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Position: 58°46’49.9″N 130°06’00.3″W
The last time I visited Alaska was 12 years ago. That’s when I rode there on my motorcycle with my buddy Sledge (see photo). I learned a lot on that trip and looked forward to revisiting many of the places we’d seen back then. I was keen to learn what had changed and what hadn’t.
From anywhere in the lower 48, once you’re past Vancouver, BC, there are only two roads north towards Alaska. Going up almost everyone takes the Stewart-Cassiar highway. I suppose if you’re heading in from east of the Rocky Mountains, then you might take the only other route north, highway 97. But coming from the south, most folks cross the border near Abbotsford or Osoyoos and pick up Highway 1 as far as Cache Creek. They then take 97 to Prince George and turn west on Highway 16 (the Yellowhead) as far as Kitwanga where you turn right and head north on Highway 37 (the Stewart-Cassiar).
Spreading Out
Given the number of square miles that British Columbia covers, that there are so few roads tells you how sparsely populated the territory is. Once north of Prince George everything thins out. Gas stations, accommodation, coffee shops, and grocery stores are all reduced to the point a little forward planning becomes necessary. Cellular phone service becomes patchy (at best) and your options for travel information more limited.
Downloading Google maps for offline use helps. But the maps don’t retain useful information like gas prices. For around $45US you can buy the Milepost travel planner. This paperback book provides a mile-by-mile compendium of absolutely anything you might want to know about your journey. If, like us, you’re determined to live the in 21st century, you can buy a Starlink mini satellite receiver and mount it on your sunroof for high-speed internet access. We purchased a Milepost as a back-up in any case and never opened it. If you’re heading to Alaska anytime soon let us know. We’ll happily give you our copy.
Tires
The distances are vast. Driving from Portland, OR, to Anchorage, AK, you cover about 2,500 miles. That’s the same as driving from Portland to Boston. As gas stations thin out, we decided to never let the gas tank get below a quarter full. In preparation for the journey, we packed in a few essentials like a tire repair kit and a new spare (one of those silly donut tires, but that’s all the space our car Molly the Murano had available). Molly’s tires were fairly new and had less than 10,000 miles on them. Having driven across Mongolia on new-ish tires I was confident Molly’s would make it through the gravel roads without issue. Nevertheless, I packed in a can of Fix-a-Flat and a small compressor.
There’s nothing like redundant systems to ensure your main points of failure don’t test you. Molly also had an oil change before we left. With a Canadian eSIM in my cellphone, satellite internet on board, and a bright orange windbreaker for flagging down other motorists, I figured we wouldn’t be stranded for long. (I didn’t dwell long on the potential costs of rescue in the wilderness.) Laden with camping gear and emergency rations, we could have camped by the side of the road for a week in an emergency. After all those preparations, it was time to go.
Sumas
Just south of the city of Abbotsford, BC, is the US border crossing at Sumas. Normally, crossing into Canada takes a few minutes of routine questions from Canadian customs. In the past, the Canadian officers have been unfailingly pleasant and polite. This time, however, the officer was so brusque it felt like we were crossing back into the United States. He asked where we were heading? Alaska. How long will you be in Canada? About 10 days. It only takes 48 hours to drive to the Alaskan border, you know. We did know, but we were planning on taking our time and doing some camping along the way. Do you have reservations for camping? No, our habit is to do a bare minimum of forward planning. It adds to the excitement of the adventure. Any guns? Nope. Drugs? Nope. Alcohol? A bottle of gin and a bottle of wine. Any fruit? Nope. As we drove away, we agreed that a renewed era of détente with our northern cousins couldn’t come fast enough.
Intents Living
To keep costs down, our plan was to camp for at least 60-70% of the time. That meant at least four nights under canvas for every two to three nights in accommodations. Fortunately, the Taj-mah-tent we used for our July 2018 cross-USA road trip was in our storage unit, along with several smaller, less comfortable alternatives. Our Taj-mah-tent is a 10-person quick setup affair from Walmart – a fine source for cheap camping gear. It cost as much as one night in a Motel 6 and has plenty of head and elbow room when the weather or bugs get nasty. A queen-sized inflatable mattress and two collapsible armchairs fit comfortably. That makes it useless for backpacking, but perfect for car camping.
Lac La Hache is about 267 miles from the US border and as far as we wanted to drive that day. Driving east then north from Abbotsford a couple of small fires clouded the valleys, giving the trees the impression they were shrouded in nothing more deadly than a fine mist. A little further west several large fires were wreaking environmental chaos and would continue doing so for the next six weeks.
Lac La Hache
British Columbia has many fine campgrounds. They’re reasonably priced at $18CDN a night. Even with a $20CDN surcharge for out-of-province visitors, the cost is reasonable. This park was clean and well laid out with plenty of elbow room between the sites. The camp host even preferred credit to cash. Seeing as we were off-grid with no cell reception, I asked how they connected to the bank? She said they have a satellite receiver for the park’s use. The US/Canada exchange rate meant we could knock 30% off any price in Canadian dollars, making almost everything appear damned reasonable. The only downside was noise from the occasional truck trundling past on the highway.
Smithers
My first time in Smithers I described it as, “…kind of a happening place, a last stop winter sports/summer artist’s enclave before you hit the wilderness.” Apart from a couple of new brewpubs and a brace of Japanese restaurants, not much has changed. The city elders figured there would be enough traffic to warrant splitting Highway 16 into four lanes through the centre of town. Today that seems optimistic. Even in the height of summer, traffic was sparse. That didn’t stop folks flooding into Smithers Brewing for a pint and late afternoon sunbath. Nearby Hudson Bay Mountain provides several ski and bike rental businesses adequate income. In season $79CDN ($56USD/49Euro) for a day’s skiing is an absolute bargain. You just have to get there and find a place to sleep.
Having kicked off our trip with two nights camping in the North Cascades and then another in Lac La Hache, we opted for a night in the Fireweed Motel. Like many northern hotels, the Fireweed retains an old school motel vibe with window air conditioners and simple, practical furnishings. A half dozen motorcycles in the car park gave us an indication of how popular a stop in Smithers remains for two-wheeling grey beards. That much hasn’t changed.
Dease Lake
The following day we opted for a long day’s drive and landed at Sawmill Point recreation site on the north end of Dease Lake. The little town of Dease Lake is a popular refuelling point. Even though Sawmill Point is a maintained site, it was free to camp there. The campground is down a steep, potholed road and several sites sit directly on the lake. Others sit back a few yards in the thick of the pine trees. A steady breeze blew most of the bugs away. As soon as camp was set up, we carried our folding armchairs down to the shore and drank in the sunset over a gin and tonic. A stream burbled happily next to us and only added verisimilitude to the idyl.
My earlier trip north had passed through areas of extreme bugginess. Due to the exposed nature of motorcycle riding, my memories of getting splattered were slightly traumatic. This time Molly’s grill and windscreen took most of the carnage. Carol is a mosquito magnet. That meant she took all the punishment while I escaped almost unscathed. When we’re camping together, I rarely use DEET or other repellents. (Clearly, you’re naturally repellent enough. – ed.)
Whitehorse
Perhaps driven by a subliminal suggestion by the Canadian border guard, we pressed on towards Whitehorse, the capital of the Yukon Territories, 610kms distant. Sharing the driving and listening to an instalment of Mick Heron’s MI5 series, Slow Horses, helped time and miles pass more quickly. The valleys and mountains of British Columbia’s Northern Rockies give way to lower, rolling hills in the Yukon. The territory looks like glaciers sanded off all the sharp edges and plopped trees down where rocky outcroppings once sat. The change in topography is disorientingly quick.
Outwardly, not much has changed in Whitehorse over the past 12 years. From what we could tell the city retains its, “…orderly streets, attractive women, handsome men, coffee shops, good restaurants, microbreweries, and the lowest air pollution of any city in the world.” The air quality index has suffered a bit in the past few years due to seasonal wildfires, but it still ranks in the top 10 globally. With a little digging I learned that the population of the Yukon had increased by about 15,000 souls, 5,000 of whom located themselves in Whitehorse.
This Doesn’t Blow, It Sucks
Flogging our stated camping to accommodation metric, we opted for an Airbnb on the outskirts of town. As we pulled into the driveway, we commented on how well Molly was performing. Naturally, we spoke too soon. Starting her up for an exploratory spin around town, an almighty clattering came out of the air conditioning system. No air blew out of the vents, and the sound grew worse when I adjusted the fan speed higher. I immediately suspected the blower motor. Talking with our host, Joel, he agreed with my diagnosis. He said it’s a common point of failure in the cold north where heaters are pushed to their limits in winter. He loaned me a bag of tools to deal with the problem.
In anticipation of complete blower motor failure, we scoured the city for a replacement. The Nissan dealer said there weren’t any in the Yukon Territory and perhaps none in the whole of Canada. Amazon wouldn’t have a replacement for at least five days. Fortunately, NAPA Auto Parts came through with the last motor for thousands of miles around. The next step was watching a YouTube video on disassembly and repair. That done I got on my knees and started unscrewing the glovebox. It came out smoothly. Just like in the video. Something that almost never happens.
Worst Hamster Wheel in History
What I found was a dead mouse in the blades of the fan. Clearly, the little monster had put the system off balance and spun its brains out at the same time. With mixed feelings I bagged the dead critter and put things back together. Sad for the mouse, but glad that the cause was so obvious. Naturally, nothing happened when I tested the fan.
After years on the boat, I learned when an electrical system fails the chances of it being a wiring or fuse fault is high and the first place to look. Ploughing through the Nissan manual, I discovered the Murano has fuses in three locations. Finally unearthing the one I needed it was indeed blown. Fortunately, we had a spare fuse and once installed the fan spun up and air once again flowed quietly through the car. NAPA took the unused blower motor back without hesitation, and we were in business.
Coming up…
That’s enough for this week. Next week we’ll explore the Klondike Gold Rush, re-entering the United States, and the complexities of camping in America.
