The Alaska Highway
When you hear the words: Alaska Highway—What do you envision?
For some it is the ultimate vision of escaping from it all (whatever it all is): The heading out into the great unknown of a rugged wilderness; A numero uno bucket list item; or just a phenomenal road trip. How about the fulfillment of a dream? For me, it was the allure and the constant whisper saying “C’mon Bobby, what are you waiting for? Let’s Go!”
I get Goosebumps just thinking about it. You gotta be excited. C‘mon we are talking about the Alaska Highway! This isn’t a Sunday drive to get a burger and a milkshake. Alaska conjures up visions of adrenalin rushes, danger, fun, memories, and heart-pounding adventure. I mean seriously, how many people do you know who have driven the Alaska Highway?
Can’t you just see it in your mind: snow, biting cold, Gold Rushes, giant mosquitoes, survival, and the rugged Yukon? Don’t you envision Grizzlies, Wolves, Jumping Wild Salmon, Glaciers, Dog Sleds, and Huskies? Do you see the rugged hombres and women who ventured north into the great unknown, looking for gold and a better life?
I had thought about it for years. C’mon Bobby is this another of your pipe-dreams? I wasn’t getting any younger and was this a senior’s dream? A cocktail party conversation, a thought, or are you really going to do it? Quit BSing yourself. I decided I was going to do it–no if and or butts. And I was going to do it in celebration of my 70th birthday.
A little background. The Alaska Highway, originally known as the Alcan Highway, was a joint venture between Canada and the United States. After years of dancing around it, WWII made it happen. It was built by the Army Corps of Engineers—one of my alma maters. It begins in Dawson Creek, British Columbia (milepost 0) and ends in Delta Junction, Alaska (milepost 1422).
The portion of the Highway covered here is from Dawson Creek, Route 97 in British Columbia, to Whitehorse, Rt. #1 in the Yukon-approximately 900 miles. While there are places to visit and things to see, it is your feelings, your surroundings and the actual journey that are the heart of this adventure whether it be on a tour, a car, an RV, backpacking, bicycling or walking. It’s the journey. It’s the experience-live it. North to Alaska says it best: ” It is the Ultimate Road Trip.”
A quick cautionary note, be aware that this is a sparsely populated area. What is available along the route can be seen at the Milepost Web Site listed below. Be aware of your gas tank. Please see the end of this article for some names of the places of interest along the route.
“Since 1949 the bible of North Country Travel” https://www.themilepost.com/highways/alaska-highway/ http://www.northtoalaska.com
Dawson Creek: Zeb and I are here. Here is where “The Alaska Highway” begins. Yeah, Baby. Here is Dawson Creek, British Columbia, Canada. Un-freakin-believable. We have been on our bikes for a couple of weeks, over 4,000 miles. Pinch yourself. Yeah for real. You have to take some pictures and enjoy the moment. It doesn’t get any better than this. You are here with your son–thousands of miles from home–all done on motorcycles and in the wind, rain, and cold. Of course, there are a few thousand miles to go and more elements to endure.
We have passed through rugged portions of the Northern U.S.; Glacier, Road to the Sun, Teddy Roosevelt NP, Canadian Rockies—Banff, Jasper, Willmore and yet it feels like the real adventure is about to begin. Just seeing the Signage: “The Alaska Highway” sends chills up my spine. Pretty cool. You know you aren’t in Kansas anymore Dorothy
I mean this is it. The first and only time we had previously seen a road sign using the word Alaska had been in Hinton, Alberta on Canada Day, July 1st. It was the road sign where we turned left, due North, coming out of Jasper National Park
After visiting the Alaska Highway House in Dawson Creek and spending some time on “I was there” pictures in front of that magnificent Mile Marker Zero sign we head out on the Highway. We had met a fellow rider in Dawson Creek, a Californian heading to Prudhoe Bay. He explained one of the great original bridges on the highway was down the road about 20 klics(12miles). Kiskatinaw Bridge here we come.
Heading down a dip, all of a sudden there is one of the coolest bridges imaginable. An engineering marvel. A wooden truss bridge constructed over the Peace River. It was the first wooden bridge to be built with a curve in Canada. The curve combined with the plank riding surface makes it a must stop or pictures.
http://www.tourismdawsoncreek.com/visitor/do/historic-attractions/alaska-highway-house http://ouralaskahighway.com/?portfolio_item=historic-kiskatinaw-bridge
On a beautiful sunny day, we took some bike pictures. Pretty kool stuff. We sat in the sun, ate some lunch, had some black licorice treats, napped and just laid back. We knew what lay ahead–long hauls on pine laden wilderness roads.
A stroke of luck happened here. I couldn’t find my phone. Today’s phones with their apps, maps, email, camera, video are a mandatory inclusion on any trip. I had looked in my tank bag, pockets, jackets, et al and finally, when I had given up and was going to backtrack, there it was laying on a luggage bag. That tells you how smooth a 1972 R75/5 BMW rides.
Aside note: I had bought my R75 new in Germany while stationed there. I bought it because it had a drive shaft and a smooth ride. When you know you will be riding through backward communist countries and the Middle East in 1973; you want the best in reliability. For touring, in the 70s, it didn’t get any better than the R75.
As we headed out, I kept reminding myself, this portion of the Highway is all about the journey. You absorb the surroundings of raw, unspoiled nature. The trip from Dawson Creek to Whitehorse is not about Museum stops; it is about the Great Outdoors. Absorbing what you see. And continually reflecting, with a great big grin, that you are on the road to Alaska-The Last Frontier.
I am not going to sugarcoat it, by this time I have developed an almost obsessive fear of loose gravel upending my bike. My front end floats at times. The bikes load is heavier towards the rear, including my lard-butt. Compounding that fear is the goal of the entire trip, getting to Alaska. I don’t want to blow it. I don’t want to embarrass my son or myself.
Consequently, it is on this section of highway that a changing of the guard begins taking place. On Zeb and my motorcycle journeys, to this point, I have been pretty much the leader. On this stretch of road, it begins to change. I look to him more and more on leading and direction. It does help that he has updated his GPS, which we will rely on from here on out. It also helps that I trust him completely and thankful he is along.
I haven’t mentioned it, but this trip is also about fishing. We haven’t fished since our days in Calgary floating the Bow River. This part of the trip from Dawson Creek to Whitehorse should get provide us with some pristine streams.
We stop for the night at the Sikanni River Campground. It is a pretty barren piece of ground along the Sikanni Chief River with the remnants of an original Highway Bridge. There aren’t a lot of options of where to stay on this stretch of road. The fishing in the river is like most campground areas, nonexistent for fish. I manage to catch a little chub like fish.
Keep in mind the trip from Dawson Creek to Whitehorse is about 1500 Kilometers. 900 miles. If you are in a car—you can hustle. Same with an RV. But if you are on a bike, and not a young stud trying to make miles, but rather an old soul on a journey, you take your time. I had emphasized to Zeb way back, in the beginning; this was a journey, not a rush. We wanted to see and absorb. It wasn’t an iron butt ride.
Sikanni Chief to Toad River: This is the region of the Northern Rocky Mountain Provincial Park. We will pass through Summit Pass (elev. 4,250 feet/1,295m) the highest point on the Highway. It is pure Wilderness. On a bike, you will deal with gravel, steepness, dirt, and wind. Take a look at Google Earth. It’s rugged. This was a tenuous country for me.
Of course, on just about the steepest, gravel heavy portion heading into Toad River, a few young studs, up from Mexico on GS bikes, go flying by. We meet them later, nice kids. They can’t believe I am doing this on the R75 loaded up.
Here thought processes rattle around in my mind. You are in the middle of nowhere. What if something happens when you are this close to Alaska-the goal. It drives me. It can also inhibit you.
We spend the night at the Toad River campground surrounded by multiple beaver houses. It is a nice place to stop. We set up the tent and hustle to fish the Toad River. While we did see our first moose across the road, we got caught in a violent cloudburst without our rain gear. We hustle back for the tent-our home-soaked to the bone.
Toad River to Watson Lake: July 4th is one memorable day. To mention a few: Great vistas, cool bridge, a soak at Liard Hot Springs, a great buffalo burger, Muncho Lake-lots of pictures, a couple buffalo on-road who from a distance look like New Orleans mardi gras giants on stilts. While it is long day-both daylight and journey—it is memorable. We enter the Yukon Territory—Sgt. Preston and Yukon King territory. We see Watson Lake and its thousands of signs posted by Highway travelers. I could write an article on this day alone. Good stuff.
Watson Lake to Whitehorse: July 5th, we travel some spectacular country. We make a mistake and pass up some beautiful trout water. I still kick myself for that, but Whitehorse and the Top of the World highway into Alaska are beckoning. We drive along some dynamic Vista’s. That afternoon we hit Whitehorse. I spring for a room—laughingly we observe no AC in rooms here. Ah, we suck it up and go get a hot meal and a couple of drinks. It has been one dynamic week.
This is where we will leave the Alaska Hwy until we pick it up again in Tuk after crossing the Top of the World Highway into Alaska. Zeb will traverse the portion skipped on his way to Vancouver. He will also fish some of that water we passed.
The Alaska Highway—A thought or thoughts. Zeb and I had traversed some rugged highway. We had seen and absorbed some sheer raw beauty. We had been through Dawson Creek, Ft.St.John, Pink Mountain, Sikanni Chief, Ft. Nelson, Toad River Post, Muncho Lake, Liard River, Watson Lake, and finally Whitehorse—Capital of the Yukon.
It says a lot when you can spend 24/7 with your son, still like him(you will always love him), in a part of the country where you rely on each other totally. That together you get to share some of the most unspoiled, raw landscape to be had on the planet. And on a motorcycle dealing with the elements.
Realistically I had doubts about ever making this journey. I had thrown myself into planning and committing to it. I had to. Those thoughts of getting too old to do these types of things were invading my brain. If I didn’t fight them off I would vegetate and die. While eventually, this trip would rekindle a fire in my soul, I at first suffered some depression on returning, as I thought maybe this was my last adventure. I did discover it was my last adventure, until the next one. It made me realize that at ages when you thought your parents were old, you can still do some spectacular things.
I also believed it would be my only trip up this way. But I have to say, after reliving this portion of the journey, I will go back if able. It is a wonder to behold.
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