"Never get into a van"

by Lina Malten (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

A leap into the unknown Canada

A nice sunny morning on the side of a monotone Canadian highway somewhere outside of Banff National Park. The two of us were lazily leaning on our backpacks in the grass with a sign popped up saying “Vancouver” on it. While traffic was slow, we had nothing else to do than making plans. So we decided, why not try to make it all the way to Alaska? Enjoy the late summer beauty of the Yukon before exploring the Last Frontier, as the 49th state is nicknamed. We went from the bustling city of Vancouver to a mingle-mangle of hip alpine athletes at Whistler. Slowly snaking through the backcountry, we passed through small towns with forgettable names but unforgettable character – from shady pubs to quirky hostels that were nothing more than someone’s spare room with a bunk bed. We zig-zagged through the Yukon, splashed in hot springs and watched wild bison roam till we crossed the Alaskan boarder. We made it all the way to Wasilla, outside of Anchorage with a proud bear stamp in our passports to show for it. While hitchhiking was generally quite safe in Canada it was a different story in the USA. Cliché news of serial killers were well known, but now that we got this far, we wanted more: As far north as possible. Public transport was irregular this time of the year, so we seeked advice from a local girl. She said Alaska was fairly safe for hitchhiking, but recommended to stick to two basic rules: “Never get into the back of a van! And when the car leaves the highway, jump out!” Sounded easy enough. With new gained confidence we started the next morning, but an unfortunate combination of inappropriate clothing, minus 10 degrees temperature and a constant snowfall made us abandon all caution after just 15 minutes. The first car that stopped was, of course, a van with two males. All advice ignored in the face of harsh nature, we decided to get in; into the back of the van. The van took off and we followed the highway, a staccato of trees and waste land played by the window. Suddenly, the van took a small exit and swerved off the highway. Our “Where are we going?” was answered with “Just need to go and pick something up.” The grey concrete highway 3 turned quickly into a wooded area with gravel roads and small houses occasionally dotted between the trees. Doubt and regret crept in. Rule number two, “jump out the car”, seemed like an idea worth trying, but was prevented by the fact that the door didn’t open. Child lock. We congratulated ourselves on our stupidity and switched from flight to fight mode. Now we were two german girls with two small swiss army knives, prepared for everything. The van pulled up to a house, the men jumped out, collected something from the house and as promised we were on our way again within minutes. Back to the highway and the staccato of trees, wasteland, decreasing levels of adrenaline and relief. We were left at a small service station in the middle of nowhere, where we eventually got a ride to Talkeetna. Talkeetna was a great little place. Mostly deserted at the end of season, but a small roadhouse was still open offering homemade delicious food and warm beds. We decided to stay for a night, which turned into a few. The town is nested right where the Talkeetna River forks off the big Susitna River. Perfect for walks along the river bed, with footsteps cracking in the undisturbed snow and icy breath clouding the air while observing great bald eagles resting and hunting till the sun set. I can’t say I recommend getting into a van when hitchhiking, but I certainly don’t regret doing it. It was a leap into the unknown and a start to a fantastic journey. On our trip from Talkeetna to Fairbanks we enjoyed the impressive views of the Denali Mountain, an entertaining visit to Santa Clause’s House in North Pole and the breathtaking experience of seeing northern lights. We made friendships along the way that inspired us to make new plans.