Heating and Planning
After 18 days without heat, I finally have heat again.
The trouble started somewhere in British Columbia. By the time I reached Whitehorse, Yukon, temperatures had dropped to 30°F with 50 mph winds — the kind of wind that pulls every last bit of warmth right out of a van. The furnace was running and showing temps up to 300°F, but nothing was actually getting hot. No floor heat, no hot air, no hot water.
After troubleshooting on my own and waiting out the Memorial Day weekend, I contacted the manufacturer, Rixens. They walked me through checking the voltage to the glycol pump — 12V, good — and then asked about vibrations on the pump. Nothing. Dead glycol pump.
I tracked down a technician in Haines, AK. Rixens shipped the new pump via USPS and it arrived three days later. I shifted my plans and drove to Haines. This was all going suspiciously smoothly. Then reality hit. The technician was actually in Alberta and wouldn't be in Haines for three weeks. Yes, he could do the work. No, he isn’t here to do it. Nobody else in Haines felt comfortable doing the work. So I pushed on to Juneau, hoping for better luck.
Juneau, it turns out, is a cruise ship town. RV repair options are slim. I called mechanics, marine shops, and a handful of miscellaneous numbers. I left messages, talked to people who weren't interested, and waited on callbacks that never came. The campground suggested their maintenance guy might help. He came over, looked at the job, agreed to return after lunch — and called an hour later with a bad back.
That was it. I decided to do it myself.
The short version: empty the van, syphon the glycol tank, clamp off the lines, remove the old pump, install the new one, rewire it, refill the system and repack everything. The space was tight and working in it was a challenge. The weather report did not call for rain, but it sprinkled twice. Eight hours, some choice words and multiple hardware store runs later — the glycol pump was in and working. Heat, glorious heat.
Planning
I came into Alaska with a detailed 90-day plan. Alaska will humble you quickly with that kind of confidence.
The distances are vast. Popular spots fill up fast. Things get booked weeks in advance. And then things happen — weather, road closures, cancellations. Parts of Denali are closed until 2027. Four of the six available tours aren't running. There are areas north of the Arctic Circle that require their own logistics entirely.
My original approach — hitting things back to back along a route — doesn't hold up here. That method is far too rigid. One hiccup and the whole plan unravels.
So I've rethought my planning. Instead of a linear route, I'm now building blocks around hub locations. Find an anchor spot, and radiate out from there. It's far more flexible, and it lets me book specific trips within a defined window without locking the entire itinerary in stone. Here are all 11 blocks from the latest plan:
Juneau — Base camp, heat fixed, capitol, museums, the town and then ferry to Skagway.
Skagway — White Pass Railroad, Chilkoot Trail, national historic district.
Wrangell-St. Elias & Kennecott — Remote wilderness, McCarthy road, glacier hiking.
Valdez — Columbia Glacier, Prince William Sound, photo trip.
Anchorage — Museums, cycling, Hub for Dutch Harbor fly-out and surrounding area.
Kenai Peninsula — Seward, Cooper Landing, Homer.
Talkeetna — Denali flightseeing, small town base.
Denali National Park — six days in the park, hikes, bus tours, etc.
Fairbanks — Northern hub, hikes, town.
Arctic Circle & Dalton Highway — North to the Arctic Circle, visit Arctic Ocean.
The Exit — End of trip, heading back to Canada.
I'm currently on the ferry heading north from Juneau to Skagway, rebuilding all the blocks and locking in reservations. That'll easily take a few days — but this time, I think the plan will actually survive all that Alaska brings.
On the ferry, they just ran their weekly emergency drill. It lasted 15 seconds. We thought it was over when, about 10 minutes later, the abandon ship signal sounded. "This is the abandon ship signal," the PA announced — then cut out mid-sentence. For about 30 seconds, most of us weren't sure if this was still a drill. They came back on: "This is just a drill. Crew should meet…"
I was not ready for a cold swim.