When writing about all those awefull things in Alaska, I didn’t get around to the most important one. And that is the people. We encountered another on the Alcan as we headed south.

Awefull People Everywhere

I was writing that post in the truck as Rene drove us down a lonely stretch of Alcan. It was somewhere north of Liard Springs, when I realized we had left Alaska behind. And, as you can tell I was reflecting, ruminating, and attempting to wax poetic. I was thinking of the people we met. And some others we’d only seen. And they all filled me with awe. I never met an Alaskan I didn’t like. Granted, I didn’t meet that many. But enough to believe they’re all good people. Even those neighbors I never met.

Even if they may have differing opinions, it seems they all get along. I attribute that to the fact that you must depend upon your neighbors. Alaska tries to kill you. There are times you will need help. So you help others when they need it. Especially on the Alcan.

What Happened on the Alcan?

“You wanna help,” Rene said. I was writing, and on a roll. But she was slowing down, and looking in the rearview mirror. I realized I needed to help. What if it were me on the side of the road? Been there, done that. So we stopped and I ran back to find the large man under his truck. He was struggling with his spare tire. And I was struggling to decipher what he was saying. I could only catch a few words of every sentence. No, this guy wasn’t one of the many “foreigners” you find following the Alaskan Highway. His cajun accent was so thick, I immediately thought of Herby K’s. Mmmmm…but I digress.

He noticed our Dodge, and asked me about the spare tire. It took some doing, but we finally got it down. I wheeled it up to the one the Alcan ate, as he started jacking up the truck. It was hot. The bugs were bad. I couldn’t understand him. But he needed the help. And that’s when the bear showed up.

We got the truck up on a jack, and started removing the wheel. A curious black bear was across the highway, approaching to check us out. With Rene waving and pointing, I noticed the jack was rather cockeyed under the big truck. “You hee dat?” said the cajun. Yeah, I heard the creaking and slow creeping as the wheels slid across the gravel embankment. I also saw the tilting jack and suggested we drop the truck before it drops on us. Then I envisioned the huge dually with all its camper weight tumbling over onto the big sweaty cajun. I wiped my own brow while swatting at flies as I stepped away. The bear had stopped to enjoy the show.

One thing is certain, this cajun came prepared. He had a second jack. He had blocks of wood. He had an air compressor. Maybe two. And, he had an impact wrench. We got the big truck up again, and the jacks upright. The wheels were now high enough off the ground to get off. And the bear was getting closer.

BBRRRRRRAP! BRRRRRRRRRAP! At the sound of the impact wrench, the bear wandered off. My new friend was having a hard time airing up the spare tire, which was way too low. I decided he could use some help stowing the flat. “Got no room fo dat in campuh,” he slurred through the sweat. So I dragged it back under the truck where it belonged. I attached the retention cable and started cranking.

He had rigged up the crank with a socket handle, in true Alaskan style. Or kinda coon ass too, I guess. So it took some more sweat and a couple bloody knuckles, but I got the wheel secured. Checking on the cajun, he said “Wud I owe you?” I patted him on the back and said, “I’m not gonna take your money.” But I did need to clean up. I grabbed the spray bottle of soap he had and paused, looking at the label.

He insisted I let him take me to lunch, if we meet up again down the road. And I asked the meaning of this “awsome” stuff. All I gathered is, “Dat’s whuts in dere.” Apparently, it’s some Totally Awesome cleaner.

Awesome indeed. Or, awefull rather. There are no coincidences on the Alcan.