Prince Rupert to Stewart

We did not see much of Prince Rupert because of how early we left this morning. Evan did visit the local NAPA to fetch ramps and a few tools for the Volvo so he can get a better chance to tighten the turbo oil return tomorrow morning. Then we threw everything in the trunks an headed out into the mist along the winding Yellowhead Highway (CA-16) along the Skeena River.

Since ancient times, the Skeena has been an important transportation artery, particularly for the Tsimshian and the Gitxsan—whose names mean “inside the Skeena River” and “people of the Skeena River,” respectively. […] The Tsimshian migrated to the Lower Skeena River, and the Gitxsan occupy territory of the Upper Skeena.

Skeena River. Wikipedia.

The Skeena also served steamboat traffic in the gold rush. Like the Port Hardy harbor, the river valley was washed out in a dense fog and low cloud cover, but we also saw the beginnings of fall color. I did not realize the start of September would be fall up here, but all the signs for “must use snow tires and carry chains” regulations activate on October 1.

We stopped about two hours into today’s drive in Terrace for lunch. Terrace is a logging and industrial town of about 18,000, the largest we’ll pass through for a while. Though several First Nations tribes have lived in Terrace for thousands of years, the establishment of the town is credited to a man named George Little:

Ontarian George Little arrived in the Skeena River valley in March 1905. While travelling from the Yukon by snowshoe on the Kitimat trail en route to the Bulkley Valley, he liked what he saw in the area, decided to remain, and staked claim later in the year to many acres of what would later be Terrace

The riverboats operated on the Skeena for only 22 years; the last boat, the Inlander, finished up in September 1912, when the Grand Trunk Pacific Railway took over its function. George Little donated 47 acres to the Grand Trunk Pacific Railway. The station stop was originally named “Littleton”; however, as there was already a Littleton in New Brunswick, Little changed the name to “Terrace” in reference to the local geography and the traditional Tsimshian name for the area. Little established a sawmill to accommodate the demand for railway ties. In 1955, Little rode the first CNR train to Kitimat, passing over the same route he had trekked one half century earlier.

Terrace. Wikipedia.

Looking for lunch in a town like this, we assumed we’d find… like… everyday Canadian food? Instead, aside from American chains like Denny’s, McDonald’s, and Pizza Hut, all the options were international. Indian, Chinese, Sushi, Korean, and (I kid you not) Mexican. Having high standards for the latter given our origins, we headed over to the Korean restaurant. Bulgogi sounded good.

On the way out, there was a house at the end of the street that I was curious about. Turns out, it’s George Little’s actual house — it was moved from its original location to the edge of the railroad to be the train station and Information/visitors center and gift shop. In talking to the proprietor, we learned that Little apparently died on the Titanic. Also, she told us that passenger service is only thrice weekly and always delayed because the line prioritizes freight now, launched into the biographies of the native artists who made the items she was selling, and gave us a card describing the mysterious Kermodei bear.

The Kermodei is an all-white offspring of a black bear. The coloring is a recessive gene among the black bear species; it is not an albino or polar bear. This actually came up on the ferry, too, as we passed Princess Royal Island where there’s a habitat for Kermodei bears but we couldn’t understand the ferry captain over the PA. All I heard was “not an albino bear” but that was enough to connect these stories.

After our history and culture lesson, we got back on the road. At Kitwanga, we turned up the start of the Cassiar Highway.

There were many warnings about how rough and remote this road would be, even the recommendation to bring two spare tires. Please. This is better maintained than most of the US Highways I took to get here, and I took a lot of them. In fairness, this is the “newer” half of this road; it originally only connected the mining town of Cassiar to the AlCan Highway to the north — maybe it gets worse. The route weaved along the Nass River through a logging forest, with mountains in the distance in all directions.

We stopped at a battlefield. My historian uncle Billy would be so proud!

We stopped at the Gitwangak Battle Hill historic sight that George found in the guidebook. The hilltop had a magnificent view of the Seven Sisters mountain formation and snow-capped peaks in all directions, with the river below.

The hill was originally an encampment founded by the Gitwangak warrior chief ‘Nekt and was used as a stronghold. He and his tribe roped downed cedar trees with the branches cut short but not cut off, which they could roll down the hill at attackers trying to come up as a primary defense. His whole biography was split among the plaques leading up the hill, transcribed from an oral history in the 70s.

After Battle Hill, we made a quick stop at a nearby villiage famous for having an unusually dense collection of totem poles. …at a gas station…

As we neared Stewart, we turned off briefly at Meziadin Lake’s picnic area for a snack. There were bears! (I’m in a ragtop… this may have been poor planning.)

Our final stop on the way into Stewart was Bear Glacier. In the 90s, this glacier extended across what is now a lake, all the way to the roadway.

It was a fantastic but also sad sight because this pretty clearly won’t still be here in 10-20 years. The whole drive toward it was like entering Jurassic Park, the road (lined in avalanche warning signs) plunged into a valley lined with mountain peaks and glacial waterfalls in all directions. Obviously, I drove this with the roof down which made the other two catastrophically jealous, but I will privately admit that it was rather cold… #worthit.

Finally we rolled into Stewart. Into this epic AirBnB. Where did you stay last night?

Stewart is interesting, there’s a bit of new construction plus also tons of derelict buildings. One restaurant even has signs that they’re closing their dinner service due to staffing shortage. We hit up the only open restaurant in town and then took a stroll on the boardwalk over the estuary on the edge of town.

We regarded Stewart as a detour, it added about an hour each way from Meziadin Junction to our drive, but I cannot believe we almost missed this. And it means we get to drive this epic road again in the morning!

Highway Bears and The Ideal All-Terrain Vehicle

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.

One last day in British Columbia

Today was yet another amazing adventure. We started off at the hotel in Dease Lake. George replaced his pre-exploded upper radiator ticking-timebomb balloon with a new upper radiator hose. Evan applied an additional hose clamp on the turbo oil return. And I added another half a liter of oil to the Celica and cleaned off some of the dead bugs.

After the repairs, we ran across the street to the town grocery, gas station, post office, liquor store, restaurant, deli, video rental, and bank. To be clear: this was all one establishment. We had breakfast burgers, refueled, and grabbed a few snacks and more Canada-bucks. As locals entered, they all greeted each other by name, clearly everyone here knew everyone else. It was charming.

As we got on the road out of Dease Lake, we realized that the hint of yellow-green to the trees yesterday may actually be the start of fall colors. Today featured a lot of early-fall leaves as we made our way further north. Every day’s drive is even better than the day before, and I just don’t know how to handle it. I’m also not quite sure how the boys have managed all of this drive without being able to open the roof. What a shame… for them.

Our next stop was the “World-Famous Jade City.” Despite its self-proclaimed world famousness, I learned about this village about two hours before we arrived, so don’t feel bad if it doesn’t ring a bell. But there’s a TV show about it and everything — they were selling DVDs. The gift shop features local artists’ crafts mostly in jade and other local stone.

As it so happens, Jade City is all that remains of the township of Cassiar, supporting the mining output in the area. Cassiar puts out nearly a million pounds of jade annually, and until the 90s, it was also a primary mine and exporter of chrysotile asbestos. That means that this highway (originally built to support this mine) and its settlements are the world’s primary exporters of green knickknacks and mesothelioma commercials.

That grey/green mountain… we think it’s Mt. Mesothelioma. Or just unrefined jade. We opted to not get close enough to determine which.

After Cassiar, we dropped by Boya Lake, a Provincial Park (as best I can determine, this is the equivalent to a State Park) in northern BC. It is maybe the most beautiful lake I have ever seen.

The striking color of the lake is thanks to the clarity of the water and the white lakebed. The bottom is composed of marl, a mixture of silt and shell fragments. We met a local couple who encouraged us to take out the rental kayaks, and given the view from the lakeside, how could we not? There were five kayaks just lying on the beach with paddles and life jackets with a sign indicating 20 canadiabucks for 2 hours, pay at the lockbox in the parking lot. In the US, these would have just been stolen.

I’m proud of Evan, it was his first time ever in a kayak. Likely also his last, but we did our best. George and I had discovered paradise. Evan… hadn’t. We kayaked up the lake to a beaver dam and back again, and it was glorious.

I also learned how to lock my trunk today, which is great. I’ve had the top down for most of the trip so far, which means my boot release latch is like… clearly visible and accessible when I’ve gone off and left the car on one our walkabouts. Apparently this is a thing I should have intuited earlier, but now I feel better about leaving a laptop, Nintendo Switch, satellite phone, and a backpack full of camera gear just chillin’ in the car park…

After our third round of boating adventures, we set off toward Watson Lake, past the terminus of the Cassiar Highway, a few kilometers east down the Alaska Highway. As of today, we’ve driven the entire Cassiar Highway, and what a treat it has been! Also we’re in Yukon now. The second half of the road was closer to the promised condition — none of today was marked or striped, and it got a rather bumpy in places, but again, still a well enough cared for road. And we’ve picked up on a Canadian highway maintenance tradition: when a small section of road is a little messed up, they appear to mark it with a tiny red sign on a stick that says “Slow.”

There, we checked into the hotel and went to dinner at the Chinese restaurant that was recommended to us at Jade City. But I think that could just be shortened to “the restaurant” because it appears to be that. Also it’s not just Chinese, but also serves Vietnamese, burgers, fried chicken, Korean, big American breakfasts, and chocolate cake.

Northern Lights and Northern Cars

We started this morning with another breakfast at a truck stop / multipurpose store place and then ran across the street to check out the Sign Post Forest, one of the most notable roadside attractions on the Alaska Highway.

The original signpost (restored) still stands at the center of the park.

During road construction in 1942, soldiers erected a signpost for other cities along the route and a couple US cities back into the States and beyond. One soldier who was tasked with painting the sign had become homesick and asked to add a sign to his hometown of Danville, IL. In the time since, motorists the world over have added their own signs.

After poking around, we ran over to the Visitor Center where George struck up conversation with a woman named Button who gave us the greatest hits of today’s segment and some local history. I read up on their presentation of the history of the ALCAN Project in their gallery.

Originally, the Northwest Staging Route was a series of small air fields and radio stations that stretched from the from Alberta through Alaska and into the Soviet Union. In December of 1941, the attack on Pearl Harbor inspired an urgent need to be able to access and defend Alaska by land, so the “Alaska-Canada Military Highway” project, or ALCAN, was started. With Canadian cooperation, President FDR authorized the start of construction in February 1942. By October 1943, the road was officially completed. It was officially renamed The Alaska Highway that same year. After the war in 1946, the road was transferred to the Canadian government to operate.

We walked back over to the Sign Post Forest and I decided to pull the trigger on an idea I’d been mulling over. You see, the Great State of Texas has determined that each car needs a front and a rear license plate, but who up here is going to know that?

After our little moment, we got ready for the drive today. I popped the hood on the Celica to check on the oil situation and discovered something terribly embarrassing. The oil cap was off, though thankfully it hadn’t fallen out. For the life of me I cannot remember when I removed it. Had I started to do an oil refill this morning and got interrupted? … Was it still off from yesterday? Thankfully (and surprisingly) I didn’t lose much oil, so I added just a bit and closed up. I can’t believe I did that. I was hoping to get away with it until…

Our first stop was about an hour out, the Rancheria Falls Recreation Site. We pulled up, shut down our cars, and … all three were smoking. The Volvo and the Tracker because that’s what they do sometimes, and I’ve had a lot of schadenfreude about it. But because of the oil spill in the Celica’s engine bay, that I caused by being an idiot, the Celica was smoking, too, burning off the spillage. I got exactly what I deserved for that from the other two. As the Celica vented, we strolled down to the waterfall on a nice forest trail that opened up onto a boardwalk.

Back on the road, we went over the Continental Divide. Which I thought I’d already done back in New Mexico… But unlike the Continental Divide in the US, which separates the Pacific and Atlantic Ocean watersheds, the divide we passed today separates the Pacific from the Arctic. Today’s autumn colors were even more stark.

Also we each hit odometer milestones today. The Volvo overtook the Celica’s total mileage and they both crossed 169,000. (Remember how the Celica has slightly larger tires than are spec? That means my spedo/odo are about 3% slow.) George hit 178k. I missed the photo…

Our next stop was the George Johnston (Johnstone? seen it both ways) Nature Trail. He was a local tribal elder and his story is so cool, it is worth repeating directly from the page our George found about him:

George Johnstone was a local leader of the Tlingit First Nation people. George was a trapper and then a leader of innovation completing his life as a well known photographer of the Yukon Territories. [… Before the Alaska Highway,] the transportation routes for the First Nation people consisted of the Yukon River, Teslin Lake and the Nisutlin River. In 1928 that all changed. George went out and bought a Chevy and barged it to Teslin.

Soon later he built a 6 kilometre road to Fox Creek to transport people from village to village operating as a taxi company. In the winter the sedan would be painted white to camouflage with the snow covered Teslin Lake so George and his buddies could go hunting for wolves.

Later on in life his road was used as the foundation for the Alaska Highway near Teslin. Today the trail is a reminder of the George Johnstone highway.

George Johnstone Trail, Eh Canada Travel.

Back on the road and just over an hour from Whitehorse, we stopped at Johnsons Crossing; Button told us they made some of the best pastries in the Yukon.

The cashier there saw us, asked us about the cars, and immediately jumped to the conclusion “oh they’re just junkers for a one-way run, right? sellin’ ’em when you get there?” She says this is actually quite common, a rental for the trip would be horrifically expensive. And for locals, new cars don’t survive well up here anyway. Everyone prefers to buy an old beater, fix it up a bit, and ditch it when it becomes too much trouble.

Well, these two are Northern cars, they’ll sell easy. But… eh, you might lose some money on that little white car though. It’s not a Northern car…

Cashier at Johnsons Crossing

As we rolled on toward Whitehorse, I did see a small handful of smaller cars on the road, and even three convertibles, so I may not be Northern as if I rolled up here in the Xterra, but at least I’m not alone. Also this was the first time we saw Fairbanks, AK on a distance sign. Today, we hit our half-way point, both in mileage kilometerage and days, which is a bittersweet thought.

We had dinner at a pub with live music that was actually pretty great. Also it was walking-distance to our rental townhouse. As it got dark and colder, we watched a little football (Tulsa won, but Texas lost) and a little tv before George noticed something amazing happening outside.

We sat and watched the lights ripple across the sky for a while, then turned in for the night. Tomorrow is a day off in Whitehorse!

“Austin TX to Anchroage AK. 2019. Taylor Smith, Evan Mackay, George Louthan. In a $2,000 Toyota Celica.”