Exerpt from RV-ing and Other Adventures North of 60

THE ALASKA HIGHWAY – DAWSON CREEK, BC TO WHITEHORSE, YT

June 1, 2005

We’re starting our North of 60 trip traveling blind, with no set time or schedule and only a rough itinerary, open to changes. On entering Dawson Creek’s main street we find in the middle of an intersection an erect white post with three flags anchored on top and these words on the post Mile 0, Alaska Highway. This is where this famous Highway begins. Just above the post and covering the bottom part of the flags is a plaque showing distances to places north: Fort Nelson – Whitehorse – Fairbanks, and a few others. We focus on Whitehorse that shows 918 historical miles (1469 km), our first goal.
At the Information Centre, we watch a film on ‘Building the Alaska Highway.’ The original Alcan Highway was built in 1942 by the US military to move equipment and troops to Russia, and as an overland route for the defense of Alaska. Twenty-five thousand workers, mostly military, were enlisted in constructing this massive project through forests, bogs, lakes and mountains. Work began on the road in February 1942, and completed later that year in November; and a year later it was renamed the Alaska Highway. This road was opened to the public in 1948. Since then much reconstruction has taken place to make the route shorter; in fact, the reconstructed road to Whitehorse is now 884 miles (1398 km). Just seeing the film has renewed my excitement.
We walk down the wide street lined with stores and a few souvenir shops, past the Mile 0 post, and noisy traffic, looking for the Willow Tea Room, as according to The Mile Post it has the ‘world’s best carrot cake’. We finally find the Tea Room on a side street, and the cake is very good, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s the ‘world’s best!’
Back on the road I’m beginning to feel the thrill of the unknown. The Alaska Highway in BC is in excellent condition as it takes us through treed hilly terrain, mostly spruce and poplar. Hills and twists become more frequent, but the road continues to be first class. Byron does most of the driving while I read bits of information to him about places we drive through from The Mile Post or other pamphlets we have collected. In between we listen to CDs, music mostly from the 50’s we brought along, as we enjoy the countryside. We stop at Fort St. John for a half-hour then continue on. It is getting increasingly cloudier with cooling temperatures, and before long we have hard rain hitting the windshield as we run into a downpour, more than a bit disappointing. Byron has decreased the speed accordingly.
The precipitation has tapered down to a light rain by the time we reach the Pink Mountain Campground where we plan to spend the night, mile 140 (224 km) from Dawson Creek. A Mile Post ad suggested it was a great campground; we find it to be the exact opposite. Just getting to our camp site is a struggle as the truck wheels spin up the wet rutted hill on the uneven ground, rocking us side to side. Our site is a wide place along a muddy road with an electric plug-in on a post hidden in the nearby trees. We go in search of washrooms and showers in spite of the falling mist that has flattened my hair around my face and made my jacket smell like a wet dog. To our surprise, we find a small unkempt building with two toilet cubicles and two showers, and its floor covered with mud. The worst is yet to come; it’s shared by both sexes. I am not a happy camper! “I’m not using that,” I tell my dismayed husband. He agrees. I had hoped for a nice hot shower. We trot back to the general store where we registered that also has a washroom; it’s clean and comfortable, but No shower. We stay since our books show no other campgrounds close by and it’s raining periodically.
What this place does have is a great view! We‘re on a side of a small mountain looking into green forested valleys on two sides, there’s not much else, but nonetheless it’s very attractive. And during a short clearing in the clouds, a beautiful rainbow appears in the east. This has made up for some of our disappointments. Our walk is cut short with a clap of thunder and another rain shower that lasts most of the evening, and so we’re confined to our camper.
Our dinners on the road are simple, the usual camping fare of hamburgers, beans, chili, macaroni and cheese, and an occasional steak. They are always complimented with raw vegetables and potato or corn chips, or rice. Tonight it’s chili and rice. Desert is the usual, cookies.