Pipe Dream: an Alaskan Adventure

By D.B. Brownlow

Have you ever wondered what your life would have looked like had you followed your dreams and taken off on that winding road we call life. Always dreaming of what excitement and riches were there to discover......On a beautiful sun drenched day in 1974 fortune smiled upon me and a plan was born that would change my world and how I viewed it forever.
Come along for the time of your life, I promise you won't regret the ride.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Apr 13, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462009985

D.B. Brownlow

Deborah Brownlow is an LPC Licensed Professional Counselor who works with families in the military deploying to “hot zones” around the world. She has always enjoyed writing, often penning poems and stories for her children. Reading has provided a lifelong source of joy. Deborah has three children and two grandchildren.

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Pipe Dream:

An Alaskan

Adventure

D.B. Brownlow

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Pipe Dream: An Alaskan Adventure

Copyright © 2011 D.B. Brownlow

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-4620-0997-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4620-0998-5 (e)

iUniverse rev. date:    06/12/2020

Contents

Dedication to Stephen

Chapter One: Destination To Be Determined, April 1971 June 1974

Chapter Two: On the Road

Chapter Three: Alaska or Bust

Chapter Four: At Last, Fairbanks

Chapter Five: Life at the Top

Chapter Six: Spring 1976

Chapter Seven: Dispatch

Chapter Eight: First Flight

Chapter Nine: Wobble

Chapter Ten: Garbage Detail

Chapter Eleven: Changing Crews

Chapter Twelve: Toolik

Chapter Thirteen: Party Hardy

Chapter Fourteen: R&R

Chapter Fifteen: Reconnecting

Chapter Sixteen: Chandalar

Chapter Seventeen: Last Party

Chapter Eighteen: Back to Reality

Acknowledgements

Dedication to Stephen

In the summer of 1974, I left Michigan on the road trip of a lifetime and ended up in Fairbanks, Alaska. My brother Stephen couldn’t understand that I was leaving home and possibly would be gone for quite a long time. Although Stephen is older than I am, I have always considered him my baby brother. Stephen was born with 49, XXXXY Syndrome, a rare variant of Klinefelter Syndrome, a genetic condition affecting both mental and physical development. In the world of genetics, it was like winning the lottery with his extra X chromosomes.

My brother was born in 1949. At birth, my mother and father were told that Stephen would be a dwarf and would probably not live past the age of twelve. Boy, did he fool all of us, for despite his medical issues, he eventually reached the height of 6 feet 5 inches and lived his life to the fullest.

Some of the many physical aspects of his disease are tremors, spasms, and the lack of muscle development in his arms and legs. He also didn’t develop any hair on his body or face, although in his youth, he had a head of thick, black, wavy hair. He learned to read at an elementary school level and wrote his letters in long, shaky strokes. Though he never had the opportunity to join the mainstream educational system, he probably would have flourished if he had been provided with classes and instructors to assist him. Stephen is amazingly bright and could name every player on all of the Detroit sports teams, and could take a stereo apart and then put everything back together just through sheer curiosity and natural instinct. As a young adult, he lived in a group home and worked at a shop. He enjoyed a fairly independent life that included trips with his housemates to Hawaii, Las Vegas, and Disneyworld.

Stephen is kind and thoughtful, and one of the most sensitive human beings that I have ever known. I decided that writing to my brother would be a great way to keep up my journal and feel connected to him. This book, a compilation of journal entries and letters to Stephen, is the result.

Chapter One:

Destination To Be Determined,

April 1971 June 1974

Adventure. Passion. Fulfillment. This is what I wanted.

Boring. Tame. Predictable. This was my life in Michigan.

I worked as an executive secretary for nine businessmen. I transcribed notes from Dictaphones. I wrote in shorthand. I edited my shorthand into pages of reports. I dreamed of travel and excitement, adventure and new challenges, making a difference, and making money. I did not drink coffee. Therefore, I did not make coffee. I was twenty-four.

I had always desired adventure and escape but hadn't taken my first trip out of Michigan until I had just turned twenty-one, when I made a breakaway run for a one-week jaunt to California. There, I met my first Jesus Freaks or Flower Children (to this day, I'm not sure which cult they hailed from). They invited me to move with them to their farm in Tennessee. The only catch to this great offer was that I had to surrender my Volkswagen and all of my cash to the family. I didn't even loan money to my sister, let alone to smiling strangers singing two inches from my face! Although peace and love were foremost in my thoughts, giving up my beloved sky-blue Beetle was definitely not acceptable.

One afternoon, while lying out and enjoying the California sun, the ground began to shake beneath me. I was experiencing my first earthquake! Once I started to breathe again, my body started trembling on its own. On the flight back to Michigan I was bumped up to first class. As I followed the flight attendant to the front of the plane and heard the soft music and felt the glow of warm lights, I thought I had finally arrived. 30,000 feet in the air, floating through fluffy cotton clouds, gin and tonic in one hand and a cigarette in the other––if that wasn't perfection, I didn't know what was. I could never fathom why the stewardess changed my seat to first class. Maybe I appeared unhinged and they wanted to keep an eye on me, or perhaps my soulful eyes twisted at the strings of her heart. My belief in the generosity of strangers showing random acts of kindness was reinforced while soaring through the sky that April morning.

A few months later, I had the opportunity to drive out to Colorado. A friend was enrolled in college in Boulder and offered me a place to stay while I explored the surrounding area. When the Rockies first came into sight, my heart stopped. They were such a beautiful vision after having driven through the lush but flat farmlands of the Midwest. It was the first time I felt heaven on earth. The mountains, the snow, the beauty of the fir trees; this was my first real taste of nature and the true gifts our planet had to offer. Michigan had its own lovely pristine spots; unfortunately, they were nowhere in sight around suburban Detroit. Freeways, fast food joints, too many cars and definitely an overwhelming abundance of people were what I was used to. I had always dreamed of leaving Michigan but had never gotten around to it until then.

I really spread my wings during my visit to Colorado. I had never attended college so the opportunity to spend time on a gorgeous campus was thrilling and quite foreign to me. Until then, the highest mountains that I had seen were at Boyne Mountain in Northern Michigan. For the first time, I was on my own, life was sublime and I was not about to waste one precious moment. My friends and I walked along different trails around Boulder. My favorite memories were of resting in the natural hot springs we came across on our hikes. It was exciting to strip down and submerge myself in the pungent, steaming stream. The heated waters insulated my weary body as if I had been wrapped in the softest blanket, and I wanted to remain in that blissful state forever. Many evenings were spent gazing at the star-filled sky; I had never viewed such a brilliant display of light. For the first time in my life, I felt peaceful. I was grateful for my life and the world around me. A lifelong appreciation for the wonders of the earth took hold of my soul on that trip. I decided that never again would I just settle in my life.

In Colorado, I felt like my journey had truly begun and I had finally found a path to wander, but I had to get back to Michigan. There, reality was waiting for me. With no money, I needed to get home in time for a long-planned European vacation with my lifelong girlfriend Gina. In order to pay for gas to drive home, I ended up selling my eight-tracks to truckers at various stops. How naive I was to think that it was my tapes for sale that the drivers were so delighted to see!

Five hours after I got back to Michigan, I was off to meet up with Gina for our flight to Rome. Out with the old and in with the new! I packed my bag, rushed past my dad the judge (who may or may not have even realized I had already been gone for several weeks), and hitched a ride with my mom to the airport. By the time I arrived at the international terminal at Detroit Metro, I was panting and trembling with excitement at the visions of my upcoming adventure across the ocean. Gina and I had planned this trip since we were little girls, often plotting our course while pretending to study for exams. Both of us had taken babysitting jobs as young girls, continuing to work and save our money throughout the years for our grand escape to Europe. I had peeled carrots and cleaned out garbage baskets, envisioning strange faces speaking unfamiliar languages and new vistas of foreign lands. When we both turned twenty-one that year, we felt that taking the trip would be our show of independence. No one could stand in our way any longer; we were adults! At last we had arrived where we needed to be, or so we thought.

We had scrimped and saved for so many years toward this goal, we were giddy with the knowledge that we were finally on our way; to what, we knew not, but no one cares when they are young. Combining our mix of newly found personal freedom, innate lack of common sense, and surging flow of hormones through our bodies, it was amazing that we didn't explode before takeoff. Romance, fame, and fortune were just across the sea and soon would be within my grasp. At that moment I came to the conclusion that life was short, and time a commodity that could not be wasted. I felt powerful and in control of my life; there would be no going back to the drab existence I had known before!

Michigan. Drab and dreary. I always felt it to be an unwelcoming, cold, gray land. I had returned after my European vacation to find that my employment opportunities were limited and my friends scattered to the four corners of the land. Two years after my first secretarial experience, there I was, once again surrounded by dictaphones and business executives. Despite my claims to the contrary, I had indeed returned to my drab existence. This little stop in the world of business reminded me that I hated what I was doing. I swore to myself this would never happen again. Nine to five––what a living hell. How do people spend their lives on this schedule? I chafed at the drudgery but fortunately had found a kindred spirit who shared my dreams of adventure and escape.

Pat and I met one snowy night in the winter of 1973 at a place called The Back Seat, a cozy little bar in Keego Harbor, Michigan. Gazing at the band through the smoke filled room, I noticed this sexy, mysterious-looking guy playing the drums; that was all I needed to make my move. In those days I was quite subtle, so I just wandered by the stage and asked him if he wanted a beer. Once we began to talk, I realized that I had found someone who viewed the world as I did and also appeared to be searching for new adventures. Our relationship progressed in the normal fashion. Our animated conversations fueled our desire to leave the city and hit the road.

Pat and I liked to go to travel movies at the Detroit Art Museum; it was an inexpensive escape without having to leave home. After seeing the weekend travel movie on Alaska presented by George Pierrot, Pat and I seriously talked about leaving on our own adventure. We both felt that Alaska should be the final destination; it was a state as wild and untamed as we saw ourselves. Something came over both of us on that day, a force greater than any I had ever felt. We were perched on the edge of the cliff and felt like it was the right moment to take that leap of faith.

We were both quiet on the ride home from the museum, overwhelmed by what we had just seen on the movie screen. Pat and I looked at each other and smiled. Perhaps the film on Alaska had given us our answer to where we were heading on our trip. Wild and raw was our impression of the north. It could be a perfect fit for two dreamy explorers in search of a new life. Pat and I felt so much clearer on the direction we would set our compass.

Let’s head west toward the Pacific ocean, Pat said, raising an eyebrow in question.

Then north to Canada and the Yukon, I added. I tilted my head dreamily, picturing the blue skies, big mountains, and unrefined beauty of the north. We would follow the route of the early gold miners who went in search of buried treasure, forging our way over mountain passes, through wild uncharted wilderness.

We did not have an abundance of cash, but our plan did not require it. We would take my beloved VW Beetle, camp out when and where we decided, ration food, and plan according to our moods. We would stay where we wanted for as long as we wanted. No stress, no obligations. It was hard to picture a life with so much freedom when every day I dreaded another argument at the office about whose responsibility it was