***Carl and Emma
eventually reached California, and drove North along the coast, staying as
always, two miles per hour over the speed limit. The Whale handled
surprisingly well, considering that it had three gas tanks, two air
conditioners, a TV satellite dish on the roof, a generator, two roll-up
awnings, trail bikes hanging on each end and, of course, a boat lashed to
the roof.
They passed through
California and once again marveled at the heavy woods of Oregon, and the
staggeringly beautiful landscapes. Washington also offered its own
particular brand of visual treats, even though it rained most of time and
was very cold, bordering on snow.
It did snow in
Canada, but lightly, and not enough to build up on the roads. The highways
got lonely and traffic was sparse as they drove through the mountainous
areas of British Columbia toward the Yukon Territory. Highway 97, the
famed Alaskan Highway, took them north past Kluane and Burwash Landing and
shortly after, they crossed the border into Alaska. Even though it was
cold, there was very little snow on the ground and they stayed comfy-cozy
in the spacious cab of The Whale.
Here, they picked up
Highway 2 - a great road - into the heart of Alaska and then swung north
on Route 6. The terrain got meaner looking and the weather colder. Emma
got out the brochure for Santa's Village and gave Carl the appropriate
rights and lefts, until finally, near the northern part of Alaska, they
ran out of paved road and saw the sign that ominously read, "Santa's
Village, 41 Miles. Unpaved Road. Travel At Your Own Risk!"
The road was
nastily, rutted, slick with frozen patches of ice, and studded with tire
shredding rocks. Much to Carl's credit, he piloted the huge Suburban with
skill and grace, and three hours later, arrived at the entrance to Santa's
Village, one very tired off-roader.
Emma popped into the
office and registered for their room, picking up a fistful of brochures
and a half-dozen souvenirs in the process. She was bright-eyed and
smiling. "Carl, we just have time to freshen up before the seven
o'clock show."
Carl raised his eyes
skyward and mumbled, "Whoopee."
***The show was as bad
as Carl thought it would be. The audience consisted of about 14
white-haired old women accompanied by bored-looking husbands. Little elves
danced around the dinky stage to scratchy recorded music, while a fat guy
in a Santa suit ho-ho-ed like an axe murderer. A ratty-looking reindeer
was dragged out on the stage and promptly did a disgusting act of nature
on Santa's foot. Carl could have sworn he heard Santa say some words he
hadn't heard since his Navy days.
They had a toy
making demonstration that was so stupid Carl simply could not believe it,
and then some more elves danced around like chickens with no brains and
then the fat guy yelled ho-ho-ho some more, and mercifully, the curtain
came down.
Carl and Emma had a
very bad meal in the restaurant and then retired for the night. Carl was
very happy that they'd be leaving the next day and fell asleep quickly.
Morning brought
bright light through the windows and Carl quickly showered and dressed,
then headed out to check on The Whale before the long drive back. Or at
least he tried to. The door of the hotel room would not open.
Frustrated, Carl got
on the hotel phone. "Hey, what's the deal? My door won't work!"
A chuckle was heard
coming from the other end of the line. "Oh, nothing is wrong with
your door, sir. We just had a bit of a snowfall. You might look out your
window. I'll hold."
Carl looked out the
window and saw nothing but white. Then he stood on the bed and looked out
the six-inch gap that was not covered by snow. He could see the top of The
Whale, and just the top. Snow was everywhere. Many feet of snow. Piles and
piles of snow.
Carl grabbed the
phone. "Hey, I've got to get out of here. The Super Bowl is right
around the corner!"
"Sorry, sir,
but we'll be snowed in for a few weeks. It happens up here like that, sort
of sudden like. However, you won't be bored, because the elves will be
having toy making workshops and you can get involved. By the way, sir ...
Merry Christmas and a hearty ho-ho-ho to you!"
A thumping sound
aroused Emma from a very deep slumber, and as she opened one
sleep-encrusted eye, she saw Carl banging his head against the wall.
Emma pulled the
blankets over her head and quietly went back to sleep.
