In some sense, on the 16th of July when we
arrived in Tok, Alaska, it felt as though our trip was half way complete. And,
that could be true in terms of mileage. But more than that, we had completed
most of our loop of Alaska, so it felt like an achievement, like we were on our
way home. We had spent so much time in
the middle of nowhere, in the outback of North America, in the beyond, in BFE, that
we had become used to it. Finding a
single gas station stocked with a few cokes and a few candy bars after
traveling 200 miles on lonely pavement through trees and lakes seemed
normal. A quick thought brought me back
to reality. A mile walk, behind that gas
station, would put me in the deep wilderness of the circumpolar boreal
forest. I imagined that French trapper,
who in say 1800, had not seen another human face in months, maybe years. That thought could quickly run a streak of
fear into the most fearless heart.
Tok.
If it had been a hippie town, like others we experienced along the way, the
pronunciation might have recalled a head shop in Anytown, USA. But though civilized, Tok was is just a
smudge on the continental canvas: a couple of RV parks, a gas station or two,
an outdoor shop the size of a 7-11 but stocked like an REI flagship, a garage,
a restaurant: Fast Eddie’s. All that,
and Tok still felt like the start of the way home. Then I was jolted back to reality when I
reviewed the map. With a drive to Haines
along the way, and a side trip to Stewart/Hyder, Tok lies nearly 2,500 miles
from the US border near Seattle. That is
a long way.
Pulling from the RV parking lot from Tok, we faced a section
of road that was the unknown and came with bad condition reports—the Alaska
Highway though Destruction Bay and Haines Junction. It was reportedly torn up with pot holes,
mud, gravel…all the things you don’t really want while pulling a trailer. This
we had heard on the way north weeks back. We discovered the old report was
already out of date. Canadian road builders are not messing around. They can make repairs in a few short weeks
taking advantage of every bit of daylight in a very short construction
season. Heck, it’s July and we have
already seen some leaves starting to change.
Tundra and boreal forest roads need continual yearly repair. They’re
built on permafrost, a geologic feature that’s the sworn enemy of roads and
permanence. Canadians know this. Alaskans, not so much. Our worst sections of roadway on this trip
were undeniably in the US. No
question. Is it tax base, or commitment? That’s the subject of another blog post, one
you will likely not read from me.
500 miles ESE of Tok we returned to Baby Nugget RV Park
about 15 miles west of Watson Lake, Yukon and spent the night before heading
out on the Cassiar Highway. This stretch
of pavement running north-south through western British Colombia didn’t exist
until 1972. Nearly 500 miles, it
represented our last look at primordial Canada, endless forests to the horizon
in all directions, ubiquitous snow-capped mountain ranges so prevalent, you
grow bored looking at them. And so many lakes you can’t help wondering where
all the water comes from. About 25 feet
wide with no shoulders and few guard rails, we drove in tandem with John and
Pam for nearly three days shrouded in rain and mist. We had negative thoughts about the prospect
of a postage stamp RV park in a little spot called Iskut. We were surprised to
find one of the most beautiful settings and well-kept parks we had yet
seen. Next stop was Stewart, BC on the
point of a fjord with Hyder, AK on the opposing side. These two towns were lost in time. Stewart was in better shape, but Hyder was an
abject demonstration of US poverty. We imagined the postal clerk (yes, there
was a post office) was the highest paid person in town. That until we met a few
US Forest Service pros who had spent their careers in Hyder. A plea to the Governor of Alaska: The place needs help. Thousands of tourists visit annually. It’s
simply an embarrassment. Natural beauty aside, it should be a jewel.
Next stop, the Municipal Park at Smithers, British Columbia.
We knew nothing about it, so made assumptions based on the size of the font on
a tiny map. But WOW! What a place!
Who knew National Geographic Traveler had named it one of the top
ten best-kept-secret ski destinations in North America. A little town with a lot of German influence,
it looks and feels like a ski town. You know when there’s a McDonalds and when
the Safeway even has a Starbucks, you are in the big time. And the RV park? Amazing. Right on the Bear River, it sported,
by far, the largest RV spaces we’ve seen.
Grass, trails, full hook ups, a mowed field to play Frisbee with Bean.
What more could anyone want? Here was a
town whose local government watched a thousand RVs a day pass by and said, “We
can make some revenue from these folks.”
As I write this in a little park outside Prince George, BC
we are back in civilization again. I
could take your blindfold off anywhere and you’d swear you were in “Anytown”
USA. Tomorrow 100-Mile House. Wednesday: Whistler, BC. Friday:
Vancouver, BC. Monday: Vancouver
Island. It’s going fast. It’s coming to
an end. Then I look at the map and
consider the drive from the Olympic Peninsula to Austin, Texas…just 2,500
miles.
Alaska is a fur piece. But we wouldn’t trade the experience
for the world.
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