Yukon

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The Top of the World Highway (and Chicken, Alaska)

Several things came together this week to give me an excuse to drive the Top of the World Highway from West Dawson to Chicken, Alaska today!

My neighbour is moving to Anchorage and wanted a spotter behind her rig (a very nice Airstream) in case she ran into problems on this reputably rough road. She had driven the Top of the World before and knew that there is pavement shortly after Chicken and that Chicken is doable as a day trip from Dawson. So, not having had a day off since I got back from the Chilkoot and wanting to go to Alaska in memory of my dad who would have been 60 on the 24th, I found myself with ample excuses to go for a drive. Dad loved to go for drives and he would have enjoyed today’s trip so much!

The Canadian portion of the road is easy, mostly paved with a few gravel sections. The US side is essentially a dirt road, but we got lucky in that it had just been graded. Lately, people have been arriving at the campground from that road with their nerves fully frayed, but there was none of that today. The weather wasn’t the greatest, but I preferred a bit of mist and drizzles to having to keep my eyes glued to the road!

We left at about 10:30 and got lucky at the ferry, being able to drive on immediately. This was my first time since childhood going onto a ferry with a vehicle and it was good practise for this fall when I go to Vancouver Island! It was a most peculiar sensation to be moving forward without pressing any pedals!

It took us two and a half hours to get to the border at Poker Creek. She sailed through surprisingly quickly. I was asked where home is and it was lovely to not have to skirt around the question and reply “Dawson City.” He asked me where I was going and then why when I replied “Chicken”, shrugging when I said “Just to say I’ve been.”

It’s 40 miles from the border to Chicken and it took us almost two hours to get there as we followed two identical fifth wheels that exercised an overabundance of caution (not that I can blame them). We stopped at the new gift shop to get a free chicken (think keychain-sized plucked rubber chicken!) promised to us if we presented a brochure signed by the manager here. We then continued on to ‘downtown Chicken’, which includes a couple of very nice outhouses, a kitschy gift shop, a saloon, a chicken coop, and a café offering pretty good grub. Chicken has a year round population of 15, no flush toilets or phones, children are home schooled, the injured are medivacced to Fairbanks, and the old grump has left town. It’s an interesting place that had me hearing dueling banjos, if you get my drift…

The drive back was much quicker, even though I stopped at the pitifully few pull-outs to get pictures and to marvel that I was there, in mainland Alaska. It’s been an incredible summer!

The re-entry into Canada was easy as the border guard was a French-starved québécoise more interested in chatting about how long Dawson has been home than in whether I was trying to smuggle anything into the country. She did get around to asking me if I had any booze (no). It was surreal to cross from Alaska to Yukon in French!

About 75km shy of Dawson, I passed a couple of cyclists who seemed to be having tire issues. At first, they tried to convince me that they were fine, but the more they thought about my offer of a lift, the more it obviously appealed to them. They had doubts that all their gear would fit in my car, but I had every confidence it would. Check out the pictures for proof! 😀

We had a good chat as we continued on to Dawson, amused by the added serendipity that they were picked up by a fellow French speaker (he’s French, she’s German). They had planned to camp in West Dawson, but were happy to come here, to Bonanza Gold, when I told them that we have hot showers and laundry facilities!

The ferry crossing took no time at all, but it was 8:30 when we got back to Dawson. I suggested that getting food would be a good idea and they offered to treat me since I’ll be driving them around a bit tomorrow to find parts for their bikes. I think the dump will be a good place to start looking!

Today exemplified why I love this life so much; each morning is full of possibility for adventure and new encounters. Days like this just didn’t happen when I was doing the daily grind in Gatineau.

In the toad, crossing the Yukon. My first time since childhood on a ferry in a vehicle!

In the toad, crossing the Yukon. My first time since childhood on a ferry in a vehicle!

Slowly climbing above the treeline.

Slowly climbing above the treeline.

Slowly entering tundra.

Slowly entering tundra.

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So pleased I finally caught a Welcome to Alaska sign!

So pleased I finally caught a Welcome to Alaska sign!

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Boundary, just after the border. In summer, lodging, gas, and food can be found here, but it was closed today.

Boundary, just after the border. In summer, lodging, gas, and food can be found here, but it was closed today.

I had this image of a village of chickens...

I had this image of a village of chickens…

entering downtown Chicken

entering downtown Chicken

Downtown Chicken, part one

Downtown Chicken, part one

Downtown Chicken, part two. Of two.

Downtown Chicken, part two. Of two.

Chicken's chickens. And duck.

Chicken’s chickens. And duck.

Look at those purple mountains!

Look at those purple mountains!

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This is why it's called 'Fireweed.' The flower is bright purple in the summertime and turns to these fiery shades in the fall.

This is why it’s called ‘Fireweed.’ The flower is bright purple in the summertime and turns to these fiery shades in the fall.

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the edge of the world

the edge of the world

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I told them everything would fit if we put one bike on the roof.

I told them everything would fit if we put one bike on the roof.

They were amazed at my ability to gauge how much I can fit in my car. Apparently, the limit is one bike on the roof, one in the trunk, two people in front, one person in back, two huge backpacks in the trunk, and small items scattered throughout!

They were amazed at my ability to gauge how much I can fit in my car. Apparently, the limit is one bike on the roof, one in the trunk, two people in front, one person in back, two huge backpacks in the trunk, and small items scattered throughout!

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Canadian Math

One of the frustrations of working on the US/Canada border at a park where everything runs on loonies is that Americans get very upset that they have to use Canadian currency, notably dollar and two dollar coins. I just can’t figure out why Americans get so irked at having to use these coins, but it’s really quite ridiculous. They would rather stuff four quarters in a machine than one dollar. Some say that loonies are ‘heavy.’ (Hint: they are lighter than four quarters.)

Today, a lady put four quarters into the carwash that takes just loonies and then came in to complain that the machine doesn’t work. When I told her she should have put in a loonie instead of quarters she said “What’s the difference?” (Hint: quarter means ‘one fourth of something’.)

So, a quick run down on the three most used Canadian coins: Four caribou (quarters) will get you a loon (loonie/dollar) and two loons will get you a bear (toonie/two dollars).

Here are some irksome comments I’ve heard from Americans:

“Loonie is a stupid name for a coin.” I explained that it came from the loon that’s on the coin. To which he continued. “As I said, stupid. No one knows or cares what a loon is.”

“Toonie is a stupid name for a coin.” I explained that it came from the nickname for our dollar. To which he continued. “As if the name wasn’t stupid enough, your coin has two colours.” And that’s stupid because?

Finally:

“Your money looks fake.” To which I replied that at least it’s not ugly.

Any Americans reading this want to chime in as to why Americans find Canadian money so offensive?

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Sticker Shock

Today was my first time since leaving southern BC that I got real honest to goodness sticker shock. I thought I had some when I found out that kitty litter sells for a dollar a pound up here, but this was worse!

I ran out of propane on my onboard tank and, suspecting that propane would be ‘pricy’ up here, I decided to live off my 30 pounder until I get back to Whitehorse. I therefore had the 30 pounder filled today and the bill came to… thirty-six dollars.

All winter in Surrey, I filled that tank for twenty dollars. My onboard tank was last filled for thirty-seven dollars in Coquitlam!

OUCH!!!

I’m just grateful that I was able to go three full months with my onboard tank and an additional couple of weeks with the dregs of the 30 pounder, so I know that that I’m in no dire straits to fill up the onboard tank and that the auxiliary tank will get me back to civilization!

(not that Dawson isn’t civilization, of course… 😀 )

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Making Progress at Becoming a Yukoner

No word yet on health care and they need to do a background check on me before I can get a Yukon licence, but they had no qualms in giving me Yukon plates for my vehicles! The motorhome plates were twice what I’d been quoted, but at 100$ vs. 650$ in Quebec I didn’t balk! The clerk did have problems with the fact that my insurance was for a ‘Glendale’ while my Quebec papers are for a ‘Ford’, but she was no idiot and understood quickly that ‘Glendale’ is the house part of the motorhome while ‘Ford’ is the truck part. I give her points for not asking me if the truck part of the motorhome is insured! The motorhome plates were twice what I’d been quoted, 100$, but compare that to the 650$ in Quebec and you’ll understand why I didn’t balk. 🙂

Now that I have my shiny new Yukon plates, I’m more than ready for the adventure I’ll be setting off on Friday. Stay tuned!

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A Klondike Summer Draws to a Close

The summer of 2009 is one that will live in my heart for the rest of my life. It is drawing to a close as evidenced by the inky blanket of night that has returned and the days that are becoming cooler and wetter. The romantic part of me is sad to leave before winter sets in while the pragmatic part of me knows that leaving must now be foremost on my mind.

The fact that this is just a goodbye, not a farewell, makes the thought of departure bearable. I have nowhere near had my fill of the Klondike yet. This land has settled into my bones as firmly as it gripped my soul for a decade and I am afraid that I will never be free of it. It was here, at the end of a dream and at the very edge of the world, staring out into a land in which you could lose yourself that I found out what is truest about me. Some things I liked, some I didn’t, but I now know the stranger I once faced in the mirror every morning.

Tonight, I finally went for a walk down to Bonanza Creek, following a path that starts here at the RV park. It was a short stroll that took me through the essence of the Klondike, across dredge tailings and past mining equipment, reminding me that this was a land built on foolish dreams and honest labour. The land has been scarred by the miners searching for a yellow metal with no intrinsic value, but it is now inhabited by people who know that true wealth has very little to do with material riches.