Preparing for the Road North
July 22, 2026
The rain had been heavy for the past few days, and today the wind joined in. I woke at a quiet pullout about a mile off the road and, surrounded by the trees, never noticed how strong it was. It had rained all night, and there was almost no traffic on the dirt road where I had parked. I left around 8:30, and as soon as I drove out from the shelter of the woods, I could immediately feel the wind pushing against the van.
I was driving north to Anchorage, about a three-hour trip. Along the way I noticed the van felt unusually soft, partly because of the high winds. I pulled over, checked the suspension settings, and switched them to the firm setting for highway driving and high winds. The difference was immediately noticeable.
I stopped to make breakfast and eventually arrived in Anchorage around noon. Before continuing farther north, I made a list of supplies I needed and spent the afternoon shopping.
By 6:30 p.m., I still hadn't found everything I was looking for, so I decided to call it a day and have a good meal. I ended up at South Restaurant + Coffeehouse. I tried to keep it light with a fresh summer salad, a local chocolate stout, and a bowl of ice cream. I was fine until the ice cream. I found a quiet table in the corner where I was able to send emails and catch up on a few things online.
Over the next several weeks I would be heading north toward Talkeetna, Denali, Fairbanks, and eventually the Arctic Circle. A couple of days earlier I had begun hearing a noise from the right rear wheel whenever I applied the brakes. It was either a worn brake pad or perhaps a small stone caught somewhere in the braking system. Since I was already in Anchorage, I decided it was time to have it checked. That would become tomorrow's goal.
By 10 p.m., I had found a place to park on a quiet street near a park. When I arrived there were already two other vehicles there—a European camper van and a small pickup with a rooftop tent. There was a surprising amount of activity. Cars kept pulling in, groups of young people would get out, and I overheard them talking about walking down to the beach. I hadn't even realized I was that close to the water. I was asleep by 11:30.
July 23, 2026
I arrived at Kendall Ford of Anchorage around 6:50 a.m., just before the gate was unlocked. I quickly realized the van wouldn't fit through the service bay doors, so I parked off to the side. More vehicles lined up behind me, and at 7:00 the service doors opened. It turned into one of the stranger customer service experiences I've had.
I walked to a separate service desk, and the man behind the counter simply stared at me. I said, "Good morning," and received no response. No "How can I help you?" Just silence. After a few awkward seconds, I realized I was going to have to start the conversation myself. "I'm here to have an issue checked on my 2023 Ford Transit van.", I said. That finally got us moving through the script. He collected my information, documented the problem, and about ten minutes later said, "I have an opening next Thursday at 2 p.m." That was a week away, and I already had reservations farther north. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to recommend anyone else who might be able to help.
The rest of the morning was spent calling and driving to independent repair shops. Roughly a third of the places I tried were out of business. Those that were still operating either didn't work on Fords, were booked for months, or looked more like junkyards than repair shops. Most were single-bay garages without lifts large enough for the van.
I finished the rest of my errands. Some of the items I wanted weren't available anywhere locally, and when I checked Amazon, delivery times were running three to four weeks.
It was well past lunch time and I stopped at Juno, the restaurant inside the Crowne Plaza Hotel, to regroup and think through my options. While I was there, I confirmed my Sunday flight—a scenic trip over Denali that included a glacier landing. As I sat there thinking about the brake issue, it occurred to me that I would be in Fairbanks around August 10.
I searched online and found Seekins Ford. Their online scheduling system asked me to describe the problem, enter all of my vehicle information, and then select an appointment. The first available opening was five weeks away. There was also a phone number, so I called.
The service advisor who answered was friendly and genuinely seemed interested in helping. Unfortunately, none of the information I had just entered online was available, so we started over from scratch. When we finished, he said, "Our first opening is September 30." That was more than two months away. I mentioned that the online scheduler had shown appointments in five weeks. "Oh," he replied, "that system is never synchronized properly." What?
I asked what someone was supposed to do with a potential brake problem if there was no way to get it looked at in a reasonable amount of time. "Maybe our Quick Service has something sooner," he said before transferring me. After several minutes of hold music, another employee answered. Once again, I had to provide all of my information and explain the problem from the beginning.
"We don't use the same system as the regular service department," she apologized. I told her I expected to be in Fairbanks around August 10. "You're in luck," she said. "We just had a cancellation." Finally. We talked for a few more minutes about getting vehicles serviced in Alaska. She explained that finding qualified mechanics is a major problem, even for people who live there. I’ll be holding my breath for the next two weeks.
One of the reasons I bought a Ford Transit instead of a Mercedes Sprinter was everything I had read about the difficulty of finding Sprinter parts and service in Alaska and western Canada. After spending the day trying to schedule a simple brake inspection, I wasn't so sure Ford owners were much better off.
Later I parked at a Starbucks to work on a few photography projects, including synchronizing the clocks on my two cameras with the time on my phone. Having accurate timestamps makes it much easier to sequence photographs correctly in Lightroom. Every image stores metadata, including the lens, shutter speed, aperture, capture time, and many other details.
I had the van's side door open while I worked, and there was a constant stream of homeless people walking past. At one point a security guard came running through the parking lot chasing several people who had reportedly stolen merchandise from a nearby store. Starbucks customers were constantly pulling in and out around me. After about an hour, I decided I'd had enough and moved to a quieter area near 6th Avenue. Parking was free by then, and I spent the next couple of hours working without any interruption.
At 10 p.m., the sun was still shining brightly through the sunscreen covering of the open side door. It was bright enough that the solar panels were still producing a healthy charge.
That evening I returned to the same general area where I had parked the night before. This time there was an enormous Mercedes-Benz Zentros 6×6 (probably over $1 million) that looked more like a military vehicle than an RV, complete with German license plates. I had to look it up. The previous night there had been a Mercedes camper van from Bern, Switzerland, parked in nearly the same spot. I wondered how they shipped it to North America.
Now there were five RVs lined up along the street. Cars filled the opposite side, kids were riding bikes and skateboards, and groups of teenagers walked past carrying beers. One of them yelled, "Welcome to the party." That was enough for me.
I drove away and decided to look for a place on my own instead of relying on one of the popular camping apps. Sometimes those apps send everyone to the same locations, and what starts as a quiet overnight stop quickly becomes overcrowded. I really need to put together a guide on how I find my own boondocking spots.
About ten minutes later I found a quiet residential street with very little traffic. It was exactly what I had been looking for. I was asleep by 11 p.m.