Northbound: A Road Back to Alaska

When I decided to come home to Alaska, I’ll admit, my ability to uproot my life and move was at its strongest point. I knew I wanted to come back, and I knew I needed to start living life on my own terms. Moving to Alaska was never going to be easy or cheap. That’s what led me to drive. It was the most affordable option, and honestly, I couldn’t swallow my pride enough to ask anyone for help.

So, with the decision made and the details mapped out, I hustled for three months. I picked up side jobs, worked nonstop, and tried to get a foothold on building this business in Alaska something I could be proud of once I arrived.

I’ve driven across the country before, from Savannah, Georgia, to Ontario, Oregon, but I knew this drive would be different. I didn’t realize just how many ways it would test me, or how clearly it would show me that I was on the right path, heading exactly where I was supposed to be.

Day 1: Ontario, OR → Cranbrook, BC

My first day on the road was full of untapped excitement and nerves. I knew I’d be crossing into another country, something I had never done before. I hit the road bright and early, watching my cousin in the rearview mirror with tears in her eyes. I knew I was leaving behind someone who had helped me get right where I needed to be. The roads felt familiar, but towing a U-Haul trailer behind me was not.

Thor, my dog, rode passenger unsure of what to make of all this. He loves the car, but I could tell he was confused about why all our belongings were crammed inside. In some ways, I envied him. He had no idea about the long journey ahead or that he’d see his mom break down more than once along the way.

I stopped in Spokane for a quick lunch with my brother. It was short but sweet, a moment to catch up and share a hug before my long stretch north. That little pause with family fueled me for the miles ahead.

By the time I reached the Canadian border, all the nerves I’d been carrying felt unnecessary. It took all of three minutes, a quick passport check, and a friendly Canadian border officer saying, “Enjoy your stay.” Just like that, I was in Canada. My first thought? It already reminds me of home. Towering mountains and endless wilderness spread out before me, and it only deepened my longing for Alaska.

My stop for the night was Gold Creek Campground, tucked off the beaten path in the woods outside Cranbrook. The property and the host were lovely, and the quiet was exactly what I needed. As I set up camp, I stood there for a moment thinking, “Damn, I’m really doing this, aren’t I?”

That night, the silence of the forest wrapped around me. Rain began to fall as Thor curled up beside me, and it was the perfect lullaby to carry me into sleep. Still buzzing with excitement and determination, I woke up at 3:30 a.m. the next morning and was back on the road by 4.

For anyone thinking about traveling this route, here’s my first piece of advice: either make sure you’ve got great service or invest in a hotspot. Because once I hit those stretches of road, I quickly realized that would be the only way I’d know where I was going.

Day 2: Cranbrook, BC → Prince George, BC

My morning started with a small adventure, driving around in the dark, searching for a gas station that was actually open. I had no idea where I was, just circling until finally, around 5 a.m., the same 7-Eleven I’d already passed twice had opened. I went inside, and the employee behind the counter offered me his hotspot. Just like that, success. I was back on my way.

I felt proud of myself, like I’d used my resources and a little street smarts to get to point B. What I didn’t realize, though, was that this was just the beginning of my service problems. From that day forward, my phone signal would be almost nonexistent. Everything I’d read had warned me things got bad around Fort Nelson, but I wasn’t prepared to be so disconnected so early. Back home, people were glued to their phones, watching for updates from me, and I hated the thought of them worrying.

As the day went on, the mountains got steeper and the hills longer. My car, a 1998 Mercury Mountaineer pulling a fully loaded trailer, was working overtime. On one slow crawl up a mountain, I made the mistake of stopping and starting at the top. That was all it took. My car overheated. It was like she was saying, “Absolutely not. Why do you think I can do all this?”

I pulled over on the side of the mountain, no cell service, nothing. I tried walking around with my phone, hoping to catch a satellite signal. I managed to send two quick texts. Standing there, panicked, I couldn’t help but think, It’s only Day 2. I have three more days to go. Did I make a giant mistake thinking I could pull this off?

After regrouping, checking fluids, and sitting for a good 40 minutes plus a dozen prayers, I turned the key. She started. Slowly, carefully, we made it the rest of the way up the mountain. Lesson learned: slow and steady really does win the race. And to anyone stuck behind me crawling at 30 MPH—I’m sorry, but also not sorry.

When I finally made it to my next stop, I ran into another problem: my campsite had been double booked. No spot for me. Completely drained, I called my dad and mom in tears. No Wi-Fi, no easy fix, but he stopped everything to help me figure it out. Together, we found an RV park in Prince George. Relief washed over me the second I pulled in.

That night, I set up my tent, took a hot shower, and collapsed into bed. Exhaustion took over, and I told myself I’d sleep in. For me, “sleeping in” meant 5 a.m., but after the day I’d just survived, even that felt like a gift. I packed up, climbed back into the car with Thor, and set my sights on Fort Nelson.

Day 3: Prince George, BC → Fort Nelson, BC

This was one of my best days on the road. I left early, got a good start, and the roads were mostly flat, which, for my car’s sake, I was deeply grateful for. The sun was shining, and the outdoors felt like they were welcoming me with open arms.

I stopped several times along the way just to take it all in. Photos, quiet moments, pulling over to breathe in the views, it was breathtakingly beautiful. For the first time on the trip, I didn’t feel like I was under immense stress or like my car was seconds away from giving up on me. I actually felt like I was going to make it. And that was such a good feeling to finally carry with me.

Arriving at my third stop in Fort Nelson was…well, let’s just say it wasn’t the Ritz. Sometimes booking a place online comes with surprises, and this was one of them. I felt uneasy, not entirely sure if my belongings, were safe sitting outside. Thor clearly had his own opinions too, voicing his concerns with some low growls. Needless to say, neither of us slept as peacefully as we should have before the long journey to Whitehorse the next day.

Still, I woke up early, packed up, and texted (or at least thought I texted) the family chat to let them know I was safe and on my way out of the seedy motel. Looking back, it really wasn’t a great place but, to be fair, Canadians are so genuinely nice that my confusion about whether I was actually in danger is still intact.

Day 4: Fort Nelson, BC → Whitehorse, YT

This day wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. Lack of sleep had started to catch up with me, and I kept telling myself: just make it through today, and tomorrow I’ll be homeward bound.

Everything I’d read about Fort Nelson being without service was true. Driving alone on such a remote stretch of highway felt uneasy. The only lifeline I could see were the red emergency phones, maybe one every hundred miles. That was it.

I had been driving for six straight hours when I finally reached Watson Lake and the famous Sign Post Forest. I pulled over, exhausted, only to realize something: the message I thought I’d sent to my family that morning had never gone through. So, while I thought I was being responsible, everyone back home had spent six hours not knowing if I’d even left my last stop.

When I finally got through, my parents picked up right away. I could hear the worry in their voices. I was tired, grumpy, and hungry, and I snapped a little, insisting I was fine—I was just sick of driving. The truth was, the concern in their voices reminded me how hard this was. I’ve done a lot of tough things on my own, but this trip was pushing me. All I wanted was a hot meal and a bed.

I told my dad I loved him and promised to text him directly from then on. No parent deserves that kind of worry, even if their kid is 34 years old.

The last leg of the drive that day was mentally exhausting. The emotions hit hard, I just wanted to be done, to be where I was going already. But when I finally stopped for gas one last time and grabbed a coffee, I felt a small second wind.

Reaching Whitehorse that evening was pure relief. I sat down to what might have been the best burger I’ve ever eaten, though hunger might’ve made it taste even better. Thor and I settled into our cabin, and by 7 p.m. I was out cold. I slept straight through until 3 a.m., ready (or maybe just determined) to face the long final stretch home to Alaska.

Day 5: Whitehorse, YT → Home(Eagle Rive, AK)

It was early, and I had slept better than any night before. Thor and I were ready, we both knew it. Home was waiting.

I found a gas station and didn’t even bother with the Wi-Fi. There weren’t many ways you could go from here, and I had a list of gas stops to get me through. Not watching the clock on GPS made the first stretch of the day fly by. For the first time, I let myself believe: I’ve done it. I’ve made it to the end of this crazy journey I’ve been planning for the last three months.

But Alaska wasn’t going to let me in that easily. Just past Destruction Bay, the roads turned brutal, frost heaves, long mountain climbs, and rough pavement. Ask me why I decided to make my last day a 13-hour drive, and I still won’t have a good answer. I should have stretched it into six days.

Crossing back into Alaska was as quick and simple as entering Canada had been, but it carried so much more weight. The end was near. I was determined to push through those final hours, but my car wasn’t nearly as determined. Less than three hours from home, I had to stop for about an hour and let her cool down. By then, my patience was gone.

Sorry, Mom and Dad—I’d like to say I drove responsibly during those last 100 miles. But the truth? I was running on fumes, mentally and physically. I just wanted to be done.

Then, finally, familiar landmarks began to appear. Roads I’d driven in my youth, places tied to old memories. I had never been so happy to see Palmer, Alaska or to pass by the fairgrounds of the Alaska State Fair, still one of my favorite places.

Those last thirty minutes were the longest of my life. But when I finally pulled into Eagle River, there was only one thought in my mind: I did it. I made it home.

Home Sweet Home

After five straight days on the road, staring at endless stretches of highway, worrying about my car, and feeling bone-deep exhaustion, I couldn’t even match my excitement to the reality in front of me. I was so happy to finally see my parents and my aunt, but my body was still in “road mode.”

My dad looked at my car and trailer like he couldn’t quite believe they’d survived the trip. Later, my mom admitted that the first words out of his mouth when I walked through the door were, “Holy shit, I’m glad she made it.”

I’ve visited Alaska a handful of times since leaving, but I never really thought I’d be back for good. Even now, as I sit here writing this, it still hasn’t sunk in that I’m home to stay.

But the very next day, I was surrounded by family. By love. By joy I hadn’t felt in a long time. And in that moment, every mile of the 2,950 I had just driven felt worth it.

That journey was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done and I probably wouldn’t do it again unless I got to ride shotgun. But I did it. I made it home.