We spent most of today in Stewart and the surrounding area. We didn’t even start today’s drive until almost 5. After packing out of the dream cabin, we hit up Toastworks for breakfast. Aside from being a delightful diner, they also pride themselves as a “toaster museum” with hundreds of pieces including the first automatic pop-up toaster and many that came before. They’re also a bakery so we loaded up on “necessary provisions” for the road. Our sever mentioned a few tourism must-see spots, including Salmon Glacier. That was the second time someone had mentioned that, and we’d already planned to head that direction.
Salmon Glacier lies beyond Hyder, Alaska. Highway 37A, which connects Meziadin Junction to Stewart continues on through a minor US border crossing into a small town of less than 100 people called Hyder. Matching the surrounding area, the town unofficially observes Pacific Time, but the post office (a federal building) is the only place in town that observes official Alaska Time (an additional hour behind UTC). Also, most of their signs are in both metric and imperial units and most businesses appear to accept both US and Canadian cash as a compromise for mostly not accepting credit cards. Beyond it lies the boundary of the Tongass National Forest and the Fish Creek Observation Area.
Fish Creek is a glacial creek that is a breeding ground for two species of salmon. They hatch in the gravel in the creek and swim out to sea as (depending on the species) 1-4 year old fish, live there for 2-4 years, and return to the creek to mate, lay eggs, and die. The observation area is a boardwalk over a busy section of the creek with tons of young, old, and deceased fish. The young fish were competing to find fish eggs to eat, the old fish were rushing upstream with all the strength they could muster. And the dead fished emitted a stench that could make your eyes water.
The road to Salmon Glacier crosses back into British Columbia and terminates after 30km at the glacier overlook. It was unpaved (no big deal), but then became a nightmare of washboard and potholes deep enough to swallow a convertible whole. (Not that anyone would bring a convertible up there…). We fought our way up, stopping only twice to see a waterfall, then an overlook of mountains in the distance. The second stop was nearly 4,000 feet above sea level, which is where we’d started because Stewart is a sea port. The Volvo and the Tracker both found the incline quite stout and were smoking again…
The glacier observation point was spectacular.
We stood there in awe for a few minutes before I overheard one motorcyclist say to his friend:
An ideal all-terrain vehicle, the ’97 Celica.
I laughed and they realized I’d heard them. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking that all the way up here,” I laughed. “Well you made it, didn’t you?” He had a point. I had. And I didn’t even start smoking in the process… even if the ride was rough enough to shake my suspension to pieces and trigger my dashcam’s “accident detected, saving this recording” feature about a dozen times. We got to chatting. He gave his son a ’91 Celica as his first car, but apparently “he blew it up” by not changing the oil. He insisted on getting a picture of me with my car and sending it to his son.
He introduced himself as Paul, originally from London and now living in Oakland, CA. His fellow biker was a grade-school friend from England. They’re on an epic motorcycle circuit starting in the Bay Area and going up toward Denali, in celebration of their fiftieth birthdays.
George pointed out that this sounded a bit like Long Way Round, a British documentary of Ewan McGreggor and Charley Boorman who biked from London to New York City via Eastern Europe and Asia. Paul acknowledged that, yes, their trip was inspired by that. “And you lot look like Top Gear,” he added. He even pegged the three of us for the personalities we seem to resemble most from the show. He got another photo, of all three of us this time, and labeled us Clarkson, May, and Hammond. I sure wish I’d thought to ask him for a copy. It was too funny in an embarrassing kinda way.
After chatting with them, we hiked up the mountain to a higher overlook for one more look.
After the overlook, we drove back down to Hyder’s US Post Office because George had some Oklahoma Tax Commission paperwork due. All the OTC requires is a postmark, so while it’ll certainly take a while to get there, at least it will be “on time.”
We crossed the border back into Stewart. George, yet again, was elected to explain Top Gear to the border guard. She said she loved the show and thought our trip sounded awesome, allowing us an uneventful re-entrance. Back in town, we got gas and returned to the Silverado Café from yesterday for more fish and chips. In the process, I had four separate exchanges with locals about my car!
The server from breakfast spotted me at the gas station and asked if we’d made it to the glacier. Then she asked if the convertible I was standing next to was the car I drove, and if I really was from Texas. “You are crazy,” she told me, correctly. Then, as I was packing up, a man spotted my plates and asked what city I came from. I told him I live in Austin.
Oi! ‘Keep Ah-stin We-ird,’ eh?!
Two other folks on the street asked about my convertible and if I’d really come all the way up here in that and if I’d had the roof down the whole time. They were all surprisingly excited about it.
It was an unusual experience. The only people who wave at Xterra owners are other Xterra owners (which is a thing, we wave at each other — ask the internet). I’ve never been the one in a conspicuous car, which I prefer. Since I left home so long ago, I’ve still had a hard time shaking the feeling of self-consciousness for making a truly ridiculous impractical choice. But feeling like I’ve amassed a small fan club today, I have to say: I feel a little bit awesome.
After what was supposed to be our late lunch, we finally started the drive toward Dease Lake, including passing by Bear Glacier once more. It ended up being less than 5 hours, so we got in at a tolerable time. But there were so many bears!
I encountered the first bear at a rest stop photo-op — as I walked away from my car I heard a strange sound and looked over to see a bear emerge and look back at me from the bushes on the side of the road. I think we both scared each other because we both jumped back slightly, then both remembered the “don’t run from the predator lest he make chase” rule, so we both got noisy and slowly backed away. As the boys ran over to join me talking extra loudly, the bear disappeared back into the woods. I am mostly sure that I probably didn’t completely piss my pants.
Subsequent wildlife encounters were en route, usually with a bear feasting in the median or crossing the street. Nothing dangerous, but there were about 8 of them (and what I believe to be a caribou) over the following two hours. After dark, that calmed down — or maybe I just couldn’t see it… — and before long we rolled into Dease Lake at the only hotel in town.