tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55567732140549731832024-02-19T21:02:44.421-08:00Highway To AdventureLiving the RV LifestyleDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556773214054973183.post-14375784905572974102013-04-26T10:38:00.000-07:002018-02-17T09:40:55.153-08:00Eastern Sierra Nevada<h3>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">Leaving Death Valley for Lone Pine, CA</span></h3>
By our fourth day, we realized we could stay in Death Valley for a week or two at least. However, this trip was a reconnaisance to plan for the future. Next time we will arrive in February to avoid the heat and the crowds of March. The big question was how to drive over to Lone Pine, our next objective. <br />
We did our research online as well as talked to quite a few travelers and rangers about the best route. On the map, it looked like 190 was the way to go. Comments about this route varied from "insanity with a motorhome" to "an easy way to go." I decided to go for it, rather than spend several extra hours going through Beatty, Tonopah, and then over to 395.<br />
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By going slowly and using second gear, it was an easy trip going through Panamint Springs up to Owens Lake and connecting with 136 to Lone Pine. The views are spectacular, well worth the ups and downs on excellent roads.<br />
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<span style="color: #3d85c6;">Lone Pine and Tuttle Creek Campground</span></h3>
It's an amazing journey to the Eastern Sierras from the desert observing Mt. Whitney as our navigational beacon. Comfortable temperatures and sunny conditions welcomed us to route 395, one of our favorite drives in the USA. Last year we had explored a number of campgrounds in the region and we had settled on Tuttle Creek, a BLM campground nestled beneath the shadow of Mt. Whitney, just above the Alabama Hills, and a few miles from Lone Pine, California. This is one of our very favorite campgrounds in the American west. For a fee of $2.50 a night (dry camping), we were snuggled into a site with shade trees not more than ten yards from a trout stream recently stocked with 12-14 inch Rainbow Trout. It just doesn't get much better than this!<br />
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View from Lone Pine past the Alabama Hills to Mt. Whitney</h3>
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At Home at Tuttle Creek BLM Campground</h3>
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Tuttle Creek, a few yards from our motorhome</h3>
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A 13 inch Rainbow Trout for Dinner</h3>
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Views past the Alabama Hills to Inyo Mountains from our Campsite</h3>
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Evening Sunset towards the Sierra Nevada</h3>
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<br />Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556773214054973183.post-85284564071559620742013-04-24T23:46:00.000-07:002013-05-08T11:08:15.661-07:00Mesquite Flat Dunes<h2>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">Stovepipe Wells</span></h2>
The thing about Death Valley is there are so many possibilities. And, it's relatively flat for easy driving in this part of the park. It was time for us to move on however, and we set up a new base camp at Stovepipe Wells, about an hour away from Furnace Creek. We were especially attracted to the dunes and their easy access from the road close to the RV Park. Like yesterday, lots of wind but a drop in temperatures made it appealing to explore in the morning and evening.<br />
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<span style="color: #3d85c6;">Mesquite Flat Dunes</span></h2>
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The Mesquite Dunes are a photographers paradise depending on the time of day. They are easy access from the road and I can see the movie companies from Hollywood coming here again and again for some prime footage. Just happens we are watching the old series of "Kung Fu" on DVD with David Carradine playing Kwai Chang Caine (Grasshopper) as a Shaolin priest. The first introduction of every episode starts with Caine trekking through these stunning sand dunes. Now we have our chance of walking through them as well. They are in a gorgeous setting with lofty mountains on all sides and rise up to 150 feet, primarily caused by erosion of the nearby Cottonwood Mountains.<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Photography by David Roderick</span></h4>
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Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556773214054973183.post-46778897710234776052013-04-23T18:35:00.000-07:002013-05-07T20:46:06.000-07:00Lowest Point in North America<h2>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">Badwater Basin</span></h2>
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Temperatures dropped in the early morning and cooled things off enough to encourage us to drive to Badwater Basin, the lowest point in North America, at 282 feet below sea level according to the sign, but Ranger Bob said it's now lower at "284 feet below". Good enough for me! Visitors from all over the world joined us at the site, walking and gawking and clicking cameras to record this auspicious moment. I looked down and then up. OK! Where is Mt. Whitney, the highest point in the continental USA? Couldn't see it but I heard there was an ultramarathon in a few months that goes from this very site to the trailhead of Whitney Portal (8360 feet). It's described as the toughest race in the world with a 13,000 foot cumulative elevation gain. And...get this. It's in mid-July when the temperatures are hottest all around. How hot? 120 degrees and up. That adds up to about 157 miles on land with a course that has to go around lots and lots of natural obstacles, like salt beds, steep canyons, sand dunes, rattlesnakes, gold mines, and then bears as you get to the mountains. Just kidding. Or, am I? Originally it went all the way up to the top of Mt. Whitney at 14,494 feet above sea level. But lots of regulations changed this event when the National Forest Service required permits to hike to the summit. I did it over 30 years ago and it took me at least three days for the round trip from...no! not Badwater Basin...but from Whitney Portal. Thank God I did it then! </div>
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The lowest point in North America at 284 feet below sea level</h3>
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Visitors from all over the world joined us at the lowest point in North America</h3>
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<span style="color: #3d85c6;">Artist Drive</span></h2>
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We then slowly drove in the direction back to Furnace Creek to take-in the majestic Artist Drive.</div>
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Turning to the right, away from the salt flats to the Black Mountains, we took a one way surfaced road that meandered through a series of volcanic rock layers painted in reds, purples, pinks,orange, yellow, browns, blacks, and whites...with all kinds of related hues and colors in-between. A natural palette that is stunning to the eye. Lots of places to walk and get out of the car for more detailed observations while being on the lookout for rattlesnakes and other creatures I have no wish to discover at 100 degrees. This rock formation is actually called the Artist Formation dating back to the Miocene about 10,000 years ago during a particularly violent and explosive period of volcanic action. The colors are due to "chemical weathering and hydrothermal alteration", especially the rocks that contain iron (hematite) as they tend to oxidize and yield the rusts and reds and browns and greens. OK! I confess. My first college degree was in geology. But the guidebook helps with the description.</div>
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A stunning panorama through the Black Mountains and the Artist Drive</h3>
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<span style="color: #3d85c6;">The Inn at Furnace Creek</span></h2>
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It was time to return to the cooler climes in such places as the Inn at Furnace Creek for a gin tonic to celebrate the fact that we are still alive and didn't fall down a crater to the center of the earth or get bitten by a giant rattlesnake or get eaten by a saber tooth tiger lurking around from the Pliocene.</div>
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In rather British fashion, we retreated to the deck overlooking the valley with a six dollar gin tonic in hand to toast each other for a good day's work done. Of course, we will retreat to our RV domain at some later point, but in this air conditioned affluence, we enjoyed every minute of it. The rooms here, for the rich and famous, start at $340 plus taxes and other fees, to $480 for a suite. </div>
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The lovely Inn at Furnace Creek for those who prefer a bit of luxury in the desert</h3>
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Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556773214054973183.post-20897918511663009432013-04-22T16:26:00.000-07:002013-05-08T09:08:53.396-07:00Death Valley National Park<h2>
<span style="color: #0b5394;">Furnace Creek</span></h2>
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Time to leave Pahrump, Nevada where we spent the past week getting ready for our annual spring trek to Route 395 and the Sierra Nevada with its lofty mountains, lakes, rivers, and creeks around Lone Pine, Bishop, and Mammoth, California. In my opinion, this is one of the most beautiful stretches of land in the world sharing the lowest (Badwater Basin) and highest points (Mt.Whitney) in North America. This year we decided to cut through Death Valley for a few days before camping, hiking, kayaking, and fishing our way up north to Oregon.<br />
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Entrance to Death Valley National Park along Rt. 190</h3>
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Taking Rt. 160 out of Pahrump to connect with Rt. 190, it was less than an hour before we entered the National Park. Excellent roads along the way, especially within the park. Met a great group of motorcyclists from Western Canada at the Park sign where we took photos of each other. <br />
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Road into Furnace Creek along Rt. 190</h3>
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Then into the park, bypassing Dante's View, but stopping at Zebriskie's Point. Nola mentioned to me, "You know, it's kind of hot here at 2:00 PM." Little did we know the temperatures were over 100 degrees. But the walk up to the Point is well worth the time and effort as a beautiful panorama of badlands with different hues and colors jump out at you. This is an ideal place for sunrises and sunsets.<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">The Badlands at Zebriskie Point</span></h3>
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We drove slowly into Furnace Creek, admiring the luxurous Inn and more approachable Ranch at Furnace Creek on the way before entering the cool, lovely habitat of the Visitor Center. On the way in we noticed a temperature reading...106 degrees. Yikes! 106 degrees. Couldn't believe it! Would have melted if we were on the East Coast. Here...it's dry heat, but nonetheless, I had a water bottle in tow and drank every few minutes, which is totally unusual for me. Haven't experienced such thirst in years!</div>
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After getting the lay of the land and checking out two different RV Parks across from the Center, we decided to stay at Texas Spring Camp, set aside with areas for tenters as well as RVers. Better scenery with broken hills and valleys to view but trees and shade reserved for tenters. Having tented for 70 years, I figured they deserved it. Down below was another RV Park called Sunset, which seemed less inviting at the time. Kind of flat gravel sites without much wind or sun protection. Besides the intense heat, the winds came in gusts every once in a while with a strong warning not to put our awnings out to create an outdoor room. With Golden Age card, the RV sites were $6 (Sunset) and $7 (Texas Springs). Only a handful of RVers in either park.<br />
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<b>Ranger Bob Telling the Story of Harmony Borax Works and the 20 Mule Team</b></h3>
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After a healthy dinner of Greek Salad, and lots of ice water to quench our thirst, we drove our car over to Harmony Borax Works site at 7 PM for a talk by Ranger Bob on the history of the Borax Works and 20 Mule Teams. Bringing our own chairs and water, we joined a small group of fellow travelers, learning about the short and profitable history of the Borax Works. By bringing Chinese laborers from San Francisco to dig the whitish borax out of the ground, they piled it into narrow wagons led by 18 mules and two horses, and two teamsters across 165 miles of desert to the railroad head in Majove. Started in 1883, things went great for five years and huge profits were made by the owner, W.T. Coleman. However, the company went bankrupt by 1888 because the owner's sons talked him into investing most of his wealth into a sure thing with even greater profits. Been there...done that! </div>
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One final note to end the day. Winds plowed along at 25 mph all night with gusts up to 50 mph. The temps in the RV were in the low 90's before dropping into the 70's. The worst night on the road, ever, with rocking and rolling, wondering if our kayaks would fly off into the next county. Forget April, come here in February or early March.</div>
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Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556773214054973183.post-50358054193013762942010-08-13T13:40:00.000-07:002010-08-13T13:51:03.352-07:00Skagway to HainesThe area around Skagway reminds me of the saying..."Location, location, location." It's an incredible piece of real estate. With a population of less than 1000 during most of the year, there are some 800,000 tourists and adventure seekers who set foot in this company-government town during the summer that's found at the northernmost point of the Inside Passage. A mere 100 miles by air to Juneau, capital of Alaska, it's 112 scenic miles by road to Whitehorse, capital of the Yukon. Signs, books, and an endless stream of literature remind us that it's the gateway to the Klondike. I looked at the maps and tried to figure out what I would do if I had been one of those eager, adventurous, crazed gold seekers. Of the 100,000 people who tried, less than one percent found the yellow stuff, at least enough to turn a profit. That's less than 1000 dreamers who dared to follow the yellow brick road to wealth. Yikes! <br />
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Would I have been so tempted? Well ... when I retired I stuck a fair amount of money into the stock market and experienced three great declines that wiped out a good deal of our capital. So who made all that money in the great USA during the past 20 years? It wasn't<br />
the gold seekers like me...no it was the same types who prospered during the Klondike days. You know! The ones who supplied the shovels, the tents, the gold pans, the boats, the women, the food...but now in the ongoing modern "gold rush" we call them stockbrokers, option traders, hedge fund managers, bankers, corporate CEO's of multinational corporations, the people of Wall Street. It's a bit chilling to learn that about one percent of the US population currently owns 90 percent of its resources in this day and age. Or...is that just made up?<br />
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I suspect that the Klondikers were as confused and despondent from the 1893 stock market crash and following economic depression as many are today from the housing debacle of 2008 and the possible crash that looks more and more likely in 2012 regardless who is in office. Fewer than 3000 people took the "all-water" route from Seattle to St Michael, Alaska and then up the Yukon River to Dawson. Frankly that's the route I would have selected. But most people didn't have the funds to pay for ship passage. And, on reflection, my wife and I opted out of the marine highway route ourselves because of the cost... about $1500 for us and our beloved motor home, "Dorothy." That meant we had to go overland, a trip that took us nearly two weeks due to our comfortable, slow paced speed of 50 miles per hour to soak it all in, search for wildlife, and dilly dally along the way to kayak lakes, rivers and streams. We could have made it in three or four days or so by combining ship and road to Whitehorse.<br />
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So similar decisions must have plagued the early travelers to Skagway and Dawson as we recently experienced. About 2000 prospectors went the all-land route by way of Edmonton, as described in the excellent novel, "The Journey" by James Michener. Most, however, chose a combination of getting to Skagway, then hiking the challenging Chilkoot Pass or White Pass and eventually floating down the Yukon River. It was that one ton of goods to carry 40 or so times over the passes that would have made me think and rethink the whole idea of seeking wealth in the Klondike at all. What was that magical driving force that led men and women into such an impossible undertaking?<br />
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As we crossed the waterway by ferry to Haines from Skagway for a cost of $151, I thought about Skagway and Dyea. We had only been there for three days and two nights, yet it had made an incredible impression upon us, much like the first time I read Jack London's, "Call of the Wild" when I was about ten years old. What is this myth of Alaska? Who are these people? Where is this land? Fortunately, there are a number of people and buildings that house relics from the past that answer many of these questions along the way, such as the Sheldon Museum of Haines.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIwB1LqOtaVBtT_mxp9UlAx1yaEDyrRKLXGfSJE5i3b5GcwDNq5tBeuMJsIeKlH6tghiVUGQUZ7ol1wGApItEmqLeOvEllV6vTLtuoDP4fgZNCTNzKELP9oqloRVOw2z3r5aAqWdSAtBo/s1600/IMG_0827.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIwB1LqOtaVBtT_mxp9UlAx1yaEDyrRKLXGfSJE5i3b5GcwDNq5tBeuMJsIeKlH6tghiVUGQUZ7ol1wGApItEmqLeOvEllV6vTLtuoDP4fgZNCTNzKELP9oqloRVOw2z3r5aAqWdSAtBo/s400/IMG_0827.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><i>The Sheldon Museum and Cultural Center</i></span></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: left;"></div>The present day Sheldon Museum occupies the land that originally served as a Presbyterian mission to the Tlingit Indians. It houses a variety of local Native artifacts as well as goods from the days of the miners and missionaries. Across the street is the unique Hammer Museum that includes over 1500 hammers and related tools. And beyond that is a small natural history museum called the American Bald Eagle Foundation that displays over 200 specimens of local fish and wildlife. For me, I mostly spent time hiking the streets, poking into bakeries, restaurants, and stores in addition to spending time in the small but comfortable library. Haines is a small, unassuming, sleepy village that gives a taste of coastal Alaska.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGX5HbM8fuv-8O7qZ6X2j6blZhRbnKr877KeLBrVVU8ydk4Nrebr1u2AzE2IVdxOr388nLCdvxrJA-YrPgMxOXQKBizjcYbTUIphIqMQQTIVeXxkGdyVIdRfsRaQj4DY80biYmdPAJVUM/s1600/IMG_0825.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGX5HbM8fuv-8O7qZ6X2j6blZhRbnKr877KeLBrVVU8ydk4Nrebr1u2AzE2IVdxOr388nLCdvxrJA-YrPgMxOXQKBizjcYbTUIphIqMQQTIVeXxkGdyVIdRfsRaQj4DY80biYmdPAJVUM/s400/IMG_0825.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><i>The Hammer Museum that houses over 1500 different hammers from all over the world.</i></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgQbyr1cR46qaoAwbYQbb25UmMm0BsVvnvodB4yX_b9tO7VMckzaRY7-Yrr07lzNsimuecrrSy_WIku4kaqGjgbctMbMX5yS4FFlVqj4FAB8sThcPtovrtHj7hAHB0WLMf6G5LHS4oboc/s1600/IMG_0804.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="357" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgQbyr1cR46qaoAwbYQbb25UmMm0BsVvnvodB4yX_b9tO7VMckzaRY7-Yrr07lzNsimuecrrSy_WIku4kaqGjgbctMbMX5yS4FFlVqj4FAB8sThcPtovrtHj7hAHB0WLMf6G5LHS4oboc/s400/IMG_0804.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><i>The Bear Den is one of three bakeries in town.</i></span></td></tr>
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I haven't found a town yet in Alaska or northern B.C. that didn't have a bakery. I am not embarrassed to say that I love bakeries. Sometimes I wander in just for a cup of coffee, the delicious smell of fresh bakery products, and meet some of the regulars who hang out there. Other times I succumb to temptation and get a Danish or a doughnut. But the thing to buy in Alaska is fresh Rhubarb pie a la mode. That is an Alaskan specialty and in May and June it's rhubarb season. I have taken on the research project of checking out the bakeries of Alaska. So far, I have found that most bakery regulars come from someplace else, including the owners. The husband-wife team who own the attractive Chilkat Bakery come from Portland, Oregon and spend the summers in Haines. They had a thriving business of combining a restaurant and bakery together that attracted tourists as well as locals.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ1ssOlf2C4R9aqaIRt7TCnisCctkstM9LEXpw5oZi_nw_n-m7OZ3YXpcOz4Jj5wMk3R1HIOR5xEZ_n1PMlaj79AXpHUf6F3n9FdRLlXqYgDfvoUvLWdUiJrWEZD8K5bwB_HIcobm9XR4/s1600/IMG_0822.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ1ssOlf2C4R9aqaIRt7TCnisCctkstM9LEXpw5oZi_nw_n-m7OZ3YXpcOz4Jj5wMk3R1HIOR5xEZ_n1PMlaj79AXpHUf6F3n9FdRLlXqYgDfvoUvLWdUiJrWEZD8K5bwB_HIcobm9XR4/s400/IMG_0822.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><i>The Chilkat Bakery in Haines</i></span><br />
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</tbody></table>Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556773214054973183.post-54291677603925253752010-07-31T21:32:00.000-07:002010-07-31T21:32:48.235-07:00Introduction to the Chilkoot TrailThere were a host of reasons Nola and I wanted to visit Alaska this summer of 2010. For me they not only involved the opportunities to fish, kayak, hike, and explore, but to learn more about the colorful history of Alaska. By hiking the Chilkoot Trail, we could retrace the journey of the 1898 prospectors firsthand. Another big one, however, involved investigating the history of my grandfather who ran off to Alaska from Waterville, Maine sometime in the late 1920s. He left his family of five young sons and a wife behind to fend for themselves during the Great Depression and eventually returned many years later in a pine box. I assumed that he ran off to make a fortune in the goldfields, but by then the gold had played out and it turns out that he worked on the railroad somewhere between Anchorage and Fairbanks according to family history. I found that the railroads were just as important as gold in establishing the early fortunes of Alaska. Indeed, the city of Dyea died out rather quickly in the early 1900s when Skagway was chosen as the main starting point for the railroad to Whitehorse and beyond.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ9zWQtOJB_BAUg9mPrGnZRyLTMX0X8Y4E0gVdlGY-os9bEjtp3K6DYSf_UlG4-a8dTv9Tzrg1VikkaySmH55P5WvB45aoYUAIYte4gwOuicg1B_QHzs5_8VqPIvmogxigpReNsH6lX3Q/s1600/IMG_0782.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ9zWQtOJB_BAUg9mPrGnZRyLTMX0X8Y4E0gVdlGY-os9bEjtp3K6DYSf_UlG4-a8dTv9Tzrg1VikkaySmH55P5WvB45aoYUAIYte4gwOuicg1B_QHzs5_8VqPIvmogxigpReNsH6lX3Q/s400/IMG_0782.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The Beginning of the Chilkoot Trail at Dyea Campground</span><br />
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In the days of the actual gold rush, prospectors were normally ferried from Skagway to Dyea where they would start preparations for hiking the Chilkoot Trail to eventually reach the goldfields around Dawson City some 600 miles away. This was the most popular access route from the coast to the Yukon goldfields, the shortest and least expensive. In 1898, Dyea had 150 businesses, 48 hotels, and 2 hospitals. By 1903, all were abandoned leaving just three people as the resident population. Today, the combination of this historic American and Canadian route is celebrated and preserved as part of the Klondike Gold Rush National Historic Park (USA) and Chilkoot Trail National Historic Site (of Canada). For the early prospectors, it was necessary to haul one ton (2000 pounds) of gear over the Pass to the Canadian side which included such things as 150 pounds of bacon, 400 pounds of flour, 125 pounds of beans, 75 pounds of dried fruits, and other assorted foodstuffs including coffee, tea, sugar, etc. In short, enough provisions to last one full year.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCq6nA0CxAcy9XGBj7SW16Ts1xRIhwAPJA5FYGyw6vL85KK5eB57-m3LaIqD2ZhLsFqlch9Uz7yix65PxZHnJu4HReuMHpsEcrXJvjePUaoF4AXpgP_g47LTRXE80-zJfwuVGIJE0Dp1k/s1600/IMG_0705.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCq6nA0CxAcy9XGBj7SW16Ts1xRIhwAPJA5FYGyw6vL85KK5eB57-m3LaIqD2ZhLsFqlch9Uz7yix65PxZHnJu4HReuMHpsEcrXJvjePUaoF4AXpgP_g47LTRXE80-zJfwuVGIJE0Dp1k/s320/IMG_0705.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Nola on the way up Saintly Hill in the first mile of the Chilkoot Trail</span></i></td></tr>
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For us? Well...forget the one ton of goods. We decided to bring our day packs, take a lunch, pack our rain gear, wear bear bells, and make an exploratory trip of one day to Finnegan's Point, about 7 miles round trip from our campsite. We wanted to test it out to see if we were really interested in completing the entire hike of 33 miles to Bennett Lake in B.C. at a later date. But it became apparent after completing the first leg of the journey up Saintly Hill that Nola's ankles and feet would not survive the whole trek without a lot of pain. In my case, I was surprised at my huffing and puffing at the beginning, but felt a lot better by time we reached the top. I attributed my own slow pace to being out of shape from too much driving instead of biking or hiking up demanding hills and mountains. So, this hill was just enough challenge to start the trip off. It felt great when we reached the top and a relief to find out that the trail was not all straight up for the entire day. Saintly Hill deserves its name from the fact that anyone is a saint if they do not curse on their way up. Despite the initial challenge, I ended up loving the trip and I found out quickly that I am no saint.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Love those well built bridges that make the trail flat, dry and scenic.</span></i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Zen views of Face Mountain </span></i></td></tr>
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The initial hills gave way to well worn trails that often bordered the Taiya River offering a variety of zen views. We eventually walked across swampland aided by parallel walking boards. That made it easy and exciting at the same time looking for beaver, muskrats, and birdlife along the way. Can't imagine what the trail looked like in 1898.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP_ROVz4PH8dmuuQT_pVundOl5v8d50vtJ72iRpU0PRS40xKclJmNz1Tzd3uXQ4OHUoyXiOuH6djADxeW1NpBzPGL1YgkY1AwR6vK_7rhoMzDrgLd7hnv10-v5iGD9xx-B-OGBvr5f494/s1600/IMG_0746.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP_ROVz4PH8dmuuQT_pVundOl5v8d50vtJ72iRpU0PRS40xKclJmNz1Tzd3uXQ4OHUoyXiOuH6djADxeW1NpBzPGL1YgkY1AwR6vK_7rhoMzDrgLd7hnv10-v5iGD9xx-B-OGBvr5f494/s400/IMG_0746.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Crossing the swampland looking for beaver, muskrats and birdlife.</span></i></td></tr>
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Eventually we penetrated a dark, brooding forest with zillions of mosquitoes droning around our heads...among our first in Alaska. As long as we kept walking it wasn't so bad, but we rested a few minutes for a quick lunch and they attacked us like the Mongol warriors of Genghis Khan. That was the quickest lunch ever as we had forgotten our head nets thinking we had somehow escaped mosquito season. Big mistake!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The dark forest beckons the unwary hiker. </span><br />
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It was tough for me to turn around at only 3.3 miles and retrace our steps. I really wanted to see what was up ahead and go through the more challenging parts of the trail experiencing Canyon City, Pleasant Camp, Sheep Camp, The Scales, The Golden Stairs, the Chilkoot Pass, and the trails to Lindeman and Bennett Lakes. So I decided to do it later in the summer by myself and join another 50 or so hikers who would sign the register, pay $50 in fees, and join the tens of thousands of others who have made this trek in the past. This appeared to be a challenging hike offering a variety of scenery with remnants of items along the trail left by earlier hikers and prospectors, and a good feeling for what it must have been like during those earlier days. Of course, the first day was the easy part. But...it looks like a great adventure!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> A documentary in the making with Canadian actor volunteers and Canadian Public Television of Quebec.</span></i><br />
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</i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">As we made our way back along the path, we started meeting more day trekkers. Most were part of small tour groups offered by Princess Cruise Lines who practically owned the nearby port of Skagway. But the biggest surprise was to meet a television production crew and volunteer actors from Canadian Television making a film for Public Television in Quebec. With a group of about 20 people selected from all over Canada, they were involved in the reenactment and filming of the early French voyagers and prospectors who had climbed the Chilkoot Trail and went on to Dawson City. Dressed in typical dress of the time, using similar tools, camping and cooking like those of 1898, the film would document what it was like for today's adventurers to spend three months slowly making their way with all of their struggles and triumphs to Dawson City. With any luck, we would meet them once again on their entrance to Dawson City in August.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Two actors had blisters from the old style boots used on the trek and spent their days in camp as cooks and camp helpers. Note the use of flip flops for the day as their feet healed. The documentary required that all actors wear clothing of the time for the entire length of the film (three months), and eat similar food from their 500 pounds of gear they were required to transport for this journey (rather than the full 2000 pounds per person for a year).</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><i>Home Sweet Home on the Chilkoot Trail</i></span></td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556773214054973183.post-82928714325575630692010-07-22T17:11:00.000-07:002013-05-05T19:31:52.086-07:00Part II. Whitehorse to Skagway, AlaskaWe spent our last night in Whitehorse at the local Walmart where we free camped with 35 other RV rigs. It was a bit like an RV rally of people driving to Alaska and points north. Met one traveler who was developing a bear alarm for tent campers to warn them if a bear was too close while they were sleeping. A fairly simple device with a nylon line rigged around the tent so that a pocket sized alarm went off if something disturbed it. He showed me the prototype and it looked good to me. For the previous five nights we have stayed at the Hi Country RV Park which provided a rest bit and a chance to catch up on the internet, collect mail, take a long shower, do laundry, and explore Whitehorse on foot. But now we are set to embark on Part II of our adventure...driving to and experiencing the real Alaska!<br />
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The road to Skagway from Whitehorse is called the South Klondike Highway and is the most scenic route into interior Alaska (or so I was told). It's another journey into the beauty of the natural world with snow capped mountains, emerald lakes and glacial rivers presenting one spectacular view after another. Only 110 miles in length, this is a great side trip off the Alaska Highway either continuing by ferry to Haines and other southeast Alaska points or returning back to Whitehorse to continue on to Tok, Alaska. </div>
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Yahoo! Our first entry to Alaska was near the outpost of Fraser, British Columbia. The border crossing was easy with one lone patrolman asking us a few casual questions about where we had traveled and future destinations in a cheery manner. This was in contrast to the Canadian border patrol who have been stern, uptight, and all business on our previous crossings into Canada. I commented to my wife..."What's their problem?" On the other hand, I wonder how the American border patrol treats the Canadians. On this trip I have heard horror stories about Europeans entering the USA by air and grilled up to 30 minutes, not once but several times as they move from one area of the airport to another. As a result, I have met several German and Swiss travelers in B.C. who told me they refuse to travel to the USA now and confine their North American travel to Canada. The last time I traveled from Istanbul, Turkey to New York, I was questioned four times with accompanying baggage search before I was allowed to enter the airplane. I asked the Turkish authorities about the redundant searches and one officer replied that it was demanded by the American authorities. It's a sad time for world travel and the air industry as compared to the hey days of Pan Am and TWA when air travel was great fun. After more than 50 years of flying around the world many times on business and pleasure, I rarely travel by plane anymore and much prefer to drive our motorhome or tour by recumbent bicycle. </div>
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One of my goals on this trip was to experience the days of the Klondike and get a feeling for what it must have been like to search for gold in the frenzy of the Gold Rush of 1898. No better place to begin this side adventure than camping at Dyea Campground and possibly hiking the Chilkoot Trail over White Mountain Pass and relive the stories and days of yesteryear. We entered Dyea Junction in the late afternoon of June 8th about ten miles prior to reaching Skagway; left the tarmac and traveled eight miles on a twisting, gravel road to the former town of Dyea. We were at the starting point of the Chilkoot Trail and the former site of a city that contained a population of over 10,000 people in 1898 that rivaled Skagway in size at the time. Now a National Historical Park, all that's left are remnants of a wharf that received supplies and gold seekers traveling up the inland passage, a few scattered buildings, a cemetery, and a campground for present day visitors. </div>
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We were very fortunate to meet the campground volunteers, Judy and Jim Finses of California, who took us on a personal tour of Dyea and learned that there were over 40 graves in the Slide Cemetery many bearing the date of the Palm Sunday avalanche. After viewing the waterfront remains, the Taiya River where pink salmon swim upstream in July pursued by brown and grizzly bears, and the remains of Slide Cemetery, we were ready to hit the sack and dream about the Gold Rush of 1898. Jim left us with one admonition, "Beware of the grizzly bears in camp!"<br />
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Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556773214054973183.post-63393281463636235122010-07-16T18:22:00.000-07:002010-07-16T18:22:00.025-07:00McBride Museum of Yukon HistoryI'm not especially a great fan of museums. I'd rather be out doing something like creating a new adventure. But I really liked the McBride Museum. This North Country is so vast that I found a look at the past is helpful to understanding the phenomenon of the 1897 Gold Rush and how it relates to the present day Yukon Territory.<br />
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This is a history laden series of buildings that offer displays, interpretive programs, guided tours, geology, natural history, programs on the NW Mounted Police (Mounties), and exhibits of the native peoples, and the Gold Rush.<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">This was a great opportunity to review the natural history and animal life of this region. So far we had seen many of the animals preserved in the museum, except for the elusive wolverine. Along the highway, on our walks, or on the lakes, we had seen bear (grizzly and black), moose, snowshoe hare, beavers, muskrats, wolves, and Mountain Sheep. We were still looking for Caribou and Wolverines.</div><br />
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The museum also provides an unusual glimpse of life in the late 1800s. From Sam McGee's cabin to the everyday life of the prospector, a visit provides an opportunity to delve deeper into the era of the Gold Rush. As I said previously, one can get a great overview of the Yukon Territory and the city of Whitehorse by walking around the city on the many walking paths in and out of Whitehorse, visiting the McBride Museum during the day, and visiting the Frantic Follies at night. This is a great town!Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556773214054973183.post-2148137832964669752010-07-16T16:56:00.000-07:002010-07-16T16:56:07.670-07:00Whitehorse, Yesterday and TodayI like Whitehorse! First of all this is a great walking and bicycling town with about 25,000 residents, most of them attractive, young and healthy. Canoes, kayaks, and bicycles adorn every other car. What a great outdoor center! Reminds me very much of Bend, Oregon where we spend many of our summers these days. Mountains in the background, a river flowing through the middle of town, lively coffee and bakery spots, and beautiful women and handsome young men. And lots of historic and natural history museums. A great mix of the past with a dynamic present and an unlimited future.<br />
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Whitehorse derived its present name from the White Horse Rapids which looked like "the flowing manes of charging white horses". These rapids, located south of the city in the dangerous Miles Canyon, offered a series of water hazards and obstacles that challenged the best of the early river runners. Initially tramways were built to deliver goods around the rapids in 1897, then the railway bypassed the rapids in 1900 to connect rail service and riverboats to Dawson City. Now the Yukon river has been tamed by the Whitehorse hydro-electric dam and the capital of the Yukon Territory was moved from Dawson City to Whitehorse. The city has experienced a series of boom and bust times over the years including the last one which was fueled by the construction of the Alaska-Canada Highway. Owing much of its wealth to the mining industry, tourism also plays an important role today in the building of this dynamic young community.<br />
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The sternwheeler, S.S. Klondike, serves as a reminder of the importance Whitehorse played as a major transportation center of this region as well as a starting point for miners and prospectors seeking their fortunes in the gold fields. In its heyday, there were over 250 riverboats plying the Yukon River, making Whitehorse an important riverboat port rivaling those on the Mississippi. However, when the gold boom was over, the population dropped to about 300 residents. It wasn't until 1942 and the construction of the Alaska Highway that Whitehorse regained its economic clout and political domination of the Yukon Territory.<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">This is the first town on our trip where I just liked hanging out and watching the people go by while sipping coffee and sampling the local pastry delights. It's small enough that it has a distinct personality that is inviting. I suppose that I sound like the local Chamber of Commerce but I think we build the majority of our cities in the Lower 48 too big, too sprawling, and too impersonal. So when I experience a smaller town like this, I like to acknowledge the city planners and residents that something is going right. If it didn't have temps in the minus fifties during the winter, I'd be tempted to move. Well...maybe. Well...OK...I'm getting a bit carried away for I love Bend and Eugene, Oregon.</div><br />
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This is a modern, thriving town that blends the old and new with wide streets, interesting shops, coffee houses, art galleries, inviting restaurants, outdoor outfitters, grocery stores, government buildings, tourism offices, and a variety of museums, parks, and healthy, friendly people plus plenty of RV parks not too far from downtown.<br />
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One can visit the White Pass Railroad Station Depot as well as a number of other historical buildings.<br />
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Geez! It didn't take long for my wife Nola to be swept away by the North West Mounted Moose guarding the streets of downtown Whitehorse. Gotta watch her every minute!<br />
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<div>I especially liked the murals that reminded me of the gold rush in the Klondike and the many challenges prospectors faced to reach Dawson City by way of the Chilkoot Trail. </div><div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But I was most taken with the thoughts of what life must have been like in those frantic times when all was sacrificed to reach the gold fields. Nothing bought the whole era together better for me than a day at the McBride Museum and an evening at the Frantic Follies. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The Frantic Follies initially appeared in 1981 and has been a success ever since. A creation of Jim Murdoch, it has captured the hearts of the Yukon as well as my own. I enjoyed it immensely and recommend it as part of any visit to Whitehorse.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556773214054973183.post-68608288134064386152010-07-13T15:43:00.000-07:002010-07-13T15:43:22.835-07:00Whitehorse, Yukon Territory and Travel Logistics<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivj3J78PENXHK_F0VMiGy5uXzuipNs7UKLUjStYCr9bGFKMTvn1tk7PLDf-V_nlK5loUlLv4B_jn3VYo3Bgts4WWAZpl0GZt4Cbj-neD-l1UygFI2hvwpH1JY-bXtAuWFyOLqt_wQWSQs/s1600/IMG_0616.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivj3J78PENXHK_F0VMiGy5uXzuipNs7UKLUjStYCr9bGFKMTvn1tk7PLDf-V_nlK5loUlLv4B_jn3VYo3Bgts4WWAZpl0GZt4Cbj-neD-l1UygFI2hvwpH1JY-bXtAuWFyOLqt_wQWSQs/s400/IMG_0616.JPG" width="372" /></a></div><br />
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</div>Yahoo! Reaching Whitehorse in the Yukon Territory was the first goal on our trip to Alaska. From here we will leave the Alaska - Canada Highway and take the Klondike Highway to enter Alaska and the historic town of Skagway. Whitehorse serves as a pivot point, economic hub, capital and largest city of the Yukon Territory. For us and most other Alaska bound travelers, it is a place to relax, delve into the history of the gold rush era, and participate in a variety of attractions and outdoor adventures offered by local tour operators. With a Walmart and several large grocery stores, we wanted to stock up on groceries and supplies, make any needed repairs, and get ready for the next leg. We plan to return here at a later date in August or early September after taking the Top-of-the-World Highway to Dawson City on our trip back to the USA. The map below, compliments of www. geology.com, shows the geographic position of Whitehorse to Alaska, BC, and the Northwest Territories. With the exception of the last six miles of the Cassiar Highway, the main roads were excellent, far exceeding my expectations.<br />
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It has taken a very leisurely 13 days to reach this point enjoying the incredible scenery, lakes, road system, people, wildlife, and parks of British Columbia. By crossing the Canadian border on May 20, we enjoyed sunny, warmish weather as we left the rains and overcast days of Oregon behind us. At first, we debated whether to leave at such an early date, but as I had learned on previous trips, the best weather in Alaska is usually in May and June. In a summary of costs thus far, we spent a total of $1225 or approximately $94 per day. This broke down to $246 for campsites (averaging $19 a night), $184 for groceries and dining out (average of $14 a day), approximately $720 for gas ($55 a day), $75 for other items including museum entrance fees, and a 10-day fishing license in BC for $52 (average of $6 a day). We used about 180 gallons of gas at an average of $4.00 a gallon for 1600 miles yielding 9 miles to the gallon. Gas was the major cost item simply because we needed to cover a large distance. Anyone who has not driven a motorhome may be shocked by nine miles to the gallon, but most 27 foot RVs with gas engines will average about 8-10 miles to the gallon. With kayaks on top, our efficiency drops a bit although we balance this out by driving about 50 mph rather than our normal 55. Once we reach our main destinations like Homer, Alaska, we can relax and spend a week or more in most camp sites to reduce overall expenses. Our budget is $2500 a month.Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556773214054973183.post-66616263903996959402010-07-09T18:37:00.000-07:002010-07-09T18:37:49.201-07:00Carcross and Caribou CrossingLooking at the map on our way to Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, I saw that we were close to the towns of Tagish and Carcross. It wasn't until we were actually in Carcross that I made the connection between the Tlingit people of Carcross and the Athabascan community of Tagish. If I had followed a cultural itinerary, we would have traveled to these aboriginal communities first before entering the capital city of the Yukon. So in this blog that is exactly what I am doing to make more sense of this cultural milieu. <br />
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The Tlingit people called this area <i>Naataase Heen, "water running through the narrows." </i> The Tagish called it <i>Todezzane, </i>"blowing all the time." In 1898, it served as a North-West Mounted Police post and a First Nation community. By 1899, they called this community Caribou Crossing, where the local woodland caribou crossed the narrows of Carcross River as it emptied into Bennett Lake. By 1900, a rail line was constructed to Atlin. By 1902, the Post Office and Telegraph Office shared space in the same building with the NWM Police. In 1906, it was officially named simply Carcross. By 1909, much of town burned down only to start all over again.<br />
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There was something intriguing about the remnants of this town as I walked from building to building trying to figure out what it must have been like during the days of the Klondike gold rush and the prospector's determination for getting to Dawson City. It had the feeling of early homemade frontier architecture melding into the present day. In fact, many of the originals survived to this day where property values have gone through the roof, so to speak. What looked like a shack to be purchased for $20,000 was worth more than $200,000 with a stunning view of the lake.<br />
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This is the Bobby Watson House which was originally built in 1903. In the 1920's, it housed the local Mounties and a jail. In 1955, it became a residence once again for the son of Matthew Watson who purchased it in 1914.<br />
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In the 1940s as other towns failed and were abandoned, notable buildings were brought to Carcross. Among them was St. John the Baptist Catholic Church which holds services today on every Sunday.<br />
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In a more typical log cabin design, new homes are starting to be built in this area of booms and busts, heartbreaks and euphoria, subsistence and accumulation, harmony with nature and living on the grid. All grist for the mill!Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556773214054973183.post-30907735197989842812010-07-09T16:07:00.000-07:002010-07-09T16:07:41.752-07:00Tlingit Country, Totem Poles, and ChangeI first encountered the Tlingit Indians in Sitka, Alaska on a stopover using the Alaska State Ferry system over 20 years ago. I was fascinated by their totem poles, meeting houses, sea going canoes, and elaborate carvings made of cedar. However, it was a surprise to learn there were Tlingit tribal members also living in interior Alaska and the Yukon. I had assumed that the Haida and Tlingit lived primarily in Southeastern Alaska and British Columbia and the Athabascan dominated the interior but here were the Tlingit living on Teslin Lake, a huge body of water some 86 miles long with Lake trout, Grayling, and Dolly Varden.<br />
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I've always been fascinated by Totem Poles. The Teslin Tlingit Heritage Center answered one of my life long questions, "What do they symbolize?" I learned that they represent the tribes and elements of their society: the eagle (air), frog (water), wolf (land), beaver (water), and raven (air). The Heritage Center explains this as well as a good deal more about the culture of the Inland Tlingit with about 450 members living in Teslin. "Their own name for themselves is Lingit, meaning human beings." Whatever their past language grouping, I found that most of the First Nation People I met in Canada spoke excellent English. And I was fascinated by the fact the Tlingit are a matrimonial society that developed a hunter-gatherer culture primarily based on the salmon along the coast and hunting, fishing, and trapping in the interior.<br />
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Despite the devastation of these inland peoples caused by the building of the Alaska Highway in 1942, the story and success of George Johnston is noteworthy. He was a revered Tlingit Elder (1884 -1982), skillful trapper, successful fur trader, an accomplished entrepreneur, and a dynamic photographer. But of all the stories I heard at the museum, I loved the tales most about his beloved 1928 Chevrolet. It seems no matter the age, the hardships, or the society, there is always one person who stands out. In hindsight, I wish we had stayed longer in Teslin but the Call of the Yukon beckoned us forward.Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556773214054973183.post-54313689937460934302010-07-08T21:28:00.000-07:002013-05-05T19:36:30.188-07:00Entering the Yukon TerritoryOn July 1st we slowly made our way on a difficult six mile stretch of gravel road that would complete all 450 miles of the Cassiar Highway. Traffic slowed to ten miles an hour as we approached the famed Alaska Highway (ALCAN). It made me wonder...how many more miles of gravel and rough roads will there be on our way to and through Alaska? If we had a breakdown, would our insurance and emergency road services such as Coach-Net or Good Sam be able to help us? I knew we had it easy today as stories about the early road travelers to Alaska and the Yukon are legendary, with tires, front ends, radiators, fenders and entire cars or trucks littering the sides of the highway. We had it very easy so far: a great road, great campgrounds, great weather, great fishing...and few mosquitoes. I decided to erase any negative thoughts from my mind and focus on the moment.<br />
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We finally turned west onto Highway 1 by noon. In contrast to the Cassiar, the ALCAN was a relative freeway. Wide lanes with shoulders large enough for safe bicycling. It was time to celebrate! Within a few miles we made it to a smallish town of maybe five shops with an independent bakery among them. I was really looking forward to some treat after being in the wilds of northern British Columbia for so long...to a shower, haircut, and a bakery. So I entered this shop made like an elegant log cabin. Homemade treats were in abundance. Apple turnovers especially caught my eye. But...there was no one there to sell them. We went out front, in the back, on the sides...no one to be seen. Back to the motorhome to make a snack. About 20 minutes later, I tried again and voila...the baker was there! I asked the price for a coffee and turnover. And he rudely made a comment that I shouldn't have to be concerned about prices in his shop. Maybe $10. Maybe $20. I looked and saw the turnovers were marked at $6 each. Yikes! Basic coffee for $4 or was it $14. Maybe this was Northern humor. But he wasn't smiling. It took the wind out of my sails and I indeed had to think this whole matter over. I knew some items were expensive along the ALCAN. But this expensive? First the gravel...now the pastry. This was not my favorite day on the road. Was he having a bad hair day (he was bald), was he trying to make a joke, or was he just being a PITA? Or, were prices going to be a real concern the rest of the way? He lost a sale and I realized that I would have to adjust my expectations. Again, I would focus on the moment...well, in this case, the next moment because we were about to enter the Yukon Territory. Later I would laugh at being upset over such a small incident. If only the early travelers had it so good!<br />
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In fact, life did get better as we crossed this imaginary border. The sun came out and all of the stories I had read by Jack London and poems of Robert W. Service came to mind, especially those about the Klondike. Just the sound of "The Yukon Territory" yielded a dozen thoughts and one-time dreams of working and living in the Yukon. It was hard to believe in a way...but we were now in the legendary Yukon. What was fact, what was real, what was fiction, what was imagination?<br />
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In real life today, the fact is we still had approximately 140 miles (241 KM) to go before we entered the town of Teslin, our first major stop in the Yukon, and then onto Whitehorse, another 110 miles (183 KM beyond that) for the next day. As the key driver, my job is to figure out the daily and weekly itinerary and costs along the way with a goal of staying within a modest budget. The amazing thing is that it has taken us a leisurely ten days to get here, something that might have taken early travelers months depending on their route, and a year or more to actually reach the Klondike. But more of history once we reach Whitehorse and Skagway.<br />
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By early evening we reached the Teslin Bridge and traveled to the Teslin Lake Yukon Government Campground where camping fees were $12 CDN for dry camping, providing comfortable campsites on gravel roads and clean restrooms. Not as upscale as the BC Provincial Parks, but more than adequate and very welcome for the price.<br />
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Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556773214054973183.post-37709731957932588012010-06-26T20:44:00.000-07:002013-05-05T19:56:45.399-07:00Twilight Zone North<div style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: #222222; font-family: verdana, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: center;">
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Light lingers ever longer in the North as we drive the Adventure Highway</div>
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In a few weeks time we sleep as the orchestra plays its many variations</div>
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During the day we seek out roads, lakes and rivers that follow Scenic Byways</div>
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Never to forget our days and nights on Boya Lake amid God's creations.</div>
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By ageless kayak we search the land of yesterday today</div>
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To follow a path of timeless wisdom, heart and light</div>
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I know a lake full of jade and gold this very May</div>
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That entices the stars and planets at its very sight.</div>
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Clouds capture water colors day and muted night swoon</div>
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Appear majestic and serene as sun sets yonder and near</div>
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To the sounds of shrilling loon and silent rising moon<br />
Whispering that life this day is precious and very dear. </div>
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We set to sleep in our home away from home so slow </div>
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Midst the splendor of love and comfort until fall</div>
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Cached by mountains, forests, and golden glow</div>
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To give thanks to the wonder and mystery of it all.</div>
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Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556773214054973183.post-61519878164648879562010-06-26T17:08:00.000-07:002013-05-15T10:22:22.805-07:00The Moose HuntOne of the fun activities to share with my co-pilot when driving along the Cassiar Highway is to look for wildlife. We have a reward system in place for the person who spots the chosen animal of the day. I get a donut at Tim Horton's Restaurants (fortunately we only find one a week) or Nola gets a Trail-Mix cookie. The animal we seek the most is the Moose. It has a special place in my heart and memory bank because of a two week canoe trip fully self-contained, down the Allagash Waterway in Northern Maine about 12 years ago. We traveled from lake to river to lake in our Old Town Tripper canoe, in my opinion one of the finest canoes ever made. It could carry almost anything including folding chairs, a large tent, giant icebox, and enough food for two weeks. Most importantly, it was a ruggedly built, sturdy boat that could navigate up to Class 3 rapids safely as we did on the McKenzie River in Western Oregon, our practice waters for whitewater canoeing when we were a tad younger. The amazing thing about the Allagash was we saw moose seemingly around every bend of the river within 25 feet of the canoe, some that we had to dodge in fear of bumping into them. In total we saw about 30 Moose during the total time on the Waterway.<br />
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Jack Chief had mentioned that he saw a cow and calf moose on one of the islands during the past week. In fact, it seemed that this particular cow moose delivered a calf out there each year over the past two years. That was enough for us! It wasn't long before we were in our kayaks on a moose hunt ready to photograph the slightest movement in the bush. But first a little description of this unique animal that inhabits many of the forests in northern North America. I understand it was even mentioned in Caesar's Gallic Wars which I had to translate during my freshman year in a Jesuit High School where Latin was required two periods a day. I don't recall a moose being mentioned which was a bit surprising since I was required to memorize whole pages of the text in Latin as some form of medieval torture for freshman, or so I thought at the time.<br />
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As we slowly paddled around the islands over the next hour we were listening for any sudden movement or unusual sounds. What I remember is that they are large...no, huge! In fact, the moose is the largest member of the deer family (caribou, deer, elk and moose), about the same size as an adult horse. They weigh about 800 (females) to 1200 pounds (males) or more with a large male found in the Yukon that weighed in at 1800 pounds. As browsers that feed off plants, twigs, and fruit, they consume nearly 10,000 calories a day. Their large body size and long legs enable them to forage in ponds, rivers and lakes during the summer and deep snow in the winter. They reach up to seven feet at the shoulder and have few predators although wolf packs and grizzlies take calves in the spring. They can be a hazard on the highway as they are known to be oblivious to cars and motorhomes and even charge an auto once in a while. Impacts are often fatal for driver and moose as they often land on the windshield and crush the front roof support and occupants. Thus, there are lots of signs on the highways in Canada that suggest drivers slow down and be aware of moose crossings. In general, moose are the most dangerous animal in the wild, attacking more humans than bears and wolves combined. About the time I started to imagine what they could do to our fragile kayaks, I heard movement and galloping sounds along the shore above where we could barely see the outline of a moose. Or...was it a horse?<br />
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Then...Holy Mother! The cow moose jumped out of the brush right in front of my kayak. I wasn't sure if she was about to attack or not but a calf soon followed and we were in a precarious photography heaven!<br />
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Considering I left my good Nikon camera and telephoto lens behind in the motorhome, I was shooting furiously with my pocket Canon trying to capture any form of the moose crossing.<br />
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They were moving from one island to another and we just happened to be in the right spot at the right time. There were no aggressive gestures as we silently treaded water observing their agility and amazing speed going from land to water and back. <br />
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Oh well! Just another extraordinary day on Boya Lake along the Highway to Adventure.Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556773214054973183.post-50991082188419594352010-06-25T21:30:00.000-07:002010-06-25T21:30:15.180-07:00Jack Chief of Boya LakeStaying on the Cassiar Highway towards Alaska, we drove to Boya Lake Provincial Park as our next destination, about 45 miles south of the British Columbia -Yukon border on May 29th, nine days after crossing into Canada. I love this slow life to adventure! We rarely drive more than four hours a day and aim to keep the speed to 50 miles an hour. This helps with fuel economy but most importantly allows us to observe wildlife and the spectacular scenery along the way.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>We had heard that Boya Lake was very special not only for its colorful setting but as one of the finest kayak and canoe lakes in this part of BC. We weren't disappointed! As we walked around to search for a camping site, we found lake views that were breathtaking with a background of dark green forests and distant mountains reflected on the turquoise waters.<br />
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My wife and I constantly kidded each other. These were our front and back yards. No mowing of grass, no cabins or houses to keep up, no gutters to clean, no snow to plow. And, we practically had the lake to ourselves. Our only problem was to select the best campsite. Geez! What a challenge!<br />
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The campsites were pristine and I wondered who took care of these places in the middle of nowhere next to a highway close to the Yukon Territory. We finally selected our home space where we would settle for the next four days.<br />
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The weather was warmer than expected with few bugs much to our surprise, evidently due to a dry, early spring with temperatures in the 60's. It didn't take much nudging to take over the breakfast duties the next morning and prepare an outdoor feast on our new lake front property.<br />
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It was during this time that we met the caretaker of the park and our first opportunity to talk with Jack Chief, born and raised in this northern part of BC, an Athapaskan Indian who was a member of the Kasha tribe, belonging to the First Nation Peoples of Canada.<br />
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Over the next few days Jack would stop and share his background with us in answer to my many questions of his life in the North. The Kasha belong to the indigenous peoples of Alaska and Northwestern Canada, part of the Athapaskan population who live in the interior where there is an abundance of fish and wildlife in the many streams, rivers, lakes, dense forests, and lofty mountains especially during the long days of light in the summer months. They were originally a subsistence, hunting-gathering, semi-nomadic people living primarily off the land in harmony with the seasons, following the animal migrations for food and clothing. His ancestors originally traveled across the Bering land bridge from Asia that connected Alaska and Siberia some 18,000 years ago. They had their first contact with Europeans in the 1820's with trappers of the Hudson Bay Company, followed by gold prospectors in the 1890's, and the Roman Catholic Missionaries of the 1920's. Finally, the Alaska Highway Construction crews and the US Army advanced in 1942 and in the process changed their lives forever. In 1977, there were 750 members of the Kasha tribe in Northern British Columbia.<br />
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From what I recall, Jack Chief originally lived with his clan of parents, siblings, and extended family members, was taught to fish and hunt in the same waters and lands where he works today as an independent contractor for the Provincial Parks. He was sent away to Catholic Boarding School for eight years as a young boy. There he was taught the ways of the white man as part of the cultural integration movement into Canadian mainstream life. This was similar to the steps taken with Native Americans by the US Government. Although things improved during the 1950's as the Canadian Government expanded social services and started to recognize the needs of the Aboriginal population, Jack, like many of his fellow tribal members, was abused in school, become an alcoholic for many years, and suffered through a very difficult period of life. A gentle, soft-spoken man, he was about my own age in his early seventies, who has been free of alcohol since he was in his fifties. With a wide grin, he said "I finally realized how to work in the white man's society. I am happy now."Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556773214054973183.post-42986064698771334382010-06-16T19:58:00.000-07:002010-06-16T19:58:03.435-07:00The Germans are coming, the Germans are coming!After a delightful four days and three nights at <span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="-webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-color: yellow; background-image: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial;">Meziadin</span>, we reluctantly headed north once again along the <span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="-webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-color: yellow; background-image: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial;">Cassiar</span> Highway. It turns out that we both wanted to stay longer and explore more of the lake and I could have spent another three days just fly fishing. We thought that we needed a schedule...a plan...a goal. But in fact, we needed none. We had lived by goal setting for so many years that one forgets that life is not a goal, a peak to conquer, or fortune to make. Here on the Slow Road to Adventure, it was just to experience and participate and share in the wonder of it all. And to give thanks for each special moment. It was a wake-up call as we decided to throw off any time limits with or without an itinerary. We had a good one provided by Pete Reed, Wagon Master of the Lazy Daze NW group, but we realized that the group thing would not work for us. We wanted to slow down even more and catch each precious moment of life here in the North Country. So we moved the return dates from mid-July past August into September or whenever, maybe until the snow started falling. We were both hooked!<br />
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I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. My great grandparents are from Toulouse, France, who immigrated to Quebec, Canada. And, my grandparents on both sides were from Quebec who eventually crossed the border into Maine to start new lives; so the French Canadian influence has always been strong upon me. In fact my first schooling was at a French Catholic boarding school where half the classes were taught in French and the others in English by the Sisters of Mercy. I wanted to spend a great deal of time in Canada.<br />
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At nearly every campground and many towns along the way, we were intrigued that most travelers on the road with us were German, Swiss, or Dutch. A few Americans, a handful of Canadians, and mostly Europeans. Especially the Germans who were on vacation and outnumbered other travelers 10 to 1. They were crazy for BC and the Yukon. We met some who had travelled here each summer for 20 years by camper. They return home each fall dutifully back to their families, but as one old timer said to us in broken English, "My heart is in the Yukon." I find it interesting that the original Alaska Highway or "Alcan" (a military acronym for the Alaska-Canada Highway) as noted in "The Milepost", was started in March 1942 by the American military and completed a little over eight months later in October as an important part of the war effort and a strategic necessity.<br />
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As we entered <span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="-webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-color: yellow; background-image: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial;">Kinaskan</span> <span class="goog-spellcheck-word" goog-spell-original="Provinical">Provincial</span> Park, we camped next to a couple our age from Switzerland who were travelling with another younger couple originally from East Germany. The Swiss couple were especially curious about us and our lifestyle asking questions about how much money we received in retirement, Social Security payments, and the cost of life on the road. We compared notes and surprisingly, our government retirement benefits were similar. They had recently purchased a camper and truck in Alberta and bought an inflatable raft with electric motor to fish the lakes along the way. As he talked to me about the local fishing for Rainbow Trout, I couldn't resist the temptation. I talked him into taking me along and soon we were trolling for the famous rainbows of Kinaskan Lake.<br />
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Fishing and especially hunting is expensive business in Europe beyond the financial means of most citizens. Johan was enjoying himself immensely as we caught some rainbow trout, again near the inlets of feeder streams. We made a date for early the next morning as well and he was able to take four beautiful and tasty trout with him on his way north.<br />
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It was great fun to share our stay on Kinaskan Lake with Johan and Marisa of Switzerland ...<br />
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as well as ... Derek and Kristen of Germany.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg659-wracs6Lvw1x-MVoBQvQ5ATuNt7xOu7LOb_gQyRmECE5-SkpJVrVtwEJnhZNu_6K2gkKZorjuWg3L8J4KgvXtKQzqxWLDq4HZaUj25haSunRv2ygoKWZXSklwjDSUQcu0yFkdSXzA/s1600/IMG_0501.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg659-wracs6Lvw1x-MVoBQvQ5ATuNt7xOu7LOb_gQyRmECE5-SkpJVrVtwEJnhZNu_6K2gkKZorjuWg3L8J4KgvXtKQzqxWLDq4HZaUj25haSunRv2ygoKWZXSklwjDSUQcu0yFkdSXzA/s320/IMG_0501.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556773214054973183.post-63654470431928256422010-06-16T17:35:00.000-07:002010-06-16T17:35:21.570-07:00Hello Dolly!One of the big surprises as we entered Meziadin PP was to view another six or so Lazy Daze motorhomes camped around one section of the lake. We hadn't seen anyone since our rally near Port Townsend on May 16-18 of about 30 Lazy Dazes from all over the Northwest. Eight would head for Alaska, five by ferry and three by road. The idea was to hook up somewhere along the Cassiar Highway, so we were thrilled to see our small group once again ... just in time for a celebration potluck. The big hit for the evening were the tales and taste treats of baked Dolly Varden that were caught by Tony and cooked by Michelle. Turned out that Tony hired a guide who was the local camp contractor for Meziadin PP and doubled as a fishing guide. After an initial run to the end of the lake in a comfortable motorboat, Tony cast a spinning lure into a feeder stream and practically had a Dolly on the line within minutes, the largest going for nearly five pounds. All twelve of us dined on two of his keepers.<br />
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So what in the heck is a Dolly Varden? Good question, as I had never even seen one before in my life much less caught one! The good book says that "Dolly Varden Trout is a subspecies of anadromous fish in the salmon family and is technically a char." OK? Is it a trout...salmon...or char? Well, it's in the family of <i>Salmonidae</i> so it can't be all bad except that it loves to feed on salmon eggs. Yikes! It's a cannibal! Sounds terrible except that many fish like to feed on salmon eggs and each other for that matter. And humans like to feed on them! They range from Puget Sound to Alaska in rivers, streams and lakes. In the spring they tend to be olive green on their back and shade to white on the belly. Then in the late summer towards spawning season they turn to a foxy red near the lower sides and belly....better to snare you with my dear! <br />
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The word was out that the action at Meziadin lake was hot!!! Campers were coming in with motor boats, lots of gear, and tales to tell. The challenge was on! And by the second day I was in my solo Pack Canoe (33 pounds) scouting for feeder streams as potential fishing holes. After watching others on the lake catch some big ones on lures in the morning, I paddled way over to the other side of the lake to three feeder streams and bingo! I hit the jackpot. First cast produced a near three pounder. Second cast a near five pounder. <br />
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</div>Not bad for the first try...one that weighed in at two pounds ten ounces followed by one of four pounds eleven ounces. The lucky charms were a Len Thompson Diamondback Spoon (yellow with red diamonds pattern) and a Blue Fox Super Vibrax spinning lure. Our neighbor next to us who had fished these waters for over five years complimented me by saying that was the biggest he had seen during that whole period. That is, until the next day, and he produced a real five pounder. My short claim to Canadian angling fame! <br />
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Using a new, portable Coleman stove with grill and burner (and extra griddle), I had planned to cook lots of fish on the trip away from the motorhome kitchen to keep the fish odors from lingering in our rig for days. It worked like a charm as we had filets for several days and David's fish chowder (with added shrimp, clams, and Dolly Varden) for the next week. And fish left over for the freezer. In fact, most of my fishing neighbors would save a week's worth of limits, and can the fish for the winter using a pressure cooker so that even the bones were tender. Life is good here in the Far North!Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556773214054973183.post-21960938970614161582010-06-16T13:10:00.000-07:002010-06-16T13:10:43.597-07:00Meziadin Lake Provincial Park<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
It seems we are leaving the urban world behind as we drive farther north in British Columbia leaving the city of Prince George far behind as we navigate Route 37, The Cassiar Highway. It's taken a few days to get the mindless chatter out of my head from Cable TV, Talk Radio, and even the NY Times, Washington Post, and the Oregonian warning of terrorism alerts, bank crises, company bankruptcies, fiscal disasters on the horizon, and the endless stories of immigration and local crime. Our only connection to the outer world is now through occasional use of Satellite Radio, Skype and the Internet. Our TV antenna is blocked by one of our kayaks on top of the RV and our evening entertainment comes from evening walks, DVD's, music, reading, and games. I can feel the ordinary stress of city living fade away into the background as we focus on the moment and enter the realm of Provincial Parks. <br />
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British Columbia will celebrate its centennial next year in commemoration of its first Provincial Park that was established in 1911. They are similar to the best of our State Parks often situated adjacent to a lake or river for breathtaking views. Meziadin Lake PP is no exception. The view alone was worth the $16 fee for a backdrop that presented a panorama of Meziadin Lake, waterfalls, lush green forests, and snow covered mountains. Our dry camping site provided a picnic table and fire pit with separate toilet and water facilities. Our electric is provided by two solar panels on top of "Dorothy" as we affectionately call our motorhome, and a generator if we need it. We were in "outdoor" heaven! <br />
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It wasn't long before we had the kayaks and canoe down and we were exploring what would become our home surroundings for the next few days as the sun, clouds and rain swapped places to give us an ever changing series of colorful vistas.<br />
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What a way to end a spectacular day and enter the world of the Far North.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556773214054973183.post-11173488100032888042010-06-11T19:19:00.000-07:002010-06-11T19:19:40.694-07:00The World's Largest Fly RodDuring the initial days on the road after crossing the border at Sumas, WA, we travelled through Hope, Cache Creek, Williams Lake, Quesnel, and Prince George, B.C. as described by my wife Nola in her separate blog<b>, "Taking the High Road."</b> The weather was great, the scenery magnificent, and the people along the way, warm and friendly. Then...in the little town of Houston, I found a hidden treasure...well, not so hidden. The world's largest fly rod. Wowzee! I knew I was entering paradise.<br />
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Thanks to Helga and Roy Byman, we have the opportunity to gaze upon this work of art and let the imagination guide the direction to the next phase of our trip. Lakes, rivers, and streams lay directly ahead of us.<br />
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The only problem in beautiful British Columbia is how to select what would be the favorite haunts of Issac Walton. There are so many possibilities! And, with good luck they are directly ahead. After four long days of driving I am ready to explore the forests and streams.<br />
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I've got a date with Dolly Varden on Meziadin Lake in Meziadin Provincial Park.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556773214054973183.post-77190065218317601882010-06-06T18:55:00.000-07:002013-05-05T19:43:18.948-07:00Taking The Slow Road To AlaskaThree years ago, my wife and I completed our last teaching assignment overseas, bought a Lazy Daze, Class C Motorhome, and started exploring the USA and Canada at our leisure. We had been full-timing when we returned to Eugene, Oregon, this past fall and decided to spend the winter in a stick-house to test out whether we wanted to settle down or continue on the road. Using the home of friends who wintered in Hawaii, it took us about a month to realize that we missed the RV lifestyle. Through the rains and dark days of winter, it gave us an opportunity to modify and upgrade our moving home, and prepare for life on the road once again, this time to explore Alaska and the North Country.<br />
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A few days ago we arrived in Whitehorse, capital of the Yukon Territory, and it seemed the right time to share our adventures with friends and family, active and armchair travelers, in two separate but related blogs: Taking The High Road (by my wife Nola), and Highway to Adventure by yours truly. We invite you to join us along the way and share our lifestyle of excitement, awe and adventure.Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556773214054973183.post-75650000752628425632010-06-05T17:32:00.000-07:002013-02-11T13:42:51.566-08:00North to Alaska<br />Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01320406093630555399noreply@blogger.com0