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By Carl Gerhardt
About Carl
Carl Gerhardt is the chairman of Allegra Network, one of the world's largest print, marketing and graphic communications franchisors, linking more than 500 locations in North America under the brands Allegra, Signs Now, Insty-Prints, and American Speedy Printing.
Carl and his wife, Judy, owned and operated their own successful Allegra Network franchise for nearly 20 years before selling the $2.3 million operation in 2003. He is a PrintImage International/NAQP Honorary Lifetime Member and was inducted into NAPL's prestigious Soderstrom Society in 2010 in recognition of his contribution to the industry.
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Small Business Aid Package: Buyers' Bill, Sellers' Bill or Both?
By Carl Gerhardt, CEO Of Allegra Network
| Posted on November 17, 2010
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When the small business aid package passed in September, creating a $30 billion small business lending fund and providing $12 billion in tax breaks to help companies invest and hire, business owners in every industry began to ask the question: How will this affect my company?
There is no doubt that the legislation should impact the printing industry—both buyers and sellers. The question is, Will it? When? And, how?
Here are some pressing questions many of us are asking:
Will sellers have it easier, since buyers should have better access to capital?
In theory, yes! In actuality, we simply don't know. Too often when such government programs are announced, we do not see any real impact on "small business" and/or lenders at the local level. Buyers should check out their lending sources and see if their potential lenders are really serious about lending to them. This means going through the process of doing a thorough review of one's financial profile and getting a firm commitment from the lender.
It is one thing to have a loan officer (salesperson) give you a verbal "You qualify." and quite another to get the loan committee's actual approval. Franchise organizations, and in some cases business brokers, have lending sources they work with that can help with this process.
A better answer to this question might be that if a buyer or seller has to rely on government stimulus to make a deal happen, they may not be thinking right. If a fair sale price is established and a buyer is financially qualified for the size of the purchase, the deal should get financed with or without any special incentives. That said, the aid package should help and certainly should not hurt.
The recession has produced a large number of qualified buyers that have been downsized by corporate America. This should make it easier for sellers to find a buyer. Moreover, with government incentives, it should be easier to get financing.
Based on our experience with the Allegra MatchMaker Program, sellers should still be prepared to finance a portion of the purchase. Many, if not most, lenders require this. We do, as well, when we match buyers with sellers to join our franchise. When the seller has some skin in the game, it gives everyone more confidence that the acquisition will work and will make financing approval much more likely.
Further, maintaining some vested interest in the future of the business with some watch dog controls that can be included in the promissory note and security agreement can be a win-win for both the buyer and seller.
Will more business owners be inclined to sell their business?
Many business owners would like to sell, given what they have been through the last two years. The reality is that a large number have seen their sales and profits erode dramatically.
In the print and sign industry, sales have declined an average of 20 percent during this time period. In many other industries, the decline has been even more dramatic. This has reduced the value of many of these businesses to the point to where the seller cannot "afford" to sell. Many will choose to attempt to build back the value of the business before selling. The government-sponsored lending and tax credits may help some of these businesses with this rebuilding.
A critical point is that owners expecting the market to come roaring back may be in for a big disappointment. This is especially true for printing companies. Many industry analysts are predicting that print volume will not likely bounce back as it did following past recessions. So, waiting to sell and depending on market forces to restore lost value may very well be a false hope. On the contrary, if owners are not willing to restructure their businesses for the new graphic arts market, they may be better off selling now before value drops further.
Others may find the industry restructuring that has been accelerated by the recession puts them in the position of being unable to afford the investments needed for the future. Their only choice may be to sell for whatever they can get. Many of these businesses may be forced into selling to, or consolidating with, another printer. Finding a buyer that is willing to buy a "fixer upper" is very difficult. Most buyers tend to be risk adverse and want to replace their former income as quickly as possible. This is why they are not motivated to start a business from scratch.
The financial portfolios of potential buyers also suffered dramatically during the recession. The recent recovery of the stock market has helped rebuild these portfolios and has encouraged many of these potential buyers to re-enter the market. This would signal that this would be a good time to sell, as buyers are not only more motivated but also more financially fit.
Is it a good time to sell?
There is never a simple answer to this question. It depends on what is motivating the seller and how well the business is positioned to sell. There are organizations and programs available for business owners to utilize if the time is right for them to sell. As mentioned, Allegra Network currently works with both buyers and sellers through the MatchMaker Program. It pairs entrepreneurs looking to invest in an Allegra Network location with independent commercial print and sign shop owners seeking to sell their existing business.
As it stands, it is still too early to know what the long-range results of the small business aid package will be. However, the most important realization to be made is that while many of America's small businesses have suffered during the past few years, the industry outlook is much better than it was three years ago. This will result in a better environment for both buyers and sellers.
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subset: commoncrawl


text:
the english word for fag,, just like u
Bebo's shoes ,, damn,, how pooftish are thoses shoes
by Diego, Susy, Elizabeth
March 23, 2003
7 more definitions
Top Definition
a variation of the english slang poof, meaning a homosexual. Specifically a poofta is a thin, small framed gay male, the equivalent in english is "twink"
the young guy that just came in is so cute, what a poofta.
by Edit Machine
April 28, 2005
A reaction to urbandictionary rejecting a definition
urbandictionary rejected my definition. Poofta!
by Mr. Poofta
July 09, 2010
N. One who is a faggot, gay, or enjoys the company (especially in the anus) of other men. Frequently enjoys the thrusting of the male genetalia into his own or anothers anus. A male who listens to Celine Dion (for pleasure) and dyes his hair blue can be and should be considered a poofta. Also, one who dresses in the manner characterized by Elton John, and/or The Village People.
Peterson is such a poofta.
P.1 Hey what's that man doing dressed like Elton John?
P.2 Probably trying to impress the man dressed like The Village people.
P.2 Pooftas.
P.1 Hey what's that man doing dressed like Elton John?
P.2 Probably trying to impress the man dressed like The Village people.
P.2 Pooftas.
by Poofta Hunter 2000
May 12, 2006
A fagget or homosexual male who is so gay it's never questioned whether or not he is a poofta. Any fag in a relationship who is the 'bitch' or catcher to his boyfriend, the pitcher.
My cousin Matthew, who is so anorexic he's 20lbs under the healthy weight for his age and height, and goes by the name 'Mattie' to friends/family and wears his mothers bathrobe around the house.
by ashamed
July 05, 2005
The aftersmell of a fart. Usually follows the farter.
Holy God, Marc! What a poofta!
by Liam, Bitches
November 19, 2004
To act like a fatass who doesn't want to do anything
Ahhh he's acting all poofta
by John
March 16, 2003


text:
Gorraasa is a soft, doughy bread enjoyed in the Sudan that tastes like a really thick tortilla. The texture is a bit more spongy, however, and when I pulled mine into pieces, I was delighted to find the slight elasticity at once addicting and good for picking up food. Which is exactly how the Sudanese use Gorraasa. They place a round of Gorraasa under stewed meats or other entrees, then tear off bits of the bread to pick up the food instead of using utensils. It can also be enjoyed on its … [Read more...]
Recipe: Coconut Roti
The best thing about thinking I don't like something, is finding out how wrong I am. I've always operated under the assumption that flaked coconut is much too squeaky between my teeth. Sri Lanka and these Coconut Roti proved me wrong. There's something so refreshing about dumping three ingredients in a bowl and emerging with warm, doughy flatbread that smells like a day in the tropics. Or Sri Lanka, to be specific. In fact, I did an entire post cataloging the best recipes with three … [Read more...]
Recipe: Braided Heart Bread | Pleteno Srce
We are closing in on spring ... that special time of year, when weddings and baby showers sprinkle our calendars, and everything is awash in the promise of new love. In Slovenia, such times are marked with Pleteno Scre - an ornamental, braided, tender loaf of bread, shaped into a heart. Pleteno Scre is an honored gift. The slightly sweet loaves are painstakingly decorated with edible tokens, like wedding rings and flowers (as I have done), or even astonishingly detailed birds, or paper thin … [Read more...]
Recipe: Grilled Garlicky Bacon Bread | Hrianka
"Better to eat bread in peace, than cake amidst turmoil." - Slovak Proverb Oh, Slovakia. My husband has been woo'd, my daughter smitten. As for me, I'm in love. No, it's not because of Valentine's Day. It's because of Bacon. Garlic. Oh, and a nice, thick slice of Sourdough Rye Bread. Yes... Slovakia really did us in when it comes to Hrianka. At her most basic, Hrianka is plain toast rubbed with garlic. At her most beautiful, she's a collection of hearty slices griddled … [Read more...]
Recipe: Saudi Lamb "Pizza" | Aysh abu Laham
In Saudi Arabia, there's an old saying "A friend is known when needed." In other words, when you need help, true friends show up. They might ask "Can I do anything?", but more than likely they'll simply roll up their sleeves and get to work. Because the answer is clear, yes, you need them. A true friend quietly brings over a covered casserole after you've given birth to your first child. They take your child to the park so you can sleep off a fever. They silence their phone and hold your … [Read more...]
Recipe: Caribbean Fry Bakes
This week I've completely given up: - shooing the cat off our bed - working so hard, I can't see straight. - being in a hurry - doing the laundry - eating boxed cereal Instead, I'm now: - snuggling my cat - not-so-accidentally forgetting my phone at home - dancing with my daughter with the curtains wide open - playing board games with family - gobbling up bakes Thanksgiving week is a time for a little closer look at what matters. It's about family, not work. It's about … [Read more...]
Recipe: Rum Glazed Coconut Bread Pudding
It's a fact of life: when the wind howls, children everywhere refuse to wear their coats. They arch their little backs, squeal-whine and assert "I don't need a coat, mama." In this situation, we have two choices. We can hunker down and try (struggle) to put their coat on, until one or both of us are crying. Or. (Or is that beautiful word that keeps life bearable and tantrums at a minimum.) Or... we can stand outside with them, coatless in the wind, just for a moment. We can feel … [Read more...]
Recipe: Romanian Easter Bread | Pasca
In my dream Romanian house I am surrounded by tall, sunny windows overlooking cobblestone streets and green, leggy hills. As I sit in a velvet window seat, I nibble copious amounts of Pasca, a traditional sweet bread enjoyed on Easter morning. The bread is filled with sweet cheese (think something like cheesecake) and sometimes raisins. Between bites, I sip a cup of steaming, hot tea. The nearby oven radiates gentle heat that drifts through the house and takes the chill out of the … [Read more...]


text:
Originally published June 9, 2007 at 12:00 AM | Page modified June 9, 2007 at 2:02 AM
As missing-teen case cools, Aruba turns against family
Arubans helped search for the Alabama high-schooler, who disappeared two years ago, but now they're embittered by the negative publicity.
Los Angeles Times
The principals
Natalee Holloway: Alabama teenager who vanished May 30, 2005, after leaving a cantina with three local men after an evening of heavy drinking.
Beth Twitty: Holloway's mother, who doggedly pursued the case for months — personally pursuing leads, conducting cable-TV interviews and publicly accusing the three locals of killing her daughter.
Joran van der Sloot: Dutch citizen, then 17, and one of the three locals last seen with Holloway; arrested 11 days after her disappearance and detained for three months but never charged.
Satish and Deepak Kalpoe: Surinamese brothers, ages 18 and 21, respectively, at the time, also among the local men last seen with Holloway; also detained for three months but never charged.
Julia Renfro: American citizen, editor-in-chief of Aruba Today newspaper; assisted Twitty during the early stages of the investigation but now critical of her cable-TV appearances and "flat-out lies."
Los Angeles Times
ORANJESTAD, Aruba -- A siren blares, and whistle-blowing waiters race in to the "Mexican Hat Dance." It's time for the hourly tequila attack at Carlos 'n Charlie's on this Caribbean island.
The target is an inebriated female with seven friends. Waiters crown her with a sombrero, toss a serape over her shoulders and pour a stream of golden liquid into her mouth.
Liquor-plying mission accomplished, a disc jockey swaps the peppy Mexican melody for T-Spoon's "Sex on the Beach."
Alcoholic excess and abandon are back in vogue at the cantina, where a pretty blond teenager from Alabama named Natalee Holloway was last seen by her high-school classmates -- drunk and supine on the bar as a boy slurped Jell-O shots from her navel.
Two years later, the mystery of the missing girl lingers. No body has been found, no evidence of a crime has been uncovered, and the 18-year-old's disappearance is close to being labeled a cold case.
The trajectory of the case mirrors the increasingly bitter relations between Holloway's parents and the people of Aruba, arcing downward from the moment two years ago when islanders joined in the hunt by the thousands to today, when locals mutter over American media distortions and "missing white-woman syndrome."
The principals
Natalee Holloway: Alabama teenager who vanished May 30, 2005, after leaving a cantina with three local men after an evening of heavy drinking.
Beth Twitty: Holloway's mother, who doggedly pursued the case for months -- personally pursuing leads, conducting cable-TV interviews and publicly accusing the three locals of killing her daughter.
Joran van der Sloot: Dutch citizen, then 17, and one of the three locals last seen with Holloway; arrested 11 days after her disappearance and detained for three months but never charged.
Satish and Deepak Kalpoe: Surinamese brothers, ages 18 and 21, respectively, at the time, also among the local men last seen with Holloway; also detained for three months but never charged.
Julia Renfro: American citizen, editor-in-chief of Aruba Today newspaper; assisted Twitty during the early stages of the investigation but now critical of her cable-TV appearances and "flat-out lies."
Los Angeles Times
Holloway's parents -- and cable-TV crime analysts who followed their plight for months -- have cast affluent Aruba as a dangerous den of iniquity, its police force as inept bunglers and its government and people as co-conspirators in covering up what happened to the partying teen.
Although they have recovered from the initial economic fallout, Arubans say the accusatory free-for-all was a blast-force end of innocence -- danger could indeed lurk on sugar-white beaches.
Yes, it was a blow to their livelihoods, as U.S. visits fell 7 percent last year. More painfully, Arubans say, it was a wound to the heart for all who had joined prayer vigils and searches in the most thorough hunt ever mounted on their island.
"Last year was a tragedy for us. Many people's businesses were ruined. But what hurt the most was what they were saying about us on TV," said restaurant manager Edwin Trimon, a fixture in the Aruban tourism industry.
Marcelino Maduro, who has had a taxi service for 17 years, angrily defends his island nation: "The truth is, Aruba is safe. We don't have people begging. There's no bad neighborhood where a tourist feels he could be in trouble. We were all shocked when whatever happened to this girl happened."
In the first days after Holloway went missing, on May 30, 2005, hundreds of tourists joined Aruban police and U.S. private investigators in combing the island's beaches, coral outcroppings and cactus-studded fields. The Aruba government gave thousands of civil servants a day off to join the hunt.
A pond was drained near the Marriott, where Holloway was reported to have gone after she left Carlos 'n Charlie's with three locals. North-shore sand dunes were scoured. F-16s flew in from the Netherlands -- Aruba is a Dutch protectorate -- to infrared-scan the entire island for signs of freshly turned earth.
No trace of Natalee Holloway was found. Now, the period defined by Dutch jurisprudence for bringing suspects to trial is about to expire.
Under Dutch law, prosecutors can designate suspects for arrest and interrogation without probable cause but must bring a case within "a reasonable time," defined by judicial precedent as about two years, unless fresh leads justify extension.
On June 9, 2005, 11 days after Holloway's disappearance, Aruba police arrested Dutch citizen Joran van der Sloot, then 17, and Surinamese brothers Satish and Deepak Kalpoe, then 18 and 21, respectively. They were released three months later after a magistrate ruled that police had insufficient grounds to detain them further.
"I hope we can close the case against them," said attorney David Kock, who represents the Kalpoe brothers. "They have been living with this sword over their heads for two years now."
Vivian van der Biezen, head of legal and policy assistance for the Aruba prosecutor's office, says authorities are prohibited from discussing an active case, but that a new phase of the investigation began six weeks ago.
On the recommendation of Netherlands officials who reviewed Aruban and FBI reports, van der Sloot's home was searched again April 27. Twenty forensic investigators perused his parents' diary notes and a personal computer and poked narrow rods into soil in the backyard of their modest home.
Paulus van der Sloot, the suspect's father, said they found nothing suspicious.
Van der Biezen said she was confident the magistrate on the sister island of Curacao, where the case has been relocated, will give the prosecution more time. But she conceded the clock is ticking and, at best, they have a few more months to find a body or forensic evidence.
"There will come a time when we have to make a decision to prosecute or make it a cold case," she said.
Like many Arubans who understood the anguish of the missing girl's parents, van der Biezen is reluctant to accuse them of interfering in the investigation. But she observed that their freelance actions in confronting witnesses and suspects blew early opportunities for clandestine surveillance.
Beth Twitty, Holloway's mother, complained on cable-TV shows that the parallel probe that family members and friends conducted was being ignored by investigators.
"We've just about done all the investigation for them, I guess, so to speak, identified witnesses, put the three suspects on a silver platter and gave it to them," Twitty said of the sleuthing she did when Aruban police still were convinced her daughter simply had extended her vacation.
American Julia Renfro, editor-in-chief of Aruba Today, initially sided with Holloway's parents when they sought publicity and lambasted Aruban police for following Dutch investigative procedures different from those in the United States.
Galvanized by compassion for a desperate mother, Renfro stopped the presses of her daily newspaper for the first time in its history to include a picture of Holloway to aid Arubans in the islandwide search.
Renfro, a mother of four, spent weeks shuttling the family from the scene of one rumored development to another, but she became disenchanted with what she saw as Twitty's pandering to tabloid TV and "flat-out lies" she told on the air.
"I feel guilty saying any negative thing about a mother who has lost her daughter," Renfro said. "But her behavior was odd from the get-go."
Renfro has concluded that the body would have turned up by now if she died on the island proper. She -- and many Arubans -- doubts the three suspects, all good students without criminal records, could have pulled off a perfect crime, never caving in to intense interrogations.
"I've spoken with all of the suspects," she said. "I don't believe any of them did anything to her."
Heavily intoxicated, according to accounts given by her classmates to the FBI, Holloway could have staggered into the sea and drowned after the local men left her, Renfro speculated.
Holloway might have died of alcohol poisoning or a drug overdose and washed out to sea, as Deputy Police Chief Gerold Dompig surmised. She might have climbed aboard one of dozens of catamarans and cabin cruisers for late-night partying after a nearby concert.
Renfro says she was perplexed when Twitty immediately concluded that her daughter had been kidnapped and made no effort to check hospitals or police about accident victims. Within hours, Twitty had concluded van der Sloot was responsible, and within a couple of days she was telling TV interviewers that she knew her daughter had been gang-raped and murdered.
Twitty did not respond to e-mailed requests for an interview.
Renfro ceased front-page coverage of the disappearance after what she considered a malicious act of distortion. A video aired Sept. 15, 2005, on "Dr. Phil" appeared to show Deepak Kalpoe telling a California private investigator, Jamie Skeeters, that Holloway had sex with all three men on the night she disappeared.
The Kalpoe brothers sued talk-show host Phil McGraw, CBS and Skeeters (who died in January), alleging the clandestinely recorded jailhouse conversation was doctored heavily to change the older Kalpoe's response from "No, she didn't," to "She did."
Versions of the original and aired tapes available on YouTube.com and other Web sites appear to back Kalpoe's contention that his words were altered.
While the investigation appears to be running dry, the case of the "missing white woman" promises to live on for years, at least in legal-TV and unsolved-mystery broadcasts.
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text:
California Department of EducationThe state's education site which provides census data, funding and grant information, instructional strategies, more.
Education Data PartnershipDesigned to offer educators, policy makers, the legislature, parents, and the public quick access to timely and comprehensive data about K-12 education n California.
Education WorldDesigned with teachers in mind, this resource provides information on school issues, technology and lesson plan ideas.
ERIC OnlineThe U.S. Department of Education's Educational Resources Information Center, a database of education literature.
GreatSchools.net A non-profit online guide to K-12 public, private, and charter schools nationwide with detailed profiles on California schools.
National Center for Education StatisticsNCES is the primary U.S. government entity for collecting and analyzing education data.
Online Degrees, Financial Aid, and ScholarshipsLists online college and university degree programs in more than 100 fields of study, along with financial aid and scholarship resources for online students, and links to other similar websites.
Peterson's Guide to Colleges and UniversitiesContains K-12 schools and summer programs, college, grad school, online, and continuing education planners. Offers advice on getting started, finding a school, preparing for tests, and paying fees.
U.S. Department of EducationInformation about the Department's offices, programs, assistance services, funding opportunities, and more.


text:
Gamakatsu\'s Trout Treble Hooks were developed for discerning trout anglers looking for an edge. With the popularity of artificial dough and paste type baits, it was only a matter of time that an added advantage was needed. These high quality, sticky sharp, trebles fit the bill. The light wire design will allow your bait to float higher and stay in the strike zone. Also, the tne wire design will allow for quicker and deeper hook penetration.
The quintessential Round Bend Treble Hook, Gamakatsu Round Bend Trebles have all the attributes that make them the "go-to" treble for use as replacement hooks on a range of lures. Ultra sharp, strong and perfectly designed to penetrate quickly and hold tight, you'll get more out of your lures with Gamakatsu Round Bend Treble Hooks.
Gamakatsu Feathered Treble Hooks enhance any lure they're matched to. Add one of our Feathered Trebles to the back of any topwater bait and watch you lure come to life. Beautifully hand tied on our premium Round Bend treble.
Buiilding on the runaway success of Gamakatsu's EWG bass hook, the EWG Treble Hook features a telltale Extra Wide Gap designed to hook and hold timid biters. Another excellent replacement hook for any of your favorite hardbaits.
For those situations where regulations mandate the use of barbless hooks or to assure easy release of your catch, Gamakatsu developed the Round Bend Barbless Treble Hook. The unique treble hook shape assures optimal penetration and holding power.
When only a heavy-duty treble hook will do, Gamakatsu's 4x strong is built to withstand the pressure. Forged for exceptional strength, Gamakatsu's 4x Strong Treble Hook is equally sharp and immediately ready for action!
Gamakatsu's Treble 23, blends their award-winning Magic Eye to a 2x strong wire in a Round Bend Treble. Stout, perfect for replacing less-effective factory-hooks, the Treble 23 is tailored to landing big, tough fish...wherever you find them.
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Home » Social Justice » Congregations Take Action » Young Adult Spirituality & Service » Volunteer with Peace Humanity
"I want to treat patients (in the U.S.) with Africa!" —Mollie Fetterolf (Health Program, Ghana 2011, studying nursing at WVU)
Peace Humanity International, formed in 2003, is a multifaceted Non-Governmental Organization, based in Ghana, that remains dedicated to empowering the Ghanaian people and improving their quality of life.With a wide array of community partners, Peace Humanity International has executed a multitude of local initiatives and continues to uplift their people at all levels of society.
Mission: To Peace Humanity, peace is not simply the absence of war, but a condition where people's basic needs are met, and they have the opportunity to freely pursue their dreams and aspirations. Therefore, Peace Humanity's mission is to tackle the root causes of conflict, which include, illiteracy, hunger, and poverty, through volunteerism.
Vision: To see a world where the people of Ghana and Africa live in peace regardless of sex, tribe or social status.
Peace Humanity International is truly dedicated to making your trip safe, fun, culturally enriching, and fulfilling! For more information, please contact email@example.com or Erik Mohn at emohn @ uua.org.
Note: Peace Humanity's website is currently under construction, but feel free to check out the Jukwa Community Project Facebook Page.
In addition, here is a voice recording done by Erik Mohn and Kwame Appiah in August 2011.
"Those who give sunshine will never be deprived of the sun itself."—Kwame Appiah
This work is made possible by the generosity of individual donors and congregations. Please consider making a donation today.
Last updated on Friday, September 30, 2011.
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Please allow me to echo what many others have already said so eloquently on the LA* lists:
On behalf of the Linuxaudio.org consortium, L2Ork, and personally I would like to extend very best Holiday wishes to all LA* users, developers, artists, enthusiasts, supporters, contributors, companies, and sponsors. May we have many more years of a thriving community and bountiful creativity.
Likewise, I would like to express deepest gratitude to all who have contributed towards making audio on Linux not only possible but also remarkable! After all, Linuxaudio.org, L2Ork, or many of my personal projects would've never been possible without your talents and generous contributions!
Ivica Ico Bukvic, D.M.A.
Composition, Music Technology
Director, DISIS Interactive Sound & Intermedia Studio
Director, L2Ork Linux Laptop Orchestra
Assistant Co-Director, CCTAD
CHCI, CS, and Art (by courtesy)
Virginia Tech
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text:
Lye Soap For Psoriasis
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Hello friends!
I am back with another Giveaway for all of you guys.This time I promise its much bigger.This time I have kept not only 4 prizes but my Giveaway is open Internationally to
all residents worldwide.I am conducting this giveaway in context to my
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Its open from 27 April 12 a.m to 14 June 12 a.m.
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>There will be THREE winners in my Giveaway chosen by random.org
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just fill up the Google Doc form and be a part of my celebration. if
you have any queries then please mail me at email@example.com
P.S I had to remove the Raffelcopter form as it was slow and many of you could not enter it properly.I have saved the details of all of you who filled up the previous form. I regret for all the inconvenience caused to all of you.


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text:
187 Fraser to Chifley
Letter WELLINGTON, 20 October 1947
Thank you for your letter of 2nd September in which you refer to our discussions on the preceding day in Canberra on the subject of co-operation between our two Governments in British Commonwealth defence.
I am glad to have your assurance that the co-operation between our two Governments in defence will be on the basis of equality, and with an effective voice and vote as mentioned in my letter to you of 14 July- I wish to confirm also that New Zealand participation in the Australian machinery is subject to the principle expressed in your own memorandum that the sovereign control of our policy is retained by the New Zealand Government, that the assent of our representative is required on whatever level a matter is considered and that, without the expressed assent of our representative, the view of the other representatives cannot bind the New Zealand Government on any matter affecting a commitment on its part, or the control or use of its forces and resources.
The arrangements for co-operation in defence between our two Governments will, I hope, prove fully satisfactory. They will, of course, depend in a large measure upon the will of the officers of our respective Governments to work together in pursuit of our common object. We shall do our best to ensure that this spirit prompts the work of our representative in Australia and assume that opportunity will be afforded him of working at all stages of the defence machinery which your Government has approved. If this close understanding exists at all levels of the preparation of plans, particularly in respect of joint defence undertakings, then I feel sure that we should have few, if any, difficulties. I will take steps to see from our point of view that the work of our representatives is kept constantly under review, and if at any time I felt that there was any improvement which appeared desirable then I should certainly let you know.
I would be very happy to arrange for a New Zealand Joint Service Representative to be accredited to the Department of Defence in Australia, and it is proposed, if you agree, that Colonel Duff, who is the New Zealand Chiefs of Staff Representative on the Joint Chiefs of Staff in Australia, should be accepted for this purpose.
I shall welcome the appointment of a Joint Service Representative of Australia in New Zealand, and you may be assured that our Defence authorities will look to work with him on the basis of the fullest co-operation.
So far as J.C.O.S.A. is concerned, I agree, in the circumstances, that it should be dissolved. Control and administration of the British Commonwealth Occupation Force would for the future be effected in accordance with the principles stated in the second paragraph of this letter.


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Welcome To The Official Game4Charity Headquarters
Game4Charity is a site showing Gamers who game for Charity. We play all kinds of video games and are always looking for new ways to advance. We are proud supporters of Childs Play and will be supporting more charities later on.
For more information about us check out the About Us Page or email us at email@example.com
once again welcome, take a look around at what we have to offer from the live streams to the store(maybe buy a shirt or 8) and make a donation now to help Childs Play.
We also accept Donations just click the donate button choose your amount and donate straight to our PayPal. As we plan on donating to various charities and creating prizes for tournaments in the future, donations are needed. So please help us to help others as it means alot and will help this community grow!


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Chapter One
Beau at the Welcome Sign to Alaska, Day 10. |
After five years to reflect and, with my 16-year-old graying English Cocker Spaniel by my side, I shall share a brief recap of our story in the hope that it will inspire others to do something as wonderful.
- I had made only one reservation for the entire two weeks, and that was at the Hilton Anchorage. Other nights, Beau and I slept in inexpensive hotels or under a small tent. Occasionally we slept in the jeep, and on three occasions, under the stars.
- Driving from Ithaca to the Canadian border in Saskatchewan, we traveled state and secondary roads--our tires never touched the Interstate. In Canada, we often drove provincial roads until we reached the Alaska Highway in northern British Columbia.
- We stopped every 40 miles or every hour, whichever came first. I never peed before Beau. We always ate together, never in a restaurant. He sat up front with me in the passenger seat, and almost always wore his seat belt.
Beau relaxing after lunch on the lawn of the provincial capital building in Regina, Saskatchewan, Day 5. |
Chapter Two
Every time I got out of the jeep, Beau jumped over into the driver's seat as if truly in command of the trip. |
Beau curled up on the front seat beside me and slept. We stopped in western New York communities to pee, snack and explore—places with interesting names like Varick, Avon and Alden—then we pushed on to Niagara Falls and crossed the border overlooking the great cataract.
Rather than take the large bridge over the river into Detroit, we drove south and waited in line for two hours for the little ferry that crossed the St.
One of the 200+ cars waiting in queue in Sombra, Ontario. The privately-owned ferry is midway between Canada and the U.S. shore. |
Johnny Dog, selling hot dogs to visitors along the river. |
We didn't reach the ferry dock in Ludington on the eastern shore of Lake Michigan until 1:00am. Totally exhausted from the long day, we just slept in the jeep. With Beau's head draped over my arm I awakened only once to his soft snoring. If he awakened more often to mine, I never knew.
The 410-foot S.S. Badger prepares for loading at Ludington, Michigan; but not before Beau makes pre-departure friends with a Springer Spaniel named Cocoa. |
For security and safety reasons, drivers are not allowed to remain with their vehicles. For the first time in 24 hours, I relaxed on deck, a cup of evil-tasting coffee in one hand and a map of Wisconsin in the other. Four hours ahead lay Manitowac and the entrance to the great midwest.
(1) During the period when I was in veterinary college in Canada, it was common for the practice owner to charge summer interns with sole responsibility for occasional night and weekend emergency calls.
Beau proudly wore his green SS Badger bandana during the entire trip. |
Just then, my jeep darted past me and slid obliquely into a narrow aperture vacated by a departing car. Hours earlier, I had left all four windows open just a few inches, but now the passenger side window was wide open and there was Beau, sitting fully erect, looking straight ahead. As his eye caught mine, he yelped and almost exploded through the window into my outstretched arms even before the jeep came to a full stop. I was too relieved to scold the young driver for foolishly opening the window. At the same time, I could not help but wonder if, in the freedom of the great ship's hold, perhaps the dogs had organized quite a party after all.
Attractive, family-operated dairy farms were throughout eastern Wisconsin |
At the little town of Weyauwega, we strolled up the main street and found a park for lunch. A local woman stopped to visit with Beau and told us that during a March night in 1996, a train with 37 cars loaded with propane and other combustibles derailed just north of town. It caused such explosions, fires and concerns of residual toxins that the whole town was evacuated. People were hastily forced from their homes during the night, leaving pets behind anticipating they would be back in hours. As day three arrived and increasingly-agitated pet owners threatened to break through security lines to rescue their pets, the governor finally ordered the Wisconsin National Guard to intercede. They removed pets from houses and reunited them with their families. In some respects, this was a learning exercise for the handling of animals during Hurricane Katrina a decade later.
The world's largest talking cow in Nellesville, Wisc. |
In the wee hours of the morning, we awoke to an thunderous storm viciously slamming the windows of our motel. Beau left his blanket to snuggle closer to me as if to acknowledge we were fortunate not to be camping. We found out just how fortunate the next morning.
Damage from the tornado-like storm that swept through west-central Wisconsin the night before. |
Beau and Hunter became fast friends |
Princeton's Party House was paradoxically located next to the Book and Bible Store. |
Big Tom, the World's Largest Turkey, Frazee, MN |
Chapter Five
Statue at the entrance to the hockey arena shown below. |
Massive hockey arena at University of North Dakota, built with a $100m gift from alumnus and former goalie, Ralph Engelstad. |
The modest Biomedical Research Facility sits in the shadow of the expansive arena |
Acres of honey bee-laden sunflowers brought joy amid an otherwise challenging day. |
What gratification I felt from Beau's dramatic lunchtime recovery was short-lived. No sooner were we back on the smoke-infested road than he returned to his restless rising, circling, collapsing, sighing. Neither reassuring talking nor my caressing quelled his mounting anxiety as we stuttered across the prairie at an appallingly-slow rate. For the first time on our trip, I seriously considered aborting the journey.
Rugby, North Dakota, the geographic center of North America. |
We arrived at
What was our worst day became the turning point in my experience of traveling with Beau, as well as in my maturation of traveling with myself. I got a dose of humility and common sense in a manner that I had not experienced in the preceding ten years as chief executive of a major veterinary college.
Sometimes the greatest lessons in life come from the most humble circumstances, or from your dog, or both.
Chapter Six
We wound our way around the western edge of Minot and headed northwest on Highway 83. The smoke of the previous day had been replaced by a dense mist that clung like a tattered fleece to the D
Ducks cluttered every pond, every quiet bend in the river. Some were solitary, some in clusters, but all bobbed their little heads incessantly into the water like energetic mechanical toys. As the jeep passed by, we would see either an upright duck, a headless duck with tail feathers pointing to the withering moon, or a duck in rotary transition. Beau would have been amused by the sight, but he lay like a baby resting quietly after a day of colic.
Though I was awake and well-rested, my eyes did tricks on me as the light of the morning battled the charcoal from the night sky. I periodically slapped my cheeks and lowered the window to the damp rushing breeze to remain alert. Seeing a brilliant flashing yellow light ahead of me, I adjusted my speed to prepare for what I assumed to be a slow-moving construction vehicle ahead. The distance between our vehicles closed much too rapidly and then I realized with horror that it was coming right at us down the middle of the road rather than moving in the direction that we were traveling. Its weak headlights were overpowered by the mesmerizing orange strobe. Just before what would have been the point of impact and with an ugly horn blaring in my face, I veered onto the right shoulder and careened around the giant truck. I never really did see what it was as we passed each other in the dim light, but it appeared to be some sort of a road-cleaning truck with giant sweepers on its front bumper. It was the closest we came to an accident the entire trip, and I was understandable grateful for the loving angel watching over Beau and me that morning.
We arrived at the border hamlet of Portal at 6:45 am, and I stopped for gas before approaching the small customs house. A ranch truck pulling a loaded horse trailer had just cleared U.S. customs coming from the north, and three 40-something, salty-tongued women had climbed out for a stretch and a cigarette. One of the women--huskily-built--came over to pet Beau, then turned back to her rig and bent low under the trailer to inspect the underbelly of their truck. Averting my eyes from the Josephine-the-plumber moment, I quickly topped off the fuel tank and hastily approached the waiting customs agent. I was his only customer.
As was typical of each of my four border crossings into
Beau meeting Larry and his wife from London, Ontario.We discovered that his veterinarian was a mutual friend who, like me, had graduated from the University of Guelph. |
Harvesting wheat on the Saskatchewan prairie near Estevan |
Colourful grain silos discharging wheat to waiting rail cars. |
Weyburn, a picturesque town of 10,000 people in wheat country. |
Larry and his Siberian Husky on the grounds of the capital building in Regina. |
The remainder of the day was pretty much fast-forward because we needed to rest our heads in the mid-northern university city of Saskatoon that night. Tomorrow we would be in Alberta, and the following day, the much-anticipated Alaska Highway. I was beginning to feel the excitement.
Along the 260km stretch from Regina to Saskatoon, I rolled over in my mind the cost-benefit of camping that night vs finding a motel. Wanting another warm shower and hot dinner, I settled on the latter. However, a few kilometers south of the city, we came upon a large estuary. Though it was getting dusk, we drove around the back side of a large marsh area where scores of white pelicans and hundreds of ducks were moored on a sand bar.
Pelicans and ducks in a secluded marshy area south of Saskatoon. |
Chapter Seven
I didn't want to leave the comforting borders of Saskatchewan. Everyone had been so helpful; even the wheat fields were friendly. Ahead of me lay the Texas of Canada: obscenely rich, lusting after oil, big trucks and fast cars. Young men with no patience to wait in line for morning coffee, driving so fast that the dogs loose in the back of their pickup trucks had to lean against the wind as they snarled at Beau peering from his perch in our small jeep.
Hyperbole, for sure. They did have fresh toilet paper, though. |
The single (not paired, like Texarkana) border city of Lloydminster that straddles the Saskatchewan/Alberta border was founded on sobriety and strict Anglican values a century ago. But in typical Alberta fashion, that doesn't prevent oil-slathered bikini-clad women cavorting in the fine art of oil wrestling as advertised on the town's makeshift bulletin boards.
At the antique and general store we sifted our eyes through boxes of Velveeta cheese and cans of lard, honey and udder balm that were reminiscent of the general store stock when I was growing up.
The Abundant Life Wellness Center in Levoy, Alberta |
We barely got back on the road to Edmonton and were teased off again by a sign advertising the world's largest pysanka in the upcoming town of Vegreville. This was the site of a large Ukrainian settlement and the Easter egg-like monument is a reminder of the multitude of immigrants who populated the western reaches of Canada a century ago. One of these was a transient visitor, my paternal grandfather who as a young lad was a cowboy-of-sorts near Calgary.
World's largest Pysanka in Vegreville, Alberta |
Just as quickly as the traffic onslaught had developed 30 minutes earlier, it ended and we swung in a tight arc north to the small town of Onoway. I found a comfortable park for lunch and rested for what seemed like a long time. As we drove west, I felt that we were nearing the Arctic. Of course we weren't yet, but the starkness of the landscape spawned a sense of loneliness.
Late that afternoon, we reached the bustling town of Valleyview in western Alberta. We were only 250 km from Dawson Creek, the eastern terminus of the Alaska Highway. Smelling victory, Beau and I stopped at a small tourist center on the outskirts of town. It was August 17th, the 89th anniversary of my father's birth. Sadly, he had passed 40 days earlier.
Beau in a carpet of birdsfoot trefoil legume in Valleyview, Alberta. |
There were several other visitors whom we met: an older couple with a Shih-Tzu and young couple with toddlers. A pre-teen and her father with a baby in his arms walked along the crest of a hill.
As dusk descended and with my belly full of Arctic char (and Beau's of chicken), we drove up and down the main street looking for a pet-friendly hotel. 'No pets allowed' was the familiar refrain, especially that of a New Jersey transplant whose rudeness was matched only by his slovenly appearance.
Totally discouraged and feeling the effects of 36 hours without a shower, I grasped at straws until we found a secluded, too-expensive, smelly motel on the west end of town. Despite the cost, we checked in. I got cleaned up and had my first shave in five days. When I emerged from the bathroom, Beau was sniffing the rug, moving from one urine spot to the next on the tattered carpet. Then he started scratching his belly. The whole floor was a mass of stale dog urine. And fleas.
It was dark now, but we nonetheless packed up hastily, and strode out the front door with barely a nod to the orange-haired receptionist who was arguing with a older and apparently-familiar man at the desk. Driving back to the east end of town, we left the jeep half-hidden behind the welcome center. We climbed the cedar fence into the birdsfoot trefoil pasture and went to sleep side-by-side on a single blanket. The smell of the legume was euphoric. Though I remember nothing of my sleep that night, I would like to think I was dreaming of growing up on the farm back in Ontario.
I woke up to the sound of a diesel engine idling on the road in front of the visitor center. Though it was just 4:30, the early inky blackness of the night was starting to be nudged aside by the dawn. Feeling me move, Beau sat upright then disappeared into some knee-high clover to pee. I followed, while peering to see if the man in the truck was concerned about an unfamiliar jeep parked where it shouldn't be.
Before I could fully analyse the situation in my half-asleep state, the truck took off, though I could see the man was still on his cell phone with his head was turned in our direction as he accelerated towards town.
Beau and made a beeline for the jeep and departed Valleyview. We didn't stop until we reached Grande Prairie 130 km away. A misty rain penetrated the murky dawn when we stopped for breakfast in this gateway city to the Alaska Highway. My only thought of the turn in weather was to wonder if the rain would persist throughout the Yukon route so that would not be able to see and photograph the animals in the Rockies.
The sun was starting to emerge by the time we reached Beaver Lodge an hour later. I did some grocery shopping--as was our custom now, my first stop was always the deli, where we picked up a roasted chicken--then I topped off our gas tank and photographed a reluctant Beau dwarfed beside the world's largest beaver.
The famous mega-beaver at Beaverlodge near the British Columbia border. |
We crossed the border into British Columbia just before noon. "The Best Place on Earth", the sign read, and many Canadians feel that way. From the temperate capital of Victoria on the luscious Vancouver Island, to Vancouver, the olympian city, the third-largest in Canada. North from the fruit groves of the Okanagan Valley through some of the most majestic mountains and glaciers on the continent, British Columbia has it all.
A few kilometers across the border sits the town of Dawson Creek, the eastern terminus of the ALCAN (Alaska-Canada Highway), more commonly known now as simply the Alaska Highway.
Mile 0 of the Alaska Highway at Dawson Creek. |
We stopped in Dawson Creek just long enough to take the requisite photo in front of the 0 milepost, then we left the rest of the tourist trappings to folks driving RVs, and we headed west.
The first half of the Alaska Highway, from Dawson Creek in British Columbia to Whitehorse in the Yukon. Photo modified from "The Milepost", 2008 |
Beau needed to loosen up at the little town of Taylor, so we ran up and down a long boulevard-like stretch of green grass next to the monument honoring Alexander MacKenzie, the first white explorer to make the transcontinental crossing to the Pacific Ocean in 1793. MacKenzie with nine men and a dog (named simply "Our Dog") made the journey a full ten years before Lewis and Clark's epic journey further south.
Alexander MacKenzie and his team of nine men and a dog traversed the Rockies to the Pacific Ocean ten years before Lewis and Clark's journey. |
Seven hours later, we pulled into Fort Nelson and found a pet-friendly motel for the night. We had traveled 770 km (over 450 miles) in one day, but tomorrow would be longer yet as I had made a reservation at Whitehorse's famous Best Western Hotel for the night.
As we sat on the lawn eating a very late dinner, I chatted with a family that had just crossed the same route west-to-east. The two preteen children were too exhausted to speak, and clung to parents like half-hung wallpaper. "It's a magnificent route," said the father, "but the animals are all over the road in the mountains." His kind warning was music to my ears. This was, after all, what our journey was all about. The glaciers, mountains, rivers, caribou, moose, bear, bison. We wanted it all, and we wanted it up close and personal.
We went to bed that night snuggled close together. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.
We had been traveling alone in the mountains for over an hour with the sun now shining brightly when I spotted two caribou walking down the road towards us. Beau saw them, too, and he sat up straight and peered intently through the windshield. I'm not sure which of us was more excited as Beau started to whine and jiggle all over, and I pulled over onto the shoulder and grabbed the camera.
Bull caribou and yearling beside the Alaska Highway |
We spent the next 20 minutes watching a bull and a yearling graze beside the road, periodically returning to the road to advance a few yards, then ambling into the brush once again. I would like to have stayed with the gangly pair all day, but we were almost 800 km from
The scenery along the road was breathtaking. We were traveling through the rugged Canadian Rockies, with large mountains and fast-moving rivers racing along the road beside us.
The Alaska Highway (arcing along the left side of the photo), followed the course that the river had cut between the mountains. |
On that quiet morning, the reflection in the water was as clear as the view above the surface. |
Stone sheep ram high on a ridge overlooking the Alaska Highway. |
Suicide Hill was impressive with its tight curves and precipitous descent. On its shoulder stood two sets of floral wreaths bearing testament to those who had been unable to control their vehicle on an icey morning. One of the wreaths contained in its circle the picture of a double-long rig that apparently went over the edge carrying a good-looking young man who was pictured beside his truck on a happier day.
By midmorning, we had seen over 20 Stone sheep: ewes with sharp points on the horns and flat-headed calves still waiting for the first buds to appear. Males with ruggedly-built curved horns stood watch beside the road or perched in the rocky ledges high above.
Stone sheep ewe and lamb in the Rockies |
Wood Bison near Liard Hot Springs Provincial Park. |
Sign Post Forest near Watson Lake dates to 1942 and contains the world's "largest collection of stolen property". |
Situated almost equidistant between New York City and Tokyo, Japan, Sign Post Forest lies a few miles from Watson Lake in the Yukon. |
It was late in the afternoon when we finally said goodbye to our friends in Watson Lake, promising to visit them on our return trip. The Rocky mountains and the day's large animals behind us, we hurried on the last 440 km towards Whitehorse.
The entrance to Teslin Bridge, approximately two hours from Whitehorse, Yukon. |
Stopping at the Teslin River crossing for dinner, we had a relaxing visit with a couple from Montana whom we had met at a rest stop earlier in the day. Driving the Alaska Highway can be like that: long stretches of nothing and no one, then you can be surprised by the joy of seeing a person you met earlier and it is as if you are reunited with a close friend. A friendly, helpful close friend.
Chapter Ten
Though Whitehorse was built on the quest for gold, it was made memorable by the poetry of Robert Service, the Scottish bank worker who came to British Columbia and then was transferred to the Yukon during the 1900 gold rush. Every Canadian school child of my generation has some familiarity with the poem, 'The Cremation of Sam McGee' that tells the story of a hapless man from Tennessee whose hunger for gold took him to the frigid Arctic where he froze to death, but not before making his buddy promise that his remains would be cremated. The poem starts ominously,
As Service told the story, Sam was cremated by his prospecting friend on the banks of Lake LeBarge in a furnace in the hulk of a grounded river boat. As the inferno crackled and burned hotter, the prospector beat back the heat to open the furnace door. Peering out from the center of the fire was a smiling Sam, urging his comrade to shut the door and keep out the cold and storm because, "Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm".
Beau and I took the short drive to the shore of Lake LeBarge where we sat together on the bank of the lake as I recited from memory the cremation story, all 15 stanzas. It brought back wonderful memories of my childhood when I would rehearse my school-assigned poetry to the calves as I would feed them their milk, or to the cows as I would sit under them one by one, adjusting the milkers.
The SS Klondike replicates stern-wheelers of the gold rush era. |
Whitehorse was built on the backs of working and sled dogs that were more reliable and able to withstand the frigid winters than horses. The name of the city that was founded in 1897 refers to the white, frothy rapids which were an image of a horse's mane.
Despite its equestrian name, dogs defined Whitehorse as much as the gold that built it. |
For two nights we stayed at the Gold Rush Inn, enjoying accommodations more luxurious than anything we had experienced along the route to this point. Beau was as kindly received as any weary traveler and his presence provided a welcome memory of pets back home for many stopover guests. "Oh, I wish we had our dog with us, too" became a common refrain. Beau loved the attention, though in his inimitable way he would only comport to a stranger's attention for a few seconds before returning to my side.
Though Whitehorse is the capital of the Yukon, a walk along the streets gives you the impression that all the working-aged men have left town. Here in the subarctic, the men spend most of their summers in a place called simply, up north, where they harvest energy for use in southern Canada and the lower 48 states. As one sage told me when he stopped to chat with us, "The men are gone all summer, returning when they have a long weekend just long enough to impregnate their girlfriends or wives, then they head back to the gas or oil fields."
The reception desk in the pet-friendly Gold Rush Inn was complemented with taxidermy: a wolf and several foxes. |
- The man from Madrid living in the Congo, who travels the "Voodoo Trail" to learn about medicinal plants and herbs;
- The two Cowboys from Amarillo who were on a Posse to rope in souls for Jesus;
- A South African woman, schooled in London and Los Angeles, whom he met in Djibouti, and is a publisher and concerned member of a club that supports national parks throughout Africa.
A retired DC-3 is the World's Largest Working Airport Weathervane. |
Chapter Eleven
We encountered breathtaking scenery west from Whitehorse. The Kluane National Park and Reserve of Canada is home to some of the most majestic mountains in North America. Tucked far off the highway and well beyond our sight is Canada's highest peak, Mount Logan. Only a few hundred meters less than Mount McKinley, this and other mountains in the area are reported very challenging to climb.
For Beau and me this day, the visible part of the range, buffered by a broad expanse of conifers, lakes and wide expanses of marsh lands gave unforgettable vistas rich in the expectation of fall colors.
The Mountains and wetlands of Kluane National Park west of Whitehorse, home to Canada's tallest peak, Mount Logan. |
Beau cavorting on the shore of Kluane Lake |
I lay down on the damp shore, just as the pebbles met the sand, and gazed out at the ripples on the lake. A loon landed far away and bounced along on the surface where it dipped below my line of sight then reappeared like a mirage on a desert. Beau wandered among some thorny bushes nearby, occasionally snapping at a fly or twig that ensnared his foot. I rolled onto my back with my head on the uncomfortably damp surface, thinking how very peaceful was this place. Somewhere later, I felt Beau's soft tongue on my lips and awoke with a shutter.
Beau and host, Kim, at the welcome center in Beaver Creek, Canada's most westerly community. |
It struck me yet again what fine people there are in the Yukon. Free, confident, proud, beautiful people who see thousands pass by on the Alaska Highway day after day, yet they retain their center, their culture, and their sense of purpose. And I wondered what the winters were like.
Forty-five minutes later, after traversing some of the most moth-eaten road I've ever driven upon, we pulled up to the quaint U.S. border crossing. A young agent looked at my passport. He checked his computer and conversed with a more senior colleague also crammed in the little cubicle. Ever so nicely, he asked for my driver's license. More conversation, more checking the computer. Then, in a most pleasant voice, he said something to the effect that I was probably okay, and he welcomed us back home. "Home", I thought, "but isn't Canada home!". I had lived in the U.S. for 30 years and still had conflicting emotions.
A pair of Trumpeter swans just a few miles west of the Canada-Alaska border. The same pair (or a pair that looked the same) was in the identical site when we returned two weeks later. |
Chapter Twelve
After our picnic dinner of salmon and chicken, we checked into the Snowshoe Motel and settled in for the night. Their pet policy was the most rational I had seen the whole trip. There was a sign in each room welcoming your dog, stating the fee ($25) and indicating in pleasant but clear language that your credit card would be charged appropriately should the room be damaged or soiled. I thought it was a fair, unambiguous and non threatening policy.
I slept soundly and awoke refreshed about 4:30. Beau lay beside me with his eyes wide open, waiting for his cue to get moving. Though I knew that we would be returning through Tok in about ten days, I had this strange feeling that our epic journey was coming to a close.
The sun would not rise until 6:15, but we headed out into the crisp morning. The quarter moon lit enough of the parking lot that we could see it was dotted with bouncing white puffs, showshoe rabbits. Keeping Beau on a short leash until we were away from the town, I marveled at the millions of stars spread across the entire expanse of sky. Other than that, my head was empty and my feet just shuffled along.
We returned to the motel, packed the jeep and left Tok. At the edge of town, we stopped for a quiet breakfast on the grass as Venus melted into the dawn.
Thirty minutes later, just as the sun was peaking over the eastern horizon, we headed sound on the highway that is called the "Tok Cutoff". A long straight stretch of road made me think we were back in North Dakota, but the Wrangell mountains far to the east assured me that we were in Alaska.
Wrangell Mountains between Tok and Palmer |
Like other travelers, we stopped to admire the Matanuska Glacier, Its full two mile depth and 20-plus mile length was hard to imagine from the road. However, after driving down the dirt road to the glacier's leading edge and paying the fee to walk out next to it, its massive expanse and the bone-chilling air made it seem like a living organism.
Matanuska Glacier |
We arrived in Anchorage mid afternoon. The four-lane expressway seemed too large, the cars were going too fast, the sidewalks and schools and shopping centers were incongruous with the forest and the "danger - moose" signs. Everything seemed out of place.
The Hilton Anchorage, luxurious and dog friendly. |
After a long walk along the river and a quick stop for some takeout dinner, we returned to the room to clean up from our journey. In the previous 14 days, we had traveled over 4,200 miles traversing five states, four Canadian provinces and Canada's Yukon territory.
I ran the bathtub half full of warm, soapy water and gave Beau the longest bath of his life. Off came the sand from the St. Claire River, the dust from British Columbia and the burrs from the shore of Lake Kluane. Even the green bandanna from the Lake Michigan ferry crossing was clean.
With a warm blow-dry, his soft red fur glistened once again and he fell asleep across the top of the largest bed he had ever seen.
Beau resting after his bath at the Hilton Anchorage. |
On our second day in Anchorage, with Beau safely in a veterinary clinic, Doris and I drove south from Anchorage through the Kenai Peninsula, our destination being the ocean port of Seward.
Naked spruce trees that had been thrust into the salt water during the 1964 earthquake and tsunami were still visible from the road marking one of the areas where the ground sank during the deadly earthquake that so devastated the southern coast of Alaska.
Beluga Whale south of Anchorage |
Glacier feeding Portage Lake |
Marina restaurant with its unique local fare. |
Seward harbor with its personal and commercial boats. The layers of vegetation are seen in the distant mountain. |
Jelly fish swimming close to the surface nest to our boat. |
We took a sealife boat tour of Resurrection Bay and felt the damp salt water breeze on our faces. Wildlife was everywhere, from puffins and bald eagles, to sea lions basking in the sun on a rocky ledge. We even saw colorful jelly fish right next to our boat.
Sea lions sunning themselves on a rocky ledge. |
Tomorrow we would visit the Alaska State Fair north of Anchorage, and the following day, head north to Denali National Park, the site of North America's highest mountain.
While in Anchorage, Doris, Beau and I stayed in a Best Western motel beside Lake Hood, only three miles from downtown Anchorage.
Lake Hood is the world's busiest seaplane base with a constant stream of lake traffic -- we were told almost 200 flights per day -- and more on the gravel runway adjacent to the water. Because many people live in small, remote communities in Alaska with no road service, air travel (often by float planes in the summer and skis in the winter) represents the only connections to the larger world.
Float airplanes docked in the lagoon adjacent to Lake Hood |
Lake Hood etiquette for dealing with the large number of float planes |
Alaska's major roads are in the southeast quadrant of the state (not including the pan-handle that runs south adjacent to British Columbia's northwestern border). Anchorage has only one road heading south of the city (through the Kenai Peninsula), and two traveling north. One of the northern roads passes Denali Park and continues to Fairbanks 300 miles north of Anchorage. The second northerly road goes northeast and eventually reaches Tok, the route that Beau and I had come on our trip to Anchorage.
Being late August, we took in the great Alaska State Fair, located on the road to Tok just south of Palmer and less than an hour drive from Anchorage.
The fair had a carnival atmosphere attracting people of all ages in interesting and colorful attire. |
We had seen pictures of the huge vegetables including the prize-winning pumpkins and squash weighing close to half a ton. They are products of the rich glacial soils of the Mat-Su Valley where Palmer and Wasilla are located.
Central Alaska's midnight sun and cool weather is also ideal for members of the Brassica family such as cabbages that have topped out over 100 pounds, as well as broccoli, cauliflower, rutabagas and turnips.
Enormous vegetables (turnips, cabbage, rhutabaga, and broccoli) at the Alaska State Fair. |
Palmer is also the home of a non-profit farm dedicated to the preservation of musk oxen, ancient-looking bearded animals related more closer to sheep than cattle. The musk ox is best known for its ultra fine down or underwool, called qiviut, a rare commodity that is collected, spun and knitted through the Musk Ox Producers' Co-operative. The crafts 'co-op' is formed of more than 200 First Nation women who work in their homes in tundra or coastal villages, producing scarves, caps and smokerings that have traditional signature knitting patterns and are eight times warmer than sheep wool.
Dog sled on the roof of a Wasilla home in August. |
Sarah Palin's hometown of Wasilla is also located an hour north of Anchorage, on the road that goes to Denali. Traveling through this town and also Palmer, you get a sense of what life must be like in winter when the snow allows for dog sled travel. Many of the homes store their sleds on the roofs of their houses as pictured on the right.
Mount McKinley, North American's highest peak (20,320 ft) on a rare cloudless day. |
McKinley on a partially-cloudy day. |
Park service buses transported visitors into the interior of Denali. |
Hills covered with willow shrubs and blue and soap berries were separated by large valleys with meandering "braided" rivers. |
One was a solitary male whose turquoise ear tag suggested that he had previously been tranquilized by darting, and examined by park rangers.
A large solitary male grizzly walking among the berry shrubs. |
A two-year-old cub with bright-red loose feces from a heavy berry diet |
We also saw a sow with two cubs as they feasted on berries seemingly disinterested in our presence.
One of the younger bear, probably a two-year-old because he was quite large yet still with his mother and sibling, showed the effects of a heavy berry diet.
Dogs are excised during the summer months using sleds with wheels attached. |
But nothing compared to to the trio of bear bums (sow with her two older cubs) walking away from us down the mountain road after their day's fill of berries.
After leaving the airport, Beau and I retraced our path from Anchorage through Palmer and the Wrangell Mountains to Tok, where we spent our last night in Alaska. We had barely reached Tok when my daughter called with the news that my 89-year-old mother had fallen at a bus stop in Toronto and broken her hip. My plans for a circuitous trip back through the northern Yukon and then south through British Columbia changed, and we headed home by a more direct route, even including the interstate after we reached the United States south of Winnipeg, Manitoba four days later.
We left Tok very early on our second morning and soon crossed the border back into Canada. Though much of the scenery was familiar, the days are much shorter now and the higher elevations in the Yukon were snow-covered.
On our way through Beaver Creek ten days earlier, I had noticed more than the usual roadside advertising for Buckshot Betty's Restaurant and Cabins. Though I'm not one for silly local fork lore, we were both in need of a breakfast break, so I pulled onto the spacious gravel apron and parked between two large RV's, each with miniature dogs barking at Beau through the closed windows.
I entered a cozy breakfast nook already inhabited by a large table overflowing with a dozen or more people with plates spilling over with pancakes, eggs and sausage. I patiently waited by the door for at least five minutes -- I didn't want to sit down until invited to do so -- when from the kitchen burst a larger than life person who could only be Betty herself, balancing another half dozen plates in one hand and two coffee pots in the other. She ordered me to sit down in the most colorful language I"d heard all trip, and reinforced her admonition with something about her not being my mother. When I told her I wanted takeout because a had my dog in the car, she replied without hesitation to "bring the mutt inside."
Beau and I had a delightful time with Betty, especially after the RV's left and it was just she and her assistant with the two of us. She is a legend in these parts and, as we left, she tucked a copy of the CD, "The Ballad of Buckshot Betty", under my arm.
'Buckshot Betty' and Beau in Beaver Creek, Yukon. |
Red fox along the Alaskan highway in the Yukon. |
Proprietor of the Kluane Museum of Natural History in Burwash Landing, with Beau |
An hour-long wait along the southern stretches of Kluane Lake due to blasting associated with new construction. |
Patience is a must requirement for travel on the Alaska Highway whether encountering long sections of road with pot holes the size of boulders, or extensive delays due to construction and the never-ending maintenance associated with extreme frost upheaval that occurs during the long winter months.
Almost two weeks earlier I had met truck-driver Jon at near the beginning of the Alaskan Highway. He warned me to drive carefully, especially around wild animals. "Don't drive like dumb-shit", he had said. Jon's words were prophetic on the evening of my second return day when I encountered a black bear sow and three small cubs. One of the cardinal rules is to never leave your vehicle to approach wild animals, and to beware of oncoming traffic.
Black Bear Sow and her Three Cubs in Northern British Columbia |
One of the three curious cubs beside the Alaska Highway |
The remainder or the trip was relatively uneventful and I was visiting my mother -- she had returned to her assisted-care facility several days earlier -- ten days after leaving Anchorage. Beau and I stayed in Toronto two more days and then returned to Ithaca.
After gassing and cleaning the jeep, I returned it to the Avis at the Ithaca airport the following morning. Thirty-five days and 10,049 miles after leaving Ithaca with my boy.
All photos are the property of the author, unless otherwise designated.


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Graphic Novel Friday - Alan Moore in Autumn
Alan Moore fans are rarely left wanting. The lauded comics super-genius frequently has a reissue or new work in the pipeline, but this fall sees an unprecedented amount of deluxe editions, new collections, and original works across multiple publishers' catalogues. Now is a great time to be a fan of Moore's--but maybe not the best time to be a collector's wallet.
Publisher Top Shelf recently released the second installment in Moore and artist Kevin O'Neill's League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: Century series, entitled 1969. It's a trippy, confounding adventure, full of sex, drugs, and rock n' roll and plenty of text in a backmatter essay that's sure to please die-hards. For readers looking to catch up on LoEG stories before embarking on the brand-new Century quests, DC Comics will let loose an omnibus of previously released Gentlemen material in November.
Fans of Alan Moore's creator-owned ABC Universe will be thrilled at the announcement that Absolute Promethea Book Three will release in December after being slightly delayed. It's the final Absolute edition in Moore and artist J.H. Williams III's apocalyptic epic. No word yet on how the oversized, slip-cased edition will collect the fold-out, poster-forming final issue, but early word is that it will also collect Tom Strong issue #36, which is a direct tie-in to Promethea's finale (and will be the first Absolute-sized presentation of Chris Sprouse's artwork). Speaking of Tom Strong, the second volume of the spin-off series, Tom Strong's Terrific Tales, will finally have a paperback release in October.
Without spoiling too much--if you've read DC's Brightest Day event (the final volume released this month), then be sure to watch for Vertigo's classy hardcover release of Saga of the Swamp Thing Book 6, the final book in the newly collected Swamp Thing series. Here, Swamp Thing ponders one of Moore's favorite subjects: the cosmos. Appropriately scheduled for a late October release, this volume mixes horror with outerspace exploration, and it concludes one of the most revered runs in Moore's catalogue.
Moore explores the horror he writes so well and takes it to the nth degree in Neonomicon; Avatar Press will present the first-ever collection in simultaneous hardcover and paperback releases this November. The series gained notoriety in single issues when a comic shop in Florida refused to carry the comics due to the graphic nature contained therein. I'm not sure I have the stomach for it--who am I kidding? This is brand-new Alan Moore material, which makes it a must read, even if I have to leave all the lights on when I do.
I've also never read Alan Moore's Future Shocks stories, and UK publisher 2000AD will rectify that by thankfully collecting The Complete Alan Moore Future Shocks in November. Culled from his early career, these stories are described as featuring "twist endings"--and at over 208 pages, that makes for plenty of surprises.
For more on these books as well as Alan Moore's entire bibliography, fans' holiday wishlists should include Alan Moore: Storyteller, a beautiful hardcover released in July. Written by Gary Spencer Millidge, the book chronicles Moore's career, series by series, with plenty of photographs, scripts and full-color covers and interior images from various books and esoteric Moore projects. It evens includes a CD of the writer's music, and Michael Moorcock provides a lengthy foreword.


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