Day 16 - The Alaska Highway

The Alaska Highway was built during World War II as a means of connecting mainland USA with Alaska.  This was felt necessary for two reasons; firstly it enabled the shipment of supplies up through Canada into Alaska and over to America's then allies the Russians, via Siberia, and secondly the shipment of troops to protect Alaska and Canada should the Japanese invade via the Alaskan Aleutian Islands (Japan actually did attempt this in 1942, but with no success).  Construction of the 1700 mile road began in March 1942, and was completed by the end of October of the same year, the northern linkup of the road crews being at mile 1202, Beaver Creek (see, there was a point to us staying there).  Interestingly, a lot of the infrastructure developed for the movement of large amounts of people and supplies during the Yukon Gold Rush was also used for the construction of the Alaska Highway.

The section of the Highway that we were due to drive today runs from Beaver Creek to Haines Junction, a distance of 180 miles.  It might have been further in 1942; the Alaska Highway today is over 300 miles shorter than when it was first constructed, as it has been straightened out a lot over the intervening years.  Polly Evans, who wrote the Bradt guide to the Yukon without which this holiday would have been infinitely more impossible to plan, begins her Haines Junction to Beaver Creek section on the Alaska Highway with the words, "Oh you lucky, lucky thing".  That sets an expectation in a man's mind.

It was bright sunshine when we checked out of our basic accommodation at the 1202 Motor Inn (basic it may have been, but I had the best night's sleep there that I've had for the whole holiday so far).  We drove down to the Beaver Creek Visitor Information Centre, where we listened to the two attendants there telling us terrifying bear-encounter stories until we made good our escape.  Heading south down the Alaska Highway we could again see the snow-topped Saint Elias Mountains to our right, marching into the distance as if they were leading to Gondor: with the morning sun shining on them, they were even more spectacular than yesterday.

The road was proving to be an interesting drive; once again a mix of surfaces, sometimes paved and sometimes gravel.  In its Yukon stretch, the Alaska Highway mostly follows the Shakwak Trench, and the eponymous Shakwak Project is an agreement between the US and Canada to maintain this stretch of road... with the resultant construction and variable road surfaces.  It keeps a driver on his toes.

We passed over White River, which wasn't really a river at that point but more of a sandy bed - every year, when the snow melts, this river deposits millions of tons of sediment into the Yukon - and were approaching a bridge before a wide place in the road called Cook's Koidern River Lodge, when something bounded out in front of us.  My first thought, and Sandra's, was that is was a fox or even a wolf, but as we got closer I said, "that's a lynx".  We couldn't get a decent photograph of it other than its backside, but it was obviously a big cat of some sort.  We slowed right down and it cut across the road and into the undergrowth, out of sight.

Still moving slowly, we drove over the bridge and further along the road, but we didn't see the cat again.  Your heart beats faster when you see something like that, especially something you've not seen before.  Your senses come alive, the day seems brighter and more exciting.  And it was in that state that, just a mile or so further along the road, we got our first sighting of Pickhandle Lake.  The bear-story ladies at the Beaver Creek Visitor Centre had told us of a family of ducks at this lake which had taken to approaching visitors in order to be fed on bread.  Um... we're from England, we've been feeding bread to ducks since we were children, it's not something we find exciting any more, and I had no intention of stopping at Pickhandle Lake.

But I just couldn't help myself pulling into the side of the road as the lake came into view.  Maybe we were just lucky with the time of day, the angle of the sun, the lack of breeze to ruffle the surface of the lake, I don't know, but it knocked everything we've seen so far into a cocked hat.  Lake Louise, when I first saw it in 2008, became the benchmark by which I measure the beauty of a view: this easily equalled it, and bettered it in the fact that there were no other people around, just the two of us.  I've used a lot of superlatives over the last few days to try and describe what we've seen in the Yukon, but when, a few minutes later, another vehicle stopped and the driver got out, the only thing I could think to say was, "it's quite something, isn't it?"  He responded, "it sure is beautiful".

We drove on another mile to the Pickhandle Lake rest area (the ducks were there - actually a female mallard and a number of ducklings), and again I was moved beyond words by the spectacle.  Eventually I said to Sandra, "this is it, I don't want to go anywhere else".

Other people started to arrive, and rather than have the moment spoiled, we reluctantly moved on.  Further down the road we came upon a tiny car-gaggle.  It's the first we've seen since we've been in the Yukon (probably because there aren't enough people here to make a proper gaggle).  We slowed down, and someone told us there was a black bear up on the side of the hill.  There was too, going about his business, and his business was - as it always is for bears - eating.  We watched him for a while, but he stubbornly refused to pose in a photogenic way, just continued gnawing at leaves and berries and grass, oblivious to the attention he was drawing.

Finally we tore ourselves away again, heading for Burwash Landing.  I wasn't expecting anything much of note here, except maybe a decent view at which to stop and enjoy the sandwiches we'd bought at the 1202 Motor Inn, but there wasn't even that.  We did visit their Kluane Museum of Natural History, where they had a stuffed Canadian Lynx, which, when compared with our photos of the one we'd seen earlier confirmed the sighting.  We also learned that the sighting of such a creature in daylight and at this time of year was quite rare, which made it all the more special.

Pausing only to photograph the largest gold pan in the world, we moved on from Burwash Landing to Destruction Bay, so named because strong winds there blew down structures during the construction of the Alaska Highway.  If there was little at Burwash Landing, there was less at Destruction Bay, so, having eaten our lunch in a rest area, we drove on.

Kluane Lake was on our left now, the largest lake in the Yukon.  The road pulled teasingly away from it, then swung back and travelled close to it, giving us stunning views of not just the lake but the Ruby Range mountains beyond, and the Saint Elias Mountains curving against its southern flank.  We kept stopping to take pictures as each bend in the road seemed to bring more and more amazing views.

But the best was saved until last.

The road sweeps round in a long, slow arc, similar to those we've seen on the Icefield Parkway, drifting over a gargantuan landscape, letting you know how dwarfed you are by the distances and size of the scenery.  Then it curves around the bottom of the lake, and presents you with a view of the journey you have just undertaken; the mountains to the left, the lake itself stretching out in front of you, the enormity of the oddly named Sheep Mountain off to one side, dwarfing everything else.  It's jaw-dropping.  It was one of those moments when we both stepped out of the car and had to move apart from each other to spend some time alone with our thoughts and with the impossible views before us.

I debated not even writing this part up in the blog; I didn't want to share it, I don't want people to know about it, I don't want people tramping up there to be herded into huge car parks by slick attendants, I don't want there to be viewing platforms like they have at Lake Louise.  Never have I been so moved by a place.  The Yukon finally got to me today.

I don't know how long we stayed there.  I do know that starting the car engine took a physical act of will.  Leaving that place was like leaving a lover, that's the only way I can describe it.  It's corny, but all I could think of was a phrase from The Lord of the Rings, where Gimli leaves the land of Lorien: "I have taken my worst wound at this parting, having looked my last upon that which is fairest."

So, on to Haines Junction.

Another hour of driving, for we had dillied and dallied on the way, and a journey that should have taken just a few hours had taken nearly six.  We tumbled into a sunny Haines Junction at 4 pm, and followed the street map in my Bradt guide (there aren't many roads in this town) to the place I'd booked as a last resort when my other Haines Junction booking fell through.  There waiting for us by the Aspen Place Suite was Mrs. Erni Watson, the most welcoming and chirpy person we could have hoped for.  The Suite is unlike anything we've ever had in Canada: it is in fact a small cottage, with a kitchen, dining area, sitting area, bathroom and bedroom.  There's even a deck outside on which to sit in the sun (and we have, and will again).

Supplies were one thing we were short of though, so Erni told us where we could get some milk and cereal (she'd made us some homemade bread for tomorrow, plus there is coffee and butter and juice and other staples), and because she was going to the liquor store herself she gave us a lift down there where we picked up some wine and Yukon Red beer.  We walked back from there; everywhere is walking distance in Haines Junction.

The town is smaller than I thought it would be, and the main food store has recently closed down (is it right that the food store closes down but the liquor store is doing great business?).  We ate tonight in the Northern Lights restaurant.  You wouldn't know it was the Northern Lights restaurant because the sign's fallen off, but it's associated with the Alcan Motel which I remember when I was looking for a place to book, and my gosh I enjoyed the chicken curry and a couple of beers.

Tomorrow we'll head over to the Visitor Centre to see what's what, but I've got some walks planned.  They're easy ones, don't worry.