Yukon – The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

August 6 Day 32 Robinson Roadhouse to Irons Creek

We spent a surprisingly quiet night at the rest area at Robinson Roadhouse and were once again on the road early in the morning with hot tea, deciding that breakfast wasn’t needed. The sun was still low in the sky, which most of the time is great, except as we passed the beautiful Emerald (also called Rainbow) Lake, the colors weren’t yet illuminated with the sun still behind the high mountains to the east. The road to Carcross is beautiful, winding through the mountains with vistas of White Pass. The history of this road is woven tightly into the story of the Klondike gold rush, as it was at Bennet lake west of Carcross that the minors boarded the lake steamers.

We walked around the burned hull of the Tutshi sternwheeler, reading the sad story of her attempted restoration, only to tragically burn in 1990 before the fire suppression systems were installed. Perusing Mo’s photos of her 1974 journey, we found a shot of the boat before the restoration began. I also found a photo of the Caribou Hotel which was still in operation back then. Today, it appeared empty although it looked as though it was in the process of restoration.

The White Pass-Yukon Railroad Depot provided an important route from Skagway to Whitehorse, where it no longer goes, now ending here at Carcross. It was just after 8 as we pulled into town and all was quiet.

Continuing east along the Tagish Road past the post where the miners were required to check in and have their full ton of provisions documented by the RCMP before they were allowed to continue north to the gold fields. The circle route adds an extra 27 miles back to the Alaska Highway, but it is beautiful and well worth the trip.

We were back in the Yukon, on the open road with wide vistas spreading out before us on a perfectly clear morning. There a so many museums at nearly every town, it is hard to see them all. Reading about George Johnston’s Museum at Teslin, however, was intriguing, and we chose to stop. I’m so glad we did. George Johnston was Tglingit Indian with a story as wild and romantic as the Yukon itself. As a young man, he was intrigued with automobiles and went to Whitehorse to buy the first automobile brought to Teslin. Or course, there were no roads in Teslin, so he used the 70 mile long Teslin Lake in the winter and built his own 3 mile road in the summer.

I had read all this in the Milepost, but I must say that the museum brought George to life in a way I would have never understood without our morning stop. In addition to his story of the car, he was a self taught photographer and for 40 years documented the life of his people in Teslin. As we left, a sign board told the story of the lost language, and how now at last it is being restored. I would say this is a “don’t miss it” museum, aka the Milepost. Of course, it says that about lots of places that aren’t necessarily so great.

Not far beyond Teslin Lake we were surprised to see a young black bear grazing for berries on the slope above the road. He wasn’t the least bit concerned that we stopped for photos, and again, I was glad for a telephoto lens to catch his sweet face up close. If you look at the rest of the photos, you might see his crooked little nose. I swear it is a bit crooked, or plastered on a bit sideways.

Mid afternoon found us at Watson Lake and the famous Signpost Forest. When Mo stopped here in 74 there were only a few posts along the highway and she took a couple of photos. The forest now is nothing if not overwhelming.

We walked among all the signs from all over the world, amazed at some folks creations and wondering just how many of those city signs were stolen from their local burgs. We tried to find some of the early signs but could make no sense of it. Back into the visitor center to find out the 150 of the original posts had rotted and were removed. All the signs on those posts had been nailed up hither and yon wherever there was a space. Mo was glad she didn’t have a sign to find. We added Mo’s sign that we brought from home to the melee and moved on down the road.

Watson Lake is the last major community in the Yukon and as we entered British Columbia the road conditions started going downhill. We got caught in a long line of cars in very dusty gravel for about ten miles. It was time to find a boondock site, and sure enough there was a wide place along a creek just beckoning us to spend the night. We slipped out of the long line of cars and big trucks to the long gravel road and realized that in order to get level we would have to unhook.

It was worth it, and eventually all the pilot cars stopped coming, the grader finally quit after 6pm, and we had a beautiful quiet evening reading and enjoying our free spot along Irons Creek. I did a little bit of reading and found out that at one time the bridge over Irons Creek was a 25 foot diameter culvert, one of the largest in Canada, and it had failed a few years ago requiring that a new bridge be constructed. The creek didn’t look at all threatening at this time of year, but we were far enough above it that it wasn’t a worry anyway.

Miles traveled today: about 317 from point 15 to point 18 on the map at left

Road conditions: good all the way through the Yukon, ten miles of dusty gravel into BC

The rest of the photos for this day are linked here.

August 5 Day 31 Haines to Robinson Road House

When leaving Haines, there are three choices. You can travel back to Haines Junction and the Alaska Highway by road, you can take the ferry to Skagway or points south all the way to Bellingham, or you can fly a tiny plane to Whitehorse. At first I thought we might take the ferry to Skagway and then drive north to Carcross. It seems a popular option, saving more than 200 miles of driving, and the cost between driving and the ferry is comparable.

Ferry fees are based on the length of your rig, both of them, including whatever is hanging off the back. In addition you pay a separate fare for each person and an additional fare for each kayak. It is 288 miles to Carcross from Haines on the road, and 65 miles to Carcross from Skagway on the ferry, just a short hour crossing from Haines. We chose to drive.

A couple of things figured into our decision, not the least of which was the beauty of the Haines Highway, the magnificent wildness of a road that is bordered on both sides by grizzly country, without many other vehicles. I may not be back to Alaska for a long time, I wanted to see the Haines Highway again. A second reason is probably a bit silly. Since we chose to drive the Klondike Loop, there is a section of the Alaska Highway that we missed between Tok and Whitehorse. By backtracking to Haines Junction and getting back on the highway there we will travel east to Whitehorse and once we reach Dawson Creek can claim that we drove every single mile of the Alcan.

It was cloudy when we left this morning, with the huge peaks behind Haines only showing their sparkling glaciers sporadically and then the skies softened into a more leaden gray as we crossed Haines Summit once again. I was glad for our day of beautiful skies on our first passing, but the grizzly country surrounding us still looked wild and magical. When we were stopped for the construction zone, I asked about the grizzly, and they smiled and said, No, he hadn’t been back, but another griz was seen this morning back at Goat Creek, where we had already passed.

Continuing north, we still had the road to ourselves, but the scenery didn’t seem quite as dramatic as the first time. It was closer to mid day, with flat light, but I also think that the drama unfolds differently depending on the direction of travel. We reached Haines Junction and turned again on the Alaska Highway headed east toward Whitehorse.

Not far from the Junction, we came to a delightful rest stop along the Aishihik River and the Tutchone community of Canyon Creek. We took some time to walk up to the bluff and the cemetery, with its small scale houses covering the graves of the people buried there.

The bluff is formed in sand from the end moraine marking the terminus of a huge glacial lake that once filled this part of the Yukon. Beyond Canyon Creek, the landscape broadened and the roadside was dry nearly white silts from the floor of the Pleistocene lake. The soils were dry, the grasses were brown, and the aspen was gray and dry from the ravages of the aspen leaf miner. Fire danger was listed as “high”, and I could definitely see why. Mo was driving and I found myself dropping off into a snooze with the boredom of this Yukon landscape.

We stopped in Whitehorse for fuel, remembering our rainy arrival almost a month ago, and continued south to the South Klondike Road and the side trip to Carcross. We hoped to boondock for a few nights, and sure enough the big gravel pullouts looked inviting. We chose a rest area, where in the Yukon you can park if you choose, and settled in for the evening behind a wall of protective trees near the old Robinson Roadhouse, now abandoned and just a shell of its former glory. After a walk exploring the area, we settled in to a quesadilla supper and some reading and writing time before we slept.

I heard on the news recently that there was a possibility of northern lights in this part of the country due to a huge solar flare, and had high hopes when I went to bed. The skies were clear and bright, but when I woke at 11 and then again at 1 to check, the clouds had returned. No northern lights for us this time around, I guess. It’s really a bit early, with the lights starting up in the fall. The night temperature dipped to 38F and our heater came on quite a bit during the night. Good to have the generator to keep things charged and ready for us to stay nice and cozy. I don’t think solar panels would be much good in this world with all the cloudy weather.

Tomorrow we will stop to explore Carcross a bit before continuing east through the Yukon toward Watson Lake on a part of the highway that we passed on our way west. Once beyond Watson Lake it will all be new to me as we travel east toward mile zero at Dawson Creek.

Miles driven today: 268

Road condition: 2 lane paved highway with some areas of intermittent frost heave, but basically 55-60 mph road.

The rest of the photos for this day are linked here

August 3 Day 29 Kluane to Haines

We woke to brilliant sunlight streaming in the east facing windows around 5:30 and with hot tea in the cupholders were on the road by 6. At last the Alaska Highway filled all my highest dreams of what this road could be. We were all alone and the Yukon pavement was smooth and silent. When I lived in a beautiful part of the MotherLode in California, near Sonora, I dreamed of a road to myself. I couldn’t often see the beauty because there were usually 7 cars behind me wanting to go faster and 7 cars in front of me trying slow me down. Our drive today filled my yearning for the open road, a highway uncluttered with vehicles, wild and open and all my own.

Take a minute to watch the show and get a taste of what it felt like

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We took our time and pulled off often to catch the spectacular views of the St Elias Mountains. A stop at the Kluane National Park of Canada gave us just a taste of the wild expanse of ice that makes up more than half of this magnificent land. Adjacent to and combined with the Wrangell-St Elias, these two parks make up the largest contiguous extent of protected wilderness in the world, and are recognized by the United Nations as a World Heritage Site of great significance. Ice fever called, and I dreamed of returning and taking the time to fly over that vast icefield with glaciers radiating down on all sides.

The road was perfect, except for a short stretch after we crossed into British Columbia, and when we saw the construction signs we pulled to a stop, with no idea what waited for us there.

After a few moments, we noticed the flagger scanning the slopes to our east and of course, we looked up too. High on the hill above us, oblivious to the world below, a grizzly grazed intently for berries. The road folks exclaimed in awe that he was really a “big one”. It was thrilling to watch him move, so quickly and full of grace and power, even through the binoculars. The 300 lens could just barely capture him, but there he is, a real wild grizzly, no collar, no bands, unexpected, in the middle of nowhere. Without the construction slowdown we would have missed him.

We crossed Haines Pass, with more wonderful interpretive signs about the gold rush and an especially well done description of the habitat variations from tundra to hemlock forest as we descended into the valley. The rapid change was dramatic, and beautiful, as we suddenly were surrounded by the thick, dark forest and the broad glacially fed Chilkat River, home to more than 3,500 eagles in the fall at the Eagle Reserve.

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Once we arrived in Haines, we took advantage of the sunny afternoon to walk around Fort Seward and explore the shops and galleries on the Fort grounds. Fort Seward was built in 1902 and operated until 1947. Eventually it was bought by a group of war veterans and the grounds and buildings are privately owned with hotels, restaurants and galleries. I especially enjoyed walking through the Native Arts Center and seeing the huge mess of artistic creativity in the main carving room.

But the main reason we took the extra time to come to Haines was for the bears, and it was time to go find them. There is a large population of both black and brown bear in Haines, but it is especially famous for the bear viewing along the Chilkoot River at Chilkoot State Park just 9 miles north of town.

We unexpectedly drove in Haines on a “cruise ship Wednesday” the only day that ships dock here, so the bear viewing site was full of people in cars and buses, with tour groups and people walking along the road. It was a zoo, just without fences. Even so, it was wonderful to see these big brown bears up close and personal.

The only ‘fence’ was the park officer walking around trying to corral all the folks who would think of getting to close to a momma grizzly and her babies. She seemed somewhat frustrated with some folks especially, and said to me, “Fine, let them get mauled, they deserve it”. She was saddened especially by the fact that the two cubs will no doubt end up being killed from their exposure to too many people. They can’t relocate these big brown bears because they stubbornly return to their homelands in record time.

If you look closely at the lower right photo in the collage, you will see a salmon fisherman of the human variety. These fishermen compete with the bears for the spawning salmon, but if a bear comes too close they will run away, leaving behind their catch. This results in bears discovering that humans are a great source of food. The saying goes, “A fed bear is a dead bear”. Sad

Still, it was thrilling to watch Mama and her little ones, a male and a female just a year and a half old. Mama was a great swimmer, and her babies were carefully staying in the shallow water as they watched her fish. The boy cub was much braver than the light boned delicate little girl but he still didn’t go all the way out to fight the strong current with Mama. Even with her collar and bands, it was wonderful seeing this great wild 7 year old bear fishing in her world, traveling the same routes her mother did and fishing the same waters while she taught her babies. There is another mom with 3 cubs in the area and 2 other males but we didn’t see them on this trip.

After our bear time, we went back to town to our home on the water at Oceanside RV Park. It’s not fancy, but it has full hookups, TV and WiFi and with our planned two day stay, it’s nice to have amenities. Our freezer stores are getting a bit low, so we went to the Lighthouse Bar just down the road for great burgers while we watched the light change over the inlet. Somehow coming to Haines was a full circle return from our cruise last summer when we watched Haines in the distance as we passed by on the Princess. It was fun to watch the cruise ships pass on the Lynn Canal as we settled into the evening.

Miles travel today: 214

Road condition: excellent 2 lane paved highway with a short stretch of gravel construction in BC

The rest of the photos for this day are linked here

A LOT of photos of the bears are linked here

Day 12 July 17 The Top of the World

One of the reasons we thought to leave Dawson today was to avoid the 20 rig caravan scheduled to cross the Yukon on the ferry tomorrow morning. It is a good idea to check with the Information Center about possible caravans leaving on the ferry so you can adjust accordingly. I couldn’t quite imagine driving this wild place in a line of RV’s. At noon, when we drove down to the ferry, there was already a large line of cars, RV’s, and folks on foot crossing the river. The only way west from Dawson is to cross the Yukon River on the last existing ferry along this route, both the Perry Ferry and the Stewart Ferry are now replaced by bridges. The ferry is free, part of the Yukon highway system. Sometimes you are lucky and there is no wait, sometimes you are a second kind of lucky and there is. Our second kind of lucky turned out to be just an hour and a half of time to watch the ferry fight the incredibly strong current of the river loaded up with big Holland America busses and to visit with local folks here for the festival.

We initially planned to cross with the Tracker hooked up, but after seeing the big rigs and busses bumping on the exit across the river, we thought better of that plan and unhooked. Mo had to then get the Tracker back to the end of the line of passenger cars and we hoped we would still cross at the same time, but it didn’t look good. I actually enjoyed the wait, watching and visiting, eating another piece of the giant cinnamon bun from Beaumont Lodge, and just enjoying the gorgeous sunlight and the view.

When I finally loaded, first rig on the ferry, I was amazed to see Mo get waved on as the last rig because she was short enough to fill in the space. Perfect. The river was especially high and muddy, with a powerful current now and then laced with huge logs and debris. Must be a talented person who runs that boat! In no time, we were off the ferry and hooked up with the Protect-A-Tow in place ready to tackle the gravel road to Tok and the Alaska Highway.

I had read about this road, seen photos from other blogs, heard varying reviews from writers that didn’t give me a clue of what was actually in store for us. This, finally, was the wild north that I had come to see. This road, rough as it is, was magnificent, utterly breathtaking, awe-inspiring magic. I began to feel the magic within the first few miles, as we climbed the long grade to the ridgetop run that most of the road follows along the spine of the mountains.

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The wild Yukon spread out before me to the east and north, and the deep valleys of the Yukon River and its tributaries to the south.

I wouldn’t have missed this part of our trip for anything. Every single penny of the trip is worth the wild and beautiful landscape we traveled today, on a road built only a few decades ago. Long ago, in Idaho, I worked in a wild area of the St Joe National Forest, and traveled a ridge run similar to this one for many miles into the back country. I loved that road, the 201, more than any other in my lifetime. This was the 201 on steroids, winding along the ridges, across open grassy slopes above timberline, with views into hundreds of miles of roadless wilderness only known to First Nations and old trappers. Hundreds of miles without a telephone pole, or a power transmission line, or a cell tower anywhere, or road the only ribbon of civilization crawling through to the distance. Not a clear cut in sight. Nothing but the wild Yukon into the wild Alaska.

I suppose the only mild disappointment was that we still saw no animals at all on the route. Oops, we did see one more squirrel run across the road, but that was it. Not a sheep or a bear or a caribou. So many warnings, both on signs and in the Milepost, indicated that at least here, we would see animals. Again, it was not to be.

After two very short hours, we crossed into Alaska. This northernmost border crossing was simple and quiet, with no one in front of us, even though we had seen a few rigs along the route. We were asked no questions except how long we had been out of the United States and how many pets we had. After the officer checked our passports and pet papers we were on our way. The rain that we watched building in the west finally overtook us at the border of Alaska and we drove on a bit, searching for a wide place along the road. As promised, the road turned to wet, rough dirty gravel, and Mo was glad to find a nice long turnout where we parked for the night.

Since the border behind us closed at 8, there was only a bit of traffic coming along behind us before everything was silent for the rest of the night. I say “night” very loosely. We gained an hour, so were worn out, fed and in bed by something silly like 6:30 with our books. At midnight, when I woke, it was a bright twilight evening, with the almost full moon rising over the ridge behind us. There is a small stream of water running down the mountain behind the rig, and I had hoped it might bring in some critters. It’s now 3:30 am and I have been writing for some time and have yet to see any critters in the morning light. It never got dark at all.

I turned the generator on to run a bit of heat in the 40*F outside temperatures and to keep the inverter on so I could charge up the computer. I feel like a newborn with my days and nights mixed up, just wondering if in this bright morning light I should now try to get some sleep. Mo keeps wanting to drive since she hates navigating, so at least she is back there snoozing away while I type and manage photos. Today we continue toward Chicken and Tok and once again will be on the Alaska Highway.

The Klondike/Top of the World loop certainly has it great moments and its downside. Still, I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. Here is a slide show of the journey.

Miles traveled today: about 125 between site15 at Dawson and 16 at our boondock site

Road condition: hard surface fine gravel with rough spots, steep grades up and down to the Alaska border. From the border to our boondock site, gravel that seems more like dirt, rutted and rough, but so far we haven’t had any mishaps inside or outside the MoHo and Tracker. Kayaks still on tight and all windows still intact.

If you want to see the rest of the photos, they are linked here

Day 12 July 17 Dawson City

Dawson City. As I sit here a day later trying to express what we felt about Dawson, I am at a loss for words. Disneyesque? Tourist Town? Another destination for cruise ships? Dawson Berry Farm? (aka Knotts Berry Farm)? For all those lovers of Dawson, I apologize. It wasn’t quite what we thought it might be. Of course, it may have been because we arrived during the annual July Dawson Music Festival that the town was so crowded, or because of the several huge Holland America busses there as well.

Dawson from Mo’s 1974 photos

I think Mo was a bit more surprised than I was, because she saw Dawson more than 30 years ago, when it was truly an old historic town full of crazy old buildings and history. This time, for her the whole place was just too slick and shiny, too much a destination “thing”. Today, however, we were blessed with gorgeous weather to walk the town, and watch the myriad types of people doing the same.

There were many young people, some we spoke to from Yellowknife and Fairbanks, alternative type kids with dreds and beards, backpacking and hitch hiking out of town after the music, friendly and polite and fun to talk to. While sitting on a bench with Abby, waiting for me to check out a gallery, Mo visited with a woman from the Holland America cruise ship bus, touring Alaska by boat, bus, and train, and having a great time. She was from Henderson, Kentucky, and wanted the chance to see Dawson in the snow, for just two days or so. We had fun talking about the beautiful hardwood forests of Henderson and the Audubon Park that we visited last fall.

Today, after a beautiful quiet night ten miles east of town at our campground,Klondike River CG Yukon Parks, we decided that in order to avoid the caravan of 20 motorhomes crossing the Yukon tomorrow morning, we would forfeit our prepaid camp fees for tonight and leave for the Top of the World this afternoon. With that decision made, we both felt better about our visit to Dawson. There really wasn’t enough here for us to see to warrant a two day visit as originally planned.

Yes, there is a lot to see. There is the ride on the Yukon on the sternwheeler, a great thing to do if you have a spare 120 Canadian for two people. There are the dancing girls at Gertie’s, and the gambling, neither of which particularly interested us this time around. We skipped the Follies in Whitehorse, thinking that we would enjoy the funkier version in Dawson. Seems as though they no longer have a Follies show in Dawson, and Gertie’s Dancing Girls are the replacement. Three shows a night, ten bucks a show, lasts half an hour, great costumes according to the visitor center people. Last night we had no desire to drive back to town for contrived night life at 8:30 to jostle for a first come first serve show.

We filled the MoHo at the only gas station open for 5.49 per US gallon and backtracked to the road leading to Dredge No.4, a Canada Historic Site down the road to the gold discovery site that started the whole thing. We saw the first wildlife since Arctic ground squirrels when a small fox crossed the road in front of us with breakfast dangling from his mouth.

Placer mining is familiar to me. I did soil survey in Murray, Idaho, another historic placer mining district, with valleys filled in with placer tailings. In Columbia, California, heart of the gold country, I mapped soils developed on 150 year old piles of the chemical mix left over from hydraulic mining. I wear gold, I use metal as we all do, mining is a necessary thing, but what is left from the mining industry is daunting to me. The landscape here at Dawson looked incredibly familiar to me, even though I had never been here. We saw some signs in town saying, “Placer Mining Supports This Store and This Store Supports Placer Mining”. Of course, mining is the heart and soul of Dawson and of the Yukon. Important stuff. Necessary. The sign made me think that there are probably some folks out there taking issue with the mining. As always, it is challenging to find some kind of balance.

Walking around town for a couple of hours taking photos was perfect for us. There was a beautiful city garden full of huge delphiniums along the river, and flowers everywhere throughout town. Some of the buildings were painted in Technicolor and others were crafted of old tin and weathered boards. The visitor center was beautiful, a replica of the old HBC building that stood there at one time. We certainly didn’t see everything or do everything. There are many blogs out there filled with great stories of fun in Dawson City where I can go read all about what I didn’t do some winter evening when I am back reviewing my own take on visiting Dawson.

I loved the Yukon River. I loved the magical line between muddy Yukon water and clear green water from the Klondike as the rivers merged along the waterfront. I loved the power of the Yukon River, and looking at it, I loved imagining it’s winding course to the Bering Sea in the north. I loved reading about how it once flowed south until the continental glaciers turned it northward. I loved the flowers and the brilliant sunshine that again came out for us in Dawson. I loved the crazy mix of people.

Would I ever need to see Dawson again? Probably not. I bought a small copy of Jack London’s Call of the Wild. His house is here is Dawson, among other authors of north country lore. Hadn’t read that book since high school, and read it while I watched the moon come up in the midnight twilight of the Yukon when I couldn’t sleep. The book was written in 1903 and the names of places throughout the book rang true to me, places we had driven yesterday on the Klondike, Perry Crossing, the Stewart River, others that meant nothing to me as I read the book so many years ago, now ringing with a different sort of familiarity.

Dawson City. Mythical town of the Klondike Gold Rush, all dressed up for the 21st century.

Many photos from this day are linked here.

Miles traveled this morning 0

Coming Next: Everything changes at the Top of the World