb3hMKQ6wFKwrnKh-27YurQhJADdH8kBLKmq7rjaOXFohtkGDUxhzcy9RCS154NBlE/s400/7841.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371431433680424354" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "> There had been six of us staying in a two bedroom beach house with one in operation sink and two toilets. I had gotten to know my sisters more so in those 10 or so days than I had in the last 5 years. Being that we don't live together, it was surprising how much we had all missed out on. Experiences had been shared, stories had been shared and I grew to love my sisters even more.</span></span></div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPzJgvssUmmrq5AEfGQ-A_-u0HQ7hd9Taq9lcqGPKKLHNDBAkGb-0tgPVky7uRJLfg1Vns9s7i_ul4sF8dZghsTRWGFT3Qfp5BDXTLOesNkjn9nB0fLiRVntRmFpF4m-4AZlgX2Zr8vbc/s400/7846.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371431420684923762" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "> Advice, thoughts and dreams had been shared and I knew none of us would ever forget this trip. That one summer in Alaska when dad went with his four girls. That trip when we were all young, that trip when we all learned something about ourselves and each other. The trip where we all gave each other nicknames. The trip we would always remember. We all had grown closer and we all knew it. I couldn't think about all of this at the time. I knew it, but couldn't think about it. I can't be seen crying. I'm the oldest, I am to be the strongest. I focused on the rest of the trip Darren and I still had ahead of us. We all hugged, wished each other safe trips and they walked through the airport doors and they were gone.</span></span></div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGS_-Mdd9u0jISzVuy6OJKYhhpFkPaBGywWCeA6uDTrfhlJtvWdN7AYp3qWpCchZ1_g0-2xtY5OnbTsOZ7f904F4c8YvJLehAJM-Rrpswu7ZiKo8OlYP6LfDB0g-FFUJH5RmnM5SeRiQM/s400/7866.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371431120548426834" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Thanks for reading, more to come.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Hailey Rose </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div> </div><div><br /></div>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-15448776352405120322009-08-14T11:37:00.000-07:002009-08-14T12:03:20.146-07:00Gimps is what they call me now.<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330099;">There's a part about this trip that I haven't told you about. A painful part and I thought I would share. It is kind of gross so I am warning you right now to not go any further if you have a sensitive stomach. :)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330099;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330099;">Two days before we began our amazing road trip I did something really stupid. It's one of those things that just happens within a split second and as soon as it happens you just know it's bad.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330099;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330099;">You hear this sickening SNAP! and POP! The pain shoots up, you feel the blood rushing and the heat building almost instantly all while you feel faint and about to pass out but you hold yourself together.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330099;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330099;">What happened? I sprained my ankle. I jumped off of a pickup tailgate. All of 4 feet and I landed wrong. My left ankle gave way, and my foot twisted underneath with all 140 pounds and the force of inertia coming down on it all at once. It was bad. Real bad but I had hay to pick up hay on the tractor so I kept going. I worked for another couple hours picking up hay and it was painful the whole time. I literally could not walk on it and every hop I took made me want to pass out or throw up or both. But, I made it... got most of the hay in and went home. I was so mad at myself! How could I do this right before the trip of our lifetime. I was mad, so mad I bawled. I felt like I was going to ruin this whole trip for poor Darren. And sweet Darren, I don't know what I'd do without him in my life, was so sweet and so kind and so perfect! I could never ask for a better man because there isn't a better one. He made me lie down, put my poor foot up, iced it all up just beautifully with frozen peas and corn, made me take some advil to help with swelling mostly and after all that he wrapped my ankle up so nicely with ACE bandage. He wouldn't let me go to work the next day and I am so glad he did because I would have gone in.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330099;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330099;">My ankle was fat, real fat and painful. I couldn't walk and it was so aggravating. I had so much to do. Things to load, pack, etc. By the day we were to leave it was feeling much better. The swelling had already gone down quite a bit. A purple color was setting in but I could actually gingerly walk around.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330099;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330099;">Once on the road though, I couldn't keep it elevated like I had been and the blood began to pool more and more. A pounding throbbing numbing sensation would start in my ankle and slowly creep up my leg more and more as I would drive. So then I'd stick my left leg up somewhat out the window and continue driving. Good thing nobody was around on the roads as I'm sure it would be an interesting site to see and probably illegal. Three days in a truck with a badly sprained ankle was not good for it. Are you ready to see the picture? Picture one is of me taking off the bandage and picture two...is my disgusting foot. I felt like my foot looked like it belonged to a walking ghoul or zombie. It looked dead but I could still more my toes... it was a strange feeling. My sisters were disgusted. But so sweet to help me around.</span></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEFV6df34PdxZ_XaYt2fA6pheK8uQM4ueGgcOv2zkI69AhSgyFQX3Gg2dcQ0DzGFq2Ik62vQP0FUVM_bDDUCi_0sOY5SDXQhDkN4DaeYeWw7QrdYXaNpNG0B2nz8uMq6jpYHCgSJoFC3k/s400/DSC_0053.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369894018183919474" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9BvAFmkZ2iZDubs5A559ygsunU7wi-pQS0YQQPGMTXFG9SgspMT8EzubvQGDm6_YGSayhCkdpvfY1cr8p0gUtfKJ1LfjDWSujSF6HlJWXqtS3xAdGeqO-SStRwBlu1iUk3_gPXVQJSeA/s400/DSC_0054.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369894023456762898" /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330099;">The black and blue was intense and went all the way into my toes and up my leg. My sisters soon came up with a fantastic nick name for me. GIMPS! and GIMPY. They would call for me and greet me like as though as was a puppy or something... "Aww! Gimps!!" it was kind of embarassing in public when they'd do it but I knew it was all love. So now you know, I've shared it with you. The painful part of the trip you now know about. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330099;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330099;">My ankle is still swollen but the black and blue and purple has gone away. I can walk pretty normal now but I cannot run without the pain bouncing up and down my leg telling me to stop. More like saying... "What the **** are you doing?" :) </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330099;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330099;">Thanks for reading. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330099;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330099;">Hailey Rose </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330099;">aka Gimps!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330099;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-32619694386430600052009-08-13T10:27:00.000-07:002009-08-14T09:54:35.578-07:00Homer Alaska<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ZiDzuoaA5JCt5gKdZh-hDk1rznuVsAcH-jJareAt8hPLu392IlWyAhm0V1djIWDVM6CwSakS7TRFHtrg_raIVUKBSY1xOCD3ftqN1RbLValKhCWD5dla96z-GPjpKnx_UJuNuSO0WPk/s1600-h/IMG_7123.WM.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 273px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ZiDzuoaA5JCt5gKdZh-hDk1rznuVsAcH-jJareAt8hPLu392IlWyAhm0V1djIWDVM6CwSakS7TRFHtrg_raIVUKBSY1xOCD3ftqN1RbLValKhCWD5dla96z-GPjpKnx_UJuNuSO0WPk/s400/IMG_7123.WM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369862623972658274" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCDq2YcdATgccRO3s53N0ZhAkqMAVJsKXxjSFEbW_vINbpLRbkRDp-GVPzmggrdJ-Ugy-dqEI4Ovn7oeHqX85cTeJzIVeiwjGG7YwVHS0FG-7BDahuhwFS_45aFaoMfhQ7528kg3b1nQ/s1600-h/IMG_7095.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCDq2YcdATgccRO3s53N0ZhAkqMAVJsKXxjSFEbW_vINbpLRbkRDp-GVPzmggrdJ-Ugy-dqEI4Ovn7oeHqX85cTeJzIVeiwjGG7YwVHS0FG-7BDahuhwFS_45aFaoMfhQ7528kg3b1nQ/s1600-h/IMG_7095.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Homer Alaska</span> is as far South as the road system extends from Anchorage. This is where the road ends. You cannot go any further by car, simple as that.</span></a><div><div><div><br /></div><div>I have heard, although I cannot prove that actor Clint Eastwood had a vacation home here in Homer and Tom Bodett, the "we'll leave the light on for you" Motel 6 guy use to (maybe still does?) have a home here. Tom Bodett was actually the one who kind of "put Homer on the map" sort of speak. According to Tom Bodett's tales, Homer is the "End of the Road" and is "at the end of the Sterling Highway surrounded by wilderness and ocean." </div><div><br /></div><div>Homer Alaska is well known in many circles, by many people all around the world. Although the town isn't as quaint and small fishing village feeling as it once was 15 years ago when my father and I first went up together, the town still maintains that feel in some ways. Some of the "nick</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 323px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk1lAS9Bnuc_WL96L0k7G37sm9qLpaGY7_ad4QR3tA5pVweacXQzHKj1hB89KgDUBgUTy3WRxPGicykuVi5PFy3XNFsUlc33by4w5PsWadnZw8_afu5KGqM9S_k1aXaVqUCL9D-jDAt1k/s400/IMG_7164.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369863543718151186" /><div> names" Homer Alaska goes by are: <div><br /></div><div>"The cosmic hamlet by the sea"</div><div><br /></div><div>"The end of the road" - Tom Bodett</div><div><br /></div><div>"Halibut fishing capital of the world"</div><div><br /></div><div>and my favorite... "A quaint little drinking village with a fishing problem."</div><div><br /></div><div>There is lots to do in Homer Alaska. Fill your days with Halibut fishing or bear viewing. Go catch a theatrical performance at Pier One Theater out on the Homer Spit. Take a walk down the beach or bicycle down the Homer Spit. Walk the boat harbor, go to the museum, go for a hike or enjoy some berry picking. There are some great horse back rides and four wheel trails. There really is so much to do and the list goes on. </div><div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 304px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqg3hhhbAMSpDpwOTcCspzWzOYDFk4c6fMeUdAnLT_MnYSfAAyjYubSS4dX2qe4ci_b5i4MjnKhrWYzSVWCZuU3Slub9M-8EVR3C8aUmuDb6i9T69VjG1DmOPmCF1AL-trFaDC4scV4oY/s400/IMG_7166.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369860547327011426" /></div><div>Want a beer with the locals? Stop by the Salty Dawg Saloon out on the Homer Spit next to the Boat Harbor. Mingle with the fishermen fresh off the boat, hang your dollar bill on the covered ceiling and wall. Carve your name into the table and don't mind the underwear and bras hanging all about to remind you that things get wild in this little saloon. Enjoy some pool in the back or some darts. The local beer tastes pretty good too. A must stop and see, even if you don't drink.</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx22UUbvod1jK1y71StBUroMKHGW8vMi8xU_-w-mFyv4AbpH_Wik6bXa8QFOGOWI2VP5DzdmCEnqbvW4vS56J0FTM-veGWa0y4eTTKmMczv3j1olFYexKuEPvf4YjVucII_79Tdk0YQX0/s400/IMG_7136.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369848870663834898" /><div><br /></div><div>While you are out on the famous Homer Spit, be sure to go see the Lands End Resort Hotel. It's literally at the Lands End of the road on the Homer Spit with a great view. Many places in Homer are more like a view with a room. The rooms are usually decent although I haven't stayed in one for several years and the food isn't something to write home about but at the least, go enjoy some soup, slow but nice service and the extraordinary view from their dining room. All of the boats go by here because it's the only way to the Harbor which makes for lots to see and enjoy, especially if you like boats like Darren and I do. We</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1GFeGyxDm7_nlwnpqSvgx3jBhXNBtu0y0RM9be3R1iry5end7xSKjZLRe5Wf6_pRq9G-tK_ePI7P3BOzz7H6q9oQ5CXyWR7OezMKlFMjcABEXTE4Pb5QNQe78nUlFGWT0gy3VG_-CCe4/s400/IMG_7139.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369848861739986706" /><div> enjoyed some clam chowder while watching the boats</div><div> come in. </div><div><br /></div><div>The shops on the spit are fun for us girls to go through. Being an artist myself, I enjoy seeing</div><div> the locals art work on display in the many shops. They really tout the "Alaskan Artist" thing up there. Alaskan artwork varies from photography to carvings to paintings to sculptures to ... just everything. There are lots of artists in Alaska and I can see why. The views, the terrain, the life (minus the winter i think) is very inspirational. I work on inspiration, so that is important to me. I was looking for some fresh inspiration from this trip, and I found it. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We went to the Farmers Market one Saturday and really enjoyed the performance by Shamwari (i may have spelled that wrong but it was something like that). Caitlin really enjoyed it because she plays percussion, xylophone type instruments and some drums in school and does performances throughout the year. The performance was great. It wasn't just music. The musicians were full on entertainment to watch. They were really into the rhythm, the beat, the vibe, the feel. I wish I had my camera. I'd done what every photographer should never do and</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBk_Te_0hGzpfnqtxODHeTUdgTWL6Awa0p0ecK0dD4tYwnnsZa63u3sUsZm840ZzPzFUH8CG-b8r6rS9rz-KN5-LafkbIXka2zV8OoW-JM9rCQ6705QO_F9T3xdfLZngrSeFZ3u4jZ2W0/s400/IMG_7130.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369847204646266962" /><div> that's leave the camera at home!! Bad move as I would have had some great photos to show you. The band consisted of several women, 4? and one guy. They were all really into playing their instruments and looked like they were just having a total blast! People were all gathered around, clapping to the beat, smiling, talking, laughing, little kids two and three years old were dancing about with rocks they'd picked up in their hands, and it had just a great overall fabulous vibe. The musicians very talented. We were amused by the man playing, he looked like a nice guy but it also looked like he really enjoyed his pot back in the day or maybe still does... haha, he had this spacey look, it almost didnt look like he was even playing, but then the next</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCDq2YcdATgccRO3s53N0ZhAkqMAVJsKXxjSFEbW_vINbpLRbkRDp-GVPzmggrdJ-Ugy-dqEI4Ovn7oeHqX85cTeJzIVeiwjGG7YwVHS0FG-7BDahuhwFS_45aFaoMfhQ7528kg3b1nQ/s400/IMG_7095.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369847191042680306" /><div> song started and this clearly... was "his song" as he was really into it. It had a real up beat bongo wongo kind of rhythm and he perked right up and you could feel his excitement and enjoyment beaming off of him while he played. He looked so happy. You just had to be there really. It was a great performance. I would totally buy a CD from them but I can't find them online. :( The Farmers market was small and cozy. They had all sorts of veggies, herbs, and things I'm not sure what they were. There was some photography, bags, and other little things too. I didn't buy anything, nothing "spoke" to</div><div> me to purchase it so I didn't. </div><div><br /></div><div>For lunch one afternoon we visited the Cosmic Kitchen. They have two locations. One on Main Street and one on the spit. I'd heard they served great breakfast but by the time we got there we could no longer order breakfast so instead we had some mexican food which really was surprisingly good. Even though the food was good, I'm not sure I'd go there again just because I had a hard time getting past the nice braless cashier girl who looked like it'd been a few days since her last shower and the cook with the long dirty dreadlocks. I'm not saying they weren't nice ... I'm just staying... I'm not into it. But, like I said, the food was good. I had a burrito and it had green beans in it among other veggies and it was quite delicious. I'd never had a Mexican</div><div>Burrito with green beans in it. We ate at the one on Main Street and sat outside on the deck. It was trying to rain and it was about 50 degrees. It was nice. While I</div><div> enjoyed the strangest burrito of my life I day dreamed about myself and my sisters having an Alaskan Restaurant up here one day. Maybe when we are all 60 years old or so, we'll do it for a mid life crisis thing. :)</div><div>While you are in Alaska, you just have to keep in mind that you are in Alaska. That may sound so obvious but when you get there, you'll know what I mean. You are in Alaska with it's great menagerie of people. You have all types. Hippies, "hairy unwashed bush people", artists,</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSfCu1a-DZJBgI5Q_X2hUtZM8sLLty1VL4HuLfPxMd3gOBJIeJGDz96c7hJ22_8cH-4pVZ8e9kDDrb0oAjKqL3sam95W3YjbIhQATPThIV8G9PTF1J_whVNu1iX0dCGvmmGrsb9mhbnLE/s400/7142.8x10.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369847171357246274" /><div> natives, actors, fishermen, tourists from all around the world, Russians in their full traditional attire which is actually quite elegant looking... etc. But, that's kind of what makes it a cool vibe too. You CAN fit in in Homer Alaska. Wear whatever you</div><div> want, do or say whatever you want... and you fit in. It's comical, but serious and all in all, interesting. I LOVE Homer. I love Alaska, complete with all it's interesting people.</div><div><br /></div><div>This is probably a long enough blog for today. I'll have more soon. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks for reading.</div><div><br /></div><div>Hailey Rose</div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div></div>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-3706853907263130422009-08-11T11:06:00.000-07:002009-08-11T16:02:04.114-07:00Tok to Homer Alaska<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwLIAwdefwMdrK254IECT7X-sIcOrGXYtK3vVec5iddu6RqjnOCOx9hwBupD1ZbEWfLMrNhrjGuxTfW9elCmT50pAYC5Te-al-ZRAjcD7Bm3SYSxw7niJL_w-Yb1iI6kNYTsUhlmj-WjI/s1600-h/IMG_7004.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwLIAwdefwMdrK254IECT7X-sIcOrGXYtK3vVec5iddu6RqjnOCOx9hwBupD1ZbEWfLMrNhrjGuxTfW9elCmT50pAYC5Te-al-ZRAjcD7Bm3SYSxw7niJL_w-Yb1iI6kNYTsUhlmj-WjI/s400/IMG_7004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368827452741142082" /></a>We woke around 7 a.m. that morning. There hadn't been much traffic in the night so we slept quite soundly. I let Kenai out and we went for a little walk into the trees. I found some more yummy berries and lots of mosquitos. <div><br /></div><div>We pulled into the little town of Tok Alaska about 45 minutes later. From Tok you have three options. A) Go back the way you came B) Go to Fairbanks or C) Go to Anchorage. From Tok to Anchorage was 320 miles, six hours. It looked like we were going to pull into Anchorage with plenty of time to spare providing we didn't have any car trouble.</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqN3nJa9MdSUpb5hNAFmokgsO3QtM-bc1SXWJnv56Yw9Hw8iDEnIFaeYkPyvyus-3qEYkq3rPJ4eEKmy2mTHGEIwbXZe4DOqX8V52-wLfto3SmevdUeAObN_TPbtvTA8zCqRVdPVZEU0Q/s400/IMG_7000.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368827445071002658" /></div><div>Along the way to Anchorage we drove</div><div>through the Matanuska Valley where you could great mightly glaciers along the way from the road. The mountains were huge, reaching, soaring into the sky. The mountains went from covered with trees to raw barren tundra and dirt at the top. It looked cold and windswept. It reminded me of some of the Bear Grills or Les Stroud shows Darren and I love to watch. Man vs Wild and Survivorman.</div><div><br /></div><div>After many windy roads and fantastic views, we pulled into Anchorage at about 4 p.m. This gave us the</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1-s2UgR54Fb3zFBzMavKGLDJH1BJFSPOhDBMeNBJ_AvU92vdPUuaOHHcRjPYz8y5Y71RF9RfSFdWpOxd3a8gsK-3zoPkXB0jIUAJJDPHl0qSRTJfVBfbkFsNdi5tfqF9FKVuEsBNEog/s400/IMG_6997.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368827438726714770" /><div> opportunity to go make a CARRS run. CARRS is the grocery store chain in Anchorage. It is part of Safeway or vice versa and you can find Safeway/CARRS throughout Alaska and all the way down the coastline into Vancouver Canada and maybe even further. We picked up some fresh made California Roll Sushi and the most amazing chewy brownie like walnut and caramel cookies and the best coconut macaroons ever. Anchorage even had a Popeye's Chicken, so Darren had to go get some of that goodness. My family wouldn't be in for about another six hours so we found a spot right next to the airport where we could park and look out over the Cook Inlet at the tall buildings of</div><div>downtown Anchorage. We let Kenai out for a walk and we people watched. There were lots of people coming and going from this</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjal8KbdK0pHagb-xPoMNFa0TYAG6NXAS1Rkh2AUa6b5pdFfCQvQJAyDM29nSjB_j2mRJTZpgkH5hoC-sCWUUTcIFuhuyEJKQ5-QhEC-mk5p088c41IfwHjQYTl3uYcMzb56xe1xi6A-vg/s400/IMG_7012.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368833577472289090" /><div> park like parking lot so we didn't get nearly as much sleep as we were hoping. We got maybe 2 hours in and it was time to pick up the fam. I knew that we would be making the drive down to Homer that night so it was important to get some sort of sleep in but it wasn't nearly enough.</div><div><br /></div><div>We picked my family up on time, loaded up all the luggage into the crammed pickup bed. We all jammed into the cab and we headed for Homer. Homer is 223 miles south of</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIHrWkPjsZaNk4CoYwWKD9sJlyR3PzJhw-a7Og49xmTPbh_hyphenhyphenTPqPv1ulxH-xLRTwXylGYgPazGswl_ubsNFR_js1qRUcpVg8ktqgFq4POX6kOz7cePAzT7ZsQvLkWLTFlEihMCtODHNc/s400/IMG_7011.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368833565374773138" /><div> Anchorage and usually takes about 4 hours. I say "usually" because this wasn't the usual drive. The fog was</div><div> thick, the road wet, it was rainy and dark. I could sense the moose along the road and expected to see one any second. Visibility was horrible. In some places I think we had about 30 feet of visibility. Typically you can drive along at 50-60 mph but we were going about 30-40 mph. We rolled into Homer at about 6 a.m. The last couple hours of the trip I could not keep my eyes open. Everyone in the truck was sleeping, even Darren but I just couldn't keep going. So I woke Darren and asked him if he could drive. He said he could. I tried to stay up with him but I failed miserably. I fell</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs86f9HLXkPJ2BqxqYJ3upJHuHO3nwuHkzIRbCd4On0q0Ni1W2SHeVHpBAPkZ4Sc8SqDS5Ozj1ECE9CUwnGYX5iLbVC12uigdfIQHr8DQoGKWOWvHz09sgKbxN5RLZEt60CMPMZp_5UUU/s400/IMG_7019.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368833584007049490" />asleep and poor Darren was left to get us into Homer. He says he has no idea how he did it. Darren was like a walking Zombie. <div><br /></div><div>It was a nice quiet morning in town. I don't think we saw one car as we drove through Homer. We sneaked past town and finally got to the "Beach House." Kenai was happy to get out of her crate and we were all happy to get out of the crammed truck. We hauled our bags up the creaky steps and into the house. We rolled open all the blinds to reveal the breath taking sunrise over the beautiful Kachemak Bay. Beautiful as always. A view I had</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8KNzrJFuhGNpvfdH8mlqdg5PrwAtBT_1flhsOKQlPksa_5tgfNG-rM94gpmllydY9XBD8FnJhepjLkLyORvK50ojvBB_3YDDrE0GM44dGJpw4fC4eeMlFp325t_hvhGXhIdB7UVhPWcA/s400/IMG_7027.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368838361702315170" /><div> missed stretched before my eyes. All four of us sisters were out on the deck with our cameras taking pictures. It was beautiful. Darren was too zombie like to really say much. We didn't stay up long. We were all exhausted.</div><div><br /></div><div>Kenai slept on the porch next to the door. She was very quiet for a few hours...until... our Mama Moose decided to come investigate all the activity. Kenai bristle head to toe, nose to tail. Kenai had never seen a Moose before and I'm sure it smelled very strange. We've always had a few moose around the beach house so it was no surprise to us. In fact, my father</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn5_fzcnmFyuhHVltCx9iNLsM6IZw7TqOx9eSCCL5qwFHxZ02sSW0RepjuHh8w2nR4mrL3jGR8OFPGn3jv_bnJy14OtsxDbGVZKfAdHnJbO9oYTCIRXufL4fiY_9MR6mjFyylyaR911_o/s400/IMG_7029.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368838371972512226" />and I had even been chased down our driveway by a mad mama moose once. I knew all to well how<div> protective these beautiful animals could be. I tried to wake Darren up to no avail, and snuck out onto the porch with the camera to comfort Kenai and to look at the Mama Moose with her two beautiful calves. She sniffed our truck. She starred at the dog, more like gave the dog and I a death glare as my sister would call it. The calves were curious and checked everything out as well. I tried to tell Kenai it was okay but she didn't believe me. She kept growling. Kenai wanted to go down the steps to investigate this strange animal but I told her it wouldn't be a good idea. After a bit, Mama Moose moved on into the tall brush and</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQoZBbl3mwkjni25B5V_igI0pf2wuI6d_NH5z1O5ZpIBxS4UN9bBikWYJ4IZZM_Gc2d3EKbdA8Sbi8dWyfMzRBiis_Y2Rjte_TiWZVI9g0XtvsmdGvQFLspeskc9zTjd1usvwtmHC4sow/s400/IMG_7033.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368838384948800178" />everything was quiet again so I went back inside and back to<div>sleep for a couple more hours. </div><div><br /></div><div>It felt good to be in Homer. Least we knew we wouldn't have to drive for days on end for a little while. All in all, it took roughly 64 hours (including our naps) to get from Salt Lake City to Homer Alaska. </div><div><br /></div><div>I know I said that I'd write everyday, but I was crazy to think that was possible so please understand I'll be writing every day or two or three max. :) Thanks for reading. </div><div><br /></div><div>Hailey Rose</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-66295393862292767232009-08-08T20:13:00.000-07:002009-08-08T21:32:06.492-07:00To Watson Lake and Beyond<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjblI1RmDZSNb82csBHc_Ffmw65qlMK4YSpYWzmIe1zVAZtUZA-ORN-y-K9EngKmmxWTXp10e3jHb52xZGQepMJcgQL0fwv2vD8ujUU91mfOaSDlEFHbvBnlkbEaS_ZTLXKJrG5IHCtifo/s1600-h/IMG_6969.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjblI1RmDZSNb82csBHc_Ffmw65qlMK4YSpYWzmIe1zVAZtUZA-ORN-y-K9EngKmmxWTXp10e3jHb52xZGQepMJcgQL0fwv2vD8ujUU91mfOaSDlEFHbvBnlkbEaS_ZTLXKJrG5IHCtifo/s400/IMG_6969.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367807311070516866" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbNXQSZ7sijQeSEXvS2jba_RCDay4iaURvEJ1g4Icc2gJeRbiw8kXFG8CblokMsv1jDmRzFZCkL11bDad_vu9DazWnJm259HMskxMBExNtkEcG5dZetjiRq9Hu6Ip9OQfhwC2DHqc9-cc/s1600-h/IMG_6994.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">The drive from Fort Nelson, British Columbia to Watson Lake, Yukon Terriotory was about 6 hours which would be like driving from Salt Lake City, Utah to Las Vegas, Nevada but way more boring. The scenery was repetitive. Nothing much had changed since Dawson Creek. Twelve hours of the same scenery gets quite boring.</span></a> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; ">We did however get to see some great wildlife. There were some wild sheep just hanging out on the road, black bears and some beautiful herds of buffalo. That spiced things up quite a bit. The construction along the way slowed us down quite a bit too. In certain places we waited for at least 30 minutes for the pilot truck to come back to lead us through the miles of construction. People were out of their cars/trucks/RV's hanging out, enjoying the sunshine. Others were going along the tree line picking wild strawberries. By the time I decided to pick some wild strawberries, the line started to move so I jumped back in the truck with my four little wild strawberries. It was a tease to our taste buds. </span></span><div><br /></div><div>To help pass time I started reading aloud to Darren while he drove. This helped keep both of us awake and being the book was really good helped a lot too. I read an old Matt Helm book to him. The Menacers, by Donald Hamilton was what it was called and it was from the 1960's era. This book is one of a series and all about a U.S. secret agent. Very realistic, very fascinating. I gave the characters voices and expressions. I paused when there needed to be a pause, I gave as much life to the words as I could to make it as interesting for him and for me as possible. This made it a lot of fun. I tried to read facts about the towns we were driving past such as population statistics, historical events, dates, etc. But he found that kind of information very boring. </div><div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgIG-U6RxgGA7mmDADYwSLv2U0V8VuvQlvryX4e9oNk8UWhtbKMw5V6XgeQEM3Cky2kSNQH6L-vTy4iQhIYFStQI5IGfdDe0FAAmcLzPpbJ9FS1rRbuPVfLeaFF5rDwRKbCr6QUW29iqM/s400/IMG_6966.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367807306643491282" /></div><div>Speaking of statistics, here are some that I found very interesting about Watson Lake, Yukon Territory courtesy of the Milepost Magazine (aka Bible to Driving the Alaska Highway):</div><div><br /></div><div>Watson Lake: </div><div><br /></div><div>Population: 1,563</div><div>Elevation: 2,265 feet</div><div>Climate: Average Temperature in January is -16 F (-27 Centigrade), in July 59 F (15 C)</div><div>In January 1947 the record LOW was -70 F (-59 C)!! NEGATIVE 70! I get cold just thinking about it.</div><div>In June 1950 the record high was 93 degrees F (34 C).</div><div>Annual Snow fall is 90.6 inches</div><div>Average date of last spring frost is June 2</div><div>Average date of first fall frost is Sept. 14</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDXjWO5YZ3_OEhL70frb3NXoZ3hpox4U2EZ-GdTtO-85KXhAUpafYu_lWVr1ecl8NXhJq1BUiEpBOOP9Unj-2Ci1UHKcgQ_RrtfYZAChGc8quIy9oq2FvFi-L-qWOwkI7g_O9M9AH17cA/s400/IMG_6962.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367807297892500210" /><div><br /></div><div>Watson Lake is also the home of the famous Sign Forest where there are more than 60,000 signs. We didn't stop. Darren said it was silly... kind of like going to see the largest ball of yarn. I disagreed. haha We refueled in Watson Lake for some ridiculous amount of money and continued on. Our goal was to get to Port Alcan, also known as the border back into the U.S.</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ8X8h5kxV6EeOJQfpcbG19l3-UwHxt8QweMJ-VrBP5KIklOEJUz2_KPMKjvdCV9J4msGXUWpvJFfyeOS00Un9t0xqy4Gcf5n8fEnbnrtWfxTvFz1Z5H0UhSx9b2TFEB6IR5fG74eeFoQ/s400/IMG_6975.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367806070190257426" /><div><br /></div><div>We passed through a beautiful little town called Teslin. The bridge was one of the prettiest bridges to cross so I took some pictures. </div><div><br /></div><div>After Teslin, as the scenery began to get more exciting we were headed for Whitehorse. I still hadn't had any cell phone service and I hadn't spoken to my parents in over a day. I was hoping they weren't beginning to think we'd gotten eaten by a bear or stranded, or both so I was anxious to let them know I was okay. The population in Whitehorse is over 24,000 so I figured I could call my parents from there. Whitehorse was another 5 hours from Watson Lake. </div><div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglAVG3J2oNKXynCLT5qXPtgANdwz5sZeGerye82mByQidP2_IaKry8CLX7QmFUB8JV5kxmnhsOx6Nk08hXGqCW5AyTFuiFKlNSsktEgWRW2F4NHAFzG_HUgkvYbQbbSUIsg9uFkgFN1mY/s400/IMG_6974.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367806063699787362" /></div><div>Whitehorse was an interesting town. You had to actually drive down a couple miles off of the Alaska Highway to reach the town. It seemed to be quite a large city with quite a bit of traffic. But.... no cell phone service. So I used a pay phone to make my call. $8.50 to make one long distance call from a pay phone for a couple minutes. Ouch! Had I known that I would have service almost instantly once across the U.S. border, I would have waited. Live and learn. We fueled again in Whitehorse and charged forth for Port Alcan. </div><div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsHyjO4F6uWWb6TuIRuwOsJ5hEDy-12fUThIHUPQfHEjEmO_o3qKuCiosGW4mi0aieCYRpVY3VS2ZsnAmMEef7QVQiMFXax-gCSTU2KAkbYzDAq9CRYZMXrvpVEO1r-rIDaXnwaz3qZQE/s400/IMG_6976.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367806054200938066" /></div><div>Port Alcan was about another 6.5 hours drive, but there's no town at Port Alcan, just a border crossing. Tok, the first town once back in the U.S. was another 1.5 hours after that. </div><div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9M0loENsRq25gl0g-XBlwkvnNoahC6iTKnFJKxAG667jRYVxjX6d7DcI45c68dDO2rQmDMGfeu0fejfzKEu2lZgYsdIdrDStwWrHyODdPIrKBIG_3MYBoLC2FS7WoXPUrOBdx5pL5gRQ/s400/IMG_6987.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367804777281636466" /></div><div>The section of road past the Canada border station but before the U.S. border station was the worst section of road ever. It seemed like neither country wanted to claim that section of road and therefore did nothing to it. The road was really bumpy. Not pothole bumpy really but it was like the land under the asphalt had rolled, heaved, thawed and defrosted and this just demolished the once smooth asphalt. There were no lines to follow, no signs except for the one that said 100 km/hr but there was no way you could travel at 100 km/hr. By this time it was dark outside and with the road in such awful shape, 60 km/hr was about as fast as one could go on that messed up road. </div><div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNJbEftxI0vetqyl7-N79HEBV-rwDfWv_SiY4S0CKc9mHZkvm5l-YWQQHDHGsc8uFc9dd0CgWfKbuBEv-DDCl_oHrkDLmLRqUtSp4V53ejZ3UK6s8iDB_TolL9oya4FOycoR9zkYALiJA/s400/IMG_6989.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367804287747768370" /></div><div>When rolled up at about 2 a.m. to Port Alcan. We were stopped at the red light they had out front and waited. The lights came on in the station and you could see a couple of border patrol agents moving around. I wondered if they had been sleeping and I hoped they wouldn't take their lack of sleep out on us. After a few minutes our light turned green and we slowly pulled up to the agent. As we rolled up we could hear something rolling around in our front hubcap. The agent heard it too and commented, "Sounds like you got a rock in there." We handed him our passports, he asked some of the same questions as the Canadian agent had asked. He informed us that the gas stations in Tok were closed until morning. He went inside to scan our passports and while he was doing that, Darren jumped out to pop the hubcap off to see what the noise was all about. Apparently we had cracked and broken one of the lug bolts. Thank goodness the wheels had five so we still had another four to hold the wheel on. The agent came back out and gave us our passports back and we continued on. </div><div><br /></div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbNXQSZ7sijQeSEXvS2jba_RCDay4iaURvEJ1g4Icc2gJeRbiw8kXFG8CblokMsv1jDmRzFZCkL11bDad_vu9DazWnJm259HMskxMBExNtkEcG5dZetjiRq9Hu6Ip9OQfhwC2DHqc9-cc/s400/IMG_6994.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367804282141943954" /><div>By this time we were really tired. Darren had been driving for the past 4 or so hours and I was way too tired to take over so we drove for about 20 miles and found a quiet spot to pull off and sleep. We were finally back in the United States. Not to knock Canada really, but it was just nice to see speed limit signs that we fully understood and it was amazing how much nicer the pavement was and how bright the lines were. It just felt good. </div><div><br /></div><div>We let Kenai out to run around, fed her and then snuggled up in our blankets in the truck and fell asleep. The next day was Sunday and we had to be to Anchorage that Sunday night to pick up the family. So far we were making good time. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks for reading as always.</div><div><br /></div><div>Hailey Rose</div><div>P.S. Don't forget to come visit my shop. <a href="www.impulseART.etsy.com">www.impulseART.etsy.com</a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> </div>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-81379222776558128992009-08-06T21:59:00.000-07:002009-08-06T23:40:22.921-07:00Into the WildernessThe first major city we blew through was Calgary Alberta. From our home in Utah to Calgary<img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWVQNvDSrkmwlUg3CIGXVzGYObyQB6GtFQhbYlPJoZtcPF2H3gJYmU9gszSRM4qTkHEjR_CHoWyhhXugVMbgB-1BPYC47irA2icCvq-MAs511tPIvNYr-mUcb-zZGMk15AbvozR_0fH9Y/s400/IMG_6899.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367086652789322514" /> was a 15 hour drive. I find this to be really close actually. Darren and I drive regularly down toCalifornia which is a 10-12 hour drive depending on city traffic so another 3 hours and I can be in the beautiful city of Calgary.<div><br /></div><div>Darren continued on through Edmonton, Whitecourt and then finally to Grand Prairie. By this time the scenery had slightly changed. The mountains were growing. The wide open fields had long since past. Pine trees had multiplied by the millions and we were finally beginning to feel</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO-sadufhOM74NjRvWLdT87TQHiAByNfYZJx16-RC-5wVf_7VuEXWL-uHvTq_Mobt2iC4FltHCFtOL-9YxeRjHHsKyjTIRXR_IPs3Lp5WfpnEZ-dHynEnMJcXhzNq79qIHULSQX6XMrFE/s400/IMG_6930.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367105573055154738" /><div> like we were headed into the wilderness.By the time we reached Grand Prairie<div> it was dark and this was the last semi</div><div>main city in Alberta Territory. Already, the daylight had been extended dramatically compared to Utah. By the time it had gotten dark, it was near midnight. We hadn't eaten much for the past 24 hours. We</div><div> made up some of our freeze dried meals such as "bacon with</div><div> blueberry pancakes" and then later "vegetarian</div><div> lasagna" and some sort of disastrous supposed BBQ ... stuff! We were in the desperate mood for something that had a little more substance. With a</div><div> little research with the</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYc-xgIvtYjQbdULgq-vyTcCMDiOG7GhwCZ1JudDxyMW19Mog4gaeLs6rMZo3ejGXhlpNcV7M52z5GoDu3vUe1_DPYOuR8awTZCHa80j1zqqk0OrtgVz8NqbI7v75qJLJR5cERBzvgOEw/s400/IMG_6915.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367086669355580178" /><div> iPhone, I discovered that there was a last chance Wendy's opportunity and we jumped on it. </div><div><br /></div><div>With fingers crossed that they had the same hours as many of the American</div><div> Wendy's, we pulled up to the menu. A friendly voice met us. After a bit of confusion on the order, we finally got it in. At the window we were welcomed with a smiling Asian man.</div><div> We had to wait a bit for some of our order and the smiling Asian man noticed the map in our car and started up a conversation. He asked us, "You not from here?!?..." He could see our confused expressions I suppose and he said, "Map." He asked where we were from and I said, "Utah....." I could see his confused expression and I followed up with ...."uhh, United States." He then understood...and said, "You from Texas!" It was instantly clear that he was not familiar with the layout of our States here at home. We smiled and said... "well, close to Texas." We knew his next question. Smiling Asian Wendy's Man asks, "Where are you going? You stay here tonight?" motioning to the hotels down the road. We told him, "We are going to Alaska." Clearly he knew where that state was and with a shocked look on his face he replied, "You go tomorrow to Alaska?" And we said, "No, we driving tonight to Alaska." He got this terrified look on his face and said, "You drive tonight? .... to Alaska? It's</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik6FS8wlHG6mSXtxvV1jwTGmbKO5D7FCLATglgiSN8QexDYEkG8RJuAgJiZLwRkJA4yDTAO-kZIadzqCV7nEM6sLahkZnd5eq6M_jfK8na6hmpPzlTePBUWLt6SkqEhxjizb78hxCebb4/s400/IMG_6941.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367105584083974370" /><div> dark!" We nodded and agreed but told him we weren't staying the night and we were heading out after he gave us our food. By this time there was another smiling Asian at the window, this time a woman and another woman in the back smiling and listening in while making the final preparations to our large order. They asked us again as if in shock if we were really driving on. Finally the Asian man said with utter sincerity, "But it's dark and it scary to drive." You had to be there. It was just hilarious. He was genuinely scared of the thought of driving into the wilderness in pure darkness. Finally our food was ready. The friendly Asian Wendy's people waved us goodbye and we were on the road</div><div> again. The next town to fly through was Dawson Creek. </div><div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb9hto_nr3zwWoX45Oe-Nh3HVsJD0opmca36bhDVtQEUsnmlxwXwAsk3xeBHN9tpvISqtJEJkpoQoevpVALPWyyUpXj_am9w0Sy8lxU4UpaGGcW5RRpLMzMwcUEtZ4bvFAoc3TnNOSc3g/s400/IMG_6924.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367105569553774146" /></div><div>It was my turn to drive so Darren could get some sleep on a full belly. I blew through Dawson Creek and pushed on for Fort Nelson. It felt like forever.... F OO RRRR E E EHHVVV E E E ERRRRR. It was eerie driving in the dark. Even though it was only dark for a few hours....you just know there are moose and bear along the roads and they may jump out at anytime and by the time you see it...it'll be too late to stop. You will have three choices. A) Hit it. A bear would be like plowing into a large hog, full of muscle, low to the ground and will really mess up the front end. And a moose..., well they are as tall as the truck and would likely come right through</div><div> the windshield and be fighting, kicking all of it's thousands of pounds on our laps. B) Fly off the road and hope the damage is less or C) Have some major luck on your side and pull of some sort of special-ops tactical driving skills. Luckily, we didn't have to deal with any of those scenarios. My eyes scanned constantly, looking for a glimmer of an eyeball, a shadow along the side, movement of any sort. </div><div><br /></div><div>I finally got tired and pulled over and Darren took over yet again after a few hours of sleep. We had a deadline to meet. We had to be to Anchorage by Sunday to pick up some of my family and we were determined to make it there on time to get them.</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi18fKoHfnPovWqK9r39rHzOMYUcykV4XTM2T1YYZlujmrNhqaPFM3AzcDG1qB94oiam6Tu0pCD5DlAlnPcnqODOyc0bo8W8kRi7b4RYkibJmBaiE0_V3m0mAEiPAi0P7irKXM3E157nMc/s400/IMG_6914.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367086656850871282" /><div><br /></div><div>We rolled through some construction areas along the way. The Canadian Construction people held funny little stop signs in these construction zones. In the western part of America where we are from our construction people use large signs on long poles that they flip back and forth with little effort but these signs were small with a little, perhaps 12 inch, handle to hold onto. It looked like an arm cramp to me. The other thing we noticed was the limited gap of slowdown</div><div> time between speed limits. Scenario: You're driving down the interstate at 100 km/hr. You see a sign that says 60 km/hr with a little arrow pointing ahead and before you can touch the</div><div> brake...BAM! You're already in the 60 km/hr zone! And within seconds there's another sign slowing you down to 30 km/hr. This was a regular thing throughout Canada. Maybe this is fine for the Canadians, but it took some adjusting to. Most of the towns we drove through were empty. Abandoned looking. So it seemed totally pointless to slow down when nobody was there. Good thing we put new brakes on the truck before we left. </div><div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidLq4R0mGcAemGtWa09dfC-qsUfEHXt7M2IkXGBLnDLRjVz_07H9bczmvXzNlph3DnDthQ2CIpppT0RuA5Fiho9_ICjjw9AWXOW8EyLsMN_ELSMbCxmQ92brRjK53gpmoC6gOZBv_lbbs/s400/IMG_6921.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367105562518527826" /></div><div>We made a few stops along the way, usually in more secluded spots where Kenai could run around like a mad dog stretching her legs and looking for mischief. She loved the rivers that we stopped along. I'm sure that mountain water tasted good! </div><div><br /></div><div>As our journey continued into the next morning, I noticed we hadn't had cell phone service since Dawson Creek. I knew my parents would begin to worry if they didn't hear from me once a day so each town I continued to check for service. Cars and people were getting further and further apart. When we looked at the map, the void between towns had grown significantly. We knew we were going to have to gauge our mileage and gas carefully. We had packed 7 gallons of gas to spare for that "just in case" moment.</div><div><br /></div><div>We finally got to Fort Nelson. We fueled, and that was about it and we continued on. The next</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtq5qCHLyIog8WLsUCqUQUi55KqIwaD_mYt5iwMKwaIM-GGNd9oA6MVqCSJgPwphUnkMEmyR9kZX41m8SX4Y4fVmhcKemI6Yoecv7LUPiMjsWsJQlu8ZPVN_qd4zQU3nf3bLv7wxqYh6o/s400/IMG_6916.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367105553844517778" /><div> town to get to was Watson Lake. Another vast distance of even more millions of trees, miles, pavement, rivers, ghost towns and emptiness awaited us. Each ghost town we passed, was like seeing someone's dream gone to dust. Someone's hard work, fantasy, money, life was tried and had failed. While going by, at 30 km/hr, I could see the many campers, RV's, and vehicles in a</div><div> ghost like form. Like how you see on TV when the movie star is visualizing the past, floating people all about in a hazy form, children laughing or maybe even a shrilling scream. </div><div>Depends which movie you're thinking about. As we went by, I hoped that one day these boarded up, lost dreams would come to life again as someone else's more successful reality. </div><div><br /></div><div>Watson Lake was a long ways away, full steam ahead.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks for reading,</div><div><br /></div><div>Hailey Rose </div><div><div><br /></div></div></div>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-62148549964345854052009-08-05T10:52:00.000-07:002009-08-05T12:04:54.126-07:00New Tires Hit the Pavement<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Z5dwdApvn8nfj4HIO_fbbjMV5EwnSjiqlbFbTCD1ZaPuXlXm9e_DDj7l0qPCZrvkKqLbs1fHgGfkKDcMiD6MZ-I0iAZ53t3bzTNnKdZoTSsnzWDZzRgR4-RwqHiaZ4GyhGikH68BUHo/s400/IMG_6861.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366544042161366722" /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Z5dwdApvn8nfj4HIO_fbbjMV5EwnSjiqlbFbTCD1ZaPuXlXm9e_DDj7l0qPCZrvkKqLbs1fHgGfkKDcMiD6MZ-I0iAZ53t3bzTNnKdZoTSsnzWDZzRgR4-RwqHiaZ4GyhGikH68BUHo/s1600-h/IMG_6861.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The day before we left was a hectic day.</span></span></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Z5dwdApvn8nfj4HIO_fbbjMV5EwnSjiqlbFbTCD1ZaPuXlXm9e_DDj7l0qPCZrvkKqLbs1fHgGfkKDcMiD6MZ-I0iAZ53t3bzTNnKdZoTSsnzWDZzRgR4-RwqHiaZ4GyhGikH68BUHo/s1600-h/IMG_6861.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Darren was at work, I was getting new tires on the truck. The oil had been changed, fluids checked. We found a truck shell last minute, took Kenai in to get her Health Certificate (that nobody cared to see, $70 later), bought ice, got groceries... etc.</span></span></span></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Darren got off work late that day, of course. Of all days to get off late...it's the day we are leaving. To make matters more chaotic, our German Shepherd got suddenly sick and decided she was to leave this world so before we could go, we had to respectfully lay our sweet Sage to rest. RIP Sweet Sage! </span></span></span></div><div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 233px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHwylI2jYvnFBe4OmMEhE4Ikia_21w_BNvp_fWF4Y0_nPZIrzwkXd1qGD-eviS1X4sEBHP7CnUS1V1FFbyRQvf7DYNqhCJKwcojOXJWlcMtg79ub3quj3IKIX0-aC3jubC9f8XcpOgGaQ/s400/IMG_6863.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366544057673391650" /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">We had planned to be on the road by 5 p.m. but ... we didn't hit the road until about 10:00 p.m. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">We drove and drove until we couldn't drive anymore. Darren found a great</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> little spot just south of Butte Montana for us to catch a few hours of sleep in the cab of the truck. It had been warm we didn't think to pull the sleeping bags out...but we FROZE our butts off. Montana is COLD, (least where we were) even in the summer! So, FYI, a fleece blanket and being fully</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> clothed is not enough to stay warm on a summer night in your truck in Montana.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The morning sunrise was beautiful.</span></span></span></div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhWJzLEVBiYnlPMZkCqRmqduoXuOwzNJbStusDxtbSNBNqt3iAQ8Ke4xNSFu163s1_fIy8mP5Mrfun05LxoOiVLuXUs0ohzjhVf84jGvsueo1AMQ_UDnK3SpAkfEesQHnSsE6Fn6rk6qA/s400/IMG_6850.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366551662565265138" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> Montana in general along the I-15 was beautiful. We crossed into Canada pretty fast after leaving Butte. The Canadian Border guy was a good looking blonde hair blue eyed man in a uniform sitting in a little booth. He smiled and started firing away questions... </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The good looking border guy asks, "Passports?" I handed him our passports, he quickly looks at them and scans them into his machine. "Where are you headed?" my mind calculates...where? well, when tonight? tomorrow? in 2 days? ...</span></span></span></div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-SkA_7bkjVJAvfjqZt1tw0rPspTlF5k-jejtPLVuVea0j8OjJ5hIQ3ewfwfI0NgWUm8RWjlADOJyFGwOJ8WXezTE5TsaHBN2uQZYxfdjkbpDUBzkayZqLvnUauRNiTdTJLKuYDm99Ilo/s400/IMG_6886.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366551665650989602" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> "uhh..Alaska" I answer. "Where are you coming from?" Again...it's such an open question with so many answers but I think I know the answer, "Utah." He asked us a variety of questions "How long are you going to be in Canada?" etc. .... Finally he handed us back our passports and said, "Have a nice trip." Perhaps the answers are clear to some people, but I analyze every word in a question....and think of all the plausible answers and try to figure which answer is the best one. Darren says I totally over think things.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">"OH CANADA....." and we were driving through Alberta. The scenery was plain and wide open much like how northern Montana had looked. For some reason I had though it was going to look different. Like as though the second you cross the border into another country it would be different...but with a little more thought I decided my ideas were a little far fetched and illogical geographically speaking. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The first sign we took note of was the one that said 100 km/hr ... double check your speedometer my friends. That's not MPH. 100 km/hr is equivalent to about 60 mph which was what the speed was through most of Canada. The next issue was gas for the truck. At a quick glance one from America may jump for joy at the sight of $1.00 on a gas station sign but a closer look shows this is per liter, not per gallon. The U.S. dollar by this point had softened or the Canadian Dollar was stronger, which ever way you want to look at the spectrum of things so it worked out to be almost 1:1 ratio on exchange rate. In the end, we were paying about $4.00/gallon for gas through Canada. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">So far we hadn't seen much for wildlife. We hadn't gotten very far yet, and it was still pretty civilized feeling but that was going to change soon. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">More tomorrow.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Thanks for reading.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Hailey Rose</span></span></span></div>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-80934463510652217102009-08-04T20:29:00.001-07:002009-08-04T20:51:37.291-07:00Where has Hailey been?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdpVd6HxtiFTOfx8wWlyPGxzAZv2O1oTiBoxYnWUdNJyHZ0TPBXx_IK95vAd47iWvpOORZJHsb2xUATnwPuUQY0G9mXsNtH6jat8zU3uy4mYdRKgw6fvFgtEKVf6G38sfHnPHDDZYfb-o/s1600-h/IMG_6848.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 373px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdpVd6HxtiFTOfx8wWlyPGxzAZv2O1oTiBoxYnWUdNJyHZ0TPBXx_IK95vAd47iWvpOORZJHsb2xUATnwPuUQY0G9mXsNtH6jat8zU3uy4mYdRKgw6fvFgtEKVf6G38sfHnPHDDZYfb-o/s400/IMG_6848.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366321941297800898" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;">Dear Friends,</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;">I know it's been several weeks...ok, like a month since I blogged but I have a really good reason. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;">Early July my darling fiance and I left town to go on a great expedition, a great adventure for 3 weeks. We had been planning this trip since last fall. Our list of things to buy so to be ready began months ago. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;">Cool Backpacks ......... check!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;">First Aid Kits for each bag ......... check!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;">-40 Sleeping bags (a bit excessive for summer but who knows where we may go) ........ check!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;">Magnesium Stick for making those fires ............. check!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;">Emergency Blankets ..... check!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;">Flashlights ...... check!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;">Dried Food .... check!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;">90 seconds to boil water expensive thing that's really cool ......... check!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;">Water purifier ....... check!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;">....well, you get the idea.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;">Fortunately we didn't need to use much of any of this stuff... but we were ready for just about anything. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;">Okay, are you dying to know where we went now? We started here in beautiful Utah and drove to </span></span><a href="http://www.akms.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;">Homer Alaska</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;">. 62 hours of nearly straight driving, a few "space food" meals .... a few bathroom breaks, a couple little naps, way too many sunflower seeds and potato chips, and lots of fantastic scenery later.... we were in Homer Alaska. The journey had only begun.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;">Over the next few days, I will be write a blog daily about our adventures, experiences along with pictures from our adventure. I hope you enjoy this and my future blogs.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;">Thanks for reading...</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;"><b>hailey rose</b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', fantasy;color:#330033;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', fantasy;color:#330033;">... check my <a href="http://www.impulseART.etsy.com">store</a>, I have a couple photos listed in my shop from my trip!</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-15319006853831577082009-07-01T10:27:00.001-07:002009-07-01T10:41:09.052-07:00I just keep having more and more fun!<div style="text-align: center;">I'm happy, most happy when I can just be home puttering about with my paint and my house. This past week I received my first customized painting order. It was fabulously flattering that someone chose me out of all the many artists to create something for her little girls room. We had so much fun talking about life, trips, goals, and coming up with ideas. I started out with making little birdhouse dummies out of paper then I painted what we agreed on. My darling Darren made the tall birdhouse by hand, he's so talented. Here are some pictures:</div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF7gzt1Odim3nMP4o6lynVGhcBSNPZ_uwJKEMDJb3L22pSg2yQeMQdsDybTgJ3oYnRy1OfdA8S9gEh-GvPY7D2VC0nTgUgooo1S7ap-HbsssGCEDASVTxIA62QyNWeM8lxPPPMBwm60FA/s320/IMG_6705.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353545864815677218" /><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-CumgOkmp22YSrciOsHN75isVvlzPBuN-9-BZnWyWg4kW1mLKSPjynFu64Zywd1MSOYJ4Lx1j91dqh0qm1Oo8RnpkAGy4k4FtUIbWpNhm-6-_a9X8G0a1g9-C0OzrfqQgLtS8JRY3Rcc/s320/IMG_6794.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353546926022259442" /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 309px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEDyALCfPZFCYxe9eoR74yYhUvuplw6Zzsc-VJLRE8P9GUhfttK1cpNfBgZHYzNR59czbpBg1yErg8C22FgwG6E4b9RJC7TQ-fBKGImFlte1jdoiKayPZh-lwqptKHOBnbaUXIEC862XY/s320/IMG_6796.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353546917128853522" /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 293px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7tpCuFXBsS7XCaqtx8G9Db2mHcfHs8lSQYIygyBrL6e5Fr1TIvu14o5mk2MqS8c2pJIdtnYmpWDG3t_PQNEXtSWSfx1agsuz7lk6lcZ5MdJATqG0kTDcO8oSQqEVnyadXFZpHr9RiTSE/s320/IMG_6792.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353546914027623634" /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: left;">Turned out I spent WAY more time on them than I had anticipated but I am extremely pleased as is the buyer on how well they turned out. Thank you Miss Lori for your support. And thank you to all those who read my blog.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Hailey Rose</div><div style="text-align: left;">xxxx</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-11576988833737901092009-07-01T09:32:00.000-07:002009-07-01T10:08:22.090-07:00The things a 16 year old thinks of...<div style="text-align: center;">I found this so hilarious... so I thought I'd share.</div><div><br /></div><div>My little sister was at my house yesterday... and got the wild idea to write little messages all on little Post It notes and stick them all over my office...my house... even the bathroom. Some of the messages were very creative...others more generic. But here's the one that I "Laughed Out Loud" at. Just thought I'd share. Hope it makes you smile.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKKrT9ZiI5yKl3-mlXTiy3dpvK_weAreGQR_9wnVaRW5rtUYxYWYbmoLq13xohWL1HnS3-OWE73c-TM8GbynLAsSikcLlXNSfB6lGHhmjjdPKJIPs7dOCoJSi0hnjSibaX6p3YJ4O2kx0/s320/IMG_6807.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353531611441811474" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">(...it should say Mr. Elk... but according to her, it's the same thing)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Hailey</div><div style="text-align: center;">xxxx</div>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-53259328877676796302009-06-22T10:57:00.000-07:002009-06-22T11:20:25.836-07:00Vintage is Home<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=24900697"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2zQ2qq70PT7W9WaQOHR07H59c6Z5lKT7Hu9Py6dLBr8jk2jFHC12thwTM5zj5yiM5RVsveup95kXmHpK-0tSEoGn9evHTHeq3mXLdj5AeRADdzGNAY0GqOpzQw3rZjvaPF2XeKelkNzA/s320/IMG_5678.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350215147337808418" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=24900697"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">(Vintage Milk Glass Vases)</span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">I love all the new home decor designs that continue to come out, but...my heart is in vintage items. I love to look, hold, own an item that has a long past. It doesn't matter if I actually "know" the story but to think this precious item has been around for 10 years, 20 years, 50 years, 100 years, 150 years and to think of each era, where it may have been in someone's home makes for great day dreaming.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=24899532"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 234px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizvXR5R99gvDTq_2-_UzcxHKMiUTflU0hDZydz8i7SQ1diBmFfSQTfY2ND1cappvNCGNpuj-XZ7NwibMAbeetF_51BdigVp1pKs9m5mip_j6XMCziONNGDhqwq7h8JKMn9C1lBnFP_nT0/s320/IMG_5691.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350215152810182850" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=24899532"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">(Vintage Glass Vases)</span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Here are some fantastic finds that I have available in my </span><a href="http://www.impulseART.etsy.com"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Etsy Shop</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">. I'm fine if they stay in my home, but they are available to add or begin your collection of vintage. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=26681231"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2a50NXGmFH7Symn8cXbWQVwoCwYcx7_cVgkd7Eqe8IHL6fQc1vAswG47Vw9E3Iw75sW0dOdvuPGCT9qfAH3kIEVQ2eK3D-gg1z-pyTGQCN5AiFZCX5xlFwo8QmbBuK6JKzBy-DxM085E/s320/IMG_6567.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350215140060147698" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=26681231"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">(Vintage Salt and Pepper Shakers)</span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Hailey Rose</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">xxxx</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div> </div></div>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-90956722112978518102009-06-18T13:34:00.000-07:002009-06-18T13:39:20.726-07:00What is "Upcycle?"<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">"Upcycle" (for those of you who do not know wikipedia says) </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; font-size:13px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Upcycling</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">is a component of sustainability in which </span></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waste" title="Waste" style="text-decoration: none; background-image: none; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: initial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">waste</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> materials are used to provide new </span></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Products" title="Products" class="mw-redirect" style="text-decoration: none; background-image: none; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: initial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">products</span></span></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">. It is generally a reinvestment in the environment. "Upcycling is the practice of taking something that is disposable and transforming it into something of greater use and value."</span></span><sup class="noprint Template-Fact" title="This claim needs references to reliable sources from June 2007" style="line-height: 1em; white-space: nowrap; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">[</span></span><i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:Citation_needed" title="Wikipedia:Citation needed" style="text-decoration: none; background-image: none; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: initial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">citation needed</span></span></a></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">]</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> This process allows for the reduction of waste and virgin material use.</span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; font-family:sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><p style="margin-top: 0.4em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The term upcycling was coined by </span></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_McDonough" title="William McDonough" style="text-decoration: none; background-image: none; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: initial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">William McDonough</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> and</span></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Braungart" title="Michael Braungart" style="text-decoration: none; background-image: none; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: initial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Michael Braungart</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">, authors of</span></span><i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cradle_to_Cradle:_Remaking_the_Way_We_Make_Things" title="Cradle to Cradle: Remaking the Way We Make Things" style="text-decoration: none; background-image: none; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: initial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Cradle to Cradle: Remaking the Way We Make Things</span></span></a></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0.4em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; font-size:16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">I enjoy upcycling. I love to take something that someone else no longer wants and put my bit of artistic twist on it. Here's something that I recently put my "twist" on:</span></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0.4em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:16px;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2lYOL4hOQs4moZw6CDuIzZArW1REBdA1ftTZ7EbpBdzWn1AyANyU_3vjsuEAju8SUk5UH_chLo8_kUR6oLvHzc_T0Sa1qPqTZsHlClufRB6BwYqMiPfxAaEa_9bKzhyphenhyphenx1eirvlcEymws/s320/IMG_6556.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348767738325675666" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 263px; " /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0.4em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; font-size:16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">I picked up this frame, it was ugly, but I could see through the ugly dark red and black tones to something of beauty. I pulled off the old yucky tape, took out the lame poem, sanded it a bit, painted it white, added some flexible points on the back to keep the picture in, added a couple sawtooth hangers, cleaned it up real pretty and then I put one of my original paintings in it.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0.4em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">This darling upcycled wall art is available in my </span><a href="http://www.impulseART.etsy.com"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Etsy store</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"> as of right now.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0.4em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Come see my other upcycled items as well as my photographs, paintings and other items.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0.4em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0.4em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Thanks for reading.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0.4em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0.4em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Hailey Rose</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0.4em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">xxxx</span></span></p></span></div>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-79202847037787616882009-06-16T09:12:00.000-07:002009-06-16T09:37:56.065-07:00Etsy Front Page and new items<div style="text-align: center;">Hooray!</div><div style="text-align: center;">Last night another one of my items made Front Page. <a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?ref=sr_list_3&listing_id=23951503&ga_search_query=tulip&ga_search_type=user_shop_ttt_id_6977735">The Forsaken Tulip in 5" x 7"</a> was the lucky winner. I received about 150 views from it's time on Front Page. That's twice this June I have hit front page. It made my night.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhglU_rQnfO5qOoLym_EWYpo3mkzUZGhh6IjnUWm0FFsvoLTF4-o60ITgodd8qvUR34aWpm-U8-IkO2OtqP3UDehUQ9G7I2WJS6nN8hyIW5ntUYgcCP58OFTj4lbRAz6nJJ1DdTOpK-Qi4/s320/5500.5x7.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347964512777354578" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Thanks for reading.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Hailey Rose</div></div>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-43413213187720465222009-06-12T10:32:00.001-07:002009-06-12T11:33:59.280-07:00The Cottage Collection<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">I love shabby little cottages. I fancy mine as one. Cottages have charm, clutter, yet organized. You usually find things with chippy white paint, scrolly letters, old things, dark woods here and there, lots of white, flowers, gardens, and feeling of quiet serenity. Here are some of my pieces of art that I have made and/or painted that I consider to be part of my "Cottage Collection"</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=26373108"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 640px; height: 427px;" src="http://ny-image3.etsy.com/il_fullxfull.75167659.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=26373108">Hailey's Cottage Rose Coasters</a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">Each coaster is a slice of Siberian Elm tree. The wood was then lightly sanded, varnished, painted and varnished again for protection. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">.....~~~~~.....</span></div><br /><center><a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=26344412"><img src="http://ny-image3.etsy.com/il_fullxfull.75071759.jpg" /></a></center><center><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=26344412">Hailey's Cottage Clothespins</a></span></center><center><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">These clothespins are great for pinning up artwork, pictures, clothes, curtains, etc. I use them in my house all the time. I pin up my jewelry with them too. It's surprising how much I use them. Each clothespin is painted a nice base coat color and then I paint little roses on each of them. These one's pictured above have vinery as well. Something that I don't always add. These and other colors available in my <a href="http://www.impulseART.etsy.com/">Etsy Store</a>. Custom orders welcome.</span></center><center><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">.....~~~~~.....</span></center><center><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"><br /><a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=24295986"><img src="http://ny-image2.etsy.com/il_fullxfull.68197874.jpg" /></a><br /></span></center><center><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=24295986">The Cottage Sign</a></span></center><center><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">The Cottage sign brings all the parts of Cottage Style to you. You can see the pink paint peeking out underneath the chippy cream paint, the words "the Cottage" have been carefully painted, followed by a couple of cottage rose decals then topped with a protective varnish. All of this loveliness done on a piece of antique barn wood. </span></center><center><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"><br /><a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=25118388"><img src="http://ny-image2.etsy.com/il_fullxfull.70962098.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=25196087"><img src="http://ny-image0.etsy.com/il_fullxfull.71223908.jpg" /></a><br /><br /></span></center><center><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">Every Cottage needs birdhouses. Come see my <a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=25118388">For the Birds </a>birdhouse and my <a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=25196087">Chic Cottage</a> birdhouse. Both hand painted by me. </span></center><center><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"><br /></span></center><center><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">There's more cottage collection items in my <a href="http://www.impulseART.etsy.com">Etsy Store</a>. Please come visit my shop.</span></center><center><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"><br /></span></center><center><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">Thanks for reading.</span></center><center><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"><br /></span></center><center><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">Hailey Rose</span></center><center><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">xxxx</span></center><center><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"><br /></span></center><center><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"><br /></span></center>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-57230267740294749942009-06-11T14:34:00.000-07:002009-06-11T15:19:28.486-07:00So how did it go?<img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRqGT-RuTGJbesxyKHrCQg7kYZ_B0Xg0HKL8QB8gx8j2v-hqaCglxln5u9e83QY30EdLkzwjcIvaGED2RdZ9hgz_2-m5KAUU0Hy5TxcK3VSH3j2FinVJ21hrQ93NJozoSKgWmIjOtyEfM/s400/IMG_6366.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346196748166411522" /><br />As many of you know, I got to experience my first ever art show this past weekend (June 4, 5 and 6). And many of you have asked, "How did it go?" In a word.....good. Not great, not amazing, not horrible, just good. I did not come home with wads of cash, I did not sell everything I took with me, and there was no way 20,000 people there (as had been advertised). It was an emotional roller coaster and I learned I'd put way too much stress on myself before the show. <div><br /></div><div>The good: I sold some stuff, met lots of nice people. Got to see lots of other peoples art and enjoyed some delicious homemade donuts. One of my neighbors turned out to be really awesome. Her name is Kim and she makes stuff out of clay. Here's her shop: <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=5127772">ClaybyKim</a></div><div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn5aZVP4sWUXJevLFvx3a8S1_dDoDcaKAYmIj05gGLn3b_cGrvmVzeFM5R3VC7Ygc4LHk4sFNiFX_x96r_ciIK5ZNFIz6cmNWsW6a_b4SGgWP69IDdFFg_bvKY6ROQC_MLFu9WbJ2Rwls/s1600-h/IMG_6369.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn5aZVP4sWUXJevLFvx3a8S1_dDoDcaKAYmIj05gGLn3b_cGrvmVzeFM5R3VC7Ygc4LHk4sFNiFX_x96r_ciIK5ZNFIz6cmNWsW6a_b4SGgWP69IDdFFg_bvKY6ROQC_MLFu9WbJ2Rwls/s400/IMG_6369.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346196751329432066" /></a><br /><br /></div><div>Turned out...Kim and I had a couple interesting things in common. 1- Artist ..gets more interesting, keep reading.. 2- her daughters name is Bailey (i'm Hailey) ... 3- her daughters middle name is Rose and so is mine. So we had Hailey Rose and Bailey Rose working right in side by side tents. and last but not least... 4- This one was the best...her husbands name is Darren, and my fiance's name is....you guessed it. Darren. How crazy huh? I wondered to myself if they were a reflection of Darren and I in 15 years. Anyway, they were super nice and very encouraging and motivating. So go say hi to Kim and the fam. <br /><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1UhDJtAsfCuYacA6ywTNM43bYUID0mteAv_NdNf9VHr8BDxVoBfm5h0s6JtHmT5OdLC5XudpNKPqhu26j2o9WsUMaFCIKNQnRWamqE8cIs0QbM7rghjafNysNHx2nhze-HV07PBEzKVQ/s1600-h/IMG_6355.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1UhDJtAsfCuYacA6ywTNM43bYUID0mteAv_NdNf9VHr8BDxVoBfm5h0s6JtHmT5OdLC5XudpNKPqhu26j2o9WsUMaFCIKNQnRWamqE8cIs0QbM7rghjafNysNHx2nhze-HV07PBEzKVQ/s400/IMG_6355.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346196754916276130" /></a><br /></div><div>The bad: The weather was HORRIBLE. I quickly learned that my pieces of work were very aerodynamic and flew well. (Thank you Kim's Darren for pointing that out) I had all these lovely little easels I had painted to hold pictures and those just enhanced the aerodynamic abilities of my photos. The wind was just awful, knocking everything over, coming in breezes and sudden gusts just killing my display every time. At first I wanted to just cry but by the end of it all it was more entertaining to see what sort of manner it all flew about each time. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then, the rain came...not just a drizzle, but pouring, sheeting, bucket fulls of rain plus thunder and lightening. I learned that standing water leaks through my tent...and it's important to use something to push the roof up to get it off. </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmGwZSD6x9u81Tn6GUOm8rOLiJ886U2GtfFR6bvo88Ou2t729knUlqNEjSpC2RzQQ4gun6-7KAobK-5G4CNU_v4Fex_XbvUPkmShKXEd5rKAaOAUzsFcvzpY9YCp09f7CChaT2xxXU7_s/s1600-h/IMG_6349.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmGwZSD6x9u81Tn6GUOm8rOLiJ886U2GtfFR6bvo88Ou2t729knUlqNEjSpC2RzQQ4gun6-7KAobK-5G4CNU_v4Fex_XbvUPkmShKXEd5rKAaOAUzsFcvzpY9YCp09f7CChaT2xxXU7_s/s400/IMG_6349.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346196044437799410" /></a><br /></div><div>Hope you enjoy the pictures. And thank you for all of your support and thank you to those of you who could and did come to see me. xxxx</div><div><br /></div><div>Hailey Rose</div></div>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-67662752787079798432009-06-07T13:58:00.000-07:002009-06-07T14:17:46.636-07:00Making Etsy Front Page<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh09ksq1URKYUDSs8ynQIr3bxuRi8F-_1ETT49L0e1f3XSzMIuQIieTFfuDJKrOMUaAw7aN2-ZHIFDB6_pzdw9_d2KT8rwUdAs-ERKGw7eykOa69opicLimPuTj66Ggk3JB-DFcsdCeOWU/s1600-h/1862.12x18.WM.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh09ksq1URKYUDSs8ynQIr3bxuRi8F-_1ETT49L0e1f3XSzMIuQIieTFfuDJKrOMUaAw7aN2-ZHIFDB6_pzdw9_d2KT8rwUdAs-ERKGw7eykOa69opicLimPuTj66Ggk3JB-DFcsdCeOWU/s400/1862.12x18.WM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344697681955161330" /></a><br />It's a great feeling when you get to be on the front page of Etsy. You work so hard on all your items, you put them together with thought and love and there are two great compliments. 1- someone actually buys your stuff to have in their home or give as a gift and 2- to make front page. <div><br /><div>And guess what.... Saturday I was on front page. It was very exciting. The item that made front page was His Hand. Within a matter of under an hour, His Hand got over 700 views. I received some kind emails from other Etsians that I've never known or talked to, lots of item and page hearts and even heard from some of my existing Etsy friends that were lucky enough to be on Etsy for that block of time to see His Hand on there. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thank you to those who have been so supportive. I love you all. </div><div><br /></div><div>Hailey Rose</div></div>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-59227475601235272212009-06-04T14:36:00.000-07:002009-06-04T14:47:19.361-07:00The Festival ScheduleHi Friends,<div><br /></div><div>I'm already tired and it's only 3:36 in the afternoon. Cait and I set our tent all up at the Riverton Arts Festival this afternoon. My tent is towards the South East of it all, one tent block east from the performance stage. I'm back home taking a break now though. We are right close to the stage, so we should have a great view of all the talented dancing, bands and orchestras that will be playing.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here is a pretty good idea of the schedule:</div><div><br /></div><div>June 4th - 7:30 p.m. Free Concert by the Riverton Metropolitan Orchestra</div><div>I will be there from 6 p.m. - 9:00 p.m. </div><div><br /></div><div>June 5th - Performances begin at 9 a.m. and go past 9:30 p.m. </div><div>I will be there from 9 a.m. - 9:30 p.m.</div><div><br /></div><div>June 6th - 5k run begins at 7:30 a.m. and performances begin at 10 a.m. </div><div>I will be there from 9 a.m. - 9 p.m.</div><div><br /></div><div>There are 50+ vendors there and some yummy looking food. Other vendors may have different times that they come in. So far I have spotted a couple jewelry artists, some sparkly kids flip flop sandal artist and the cutest birdhouses. </div><div><br /></div><div>See you there! I'll take lots of pictures so if you can't make it...you can at least see some of it. :) </div><div><br /></div><div>Hailey Rose</div><div>xxxx</div>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-81354374466505583842009-06-02T09:51:00.000-07:002009-06-02T10:02:49.297-07:00911.Life<img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTTMKgeposqZYkmU9KmSF9cdBlTpfkDAptuYK5jtCorERlbzTYM-t3QA1JwwYN5J550LK4at-1TU2FdgZYsi99wPkZ2_AIZ39iF_0aHXd7PmuSNIBKJQ0bfYUVyxZm5Cq4aKuWhLSiWRs/s400/IMG_5249.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342776504496336146" /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsWdyLbJ3EikJIs2lTrenvS1qpxWWQwzbL4S5XQNBg1NIV39cPQsMF7pyKAhIIltIoRsrSJKXvX8VjDHNe30oMgiudgfTG6O4GbVAsST0VSdpd5TEIEhS6nmFhyphenhyphenDnSgJqU1YlEb7wUNUs/s1600-h/IMG_6337.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsWdyLbJ3EikJIs2lTrenvS1qpxWWQwzbL4S5XQNBg1NIV39cPQsMF7pyKAhIIltIoRsrSJKXvX8VjDHNe30oMgiudgfTG6O4GbVAsST0VSdpd5TEIEhS6nmFhyphenhyphenDnSgJqU1YlEb7wUNUs/s400/IMG_6337.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342776505013132850" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcLOd5VW5c4ifynOrZYwQvQv0nb9ZqkSXehmB0JtwGNxC5-2ieATguo9yY9dfVwFQqszUfOeQ_477Rg1QX1O3O3yeiM4KPgIBvqLEzbiZdgK77Pu5hlvHO8n8UckBZiU7i4h-7UmlT3Co/s1600-h/IMG_6344.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcLOd5VW5c4ifynOrZYwQvQv0nb9ZqkSXehmB0JtwGNxC5-2ieATguo9yY9dfVwFQqszUfOeQ_477Rg1QX1O3O3yeiM4KPgIBvqLEzbiZdgK77Pu5hlvHO8n8UckBZiU7i4h-7UmlT3Co/s400/IMG_6344.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342776501765726066" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimHdtAXzKkpxme82Q2yC2y9sEqJyoIPc_P2g_k3DAeF0f2zog3eOY1y1skl7CcZGAqL15n0r6Oxzj9c-3eJOhvvRHqfW9yrPVjbkqWtLFq3yZIQd7i6giG9WChh1pm2nG7QNdkDKm6Om8/s1600-h/IMG_6341.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimHdtAXzKkpxme82Q2yC2y9sEqJyoIPc_P2g_k3DAeF0f2zog3eOY1y1skl7CcZGAqL15n0r6Oxzj9c-3eJOhvvRHqfW9yrPVjbkqWtLFq3yZIQd7i6giG9WChh1pm2nG7QNdkDKm6Om8/s400/IMG_6341.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342776500222901074" /></a><br />New creation alert! The "Life" and "911" necklaces. Handmade pendants, made out of the ancient Siberian Elm trees that surround my little 1860's house have fun little letters nailed onto them. "L.I.F.E" and "9.1.1" I have a previous version of "H.O.P.E" that I made a couple months ago. I got a brain cramp with it and so Hope is a very basic design. Then, last night it suddenly hit me and I sat down and made these two new designs. The new designs feature ribbon, a couple beads and Organic Flax Seed Oil lightly brushed wood. In the new designs I've also set the letter tags more permanently so they don't move around as they do on the HOPE necklace. <div><br /></div><div>The necklaces measure 16" and 17" and are complete with toggles to keep them around your neck. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am able to custom create these for you too. Choose up to four letters to go on your pendant. How fun is that? </div><div><br /></div><div>Come see more photos in my Etsy web shop. <a href="http://www.HaileysImpulseArt.com/">www.HaileysImpulseArt.com</a></div><div><br /></div><div>And one more thing! I have my art festival this weekend. I plan to take everything (but the vintage) to my booth to sell. If you see something you want in my online shop, then you'd best get it now as it may be gone after this weekend. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks for reading.</div><div><br /></div><div>Hailey Rose</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3855653541052270782.post-54393931956255349492009-05-31T15:55:00.000-07:002009-05-31T16:09:30.975-07:00Will it be all for not?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL1t5Tkw3edgnN17PyArtWPleIJDz5zSYQSscKODSiPQffJoI7nxDbDtPhgLvjOrSw344hiQL32VEv3CtwsImALlXy3SdCv19hhkoS4qvAIqmo30TM-JILufarYjzowQPAEEroSl5lgdE/s1600-h/IMG_1862_2.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL1t5Tkw3edgnN17PyArtWPleIJDz5zSYQSscKODSiPQffJoI7nxDbDtPhgLvjOrSw344hiQL32VEv3CtwsImALlXy3SdCv19hhkoS4qvAIqmo30TM-JILufarYjzowQPAEEroSl5lgdE/s400/IMG_1862_2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342127221036183986" /></a><br />Riverton Arts Festival is just a few days away now. I am still working on many things, trying to be ready. So many things to work on, and each thing is so time consuming. <div><br /></div><div>Here are some of the items I will have available while supplies last at the show:</div><div><br /></div><div>Photography:</div><div>sizes include 8x10, 8x8, 5x5, 12x12, 12x18, 20x30</div><div><br /></div><div>A small selection of handmade frames, some from barn wood, new materials, and up-cycled. </div><div><br /></div><div>Jewelry: designed and all handmade by me usually incorporating some Siberian Elm tree: This would include necklaces and my cute rings.</div><div><br /></div><div>Paintings: Several of my paintings</div><div><br /></div><div>Houseware items: decorative hand painted magnets, cottage style clothespins, desk art pieces, birdhouses, signs, etc.</div><div><div><br /></div><div>I hope you can come see me and all the other artists there. Here are the times and days (i think, they didn't include the times on their mailer, so this is judging off my info of when I need to be "ready to go"). </div><div><br /></div><div>June 4th 5 p.m. - 9 p.m.</div><div><br /></div><div>June 5th 12 p.m. - 9 p.m.</div><div><br /></div><div>June 6th 9 a.m. - 9 p.m. </div><div><br /></div><div>The event is being held at the Riverton City Park - 1450 West 12800 South Riverton, UT 84065</div><div><br /></div><div>Email me with any questions. But I'll see you there...I hope. </div><div><br /></div><div>I will be placing the items I take to the show on "inactive" status on Etsy, if there's something you want, and you wont be able to make it to the show, order it now. </div><div><br /></div><div>Love</div><div><br /></div><div>Hailey Rose</div></div>Hailey Rosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02595421458737086429noreply@blogger.com0