z_Yukon bound

Day 10 - Leaving Whitehorse

Sunday, 6 p.m.

Flying home now, looking out the window in the last of the light as the road unwinds below through the mountains.

It took me nine days to get here – it could have been seven if I hadn’t gone up to Dawson – and now I’ll be home in eight hours. Planes are great for getting somewhere you need to be, but they can never beat a road for traveling. Roads give perspective and meaning to a place that can never be understood from up this high.

There’s a town below, tiny lights in the darkness against the blackness of a lake. There’s a road that snakes to it though the peaks and I can see a light moving along the road toward the town. A couple of days ago that might have been me. I don’t know what’s in that town but it’ll be something new and there’s always the possibility of adventure. I wish I was down there in that car.

But I'm not. I'm on my way back to Toronto. And on Saturday, Feb. 4, there'll be a story in Wheels about Driving the Yukon, as well as some other stories in other sections in the near future.

Have a good week. As for me, I'll be looking at my Atlas of Canada, plotting out the route to Newfoundland through Labrador...

Day 9 - Whitehorse, Yukon

Saturday, 5.30 p.m.

6,323 km

The end of the road at last. People in Dawson think nothing of driving this 600 km south to the territory's capital, but at this time of year the road is still slippery, snow-covered and remote. Passing trucks spit up blinding plumes of powdery snow and there are stretches of more than 100 km without a single building.

The mountains were clear to the north and I took a short detour up the Dempster Highway just to say that I've driven it. It's more than 700 km straight north to Inuvik and, at this time of year, the winter road to Tuktoyaktuk. But I had to get here to Whitehorse so came due south and arrived here before the sun set.

It'll be a sad moment, handing over the keys to the guy from Toyota. This RAV has brought me a long way without complaint or hesitation. It hasn't developed a character but it has proven comfortable, capable and reliable, and what else can you ask of a vehicle?

One more entry tomorrow and this blog will be complete. Unless I can persuade the Star to let me now drive to Baja, of course.

Day 9 - Dawson City

Saturday, 8.30 a.m.

Yuck! Is that really a toe?

Quite a night last night in the two bars open in Dawson at this time of year. I drank the Sourtoe - a glass of Yukon Jack with a pickled human toe in it - and so joined the Sourtoe Club. This makes me a much better person. Or not. Yuck. You'll read all about it (if you really want to) in the Star soon.

8. 30 a.m. and it's pitch black outside. Just 600 km of driving today, down to Whitehorse and then I hand over the RAV to Toyota. I'll be sorry to end this drive, but I've made it about as far north and west as you can drive in Canada so I guess it's time.

Day 8 - Dawson City, Yukon

Friday, 7 p.m.

5,793 km

The Robert Campbell Highway is a lonely road, but when the weather's fine and you have four-wheel drive and winter tires, it's an easy drive.

Made it! And the RAV's never missed a beat. Started no problem this morning at 30-below when all the other trucks in Ross River were plugged into the mains, and ran comfortably all the way through, stopping in Faro for a coffee and then turning north at Carmacks all the way up to Dawson.

The satellite radio hasn't picked up a good signal since northern B.C. so I've been listening to talking books from the library and cursing when the discs skip around their scratches. Came in to Dawson listening to Blue Rodeo singing "Lost," which seemed appropriate.

The road's been paved for most of the way today, but that doesn't mean it's been cleared. Frost heaves make it bouncy, too, which is not good around non-sanded curves. There were maybe half-a-dozen vehicles on the Klondike Highway for the 300 km that I drove on it, and just one on the Campbell. If the weather closes in tonight as it threatens to do, it'll make for a long drive down to Whitehorse tomorrow, and the end of this journey.

The Alaska Highway near Dawson is more slippery, as this driver found.

Guess that means I'll need some courage tonight. I'm staying at the Downtown Hotel, its only guest, and the Sourdough Saloon downstairs is the home of the infamous Sourtoe Cocktail. I'll be sure to take photos...

Day 7 - Ross River, Yukon

Thursday – 9.30 p.m.

5,197 km

There weren't many caribou on the highway, but it only takes one.

Didn’t leave Watson Lake until 3.30 so I’d changed my mind about coming this route, with only a couple of hours of daylight left and 373 km of gravel road before the first settlement or even gas here at Ross River. But I checked the highway conditions and everything seemed okay, and snow was forecast for Whitehorse, so I figured it was now or never.

The road started out okay, then became pretty good and smooth and well graded, then turned suddenly to uncleared crap 130 km from Ross River. I nearly slid off the road in the deep snow that had piled up where the plow turned back. Couldn’t drive much more than 60 km/h for a couple of hours, which was just as well given the threat of caribou on the road. Only saw one, but it was a big one and didn’t want to move off the centre line.

Drove for six hours, mostly in the dark, and only saw two vehicles – a pickup 30 km from Watson Lake, and another pickup 100 km from Watson Lake. This is why I brought a propane heater and extra chocolate bars. For much of the way, the road is raised above the surrounding land, so a slide off the lane would be impossible to drive away from. But kept it steady and got here in the end. It's 35 below outside and the temperature's dropping. Now I’m straight to bed. Got to prepare for the Sourtoe Cocktail in Dawson tomorrow...

Day 7 - Watson Lake, Yukon

Thursday – 3 p.m.

4,822 km

Just to confirm at the Watson Lake signpost forest, Toronto really is a long way away now.

Fairly easy drive up here, and quiet too. The mountains have flattened out. Not many trucks about. Got stuck behind a tanker and it was impossible to overtake for all the dry snow it threw up behind.

Watson Lake is famous for its Signpost Forest, with tens of thousands of signs from all over the world after a lonely GI put one up in 1941 to his home town in Danville, Ill. Estimates range from 30,000 to 70,000 signs, with probably 2,000 new ones every year. Many are town signs brought from home: “This is the biggest depository of stolen material in the world,” joked a guy here.

I brought a sign from Toronto and banged it in to a rare space on a pole. The rec centre next door lent me a ladder and one of the town workers helped and took pictures. The mileage is accurate on the sign for the route I’ve driven, taken off Microsoft Streets and Trips, but my odometer reads a bit less, and that’s including detours to find places to stay. There’ve been three odometer tests along the way – signs staked out every kilometer – and I think the Toyota’s speedo is about 1 per cent slow.

Day 7 - Liard River

Thursday – noon

4,638 km

Approaching vehicles are a hazard on the Alaska Highway because of the blinding snow they throw up behind.

It's 30-below. Has Mark lost his mind?

The temperature showed 30 below when I parked the RAV in the car here. There are some tire tracks, but no other vehicles and no sign of people. I can hear the tracks cracking in the cold, and when I walked the few hundred metres along a snowed-over boardwalk, the snow crunched loudly. This is cold!

But at the end of the boardwalk are the hot springs, heated naturally to more than 120 F, which is more than 50 C. With nobody around to be offended, I gritted my teeth, stripped down to my watch and walked down into the pool. It was fabulous, waist deep and large enough to swim around. Very eerie, too, with the steam and the silence. I’d brought a towel and a pair of shorts just in case because I knew about these hot springs – I sat in them 20 years ago when I came through on my bike, but that was summer and there were plenty of tourists about. This time, I had to spread my sweater on the ground as something to step onto when I got out and you’d better believe I got dressed quickly. On the walk back to the truck, I had to hold the towel against my face because I thought my cheeks would freeze.

There’s a lodge here with coffee. The girl behind the counter gave me a coffee for free. Everyone needs to warm up on a day like this, she said.

Day 7 - Toad River

Thursday, 9.30 a.m.

Don Brown gets a boost from the RAV at -34.

It's 34 below this morning and there's a few inches of snow on the ground. Even the locals are saying that it's a bit chilly.

The RAV started with no problem (as it should, with a new battery) and even gave a boost to Don Brown, on his way north to Watson Lake with a Mazda van he'd just bought in Vancouver.

Day 6 - Toad River, B.C.

Wednesday, 6.30 p.m.

4,516 km

Even in remote B.C., Mark still finds time to blog

That wasn't so bad, though it was starting to get a bit hairy as Toad River grew closer. The road's snow covered and it's 25 below, which is better for traction but not so good for visibility. I can't use the brights because there's snow falling and I can't see where I'm going, and with the low beams I can't see animals on the road up ahead. The highway is now narrow and winds through valleys and over passes - it's a quite different road from south of Fort Nelson. Whenever another vehicle passed the other way, it threw up dry snow from the road and completely blinded me, so I'd have to pull over and stop before it passed. Fortunately, only maybe six or seven vehicles passed in the last couple of hours.

Caribou like to lick the salt off the roadway and aren't too smart about cars.

I've checked into the Toad River Lodge, a basic roadstop for the Greyhound that's warm and friendly with a collection of thousands of baseball caps. There's even intranet access in the dining room, so I plugged in the laptop and went online to write this blog. A guy waiting for the Greyhound said, "Amazing - you could be in downtown Toronto." He's right in a way, but with the snow and cold and caribou and grizzlies out there, it also feels like a very long way away indeed.

Day 6 - Fort Nelson, B.C.

Wednesday, 3 p.m. PST

4,329 km

That bank of cloud over the river means the temperature is about to drop from zero to 20-below.

I asked for winter and I got it at the Sikanni River, halfway between Dawson Creek and here. The bank of cloud covered the river and as the road dropped down to the bridge, the temperature dropped 20 degrees C. From zero to –20C in five km. It hasn’t warmed up since. The trees are covered in ice but the road’s mostly clear.

The Alaska Highway is not yet that scenic, although after an hour of driving I could see high, snowy mountains off to the west. This is still rolling land, a road that cuts through a swath of trees, considerably improved from when it was first opened to the military in 1941. The road is literally hundreds of km shorter now as the bends have been straightened and the construction’s been considerably improved over time.

Stopped a couple of times for gas and found the stations were out. The RAV can go about 500 km on a tank, so I’ll need to fill up before Watson Lake, the next major town, which is 600 km away. There are just a few places open at this time of year, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’m going to try to find a place to stay at Toad River, an hour or so up the road, and failing that at Liard River. If all fails, I’ll just drive slowly through to Watson Lake, but I can’t believe there’s no bed to be found for 600 km – that’s the distance of Toronto to Montreal!

The RAV’s even more filthy now. Didn’t think it could get much dirtier.