Denali National Park – July, 2011

Steady rain put a bit of a damper on our move from Fairbanks to a campground just outside Denali National Park.  And what a shame since it might have been a pretty drive in better weather.  Once we got set up, we made a mad dash to the visitors center in the park to check the lay of the land and decide what we wanted to do during our three-day stay.  The short film “Heartbeats of Denali” whetted our appetite for touring the park.  In checking the on-line weather report, Howie had determined that Tuesday would be partly cloudy with a 30% chance of rain and that Wednesday would be mostly sunny with even less chance of rain.  The problem, if it is one, with Denali is that it is so large that it often has its own weather system, that weather can change almost instantly and the weather on one side of the park might not bear any relationship to what’s happening on the other.  That makes planning a bit tricky but eventually you “has ta pay yer money and take yer chances”.

Denali National Park covers some 6,000,000 acres which makes it a tad larger than one or two New England states which shall remain nameless.  Yes, it’s sheer size is impressive but what boggles the mind is that Denali is not the largest national park in Alaska!  It ranks third.  No wonder Alaskans tend to refer to Texas as “that cute little state down south”.

Private vehicles are not permitted past Milepost 15 on the only road into (and out of) the park.  Past that point the road is not paved, is extremely narrow in some spots and has sharp drop-offs with no guard rails.  Not the sort of place where you’d want to encounter an RVs touting “Call 1-800-RV4-RENT”.  We opted to spend our first full day on a bus for the 8 hour round-trip tour to the Eielson Visitors Center,  which is at at Milepost 66.

The green shuttles into Denali do not provide food for the trip so I had to get up early to pack a lunch and assemble all the other gear that was recommended – mosquito repellent, cameras, binoculars, bottled water, snacks and hats plus things I deemed essential for backcountry travel – hand cream, a nail file, Kleenex, reading glasses, sun glasses.  I stopped short of bringing a book to read.  The weather was overcast but at least not raining and began to clear as we boarded our bus at 9:00 a.m.  The buses are operated by Aramark, the NPS concessionaire, and offer little in the way of luxury, but the windows were clean and so taking photos through them was possible.  And our driver, Matt, was jolly and inclined to share his knowledge of the park.  He explained that he needed to keep his eyes on the road so the rest of us were in charge of spotting wildlife and yelling for him to stop.  Naturally we stopped for a lot of bear-shaped bushes and caribou-sized rocks along the way but there were some good calls as well and so, in time, we saw a variety of animals.

The most exciting spotting was of a grizzly foraging several hundred yards from the road.   He was very intent on what he was doing and didn’t even glance our way.  Matt told us there are only about 300 grizzlies in the park and we learned later that they are somewhat smaller than grizzlies elsewhere because their diet doesn’t contain a lot of protein.  Most of the rivers within the park are glacier-fed and contain too much silt to support a viable fish population so the bears have a mostly vegetation diet. 

We made several potty stops along the way.  Most of the rest areas also offer viewpoints of various aspects of the park so in addition to instant relief there were photo ops as well.  Eielson was reached just in time for lunch and we shared the time with a couple traveling from their home in Denver.

The term “the mountain is out” is used with some frequency by the park employees.  That means that McKinley, the mountain known to the Athabascans as Denali , has emerged from it’s cloud cover.  Only about 30% of the visitors to Denali National Park get to see the mountain and so we considered ourselves lucky that we were able to watch the uppermost peaks emerge from the cloud cover, not a postcard view but better than nothing.  For those who missed it, or will not have the opportunity to travel here, the National Park Service has been considerate enough to provide a webcam so you can view it anytime – no guarantees that it will be visible when you try, but you can try again and again...

During the return trip we were afforded the opportunity to see two foxes, one in the act of hunting a ground squirrel and the other in a foot-race with the bus for some distance.  A lot of animals use the road as a convenient way to get from one place to another and don’t seem particularly bothered by bus traffic.

 

We also saw  caribou, known as reindeer when domesticated.  Both males and females grow antlers and must have incredible neck muscles and not be prone to headaches because those antlers are doggone heavy.

 

Although we don’t know these things for sure, we surmised the most significant spotting of the day was of a lynx.  It didn’t linger to have it’s picture taken but faded into the scrub along the road, leaving us with the impression that we’d just seen a ghost. 

When we got back to the Wilderness Access Center we decided, based on weather reports we’d seen back at Eielson, to purchase tickets for exactly the same trip the following day.  There’s a longer trip to Wonder Lake on the menu but it’s almost 20 miles longer and takes 11 hours.  Not having cast iron bottoms, we thought the longer trip wasn’t worth it and that 8 hours was about the limit of our endurance. 

We hurried home, had a quick crockpot meal, and hit the sack to get rested up for a do-over on Wednesday.  Bill and Carolyn, it turned out, had signed on for the same trip whereas Russ and Rochelle (they of the cast iron butts) were on their way to Wonder Lake.

And we had a rare warm sunny day for the trip.  Our driver, Anna, got us on our way, again with the admonition to sing out if we spotted any wildlife.  We hadn’t even left the parking area when we spotted a moose, at least its nether regions disappearing into the woods.  Bill surmised it was the same one he’d seen the day before at the post office.  Further along the road we saw a clutch of ptarmigans, the state bird of Alaska.  They are masters of disguise, being in camo in the summer and stark white in winter.

The mountain was out and we got several good looks of it along the way.  By the time we got to Eielson the clouds had begun to form but the mountain was still very much in view.  It’s not a terribly attractive shape but there’s a brooding presence about it as it hovers over the lesser mountains in the range.  And we have to count ourselves lucky to have seen it emerge from it’s hiding place behind clouds.

The trip back to the park entrance gave us the opportunity for quite a good look at some Dall sheep clinging to the sides of bare mountains, moving from spot to spot with apparent ease.  With the binoculars I was able to watch one large ram bound downhill, creating a mini avalanche as he went.  Anna pointed out that sometimes the sheep make errors in judgment but usually they stay safe on those inaccessible rocky slopes.

On the return portion of our second trip, I spent more time looking for wildflowers rather than wildlife.  As a recovering gardener, it was exciting to see all those wonderful alpine plants living where they are supposed to live, growing from crevices and surviving on the thinnest of soil layers.  Most alpine flora is small, even dwarf, due to a lack of nutrients.  We could see that most dramatically in the spruce trees as we gained elevation heading into the park.  The trees were abundant and tall near the park entrance (about 2000’ above sea level), were smaller and sparser in the transition zone and disappeared altogether by the time we reached the tundra.  The tundra is not barren but is covered with low growing shrubs, mostly from the willow family.

For as much territory as we covered during our visit to the park, it’s hard to comprehend that we barely scratched the surface and that the same will hold true for the majority of visitors.  Only the boldest will ever venture into the more remote sections and even fewer will see the park in the “off season”.

And now for a change of pace, we’re off to Anchorage.

Fairbanks, Alaska

It was a fairly easy drive from Tok to Fairbanks and we made good time, including a brief stop in Delta Junction to check out the farmers market, gift shop and to photograph the marker for the official end of the Alaska Highway.  We drove every single mile of it and have a certificate to prove it!  If additional proof is required, please check out the stone chips on the motorhome and car. 

 

Fairbanks is Alaska’s second largest city, home to approximately 35,ooo hardy souls.  It is situated on the Chena River and is known as the Golden Heart City.  The urban area looks a bit down-at-the-heels but that’s perhaps because harsh weather doesn’t allow for fresh paint to remain fresh very long.  And who wants to spend time painting when there’s only two months of decent weather all year.  The shortness of summer is compensated for by the length of the days, however.

Our first official order of  business was to restock the larder.  Fairbanks has several large grocery stores and the prices, while still higher than the Lower 48, were a vast improvement over Canada.  As much as we love Tillamook ice cream, we weren’t about to spend $8.99 for the 1 1/2 quart size. 

‘Way back in White Sulphur Springs we were advised by some fellow campers to purchase a coupon book called Alaska Tour Saver which offers “two-fers” on a variety of attractions all over the state, including hotel rooms, rail and air tours and admission fees to museums.  We knew the books were only available at Safeway stores and so off we went to purchase one.  All three stores were out of stock so it wasn’t until our third day in town that they became available.  And we glommed one as quickly as we could.

Russ and Rochelle finally caught up with us.  They came rolling in amidst a cloud of dust Monday evening and by Tuesday they were all shined up and ready to see the sights.  They bragged on how much wildlife they’ve seen along the way, including grizzly mamas with cubs.  We’re waiting to see photographic proof of this claim.

 

Our first opportunity to use the coupon book was for admission to the Museum of the North at the University of Alaska campus high on a hill overlooking the city.  Not much of the city was visible; the trees pretty much conceal its existence and heavy clouds obscured the rest.  The museum is a bright white modern structure which houses everything from wooly mammoth bones to contemporary arts and crafts.  The carvings in walrus ivory were especially fascinating; imagine an two-inch-long carving of a salmon in perfect detail.

One of Fairbanks’ biggest attractions is a place called Pioneer Park.  It’s free, for the most part, and seems to be a great favorite with young families.  There are picnic and play areas, miniature golf and plenty of little shops offering souvenirs and food.  We took the train which encircles the park, poked around in the museum (which could use some serious work to pull the collection into some sort of order) and checked out most of the shops.  The shops are housed in log or wooden cabins which were moved to Pioneer Park from various locations in and around Fairbanks.  They’re are all of historical significance and we couldn’t help but notice that the most elegant building was once owned by Fairbank’s premier madam.  After a hard day of panning for gold, the miners surely needed to relax and enjoy themselves in very posh surroundings. 

 

The weather forecast for the entire week hasn’t been encouraging but we decided to bite the bullet and sign on for a cruise on the Chena River aboard the paddle wheeler, Discovery III.  We were lucky – the clouds didn’t move in until we were well into the trip and it never did rain.  The tour was established by the Binkley family in 1950 and third and fourth generation Binkleys are still running the operation.  And very smoothly, I might add.  A grand-daughter of the founders was our pilot for the day.

A 3 1/2 hour cruise along a river could be fairly dull under most circumstances but there was plenty of entertainment provided.  First we got to watch a bush pilot take off and land on the river as the narrator informed us that one out of every 60 Alaskans is a licensed pilot.  Many of the homes along the banks  had float planes tied up next to their boats or parked next to their cars.  (And the Fairbanks International Airport has created a sizeable pond so that pontoon planes can take off and land there.)

Next we came to the home and kennel of the late Iditarod champion, Susan Butcher.   From the deck of the boat we were able to watch a dog team being hitched up to an ATV (a lack of snow prevents using a sled this time of year) and hauling it at a rapid pace around the practice track.  It was later explained by Susan’s daughter that the dogs used are “Alaskan huskies” which are leaner and faster than the AKC-recognized Siberian huskies.  And not nearly as pretty.  Apparently Alaskan huskies are somewhat smarter, too, because they can be taught the verbal commands of “gee” and “haw” and I’m not sure that’s true of Siberians.   Susan’s daughters, in addition to their shtick on behalf of the riverboat cruise, are also involved in dogsled racing.

Before reaching the Tanana River, we pulled up along side a fish camp where a young Native woman showed us how to filet and dry a salmon, not a skill we’ll be using anytime soon but interesting nonetheless.  When we reached the confluence of the Chena and Tanana we could immediately see the difference between the two, the Tanana being glacier-fed and blue-grey in color (more aquamarine on sunny days) whereas the Chena was a medium brown (we can only hope its color comes from tannin and not pollution).  The Tanana is also very shallow in most places and so the captain had to do a U-turn and head back up the Chena.

On the return trip we stopped at the fish camp which is a re-construction created by the Binkleys to add some Native culture to the cruise.  As we got off the boat we were split up into three groups and led off to hear brief lectures on various topics, including how the Athabascan and Eskimo tribes hunt, fish and survive in this inhospitable climate.  Here’s one of the young docents modeling a parka made from muskrat skins.  The hood is wolverine (which is so oily it doesn’t freeze) on the inside and wolf fur on the outside.  These parkas are wearable works of art.

It’s hard to imagine what winter must be like in this neck of the woods.  The narrator aboard ship said that the Chena River will freeze over by Halloween and not thaw again until sometime in April.  During the winter, the river is used as just another highway to get from one place to another and temperatures routinely are in the “minus forty degrees” range. 

 

Just on a whim we decided to visit the Fountainhead Antique Auto Museum, mostly because we had a two-fer coupon and it was an over-cast afternoon.  And we were so happy that we did!  The collection is housed in a plain-brown-wrapper sort of building but, once inside, we found ourselves dazzled with the gleaming autos, costumed mannequins and poster-sized photos of early Alaska.  It was pointed out early on that the collection includes four vehicles which are the only ones of their ilk remaining in the world.  The signage was particularly well done; not only did it contain the specs and original selling price of each vehicle but reported some interesting little tidbit about each auto which made it unique. 

The examples of period clothing were every bit as ship-shape as the cars, many of the nicest examples behind glass.  My favorite was a beaded flapper dress with an Erte-style design, just the right thing to wear for a night on the town in your Dusenburg.

We have no idea who owns this magnificent collection but the signage by each vehicle ended with “adopted by” and a name. Once again we’ve been made to realize that the best attractions are come upon unexpectedly.  We’ve been to several antique auto museums across the country and this has to rank as one of the best. 

Whitehorse, Yukon Territory – Tok, Alaska

Whitehorse is a city of approximately 25,ooo situated on the banks of the Yukon River and not far removed  from its days as a gold rush hub.   Here’s a photo of what passes for a skyscraper in Whitehorse.  We never did figure out the traffic – the town fathers have not wasted a great deal of money on traffic lights; if memory serves, there are two.  We noticed a lot of chipped and cracked windshields and car parts held in place with duct tape, all testimony to the extreme weather, poor road conditions and poor driving habits.

 

It is becoming more and more obvious that, at this time of year at least, the Yukon Territory lacks a sufficient darkness to provide a good night’s sleep. With 19 hours of daylight plus  a hour each of dawn and dusk, there’s only three hours left for darkness – and it’s not all that dark.  One’s Circadian clock is severely over-wound.  Although it seemed a little frivolous at the time of purchase, I’ve got some good use out of the sleep mask I bought a few  years ago to compensate for an over-bright campground.

 

As is our routine, we dropped in at the Visitors Center for some helpful hints on what to see and do in the area.  After collecting a lot of brochures and some very good advice, we headed off to wander the downtown shopping area with its heavy emphasis on First Nations arts and crafts and gold jewelry.

 

 

We stopped by the Government Building for a tour,  Whitehorse being the territorial capital.  A security guard kindly showed us around with a visit to the legislative chambers, pointing out the artwork displays along the way.  The main lobby is dominated by an acrylic stained glass mural depicting Yukon history from the days of the wooly mammoth into an unspecified future.  A lounge area is decorated with five 7x13’ tapestries depicting various aspects of a Yukon woman’s life.  The 3000 volunteer “stitchers” had just eight weeks to complete the project.

 

We made a stop at the Rotary Park for a quick peek at the S.S. Klondike, an old stern wheeler and then went a bit further upstream to visit the Whitehorse Fish Ladder where we heard the incredible story of the life cycle of a chinook salmon.  They are spawned in the freshwater of the Yukon and its tributaries, spend a year maturing and growing and then make the long, long journey up the Yukon Territory, across Alaska and out into the Bering Sea where they live for five or six years until they get the urge to head for home, spawn and die.  The fish ladder is meant to help them past the power plant.  They don’t eat at all during the homeward trip and have little strength left by the time they reach their spawning area.

There’s also a fish hatchery here.  When the youngsters, known as fry, weigh about three grams a computer chip is inserted in their nose and a small fin is clipped off before they are released into the wild.  If and when they are caught, the missing fin will identify them as hatchery-born and the nose chip will provide evidence of their migratory “route”. 

Skies were another mixed bag as we left Whitehorse and began our 280 mile trek to Beaver Creek, also in the Yukon Territory.  From Destruction Bay on to Beaver Creek the road was rough with very slow going for  long distances.  We shook, rattled and rolled across gravel patches, over frost heaves and into potholes and through mini-dust storms thrown up by passing trucks.  Again, we saw very little wildlife.

 

For some distance, the highway follows the shoreline of Kluane Lake.  Somewhere I read it’s pronounced clue-WAH-knee; a mountain range and river share the name as well.  We stopped at a pull-out for lunch and to admire the scenery. 

 

Scenery was in no short supply on this leg of the trip but one of the most memorable sights was of a giant rainbow arched across a big bald mountain with roadside flowers reflecting the rainbow’s colors.  Trying to grab the moment with a camera while bouncing down the road proved to be impossible…or nearly so.

Speaking of wildflowers, the official flower of the Yukon is the fireweed which only appears following a forest fire or in clearings along roadsides.  The pink flowers we were seeing along the highway turned out not to be fireweed but are instead either the edible bear-root (aka Indian potato) or the northern sweet-vetch which is poisonous.  The difference between the two is very subtle but apparently grizzlies have no trouble differentiating between the two.  I believe the pale yellow flowers we’ve been seeing are northern yellow locoweed. 

After passing Burwash Landing, we began to see the icefields of the St. Elias Mountains.  The Milepost, quoting from an interpretive sign, notes that some of the glacier ice is 2200’ thick and has been hanging around for over 29,000 years.  And it was just about here that the road began to get really ugly.  Dealing with frost heaves is an on-going problem and there are experiments being done which essentially air-condition the area beneath the road to keep the underlying permafrost from melting during summer months.  It’s the freezing and thawing that causes the pavement to buckle, causing the heaves and potholes.

We spent the night at Beaver Creek but were so exhausted from the long difficult drive that we just dragged into the campground, checked our email, had left-overs for supper and headed off to dreamland.

 

It was only a short drive on Thursday morning when we reached the Alaska border.  There’s a turn-out just before going through Customs which affords a good view of the 141st Meridian  marking the U.S./Canada border.  It’s a favorite stopping place and so we all took turns photographing each other for our scrapbooks.  Upon pulling back onto the highway the road was blessedly smooth for quite a distance, lulling us into thinking the U.S. was once again ‘way ahead of the pack when it comes to building and maintaining roads.  We soon learned otherwise – frost heaves do not observe border crossings and there were some pretty rough sections all the way to Tok.

Our campground at Tok has a vehicle washing facility (for a fee, of course) and by then we were sorely in need of it.  It seemed we’d get a little spritz of rain every time we got to a dusty patch so the coach, and especially the car, were coated in mud.  The car had little tar-covered stones from fresh pothole patches stuck to the windshield and looked particularly dis-reputable.  As luck would have it, we got sandwiched between rigs from a  caravan which had come down through Chicken.  They had 18 rigs to get washed and they ganged up and set what must be a vehicle-washing record.  Rather than watch us eat up the clock trying to wash the rig by ourselves, they wielded the brushes and hoses and got us cleaned up in a jiffy.  And what nice folks…they sure seemed to be having a grand time.

In the evening there’s a free concert in the campground meeting hall with music provided by a local musician, Dave Stancliff, and his two young associates playing fiddle and banjo.  Dave does a lot of his own compositions and some C/W standards as well, recites some Robert Service poems and tells some tales about life in Alaska.  The program provided a nice relief from the summer re-runs on television.

It didn’t take much time at all to tour Tok on Friday.  Because Tok is just about the first town of any size as you enter Alaska, the visitors center is especially well equipped with brochures from all around the state.  We collected the information we needed for the places we expect to visit and returned to the coach to look them over and to get ready to hit the road for Fairbanks.

Dawson Creek, BC to Whitehorse, Yukon Territory

The short drive from Grande Prairie to Dawson Creek was relatively uneventful.  The weather was a mix of sunny skies and brief periods of rain. 

Dawson Creek is a grim little city at Milepost Zero of the Alaska Highway.  We did a thorough tour of the art gallery and visitors center.  Those of us of a certain age still want to refer to it as the Alcan Road.  Quite the engineering feat in its day, the road was built in just eight months by the U.S. as a means to get provisions to military installations in Alaska at the outset of WWII.  After having driven just 612 of the 1422 official miles of the highway we find it impossible to understand how the task was undertaken at all and just goes to show how much can be accomplished if there is sufficient incentive.  Except for the stretch that crosses the Canadian Rockies, the terrain is not formidable but it isn’t welcoming either.

The actual official Milepost Zero is this marker in the middle of the main drag of Dawson Creek.  Tourists posing here would stand a good chance of being run over by those going about their daily business so a second marker is in place near the roundabout where it is safer for travelers to pose for launch photos.  Here’s our intrepid little band doing just that!

 

In addition to cases of mosquito repellant, the most important provision for a trip on the Alaska Highway is the current issue of The Milepost, an annual publication which documents each and every important inch of the road.  The current issue is pretty much mandatory because highway construction, fuel stop closures and other such significant information is laid out in its pages.  The publication even points out the location of cell towers along the way.   We had been using The Milepost from the time we pulled out of Great Falls but it became a constant companion once we launched ourselves up the Alaska Highway.

We used the three days in Dawson Creek to reprovision, rest and repair…and to get all the laundry done before facing the possibility of several days with no hook-ups.  Our day of departure, July 1, was Canada Day so there was relatively light traffic.  The day was bright and sunny but with a fairly strong wind for much of the trip.  Once again the wildlife was in short supply; we spotted just one very fat and fluffy bear and some white-tailed deer.  Bill later learned that the reason the bear looked to be in such good condition was that spring had come early to the area and so they’ve been able to get plenty to eat.

The Milepost offers a caution nearing the Peace River crossing where the descent varies from 6% to 10% with some fairly sharp curves and then across the metal-grated Peace River Bridge.  Any mention of grades in the 10% range causes me to go into  “unhappy camper” mode but this wasn’t bad at all.  That’s when I first began to  get the feeling that many of the road comments in The Milepost were a bit pessimistic, perhaps written for travelers who’ve never had to get down off the Mogollon Rim in Arizona or driven U.S. 12 east into Helena.  The section I found most distressing was along Muncho Lake where the road is at water level, quite curvy and without benefit of guard rails.  It’s not so bad northbound because we had the southbound lane between us and the watery edge.

Originally we’d planned to boondock in Fort Nelson but in the end checked into a campground on the outskirts.  Carolyn had prepared a lasagna feast and, after a hard day on the road, we sat down to a hearty meal.  We had traveled 282 miles and  a body can work up quite an appetite out here in the wilderness! 

Usually after a long drive the windshield needs to be washed but often that chore can be postponed til the next day.  Not this time.  We had managed to hit a small army of enormous dragonflies.  Their thick bodies had to be three or four inches long with a wingspan about six inches and they make a very big splat when they hit the windshield. 

We were facing the longest segment thus far, 320 miles to Watson Lake, where we’d be seeing some serious up-and-down-and-around curves driving with rough pavement.  The Milepost indicated herds of wildlife would be wandering everywhere.  And they were! The Stone sheep, a smaller more delicate-looking version of the bighorn, were hanging out right on the road and didn’t seem inclined to get out of the way.  We saw several different herds. 

Soon after, we began to see herds of bison, again grazing right along the road.  There were a goodly number of bison babies among them.  And interspersed with sightings of sheep and bison we saw bears out foraging, including one cinnamon-colored youngster.  None of the animals seemed the least bit interested in motor vehicles and few even looked up from their tasks.

Toad River was selected as our fuel-up and rest-a-bit stop.  Just a wide spot in the road with two fuel pumps, a diner and gift shop.  I had hopes of finding a Toad River tee shirt but balked at the idea of paying $20 for it.  The fuel was spendy enough!!  (Spendy is the northwest equivalent of pricey.)  The most interesting aspect of the Toad River restaurant is its ceiling; instead of acoustical tiles, it has a collection of caps, mostly the billed, baseball style with logos.

Long days and short nights are already evident so we were able to get settled at our campground in Watson Lake, have our dinner and still get to the Sign Post Forest with plenty of daylight to spare.  The Sign Forest is one of the most famous sights along the Alaska Highway and it turned out to be ‘way more than we expected.  Started in the early ‘40s by a lonesome soldier working on the Alcan Road, it has been added to over the years by travelers from around the world.  Apparently an “inventory” was done in 2004 and the tally came to nearly 77,000 signs and the number increases daily, at least during the summer months.  The signs range from hand-lettered messages on pizza tins to carved and painted wooden plaques.  Obviously there are a lot of cities and towns world-wide that are missing their signage!

The drive to Whitehorse was “only” 274 miles.  We crossed the Continental Divide on this segment but it was less mountainous and curvy than the previous day’s drive and there were almost no areas of loose gravel and/or construction.  There was also no wildlife and we saw nary a critter on the entire trip.  We stopped at the Yukon Motel in Teslin for lunch and to refuel and took a quick stroll through their “wildlife museum” and gift shop.  They had some lovely souvenirs for sale, all pretty expensive.  The dioramas of Yukon wildlife were excellent, really handsome specimens, including this pair of Arctic wolves.  Are these not some of the most beautiful creatures you’ve ever seen?

For quite a long distance, we saw rock messages where folks had spelled out words or made patterns.  They were difficult to read for the most part but once again it became evident, as with the hats in Toad River and the Sign Post Forest in Watson Lake, mankind wants to leave its mark on the wilderness.

The Milepost again proved its worth when we spotted a white cairn on the left side of the road, decked out with plastic flowers.  Ordinarily we’d have gone for miles wondering what that was all about but The Milepost with prompt in telling us that it was a memorial to an Army Engineer who’d died in the area in 1942.

For quite a distance the highway parallels the shoreline of Teslin Lake.  The Milepost failed us – at least we think it did – in not reporting the length and width of the lake.  Google, however, came to the rescue and we discovered the lake is 75 miles long and a little over 3 miles wide.

Along the way we saw a fair number of solo bicyclists (and even more motorcyclists).  Being older now and timid compared with our youth, we can’t imagine anyone wanting to cycle through such a desolate area.  In bear country, we considered them to be Meals on Wheels.  And the motorcyclists are fast food Meals on Wheels.  Despite the risks, they are having an experience which will remain with them the rest of their days.  Assuming they have more days.

Whitehorse will be “home” for three days and it will be good to be able to kick back, get some chores done and relax a bit before heading off on the next leg of the journey.