July 18

 Rolf and Ruth Meyer-ter-Vehn, of Rumeln, Germany, were second parents to me, beginning when they served as my home base during my four month backpacking/train  trip throughout Europe in 1981. Rolf was one of the two most brilliant men I've ever met, and Ruth was full of wisdom, and had a heart of gold. Peach, who also had the great pleasure of knowing them later on, loved them as I did. We've been reminded of them on this journey. Ruth loved the Canadian Rockies at Banff above all others she had seen. They were different than the Alps; sharper and more barren. Rolf  told me years ago that they were amused by the Americans who visit Europe and "see" something like 12 countries in 10 days. "To visit France, a quick photo of the Eiffel Tower, a quick visit to Notre Dame, and a thirty minute visit to the Louvre, and off to the next country!" I've never forgotten that and have tried to experience the essence of places I visit, more than the normal scenic photo ops, ever since. I like to meet locals, and learn about the history, like Rolf would. But in Fairbanks, out of necessity, we were like those Americans trying to see 12 countries in 10 days. We arrived at night, went right to Chena Hot Springs: 50 miles past Fairbanks. It was a roller coaster road due to heaving from the permafrost. I wrapped a bike chain around the lever that locks the ball hitch in place for the trailer so if we sheared the cotter pin, the lever would stay down and we might not lose the trailer. After about a mere half hour soaking in the hot springs (kind of run down and at a cost of $40) we headed back down the road toward Fairbanks and parked on a gravel turnout off the road to stay for the night so we could start early the next day. The reason we rushed at Chena is because we wanted to grab the pullout spot Dennis and Peggy from Chichen Saloon had told us about. They had seen lots of moose in the pond across the road, and so did we, including mama and baby moose walking down the road near the camper.

In the morning we headed out early and spent not enough time at the very fine University of Alaska Fairbanks Museum, not enough time at the awesome Fountainhead Antique Car Museum, hustled to our excellent three hour paddleboat tour, quickly drove to the first class visitor center and exhibit just before it closed, and bombed 30 miles down the road toward Denali to make it before closing time at 8:00 for a beer at "Skinny Dick's Halfway Inn." (You read that correctly the first time!) Kind of like something I said in an earlier post; I tried not to, but just couldn't not do it! 

 A picture of me with the sign outside. It's not a real subtle place, obviously, but is named that because the owner was known as "Skinny Dick" and it's halfway between Fairbanks and Nenana.    

Me in the bar with the bumper sticker they gave me because of my name. I asked Peach to take a picture with it, but for some reason, she refused."

Backing up to the U of A at Fairbanks. Very fine museum with a tremendous amount of natural history and human history of the region. We wanted to stay longer, but we figured we'd better head to the auto museum before we wouldn't have enough time to see anything. We hadn't planned on going there at all, but two people at earlier campsites told us it was a must see. They were right. It might be the best museum I've ever been to, and I've been to a lot! Old Stanley Steamers, magnetic hybrid electrics from 1913, single cylinder wooden axle cars from 1898, and plenty of stuff I never knew existed, along with the first Fords, Caddies, Duesenbergs and everything you can imagine, fully restored and in working order! A lot of the cars were very rare and some were the only ones still in existance.  All of them were paired with  mannequins wearing history accurate, original clothing of the time. I'm no car guy by any means, neither is Peach, but we both loved this place. 

Peach and I sitting in the one car you could touch at the museum. 

The paddleboat tour was also exceptional with a great narrator pointing out many things along the way in a well orchestrated river/history tour. A bush pilot took off right past the boat twice, an Iditarod champion dog sledder gave us a demonstration of his team's pulling ability, a herd of caribou came to the river right on cue (from the hidden enclosure behind the trees) and native Alaskans gave us an informative tour of their culture and village, recreated there by the riverboat company. An exhausting day, but a good one.  Now we're finally relaxing in a highway pullout, by a stream, thirty miles north of Denali. We're drinking some good Alaskan beer with our dinner. It's not as good as the Königs Pilsner we'd always have with the Meyer-ter-Vehn family in Rumeln, but it'll have to do.