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.  

Day 23 - 25 Kluane Beauty

Sept 3, 4, 5  Kluane National Park

This is more like it!  We've settled into a quiet rhythm of holiday camping, rather than hardship and strife!  West and north from Whitehorse, we're into Kluane National Park, a wild and rugged landscape of snowy peaks and deep emerald lakes.  The campsite at Kathleen Lake is set in the boreal forest of aspen and spruce with scattered glimpses of the lake below.  We've spent the days paddling and fishing, hiking and sightseeing.
 
The lake is deep and glacial, surrounded by freshly dusted snowy peaks.  The water is so clear I watched a big pike hunting the smaller fish in 20 feet of water.  Known for its lake trout, they're clustered at the mouth of the outlet river, but not biting our hooks.  I'm disappointed not to catch a big one, but Norbert is happy to go for the feisty grayling in the river again. 

The bottom here is 20 feet down but clearly visible.

Grayling fishing - not successfully today though.

It's blissful to paddle in this turquoise water, watching the ever changing light on the mountains, and listening to the loons.  We're on a not so successful quest to see all four species of Canadian loons, and we may have a photo now of the rarest, an ivory billed loon.  It will need further adjudication.

The days here have been warm and sunny, enough that we took a very quick dip in the lake one afternoon.  With the clear skies, the nights have been very cold though - we woke to minus 2 degrees.  I've been getting all my clothes on when I get up in the night so I can go out and look at the sky.  The stars are brilliant and the Milky Way streams across the sky.  No aurora yet, but next week my aurora predictor app says we have a better chance.  Let's hope for more clear nights. 

One of the benefits of the cold is the enforced stretching routine I need to do first thing in the morning to get dressed under the covers.  It's really cozy in bed, but baring my skin in the icy camper is not my favourite thing, so I drag my clothes in, then when they're warm I wriggle and squirm into them while trying to stay completely covered.  Very effective movement therapy - I should patent it.

Kluane landscape 

These peaks are the nearer range, but still very impressive.

The days pass easily, with long stretches of doing very little, a skill I'm not usually known for.  But in the camper it comes easily.  We linger over breakfast, tidy up a bit (it doesn't take long to sweep out our 20 square feet), wash the dishes, then head down to the lake to fish.  I read or knit once I'm bored, which is an hour into a fruitless fishing expedition, and Norbert comes back when he has dinner.  We sit by our campfire with wine and books, or play Scrabble until our lids are heavy.  Pretty peaceful existence and very satisfying.  I feel like we needed this R+R after our Dempster ordeal.

Day 19 - 22 The Klondike takes its Toll

Thurs Aug 30 Tombstone Territorial Park to Dawson City

Just as we arrived back in Tombstone Park - potholes of gold.

It was a long day yesterday, about 8 hours of driving to do 300 km, but we made it back with no further drama.  There were a few unfortunate casualties visible who'd obviously had mishaps and ended up in various orientations off the road.  Slippery doesn't half describe this gumbo when it rains!

The fall colours in the tundra just aren't bright without sunshine.

My only complaint was my seat belt which kept strangling me with every bump, so my hands were sore from hauling on it.  Finally I dug out the duct tape and fixed it with a clothes pin to prevent retraction.  Norbert quipped that I now had the new hands free model.  Not just a masterful backroads driver this boy!

We're back in Dawson, feeling very disappointed about missing Inuvik and Tuk, but glad to be driving on good roads again.

Everyone in the campground has a story.  Many wisely went only so far as Tombstone.  It's exceptionally beautiful, especially with the fall colours on the tundra, and easily the prettiest place on the Dempster.  Others turned back like us, common sense overriding a sense of adventure.

We're grateful we don't have the tale, and the bills, that one couple recount over coffee.  They made it to Tuk before the weather changed, but their truck paid a heavy toll.  At Eagle Plains it gave up the ghost and needed to be towed.  They left their trailer by the roadside and had a harrowing nightime ride in the tow truck to Dawson.  The tow cost?  $3200.  And the repair?  Still unknown.

They had a hilarious story about one of the vehicles we'd seen in the ditch, a big new SUV that had gone down an embankment about 20 feet.  In the midst of their midnight ride, they'd come upon a tangle of cars and lights blocking the road.  Twenty Chinese tourists were milling about on the road, suitcases all over, cars every which way.  They pointed at the SUV, gesticulating that the driver had missed the turn and gone over.  They'd removed all their friends and belongings from the wreck, and wanted the tow truck to pull their car up.  It clearly was an impossible task, especially in the middle of the night, so he told them to follow him in their four remaining vehicles into Dawson.  They argued and shouted and jockeyed around until they were all installed in cars, and took off after him.  Inevitably they couldn't keep up, and he assumed he'd find them at the designated hotel in the morning.  Instead, they were all gone - just checked out and left!  That's one way to drive the Dempster!

Fri, Sat Aug 31, Sept 1  Dawson to Whitehorse

At least there's always retail therapy!  Look at my moosehide slippers with beaver trim!

It's a long stretch back to Whitehorse, but without our passports we can't take the circular route through Alaska that we took last time to go south.  Nevermind, with each kilometer the temperature seems to rise and the fall retreats back into summer.  We've now got a couple weeks to spend in southern Yukon where the weather looks like it should in early September.  We listen to Stephen Fry reading Sherlock Holmes as the road spins past.

There is more wildlife here than we saw all along the Dempster.  Elk, sheep, trumpeter swans, hawks, a fox and even a lynx!  We saw only a lone porcupine waggling up our trail at Tombstone.

We'll spend the long weekend in Whitehorse so we avoid the crowded campsites out of town.  We need provisions, etc, and we want to revisit the Beringia museum, a fabulous display covering the natural history of the Yukon.  A welcome respite after our aborted northern voyage.

Day 17, 18 Decision time

Tues, Wed Aug 28, 29  Turn around time

I'm trying to write this as we bounce and slide along a very bad stretch.  We're heading south, disappointed, but realistic.

Start of the day!

Yesterday we advanced north as the highway and weather deteriorated.  There were a few cars off the road - not surprising considering the conditions.  These roads are built on permafrost and gravel is laid 6 to 10 feet deep to keep the roadbed from melting underneath.  The narrow shoulders are soft gravel, sloping acutely down into the muskeg.  Normally you drive down the centre of the road, picking the best route through the potholes, but there is no room for error when passing someone.

We were feeling somewhat apprehensive about conditions even before the flat tire, but that was the deciding factor.  We limped into Eagle Plains (km 369) on our old spare, crossing our fingers all the way.  At least here we could get the tire repaired, fill up with diesel, and spend the night.  It's not the Hilton, but at this point a muddy yard and an electrical outlet seemed like luxury.

A flat tire is a complex problem with a camper on the truck.  An hour of hard work.

We chatted with the other campers.  Those with completely blackened muddy exteriors had been further north and all agreed the road was much worse ahead.  Two couples had made it to Tuk, but had hair raising stories about driving off the Peel River ferry through 2 foot deep rushing water.  (These ferries land on shifting gravel shores, pushed into place daily or hourly by a bulldozer.  When the river is high the gravel can be washed away and the shoreline very eroded.)

Today the Peel is still closed.  The forecast, which clearly changes hourly, is for continuous rain further north, turning to snow Thursday and Friday.  The decision is easy.  We only hope for no more flat tires on the way back to Tombstone.

Day 14, 15, 16 Adversity and the Dempster Highway

Sat Aug 25  The Dempster Highway to Inuvik at last

Start of the Dempster Highway to Inuvik.  This is an understatement!

So we're off at last on the Dempster - 739 km of gravel to Inuvik, much of it above the Arctic circle.  Trees give way to tundra, days get ever longer, wildlife abounds.  We hope to see moose, caribou, muskox and bears (in moderation.)

Mud, mud, mud....

But the highway!  After all this rain, the road is in bad shape - thick slippery mud, trains of potholes, slumps the size of refrigerators.  We slalom along, often at 10 kmh, and the first 70 km to Tombstone Territorial Park campground takes us 2 hours.  This doesn't bode well for the next few days.

On the bright side, we've arrived in time for Tombstone on the Rocks, a weekend event hosted by the Yukon Geological Survey and the park naturalists.  What better place to be right now?  We manage a hike up to a viewpoint in late afternoon sunshine before rain begins again.

Sun Aug 26 Tombstone

The temperature has dropped precipitously overnight and it's 0 degrees in the camper this morning.  An ice dam has formed on our skylight and water begins to trickle in, onto our bed.  We scramble for towels, prop up the wet sheets and feel somewhat inadequate to the task before us.

Tombstone Park at it's best.

We discuss options over breakfast.  We can stay here for a while, but if it's below freezing we'll have to empty our water tank.  We've dry camped before, but it's a hassle humping water jugs around.  We can head up the road, but if conditions don't improve, it won't be any fun.  We can wait at the Peel for the ferry, but with more rain in the forecast it may close again.  We could end up stuck on the other side too, for a long time....  For the first time, we contemplate turning back.  No decision is reached, and we go for a hike.

The sun come out as we arrive at the Grizzly Lake trailhead, and we have a perfect fall day in the mountains.  The fall colours are just starting on the tundra and it glows golden in the sun.  The vistas are stunning, and we have three geologists along to explain the peaks and valleys.

Things begin to look brighter - all our wet laundry dries in the sun, the thermometer reaches 15 C and word spreads that the ferry is open again.  We celebrate getting this far by the campfire tonight.  Tomorrow is another day.

Mon Aug 27  Tombstone (km 76) to Engineer Creek Campsite (km 193)

A gloomy start - low cloud obscures the surrounding peaks.  Decision time - we check weather (rain/sun for 7 days), and the two ferries north of us (the Peel is closed again, but the Mackenzie remains open).  We decide to take it one day at a time and head up the highway.  The road is good, surprisingly, and miraculously the clouds break, distant horizons peak through, and the tundra glistens in bright fall foliage.  We putter along, scanning for wildlife, stopping for photos, and fishing in tumbling rivers. Two grayling for dinner!   A perfect day, all the more welcome for being so unexpected.

The Blackstone River side channel full of grayling.  First cast yielded dinner!  I wasn't so successful.

Day 13 Dawson City

Fri Aug 24 Moose Creek to Dawson City

The Tintina Trench on a better day!

We wake to low cloud and rain for the first time.  We drive north through the clouds, losing sight of the river and the usually stunning view across the Tintina Trench.  This is the largest fault line in North America, crossing Yukon from SE Alaska to Alberta, and provides a flyway for bird migration, including 200,000 sandhill cranes.  No one is aloft today.

Dawson City appears much as we left it 5 years ago, perhaps a bit more decrepit.  Parks Canada can barely keep up the 40 or so historic buildings they maintain and many private buildings are falling into ruin as well.  But there are encouraging signs of growth too.  New First Nations' development is everywhere and there is lots of construction popping up.  A great pizza restaurant has opened too.  It's good to see this sweet little town surviving.  Its remarkable history is worth preserving.

We check in at the NWT Visitors' Centre and surprise!  The Dempster Highway to Inuvik is closed at km 539.  The Peel River ferry is shut down due to high water.  With more rain in the forecast, we worry that this may put a serious wrench in our plans.  All we can do is wait and see.  The ferry crossing won't be for a couple of days.

Yukon Gold is filming in Dawson.  Here on the banks of the Yukon river is Tony (on the flatbed) hauling his gigantic tug up onto his humungous truck!  We spent an hour watching and laughing!

Day 11, 12 North to the Klondike

Wed Aug 22 Whitehorse

Five finger rapids along the Yukon river.

One of my favourite cities, Whitehorse is a modern, diverse and beautiful stop stretched along the Yukon River.  Good bakery, three coffee shops, museums, art, and a yarn store!  I could definitely live here.  We spend a fortune on cheeses, chocolates and fresh produce, then a larger fortune on booze.

Sometimes it looks like a laundry in here.

We've been looking forward to Two Brewers distillery, an offshoot of the local Yukon Brewing, and we are not disappointed.  Their gin is redolent with aromatic spruce tips and hits the sinuses like wasabi.  I'm hooked.  They've sold out of the peatty single malt whiskey that swept the Canadian awards last year, but the new vintage is smoky and toasty enough for me.  This with dark chocolate for dessert tonight!  And there's some stashed away for home, so you may all get a taste!


Thurs Aug 23  Whitehorse to Moose Creek

A beautiful tile mosaic greets us at Carmacks.

Larder full, sanitank empty, and laundry done, we're off to the Klondike on the road to Dawson City.  Overnight rain has rinsed the forest and the still green lakes glisten in sunlight.  These valleys were glaciated, and long gravel eskars snake throough the deeply cut river beds.  We've crossed and recrossed the continental divide and are now in the Yukon watershed where all rivers flow north and west, emptying 3000 km downstream on the coast of Alaska into the Bering Sea.  Salmon come up the Yukon and once were plentiful even this far inland.  Sadly only 500 have passed through the fish ladder in Whitehorse this year, a new low.

Past Carmacks, about half way up the Klondike highway, the road deteriorates.  We slow for dips and potholes, the perils of road building on shifting permafrost.  We have entered the 'drunken forest' where tall spruce trees tilt and lean at precarious angles.  Where the underlying frozen soil has thawed and melted, pools of unstable wet soil no longer pin the trees, or the road, to earth.  The anthropocene era is upon us.

As we climb out of the valleys into the black spruce forest, we enter the southern extent of Beringia, the unglaciated refuge that extended across western Yukon, most of Alaska, and into Siberia and Asia.  Fifteen thousand years ago, with much of North America under ice, this high flat steppe remained dry and provided a pathway for migration.  Sea levels were low enough to create a land bridge across the Bering Sea that our ancestors crossed, walking with the mammoths and sabre-toothed tigers and populating the New World.  Mammoth tusks are a common find as mine bore into the permafrost.  We'll keep an eye out for the giant beaver and prehistoric horse, just in case.

Day 9, 10 Yukon at Last

Mon. Aug 20  Yukon at last!

Smoke thickens.

From Liard Hotsprings to Watson Lake (250 km) we encounter the thickest smoke yet.  Visibility is minimal and there is no horizon for miles.  Surely this fire is closer than Telegraph Creek, 200 km to the west?  We monitor southbound traffic, wondering if our road will be blocked ahead in the gloom.  Then suddenly, climbing over a hill, we're in the clear.  Watson Lake, just ahead, is in sunlight.

We need some benefits of civilization, so despite the decidedly sparce amenities this will be our stop tonight.  First gas, then the grocery store and the Yukon visitors' centre for a full bag of new maps and brochures.  We check email, weather and road info, and it's here that we hear that a new fire has erupted and is rapidly advancing just south of us, along the highway we've so recently passed.  That explains why we smell like old campfire!

The RV park in town is one I remember well from five years ago.  Then I pronounced the ugly gravel yard 'the worst campsite we've ever seen.'  Now we pull in along the border of trees and scan the big rigs heading for Alaska who are lined up down the centre of the court, and I'm happy to be settled here tonight.  I know it's safe and quiet, the showers are clean, and there's wifi if I sit on a bench by the office.  Oh how our standards change with experience and necessity.

Caribou by the side of the road!

Tues Aug 21 Watson Lake to Whitehorse

Overnight with windows all open, we smell less like burnt wood, and we are clean and provisioned.  The air is miraculously clear as we hit the road north and the miles click by quickly.  Although this is a beautiful stretch with rivers and lakes nestled in verdant valleys, we decide to push on to Whitehorse, 430 km away.  Tuktoyaktuk calls and we need a good two week window to make it.  The weather looks clear and the seasons are changing, so it's time to cover some distance.

Although the days are longer here (the sun is setting an hour later than only a week ago), the nights are cold and the landscape is changing.  A mosaic of golden leaves litters the paths, piles of squirrel cached cones dot the forest floor.  The campsites are still busy, but most folk are heading south now.  Even some businesses are shut for the season.  Sadly, we've missed out on 'Mukluk Annie's Famous Salmon Bake' in Teslin!