Starting out.
North to Alaska V – Finale
Mrs. Animal and I have been planning this for twenty years. We’re now at the light at the end of the tunnel stage. Here is the final installment of the story of our planned move from Colorado to Alaska.
The Trip
Driving the Alaska Highway has been on Mrs. Animal’s and my bucket list for a long time, and one day I hope to do it in nicer weather, without a trailer. Most of this post, however, will be written and pictorial documentation of our 3,200-mile drive, not only on the Alaska Highway proper, which is less than half the total distance, but on the rest of the journey as well, and then some thoughts on the time spent since. So: Enjoy.
Day 1, March 27th – Aurora, CO to Shelby, MT
I’ve been telling people that moving from Colorado to Alaska is like moving from New York to San Diego, only everything between the Appalachians and the Rockies are a different country. It’s a considerable undertaking.
This first leg was mildly interesting. Some of it was country we had seen before, but on leaving Casper on the road north we were in terra incognita (to us, at least) which would remain the case until we hit Glenallen, Alaska. That’s a good thing, as both Mrs. Animal and I enjoy seeing new country. Northern Wyoming and central Montana are both mostly cut from the same cloth, though, and it’s a pretty spare cloth. We enjoyed the drive but there was little about it really memorable.
But at the end of the first day of our journey, we landed on the closest U.S. town to the border: Shelby, Montana. That put us within an hour of the border, so we went to sleep early, intending to get up, get moving, and get to the entry station by 8AM, as the Kung Flu and our possession of firearms and ammunition was sure to make crossing into Canada a considerable task.
Day 2, March 28th – Shelby, MT to Dawson Creek, BC
We were admitted to Canada by this guy.
As planned, we hit the border at 8AM. A precautionary note for anyone considering such a crossing, especially now while Canada remains locked down as tight as a bull’s ass in fly season: Do your homework. We showed up with negative COVID results from less than 72 hours previous, as demanded; we had all the Canadian paperwork for household goods inventory as well as the firearms and ammunition we carried through. If you’re thinking of carrying firearms into Canada, makes sure they are in the “Unrestricted” list, or you’re not going to have much luck; all of our guns that are “Restricted” or “Prohibited” in Canada had already gone north, courtesy of United Airlines.
We were complemented several times on our high level of preparedness, but the process still took two hours. While we were told repeatedly that the border folks had the right to demand we unload truck and trailer for inspection, we were let go on our way without that. But we were told that we probably would not have been allowed in at all had we not already had Alaska plates on truck and trailer, Alaska driver’s licenses, and a copy of the deed of trust to our Alaska home.
Our final step in that process was a briefing on Kung Flu restrictions. “Here is a pass to hang on your vehicle’s rear-view mirror. You can only do drive-through food,” the Border Control officer told us. “Don’t get caught coming out of a store with stuff you’ve bought.” (wink) I didn’t ask about using the bathrooms; on that topic I figured I’d best be able to plead ignorance. “Stay in your hotel rooms after you check in. Stay on the most direct route. You have five days to get through to Alaska, but if you have a breakdown or are delayed by weather, call the number on your hanger, let us know, and we’ll note it in your record, so you don’t have any trouble with that. Firearms must stay locked in your trailer.” All of that went on for some time as Mrs. Animal and I stood there nodding.
At last, that was done, and we were cleared to proceed. After taking another Kung Flu cheek-swab test, we headed into the Great White North.
Alberta isn’t much to write home about. Over vast stretches of that province, you are much like a particularly tiny bug crossing a vast plate. Around Calgary we hit the only traffic slowdowns of the entire trip, and it was there that we encountered the first issue with our entry briefing: We needed gas, so I pulled into a Canadian gas station and dismounted, card in hand, to find a sign on the pump:
Alberta.
U.S. Customers Must Come Inside to Pay.
I went inside, figuring that I couldn’t get in trouble if I could buy gas no other way. Turns out that the company’s card-processing software required an actual signature from U.S. customers. I mentioned the “pay at the pump” warning we had received; the clerk replied, “Oh, yeah, we know about that, eh. Nobody much past the border gives a care.”
All righty then. I noticed the snack rack. “OK if I buy some all-dressed chips while I’m here?” I love those things, and you don’t seem to be able to get them outside of Canada.
“Sure thing, buddy.” So, I did.
This first leg of the trip across Canada was the longest, as our goal was to hit the entrance point to the Alaska Highway proper that night, and, despite hitting a spot of snowy weather in northern Alberta, we did so, arriving at Dawson Creek, British Columbia, about 9PM.
And I’ll note this here: During the entire crossing, we only encountered one gas station where pay-at-the-pump was an option, that being in Fort Nelson, BC, on the next leg of the trip. Everywhere else we had to go inside to pay, and usually ended up buying drinks and snacks. We both recalled the border guy’s warning: “Don’t get caught coming out of a store.” (wink)
Day 3, March 29th – Dawson Creek, BC to Watson Lake, YT
Along the road in British Columbia.
Here the Alaska Highway itself begins.
Again, you want to do your homework before attempting this drive. There are miles and miles of miles and miles along the Alaska Highway with no facilities of any kind. When you leave Dawson Creek, you hit Ft. St. John pretty quickly, then a few small towns before the highway turns into a strip of asphalt through a howling wilderness. There are few cell phone towers and fewer gas stations. We followed the rule ‘don’t pass a gas station if you’re at half a tank or less,’ even though Mrs. Animal’s big Expedition has a 28-gallon tank and, even pulling the trailer, a pretty good range.
This first stretch of wild country winds up into the Canadian Rockies, where we spent a fair amount of time on snow-packed roads, this being the last week of March. It’s a beautiful drive, but not one to take lightly, especially at that time of year.
After the first stretch, you enter a big basin, in the middle of which sits Fort Nelson, where we tanked up again. The second long wild stretch climbs into the mountains again, which lasts until you approach the border with the Yukon Territory and actually wind in and out of that Territory before arriving at last at the little town of Watson Lake.
On our arrival at that town, signage directed us to a territorial entry station, where we had to fill out a card describing our vehicle, plate numbers, names of passengers, point of entry into Canada and destination. We were advised that we had twenty-four hours to get our asses out of the Yukon. With that on our minds, we tanked up on gas at an old gas station with ancient mechanical pumps – so again, as with pretty much the entire trip, paying at the pump was not an option – and checked into the town’s one open motel for the night.
This was a pretty stretch in late winter. I expect in summer it’s gorgeous. In fact, I expect this is the most scenic portion of the trip in good weather, and my itchy feet were bugging me to take side roads, but that wouldn’t have been an option even in a non-Kung Flu world; not with the truck full of computer hardware and the trailer attached. So, it was the straight and narrow path for us.
Day 4, March 30th –Watson Lake, YT to Tok, AK
Destruction Bay
With the Territory’s admonition to hurry up and get out fresh in our minds, and never being ones to stay where we’re not welcome, we headed out early.
On this stretch you once again travel on a ribbon of asphalt through wilderness much of the way, but at mid-afternoon we hit Whitehorse, a city of some size, and then proceeded back into the countryside. We stopped to take some photos at Destruction Bay, which not only has an awesome name but, judging from appearances, a fair amount of summer tourism. We added this place to our list of places to visit in summer if Canada ever opens back up for visitors.
Interestingly enough, it is on this stretch of the Alaska Highway where you finally cross the Continental Divide. Yes, that far west.
Around four in the afternoon, we cleared Canadian Customs at Beaver Creek, which process consisted of handing in our mirror hanger and being told to proceed directly to the border without stopping. We did so, and I admit by this point we were anxious to get the hell out of Canada.
On arrival at the U.S. entry station the officer there examined our Alaska driver’s licenses and asked one question: “Any firearms or ammo?” I handed him the lists we had prepped for Canada, and he asked one more question: “What’s this Tolley shotgun? Never heard of them.” I explained that it was a hand-made one of a kind piece made in Birmingham, England, in 1892.
“Huh,” he said. “Sounds cool. OK, welcome home.” And on that note, we proceeded to leave Canada in the rear-view mirror.
It was great to be back in the States. When we arrived in Tok, we went to the Three Bears store for gas and something for supper and were bemused at how relaxed everything was – no masks, no worries about six-foot intervals, no hairy eyeballs at our Alaska plates. We immediately felt much relieved and retired that night knowing the next day should see us home.
This was our first visit to Tok, by the way, and even though medical and recreational cannabis are legal in Alaska, there was no outlet for either in Tok. I’d figure that if one town in Alaska would have a weed shop, it would be Tok (pronounced ‘Toke.’)
On Arrival.
Day 5, March 31st – Tok, AK to Willow, AK
Here we leave the Alaska Highway for the Glenallen Highway, which will take us eventually to Palmer, Wasilla, and the Parks Highway, which is the last leg of this long, strange trip.
We left Tok while it was snowing. It snowed all the way to Glenallen, where we were finally again on familiar ground. At Glenallen we stopped for drinks and asked the clerk about the weather. He had info from a trucker who had passed by earlier that the snow only lasted until about Glacier View, so we hurried back to the truck and headed out.
As promised, the climb to Glacier View was snowy but after that, things cleared up. We traveled on mostly snowy roads to Glacier View, then on mostly wet roads to Palmer, finally on mostly dry roads to Wasilla. There we filled the truck with gas one last time, found a car wash to hose the trip’s accumulation of gunk from the wintertime Alaska Highway off the truck and trailer, and at last headed out of Wasilla for Willow and home.
We arrived at about one o’clock in the afternoon, at our snow-covered house in Alaska. I backed the trailer up to the back door, and the balance of the day was spent unloading. But by suppertime, that was done, the trailer parked, the truck stashed in the garage, and we enjoyed our first evening in the house that was at last our primary residence.
The Aftermath
Arriving safe and sound was only the penultimate step. We had hauled a trailer-load of stuff up, but still had most of our crap back in Colorado. So, about ten days after our arrival in the Great Land, Mrs. Animal boarded a plane back to Colorado to prep for the moving company and get the house there ready for sale. I flew back once, over a weekend, to help get my workshop sorted out and packed up.
April and May were a couple of long months, with my dear Mrs. A down there, working her tail off to get that house ready for sale, and me up here, cleaning up as the place emerged from unusually heavy winter snows and trying to plan what would eventually go where. But then, on the first week of June, all the Colorado work was done, household goods packed and on the way to Alaska, the house listed, and finally Mrs. Animal returned. A few days later our various lares and penates arrived, and at last all our stuff is again in one place.
Home at Last
Home.
And now, here we are.
I’m more at peace with myself here than I have been since I was a kid back in Allamakee County. I still have work to do on the place, and we have a hell of a lot of unpacking and organizing to do. I will still have to keep my business running a while longer to set up my retirement. But those are minor details.
As I write this, Mrs. Animal is back home, and our house is full of boxes. We are slowly unpacking and figuring what goes where, and while we cut down on our possessions quite a lot, we are still moving into a house about half the size of the one we are vacating, so there is some organizing to be done. At least now the snow is gone, and we are in the full bloom of a beautiful (and mosquito-rich) Alaska summer, which reminds us of why we came here.
And that’s the big thing: We’re here at last. After all the years of planning, of saving, of researching, the airline trips, all that – we’re here at last. Here, in this house, on this little plot of Alaskan land out in the sticks, I can now see, very clearly, all the long, happy, golden years stretching out before us.
Home, in Alaska, at last.
Canada sounds like a lot of fun. *eyeroll*
It actually is, if you’re not being forced to run a gauntlet by Those Who Lord Over Us.
And if you’re talking about the above-described border rigamarole, that’s largely luck of the draw (amplified, in this case, by non-rational ‘Vid fear). I’ve met officious assholes in uniform on both sides of the border, as well as chill officers. You tolerate the one, and thank God for the other.
I’ve never been as aggravated at any Canadian border officer as I have the American ones. And I even had one Canuck that wanted to bounce me out of the country.
I can honestly say that the worst experience I’ve had at any entry point other than Checkpoint Charlie (and I think that was just for show to scare us), was in Toronto. The Canucks seemed to be quite pissy in 2002, perhaps as retribution for the American behavior over the previous year.
Nice!
Congrats on a fulfilled plan and happy destination!
Congratulations, Animal.
I’m happy for you guys!
“And that’s the big thing: We’re here at last. After all the years of planning, of saving, of researching, the airline trips, all that – we’re here at last. Here, in this house, on this little plot of Alaskan land out in the sticks, I can now see, very clearly, all the long, happy, golden years stretching out before us.”
Beautiful summary of your journey in those few sentences.
While maybe not Alaska, we hope to be making a similar journey, with a similar outcome here in the next few years.
Same thoughts. Along with Suthen’s observations on Canada.
Thanks Animal!
SO happy to hear that! “At peace with [your]self” is what I would wish for every Glib.
That’s the line that jumped out at me. Congrats, Animal.
As a desert creature, I can only say of the drive “Holy crap, that looks cold.”
Congrats. I’m glad you’re getting what you planned for. Also happy you survived the trek through the UKSR (Union of Kanuckistani Socialist Republics).
Congrats Animal.
Congratulations Animal. I am very pleased to hear about this. We have achieved our retirement and are very happy with it. I hope you and Mrs. Animal achieve the same happiness we have.
Maybe less injuries though…
Yep. That’s some crap, isn’t it? I need to put some reflective tape on that damned wheelchair.
Its a great life ahead for the two of you, live it!
That’s a lot of snow
Also, watch out for the vampires.
Thank you, Animal. Your account brings back many a road trip, including the one we took in Europe.
Peace (and no-drama) is highly underrated. Enjoy!
“We were admitted to Canada by this guy.”
Huh. I wonder why every time I go there, it’s some harpy shrew named whatever Karen is in Canuckistani.
I have vague memories of when I first began to learn about how authoritarian Canada is. I may not have these anecdotes exactly right. One was an American author that had written something the Canadians did not like. His books were banned and he was forbidden to enter the country. Another was a public figure of some kind that had said something Canada did not like outside the country. Upon arrival to Canada he was detained and questioned for hours about his opinions. That has been decades ago, I can only imagine what it is like now.
Correction: Not Canadians. It was the Canadian Government.
The Canadian government of course elected by the majority of Canadians, so it must be what the majority of them want.
Sure, we’ll run with that explanation.
Now do Biden.
You guys fortify elections up there, too?
I’m sure we do. ’Cepting our “fortifiers” all graduated from Upper Canada College and are members of the Empire Club. ?
The question of who holds power is far too important to be left to the unwashed masses.
If you were admitted to Canada by that guy, I’m surprised you were admitted to Canada at all. The average RCMP officer at the border stations doesn’t know jack-shit about what is and is not allowed in Canada, and frequently finds him/herself going, cap in hand, to the nearest CBSA agent to ask “Can they actually bring that stuff in here?”
The CBSA agents, on the other hand, actually know the law.
It was a mix at this station. The guy who interviewed us and (I suspect) made the final decisions was a CBSA guy and actually pretty friendly. He quietly expressed some frustration with his higher-ups (“We don’t know from one day to the next what we’re supposed to be doing as far as letting people through”) and waved the younger Mountie-looking guys off when they asked if we should be made to unload for inspection.
The CBSA agents, do, in fact, make the final decisions. It’s their wheelhouse. The RCMP are “backup” in case something goes seriously south, which is why our border agents have now been armed for about a decade; they got tired of calling on (and frequently waiting for) the RCMP to get their rears in gear when there was a problem during a stop/inspection, and petitioned the Feds to get strapped.
I received my firearms mandatory training from a CBSA supervisor; vastly superior to the stories I hear about the RCMP-administered training, and the CBSA guy (who’d been shooting sidearms recreationally in Canada for about 30 years) was more “philosophical” about the firearms laws in Canada. I liked him a lot.
Enjoyed reading your story, Animal. Once I was interviewed in Russian while entering Canada. I would have been less surprised if I had to do it in French.
My paranoia is such that, with the prohibition on leaving your car to get food, I would have made sure I paid cash.
We did.
Visa and Mastercard now reporting American snack food violators to the RCMP!
I wouldn’t want to bet that they aren’t.
Yup.
*passes the roll of tin foil*
All-Dressed Ruffles (yum) are plentiful in the far SW of the lower 48.
Mazel Tov!
“We’ll get those criminals on the next pass through here! They are likely Kinder Egg smugglers too.”
If it weren’t for those darn kids, I would have gotten away with it too!
“Kinder Egg Smugglers”
Avant Garde german trance band?
Or the new name for men’s bikini underwear ?
Why not both?
“Come ladies, the toy is on the inside.”
Congrats, Animal, on your forever home.
As usual, a story told with great style. Congrats on the resettlement and many happy years to you, sourdough.
Happy Days, Animal.
I’ve often heard that native Alaskans say about people that move from the lower 48, “they’re either moving TO something, or from something”.
Based on your years of planning, sounds like the former.
Little column A, little column B, but mostly, yes, the former. Although if I said I wasn’t happy to get the hell out of Colorado I’d be lying.
I loved Colorado back in November of 2002 when I visited; I’m sorry to see it’s changed for the worse since then.
The rot had already begun in the late Eighties when I first moved there. We had a bit of hope in the Nineties – Bill Owens was Governor, the Republicans held the legislature for a while until the Colorado GOP formed the circular firing squad they’ve been in ever since.
But now, it’s all gone. Colorado’s gone blue and looks like it will stay that way.
It’s too bad, because it’s a beautiful place. I’ll still go back to go hunting with loyal sidekick Rat most days, but I sure won’t ever move back.
It is impossible to overstate the damage that having useful idiots flood into a state does. I have watched it happen over and over.
Happens everywhere, called progress. I no longer recognize any names from the ‘old families’ anymore.
My neighbor says we are the only “Old Timers” left that knew everyone and their kids that rode the school bus. Life goes on…
*most years, not most days, obviously.
So you are saying I won’t help tilt the balance, huh?
You’re in roughly the same boat I’m in. Since I’m in NJ just about any state with just a handful of exceptions is going to be better.
So you have at least “upgraded” here.
Everywhere – except for maybe Alaska – is fucked up. I am moving West to see my kids more often and have a new adventure. I have no delusions about the political situation
The key will be to build your own small groups of cool people. If the shit truly hits the fan, most of us are fucked anyway. I’m going to enjoy my family and fly fishing. Maybe even fly fishing with my family.
Maybe even fly fishing with my family.
Let’s not be hasty.
I can drink & fish. Bank fishing, boat fishing, even in some waders (tho they’re likely to get flooded).
Cant drink and fly-fish. Im guessing that requires coke or meth.
Years ago, a buddy of mine tried to teach me how to use a fly rod. After an hour or so in the attempt, he told me, and I quote, that I “…looked like an old lady trying to kill a bat with a broomstick.”
I went happily back to my spinning tackle and have used it ever since.
Cant drink and fly-fish
I got you covered
I too showed up in Colorado in the late 1980s. It’s…. changed.
Congrats again, Animal. It does sound like a dream come true. Glad you and the Mrs. are happy.
Good read, glad you were able to get thru Canadian customs fairly easily. The company I work for has a manufacturing plant in Montreal so I have travelled there several times. The worst part is going thru Canadian customs – they seem to enjoy hassling Americans. I screwed up my first visit and said I was their to attend a meeting for work (the truth). That answer got me hauled off to an interrogation room and a 90 minute delay before I was able convince the customs official that I would not be performing any actual work. Lesson learned – sight seeing is always the right answer to that question. It has been a few years since my last visit but I was surprised by the number of heavily armed, uniformed soldiers/police patrolling the airport with dogs.
When I’ve gone to Canada for work meetings, I’ve always said so and had zero hassle.
Using the word “work” in the answer of the purpose of your visit question is likely to generate unwanted attention from a customs official- at least at the Montreal airport. Just my anecdotal experience.
A company I worked for had Proctor & Gamble as a client, and they have a manufacturing facility in ON. Ditto for GE.
The few times we went there to test, all the equipment was shipped marked as “training materials” as I recall. Our answers at the border were “we’re here to fish, gamble, and drink, eh”
F-up and make a comment that “oh, we’re here for work” and I heard they get really pissy.
Shouldn’t they direct their ire at the Canadian company that hires you?
Id have to look but Im pretty sure both GE and P&G and US corporations. They just have an international presence.
I used to do IT consulting in the U.S. from time-to-time. Their border patrol officers didn’t seem to think that directing their ire at the U.S. company that hired me would be a good use of their valuable time.
On the other hand, I was a visible, live target that was trapped in a little space-time pocket of the U.S. right inside Edmonton International where my legal rights were, as one officer put it to me rather curtly, “precisely zero.” You learn to shut up and take it really quick.
Pissy? They’ll deny entrance. A few times, our U.S. techs got caught when they said they were coming up to train their Canadian counterparts.
Proper answer is “we are here to be shown some glorious new technology you hosers have made and that we are interested in purchasing.”
“We understand you have the created the Ultimate Hockey Puck”
Last time I flew into Edmonton it was an amazingly chill experience. The customs dudes were excellent and overly polite. I mean, come on, there was a lovely older couple waiting for us at the gate to take care of us. I love Canada.
Montreal might be a different story.
Glad you had a good experience, T. Edmonton International’s an interesting test case, since it’s also home to the on-the-job training component for new hires to the CBSA. There’s a high proportion of wet-behind-the-ears agents at EIA.
It has been a few years since my last visit but I was surprised by the number of heavily armed, uniformed soldiers/police patrolling the airport with dogs.
We get a lot of overseas/U.S. travelers into Canada who’ve bought into the “hippie-dippie” view some of them seem to have of our country, and they bring, um, problems with them. Plus, you were in Montreal, surrounded by the French, some of whom have a slobbering love of the armed technocratic State and a concomitant distaste for Les Americains. I’ve seen exactly the same thing when disembarking at Charles de Gaulle (although the CDG security had fully-automatic weapons and did not appear to be old enough to shave).
At Calgary and Edmonton airports, security is there, but on the down-low except for international arrivals from known hot-spots for troublesome travelers. Vancouver’s the same way. And of course, it’s partly a response to American insistence that we intercept potential problems before they get to U.S. Border Control in our airports, since the U.S. is one of the only countries I know of that have such controls outside of their own borders. That’s gotta be expensive to maintain.
To be fair to Canada you can run into problems entering any country. Most of my travel has been to poor countries so when they looked at me all they saw was tourist dollars. I dont recall even having to go through customs in Bolivia.
The only foreign countries I’ve been to are Ireland and the Bahamas. They were both quite casual about security.
Even in Rome we were just waived through. They didn’t even check our passports. My wife had to ask for a stamp!
The late 90s were a good time to have the blue passport.
I screwed up my first visit and said I was their to attend a meeting for work (the truth).
That was my mistake as well.
All of this makes Canada sound like a place I want to avoid like a case of the clap.
I dont even like to leave Louisiana anymore.
Why ? If you catch the clap, a shot in the ass will make it go away.
If you catch Canada, then you want a VAT & GST tax, you have to watch Trailer Park Boys, and listen to Trudeau.
Don’t get pulled over there.
I was expecting this gem.
I forgot the joys of having to provide French language versions of any software running on the company’s computer system for French speaking employees that requests it. Provided a French language version exists.
I got a bit of a hassle from one RCMP guy who kept asking me about the guns I owned and was I sure I hadn’t brought one along.
But the absolute worst have been the USians. Apparently entering from Quebec with a NY DL and a BMW with TX plates makes them think you’re…. something. Wanted to know if I had the receipt from my hotel with me. What gifts had I purchased, and why did I think they were appropriate gifts? And cycled through all the questions at least three times as if to see if I would change my story.
Thar’s yer problem.
I had no hassle from the canukistanis in my dumpy Ford. I had more hassle from the US border guard because I couldn’t recall the exact name of the border crossing I’d used to enter canada. But she eventually got bored of me and let me continue.
It was very difficult to omit the “mother fucker” from the “no, I don’t have my hotel receipt, I had no idea it would be required to get back home.”
What happens if they refuse to let you back in? Do you have to go to the consulate and appeal? Does Canada have to give you citizenship?
Land of the Free
“I slept in my car because canadians don’t use real money.”
Great travel trip, Animal. We made that drive about 25 years ago but in August/September. The snow looked like a different experience.
I’m happy for you, that you achieved your goal. We were about your age when we made the drive.
I have often said if I was 35 years old Alaska would have called me. I envy your youth and your dedication. Enjoy your retirement, the years go so quickly.
My g’daughter/husband are here from Galena, they signed on for another year there and plan at least five years. I’m sending them back with a truck, 2 shotguns, enough reloading stuff for a hunting lifetime. Mrs F unloaded some of her cherished (and unused) kitchen appliances.
Keep us up-to-date with your new adventures as they happen. It’s been a great trip traveling with you
Wish we’d been there to greet you on arrival.
To drag over a response to Alex’s comment from the morning lynx about dating a woman that wanted to get punched in the face during sex-
That’s 1 scenario of what happened to Barbie’s friend Wheelchair Rebecca.
*likely NSFW
I am happy for you and yours.
I went to Montreal once in the middle 2000s for an industry meeting. I don’t remember any hassles at immigration and customs coming through the airport from the US.
I was lucky that my Montreal experience was in 1997/98 with two Can/Am tournaments there so none of the crazy post 9/11 crap and overall very fun city for a bunch of 18 year old Californians.
They truly hate America.
One big problem, Winston concluded after that 2017 presentation, was that single-family zoning restricted apartments—and the people who rent them—to just 16 percent of Charlotte’s residential land. “The task force gave me the language,” he told me. “You could see it, you could feel it, but I didn’t have the vernacular to talk about this.”
Now he does. Four years later, Winston is a city councilman and one of the most vocal advocates for the policy that Charlotte approved last week: abolishing single-family zoning. Charlotte’s Comprehensive Plan prescribes legalizing duplexes and triplexes citywide, giving more people more access to more types of housing in more neighborhoods, and undoing a policy originally intended to circumvent the Supreme Court’s ban on racial zoning by keeping renters out. “When you learn about land use, what you can put where, you see the way the map has been set up intentionally suppresses the supply,” Winston said. “Single-family zoning is one of the chief weights put on the scale to ensure the de facto segregated city that we live in.”
Oh, Slate! You naughty vixen! You left out the best part!
“Winston, who is Black, had been doing some soul-searching of his own since the 2016 death of Keith Lamont Scott, a 43-year-old Black father of seven killed by Charlotte police while waiting to pick his son up from the school bus. Why didn’t Scott live in a place he could walk his kids to school? Why did the police always show up armed and ready for conflict?
From Wiki:
“Keith Lamont Scott, a 43-year-old African-American man, was fatally shot on September 20, 2016, in Charlotte, North Carolina, by Brentley Vinson, an African-American city police officer.”
Its so segregated that the black cops shoot the black residents.
Also, “In November 2016, county prosecutors decided not to charge Vinson, concluding that the shooting was justified.”
Shush!
Your facts are racist.
If I’m reading correctly, my family was oppressed when I was a child since I rode a bus to school.
Most homes are not within walking distance of a school.
Even where those homes are, the school may not be fit for purpose.
I had to ride the bus because we got transfered to another school in the district since those closest to us were absolute shit, even by the low standards of a city school in upstate new york.
What’s the argument, minorities couldn’t possibly own a single-family house? They couldn’t cover rent on one?
Only whites can do that? Correction: only whites, Indians, Asians, and the like.
That’s the cover. The real goal is to destroy SFHs and force people into apartment buildings in the name of densification, and make life unpleasant for those who want to continue in a SFH. It wasn’t working before, but now they can label opponents as racists and hive off those who buy into white guilt.
Not to pull a Winston, but in theory, don’t libertarians generally decry zoning laws?
I understand they want to force out single-family homes. That is a problem.
But the onerous regulations/zoning in San Francisco against multi-family housing has been oft-discussed here.
So, am I missing some principle about this OTHER THAN the deliberate obliteration of single-family zoning?
If they just did away with zoning laws, it’d be fine but they would like to go the other way – they would forbid single-family homes.
They don’t want to just kill large neighborhoods of single-family residences; they want to MANDATE mixed used neighborhoods everywhere. Because sprawl is evil; because cars are evil; because people cannot be allowed to self-segregate into neighborhoods of people similar classes (except for POC who can exclude anyone they want).
It is about destroying the {white, middle-class} American dream. Period.
There is also the “as written” and “as applied” problem.
They are saying single-family housing is inherently racist. Even if the rules are written to merely “allow” muti-family buildings, do you really think that people who think single-family housing is racist are going to gavel through every application for single-family housing? What this will do is “allow” Our Masters in the city government to require multi-family housing, especially in new developments. Existing single-family neighborhoods probably won’t change until they get to the point of having “tear-downs” and new buildings put up. But those new buildings will be multi-family, if Our Masters have anything to say about it.
Which has more profit in it, SFH or a multi family building? The large developers are completely on board with this.
From what I can tell, the most profitable type of residential development is single-family homes. I’m not in the biz, but from what I can tell, developers have to be ordered to include multi-family buildings when they are proposing a new single-family development. That multi-family building may be profitable, but it will drive down the value of the nearby single-family homes.
The Bee:
Athlete So Oppressed By America That She’s Representing America In The Olympics
I swear, SF writes the closing lines for these guys.
Berry is in that special class of athletes that compete for biggest asshole on the field.
If you hate the country so much that you can’t tolerate hearing the anthem, then why the fuck are you competing to represent it?
Personal glory not national pride.
Then don’t take the national money.
I’d say money, but I can’t imagine “Female Hammer-Throw” is a high revenue sport.
If she’s a world class hammer-thrower, what are the odds she has any other marketable skills, other than fetish model. Which would pay a whole lot better, now that I think about it.
She’s the sort of racist scum that are promoting racist policies to prove there’s systemic racism (and there is now because they put it there).
Congrats to you and Mrs Animal! Beginnings of another fine adventure.
Mr. Mojeaux just won $250 in pizza from a local pizza parlor just now. His winning tweet? “Yes to pineapple on Hawaiian pizza.”
#winning
? ? ? ?
“What is the name of the Lone Ranger’s nephew’s horse?” 😉
Victor.
(Or is that some joke I’m missing?)
(Missing ALL the things today!)
Aside from the Xmas Story reference, nothing. Didn’t you say that the mister likes to enter contests?
Yes. That’s his hobby.
So he married you and he also appears to be the luckiest guy I’ve ever heard of?
There’s a lesson somewhere in there for you. A rather flattering one, I might add. ;-)
He keeps saying he’s the luckiest one (because he got me), but I got him and he puts up with me, so I feel like I’m the luckiest one.
Give Mr. Mojeaux an internet high-five from me…
While I’m pretty solidly anti-pineapple on pizza, I cannot find any fault in that sentiment. Yes, pineapple does belong on Hawaiian pizza, that’s definitionally part of the recipe. But it should stay off of all other pizzas.
Also, congrats on the free pizza. Depending on your pizza place’s prices, that $250 could provide a lot of free pizza, which is always good. Even if it has pineapple on it.
You are many adventurous and much brave, Animal. Congratulations.
“And that’s the big thing: We’re here at last. After all the years of planning, of saving, of researching, the airline trips, all that – we’re here at last. Here, in this house, on this little plot of Alaskan land out in the sticks, I can now see, very clearly, all the long, happy, golden years stretching out before us.”
This gave me goosebumps. Love hearing good peoples dreams coming true.
Not a big commenter here but ive read all of your installments with fascination. God bless you guys.
🙁 Just looked in the mirror (there are far too many in hotel rooms for some ungodly reason) and my face, neck and arms are all red from exposure to the outside.
I was serious when I said I don’t tan. Maybe that was GT’s evil scheme – poison me with sunlight.
::check own rosy nose and red arms from going sleeveless in back yard:: If so, it was a murder-suicide.
Well done, Animal. One of these years I will make my escape from the People’s Republic of New Jersey. Where, you ask? Well, just about anywhere will be an improvement.
As predicted in California:
How somebody who commutes is supposed to “pre-charge” their Tesla before 6 p.m. is, clearly, of no concern to California’s utility regulators.
*grabs popcorn*
I’d laugh, but…
who the fuck am I kidding?
*laughs ass off*
*joins in*
All about normalizing outages and removing the quaint notion of reliability.
Well, they just need to get a second one, charge one every other day while at work, and make sure they don’t work more than a few feet from home, since traffic will be an issue.
Get a gasoline generator and charge the electric vehicle by burning more gasoline than driving.
Have you seen the price of gas these days? Get a steam engine to drive the dynamo.
Water wheel would be a good idea except it’s Cali.
Just get the homeless to pee on it…
There’s at least a couple of people that will do just that.
Charge up the EV to drive to the gas station to fill gas cans to run the generator to charge the EV.
The new perpetual motion machine.
The new perpetual
motionspending machine.FTFY.
Ayup
I’d laugh, but my power just went out at home. Likely a hot transmission wire sagged into a tree due to heat.
Rick Beato is worse than heroin.
What Makes This Song Great? (Limelight)
Beato’s a great, enthusiastic expositor of music. I’ve learned a lot from him.
Yes, I have been spending way too much time listening to his videos recently.
Congratulations Animal! This place sounds good. It’s a shame Canada was such a pain in the ass.