Big and rowdy: An Alaskan roadtrip

By Allison Brophy Champion

Published: May 28, 2008

ALASKA! Everything’s bigger up there. Forget Texas.

From the gas prices, solitary scenes and the hangovers to the incredible nature and absence of manmade development, watch out — it’ll reach out and grab you. It did me during our recent weeklong getaway to this glorious 49th state.

Ever hear of Yukon Tea? It’s like a Long Island only, oh, about 10 times stronger and bigger.

Ask my husband about it some time, and our wild night(s) at the Yukon Bar, a locals’ joint in beautiful downtown Seward, a quaint fishing village about two hours south of Anchorage.

Love the Blue Ridge like I do? The mountains in Alaska blow them away in a snow-covered kind of way. Looked like icing.

Made me hungry for nature. I couldn’t get enough.

The natural beauty in this north, north, north state was so stunning it made me proud to be an American — and not in the context of Michelle Obama’s recent comments. It gave me a special kind of peace that I haven’t been able to find in the lower 48.

Long for summer nights on the East Coast when it gets dark around 9 p.m.? The sun never goes down in Alaska, or so it seemed. We caught the 8:50 p.m. showing of the new “Indiana Jones” movie and it was still light out when it let out after 11.

Could make a person want to party all night (who me?) and it makes for some really big produce.

I loved Alaska so much I missed the season finale of “American Idol” without much regret.

But for a place that’s so rich in oil, the gas prices are really big too — $4.39 a gallon when we left Seward Saturday morning for a couple days in Anchorage, the state’s biggest city.

Maybe it was sticker shock then that caused me not to remind my husband to gas up our rental car before we started off on the 126-mile trip up the Seward Highway.

Lots of gas in Alaska, true, but not many gas stations.

Oops.

Not great cell phone reception either out in the great wild and not too many roadside pay phones on which to dial 911 if one were to, say, run out of gas.
Yikes.

“Do you remember seeing any gas stations on our way to Seward the other day?” my husband asks, a slight panic in his voice, less than halfway to Anchorage.

“You know? I don’t,” I respond, eyeing the gas gauge, noticing the lit-up fuel light.

And then, silence for about 15 minutes. By now, he’s really starting to panic. I can feel it.

“Let’s stay positive,” I say, thinking stupidly that maybe we can make it even though the gas needle is flirting with ‘E’ — hell, by now, it’s married to it.

Stunning scenery continues to pass us by. I’m taking it in.

My poor husband is sweating, but it’s not that hot in Alaska.

Still no gas stations. We’re lucky if we see a mailbox at the end of a driveway. We pass through Moose Point.

Finally, after a few choice words of quarreling among us (we both lost our cool), we see a lodge/bar up ahead — no shortage of those around these parts even in the middle of nowhere.

“I’m going in to see where the nearest gas station is,” my husband declares, about to pass out from panic.

I grunt in response, thinking I love it when he takes control of a situation, and trying to hold my tongue about him forgetting to get gas in Seward. It always gets away from me — sorry baby.

A few moments later, he rushes out, looking slightly relieved.

“There’s a gas station 18 miles back off the highway in Cooper Landing,” he says.

“Or 55 miles ahead.”

U-turn time.

We pass back through Moose Point, the gas gauge below ‘E’ by now. But my husband thinks we can make it now, and we really don’t have any other choice.

Whew! We make it.

He laughs loudly, exhaling a big breath of air. The gas prices are even bigger in Cooper Landing, but you don’t hear a peep from me.

My husband — my hero.

Pulling away from the gas station after laying down 50 bucks, we get in the biggest fight ever.

Alaska-big.

A few minutes later, me putting down my newspaper, and agreeing to drive so he can enjoy the scenery along the Seward Highway, we let our moments of panic subside.

We let it go. Letting go of the small stuff — it’s something I learn every day in this thing called marriage.

Now that’s a big deal.

Allison Brophy Champion doesn’t usually write clever comments in her tagline, but she’s been to Alaska now and is feeling bold. Check out next Thursday’s travel page for more on her trip. Allison can be reached at 825-0771 ext. 101 or