The Last Frontier - Alaska

Saturday, July 28, 2007 - The Top of the World


We had kept our fingers crossed that it wouldn’t rain for the 300-kilometre route across the Top of the World and it worked – a sunny and clear day greeted us.

The Top of the World Highway from Dawson, Yukon to Tok, Alaska teeters around the rounded mountaintops and sharp ridges and looks down at steep-cliffed canyons below. Travel books warned that it was a hazardous road to navigate.

Now, some people told us “Piece of cake – I took my rig and tow vehicle across and it was fantastic”. Others said “Good on the Canadian side – not so good on the US side”. And others “It was a nightmare” and “It took us all day”. Who should we believe? The alternate route would be to retrace our steps south to Whitehorse and then west to Alaska – triple the miles. Caravan groups do it – so how bad could it be.

Full of gas, we drove onto the tiny ferry in Dawson to cross the Yukon River. The Canadian portion of the road is 110 kilometres and our expectation of it being paved was dashed. It was washboard gravel with short patches of pavement. The jarring of the surface on Maggie was tortuous if we drove above 15kph and sometimes even slower. When tanker and semi-trailer trucks passed us at full speed in the opposite direction, they wouldn’t slow down and we braced ourselves for rocks being thrown and for the huge cloud of dust they’d leave in their wake – we couldn’t see a thing until the cloud dissipated. And damn it….the chip that Hank fixed yesterday has started to crack not towards the centre of the windshield, thank goodness. So that $35 job wasn’t a very good one.

It was a tense drive, so we stopped for lunch in a rest area to take a break from the shaking and dust – and lo! When we got back on the road, the last ten miles to the border was smoothly paved. A funny little US border station sits high up near the top of the pass. It was visible way ahead and looked rather like one you’d see in the Khyber Pass. Same old questions from the border official:
“Do you have any alcohol?”
“How long will you be in the US?”
“Where’s the beef?”

The initial US portion of the road, which we had been warned about, was dirt for 30 miles - as far as Chicken but it was smooth and so much better than the washboard. The precarious curves and narrow roadway above steep canyons were no problem. Along this stretch ran a gently gurgling stream – it was obviously concealing gold because all sorts of grizzled old prospectors were sluicing and dredging and hammering. I knew they were prospectors by their long white beards and hair, their plaid flannel shirts, their suspenders holding up baggy jeans, which were tucked into well-worn boots :-)

Chicken with a population of 36, was really supposed to be Ptarmigan but no one could spell it, so they called it what they usually referred to the bird by – Chicken. It’s purely a service wayside now but its roots were in gold mining – what else! .Just past Chicken, we found the most perfect boondocking site – well off the road, level, views over the previously burned, now covered with fireweed terrain below and no people for miles. The silence was absolute.


Sunday, July 29, 2007
Can’t believe we are so lucky to wake to day after day of splendid sunshine. An unexpected visitor arrived this morning – he stood there only a few feet away gazing up at us through the window. He was a bit skittish but if we moved slowly, he stood his ground. I think he was looking for Caesar who had been out walking about ten minutes before. Our caller was a large red arctic fox with a patch of white on the end of his tail. He skirted an arc around the side of the motorhome, looking at us all the time then eventually sauntered off into the woods.


A geocache drew us back to downtown Chicken - we could have camped overnight with electricity behind the gas station/store at no charge if we’d filled with gas but we were so much happier in the wilds with no one else around, rather than crammed in side by side


It was maintenance morning so Fernie greased the jacks, cleaned the solar panel, checked batteries, tires, etc not leaving our spot until 11:30. We stopped at Tok, not that far down the road to continue housekeeping duties. The Tesoro gas station offered free wash with every fill, so we washed both the Honda and Maggie. The mud that poured off the Honda was amazing – Maggie was not so bad. They both looked sparkling when we drove off the lot, but that didn’t last long. Then on to the laundromat. What a tiring day – don’t like this housekeeping stuff.

We’ve noticed a big difference between the Canadian north and the USA north – Americans take commercialism to the Nth degree as we just witnessed at Chicken & Tok. Not saying that Canadians don’t cater to the tourists because they do……just look at Dawson City - but they don’t carry it to the same level. However, there’s also a huge difference in population – the entire Yukon only has a few over 30,000 inhabitants while Alaska has more than 670,000 – almost 275,000 of them in Anchorage.

We boondocked along the Alaska Hwy in a very pleasant rest area with a great view. Why would anyone want to be in one of those crammed campgrounds when all of Alaska is available.

Monday, July 30, 2007
A sprinkle of rain – that’s refreshing, but it was otherwise very warm. Delta Junction is the official end of the Alaska Hwy and the Richardson Hwy takes over for the journey to Fairbanks.

A couple of geocaches in Delta Junction took us for a walk around the burg. There’s an armed forces base nearby and convoys of hummer type vehicles roared through the town as massive propeller airplanes soared low to land not far off. National Security beefed up the forces in this area in 2002 as they did all over the USA. Why is it that they still use propeller planes? I thought they were bombers but Fernie says they are Hercules freight-carrying aircraft.

Our Milepost book warned us to watch for moose at mile 284 and again at mile 309. We scorned the suggestion but were absolutely amazed that just past MP284, a cow moose stood right beside the road chewing placidly on the vegetation. It must be on the government payroll! So what do you think we thought when at mile 309, another moose – this time a young male – ambled along while snacking. An idiot trucker barrelling along the road roared by us while blaring his horn – it frightened the moose into galloping into the bush but what if it had ran onto the road instead. I guess the trucker doesn’t like gawking tourists.

Another beautiful wayside along the wide basin of the Tanana River was our home for the night. Stopping early, we really got to enjoy it.

Tuesday, July 31, 2007


Light rain overnight finished by the time we got up but it stayed overcast for a while. We noticed yesterday while towing the Honda that the brake lights on the car stayed on when we parked. However, Fernie didn’t notice any drag while driving so we surmised it was an electrical problem….maybe all the gumbo from those gravel and mud highways is mucking up a connection somewhere. I pumped the Honda’s brakes and the lights went off. Then this morning we had to fool around for a while to make sure the brake lights went off and on properly. Gotta get that looked at.

The scenery between Tok and Fairbanks was pretty blah! So far, Alaska hasn’t been anywhere near as scenic as the Yukon. There hasn’t been much wilderness along this stretch of the Alaska Highway. Driveways and mailboxes are regularly apparent. Another large Air Force Base, Eielson, sits just outside Fairbanks. Americans really do take their security seriously. Signs along the highway pronounce” No Parking”, “No stopping”, “No photography”. Yet another armed forces base closer into town – regiments of dark and stealthy-looking vehicles travelled down the roads – kind of spooky, if you ask me.


North Pole is a suburb of Fairbanks – 12 miles east of town. It was conceived to draw the attention of a major toy manufacturer to the area but none thought manufacturing and distributing from Alaska was an economically feasible idea. Local entrepreneurs have grabbed onto the Xmas theme though and shops and RV parks follow it. Gargantuan Santas and candy canes grace the business fronts; street names echo the idea with names such as Santa Claus Lane. A bit of a racket, the big seller in the Xmas shops is the choice of a pre-written letter from Santa personally inscribed to the intended recipient. Some of the categories to choose from:
- “Non-religious adult”
- “Religious”
- “For troubled times”
- “For a divorcee”
- “For a bad or troubled child”
etc.

The traffic on the freeway came to a full stop ahead of us as we approached Fairbanks – what could be happening? It soon became apparent as the traffic in both directions inched forward – a duo of moose strode across the highway in no particular hurry. After all the miles of wilderness we’ve travelled with nary a wildlife sighting, we enter an urban environment and there they are.

Pioneer Park, a theme park close to the city centre memorializes the late 19th century society that sprang up around the gold fever. An old stern-wheeler, a rotting railway car, mine shafts & equipment, authentic cabins moved from their original locations and now used as tourist shops, Victorian theatres, a miniature railroad and turn of the century houses are all situated along the twisting Chena River. This is where they offer the ‘Alaska Salmon Bake’ and the ‘Victorian Revue’ following dinner. It’s run by the city of Fairbanks and they’ve allowed overnight RV parking in their large parking lot for a fee - $12/night.
“Exorbitant!” I choked until I turned my computer on and found an excellent wifi signal. That settled it – we stayed for three days. There was lots of room and we weren’t crammed in with other RVs and three days in one spot was just what we needed..

We got to know Fairbanks quite well in the three days – we geocached every corner and I do believe the toughest caches we’ve ever encountered are here. Several skunked us. On one of the great hikes in the forest, we followed the ‘poopie’ trail of a moose but he stayed well ahead of us. Had we seen bear dung, I’d have been long gone.

Wednesday, Aug 1, 2007
The Honda’s engine was totally encrusted with mud after the Dempster expedition so we took it in for an engine cleaning, oil change and general checkup. The filth was probably the reason that the brake lights wouldn’t extinguish.

The car was in for a couple of hours, so we looked for a place to have breakfast and found the Hometown Café. The décor was most unusual…Hawaiian wallpaper with Chinese paintings, Xmas garland with red ornaments hanging from them, giant plastic swordfish, floral fabric swathed to look like sails, faded plastic flowers – a melee of bad taste. What a dive…. but a clean one and the breakfast was good.


There was still time left so we strolled up the road to The Prospector’s Store and on the way passed a sign for a veterinary clinic “one block around the back”. Caesar’s eye was still infected so we went in to talk to them. The 80 year old vet said “Bring him in after 3 o’clock” which we did Dr. Buckley who had been in Alaska since 1952 was paralysed on the right side of his face after a stroke.
“One of my eyes doesn’t close” he said while demonstrating. It was a bit grotesque. I was a worried that he couldn’t see out of the eye when he brandished his rechargeable clippers and proceeded to shave poor Caesar’s face – well half of it. He used his own situation as an analogy to Caesar’s. :He’s older than all of us” he said of Caesar with a chuckle – computing Caesar as 13 years old x 7 = 91 in comparable human years. Caesar’s shave was a trifle lopsided but Dr. B lectured as he shaved; on how we should cleanse and treat the infected eye. I think he took off more fur than was necessary but he was 80 and he was operating on only one eye himself. Caesar’s good looks are certainly compromised but I guess his health comes first. So, now we’re calling Caesar ‘Patch’ - he looks so funny with his big shaved pink and black eye.

Note: Don’t read the following if you’re squeamish

Our groomer told us before we left home that Caesar’s anal glands were impacted and to have them cleansed by a vet. We hadn’t had the opportunity to get around to it so asked Dr. Buckley.
“Now, this is something you can do yourself” he said to me “you just come over to this side of the table and I’ll show you. Fernie, who was holding Caesar down had his eyes tightly closed so I was the obvious candidate for anal gland cleansing instruction. YUCK! He showed me where to place my fingers and how much pressure to use and how to strip it. It was sort of like milking a cow – not that I’ve ever done that , but I’ve seen it done on TV.
“Now, young lady” he said to me “don’t you do this just before you expect company” he grinned crookedly – the other half of his face had no expression “because your hands will stink to the high heavens for hours after – you can’t wash the smell off”. Gee, and I thought I’d never have to nurse an old man – that’s why I married a younger man.

I took Caesar out to the car as soon as he was finished and left Fernie to settle up with Dr. B. He was in there an awful long time – Dr. B was reminiscing and telling him naughty stories of his first clients when he came to Alaska.
“The whores loved their little dogs” he said “and they always paid cash - they’d come in here in their scanties and they’d pay anything to have their little pooches looked after”.

A trip to the oldest cemetery in Fairbanks initiated by a geocache was an interesting visit. Right downtown at the foot of a street labelled “Dead End”, the graveyard was the final resting place for many gold miners who had died by tunnels collapsing, freezing to death, murder or other wayward means. The houses bordering the cemetery were particularly rundown and messy. In one yard, three beautiful chows threatened us over their dangerously short fence. “Shud-uppppp!” a woman yelled from within when the dogs went into a chorus of frenzied barking.
“Sorry, it’s our fault” I called out “we were admiring your dogs and they were just protecting their property” (you’ll never see me stick up for people the way I will for animals). A fortyish woman came out and we asked about her dogs which opened her right up. Half an hour later we had her whole life story and that of Mismo, her youngest chow. Mismo for Missoula, Montana. “I gotta get back there – that’s my home but I just can’t seem to afford the move – things are awful expensive up here in Alaska”
“You ain’t never felt cold like the cold in Alaska in the middle of winter – they think Montana’s cold – huh! I could go outside in my shorts on their coldest day. There’s some mornings, my dogs won’t go out ‘cause it’s so cold – they’d rather hold it” she said with a grin “but I push em out and they're finished in no time and back in the warmth”

While we were gathering Geocache info from a miners’ memorial plaque, the resident caretaker popped up beside us “You lookin’ for anyone in particular?” he asked
“No, No – just interested in the history” we lied. He went on to tell us of the body, which was in pieces in one of the graves and the gravestone that kept getting stolen and how the ‘injuns’ would come to town and get drunk in the cemetery smashing bottles on the headstones.
“I’m runnin’ for mayor’ he announced with pride. My eye was caught by the big button on his cotton hat that declared “Dissent is patriotic”

It was only a short walk from Maggie over to the Salmon Bake in Pioneer Park, so we thought we’d try it. Tables were spread out under trees in the shade and on the lawn in the evening sunshine and there weren’t too many vacant spots. I looked around at the hordes of people chowing down, elbows on tables, faces almost in their dishes with absolutely no conversation between shovel-fulls of food and searched for a private table. “All you can eat” doesn’t bring out the best. We ended up sitting with a couple about to embark on a Holland America ship in Anchorage. They’d had a two-week bus tour of Alaska first. I don’t know how they could stand two weeks on a tour bus. As well as grilled salmon, they had cod, halibut and prime rib – salads, rolls and the obligatory baked beans and a variety of desserts. Fernie picked up a bottle of chardonnay and we really enjoyed the seafood feast.

A largish woman giggling like a teenager, sat astride a giant wooden fish. “Now you make sure it’s a good photo” she barked at her husband. A stream of other folks figured it was a real good idea and lined up for their opportunity.

Thursday, August 2, 2007

Back to beautiful sunshine after yesterday’s overcast skies. The day passed pleasantly with some Geocaching, shopping, strolling and a film at the tourist centre.










Tomorrow onward towards Denali National Park……

Note: Muskeg is a soil type (also a peatland or wetland type called a bog) common in arctic and boreal areas.

The Call of the Wild - The Yukon

Saturday, July 21, 2007


It continued to rain all night long, but it tapered off as we drove north through the Cassiar Mountains. The deep valleys were full of wedged in clouds and there was water everywhere – Fernie called the land ‘muskeg’; I’ve heard the term but I must check on the origin of the word. Never have I seen such moisture in July – every crevasse has a waterfall and the torrents attack the road causing washouts and mudslides. And then suddenly, the rain stopped and there was a glimpse of the sun. Our spirits lifted and we hoped it wouldn’t disappear again.

There had been no centre line on any of the northern half of the BC portion of the Cassiar Highway – now suddenly we entered the Yukon to a yellow centre line and just a few miles later onto the Alaska Highway – pure heaven, we were able to drive 100 kph (60mph) again. The road had shoulders, centre lines, smooth pavement, & wide medians at each side. The Cassiar was like a country lane in comparison. A long sweeping snake of a highway was visible for miles ahead – because it was built high up, the vistas were magnificent.


Not only does Mukluk Annie offer free camping but there are picnic tables, fire rings and beautiful views over Lake Teslin; some spots were nestled in the trees and some were wide open (good for solar and satellite TV). FREE is the key word; it’s the carrot to draw folks in to dine on the famous ‘salmon bake’. Huge signs offered: FREE RV wash; FREE dump station and water; FREE boat rides. You don’t have to go for the ‘salmon bake’ – but I guess just about everyone does.

Fernie spotted a couple adjusting an Internet satellite dish beside their trailer and walked over to strike up a conversation – always on the watch for a signal that we could latch on to, but they were unable to get a connection because of the cloud cover apparently. Oh well. I was particularly interested in their system when the woman told me she was Canadian and paid only $69/month for her Internet service. Mind you, the cost of the dish and the initial set-up was about $2,000. Think I’ll stick to stolen wifi.
Note for the future: She bought the hardware from www.techmcw.com and paid Hughes Net for her monthly service.

About 6 o’clock, we strolled over to Annie’s for dinner and the satellite dish couple (later we found out they were Barbara and Bill) arrived at the same time so we asked them to join us for dinner. Another couple from Wisconsin who they’d just met came in and they joined us as well. The Wisconsin couple, a happy laughing duo were just on their way home after spending the last rainy month in Alaska and they shared lots of boondocking hints and horror stories about some of the roads they’d encountered. Several others from the café came over to tell us their stories too and I made mental notes, which I hope to be able to retrieve when needed.


The dinner itself was an interesting affair. A salad bar, baked potatoes, fresh rolls and butter and a cauldron of baked beans were on a buffet and it was an ‘all-you-can-eat’ sort of thing; the salmon was grilled on a huge indoor barbecue and brought to our table. Fabulous! The meal ended with a brownie and tea for dessert – all for $16. When we paid our bill, the cashier handed us our ticket for the FREE boat ride. “Gotta hurry” she said “it leaves in ten minutes – at 8 o’clock sharp”. Of course I can’t resist anything for nothing, so we trotted down to the dock and aboard the pontoon boat. All the other people from the restaurant were on board already – acting as if they were old friends. The hilarity was deafening as the boat pulled away. The 72 mile long Lake Teslin was calm, the sun was peeking between the clouds and birds circled overhead. However, that was about the excitement during the hour-long ride. The cap’n did bring a bag of bread crusts for us to feed the gulls – that entertained us for a bit and we did enjoy the jovial camaraderie.

A huge bonfire had been set-up in the middle of the camping area when we returned and several groups wandered over to join in. We elected instead to watch a movie and go to bed - at 11:30 pm ----- and it still wasn’t dark.

Sunday, July 22, 2007
We awoke to blue sky – small patches of it anyway. It was so cold though and we had the heat on high as we drove to civilization – Whitehorse, which somehow seemed such a huge metropolis after the wilderness. The sun came out, the clouds rolled back and we were able to take off our sweatshirts again – Yowee!

We geocached enroute and then again when we got to Whitehorse. It’s a great way to visit a new place. We stopped for the night at the Walmart, as did about fifty other RV’s. We really needed to stock up on groceries. Next-door was a huge Canadian Tire, which had a wonderful unsecured wifi signal – too bad it had signs warning “No overnight parking”. So I propped my laptop on my knees in the Honda and did my stuff.

Oh, Tammy Faye Bakker died – and she was born the same year as me – that’s uncomfortable. There she is being interviewed by Larry King - not too long ago, weighing 65 pounds – she’s a pathetic skeleton and looks like an embalmed corpse ready for viewing; and she still has on that appalling eye makeup. Her voice is a strained whisper and it is so hard to watch her. Oh well, she has or should I say had ‘her faith’.

Monday, July 23, 2007
5:30am , a car careened through the Walmart parking lot and a raucous and ear piercing “Wake up you FxxxxxS! Good morning Vietna.a.a.a.am” emananated from raw male adolescent throats. They put the bass on full and blasted their music as they shrieked their greeting over and over. After three or four sweeps through the RV area, they got bored and moved on. It can’t be too satisfying when you don’t get a reaction.

An hour later, a shake on my leg “Time to get up” and another shake when I just groaned and rolled over. Then he shook Caesar and got a growl in response. Caesar and I were in agreement “It’s too damned early to get up”. But Fernie was persistent; Kal Tire opened at 7:30am and he wanted to get Maggie’s wheel re-torqued. So we tumbled out but we didn’t have to be happy about it - - - did we?


Fernie worked for Canadian Freightways for 44 years – his entire career. I guess when you’ve given so much of your life to a company, it gets in your blood. He always had a love of the north and an affinity for the northern operations because he started right out of school in Dawson Creek – Mile 0 of the Alaska Highway. So I understood why he wanted to visit the CF Whitehorse terminal. While Maggie was in the tire shop, I drove Fernie to CF only a mile down the road and he made a call. Caesar and I waited in the car and when he came out he said, “They’re still working 16 hour days”. I guess he won’t be going back to work anytime soon.

Tim Horton’s – ten times as busy as Starbucks; what a success story. I’m addicted to their steeped tea and really needed a sugar fix to jolt me awake and a lemon drop donut did its magic. It cleared away all the cobwebs.

The glorious day made it such a pleasure to drive north on the Klondike Highway. Blue skies seem so vast and open whereas the low grey clouds are so claustrophobic. The scenery is majestic as the road follows the mighty Yukon River. An enormous fire started by campers in 1998 eradicated an immense area of forest near Fox Lake. Nine years later the regrowth is well on its way and it has an incongruous beauty. A nature trail meanders through and I marvelled at the fireweed that cast a fuschia-coloured aura. The charcoal timbers were glossy black and shone in the sunshine; red-berried groundcover; yellow flowers; gauzy grasses; it was a marvellous sight.


We stopped at a rest area beneath Conglomerate Mountain for Fernie to catch a snooze. I strolled among the massive boulders consisting of miscellaneous pebbles all stuck together with a natural cement. This mountain and these rocks are remnants of the Jurassic period. A melee (flock?) of chattering magpies with flashes of iridescent turquoise blue on their wings congregated around Maggie. It sounded as if an army of them were walking on our roof with boots on. There’s a noticeable lack of bugs in the Yukon – there are some wasps and bees, but none of those nasty black flies and pesky mosquitoes. I wonder why?

We pulled into Carmacks and browsed around some of the old 19th century cabins and roadhouse. A series of roadhouses were built all along the Klondike Hwy between Whitehorse and Dawson City in gold rush times. Several of them are still relatively intact. Fernie commented that he had been born in a turf-roofed cabin very similar to one that I was interested in – and I did remember seeing photos of his mother and him as a baby outside a comparable cabin. That is so amazing to me having always lived in and around a city. Vegetables grow fast and huge up here in the land of the midnight sun. I marvelled at the gardens and the prolific produce.

The young woman at the info bureau in Carmacks told me that there was no problem parking our RV overnight in most rest areas and pullouts on the highway (unlike those in BC). So we drove along to the Five Finger Rapids Recreation Site and decided it was a perfect spot to stay the night. It was located high above the Yukon River and the Five Fingers but the province had built long stairways down. It was now pretty scorching hot but we had to go down to view the rapids up close. A mile down and 202 steps seemed pretty easy in descent but I kept thinking of the hike back up. It was so worth it though….the view of the huge rocks was splendid – eagles and gulls soared and the river roared. I gritted my teeth and we tackled the ascent. Hot and sweaty when we returned, we craved a tall, cold vodka and tonic.


A cache is planted here, just 25 feet from the front of the motorhome, supposedly by the trash barrel. It’s a micro cache and it’s driving me nuts because I just can’t find it. I’ve been out four times and I’ve stuck my gloved fingers into every orifice possible. (Found out later that this cache is gone – and it drove me so crazy)

There were sporadic visitors to the rest area through the evening but the road is so quiet. I took a photo of Fernie writing notes with no artificial light and the clock reads 11:01pm. Maybe it will never get dark tonight.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007
A monsoon hit in the middle of the night but we were high and dry and we just snuggled deeper into our duvet. We woke to such fresh smelling air and just remnants of clouds. It promised to be another glorious day.

A volcano in the St. Elias Mountains in eastern Alaska is thought to have blown its top in a massive explosion around 700 AD. The white ash covered a large area of the southern Yukon. The white layer is plainly visible where the highway has been excavated at roadside. I had assumed, in error, that the white layer was limestone.

The natives have seemingly had problems with drugs because before entering the native Selkirk settlements of Pelly Crossing and Carmacks, huge signs declared “Drugs are not welcome here”.

Along a 6 km gravel stretch, a construction zone, signs denoted the speed limit as 50kph; three or four pickup trucks passed us in the opposite direction at I’d guess double that speed and wouldn’t you know it the last one kicked up gravel and badly chipped the drivers side windshield.

There was no observable wildlife along the Klondike Highway until just a few miles outside Dawson City. In a river beside the road, a very small baby moose stood knee deep in the water, drinking. Where was the Mom?

Fernie phoned Hank of Versatile Glass in Dawson to see about getting the windshield chip repaired. We’d been told last year that if you get chips repaired within 48 hours, they will be as strong as new and won’t spread. Hank said ‘come on in right now’ so we did. Half an hour later and a payment of $35 cash, no receipt, and it was done. He made a point of walking over to the car where I was waiting to strike up a conversation with me. Hank arrived from Holland 25 years ago and settled in Dawson never going back to his native country. I found it strange that a garrulous guy like himself would bury himself way up here.

We asked Hank about boondocking spots around town and he said the locals do not approve and would probably ask us to move along. It’s a tourist town and they support their local merchants – and that goes for campgrounds – can’t fight it. We settled into Guggieville where they gave us one of two unserviced sites for $15. We don’t need all the nuisance of hookups and the serviced lots are so close together. We were all alone in our own corner of the campground.


Dawson City, on the banks of the Yukon River is a truly authentic gold rush town; many of the old original buildings still survive though mostly boarded up and falling down. The new buildings have been built in the style of the era and so it’s like stepping back in time. They’ve made a tourist mecca out of it and have revived the Palace Theatre and of course the famous Diamond Tooth Gertie’s gambling hall and saloon. The cabins of Jack London and Robert Service are on display in the high end of town and right across the road is the childhood home of Pierre Berton. Jack London’s cabin was reconstructed in Dawson as it was actually 100km away. It was really agreeable strolling the boardwalks around the quaint town and we stopped at Sourdough Joe’s for a halibut dinner after.


Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Caesar’s eye is infected so we checked with the information centre to find a vet in town – but there isn’t one. They offered a long distance phone number but I figured that I’d just talk to the local pharmacist to see what I could buy at the drug store to clear it up – but there is no pharmacist in town. How do people live in places that don’t have the necessary services? I remembered using Polysporin eyedrops to clear up an infected eye I’d had and I’d bought them over the counter – but do you think they had anything like them? No. The best I could do was buy an eyewash, so every morning and evening I cleanse his eye and if it doesn’t clear up, we’ll find a vet when we get to Fairbanks.


A geocache took us up to the tippy-top of ‘The Dome’, the mountain looming over Dawson City. What a view! We passed the old cemetery on the way and ambled around the tumbled over stones – I love old cemeteries. Another geocache took us along a road that skirted many of the old gold mines. The tailings and debris still remain all these years later.


You can’t leave Dawson without an evening at Diamond Tooth Gertie’s, the ‘piece de resistance’ of Dawson City, so we’d heard. A $6 each admittance fee bought us entry to the gambling hall, saloon and theatre – all the same room – and three shows over the course of the evening if you wanted to hang around that long. Fernie checked out the single poker table but they were trying to gather people for a tournament with a $36 buy in. He turned up his nose at that – and anyway, he wanted to keep me company to watch the show.


Gertie’s is a venue that has been cloned many times throughout North America – in Barkerville, Deadwood, Tombstone and so forth. Trite? – certainly. Entertaining? – somewhat. However, the onslaught of overweight (a lot bigger than me) middle Americans from a Fantasy RV Caravan Tour that washed in like a tidal wave, would totally disagree. They tapped their toes, some of the smaller ones got up and swung their hips, they sang-along, clapped along, got up onstage and did the can-can and laughed uproariously at the ‘not so funny’ jokes. “Please don’t let me ever evolve into one of them” I prayed – not that any greater power is out there listening for me.

Thursday, July 26, 2007


The Dempster Highway is a 750 kilometre gravel highway north from Dawson to Inuvik, and there was no way we’d put Maggie through the torture of travelling that road. So we stored her at the campground in Dawson, threw sleeping bags, pillows, food, water and stuff for about three days into the back of the Honda. Oh, and of course, we tossed Caesar in too. He’s an exceptional traveller and quickly made himself comfy in his bed on the back seat.



The Dempster’s reputation of ultimate beauty and the last truly accessible wilderness was what drew us. It’s the only Canadian highway that crosses the Arctic Circle. There were a series of geocaches all the way up to Inuvik, with the first at mile 0. They gave us regular breaks with hikes and opportunites to wonder at the immense beauty of the open country. The scenery was changeable as we progressed. From forest, to plains, to plateaus, to high mountain passes, to tundra. There were no power poles, no signs of civilization beyond the ribbon of unpaved road winding ahead. The road surface was excellent in some places, loose gravel & rock in others, some long stretches of construction but overall it was a very good road – maybe I say that because the Honda rode it so well. Some stretches we were able to do 100 kph and were mostly able to do around 80kph. There were very few people driving the road; some foolish souls actually took their motorhomes and trailers and they slowly negotiated the route taking three days to navigate it. One Roadtrek, which is a small and expensive van-type motorhome, tore out his brake lines and the driver was waiting on the side of the road for help to come. A local had called ahead to Fort McPherson and he said they’d be towing him. Funny thing though, his vehicle was still on the road when we returned. We also saw a large trailer mounted on the back of a big flat deck truck. We were so glad Maggie was safe and sound in Dawson.


About 60 km along, we ascended above the tree line into tundra and the most majestic landscape possible. We were awe-struck at the immense green spiky mountains and vast stretches of open tundra. The wildflowers were vivid especially the predominant fireweed. It was a magic land, reminiscent of that in The Lord of the Rings. I know that was filmed in New Zealand but they could have quite well used the north Yukon. Most of the geocaches we hunted along the Dempster required a bit of a hike through woods or across the tundra. It was strange ground that we walked on with the mosses, and tightly knit groundcovers making a springy surface – it was like walking on a mattress.


Eagle Plains is the first sign of civilization; it’s half way to Inuvik – about 375km. It is today what it was once built for – a service stop with just a gas station, repair shop, motel and restaurant but it’s a welcome and necessary stop even though dusty and bleak. We just gassed up and moved on – destination Inuvik!


The territory changed a few miles after entering the Northwest Territories. It was much lower and wetter – the start of the huge Mackenzie Delta and as a result there were so many flying insects. The grader operators even wore mosquito net hats.


A flagman at a construction zone stopped us and the young native man told us it would be a five minutes or so wait. He batted mindlessly at the swarm of mosquitoes that were circling his head. I wondered if he used a repellent, but later found out by personal experience that no repellent works in this area that’s over-populated with mosquitoes.
“Is that your dog?” I asked seeing an animal scoot behind his truck and into the bushes.
“Naw, that’s a fox I bin feedin’ so he hangs around” he answered in a strong native (Dene) accent. With that, the charcoal grey fox snuck out onto the road again, looked us all over and stalked off down the road.
“You seen any grizzlies?” he continued.
“No, are there any around here?”
“Lots of em – just look beside the road and they’ll be there eatin”. I don’t know if he was fooling me or not because we sure didn’t see any grizzlies. During that minute of conversation, at least a hundred of those voracious mosquitoes had moved into the car and we spent the next hour slapping and crushing as many of their nasty little bodies as we could…….and it was our blood that oozed from their carcasses. I normally don’t like blood sport but when it comes to mosquitoes………I’m like a big game hunter.


There are two ferry crossings a couple of hours south of Inuvik. The first crosses the Peel River, a tributary of the Mackenzie and the second crosses the Mackenzie. The lone visible ferry worker was hosing down the ferry deck as the empty boat glided across the wide river to pick us up – we were the only ones waiting. A wide toothless smile greeted us as we climbed out of our car onboard. He obviously was lonely for conversation.

“Big river, eh? And the Mackenzie – she’s way bigger.”
We nodded our agreement.
“Is this your first time up here? How do you like it? Where are you from?”
I asked him if he’d ever visited Vancouver.
“Naw – I’ve lived here 48 years and never been nowhere but here.”
He was referring to the Fort McPherson area of NWT which is inhabited mostly by the Dene.
“Well, once I bin to Inuvik and it was such a big city and it was so busy it almost drove me crazy”
That really made us smile as the population of Inuvik is only a bit more than 3,000.


After thirteen hours of dusty and bumpy roads, we suddenly found ourselves on pavement again….we had reached Inuvik.
All we wanted was a motel room with a shower and a comfortable bed. It was 10:30pm in bright sunshine of course and just on the outskirts of town, we drove down the lane to the Arctic Chalets – a known dog-friendly inn. But a ‘No vacancy’ sign greeted us – guess we should have reserved. Oh well, we’ll just go into town to one of the larger hotels.
At the first “Sorry, we do have rooms but we don’t take dogs. The Mackenzie Hotel does – but they’ll give you a smoking room.”
At the Mackenzie “Sorry we’re fully booked”. I was almost glad because the thought of a room stinking of smoke turned me right off.
The only other hotel was one that the clerk at the first hotel did not recommend “It’s a pretty wild and tough place”.
“There’s no room at the inn” Fernie said with a long face as he clambered back in the car.

We discussed leaving Caesar in the car to sleep……well, not really discussed because we both agreed we’d never do that. So what was left? Guess we’d sleep in the car – after all I’d brought sleeping bags and pillows.

We knew we’d need snacks to keep us going through the night – after all, we hadn’t even had dinner so we drove down the main street of town looking for an open market. It was almost midnight by now and the dusty and depressing street was filled with little children, three or four years old playing as if it were noon – across from the scuzzy hotel where drunks were falling out the door. Maybe their parents were in there. The midnight sun is an eerie light and casts strange and spooky shadows – I found it a bit depressing.

We pulled into a local park by the river but about twenty or thirty youth had a huge bonfire and were partying there. So, where to go? I suggested a campsite and that’s what we did. At least there were washrooms and hot showers. The hideous part was that thousands of mosquitoes descended on us as we exited the car. So trying to get the car ready for two of us and our little king dog to sleep with all the windows and doors closed was a tricky production. We put our cooler minus food, and other non-necessary items outside to make more room. My first suggestion was for Fernie to recline the passenger front seat and for me to curl up on the back seat while our royal hound curled up in his bed on the driver’s seat. That lasted all of ten minutes. I would have to be two foot shorter to even manage it. We couldn’t figure out how to make the seats go flat but we knew that they were supposed to. So 1:00 am (still light enough to read – it never did get dark) and we have the Honda manual out and we’re performing contortions so as not to let any bugs in. Finally, success! We spread out our sleeping bags and Caesar settled into his princely position – right between our pillows. But it was far from comfortable - there was a big bump sticking in our backs. We lasted until about 5am and got up.

Cranky and tired, we figured coffee, tea and a big old fashioned breakfast would make it all better. The Mackenzie Hotel was the only place in town offering such a thing – and they sure jacked up the prices – omelettes $13?. Anyway, we felt renewed and decided to chase some geocaches around town while seeing the highlights. That was a bit of a fizzle because the mosquitoes never sleep – we ran with jackets over our heads to get back to the car.


The population of Inuvik is a mixture of Dene (pronounced denay), Inuit and whites who are in the minority. At the info centre, a lovely native (Dene, I think) woman told me a bit about their area and just generally chatted about life and travel. Surprisingly, she’d visited Europe several times – I guess I was stereotyping (that’s dangerous) and expected that none of the population were in any way sophisticated. Well, I was wrong.

All the buildings in Inuvik are built above ground on pilings because of the permafrost – it makes for a very strange looking community. We hit the highlights and that took all of an hour. The Igloo Church, the community greenhouse, public buildings and parks – that’s where the mosquitoes attacked us. Gee, what else would we do in Inuvik? We certainly didn’t look forward to a gourmet dinner there and didn’t want to stay in a smoky hotel room – so why not head straight back to Maggie who we missed so much – and that’s what we did, getting back about 11 pm and revelling in her luxury.


With such vast open tundra, we had great expectations for lots of wildlife sightings along the Dempster, especially caribou or at least some moose but all we encountered was a fox, a rabbit, multiple gophers and chipmunks and hundreds of deep-voiced ravens.


In conclusion – are we glad we did it? Damned right! - will we do it again? Probably not, but it will remain clearly in our memories. The Dempster is definitely one of those ‘must do before you die’ things. Its beauty can’t be described well enough or even photographed properly. Only an Imax film or Disney Studios could do it with those 360-degree theatres.