Dawson Creek is the only place I have ever cruzed down Main Street along a parade of trailers and rigs and every old geezer sitting proud like kids in the candy store. What a great kick-off to a great trip.
The people really look after each other here, some guy waved us down because one corner of the spare tire holder had broken (and two other corners were loose) creating a scary wobble and an imminent spark-filled under carriage. Our neighbors at the RV park that night spent a couple hours congregating supplies and tools and putting us on the road again. People can be so kind.
Most of the campsites have been inside some forest, no surprise there. Most places we stop align with a side trip we want to accomplish, for example Hells Gate which is a tram that takes you down a mountainside over this huge rapid system; the signpost forest in Watson Lake where over 75,000 signs have been erected from people all over the world when they stop in this little burg; or finally the Northern lights center who explains the aurora borealis in understandable terms.
Our animal count is 3 moose, 2 dahl sheep, 3 grizzlies, 1 otter, a dozen black bears, and a hundred bison.
The bears LOVE dandelions, and lucky for us, the flowers grow on the edge of the mown highway. Look at the pictures, the claws on those bears are HUGE, good thing there is a tall door between us and them.
David is driving and Karen is navigating. I suppose there is a reason for that. One day when the narrow roads were horrible with frost heaves, and the sky was pouring rain and we were driving slowly for hours and hours, an alarm went off. Karen’s response was to look in the Alaska milepost to find the next turnout, just 3 miles down that hill she proudly determined. David, who only has to deal with the roads, the weather, the truck and the alarms, says — NO HILL! NO BRAKES! the truck moves into a new alarm: beep, beep, beep TRAILER DISCONNECTED beep, beep, beep. No waiting, we got over the best we could, the roads were so rough, the big black cord had shaken out of the socket. We plugged it back in, tied it down and kept on going. So looking forward to a stiff drink when done for the day. The reason David drives is because he knows where things like the brakes are. Karen will keep her nose in the navigation book.
We boon docked for the very first time. No services, only us, a lake and a primitive camp site. The wine was chilled and the lake was beautiful. We learned to capture water from the hand pump down the way, heat the water on the stove and do the dishes. We opened every window blind, especially the big picture window at the rear, and turned our chairs around to look directly at the lake. The sunset was incredible, not to mention it happened at 11:30 PM! There was a opening ready for a boat right in our site, so we went kayaking. And the campfires!
There have been fun times too kayaking in Fort Saint John, boon docking at Muncho Lake (see Muncho Lake Post), and the Laird hot springs, a provincial park in British Columbia, was heaven sent. Time and the scenery keeps rolling by: 1,700 miles done and 600 more to Fairbanks.
