“I sounded my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world.”
I don’t know if Whitman ever made it up to this corner of the world, but his words are fitting. The majesty and grandeur of rolling mountains, crystaline glaciers and lakes, deep green forests and a sky bluer than you ever thought blue could be.
I’ll have to go back about a month to fill y’all in. Bec and I left Vancouver on June 2, taking a marathon 11 hour drive north through sleet and rain to Prince George. Not recommended. The next five days saw us driving west on the Yellowhead Hwy and north on the Cassiar. We camped within view of glaciers and snow-capped mountains, by snow rimmed streams, and spent our days spotting black bears and moose grazing by the roadside, with a backdrop of brilliant green meadows sprinkled with golden wildflowers.
At the tiny town of Carcross we discovered the world’s smallest desert. A lot smaller than your average beach, but surprising to find so far north.
The Alaskan port of Skagway was as pretty and immaculate as a picture postcard. The Victorian storefronts and boardwalks have been restored to tourist-pleasing spelndour and the shopping was to match!! We quickly discovered the Skagway Brewing Company and spent several pleasant hours sampling their specialties such as Spruce Tip Ale – first brewed by Captain Cook no less when he ran out of hops for his onboard brewery. Beer and history combined! Just my cup of tea.
We hiked a couple of hours along the famous Chilkoot Trail, one of two strenuous routes used by the first Klondike gold rush stampeders. One day I’ll have to come back and do the whole five days.
We met some Californian police SWAT members and the local brewmeister and were invited to a local houseparty – free food and beer under a glacier-capped mountain and the almost midnight sun!!!
We put the car on a ferry to Haines and spent a couple of days driving north through Alaska, BC, Yukon and back into Alaska. We decided to bypass the Denali Hwy as we were slightly alarmed by the “rough road and gravel” warnings. Half of the highways we had been taking were full of potholes and gravel, without being signposted as such, so who knows what the real deal would be!!
So we looped up via Fairbanks and down to Denali National Park entrance. It has long been a dream of mine to visit this 6 million acre wilderness. Our first day we went on a ranger-led walk, starting about 37 miles into the park. After a very cold and wet stream crossing we spent the next four or five hours tramping across the tundra, spotting moose, wold and caribou tracks and marvelling at the diversity of tiny, colourful wildflowers in a place that only has three months without snow!
We had to skip lunch when we spotted a grizzly bear further down the mountain just as we were about to stop to eat. We were far enough away that we weren’t in any danger but they can move terribly quickly. For such a large creature he disappeared into the willow scrub very easily and it was then we realised the sense of us having to walk around saying ‘hey bear’ all day, to alert them to our presence. Apparently a startled bear is a mean bear!
The following day we took a shuttle bus 66 miles into the park. The rules are very strict – no private cars on the only road in the entire wilderness. Keeps the impact down. So it was a bumpy eight hour journey but worth it to be able to say at the end of it that we had lost count of the number of grizzly bears we saw! It was like we were in a cage rolling through their world, where they were sleeping on their backs in the sun, foraging on roadside banks and gambolling across the hilltops. We also saw fox cubs rumbling with their mother, curly horned Dall sheep scrambling up rocky cliff faces, golden eagles soaring on the breeze and caribou and moose moseying along the creek beds. Such wildness and wilderness.
As if that wasn’t enough, the day after we decided to splurge and take a flight over the Alaska Range. We hadn’t been fortunate enough to see Mt Denali (McKinley) from the park, as she is more often than not shrouded in clouds. At 6,193 m she is the highest mountain in North America. We chose the clearest, most perfect morning for our flight in a tiny red Cessna, with clear views all the way down to Anchorage (a long way away!).
Ray, our pilot, was your typical bush pilot – leather vest and baseball cap. The plane was parked right next to his house and the runway looked just like a stretch of gravel alongside the old train tracks. He took us out for nearly an hour and a half, flying low over the grassy hills and tundra searching for moose and bear, then gradually soaring higher and higher as the mountains rose up beneath us. Green and brown turned to glistening, blinding white as we headed straight for Mt Denali. We rose as high as 14,000 ft, as effortless as an eagle, peering down on the jagged peaks and frozen glacier flows. I think I took about three rolls of film of that magical wonderland!
Leaving Denali we took a short day, stopping in Fairbanks. A lovely grassy campground was about the best the place had to offer. A strange, depressing jumble of ugly buildings. Not worth stopping at.
The bumpy Taylor Hwy took us to Chicken. Yes indeed. Chicken, Alaska, population about 70. ‘Downtown’ boasts of three storefronts – the Mercantile Emporium, Saloon and Liquor Store and Café (no chicken burgers or eggs on the menu today – all out!!!). We camped for free down by the creek and spent a rowdy evening in the saloon swapping stories with the locals. I learnt how to goldpan and how to tan a moosehide (use their brains apparently, works a treat!). Fortunately they were out of gunpowder as they have a tradition of coaxing the ladies to donate their undies which are then stuffed into a mini cannon they keep behind the door and fire them across the “parking lot”. I kid you not. The ceiling of the saloon was completely draped with the results, as well as baseball caps, t-shirts, business cards from visitors over the years. Definitely a unique evening.
Leaving Chicken we took the ‘Top of the World’ Hwy down to Dawson City. We seemed to be looking down onto mountains that stretched out beyond the horizon, no sign of humans anywhere.
The hostel in Dawson City is the most unique I have ever seen. The tent spaces each had a wooden pallet, to keep you smooth and dry above the gravel. There were several cosy log cabins scattered about with bunk beds, an open air covered kitchen, terrace with a fabulous view of the fast flowing Yukon River, and the bath house! A woodburning stove held a drum of hot water which you scooped into pails and mixed with cold creek water and threw the combination all over yourself. Puts the fun back in the bathing experience!
We hired a canoe and loaded it up with supplies and my tent and pointed the prow downstream. Due to a rapid snowmelt the Yukon was running about 10 knots an hour, much faster than normal. Which would have been grand but the wind decided it wanted to blow south against us so we ended up having to do a lot more paddling than we wanted to. But still, it was an incredible three days of quiet and solitude, paddling from Dawson City, Yukon down to Eagle, Alaska. There’s no human development in between anymore, but the first night we camped at 40 Mile, an abandoned gold rush town, once home to a couple of thousand people, now a dozen derelict buildings, only one cabin done up, in which we were thankful to escape the dreadful swarms of mosquitoes. Bigger, nastier and more numerous than I have ever seen. Enough to drive you insane, like in a horror movie. Shelly and Sebastian, who own the cabin only live there in winter and leave it open to passersby in the summer. Very interesting to read the visitor book, and to walk around the town where the first discovery of gold on the Bonanza Creek (start of the Klondike gold rush) was announced.
On the third day we saw a moose and her calf on the river bank and on running away from us the calf fell in and started swimming towards us. We had heard stories about ferocious mother moose so this was not a situation we wanted to stay in. Had to back out and battle the wind till we were further downstream. They were very displeased with our presence!!!
On arriving in Eagle, a little wet and bedraggled (got a bit damp on disembarking!) we retreated to the diner for some hot food. At our camp for the second night (a battle through the scrub and mosquitoes) we couldn’t eat in the tent as we were in bear country and the mosquitoes were too horrible to sit outside for long. The customs guy found us in the diner (very relaxed little town was Eagle) and cleared us to hop on the luxurious catamaran ferry back to Dawson City. In four hours we covered what had taken us nearly three days! Still, I think I like the slower method better!
A long drive took us to Whitehorse, the biggest city in the Yukon. Again, not much happening there though. Sampled some Chilkoot Brew Co. beverages (cranberry wheat ale being a standout!) and slept. From there we went to Liard Springs, natural thermal pools tucked away in a luscious tropical valley, the surrounding mountains sprinkled with fresh snow. The water was about 40 degrees Celcius so we couldn’t stay in for long but it was fabulous way to relax.
Then on to Dawson Creek – no cute and fashionable adolescents hanging around here. Typical small town – bad style, scary malls and gossipy oldies! The fun is definitely in the villages and wilderness out here!
So we have now settled into Calgary. I have a job at Stampede for the next ten days. Cowboy hat and jeans are de rigeur and should be in for some crazy times.
