The Adventure Comes to an Close

Mon Sept 29 Home at last

Well it truly was an adventure!  The trip to Tuk turned out to be not quite what we had expected, aside from the failure to make it north of the Arctic Circle, let alone to the shores of the Beaufort Sea.  We've endured blackflies and a plague of wasps, smoke, dust, mud, rain, sleet, hail, snow and wind.  We've had truck problems, and turned back several times from our intended destinations.  We've seen very few animals - no grizzlies, wolves, goats, or muskox.  And no northern lights.

On the other hand, like all trips, it's been filled with wonders and surprises that have made each day worthwhile. We've seen rainbows and starlit nights of heart-stopping beauty.  We've eaten fish fresh caught from mountain streams, and hiked through meadows of alpine flowers.  We've startled a great horned owl from his perch above us, and watched a lynx cross the road ahead.

Although the weather was cold and often wet, we still spent hours outside each day enjoying the fall colours.  The boreal forest and the northern tundra were spectacular in their autumn foliage.
The animals weren't as prolific as we'd expected, but the list is still pretty amazing and Norbert's photos will be a lasting treasure.

Without the series of misadventures could we develop such a fine appreciation of the moments of sheer beauty and simple joy?  If we camped in a gravel yard last night, tonight's pristine mountain lake seems infinitely more pleasing.  If we remember shivering by an icy storm-tossed bay, then the brief swim in turquoise sunbright waters feels so much warmer.  When we wake to leaden clouds weighing down the morning sky, the evening alpenglow that graces the rocky peaks is so much sweeter.

I feel grateful for the experiences, the endless variety of nature, and even the challenges of the road.  The trip was equal parts exciting and restful, frustrating and joyful.  Travel is always a combination of feelings and satisfactions, leaving memories that gradually transform and burnish.  I'd recommend to everyone.

Happy Trails Everyone!

Days 35- 42 Southbound towards home

Sat Sept 15 - Fri Sept 21 Meziadin Lake to Prince Rupert

The past week has sped past and this morning we are sitting in the sun on the deck of the Northern Expedition as we pull out of Prince Rupert heading south to Port Hardy on Vancouver Island.

Fields full of sandhill cranes, then they all take off noisy chaos.

Our quick and chilly trip south left us with extra time to dally along the Skeena River, so we spent two days with old friends Rodolfo and Marianne on their ranch in Smithers.  It's a gorgeous bit of BC: rich farmland scattered beneath snowy peaks, and we can see why they love it.  We spent hours watching the thousands of sandhill cranes who transit this valley each year, trailing across the sky in long squaking skeins.  Their voices are rough and gravelly, like some broken ancient machine, and they carry on long arguments amongst themselves as they wheel and soar above us.

Loaded log truck on bridge over the Nass river.

West of Smithers the mountains drop down into deep river valleys left by long ago glaciers.  The Bulkley, Skeena and the Nass are still icy, blue and clear, and in better days were filled with returning salmon.  With runs significantly down, there's no fishing this season, but the scenery is still captivating.  We doddle westward.






But the truck has been acting up this week, and suddenly en route to the Nass valley and Nisga'a Memorial Lava Bed Park it makes ominous engine sounds, surprisingly similar to the grating of the cranes.  We turn back to Terrace, and the noise disappears.  The Ford dealership won't even look at it for two days, so we press on to Prince Rupert on the coast, hoping we'll catch our ferry at the end of the week.  If we miss it, we've got a week to wait for the next one.

Prince Rupert harbour in sunshine.

Luck is with us, for a change.  The truck seems fine, and Prince Rupert is bathed in sunshine when we arrive.  We spend two days hiking and basking in September sunshine, an almost unheard of blessing on this wet, foggy coastline.  The sushi is even better than we remember and we pronounce it worth the entire trip!

Sunset from the Prince Rupert dock.

Ferry morning comes and the truck starts reluctantly when we leave the campground.  At the ferry terminal we turn off the engine at the toll booth.  Fatal move.  It won't start.  We get a boost to move into the loading queue and then another half an hour later to drive onto the boat.  We'll obviously need another tomorrow morning when we dock, and then we'll have to deal with our dead battery problem.

So, here we sit in the sunshine, safely aboard and heading south.  We might as well enjoy the ride, because there's nothing else to be done until we arrive in Port Hardy.  It's a gorgeous trip, and there will be eagles and whales to watch, beautiful scenery, passing ships, and the tantalizing possibility of sea otters and kermode bears.  Tomorrow is another day.

The inside passage - a peaceful interlude after a stormy trip.

Day 33-34 The Cassiar highway in fall

Thurs Sept 13, Fri 14 - Cassiar highway

We wake in Watson Lake to minus 4 C and low threatening clouds.  It's either return down the Alaska Highway, through the Peace River country that is now blanketed with snow, or continue with our original plan of the more westerly route south on the Cassiar.  We'll take our chances, mapping out a few open campgrounds en route that have power for our heater overnight.  We're getting too soft - we'd have winterized the camper and just stayed at provincial parks in the olden days!

Winter paddle with beavers.

At Boya Lake provincial park we spend a lovely afternoon paddling beneath leaden clouds.  This lake is usually covered in loons and grebes, kingfishers flashing past, osprey overhead, but today there's not a soul visible.  The beavers have amassed impressive piles of logs and shrubs outside their houses - they must know it's going to be a long winter.

Beautiful Boya Lake with snow on the distant hilltops.

Foregoing a cold night here, we head down to the one horse town of Dease Lake, and hook up for the night.  It's not pretty, but it's warm and dry.  In the morning, the truck starts reluctantly and we head off under dark heavy clouds.  Flurries come and go through the morning and snow blankets the Cassiar mountains right down to the road.

Snow in the Cassiar mountains on a chilly Sept morning.

Our lunch stop amidst the aspens, beneath the snowy mountains.

Still we marvel at the aspens decked out in their fall finery, bright beacons in the otherwise dark landscape.  They form a tapestry of colours amongst the blue-green spruce, and we list the shades:  lime, Granny Smith, lettuce leaves, pistachio ice cream, lemon, butter, egg yolk, tangerine, campfire...   It must be lunch time.  We stop at the side of deep green Eddontenajon Lake, make coffee and watch the low clouds shift across the steep and snowy peaks above us.

From here south the highway improves, but the scenery is marred by a corridor of transmission lines, built 10 years ago to promote the mining industry in the NW.  The dream of prosperity never materialized but the towers remain as a testament to political boondoggling.

Quite suddenly the northern boreal forest gives way to lush coastal vegetation.  We descend from the Spatzizi plateau into the dense hemlock, cedar and fir forest.  Distant glaciers in the coast range peak out beneath the clouds.  Even the sky begins to clear, and we arrive at Meziadin Lake in sunshine.  What a wonderful surprise!

Meziadin Lake from our campsite!

Day 32 Watson Lake and decision time again

Sept 12 Watson Lake

Well the northern lights may have seen queer sights, but they didn't see us last night.  We kept warm by the fire til midnight, watched the sky slowly darken and the stars begin to twinkle, but no aurora appeared.  By 12, we were cold and tired and the appeal of our warm bed was greater than the risk of freezing to death outside waiting for celestial enlightenment.

The day dawned cold and clear, and we spent the morning with biologists who are monitoring migratory birds at the campsite.  They deploy fine mesh nets that catch the tiny warblers, then record and band them before release.  The forest here is aspen and spruce with dwarf willow along the lakeshore.  It's busy with birds but they flit between branches too fast for me to identify them.  It's lovely to see these gorgeous wee things close up, and recognize many who are headed, as we are, to the garden on W 14th Avenue.

The biologists also monitor larger birds on the lake, as this is a major migration corridor for thousands of swans, ducks, owls and eagles.  We are midway through the fall migration, but numbers are already dropping.  Ten days ago when the north wind began to blow in earnest, there was a southbound stampede.  They counted 300 raptors passing in one day alone last week.

The north wind continues to blow and it's unseasonably cold, so we beetle down to Watson Lake where we can hook up our electric heater overnight.  Of course when we drop in to the Visitor Info office they can't help but mention how great the show of northern lights were last night at 12:30pm!  I'm beginning to think this is a conspiracy to lure innocent tourists into believing in the aurora!

We'd planned to take our time down the Stewart-Cassiar highway from here.  The campgrounds are beautiful and the lakes just begging to be fished.  But once again, the weather is against us.  The road is quite high, traversing the Cassiar mountains, and snow is in the forecast.  Several of the nicest campsites have closed early this year because of weather.  We try to ignore the dire predictions and snuggle in for a long night of catch up sleep.

Day 29 - 31 Those elusive northern lights

Sept 9 - 11 Whitehorse to Teslin Lake

The riverboat Klondike on the bank of the Yukon in Whitehorse.

Back through Whitehorse for a couple more rainy days.  We find a lovely trail along the Yukon River that takes us out of town, across a suspension bridge and then back downstream.  Good enough to stretch our legs, and pretty enough to enjoy even in this weather.  The cold, especially at night, makes me appreciate the rigours of our ancestors' lives:  keeping warm, fed, healthy.  They probably had more weighty concerns than keeping the nectarines from freezing overnight.

Some of the European campers seem to think they're coming to wilderness.

Some people travel with their tiny home.

I'm constantly astonished by how people travel and camp.  We've seen all manner of rigs along the way, from home built plywood structures mounted on the backs of trucks to 55 foot behemoths with all the mod cons.  We've met bicyclists and motorcyclists who manage with the minimal, and older couples who sleep in their cars.  An evening walk around the campground is always remarkable.

Others are less encumbered.  These sail bikes are from Holland.

My aurora predictor shows a Kp index of 8 - high enough that northern lights are likely at this latitude, still north of 60.  Major solar activity is predicted Sept 10 and 11.  We check the sky late in Whitehorse - zilch.  Later we hear that there was good sightings half an hour after we went to bed.  Next night we decide to stop at the campground at Teslin Lake, midway to Watson Lake, and surrounded by nothing but dark sky.  

We scout out the campsite for good viewing options, stock up on wood to keep our campfire stoked, and pull on all our layers.  After dinner we play Scrabble til it looks dark enough (10 pm here), then go out to enjoy the fire, and watch the night sky.  We'll stay up til we're too cold or tired, but this is our best chance of the trip.  Perfect conditions!  Wish us luck!

Day 27, 28 Outhouses and others

Sept 7, 8  Outhouses and others

I'm sitting inside this morning waiting out the rain squalls.  We're at Kusawa Lake Campsite  gazing out at the grey misty shoreline of what purports to be one of the Yukon's most beautiful lakes.  Not bad today, but I'm hoping for some sun to show it to better advantage.  But it's quiet and lovely enough today.

Sockeye spawning in a stream.  Numbers are down, but this is good.

The Yukon territorial campsites are all nice in some way.  The sites are spacious, often very private, and always clean.  Unlike elsewhere, people here seem to take care of their environment and there's seldom garbage in the firepit or damaged picnic tables.  We've come to the conclusion that people up here are hardier outdoor types.  Lots of people are camping in tents, even in the colder weather.  Few campers have generators.  And everyone is wearing fewer layers than us.  (Today I was bundled up like  the Michelin Man - 9 layers around my middle!)

And I love the outhouses!  They're all painted dark green, with a front porch covered in white painted lattice -  sort of Victorian doll houses.  Some little elf cleans them daily and fills them with masses of toilet paper - I counted 12 rolls in one.  They must get painted weekly, because there's no graffiti.  And the best ones are the old fashioned kind with a big wooden bench complete with plastic seat over the relevent spot.  Very spacious and comfy, and not at all utilitarian.  Altogether nicer than the solitary porcelain throne sitting alone in the middle of a large drafty space.  And don't even mention those concrete vault ones that are popping up in rest areas - ugh, so plebian and prisonlike.

Norbert's favourite occupation here!

Besides the sweet toilet facilities, these parks have amenities that BC parks can only dream about.  There's always a big log house with either screen windows all round or half walls with open tops that has 2 or 3 picnic tables and a big cast iron wood stove.  On rainy days you can crank up the stove with free firewood and sit inside playing Scrabble or even cook your dinner.  There are large and well utilized play areas with climbing frames and swings and slides of all kinds.  There are boat launches, fishing docks, fish cleaning stations, swimming beaches, nature trails, ....  And all the firewood you could ever need.  All this for $12 a night.  I could definitely live here.

Except for maybe the blackflies.  Despite the cold nights, there are still blackflies.  Although I'm heartily glad not to see any more wasps, I am sooooo fed up with these bloody pests.  They have amazing tactics, like the surprise attack that gets you the minute you step outside, and the jungle warfare technique of hiding in your hair or eyebrows.  I just got over the last round and now have 3 new ones swelling up.  A local warned us that they'll be with us until the snow comes.  Guess I'll just have to wish for snow now!

But when the sun comes out, it's so nice!

Day 26 The High Point of our Journey

Sept 6 The High Point of the Journey

Tonight we are snug in our camper at Congdon Creek Park, on the shores of Kluane Lake,  north of Haines Junction.  We're back on the Alaska Highway that we first met outside of Fort St John, but now at km 1680.  (All points on the highway are still marked by mileage, now in kilometers, as well as the occasional historical milepost number.  Even the guidebook for the entire north - BC, Alberta, Yukon and Alaska - is called The Milepost.)  We've taken three weeks of perambulating to reach this far.  I still can't imagine how it was all built in under a year.

This looks sturdy enough, but still I'm glad I'm not in a tent.

The reason we are snug IN OUR CAMPER is that we are in the area that has the highest grizzly bear concentration in North America.  The campground has bigger and more threatening warning signs than all the other campgrounds, a large notation in The Milepost about carrying bear spray when you walk to the outhouse here, and even an electric fence enclosure for tenters.  I'm suitably terrified.  Our neighbours, German tourists in a rental camper, have set up their camera and tripod and are sitting by their fire.  I wonder how they think they'll get the bear to pose for them.

Today was definitely a high point in our travels.  We drove north of here another 80 km just to see if we could spot Mt. Logan, Canada's highest peak.  It is a massive block of granite deep in Kluane National Park, above the Gulf of Alaska.  With 11 peaks over 5000 m along its ridgeline it forms a gigantic wall of ice and snow in the St Elias range.  One would think something that big wouldn't be too hard to spot, but being so far away, and nested behind another range of giants, it's elusive. 

There's a notation at km 1739 in The Milepost that you might catch a glimpse of several of the big peaks, including Mt St Elias (our second highest), and Mt Logan.  We've driven this road before, but clouds filled the distant horizon, and we doubt that today will be any different.  But what's a detour of 160 km to these intrepid explorers?

Nothing but trees cover the western horizon at km 1739, but we continue north to find a good turning spot.  Lo and behold, we reverse direction, and there, glowing in sunlight, high in the distant clouds is a towering wide block of Canadian geography.  Proudly rising above the nearer peaks, at 5959 m or 19,551 ft it is truly stupendous.  There's no mistaking this big broad beautiful mountain today!  I'm beside myself with joy!

Mt Logan, big and square, fills the distant horizon.  Mt St Elias is the pointy peak just to the right.