Day 102 – July 14

Another relaxing wake up this morning followed by a breakfast with Ken and Renee in their sun filled cottage. Diane and I took a walk on the lake beach with Renee and the dogs, including a few joiners-on from the neighbourhood as the walk progressed. Red Deer Lake is a naturally occurring alkaline lake, to the extent that there is very little life in the lake at all so it was surprising to see and hear the large number of seagulls and terns that inhabit the shore. You would swear that you were on an ocean front judging from the continuous cacophony of bird calls and their activity at the waters edge.

Red Deer Lake

The morning passed uneventfully, it felt a little unusual not to be planning our next route or picking a place to stay for the night. I feel like we are just catching our breath before the final leg home. We are trying our best to not allow this to become a sprint as the drive across Canada was a key part of what we wanted to do on this trip, really get a feeling for the expanse of this country.

It also was nice to be spoiled by Ken and Renee’s awesome hospitality. After three months, it felt good to have someone else cook a whole meal for us. We discussed our route for the next day with Ken and have decided to head north and catch the # 16 Yellowhead Highway east which meets up with the #1 Trans Canada Highway outside of Winnipeg, rather than heading south for 2 hours to Calgary to catch the #1 Trans Canada there.

Renee had originally planned to head back to Calgary after supper but in order to spend some more time with us she opted for a 5:30 AM wake up and drive to work in Calgary on Monday morning. Supper was barbecued pork chops, from the BRT’s larder, broccoli, yams and sweet potato. After supper we teamed up boys and girls in some games of Sequence which, with a seemingly unending supply of Jacks the women folk dominated early on until the men began to rally and in a final push for the line the men won the winner take all hand.

Great hospitality

In respect of Renee’s early departure the following morning we headed to bed in advance of the midnight schedule of the previous two nights. It took some persuasion to get Maggie to abandon our room in favour of Ken and Renee’s loft – you know you have stayed too long when….

Day 103 – July 15

Renee kept to her early departure plan and had it not been for the clack of toe nails on the wood floor (Maggie and Skeeter’s, not Renee’s) we would have missed her departure all together. After a pleasant breakfast with Ken I packed up (how we managed to drag that much stuff from the BRT in two days I cannot fathom) while Diane and Ken did dishes.

We headed north on the #21 under darkening skies, which seemed to further accentuate the brilliant yellow fields of canola. Renee had reported that Calgary was wet with temperatures of 7. We hoped that wasn’t headed our way but as we continued north the skies ahead offered little optimism.

Foreboding skies

Saskatoon was within range if we wanted a 6 hour driving day but the Weather Network’s tornado warning for the afternoon helped to tip the balance towards something not quite so far east. As sporadic showers built to steady rain we approached the # 16 and settled in for a day of driving, with little incentive to stop for photos or sight seeing.

Ken and Renee had loaned us some of their extensive audio book library, so many in fact that I suggested we might have to head back to Alaska in order have enough time to finish them all. We picked out a Robert Ludlum, always a reliable source of fast action, to help the rain drenched miles pass. Fortunately and in no way a diminishment of our enjoyment of the novel, the rain abated as we progressed east, although the continuing dark grey skies provided a threat of its possible imminent return.

We stopped at Lloydminster for lunch and to buy some groceries. Our stop allowed the showers to catch up with us as we headed back to the highway. Lloydminster marks the border with Alberta/Saskatchewan. Saskatchewan is the only province neither of us has been in so we finally have stitched the two sides of Canada together. Very soon after entering Saskatchewan we noted how the land had seemingly instantly flattened. Although still not the endless fields we are expecting to eventually encounter, there is little geology poking its head above ground, just the odd clumps of trees interrupting an otherwise seamless horizon.

Originally, tornado warnings in Saskatoon, dampened our desire to visit it that day. North Battleford appeared to be a good compromise but when we arrived there at an early-ish 4:30 and checked the Saskatoon weather, the tornado warning had been cancelled so, the risk of ending up on an unscheduled side trip to Kansas having been lifted, we continued on towards Saskatoon.

The weather cleared as we continued east and we arrived at Saskatoon around 7:00. We quickly found an RV park along the Trans Canada. As our Milepost guide doesn’t cover Canada beyond Alberta we used our Woodalls guide and the internet to find campgrounds and their related reviews. The park was close to downtown and had treed lots, not something we expected in an urban setting. It was an empty the fridge night so supper was fast and we watched with interest on the local TV channel the funnel clouds and golf ball sized hail storms that had been happening all around us during the day. Having seen the damage done to Renee’s car by a hailstorm in Calgary I have no desire to encounter one of these prairie weather events.

Day 100 (OMG) – July 12

Partially to save time as we headed to meet Ken and Renee and partially to celebrate day 100 of our trek we skipped breakfast in the beautiful BRT and were on the road by 8:00 heading for Canmore for breakfast and possibly a sighting of Mike from CBC’s Air Farce. We drove through town and stopped at the Good Earth restaurant for breakfast and some wifi time. Canmore is like a Banff that shrunk in the laundry. Like Banff it is pristine with mountain views in every direction, even the odd Ferrari can be seen.

No signs of Mike – from Canmore

Outside of Canmore there were a lot more signs of road reconstruction in the wake of the recent floods. Roadside debris and sections of complete road washout were visible. The spectacular mountains of the previous day quickly passed into our rear view mirror as we headed east into the rolling grass covered foothills. The jagged grey and white edges of the Rockies were replaced with a rectilinear patchwork of greens and neon yellow fields that stretched in all directions under a huge blue sky spotted with building cumulus clouds.

Canola fields forever

We followed a leisurely route through the right angled network of secondary roads north and east through the fields until we reached Olds where we turned on to the #2 to pick up some speed. Our proposed lunch appointment with Ken in Ponoka threatened to become a supper engagement if we didn’t make better time.

Ken’s timing was perfect as he and his adopted dog Skeeter arrived at our appointed rendezvous, the Ponoka Tim Horton’s, only moments before us and surprised Diane by knocking at her door as soon as we parked. After a quick lunch and gassing up we headed towards Ken’s cottage at Red Deer Lake north of Calgary.

The cottage has half log siding on both sides of the exterior walls and natural pine finish boards on the interior partitions. Ken and Renee have been working on it for several years and with the exception of a few finishing touches it is complete, well appointed and very cozy. Kens homebuilt cedar strip canoe hangs over the patio doors and adds a great touch to the cottage decor. Renee was working and going to be late arriving at the cottage so we sat down without her to the delicious barbecued chicken supper that Ken had prepared.

The Cottage

Renee’s arrival later that night was signalled by the appearance of their original dog, Maggie, a Bouvier/Labrador cross, walking into the living room, much to Skeeter’s delight. We had a great night catching up on news and Ken’s new airplane servicing business.

Maggie and Skeeter chow down

Day 101 – July 13

As we had no plans to drive today so we slept in guilt free. Ken prepared a delicious cooked breakfast of eggs, bacon and home fries. After spending some time recovering from the breakfast feast we headed out with Ken to visit the Provincial Reynolds-Alberta museum in Wetaskiwin, about 30 minutes away. The museum has two main sections, each in its own building, one that emphasizes automobiles and farm equipment and the other that focuses on aeronautical history.

The automobile building has a great selection of vehicles ranging from a Dusenberg and a big finned Cadillac longer than the BRT to an array of vintage fire engines and tractors. There is a mock 50’s style garage with an area for kids to build little race cars and a mini drive-in theatre, complete with window speakers at each seat, playing vintage movie clips. There are electric, steam and gas powered vehicles dating from the early 1900’s, many cars from the 30’s, 40’s and 50’s in various stages of restoration, some of which you are even allowed to sit in.

It’s all fin until someone gets poked in the eye

The Dusenberg

There is a full in-house restoration shop you can view from above with several projects underway and a very interesting display of a vintage Dodge that has been half restored. One side is in original, rusted and dented condition and the other side has been painstakingly restored, really emphasizing the skill and effort required to bring a vehicle back from the brink.

The ‘shop’

A job half done

The aeronautical building, although somewhat smaller, has dedicated its perimeter walls to dozens of panels commemorating the fascinating lives of members of the Aviation Hall of Fame. The display boasts one of the few dully restored WWII vintage Hurricanes, an awesome fighting machine with its twelve .303 machine guns, a replica of Alexander Graham Bell’s Silver Dart, numerous helicopters and a lot of flight related paraphernalia.

The Hurricane

The drive back to the cottage took us through beautiful agricultural land with its brilliant canola fields contrasted against the darkening skies of an approaching storm front. Luckily the storm veered away and did not interrupt Ken’s steak barbecuing.

Sante

We ended the night with a campfire that eventually got called at around midnight due to showers that finally built into a full fledged rainstorm.

Day 99 – July 11

As we were only planning to have one night in Banff on our way to spend the weekend with our nephew Ken and his wife Renee in their cottage north of Calgary, we were up early and on the road. Our route was down the Icefields Parkway and what we had read and been told of its scenery was if anything understated. If the Yukon topped the Blue Ridge Mountains and Alaska trumped the Yukon, the Icefields Parkway through the Canadian Rockies just left us gobsmacked. The Rockies are simply just magnificent. This road is a neck wrecker, continuous spectacular scenery on both sides – majestic mountains, glaciers, waterfalls, turquoise lakes.

As it rises through the mountains the Icefields Parkway takes you from the meadowy, piney, montane valley floor near Jasper through the higher elevation of the thick spruce and fir forests of the subalpine zone to the treeless alpine zone and then back down again delivering you at Lake Louise. We stopped at Lake Louise because you can’t not stop at Lake Louise and look.

I was surprised at how small Lake Louise was, by my quick calculation if everyone standing around having their picture taken in front of the tidy bowl blue lake had joined hands they could have easily ringed the bowl. Regardless it is a spectacular setting, I just happen to enjoy my spectacles of nature in quieter surroundings so we took some obligatory photos and moved along.

Lake Louise

A million Kodak moments

Our next order of business was accommodations for the night. The two sites closest to Banff were along the Bow Valley Parkway and we settled on the Johnston Canyon Campground which was all dry camping but had showers. An interesting twist on buying firewood here was that you pay extra for a site with a fire pit but the wood is free. After a few snacks to hold us till supper we headed the 20 kilometres to Banff. There were some signs of damage from the recent floods along the way as road crews were active repairing washouts and cleaning debris from the road shoulders.

How best to describe Banff – well if you took equal parts of Disney World, the Gap and North Face, shook them together in a designer label purse, added a generous dose of German and Japanese accents with just a soupson of Australian for flavour and then smashed the whole thing against the foot of some mountains you would have Banff.

More so than Jasper, Banff is manicured and managed, almost contrived, you feel you are on a movie set. Every streetscape ends with a spectacular view of the mountains, there is no litter, no graffiti, no homeless people, they are not in the script.

Beautiful Downtown Banff

Everywhere a photo

We parked next to the museum, where two young female museum staff were set up in period clothing as prospectors, complete with canvas tent and fire over which they were asking passers by to cook bannock. We quickly took up their offer and cooked our already prepared bannock over their fire. A group of non English speaking Japanese tourists were there as well and amazingly, from almost 4 decades ago, we could recall the Japanese word for delicious, ‘oishii’, which surprised and pleased them as much as us and really impressed the two ‘prospectors’. Our bannock was delicious, maybe a new menu item for us.

Bannock to go

We walked around Banff for a while, a very pleasant town to explore and then took a drive up to the very impressive and imposing Bannf Springs Hotel, very swish indeed, but frankly I doubt if staying there is more fun than life in the BRT. Back at the campsite some much appreciated showers and a meal of barbecued bratwurst made for a great end to the day.

Day 97 – July 9

We wanted to tour some of Prince George before heading towards Jasper, our ultimate goal for the day. Our guide book recommended the Two Rivers Gallery as a highlight so it was our first stop after the 13 kilometre drive into town. While we enjoyed touring the beautiful building, the gallery was between shows so the displays were limited. However I did buy a small very reasonably priced framed watercolour in the well stocked gallery shop.

The Two Rivers Gallery was designed by Barry Johns, a well known Canadian Architect who graduated from the now DalTech School of Architecture in 1972. Its name was based on the confluence of the Fraser and Nechako Rivers where Prince George is situated and the curved douglas fir facade of the building is representative of the undercut banks of those rivers.

Two Rivers Gallery

When we asked the staff for a recommendation for a good coffee cafe we were directed to Simmy’s Bistro on George Street which we were told was run by a Newfoundlander who served great fair trade coffee and made an awesome seafood chowder. We headed in that direction, taking in some of the downtown scenery as we went.

Simmy’s was a nice clean cafe with a New York City decor theme. We were just about finished our coffee, tea and scone when the owner walked out from the kitchen. We struck up a conversation about Newfoundland and Corner Brook, where he was from, and before long he was showing us around outside and telling us about his plans to expand and put in a fish and chips side using his mother’s beer batter recipe. When we left he gave Diane a package of his special blend Fair Trade coffee. Again, one of those happy accidents that started out as a simple cup of coffee and ended up as a glimpse into someone’s life.

After a stop for gas we headed east on the #16 towards Jasper. We didn’t have much by way of tourist info for Jasper so we were going in without much of a plan, which was fine. At a prolonged traffic stop for road construction we had a chance to talk to a First Nations woman about the food fishery she was involved in when she wasn’t doing traffic control. Clearly very proud of her province she was pleased we found it so beautiful.

Further down the road we saw a couple of black bear cubs but no signs of momma. We were also slowly starting to catch glimpses of the Rockies rising around us. We stopped mid afternoon at McBride, population 740 for a break and lunch. Our guide book had recommended a restaurant in the train station which in a town of this size was easy to find. Our sandwiches were delicious and the locals very friendly, taking great interest in our trip.

The Rockies raise their head

As we continued on to Jasper the weather began to close in and we passed through periods of showers. Ahead the skies were clear, providing views of Mount Robson, the highest mountain in the Rockies. However behind us the weather appeared ominous and was closing fast. Each time we stopped to take pictures the front seemed to gain on us. As we drove into Jasper two elk grazing along the road were causing a small traffic jam as cars pulled over to take pictures.

Mt. Robson

Here comes the rain

Rush hour in Jaspar

Having lost an hour as we crossed into Alberta, we arrived in the town of Jasper just after the information centre closed at 7:30 so in the rain we headed for the closest campsite, Whistlers, where all the serviced sites were gone but dry camping sites were available. As it was raining I didn’t mind not having to work outside making all the connections.

The storm front quickly moved through and we were treated to a spectacular complete double rainbow. I can honestly say that I have never seen such an intense rainbow! At its end the rainbow literally glowed like it was plugged into some source of neon light.

Somewhere over the rainbows

Bluebirds fly

We are now really starting to see the light change as it is getting dark at night, al be it late at night, making it seem much more normal when we go to bed.

Day 96- July 8

With still no response from Graeme we were in the midst of a leisurely pack up when Graeme arrived, at the same time as his email telling us he was on his way. It was great to see him after so many months. After some catching up and a tour of the beast we followed Graeme to his favourite breakfast spot, the Silver Creek Cookhouse where we all had a very hearty breakfast. Despite my best efforts I could not finish my hot cakes with ham and eggs. It was great to have some time to catch up with Graeme and through him with Alex as well. Just as had happened with our visits with Erin and Casey, the realization that the ‘kids’ were now happy adults making their own way in the world sank in. Even vicarious parenthood has its satisfactions.

Breakfast at the Silver Creek Cookhouse

With a short backtrack we were on highway #29 heading towards Chetwynd on our way to Prince George. We drove through some agricultural land, a marked change from the landscape we had become used to. Large fields of yellow blossomed canola were a stark contrast to the greens of the surrounding hills. However as the Hudson’s Hope Loop Road passed the turnoff for the W.A.C. Bennett Dam (which we opted not to tour) we drove back into the heavily forested lands of the previous day.

The #29 joins the #96 at Chetwynd, a small community that might otherwise not warrant a stop if it were not for its wood sculptures. As host of a yearly chainsaw wood carving contest, the streets of Chetwynd are home to over a hundred very ambitious and well maintained sculptures. Each one has a plaque identifying the name of the piece and the carver. We parked in front of a couple of lunch wagons and looking back it seemed that my joking plan for converting BRT to a chip wagon when re return home might actually work.

Do you want the biggie fries with that?

Welcome to Chetwynd

The drive from Chetwynd to Prince George was interrupted by a couple of stops for photos and a lunch break and we arrived at the Hartway RV Park 8 miles north of Prince George. It was a private site with large nicely treed lots and full services. Although we arrived early enough to go into town we opted to relax and do some chores like laundry and blog posting. I also took the opportunity to work on our electric step which had decided to stop working (luckily in the retracted position) a couple of days before. With little real hope of fixing the unknown problem I surprised myself when I connected a couple of loose wires and it ground back to life with the added feature of a light that had never come on before. Nothing burst into flames or melted so I taped it up. Go figure.

Barbecued chicken was on the menu for the night which we ate while we caught up on all the disasters across Canada, train explosions in Quebec, floods in Toronto, plane crashes in several locations. Life in the bubble of the BRT seems all the more idyllic.

Day 95 – July 7

Encouraged by my success of the previous night I stood stream side shortly after 6:00, taking in the views both above and under the surface of the river. By 8:00 I had raised dozens of Grayling but had only caught one and I headed back to the BRT hopeful that I would stand in the Testa River again some day.

As we had a long drive to Fort Saint John planned for the day we thought that we would save some time by sampling some of the restaurants ‘famous’ cinnamon buns. At about half the price and a quarter the size of the Braeburn Lodge buns these were still warm from the oven and far superior to the Braeburn bun which took a collected effort of three days to dispatch.

The first community of note that we came to was Fort Nelson, our ambitious target of the previous day. Our Milepost Guide told us that the Fort Nelson Heritage Museum was worth the stop and it was right. A well organized if some what jam packed main building displayed everything from a full sized stuffed albino moose to boxes of bobby pins. You know you are getting old when you recognize the labels on items on display in a museum.

Bummer of a birthmark Fred

Beyond the main building were several out buildings, one of which housed a collection of antique automobiles, all in operating condition, but most in less than showroom condition. Of note was a 1908 McLuaghlin Buick which the owner and seemingly resident mechanic and handyman for the museum had driven on its 100th birthday from Fort Nelson to Whitehorse and back again, a distance of over 600 miles each way which was done in 6 days with no mechanical problems. After relating the story the impish white bearded owner pointed with a smile to a Model T that he had owned for 62 years.

1908 MaLaughlin Buick

Mourning the loss of the hood ornament

Mr. Fix-it

Most of the road after Testa River was straight and fairly uneventful both from a scenery and wildlife perspective. We passed through several showers and downpours, at one point having to pull off the road the visibility became so poor. Again it was nice to be able to retire to the back of the BRT, make a sandwich and put on a pot of tea while we waited for the rain to pass. After our late lunch break we continued on towards Fort Saint John under continually clearing skies.

There were a couple of provincial and private campgrounds in Fort Saint John, most of the clustered on the western end of the town. After a drive by of three of them we settled on the provincial park, Charlie Lake which, despite what you might insinuate from its name has no view of the lake. As I viewed the lake from the boat launch further down the road however I was not tempted to go fishing. Being so close to civilization the lake is ringed with cottages with all description of power boats speeding across its waters.

Being a dry camping park it took little time to set up. We spent some time planning our route for the following day and were playing a card game when we got an e-mail from Graeme (not Graham, like I would misspell it) telling us that he was in town and free the next day but that Alex had to work. We sent back a breakfast invitation to Graeme but didn’t get a response by the time we went to bed.

Day 94 – July 6

The Downtown RV Park in Watson Lake, although not a scenic wonder by any means, was a restful stop. We got to indulge a guilty vice and watched some TV as well as catch up on email and post to the blog. By comparison to some places where you had to soap up first to be able to slip into the shower stall the stalls here were large enough to hold a small meeting, like the Mike Duffy Fan Club AGM for instance, whose last posted membership list consisted of Mike and the missus.

Not far down the road outside Watson Lake we came across our first Wood Bison, posed nonchalantly roadside. Now we have seen Bison in zoos and on TV but it was very cool to be alongside one in I guess what you would call the wild. This was a freaking Bison right there, seemingly posing for my photographic gratification. Further down the road was a brace of even larger bull Bison walking single file down the shoulder of the road, really why would you plough through the woods when you had this really nice gravelled road shoulder to walk on, makes sense to me.

Our first Bison

No passing

Further on again a black blob in the grass verge of the highway turned out to be a medium sized black bear that was having a feast in the middle of a wild strawberry patch and wasn’t about to move off regardless of the several cars that pulled over behind us.

Straw beary fields

As the day wore on we were treated to a constant parade of wildlife, more Wood Bison along the road – definitely would not want to hit one of those bad boys, even with the BRT, they are built very solid. Luckily they seemed content with their turf on the road verges. At one point we rounded a corner to come face to face, literally in the middle of the road, with a flock of Stone Mountain (Gray) Sheep which included several ewes and a number of young that were busily licking the asphalt. We found out later that they lick the residual road salt off the asphalt. Non plussed by our horn or the vehicle for that matter we had to proceed slowly through them.

Getting in their licks

We made a side trip to the Liard Hot Springs which are in a much more natural setting than the the ones we had visited with Sean and Carla in Sol Duc, Washington. With newly renovated change rooms, platforms and ramps and very well kept grounds the hot springs are a great destination. The pools are actually two pools with a man made waterfall in between. The upper pool being the hottest of the two. Much hotter than one would pour a bath the upper pool reminded me of the scalding hot soaking tubs we used to look forward to every night in Japan as relaxation at the end of the day.

At the recommendation of repeat visitors we started at the lower end of the second pool and worked our way up to the upper pool just to say we did before retreating back to the lower pool. The high sulphur content of the water quickly turned my silver ring black, just as in Sol Duc. After bobbling about in the hot water like two victims in some comic strip cannibal cauldron we dried off and ran the gauntlet back across the mosquito infested boardwalk through the bog that surrounds the hot springs.

Liard Hot Springs

Back on the road we encountered a ram Gray Sheep also in the middle of the highway and were able to get some good shots. We stopped for lunch at Muncho Lake Provincial Park. At 12 kilometres long Muncho Lake is one of the biggest lakes in BC. Due to runoff from the nearby hills which leave suspended particles in the water the lake is a Caribbean aqua blue. There was lots of boating activity at the boat launch but judging from where they headed the fishing activity seemed to be located at the far end of the lake.

Muncho Lake

Later in the afternoon we came across three more Stone Sheep, this time a ram, ewe and one young along the guard rail, again licking the ground for salt. A photographer was busily taking photos with a lens the size of a bazooka. Although these sheep were more skittish than the flock we had encountered earlier, they were intent on getting their salt intake for the day and with some caution I could approach them and got some good shots.

Stone Mountain Sheep

You looking at me buddy?

The shot I was waiting for

Further along the road were several elk on the bank overlooking the road. Unfortunately an oncoming truck moved them off into the trees before I could get a photo. A bit later Diane saw a Cougar run along the road and stare back at her from the cover of the trees. Unlike Bison, Elk, and Stone Sheep, Cougars don’t pose for photo ops.

We were now actively searching for a place to spend the night. One likely spot was the Testa River Campground, a private campground that, according to our guide book, had water, power and wifi, as well as being on the Testa River, which I had noted earlier as the road paralleled it, was a beautiful crystal clear river, a nice bonus. As we pulled into the campground we were greeted by someone in a rocking chair on the porch of the log construction office that could best be described as a tattooed, hippie Santa Claus. An interesting mash up of styles.

He told us we were in luck and that his full house of the previous night had cleared and space was available. The services hookups were somewhat ad hoc. A water hose snaked across the grass from some octopus connection and the 15 amp power was an extension cord that ran back to the generator which we were told shut down at 9:00. Showers, laundry and washrooms were located in an Atco type trailer that had recycled freezer doors. In other places I might have found this unacceptable but at $18 a night and in this setting it strangely struck me as perfectly appropriate. Maybe it was the affable hippie Santa’s patter but I took it all as a package deal.

Tetsa River Lodge

Roasted chicken was on the menu so after helping Diane get that prepped and into the oven I headed off to the river, my full array of rods in hand. Another fisherman who was familiar with the campsite was ahead of me and led the way to the river. What a beautiful setting awaited me. Wide, cobble rocked, tree free banks skirted a crystal clear fast flowing river, a scene to bring tears to the eye and make the heart skip a beat. The other fisherman quickly moved to what appeared to be the prime spot to fish but as there were no shortages of spaces to fish I settled in downstream of him and began using my fly rod. He was using a spinning rod and after a few casts came over to talk and soon left the river to me. I moved up to the better spot and tried a variety of dry and wet flies to no avail. I could see Grayling in the water and some were rising to take flies off the water so I was optimistic, I just need to find the right fly.

After a while of no success I picked up my spinning rod, which never gets used at home, and cast to the far side of the wide river, well beyond my fly casting range. My daredevil lure was no more in the water before my line tightened and my rod bent. As I started to reel in I thought that my reel was broken it was labouring so hard. Then I saw the flash of the fish rolling in the water and I knew the reel was fine, I was into a good sized fish. After some battling and thrashing about I brought the fish to shore and released a 22″ Dolly Varden (another first for me) with a set of teeth that would not look out of place in a Jaws movie. Further casts were unproductive so I returned to my fly rod and caught a nice Grayling on a dry fly before returning to the BRT for a delicious if late-ish meal of roast chicken.

We retired feeling that we had had a fabulous day. The stretch of road from Watson Lake that we had travelled that day provided not only surprisingly beautiful scenery but also the greatest bounty or wildlife we had seen on the entire trip to date.

What a

day

we

had!

It amazes me that even after three months of travelling through incredible country a particular day will stand up, smack you in the face, and say I gave you my best, you will remember me for a long time. It had been a large day indeed.Thank you July 6.

Day 93 – July 5

A dirth of change the previous night meant that laundry duties moved to this morning. After that chore was completed a related but much more challenging chore awaited us, washing the beast. The cumulative collection of insect carcasses and dust from hundreds of kilometres of gravel roads had made the BRT somewhat unapproachable so this was a utilitarian rather than cosmetic exercise. In fact I had begun to become attached to the tough boy look of the biomass patina but the coating of dust that accumulated over the entire vehicle was starting to impact the intimacy of our vehicular relationship.

Safe to approach

There was a large bay car wash across the road from Hi Country RV Park so after a requisite grey water dump we headed over. Armed with a fist of loonies I began the assault which really was more of an exfoliation than a wash. After 10 minutes of blasting, brushing and rinsing the original colour of the beast began to reappear. In light of the roads yet undriven and bugs yet unsquashed still ahead of us I settled with approachable clean rather than huggable clean and by 10:45 we were headed in the general direction of Watson Lake.

Our goal was Liard Lake and its hot springs but considering the time devoured in the morning to ablutions, that seemed an unlikely target so our STC (subject to change) plan was drive until we didn’t want to drive any more and then start looking for accommodations. As it was a Friday in prime vacation time we were prepared for some challenges.

We made good time as we had driven over the same road on our way to Whitehorse and Alaska so there was little need to stop for photos. We stopped at Teslin for a coffee and then went to the rest stop just outside town to chip away a bit more at the Braeburn Lodge cinnamon bun.

It was further down the road that the wheels came off our schedule. As we crossed the Morley River bridge, which was noted in our Milepost guide as a good Grayling river, I thought it was worth checking out. As I walked to stream side I met a guy who was looking down into the water – not at the scenery, a dead giveaway for a fisherman. As we talked fish began to jump in the river and we both retired to our vehicles to break the news to our respective wives. Have I mentioned that I have a good wife?

Phil and his wife Lynn were from Vernon BC. Phil was a retired draftsman and an avid fly fisherman. We soon were both trying our hand at the river while Diane and Lynn commiserated about the life of a fishing widow. It wasn’t long before we were catching good sized fish, me from one side of the river and the other Phil from the opposite side. I was there for about 2 hours and had the best fun fishing I had had for weeks. Thus our schedule became STC.

Phil squared

Finally some fish

Based on our guides we knew that we had limited opportunities for campsites on the road ahead. Phil and Lynn had told us the Watson Lake campground was just a gravel parking lot so we stopped at Nugget City where we had had breakfast on our way to Whitehorse. Although not a great setting we were considering staying when a rude remark from the woman in the office put me back on the road. My money was not going into her pocket.

We decided to head towards Watson Lake regardless of the bad reviews, knowing that in the land of the midnight sun we could just keep on driving. As we pulled into Watson Lake we came across the Signpost Forest. Dating back to 1942 by a US Army soldier working on the Alaska Highway. There are hundreds of posts with a total of 72,000 signs of various descriptions attached varying from legitimate street and road signs to licence plates, homemade signs and other artifacts. We saw signs from Pugwash and a NS licence plate.

The Signpost Forets

Not far down the road was the Downtown RV Park which as promised was a gravel lot but as it was 7:00 and there was lots of space we opted to stay and take advantage of the full amenities. Supper was leftovers as we relaxed from our usual prep and cleanup chores.

Day 91 – July 3

We pulled out of the Goldrush at about 9:30 and stopped at the cultural centre which had been closed the night before. It didn’t open until 10:00 so we went across the street (everything is close across the street in Dawson) to the Dawson City information centre and then to the NWT information centre where we wanted to get some info on the Dempster Highway as we were considering driving part way up it. We were entertained by one of the staff Dawn who berated us for not bringing lobsters from Nova Scotia before she turned her attention on the other tourists from, as she called it, Onterrible. We got directions as to how far up the Dempster Highway would give us a taste of this 734 kilometre long highway that ends beyond the Artic Circle in Inuvik.

As we left Dawson City we gassed up and then heading east drove miles through the tailing piles left from decades of dredge mining along the Yukon rivers. These ridged piles of tailings were dumped from the end of the floating dredges that scooped large buckets of the river beds up on one end, processed them for gold with the river water and then piled the residual rocks behind as the dredge laid waste to the landscape, forever altering it. At times a big dredge could harvest 50 pounds of gold a day from a river, clearly an incentive to ignore the environmental impact of the effort. In today’s market that is almost a one million dollar daily payday.

Tailings

About a half hour outside of Dawson City we turned left onto the historic Dempster Highway which started construction in 1959 and officially opened in 1979. After the first 8 kilometres the paving stopped and the highway became a well packed gravel road. We drove the 71.5 km to the Dempster Interpretive Centre where we sampled a tea made by the host from Labrador Tea and Fireweed that she collects daily. It was very tasty.

In the parking lot were three men from Toronto trying to use a coat hanger to open the door of their rental SUV. Anyone who has been locked out of their car can emphasize with that grief. According to them their vehicle locked itself while the keys were inside. After two hours of trying they had no success and no tools from the BRT helped their cause. When we left they were on a satellite phone in the centre discussing smashing out a window. We saw them later in the day with a garbage bag taped over their back window.

As had been suggested at the Interpretive Centre in Dawson we drove to the top of the next hill, where we were beyond the tree line and at N64-32-45.7 we stopped, marking the most northerly point of our trip, and headed back down the Demptster and then towards Whitehorse. This stretch of the Klondike Highway is not particularly scenic so we had few interruptions for photos. As we were running a bit behind our schedule for the day we began to look for a campsite. Our first choice at Ethel Lake was closed, the first time we have encountered this, so even though it was later than we usually drive we continued on to our original goal of Tatchum Lake where we arrived around 7:00.

Along the Dempster

N64-32-45.7

Next time…

Located 8 kilometres down a dirt road we hoped that this would be a good place to stay and, despite some initial concerns about mosquitoes, it proved to be a comfortable spot. Conveniently located on a lake with a nice new dock, I was able to fish that night, and despite signs of fish around was only able to catch one Whitefish, a new species for me.

Two couples who were out on the lake fishing in boats returned with stories of several large Pike that they had caught and released. I returned to our campfire to find Diane happily sitting there bug free reading her book. We sat out until about 11:30 in the bright light before retiring for the night.

Tatchun Lake

Day 92- July 4 Happy Birthday Uncle Sam (and Jason)

I was up at 6:00 to try my hand at catching one of those Pike that I now knew were in the lake. I had heard a couple of loud splashes in the weeds the night before so I waded the lake shore fishing for an hour but to no avail except at one point almost walking on one that was lurking in about a foot of water. My efforts yielded a nice walk on a beautiful calm morning while being serenaded by a pair of loons, a pretty good start to any day.

By the time we reached Carmacs we were ready for a break so we stopped at ‘The Barracks’, which was the local cafe/post office where we had a great visit with the postmistress who was an Ontario transplant. We also met the manager of the local greenhouse, a First Nations woman who in her youth was a single mom of two and a battered wife. Now successful and happy while being a two time cancer survivor she was an inspiration for taking charge of your own life.

Outside three young women had set up the weekly market where they were selling home made baked goods, eggs, and some produce and we visited with them for a while. One of the best parts of this trip has been these unplanned, accidental stops where over a coffee and muffin people offer you a glimpse into their lives and you get to walk away richer. It had only just turned noon and we already had had an awesome day.

The Carmacs market

After a couple of stops to explore potential fishing spots we stopped at the ‘famous’ Braeburn Lodge where we bought one of their ‘world famous’ cinnamon buns. We had sampled one of these on our last trip to the Yukon and not much has changed in the intervening time, these buns are the size of a grown man’s head and could easily feed four, although in this case two of us had to make do.

Nice buns

We stopped for lunch at Fox Lake (no fish) and then drove on to Lake Labarge after a brief stop at Fox Creek bridge (2 grayling). The visit to Lake Labarge was to return the bear spray that I had mistakenly made off with from my guide when I was fishing two weeks earlier.

Fox Lake

We continued on to Whitehorse and signed in at Hi Country RV where we had stayed on our way through and then headed towards town for provisions. As we were leaving the park there was a group of young hikers trying to get all of their possessions into a taxi. We could see that it all wasn’t going to fit and when we found out they were going to town we offered to take some of the load and a couple of them with us. They were English and heading to the NWT to mountain climb.

After getting gas, propane, groceries, beer and wine we stopped by the Fireweed Community Market that was being held in the Shipyards Park in downtown. There was a hodge lodge of crafts, food, information booths and musicians – a very energetic spot. We returned to Hi Country and set up. Our neighbours on the next lot were planning their trip down through BC so we offered some travel assistance (we made sure to warn them off the mosquito infested Meziadan Lake).

The Fireweed Community Market

After showers (two days of dry camping) we had barbecued turkey burgers and then to bed – 6:00 AM seemed a very long time ago.

Day 90 – July 2

Our wake up alarm (4:30) was clad in feathers this morning in the form of several seagulls who were squabbling over something in the nearby river. Without having to resort to a rock for a snooze button the noise finally abated as we awaited a more timely alarm at 7:00.

We awoke (the second time) to clear sunny skies and were on the road at a lazy 9:00, heading for the US/Canada border. Reports on the radio of over 100 wildfires in the interior of Alaska confirm that the cloudy and rainy weather we had been experiencing along the coast for the last couple of days have been isolated to those areas.

Not far from our campsite was the turn off for the Top Of The World Highway which would be the most northerly leg of our trip. Shortly after turning off we passed through miles of standing burned trees, a testament to the scale of wildfires in Alaska. This fire burned 1.3 million acres of land in 2004 but the forest is rapidly regenerating.

About an hour and a half along the road we came to Chicken, Alaska which, since its hey day of gold mining, now is in the business of marketing its unique and unassuming name. Originally named Ptarmigan the locals found the spelling too challenging so they switched the name to Chicken, never assuming that this stroke of a pen might be the future economic base of their community. Effectively not a town at all, but a collection of three RV parking lots, a gas station, restaurants and shops you could easily drive past if it were not for all of the signs promoting it. In the shops there is endless merchandise working the Chicken pun: I got (laid), (plucked), (etc.) in Chicken just being one variant. You cannot leave Chicken without smiling. We stopped for a coffee and left with a laugh – a pretty good deal on any day.

Proud to be Chicken

Downtown Chicken

Beyond Chicken the Top of The World Highway, which had earlier turned to gravel, became a ‘narrow’ gravel road requiring some caution when large vehicles approached as in many spots the banks were steep, in the order of 1000 feet, and rocky. Although the hey day of the gold rush may be over there is still lots of gold mining activity as witnessed by several scenes of people panning gold along the Dennison South Fork and Walker Fork Rivers. We also saw some small scale ‘placer mining’ operations where heavy machinery was scraping off the overburden of soil to access the potentially gold bearing soil below that was then sluiced with the waters of the river. Based on the stream side activity I saw, I assume that Alaska has very different stream habitat laws than other areas.

Approaching the border there was major widening of the road underway in areas where the banks are steepest. We found one of the infrequent pull offs in the road where we enjoyed lunch from The Top of The World, another check on my personal bucket list. At many points you could see the road, curving up the sides and along the ridges of the hills ahead. We crossed the border just after 1:00, losing an hour as we reset our watches to Pacific Time.

Lunch at Top of The World

We soon arrived at the outskirts of Dawson City, signalled most notably by the proliferation of billboards along the highway. We looked into a provincial park to the west of the town but since there was a ferry ride between it and Dawson City we opted to cross over the Yukon River just once and try one of the downtown sites, knowing that we were probably sacrificing the quiet of the wooded unserviced sites for a gravel parking lot, hookups and walking access to downtown but also foregoing multiple ferry rides. Once we saw the line up for the ferry we were glad of that decision. While there was only 6 to 8 vehicles on our side, on the far side, exiting Dawson City, was a line up of large RVs stretching well up the shore line.

On our side were two full sized tour busses and a large 5th wheel trailer. Following the advice of one of the locals who pulled in after us we moved into the RV line out of the bus line. We didn’t make the first crossing which gave us an opportunity to watch the crossing, and truly consider if this was a wise choice. The Yukon is wide and very fast at this point and the ferry is smaller than say the LaHave Ferry. It runs aground and stays there by keeping the engine powered. Upon disembarking the far shore it is quickly swept downstream, far below the loading point on the other side. Crab like it steams into the current, all the while loosing ground, until it hits the slower waters of the far shore where it steams back upriver to unload the vehicles.

As I watched the bus roll on from our side I was very glad to wait my turn for the next boat. We made it on the next trip, about 20 minutes later and shared the foredeck very intimately with the 5th wheel which the crew delicately directed to within inches of the side of the beast. Insect covered or not I had no interest in finishing the trip without any side to the BRT so we anxiously awaited the challenge of disembarking on the far side. We made the crossing with the windows rolled down and a watchful eye on the life jacket locker.

Ferryly full

Striking up a conversation with one of the deck hands we found out that some of the vehicles on the far side had been waiting 4 hours to make the crossing. Once the ramp dropped we began a 5 minute ballet of trying to get the 5th wheeler off without taking a goodly piece of the BRT with it. One of the deck hands who either had no sense of direction or depth perception kept on giving bad directions to the other driver. Luckily for all concerned the driver was very expert and other crew members, seeing the impending disaster took over directing traffic and we finally rolled off, none the worse for wear.

Strangely it felt very good to roll into Dawson with the BRT. Although we had already been to many places that we had visited on our last trip with the other members of the Armadillo it suddenly occurred to me, admittedly very late in the trip, that we were doing just what we had said we wanted to do several years ago. So often we all say that we should do something or other and nothing ever comes of it. We had all said that we wanted to do this and we had done just that, brought a dream into reality, and it felt good. Thanks to everyone in the Armadillo we made it happen.

We signed into the Goldrush Campground and were directed to one of the smallish sites still available. Once settled in we headed downtown, about 5 minutes away, to have a meal at the Greek restaurant, The Drunken Goat, where we had had a great meal on our last trip.

Welcome to the Goldrush

Walking through Dawson City is an experience. At its peak, during the gold rush, Dawson City was the largest city in western Canada. Photos show the streets, sidewalks and even roof tops teeming with people seeking their fortune. Trying to make their own dreams a reality. Today Dawson City is some where between a movie set, a ghost town and a proud survivor of a by gone era trying to reinvent itself.

Has history….needs work

Our dinner was tasty and generous, with ample left over for a meal the following night. The walk back to the BRT was quiet as today, unlike many years ago, Dawson City does sleep.