Day 22. Friday 9 September What’s on in Watson Lake?

A long day ahead, and steady, sometimes heavy rain. First stop after 160 km was Teslin, a dot on the highway. We’d been advised by our tour leader to visit a stuffed animal display – despite our scepticism it was very good, with the whole range of animals beautifully stuffed and placed in realistic scenes. Apparently it was a fantasy of an accomplished taxidermist, complemented by a German diorama maker. Anyway, we can now tick off that we’ve seen all the Canadian wild animals, albeit none of them alive.

Happy Hour tonight celebrated one birthday, held over from yesterday, and one 50 years of marriage anniversary.

Watson Lake is known for a few things, one being its Forest of Signs. Started by a US Army engineer working on the Alaska Highway in 1942, it has grown to include more than 75,000 signs from around the word, although most that we saw, before being driven away by more rain, seem to be from the US & Canada.

Day 21. Thursday 8 September.

Well, maybe not so stable. T’s ‘bug bites’ are still not responding to the over the counter drugs, and other possibilities have been suggested by the more medically trained members of the group. So, the Crans were the first out this morning – that is a first – and off to the Emergency Department of the local hospital after a breakfast of American baked beans, which is a last.

The hospital was pretty efficient, even though the admissions clerk was learning on the job. Not much of a queue, but still a wait – it is part of the experience. But the upside is that it has provided free the best, quickest internet service since leaving home, so lots of updating achieved while poxy T spent a few hours with the medical staff.

The diagnosis? Yep…Shingles left side of face/head. Drugs might help if caught in the first 72 hours, but since T is at 96 hrs, so who knows? Scripts in hand (and advice that it’s ok to continue hanging out with old fogeys, but steer clear of under 7s who are not immunised).

Then off to Brett the optometrist to check on that thing on the left eye. He did all sorts of tests on both eyes – finding that the vision in the affected left eye was better than the unaffected right. Anyway, T got a good report from all that and hopefully things will improve in a few days, aided by more drugs – and a hefty contribution to Canada’s health system (thank goodness for travel insurance).

The visit gave us an opportunity to stock up at the Canadian equivalent of Walmart – Superstore – it was where the optometrist was based. Prices very similar to Oz, although fresh produce seemed much cheaper: the most important item, potatoes, were $1.27/kg. BTW, Canada has gone metric, which has been a bit confusing on the road as the metric speeds signs have to be converted into miles/hour to read the speedo. It’s not a hard conversion but does take a little bit of time at our age.

A great coffee at Midnight Sun Café, recommended by optometrist Brett – and it was good, although two extra shot espressos with a bit of hot water on the side (Two hot waters? No, we’ll share one. You sure?) caused some confusion. In the end we got short but strong Americanos – what we were aiming for. Coffee orders continue to confound.

A visit to a First Nation Cultural Centre – an interesting video highlighted both the similarities and the differences to the experience of our own indigenous people. There seemed here to be a better sense of First Nationhood, and for it to be an integrated (in the best sense) and accepted part of Canadian life. That impression is, of course, based on just the limited exposure we’ve had – there are sadder stories in the broader context.

Our tourist guide mentioned a rail trolley ride that took about an hour along the waterfront. That sounded like a good way to finish off the day, so we duly went to sit at the rail stop. No trolley, well after the appointed time. We felt a bit like the travellers waiting at bus stops in certain homes. The booklet said the trolley operated until mid-September, but when we later passed the depot it was obvious that mid-September falls earlier up here.

On our way back to the RV Park we dropped into Miles Canyon. The canyon was named by an Army officer after his commanding officer – perhaps as a career enhancement attempt? We thought the Yukon River was fast in town: here it raced through. Signs advised against jumping in due to the fast current and undertows: we wondered how many local lads (it would only be the lads) went in as a rite of passage? The deep aqua green of the clear water, and the white of the breaking waves (giving the city its name), contrasted with the brown of the river bank cliffs, and the red of the lichens covering the rock.

Poor internet last night and again tonight, so photos will have to wait.(Updated 11 Sep)

Day 20. Wednesday 7 September.

Last night the group visited Diamond Tooth Gertie’s establishment for a meal and a show. Some of the members got into the spirit of things. T still wants to know what D said to the showgirl: he can’t (or won’t) remember.

The title is not a reference to finally using up the boiled eggs (well, D did anyway). It was a long (527 km) trip today over a road that wound both up and down and around and around. It was in mostly pretty good condition – in parts excellent – although T did remark on its patchwork state, much like Australia, compared to the very good roads in Alaska. Again, the colours were magnificent….gold upon gold.

The occasional glimpse of the grand Yukon, rushing to the Bering Sea. Lakes came and went and patches of burnt forest from past bushfires. It seems that fire performs as in OZ, re-generating the ecosystem. Still no wildlife to write home about…a few squirrels, but no elk, nor bears, although a ‘black bear’ had been seen around a trailer park at Pelly Crossing (where we stopped for a caffeine fix).

And an hour stop to take in a walk down steps/trail to view the Five Fingers spot on the Yukon…a place where ingenuity had overcome the narrow river passage between rocky outcrops. Until they dynamited the rocks out of the way, steamers winched themselves through the rapids to deliver essential cargo.

Arrived at Whitehorse (capital of Yukon) for happy hour, celebrating a significant birthday of one of our fellow travellers, and then retreated to the warmth of the van, wondering when the first snow might fall.

Day 19. Tuesday 6 September.

No, the title is not a misprint, more of a homage to a great Australian. Having been told for the last two weeks by locals how lucky we are that the weather is fine, after there had been four weeks of constant rain before we arrived, last night it started to rain on our parade. But the good news is that we accessed good wifi at the local library and were able to update those blogs that had missed out on photos. We’re not sure if you get notified of edits – if not, you can browse past posts at your leisure – or not.

Dawson City has a colourful past as the main metropolis supporting the Klondike Gold Rush. Its raunchy persona didn’t last long – just a couple of years – and as the initial enthusiasm of the gold stampede petered out the ‘city’ gentrified.

Some of the buildings are renovated “originals”, most others are reproductions. And Jack London is everywhere, rather more than perhaps he was during the actual stampede.

The really interesting thing is that buildings now mostly sit on wooden chocks, as the ground is permafrost and can’t be dug through for foundations. There are some older buildings that have literally sunk into the ground because of the unstable ground. The original Presbyterian Church attests to the fact that it’s a good idea not to have a church building!

The situation is made worse when there is a heat source, as this hastens the thawing underneath. The streets are mud and the “footpaths” are timber sidewalks, just like in the movies, for the same reason. Although it’s a tourist gold mining town (the tourists are now the gold mine), it’s nearing the end of the season (it ends Monday next: there are signs saying things like ‘Last showers 12 September’), so was very quiet.

There are some attractions that we wanted to visit. The Museum, open from 10 – 2: we arrived at 2.30. The First Nation Cultural Centre, open until 4: we arrived at 4.15. RiverWest Espresso Bar: closed Tuesday. Alchemy Café: closed Tuesday. The liquor store: closed for Tuesday. The last is almost a tragedy, but we have supplies to get us to Whitehorse, our destination tomorrow.

T needed to add to her drug collection as the left side of her head/face is lumpy & blistering, due to the mysterious bugs that got her at Fairbanks. Apparently these bugs play havoc with the animals! Tonight we’ll eat out at a cabaret saloon….should be sufficiently faithful to the can-can scene of yesteryear.

Day 18. Monday 5 September.

Goodbye, Johny Horton. For you, Ula & Ian:

North to Alaska

You go north, the rush is on

North to Alaska

I go North, the rush is on.

Well, it was on 120 years ago. But now we’re heading south.

After a tour of original Chicken, (mostly based around a 19 year old teacher’s experience), we set off. It was only 170 odd kilometres, but most of it was over dirt roads which were narrow and winding. That said, they were mostly in good condition.

But the scenery! The hills were kind of bald (relatively) but covered in lichen and low scrub of pink, gold, russet…with blue mountains beyond and beyond…….The Top of the World Highway is only open for part of the year…but what a gem. We had CB radio contact as an extra security but given the clear conditions, it was a bit of a toy.

We had been warned of the things we couldn’t take over the border into Canada: apart from alcohol, we were warned that anything uncooked wouldn’t get through, and we would likely have at least a three hour delay. In the event, it was the three Fs – ‘Do you have any fruit, firewood or firearms?’ Having eaten or disposed of all vegetable matter, and having boiled all our eggs at the layby just before the border post, we were honestly able to say ‘No’ to all three and passed through in about 5 minutes, being wished ‘welcome to Canada’.

The road twisted and turned, with dust galore and we came down to the Yukon River, the transport highway for so long.

A little free ferry brought us across into Dawson City, a tourist town on the permafrost, complete with raised timber footpaths, architecture straight out of Western movies and bugs (like sandflies) galore.

T has been nursing lumpy welts on head, face and behind ears for a few days…the manager of the RV park says ‘it takes years to get rid of the histamines from these autumn-loving bugs’….someone in the group has an anti-histamine drug, which T duly takes and thinks about her ‘I’m not allergic to anything back home’ status.

Day 17. Sunday 4 September.

Ptarmigan has a certain ring to it, but Chicken, as a compromise, is certainly easier! The town was to be named Ptarmigan, but the spelling couldn’t be agreed upon, so Chicken it is! The ptarmigan is the state bird and it changes colour completely depending on the season: mostly brown in summer and then in winter it becomes totally white, with feathers along its legs and feet.

A very long day to get here, some of it on dirt roads, but all in pretty good condition. T took the wheel for the first time and drove for one of the 3 long sections. It will be a rush to get into the driver’s seat from now on!

The trans-Alaska oil pipeline is an amazing feat, constructed by private funding in only 2 years with an eventual price tag of $8 billion (estimated cost: $800 million!). It pumps oil from the far north coast down to near Seward (800 miles). Much of it is underground but we were able to see a section above ground, crossing the Tanana River near Delta. Its peak flow was in 1988 at 2 million barrels a day. What was going on in that year?

There was a rough carpark full of 4×4 vehicles and large boat trailers at the bridge/pipeline crossing and T thought: ‘All these fisherpeople? – The current is super fast, how can a boat launch?’ Apparently the motor is running while it’s still on the trailer and great skill is needed. As for the fish??? No, the boats are actually for hunters going upstream for moose, caribou, bear and whatever else.

The two week hunting season is officially on and this is the Labor Day long weekend. That explains everything and the big freezer vans we saw dotted along the highway. Fellow travellers reported coming across guys on 4 wheel buggies with rifles lying across their laps.

The terrain was different today. In the distance, the Alaska Range was blue and white, and the road straight, there were lakes for fishing and the occasional clear pebbly stream, but most waterways were glacial and consequently very fast and silted. Then as the afternoon progressed, we were in hill country, sparse vegetation but in colours of gold and purple and pink: birches and the lichen that feeds the big herds of caribou that pass through in autumn.

And all the way were those big caravans/freezers parked just off the road. This is “subsistence” hunting – a moose can feed a family for a year, we were told. Did we see 1??????

Tonight we’re in Chicken, a gold mining community of 21^st century desperadoes, 100kms from the Canadian border. With no city lights maybe T will actually see the green ribbons of the Aurora Borealis, for which this area is famous. That is, if she can stay awake …midnight- 3a.m is not her preferred time.

Still on wifi lite. Intriguing that the most first world country in the world has the same issues as ordinary folk. It is sort of reassuring (in between D’s frustrations!)

Day 16. Saturday 3 September.

We forgot to mention a near disaster two nights ago – perhaps due to embarrassment. We’d used the oven to cook some snapper fillets (lovely) and after switching it off decided, about an hour later, to put the tea towels in the warm oven to dry and then later to do the same with some underwear. The tea towels were fine – removed and replaced by the unmentionables. A while later, D was reading at the table and remarked at the smell. He checked: the oven was still on and T’s bra was cooking. Some quick response, and only minor burns, retrieved the situation, and T was able to wear the ‘medium rare’ bra today despite a hole where molten nylon had oozed. It will be the next look.

Saturday morning chores, showers etc. – and the van door locked itself with both of us outside, and the keys inside. Fortunately, a side window was unlocked, and we were able to slide it open and remove the insect screen. But where is a grandchild when you need one? Lily? Maya? Elsie? Theo? Nowhere to be found. D went looking and found two willing, if bemused helpers, but their parents were in the shower and were not impressed at being interrupted. Guess they had just soaped up. Anyway, the kids were ordered inside and D slinked away. T had meantime accosted a small Chinese family group with no English. Not to be deterred, T thought, and gestured to them to follow her. They went away promising to come back with a child – we then observed them with a larger group looking and acting a bit agitated. However, eventually they did come over, and the young (slight) mum climbed through the window and we were in! We have now left a spare key with the tour leader.

Washing put out in the sun (strung on rope between trees rather than put into a dryer), so time to visit the University of Alaska Fairbanks Museum. As well as providing a good coffee, it was a well-curated and presented collection that provided a snapshot of the state and its history. It was interspersed with a lot of art – one that especially appealed was the 50/50 collection. The Vogels had collected art from unknown artists over the years, and when later the artists had become well known the collection became valuable. They decided to donate 50 pieces to each of 50 state museums/art galleries. The Vogels weren’t rich: he was a postal worker and she was a librarian. They ‘lived frugally’ in an apartment in Manhattan, and befriended and sponsored many of the artists they collected. D particularly enjoyed a quote from Mrs. Vogel: ‘You don’t have to understand the art’ (or something like that) because that was his reaction to a lot of the pieces. This was a really lovely story.

On to the Large Animal Research Centre to see some Musk Ox (we’ve mentioned qiviut before – great Scrabble word!), to find that our sense of timing was completely astray: we arrived at 1625 and they closed at 1630. We were allowed in to look at one ox’s bum in the distance, plus the shape of another lying down. So I suppose we ticked that box, but were disappointed.

On to Creamers Dairy Field Refuge: this is a bird and forest sanctuary, where migratory birds breed over summer. A lovely boardwalk in the evening (inundated by mosquitoes) amongst birch and spruce and warm sunlight.

Back for Happy Hour, to share with our new friends who have turned out to be very easy and relaxed company. Also, as a general observation, we have found Alaskans to be seriously polite and helpful, both in direct contact and just casual meetings, with time to chat.

Day 15. Friday 2 September 16.

The bed worked! T woke up with a smile after a good night’s sleep. Now we have 2 valleys either side of the lifted centre strip! It’s all in the physics.

A few of our fellow travellers departed around 7.00 AM – while the ice was still on the outdoor furniture and the Crans were just dreaming of that first cup of tea. We got away about 9.00 AM – middle of the pack.

Driving on the highway has something of an imperative to be at the speed limit – 65 mph. This is not really a comfortable speed in a clumsy motorhome on often rough road surfaces. But having a semitrailer with extra trailer on your back does make you concentrate!

Looking for a mid morning coffee, we turned off at a small town – Nenana – population about 300. Dropped into the Post Office to send 5 postcards to five special people, and had a lovely chat with a young man serving behind the counter. He’d come up from Titsburgh (some of you will know the joke) and apparently most of the town was related in some way. He just loved the pace of life. That leads in to an observation: the people we have met in Alaska in all situations have been, without exception, polite and helpful. There is no sense of rush and impatience (we sort of alluded to this in mentioning George and Debra in Anchorage). It really is nice – but we don’t know how many are carrying guns!

We turned off the main highway short of Fairbanks to visit a hamlet called Ester, a few miles short of our destination. Apart from getting us off the main route, it also provided the opportunity to visit a jewelry designer studio– Judie Grumm who talked about wonderful travels she had had in Tasmania.

Arrived Fairbanks, beside the Chena River and what a surprise…Fairbanks is not the desolate landscape that T was expecting. It’s in the growing part of Alaska….huge temperature range, with permafrost beneath, guarantees water to feed crops and trees.

We walked across to the Fred Meyer centre, to catch a bus ‘downtown’. Fred Meyer is a sort of Walmart lookalike. Caught a Blue Line bus, and delighted to discover that over 60 year olds travelled free. Finally, a benefit of (or for) getting older.

Downtown was, on this first exploratory visit, a bit underwhelming. Dropped into a few galleries and stores, which were mostly unimaginative, although one store would have attracted more interest if we hadn’t been travelling with weight and volume restrictions. 1960’s American urban design has no aesthetic appeal. But we did visit a museum describing the winter activities in the Interior….and dog sled races are the highlight. Mushers (the human) ride/run behind the sled team of from 3 to 6 dogs. The races are marathons over vast distances under extreme conditions and the winners become legend. And of the 101 other things to do in Fairbanks in winter (when it’s 40 below), ice fishing, ice skating on the frozen Chena River, snowmobiling, ice hockey and curling are popular. Pity we’re not here to try the list!

Back on the bus, to shop at Fred’s, to get everything we needed for the next few days. Being the only bus passengers, the driver was very chatty. She had fairly recently come to Fairbanks from Arizona, where crime rates are high, jobs are problematic… she had come to rescue her son’s dog, as he’d been deployed O/S with the Air Force. She’d stepped off the plane in February, when it’s -40 and light for only 4 hours a day and LOVED IT. Having sorted the dog, she flew home to Arizona and announced to her husband “ We’re selling and going to Fairbanks”. We’ve since learnt about no income tax, cheapish house prices and free University education for students demonstrating good grades.

Shopped at Fred’s where the fresh fish section has fillet slabs (wild salmon and halibut) as long as an arm. Tonight is halibut (twice the price of wild salmon). Fresh food section is fabulous but since we’re 2 nights away from Canadian border, can’t stock up.

By now knackered, so a quick appearance at the group happy hour and then into the van for risotto.

PS. (Again).  Apparently ‘free’ wifi at these RV Parks means intermittent, low speed, constant dropping out and unreliable access. D is totally frustrated! (6 September update: access at local library is very good)

Day 14. Thursday 1 September.

The mattress saga continues. Last night we set up the dining table bed and T moved out of the honeymoon suite. D was able to nestle, reasonably comfortably, in the valley in the middle of the sagging mattress. T had a most uncomfortable cold night on the too short collapsed table.

After an early start to a day on which we weren’t driving, a simple repast was followed by a walk of about 2 miles to just get away from the immediate tourist precinct. After branching off the walking track that followed the highway (Alaska 3) we meandered through spruce, willow and birch woodland, carpeted with a lush moss and some sort of red berry. A particular highlight was catching a squirrel at work harvesting nuts from the top of a White Spruce – picking them off and throwing them to the ground to be collected later, and totally ignoring us. This the season for them to eat, eat, eat….getting ready for the winter.

As we started our walk we’d noticed a sign saying ‘Tent Sale’. Ah! ….we thought – let’s see if we can get a cheap inflatable mattress to support the middle of our sadly sagging one. We failed to notice that the building was in fact just a large tent – the sale was of (over priced) souvenirs within a big tent. But a kind young man directed us to an outdoors store where we bought a camping mattress, to which we have added our spare sheet and linen. A test run seems to indicate that we have found a lateral solution, applying physics and common sense. Tonight will tell.

Our pre-booked afternoon activity was a medium grade white water rafting trip – about 3 hours worth. We were kitted out in $1000 immersion suits (we were repeatedly told how much they cost and warned not to damage them!) and after the mandatory safety briefings designed to scare you off, we went rafting. It was mostly a fairly leisurely drift, but with occasional splashes as we hit turbulence. Some of these were quite large and soaked the front people from the waist down, and dampened the upper body a bit too. T & D were at the back and barely got damp, but were frozen, as we all were, by a bitter headwind. But it was great fun and the scenery and environment were sublime.

Denali National park is colourful, rugged, mountainous and apparently bereft of wildlife (that means we didn’t see much). Apart from seeing 2 squirrels and a few moose, we’ve just marveled at the vistas and the sun is still shining!

Final thoughts from today…while walking this morning we passed a young guy, standing on the bridge with two female companions, looking down at the rafting inflatables. Stuck in the waistband of his jeans at his back, clearly on display was a pistol in a holster. Later, we commented on this to one of the rafting staff, who said that he always carries his revolver. T asked “why”? The reply was simple: “ It’s my right”. End of conversation.

Although we’re promised free wifi, which is strictly correct, the internet service here is dreadful, so, like yesterday, this post will be bereft of photos.(Tuesday 6 September: Now updated!)

Day 13. Wednesday 31 August.

Whoever it was told us that the trains didn’t run at night lied. At least two very long, very loud and very loaded freight trains went through, about 20 metres from where we were parked. In a sense it didn’t matter, because our bed turned out to have a ‘honeymoon mattress’ which meant that we met in the valley of some very tired foam, and didn’t get much sleep (and nor for the reasons of 44 years ago!). So it was not a restful night.

But we survived. Our first event for the day was a small plane tour of about an hour over Mt Denali, or Mt McKinley, depending on where your loyalties lie. This was spectacular, and although we offer some shots, they do not do it justice. D is not a great fan of flying at any time, let alone a single engine plane built n 1955 (although it was a bit like Captain Cook’s axe, as most parts had been replaced or refurbished!)

Flying through a gap in the mountains with cliffs at eye level or higher on either side did not excite him. Even though the pass is called ‘747 Pass’ because, theoretically we think, a 747 could fit, those rocks seemed awfully close! T on the other hand was in heaven.

Into wheel mode and driving north was magic…the gold of autumn birch, the blue pines, heavy with squirrel food nuts on top, rivers fast and milky, Denali (at 20,000 ft.) the sun and sky…simply wonderful. The Alaskan Veterans Memorial was very impressive.

Moose safely munching beside the road within the park seemed appropriate, since tomorrow is the beginning of the 2-week moose-hunting season (a moose will feed a couple of families for a year). Then a change to tundra country, with trees smaller and marsh land. Autumn has certainly arrived up here.

Now in Denali Park and beanies/jackets are out. Tomorrow we go rafting. It would be good if the rain gods stay away.

Late note: the internet here doesn’t seem happy to upload photos, so we’ll do those later and edit this post.