Milestones on the journey

Today marked three months since we left home and, coincidentally, the 7,000 mile mark on our journey! Poised as we are on the western edge of the Canadian Rockies, with Jasper one hundred miles ahead and the Icefields, Lake Louise, and Banff calling, we see new adventures coming into focus.

Stewart and Hyder

Didn't mention before that we detoured to Steward, BC and Hyder, Alaska, for two days before leaving the Cassiar. Heard the salmon were running and the bears were splashing along after the salmon and the Salmon Glacier was one of the largest accessible by road (well, they called it a road, but 4-wheel drive came in handy).

As advertised, we saw salmon, bears, and glaciers galore. (It also rained most of the time.)

Then we stopped, as recommended, at The Bus, an old school bus converted into a kitchen, where we ate delicious fish and chips. And I do need to mention the Toaster Museum, right up there near the top of my favorite museums, alongside the Barbed Wire Museum in Kansas and the Space and Bike Museum in Sparta, Wisconsin!

Wet Weather Wanderings

Now I am lobbying to change the name of the Yellowhead Highway to Wethead Road! Nothing but rain, well, excepting a short spate of hail, for the past 450 miles. Less fun than we hoped for. Along the way, we managed to visit the village of Gitanyow , site of the most standing totem poles in this part of British Columbia, and the reconstructed village of 'KSAN, where we were lucky enough to arrive during a festival.

The provincial parks of BC maintain their reputation for pristine environments and cleanliness. Image a whole campground without a speck of litter to be seen! We have recently enjoyed the lovely parks at Kinaskan, Meziadin, Lake Beaufort, and last night at Lake Purden. Today, rain notwithstanding, we hiked in an ancient rainforest of western red cedar, somehow spared the widdespread logging that is endemic to this region.

Call of the road, Name of the Highway

I have always been a sucker for highways that have names. I don’t mean those number s that are rigidly imposed according to some arcane system, like I-5, or Interstate 80. No, I mean those roads that have earned their names in some way, okay, like Highway 66—“get your kicks on 66” and many people se do. I mean those roads whose names show you that the road itself is the destination, not just the fastest way to get from point A to point B. In California, of course, there is the Coast Highway that from time to time just shrugs its shoulders and slips into the Pacific Ocean, defying all engineering brilliance to keep it from slipping down the cliff. Close to home, our favorite is the Edison Lake Road, so sly and devious that I treasure my “I survived that Edison Lake Road” coffee mug. Now both car and FunFinder sport bumper stickers proclaiming, "I survived the Dempster Highway!!” (Honest, two exclamation points.) The renowned “Top of the World Highway” was tame by comparison and thus no bumper sticker or mug to commemorate it.
Now that we have driven both the North Klondike and the South Klondike, from south to north, we felt ready to resume travel on the granddaddy of them all—the Alaska Highway, more familiarly called the Alcan. Only briefly, however, for we have been seduced by the sound of the Stewart Cassiar that will connect us to the Yellowhead.

More prosaic folk might report that we are using Provincial 37 to Highway 16, and that is true, too. But in the quiet of the afternoon, beside a tranquil lake ringed with pine and spruce, with only a family of loons for company, we rejoice that we are following the call of the Cassiar to the Yellowhead, and yonder.

Back at Dawson Peaks before the Cassiar Highway

One of the pleasures of setting forth in the morning is not knowing where we will stop for the evening. Despite all our maps and the trusty Milepost guide, we enjoy picking and choosing among the provincial campgrounds, the roadhouse wayside spots, and those camps that defy categorization. The past two nights have been a study of contrasts. We planned our departure from Whitehorse to be able to revisit Dawson Peaks Resort, a few miles east of Teslin. You might recall that in late June I had raved about rhubarb pie. Being ready for seconds, we returned to spend the evening with the gracious hosts, Carolyn and Dave, and two slices of equally delicious bumbleberry pie, the rhubarb being too late in the season now. We basked in a rosy sunset, Ray snapping many photos as the golden light set on the Dawson Peaks.

The next noon, arriving at the 37 Junction, we realized that much of the color was from the smoke of wildfires that have been burning along the Cassiar. The road south was closed to traffic, with the slight possibility that a convoy would be allowed through—the following morning. We were number three in a line that eventually grew to over twenty vehicles. And so we set up a block party (a blockade party, perhaps?

Beach chairs and beer appeared, neighbors introduced themselves, turns were taken to harass or share snacks with the solitary blockade guard left behind to control us unruly elderly vacationers. In the cool of the evening, groups strolled along the closed highway, waving to the returning tired and smoky firefighters. Then we all went to sleep right there on the road, in trailers, rv’s, trucks, and cars. Up at dawn, we made bets about the probability of the convoy. Stakes began rising and just as things were about to turn nasty, the pilot car arrived and we became docile followers for forty smoky miles.

Glacier Bay National Park

Do try to see Glacier Bay National Park--no way to describe it--size of glaciers, color of the ice, the surrounding rocky beaches, the rain forest setting, the history of the place, the mountains surrounding it like the setting for the jewel colored waters, well, you see why I recommend coming here for yourselves!

And if anyone ever asks me to settle down, I now have a tee shirt with John Muir's apt response--"The Mountains are Calling and I MUST Go"

The Golden Circle

The Golden Circle is the local name for our recent trip. With Leora joining us, we piled into the car and set off-west to Haines Junction and nose to nose with the Kluane National Park, which, along with the Wrangell-Elias and Glacier Bay National Parks are considered Heritage Sites, and with good reason. Everything here is on an almost cosmic scale--mountains are higher (Ray can tell you just how high) and lakes are wider and deeper and greener and as for the glaciers, well, no sculptor could come up with the shapes and shades and huge rivers of ice! Wonderful flight over the glaciers to Glacier Bay National Park. Smallest plane we've ever flown--four passenger and the expert pilot.

In Haines, Alaska, we are supper at the only Mexican food restaurant in town, owned by folks from Carmel, CA! Superb Food and gracious service--thanks to Mosey's Cantina and Thad Stewart. Note the delighted anticipation and the self-control being exercised by Ray and Leora as I took the photo.

After Glacier Bay--a blog in itself--we continued by small plane and then by Alaska Marine Highways Ferry on to Skagway, where we actually stayed at Sgt. Preston's Lodge--remember the stories of that good though fictitious Mountie and his loyal dog King? In Skagway, we rode the narrow-gauge steam train high into White Pass close to the famed Chilkoot Trail of the Klondikers. Then honeward bound back to Whitehorse.

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, with some Ferries

We're off to a new adventure via planes, trains, and automobiles, and a couple of ferries, as well. But no Internet, so there will not be a new blog until mid-August. Please check back in then and find out what we've been doing while the FunFinder rests here in site 21 at Caribou Campground in Whitehorse. We'll be in Yukon for two nights, in B.C, then in Alaska, before returning--two countries, three provinces/states, and who knows what else?

Here is beautiful Miles Canyon on the Yukon River, just downstream from our campground.