Finding Paradise in the North

This caribou wanders up the side of the hill, alongside our RV. He couldn't decide about the danger of crossing the highway.

Two nights.... two of the prettiest campgrounds we've ever stayed in. The town of Sikanni Chief (it's so small you pass it without noticing it exists) has a river at the bottom of a terrifying down-spiral of highway. We were in 2nd gear and braking hard all the way down. When we pulled into Sikanni River RV Park and got out to register, there was a nasty smell of burning brake lining issuing forth from all four wheels.
The lady at check-in told us she was full but we were welcome to pull into a dry-camping site that was right alongside the river. We checked it out and decided it was the best site in the whole park. The soothing ripple of running water lulled us in the evening. We ran our generator for 90 minutes so we could watch a movie. But the red streaks of the setting sun still lingered in the sky at 11 at night.
There was large animal scat among the river stones and we surmised it was elk. Jo was convinced it would show up in the early morning and she checked at 4 a.m. But no. So we rolled on out at 8 in the morning and began climbing on the loneliest road in the world, it seems. There are no people here, except for gas line workers. They seemed to be housed in deadly mobile home blocks that are jammed together in little clusters every 40 or 50 miles.
Half an hour into our journey, we came across a huge male moose, ambling across the highway. We pulled over to let him pass and, as we moved along, we came to his mate who had been hit and killed about 100 yards up the road. After morning tea break, we came alongside a healthy female elk. She eyed us casually, then wandered into the spruce and balsam trrees at the side of the road.
We arrived in the town of Fort Nelson at 11 on Sunday morning. Last chance to get gas for 355 kilometers, we were warned by a road sign. We stopped and paid $1.239 a liter – that's only 23 percent more than in Hope. It is so remote up here that folks can charge anything they like for anything.
Onward. Jo chose Summit Lake Provincial Park as our stop for the night. What a great choice it is. We are coming through the northern edge of the Canadian Rockies now and we are parked in an Alpine meadow, on the shore of an emerald green lake. Our backdrop is the Rocky Mountain range, snow-covered and jagged. I maneuvered the RV so our million dollar view is visible through the front and side windows. It is nothing short of breath-taking. The weather is sunny, but in a matter of five minutes it changes to rain in gusty wind. Then it is back to bright sun again. Later, as we sat in the cozy RV, the mountains disappeared and we were hit by sleet.
When the provincial parks lady came by to pick up our $16 for the campground site, she told us she has never known such winds to blow up at Summit Lake. Now she tells us. She did say she saw lynx spoor the other morning and she has been bothered by lots of bear. She also pointed out a beaver house 200 yards away from us. She said she is having a terrible job breaking up his dam every few days because it is causing the lake to rise.
Our rig just passed the 55,000-mile mark on its odometer. When we bought it just over three years back, it only had 29,600 miles on the clock. So I think we are getting some pretty good use of our home on wheels.

Monday, June 14
We awoke to howling winds and wondered if it was smart to head on. But we rationalized that the winds were higher because we were so high – 4,377 feet. They would be less in the valley. And so we set off.
This proved to be the case and it didn't take long for us to forget the crisp outside air when we came upon out first Stone Sheep. These are peculiar to northern British Columbia and the Yukon. They have huge eyes and are powerfully built. They showed no fear as we pulled up alongside them on the highway. They seemed more interested in sucking the salts or other minerals from the asphalt.
A few miles farther on we came upon our first caribou – a handsome fellow with a gorgeous rack. He seemed to want to cross the road but was too nervous to make the trip over until after we passed him by.
We crossed Macdonald's Creek, named after a Cree Indian who helped the Corps of Engineers figure out the best route for the Alaska Highway in these parts. Mountains still towered above us to the right and left and we marveled at the endless vistas and beauty all about. We fairly whooped with delights as we approached Liard Hot Springs and came upon a herd of Buffalo. They were heading south with their calves and passed right alongside our stopped rig while we photographed them. We turned a corner in the road and came upon a ptarmigan mother and her brood of chicks, pecking away at the side of the road.
We arrived in Liard Hot Springs Provincial Park and picked out a site that was level and near the springs. After lunch and a nap, the sun came out and we hiked on a boardwalk to the springs. We changed into our bathing suits and stepped into the 110-degree water. It smelled a little of sulphur – but not bad. We found we could move around in the springs and change the temperature of the water by sitting nearer to a small waterful of cold water. Then, if we wanted to cook a little, we found an underwater bench that allowed us to sit nearer to the bubbling water that was coming up from the earth's mantle. Delicious. We chatted with the other travelers and met a couple of ladies from Yuma, Arizona, and Denver, Colorado, as well as a couple who had driven up, for the first time, from Vancouver. They could not believe the size of their province. It is huge. It seems to be the equivalent distance of driving from Florida to Connecticut. We are very close now to the border of Yukon Territory. That's when we pass the 60th latitude.

(Measurement lesson: 0 degrees is the equator. 90 degrees is the north pole. Each degree of latitude equals 60 miles. Each minute of latitude equals 1 mile. And there are 60 minutes in a degree of latitude. As a result, when we pass 60 degrees of latitude, we are 5 degrees higher in latitude than Edinburgh, Scotland. That means we are 300 miles farther north than that city. New York City is at 40 degrees north latitude, so it is 1,200 miles south of where we are.)

Tuesday, June 15
We passed a brown bear this morning on our way to Watson Lake in Yukon Territory. The road was rough, with lots of frost heaves. In one section, it had been completely torn up by the road crews and we were stopped for 15 minutes while they moved traffic through from the other direction.
Watson Lake's claim to fame – and it really is fame – is the signpost forest that has been erected by RV-ers at the western side of town. There are about 72,000 signs in the forest, mostly with the names and towns of the people who have stopped by and left their mark. Some are poignant, like Cindy Barber's, from Florida: “Lord, please let me get back home.”

John and Eva Wood of Grandby, Texas, on their sign said “Where Jesus is Lord'. We found one special sign: “In Loving memory of Precious, world's most traveled cat and cherished traveling companion 16 years who bailed out on the Alaska Highway Mile Marker 404-422, May 1997. Loved, missed and never to be forgotten.”

We wandered through this wilderness of signs, many of them taken from hometown highways in addition to old license plates from every state. Quite amazing. The forest was started back in 1942 by Carl K. Lindley, a U.S. Army soldier who put up the first sign in 1942.
Later we wandered over to the Northern Lights Centre, where we watched a display of the Aurora Borealis which we won't see in person since it doesn't get dark enough in the summer months. We now have light for 22 hours each day.