fatrat66

[fatrat66]

Prospector Frank & the Mutants

KA-BOOM!

A hail of tiny stones bombarded the tin roof of Frank Matheson’s shelter as the old codger took cover from his TNT blast.

“Aha! Look-see Boris? That was a good ‘un!”

“Woof!” barked Boris in agreement. The hound bounded towards the smoking crater, while Frank came nimbly after, hopping across the debris towards the gaping hole in the side of the rocky hill. Boris’ excited tail sank between his legs and he uttered a low growl with his ears pinned back. The scent of sparkgas wafted into Frank’s nostrils a moment later.

“Corr, smells rife, eh ma’ boy. That confirms it! There’s a motherlode somewhere round ‘ere! Easy now, it’s just the after-fumes. We blew up the gas pocket. There’s a good pooch.” He patted Boris on the flat of his skull before ambling over to the rocksplitter. With a crank of the handle, the juddering machine roared to life, coughing black smoke from its upright exhaust. Frank hopped into the tattered control seat of his iron arm. With giddy excitement, he used the arm to pick up car-sized boulders and fed them into the rocksplitter, which chewed them into manageable sized chunks and spat them out onto a conveyor. The conveyor led to a giant bucket bigger than the shack that Frank lived in, where they waited for the next stage of the refining process. Frank swung merrily in the seat as the clawed mechanical crane jerked this way and that at its master’s expert bidding.

An hour later, the bucket was full to the brim. Frank hopped down from the iron arm and flicked the chunky off switch causing the rocksplitter to stutter and choke itself to silence, belching a final cloud of smoke into the sky before going back to sleep. Frank made his way over to the stonemangler, an oversized cheese grater designed to skin the dirt and mud off of rock and ore, cleverly separating each piece into trays via pre-determined sized holes, ready for Frank’s inspection.

Frank put his monacle on and hunkered beneath the mangler to inspect the first chunk of ore that found its way into the smallest inspection tray. The ore was the size of his thumb and when held up against his monacle, Frank could see the tiny veins of red streaking through the dusty rock.

“Hmm-mmm,” Frank mused satisfactorily, turning the rock between his fingers. He tossed it back into the chute and moved to the medium-sized hole, where he repeated his examination on a slightly bigger piece of ore.

“Aha!” he exclaimed, stroking the coils of his wispy white beard that fell down to his chest. His eye gleamed behind the monacle at the specimen in his hand.

A crystal shard of shiny ore reflected the morning sun, sending a prism of rainbow coloured light onto the grizzled man’s wrinkly cheek.

Kronium. The most precious mineral man had ever known. It powered their machines, and acted as their currency simultaneously. Without it, they were mindless apes. But after its discovery, man became something else.

Frank let out a childish giggle. “Hooooo-weee! Kronium, boy! And I’ll bet this is but a mere nugget!” Boris joined him in a little dance around the campsite they called home, deep in the heart of the Yukor Wilderness. “Let’s find the motherlode!”

An ear piercing animalistic screech echoed down the hills, coming from the direction of the old abandoned mine. Frank’s gaze followed the little stream that ran through the middle of his camp, up into the hills, coming from the old mine’s exit tunnel a few clicks above him, poking out of the side of the mountain like a serpent’s head. He spied movement at the tunnel’s mouth, and it wasn’t just the water from the stream pouring out, but something else too.

“Dag’nabbit, that’s just what we need. Muties a’comin boy!”

Boris barked up at the mountain and gave a menacing growl.

“To yer station, boy!” Frank barked back. He pulled the brim of his straw hat down over his scowling brow, then stretched out his arms, cracking every one of his bony knuckles with a gruesomely satisfying cacophony of crunches.

He went straight to the rear wall of his shack and opened a ramshackle cupboard door that hung on a single rusty hinge. An assortment of buttons and switches haphazardly arranged on an ancient switchboard greeted him. Frank pushed a few chunky buttons and yanked a heavy lever, re-routing power from the shack to the outer defences. An audible sad hum sounded from the cabin accompanied by a chirpy whine which came from somewhere behind him, as his electrified perimeter fence powered up.

He grabbed the lever-action shotgun from his porch and shoved a fistful of shells into the front pouch of his overalls. He loaded three shells into the gun and cranked the lever to pop one into the chamber before slinging the gun’s strap over his shoulder. Frank returned to the iron arm, and made himself comfortable in the tattered seat once again, before swinging the contraption in the direction of the hills, opening the claw to face the approaching wave of mutants.

Five humanoid creatures spilled down the hill towards Frank’s camp. They tumbled down on all-fours, their greyish-green skin soaked up the sun’s rays to make them look lizardlike. Their clawed hands scratched against the bare rock as they scrambled down, following the gurgling stream, sniffing the air with the two gaping holes that used to be nostrils now but resembled little more than slits in their deformed, grotesque faces. Once human, now this sad leftover.

Two of them reached the fence at the same time and were fried instantly. Their skin sizzled and they slumped backwards, lifeless on the ground, tendrils of smoke rising gently from their eye sockets.

The remaining three took note and veered in a different direction. One tried crawling through the fence behind the shack, it managed to get both arms and its head through but when its swollen belly touched the cable, it convulsed, jerked and spasmed until it lay dead slumped across the fence.

“Dang’it, now that’ll draw half the power.” He whistled to Boris, and pointed at the mutant caught on the fence. “Clear it, boy!”

Boris set off at a bound towards the dead creature. He sank his teeth into its hand, and the sizzle of electricity set all his fur sticking up into the air. His tail bristled with electricity, as he tugged on the arm, yanking it through the fence. Boris was used to it. The electricity didn’t bother him anymore, now that Frank had fitted him with rubberized paw-protectors.

Two muties remained, both circling the fence, headed for the mine itself, drawn to the smell of sparkgas. Frank followed them with his swivelling iron arm, the claw poised menacingly. A mutant leapt the fence as nimble as an acrobat. Frank was ready for it. He caught it in mid-air and the claw crushed it like a melon. Black blood spewed out of the side of the claw, and dripped into the stream where it was carried away out of the camp.

The second mutie leapt the fence a moment later. Frank’s shotgun sang and the mutie’s chest exploded. He cocked it again and fired a second round just to be sure.

Then there was nothing but the wind, and the gentle sound of Boris gnawing on a bone.

Frank eyed the hillside, until he was satisfied that no more muties were coming down from the old mine, then he hopped down from the iron arm.

“Just another day in Yukor, eh lad?” he remarked, tucking his thumbs behind his dungaree straps.

Boris barked in agreement, then swallowed his bone.

[fatrat66]

To the Yukon and Back - Day 11

Drive: Hudson’s Hope – Clinton – 765km

I drove a lot today, not all of it productively. I first stopped at Chetwynd, a logging town quite literally in the heart of BC (if you think of the province itself as a torso, then Chetwynd is situated pretty much where a human heart would be!) which seemed quite apt considering Canada’s reputation for trees. This town celebrated its industry by proudly displaying many impressive carved statues along its roads, and I stopped to marvel at a few as I passed through.

These were all examples of carvings made by talented chainsaw artists. Yes, they were made using chainsaws. I honestly don’t know how they can get such intricate work done with a chainsaw, I assume they’re allowed to use something a bit more delicate for some of the details, but they’re all really incredible pieces of art no matter the tools used.

I loved the dinosaur in particular, and had to snap a picture of this bike which I know my dad will appreciate.

After this, it was nothing but glorious views for about 6 hours as I cruised down Highway 97, listening to a mix of podcasts and long stretches of musing to myself as I came up with ideas and plot points for a new story that is coming to me. Very early days, and no guarantees this idea will stick, but MY GOD it feels good to get my creative juices flowing again. That was one of the goals of this trip and I’m so relieved to feel this part of my brain waking up again. It’s been too long.

I spent about 2 hours driving around 100 Mile House looking for a campsite, but everywhere was either fully booked or closed. This was a bit jarring for me as I’ve spent the last 10 days having absolutely no problems finding a campsite to stay at, despite it being peak holiday season. I had assumed that I’d gotten lucky, since COVID is still very much affecting the tourist industry here in Canada, I figured that was the reason I’d been managing to find places to stay so easily. But I guess this region is just popular?

During these fruitless 2 hours of driving, I did find the amusingly named Lone Butte, which I immediately took a photo of to send to my friends back home who I knew would find it equally hilarious as me. And since it really was a lone butte sticking out of the ground in the middle of nowhere, I decided to climb up it and was treated to a rather nice view from the top.

Anyway, I’ve made it as far as Clinton, a little village just north of Kamloops, and I decided to treat myself to another motel, as way of ending my trip, really. So I’m living it up on a big double bed and I even had a shower which was luxurious.

Oh and I’m nearly finished with book 2 of The Witcher…

[fatrat66]

To the Yukon and Back - Day 10

Drive: Fort Nelson – Hudson’s Hope – 580km

The penultimate night of my road trip. I’m just a couple of days away from Fernie now. I could do it in a single day if I really pushed, it’s probably a 13 hour drive, but I’m on holiday and I have no intention of putting myself through that.

I’ve made it to an idyllic little village called Hudson’s Hope. I’m staying at a small campsite a little out of town, beside a great big lake, on top of a sandy cliff. I’m currently sat on the steep sandy cliff recording this blog right now on my phone. I’m watching the setting sun reflecting off the water, and it’s a windy day so the waves are crashing noisily beneath me. Its very peaceful.

I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t decided, on a whim, to take a totally random route to get here from Fort Nelson. I fancied aiming for a place called Dawson’s Creek, purely because it matched the same name as an old cheesy TV show that I never watched, but when I got there, it wasn’t very nice at all. It seemed to be an industrial town, full of factories and nothing like the quaint image I had in my head so I decided to keep driving. I punched in “camping” into google maps to see what was available, and one place immediately jumped out at me: Dinosaur Lake.

I immediately saw visions of a lake full of dinosaurs, and hoped to see exactly that. Or at the very least some plastic dinosaurs sticking out of the water, or maybe a fossil museum or something. I don’t know, the name excited me, so I drove the 100km farther than I really had to in hope of finding this place, and ended up discovering a small dam on the whimsically named Peace River, at the top of which was the actual Dinosaur Lake Campground. It was pretty nice, but as you can see, no dinosaurs!

So I carried on until I found this spot and am glad I did. I’ve just enjoyed some tuna pasta that I cooked on my camp stove, the first non-canned meal I’ve made for myself all week and I’m now going to enjoy the sunset while I read my book at the top of this cliff.

Today was a day of getting lost and seeing what I can find. I wonder what tomorrow will bring, my final full day on this roadtrip.

[fatrat66]

Marl Brown, curator of the Fort Nelson Heritage Museum. He proudly showed off his impressive collection of vintage cars to me.

[fatrat66]

To the Yukon and Back - Day 9

Drive: Lapie Canyon - Liard River Lodge – 570km

That was yesterday’s journey actually. My days are rolling into each other, which must mean I’m having fun.

Drive: Liard River Lodge – Fort Nelson – 300km

Today I drove from Liard River to Fort Nelson, a mere 300km. It only took me about 3 and a half hours, following Route 97. But what a drive it was. Route 97 is a highway that crawls its way up the entire length of British Columbia, all the way to the Yukon in the far north. This is the shortest drive I have taken so far during this roadtrip, but despite that it’s also been one of the most rewarding as I saw an abundance of wildlife. In total, I counted 5 black bears, two bison bulls, and two reindeer-like creatures that I think were actually caribou. The bears alone got me giddy with excitement, because I only saw a single bear during my entire first year since arriving in Canada, so to see 5 in a single day was very exciting and memorable.

I generally believe it’s best not to interfere with nature too much, so am loathe to slam on my brakes and skid to a frantic halt in order to snap a photo of a surprised bear whenever I see one, because this must surely frighten and confuse them as they go about their day-to-day business eating grass and berries and whatnot. But today I’ve been cruising along, stopping numerous times for photos of the scenery and generally enjoying the solitary roads which I’ve had to myself for the last few days, and I’ve been driving a bit slower than usual. So when I spotted a big, black blob in the grass ahead of me as I was driving along, I instinctively slowed down to a crawl and watched with eager anticipation as I got closer to see what kind of animal it was. Today, I just kept seeing bears!

Look at this bear!

And this little guy!

And this poor bear had some sort of wound on his back which looked terribly painful, and I felt sorry for him.

And like I say, I saw two of these reindeer-looking guys. Are they caribou’s?

My car has had something rattling beneath it for several days now and today I finally had an opportunity to get it fixed, as there are several mechanics in Fort Nelson. A friendly mechanic raised my car onto the hydraulic lift thingy and quickly helped me tie the flapping heat shield panel securely. He didn’t even charge me for it!

After this, I visited the Fort Nelson museum and met an ancient-looking old feller called Marl who proudly showed me his impressive collection of old cars. They really were quite a sight, over 15 of them in total, all lined up inside a long garage with walls adorned with old gas station signs, license plates, gas cans, and all sorts of car-enthusiast memorabilia. Outside, there’s a bunch of old trucks, construction equipment and even a Zamboni, but these were a sadder sight as they are just out in the sun day in and day out, slowly rusting to death. Still, worth a visit, and I snapped lots of photos of the machinery to use for inspiration on a new short story that I’ve started writing.

[fatrat66]

To the Yukon and Back - Day 8

Drive: Dawson - Lapie Canyon - 570km

I’m now on the way back.

Last night I stayed at Lapie Canyon campground, which is next to Lapie Canyon, surprisingly. It’s quite a charming gorge with a river running through it. I discovered the river is a crystal turquoise colour, the likes of which always reminds me of the water in New Zealand because that’s the colour of most of the water there.

I went for a little walk without my phone, because sometimes I believe its good for you to explore a new place without the pressure of having to take photos of it. I feel like you can take things in more naturally and more deeply if you just look with your eyes and feel it out. So I did that. It was a very pleasant stroll along the top wall of the canyon, and i had no expectations of this place which somehow enhanced the whole experience of being there. This is something I’ve found numerous times on my travels.

That being said, as soon as I finished traversing the canyon and reached the bridge at the end, the sun was shining on all the rocks and they looked so magnificent, I decided to jog back to my camping spot to get my phone and I did the stroll all over again to take the photos you see here in this blog post.

So, Lapie Canyon was a lovely stop, probably one of my most memorable so far.

I’m now driving south, taking an entirely different route home to the one I came on, to make this whole journey a bit of a loop. I’ve passed out of the Yukon! I drove down a very long, lonely country road for the first 3 hours of my day, and I’ve now crossed the border and am back in norther British Columbia.

I had a little encounter with some birds. I pulled into a stop to take a photo of a place that the highway suggest I take a photo, the way it does with the little square photography icon signs now and then. As I was walking back to my car I spied a curious bird sitting in a tree, so I took a photo of it. Then as I turned around to go back to my car, I happened to turn around just in time to see the bird swooping directly for my head. It divebombed me. I believe the only reason it didn’t fly into my head was because I immediately proceeded to flap my arms in a panic making it divert its course away from me.

Anyway, I got to my car, opened my boot and began making a sandwich for my lunch, and more birds started showing up. They brazenly sat on my car, looking at me quizzically, and now and again would divebomb me causing more arm flaps from my part. if it hadn’t happened before I started making my sandwich I would have guessed they were hungry and wanted to be fed or to steal my food but I honestly don’t understand the behaviour. Perhaps they were just hungry and used to other people stopping and feeding them. Or perhaps they had a nest and were trying to scare me off to protect their young ones. I honestly don’t know. I’ll have to ask my friend Kerry who is the bird expert among my friends, maybe she will know.

Anyway, I have now left the Yukon behind me and I’m currently watching a herd of bison roaming around in the road, stopping traffic. They’re very cool. Big shaggy beasts. There seems to be a lot of them in this stretch of road, I have seen several lone bulls wandering along the side of the highway as well as this larger herd of about thirty.

My next waypoint shall be the Liard River, where I’ve heard there are some natural hot springs, but a sign earlier suggested that the springs themselves are currently closed, no doubt because of COVID-19. But the campground itself is still open, at least I hope.

[fatrat66]

To the Yukon and Back - Day 7

My last day in Dawson. One sad thing and two awesome things. Let’s get the sad thing out of the way first – my friends will be disappointed to hear that I missed out on the “sourtoe shot” by ten friggin minutes. We arrived at the bar that sells it, just after they had stopped serving it. Let me elaborate. One of the bars in town, the Downtown Hotel Bar somehow acquired some severed human toes, presumably from donors who got frostbite and had to have their toes removed. This bar has mummified or preserved them in some way, and they make you drink a shot out of a glass with one of these toes resting in the bottom of it. You apparently must allow the toe to touch your lips when you drink the shot, which sounds gloriously revolting and I wanted to do it but unfortunately I missed out by ten minutes.

The next two nights I spent with Becky and Eric at the gold mine, which is so far out of town, about 2 hour’s drive into the middle of absolutely nowhere, and there was no opportunity or reasonable reason to drive all the way back at precisely the time they were serving the toe shot, and so I must leave this as an excuse to come back to Dawson another day.

But this leads me to the awesome parts of my day. I slept on the floor of Becky and Erics room, which was cosy enough. They were both up in the early hours to start their jobs, Becky driving the haul truck, and Eric off to fix machines and whatnot. he was kind enough to lend me his truck for the day though, and so I set off into the wilds with their two dogs Lincoln and Shelby for company. I got to explore the Yukon hills under a beautiful sunny day. I re-visited the abandoned ambulance that we saw briefly the night before, and sat on top of it reading my book, while the dogs ran around sniffing trees and digging up gofer holes. It was a lovely afternoon.

When I returned to the camp, it was a matter of waiting for Becky and Eric to finish their twelve hour shift so they could drive me back to where I had left my car some 40kms away at Hunkers Summit. But on our way, we stopped off to enjoy the most redneck of activities, and shot some cans with some GUNS.

I’ve only shot a gun twice before, once in New Zealand on a hunting experience, and the other time was with a friend in Fernie not long after I arrived there. This time was much more interesting than both of those previous attempts. I couldn’t tell you what kind of guns I shot, because I can’t remember, but one was a scoped rifle, and the other was some sort of shotgun. I managed to hit one of the cans, which I’m rather proud of because it was a pretty long way away at the time. The can exploded and I remember seeing bits of it flying into the air, which was very satisfying.

So yes, I got the “full redneck experience” as Becky liked to call it with a big grin on her face as she proceeded to blast two of the other cans one after the other.

After this, they drove me to my car and I bid them both a fond farewell, with each of us promising to meet again soon.

Overall, Dawson has been very rewarding and I would recommend it to anyone, even though I only spent a small amount of time in the actual town and most of it in the wilderness surrounding it.

[fatrat66]

Nature

A lake like a mirror reflects the sky, still as glass.

A rolling carpet of trees either side of the gently winding road.

A peaceful campsite, your own private fire, nature’s oven.

A baked potato to warm the soul, filled with hot melting cheese.

Birdsong overhead, a calming sound AGH GO AWAY MOSQUITO.

Squirrels squeaking playfully, GET OUT OF MY EAR and the wind sighs among the leaves.

Is there anything more wholesome STOP BUZZING NEAR ME than being out in nature?

Out here, I find inner peace NO YOU CAN’T HAVE MY BLOOD and my worries drift away on the breeze.

Later, I’ll sleep under a canopy of twinkling stars and HOW F*#!ING DARE YOU I WILL END YOU AGH HOW MANY OF YOU ARE THERE WHY WON’T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE AAAAAGGHH

[fatrat66]

To Yukon and Back - Day 6

Drive: none! (Well, a little bit around Dawson.)

I slept in my car last night and was relieved to discover that if I lie diagonally, I can stretch out fully and only just touch the car wall. I used some pegs to pin my camping bedsheets around my car to block out the light because now that I’m this far north, the sun barely goes down!

I was up until past midnight hanging out with Becky who took me on a small tour of town, including a couple of bars, and some local sights, including a local viewpoint locally known as The Dome. It’s a big hill overlooking the town and features a spectacular sunset if you get there at the right time. Which is anywhere between about 9pm and midnight. Sunsets here last for hours at this time of year.

This morning, I drove back down to town and crossed the Yukon river on the free ferry that shuttles cars back and forth all day long. From the other side, I took a little morning drive along a small section of the Top of the World Highway, a road that goes all the way to Alaska and beyond. I stopped at a spot overlooking miles upon miles of rolling hills covered in forest, and sat down to eat my breakfast. It’s my most memorable breakfast this year. Just look at the view.

After this lazy of starts, I decided to find another spot with a view and sat there for another hour admiring the city from several hundred meters above it. I like the way you can see the two rivers meeting here, indicated by the abrupt change of colour in the water that looks a bit like a shadow.

After this, I drove back to town, took the ferry across again (both times, I was the only person on the ferry when it took me across, which made me feel a mix of privileged, childishly excited, and guilty. It’s just a small ferry, only capable of holding about 10 cars or less, but the environmentalist in me still wonders why they haven’t just built a bridge.

[fatrat66]

Okay Now I’m Actually in the Middle of Nowhere

I think this may be the most remote place I have ever been in my life. The only other place that comes close is Svalbard, but we never ventured far out of the town there. I am currently over 100km south of Dawson City, in the absolute wilderness of the Yukon. There’s nothing but trees in every direction as far as the eye can see. Oh, and a few gold mines.

I’m staying for a couple of nights with Becky and Eric, who have got last-minute jobs here at the gold mine. Becky is driving a haul truck, which entails 12 hours of driving back and forth between the diggers and the sluice machine. Perhaps I'll make a separate post later to explain the basics of gold digging, based on the rudimentary knowledge that I have picked up over the last 24 hours. Eric meanwhile is a mechanical engineer, who fixes the machinery and trucks, diggers and various other pieces of industrial equipment that they have here which break down now and then.

The two of them are both from Quebec, so have come a long way to be here, living a life that brings a certain selection of words to mind: it’s rough, hard, crazy, liberating, isolated, and WILD. There’s a makeshift camp set up here, with a few temporary buildings for lodging, a simple kitchen and bathroom facilities, and a bunch of sheds scattered around for people like Eric to work in. The mine itself is a short way away and I can hear the distant thrum and clang of heavy machinery as they dig up the earth, searching for that precious metal.

Last night, Becky and Eric introduced me to the cook, an equally rough-and-tumble Quebec man who has been there, done that and decided to live out here for a while, and all 4 of us went for a drive in Eric’s pickup truck. I’m not exaggerating when I say this was the wildest drive I have ever experienced in my life.

Eric, being a mechanical engineer, has a love of cars and engines and he knows what they are capable of. He’s also a ridiculously talented driver. I don’t know if you’ve ever had one of those rally driving experiences, where you pay a bloke to make you crap your pants in the front seat of a car as he tears down a muddy dirt road at ludicrous speeds, drifting around corners and hurling the vehicle over bumps and cracks that would surely destroy any “normal” city car. Let’s just say I don’t think any corporate rally experience in the world would be able to live up to the drive I had with Eric last night.

We drove for a further 100km deep into the rugged tree-lined hills of the Yukon south of Dawson, along dirt roads that only the most intrepid of gold diggers (and perhaps the occasional hunter) has ever been down. We passed by an old abandoned ambulance, now used as a secret hidey hole for other gold diggers. The guys stashed a few beers, some cannabis and 4 cigarettes inside the glove compartment, a gift for whoever next came along.

At one point, Eric and Becky pointed out an abandoned cabin in the woods, excitedly exclaiming that it probably belonged to an old prospector a hundred years ago, and the amount of effort it would have taken to bother to build so far out here was a sure indication that they must have struck a good pocket of gold. Otherwise, why bother building a cabin at all?

A few miles after this cabin, we reached our destination. It was literally the end of the road, which admittedly by this point, “road” is an optimistic definition. Their friend Michel, who I longed to meet, is a 68 year old gold digger, who apparently lives way out here by himself and is currently digging out his own personal mine. Sadly, it was a Friday night, and it happened to be the Friday of the month where he goes to town to spend a few days off. We must have missed him by just a couple of hours or so.

We hung around his cabin for a while anyway, and I excitedly checked out the diggers and equipment, which sat quiet and sleeping in the middle of a stream bed gully which is where he had been digging for the last few months. We also left a few more beers and an amusing note to say that we had stopped by. It was around 11:30, and the sky was just beginning to darken when we set off back and I was treated to another hair-raising rally adventure, this time in the dark and the rain, just to make things even more intense.

Sometime during all of this batshit insane driving, probably just after the 246th pothole we careened over, I remembered I had stashed my bags in the bed of the pickup truck (under the canopy). I wondered sadly whether my poor laptop will survive the ride, but fortunately my fears were unnecessary since here I am the morning after, typing up my blog. The laptop appears to be fine, and in fact, seems to be a bit cleaner, as all of the bumping and shaking dislodged a bunch of the dirt hiding under my keyboard. So all in all, the ride seems to have done both my laptop and myself a bit of good.

It’s impossible not to feel alive out here.

[fatrat66]

To Yukon and Back - Day 5

Drive: Marsh Lake – Fraser (Alaska Border) – 150km

I have basically been in the car all day today, but have seen some interesting sights. I left Marsh Lake this morning and immediately headed towards Whitehorse but detoured south to pay a visit to a tiny village called Fraser, which happens to be on the border to Alaska. I scooched quietly through the Canadian border and made it down to the ‘Welcome to Alaska sign’. I took a selfie and immediately turned around and drove back.

This was worthwhile for 2 reasons: one, selfies at signs like that are just what you do and I like having them. But number 2, the road down there was absolutely stunning. Probably the most beautiful bit of driving I have experienced on this entire trip so far. The road wound through huge, wide valleys with gorgeous snowy mountains and fjord-like summits on either side. I even passed through a very aien-looking landscape full of marshy, rocky, swampy shrublands. Very green and colourful. It looked how I would imagine if the moon had grass growing on it. It was very pretty.

 Drive: Fraser (Alaska Border) – Dawson City – 670km

Then I drove all the way up to Dawson, which is nearly 700km. I stopped very briefly in Whitehorse to pick up some supplies, including a small hatchet which I’d been meaning to buy ever since I left Fernie. I also got a couple of extra saucepans to use with my little camping stove.

I must admit, Whitehorse didn’t impress me much. I only passed through it briefly and was barely there for an hour, but I had no desire to stay longer than that. The weather hasn’t been great today, it’s quite dull, grey and damp, but I don’t think even the sun would be able to make that city look much more appealing. Being around so many people bothered me. I didn’t like the traffic, I wanted to be nowhere near people queuing up for beer, or groceries, I didn’t come on this trip to visit cities, so perhaps that is why Whitehorse didn’t grab me in the least.

I felt much better once I hit the road again and it wasn’t long before I was back to seeing perhaps one or two cars every hour as I made my way up towards Dawson. Yukon is full of trees. Like seriously, FULL of trees. I don’t think I’ve ever seen forests that stretch from horizon to horizon until these past couple of days. The air up here must be great. And I keep hearing David Attenborough in my mind talking about it. Ugh, it’s exactly where I wanna be right now, it’s so good.

I’m here now in Dawson City, which isn’t a city. It’s a town, like so many Canadian cities that clearly only have that title through some hilarious system that entitles them to be so. This place is smaller than Fernie, but it has so much personality. I love it. The boardwalk high street is ripped straight from a wild-west frontier, and the buildings are all painted with classic old fonts for the shop-fronts and it’s just brilliant.

I’m here to meet Becky, my old travelling friend whom I have met multiple times across the world. We first met in New Zealand on the dairy farm, then I visited her in Quebec when I first arrived in Canada 3 years ago, then she visited me in Fernie earlier this winter, and now I’m set to meet her in Dawson as she is apparently working on a gold mine. You couldn’t get more Yukon than that.

Right now, after 8 hours of driving, not much food, not much rest, I’m going to get myself some fish n chips, as I see there’s a place here that does it. It feels like I’m at the top of the world, but I’m not because this ridiculously sized country keeps on going, even after this. Just wow.

[fatrat66]

To Yukon and Back - Day 4

Drive: Dease Lake – Marsh Lake – 600km

Day 4, or 5? I can’t remember now… Its day 4! That’s right, I left Dease Lake this morning and within a couple of hours of driving, I crossed into the Yukon. I’ve made it! Let’s get the important stuff out of the way: my bear count is upto 5. I saw 2 today, one in BC, and one gangly-looking youngster sprang across the road in front of me barely five minutes after I had crossed the border into Yukon.

I’m recording this as I walk along a beach next to Marsh Lake which is where I’m camping tonight. I drove for a very long time today, and didn’t quite make it to Whitehorse, but that’s okay. This lake is rather beautiful, the sun is shining and I honestly can’t remember the last time I felt sand beneath my feet, or the sound of waves. Sadly, since you are reading this you won’t be able to hear the water, but I’ll show you a photo at least.

Today really has simply been a lot of driving. I filled up the car 4 times even though I was nowhere near empty each time. I was just paranoid about running out now that I’m in the Yukon. Should’ve bought a jerry can, but I forgot.

I visited a place called Watson Lake, which has a forest of signs. It features more signs than you can possibly imagine, people from all over the world have come to add their sign to these various posts and trees. The idea being that you leave your mark by putting a sign, whether it’s a license plate, a hand-written name tag, or numerous stolen signs from all sorts of towns and cities across the world. I saw one taken from Sparwood, which is the little town right next to Fernie, where I live.

Anyway, now I’m going to camp here tonight. Once I’m finished strolling along the beach, I think I’ll go back to my spot, light my fire and read my book before going to bed.

Tomorrow, I will pass through the capital of the Yukon, Whitehorse. And after that, it’s onwards to Dawson City, where my good friend Becky awaits.

[fatrat66]

Things I liked about today:

I saw some wildlife and trebled my bear count.

I went from having zero hot meals, to having 3 in one day.

I finished book 1 of The Witcher and now I’m onto number 2.

[fatrat66]

Campfire Cooking with Matt

Recipe 1

Campfire Potato

1.      Take 1 potato

2.      Wrap it in strong tin foil

3.      Throw it into your camp fire

4.      Leave it there until its cooked

5.      Eat it

6.      Optional: cut holes in it, and stuff with cheese. Throw back in fire for 2 mins to let cheese melt. Then eat it

Recipe 2

Smoky burrito

1.      Take 1 pre-cooked smoky or in my case European frankfurter style sausage

2.      Skewer it and hold it above fire for 5 mins, turning slowl to heat it up

3.      Take 1 tortilla wrap. Put sausage in wrap

4.      Cut cheese and place inside wrap

5.      Wrap whole thing in tin foil, pinch ends like a sweet wrapper.

6.      Put foil burrito into fire for 3 mins, then spin it around to cook the other side for 3 more mins so both sides of tortilla to get crispy and cheese to melt

7.      Take it out and eat it.

Follow this travel blog for more random recipes in the future.

[fatrat66]

To Yukon and Back - Day 3

Drive: Smithers – Dease Lake – 610km

I woke up in Smithers in the Mountainview Motel, my one last chance at comfort before I head into the wild. And it does feel wild now.

I’m on highway 37 heading north. It says it’s a highway but it’s a 2-lane narrow road. It’s beautiful. Lots of trees. Typical Canadian views, definitely feels like I’m in British Columbia. The highlight so far is I just saw a bear! A little black bear on the side of the road. I saw him from a distance and put on my hazard lights to warn the car behind me (which is rare, I have been driving for up to 30 minutes at a time without seeing another soul), and the bear sort of saw me coming, and stopped before crossing the road. He kinda flinched and ducked back into the trees as I drove past. I think that’s the second bear that I’ve seen in Canada, since arriving 3 years ago so I was rather excited.

Not long after leaving Smithers, I started to see quite a harrowing sight. There were barricades along the side of the highway blocking off numerous side roads that led off into what was presumably small communities and villages. Signs said things like “NO VISITORS” in ominous red paint. And there were blockades to go with the signs, such as concrete blocks, mounds of dirt piled up so you couldn’t drive past, some had small metal containers or skips resting in the middle of the road. It was genuinely like scenes from a zombie or post-apocalyptic movie. COVID-19 is still very much a big deal out here. The fear it has caused is real. It would likely rip through these small rural towns who have no hospital for miles around. The people here live very secluded lives. Visitors are not welcome, and I fully understand why.

This made me rather nervous and apprehensive afterwards. I started to ask myself should I be doing this? Am I allowed to be out here? I felt guilty, even though I wasn’t going into any of these villages, I was keeping to myself, but seeing the signs made me question everything. After about an hour of worrying, and continuing my drive deeper into the heart of northern BC I started to get paranoid about meeting angry locals who might aim shotguns at me for being here. I told myself I was overreacting, and eventually the paranoia subsided.

I have driven a long way today, over 600km, which eventually turned into utterly stunning views of Canadian forests and lakes. I’ve made it to a small town called Dease Lake. I’m at Waters Edge Campground, because I bottled it trying to find a wild camp spot, choosing instead to stay in this pleasant little place with a firepit and views of a lake.

I managed to buy a small camping stove, which turned out to be exactly the same as my friend Sarah’s. I kinda liked hers when I used it on our roadtrip last month, and have been looking for one just like it ever since I got back. I finally found it here in a shop in Dease Lake. So it’s a hot meal for me tonight!

This time tomorrow, I should be in the Yukon…

Wildlife report for day 3:

-        I saw a coyote loping along the side of the road

-        Several chipmunks

-        Several squirrels

-        2 bears! 2nd bear looked very cozy, lying on his belly chewing on some grass as I drove past

-        Saw a horse walking down the middle of the road. Had a bell on its neck.

[fatrat66]

To Yukon and Back - Day 2

Drive: McBride – Smithers – 580km

I awoke in the RV park just outside McBride in my tent unable to tell the time of day, because it was just as bright as it had been all night. There were approximately 87 mosquitos waiting for me between the inner and outer liners of my tent, having all gathered there throughout the night.

I had to be quick.

I packed up as much of my stuff as possible, into one bundle for easy carrying, then only when I was confident I could get everything into my car in one fast trip… I unzipped my tent.

I was wrong. There weren’t 87 mosquitos. There were about 14 million.

I spent the next few minutes flapping my arms while a swarm of blood sucking bastards tried to devour me. I also managed to tear down my tent, throw it into my car and drive away leaving a cloud of dust behind me. The flapping continued in the car, something that is not recommended while driving 100 down the highway. I pulled over, wound down all of my windows, and then drove off again, hoping to create enough of a gale inside the car to suck the little gits out. This dealt with most of them, after which I spent a few more minutes squishing any I could see in a napkin against my window. Again, not something I recommend while driving. I pulled into a gas station and finished off the stragglers before continuing my journey north and west along highway 16 towards Prince George, and eventually Smithers.

Suffice to say, I was pissed off at how my day started! But now that I’m in Smithers, my mood has increased considerably. I have decided to treat myself to a motel room for the night, and not only because I despise mosquitos, but I figured this is a holiday and I want to enjoy one bit of luxury before I leave civilization behind for the next week. I am typing this from the comfort of a king size bed. Heh.

I also have a balcony, and the view isn’t bad at all. I’m going to sit out here reading my book. 

Tomorrow, I’m aiming to get to see how close to the Yukon border I can get. But going to keep my mind open about stopping if I see a place that looks nice. I stocked up on podcasts and even bought an audiobook to keep me entertained. Tomorrow, Stephen Fry will read Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy to me. I’ve always meant to read it, but never got around to it!

If you recommend any other audiobooks, do let me know… I still have a lot of driving to do, and my Spotify music list isn’t going to cut it!

[fatrat66]

The glaciers at the Columbia Icefields near Jasper.