Seattle to Montana

I rejoined my brother Joe and my car in Seattle on Wednesday, November 17th.  I took the train from the airport to Joe's office downtown.  I arrived around 5:30, just as the workday ended.  Joe and his coworkers have been spending a lot of their after-work hours building a small bouldering wall at one end of the office space, and finally finished it just a few weeks ago.  Now they spend a little time at the end of each workday trying different climbing routes and working on their skills.  Here's a picture of Joe trying a particularly difficult move:

After two more days in Seattle, it was time for me to start driving east again.  The season's first snow storm was on its way, so early Saturday morning I loaded up my car and hit the road again.  I hit snow just an hour east of Seattle, and it followed me all across Washington and Idaho and into Montana.  For once I stayed with the interstate highways and didn't take any detours.  The snow was thick and heavy, so I couldn't see much of the scenery as I left the Cascades behind.  I'll have to come back someday to visit eastern Washington and Idaho. 

Coming into Montana I left the interstate and turned south to go stay a few days with some family friends in the area.  The less-plowed smaller roads gave me a chance to really test my car's snow driving skills, so I slammed on the brakes a few times to see how badly I would skid.  Something was wrong!  My brakes would shudder and clunk and kick  in a regular pattern as the car slowed down, then eventually settle down as I came to a stop.  But I didn't slide out or skid very much.  Figuring that perhaps a caliper was stuck or something, I drove the rest of the way more cautiously.  After dinner with George and Linda, my  Montana hosts, I called my car mechanic.  Mom answered, then at the mention of car brakes, passed the phone to Dad.  Halfway through my description of the strange brake behavior, Dad started laughing.  He said that I was feeling the anti-lock brakes!   This is the first car I've ever owned that has anti-lock brakes, and I didn't know what to expect!

The next day I woke up to six inches of fresh snow.  George found a pair of cross country skis in the garage that fit me, so he and I went skiing for the afternoon.  Here's a picture of George: 

It was still a few days until Thanksgiving, but the snow in the trees looked more like something from a Christmas movie!  Here I am, hopping through the powder on my skis:

The exercise and the beautiful scenery were a great change from the previous long day in the car.  It was also great to meet George and Linda, who I had only known as characters in the stories my parents told from the days before my brothers and I were born.  They told me some new stories, and had a photo on their wall of Mom and George running the Grandfather Mountain marathon in their 70's clothes!  What a great picture! 

The next day I packed up early and hit the road again.  The next snowstorm was on its way, and I had to change my driving route to avoid it.  Instead of heading straight south from Missoula, MT towards Yellowstone and Jackson Hole, I would go east to Billing, MT then head south through eastern Wyoming, avoiding high mountain passes and small, windy roads.  But first, I had to pass over the Continental Divide again, this time heading east:

Crossing it means that it's all downhill (more or less) from here to the Atlantic Ocean!  After a long day of out-running the snowstorm I spent a cold but clear night in Sheridan, Wyoming.  With the overnight low around -5F, I opted for a hotel.  Early the next day I was up again, warming my car up for the drive to Laramie, WY. 

Juneau Alaska Part 3: Sightseeing

After my trip to the Yukon I spent another four days in Juneau, visiting (mooching from) my relatives.  Maddy and I hiked up Mt. Roberts one afternoon.  We were hoping for a view looking down on Juneau, but instead this was all we could see:

But the hike was worth it even without a view.  It was strange to start out at sea-level with green trees and bare ground and be able to build a very nice snowman after only an hour of hiking.  Here's Maddy and our snowman friend:

The next day we went to Douglas Island at low tide and played catch on the rocky tidal flats while some seals swam around just offshore, then had a campfire on the beach to roast hotdogs and marshmallows for dinner.  Yum yum!  (Yum, but cold - when it gets dark at 4:30 and dips below freezing as soon as the sun goes down, a campfire becomes very necessary!  This was no tropical summertime evening on the beach...) I spent another afternoon visiting the tidal flats just north of Juneau, watching the sunset.  The view was unbelievable:

The water is the inside passage, and the mountains are on one of the outer islands.  Turning around to look back towards the mainland, this was the view:

I walked around the tidal flats until just before sunset:

Just like all of the places I have visited on this trip, I was sad to be leaving Juneau.  Just when I feel like I have started to really explore the area, it is time to leave!  But Alaska is also a turning point on this trip: the Yukon was my northern-most stop, and Juneau was the western-most.  From here on I'm heading south and east back across the continent, and towards the end of this particular adventure.  And I still don't know what's next!  Fortunately for me, the flight from Juneau back to Seattle included two dramatic landings at small towns along the southern Alaskan coast, with lots of turbulance and beautiful views of volcanic islands to keep me distracted from too many deep thoughts on the grand scheme of life and what my next steps should be.  Here's a picture of one of those volcanos:

Yukon Adventure Part 3: Haines Junciton and Haines

My drive from Whitehorse to Haines Junction followed the Alaskan Highway (which is known as the Alaska-Canadian Highway, or ALCAN Highway for the stretch in Canada).  This road comes with a phone-book sized guide that lists every intersection, landmark, store, hotel, and gas station along the roughly 1300-mile-long route.  The section I drove included a listing for a rest area.  I was quite excited about this, since I had left Whitehorse before breakfast and hadn't seen a store or gas station for well over an hour.  A pit-stop was becoming very necessary, and I was (foolishly) envisioning something with a heated building, running water, and maybe even a vending machine.  Instead, I found this:

In retrospect, it makes sense - in an area with so few people it isn't worth getting electricity or running water just for the few travelers that come through.  So after a rather chilly dash to use the facilities, I dug through the car for some breakfast snacks and headed on down the road. 

I arrived in Haines Junction shortly before lunchtime.  With two roads (the ALCAN, plus the road to Haines, Alaska) and a population of almost 600, this is a major town!  One of the three gas stations was open year-round, so I stopped to fill up and get a little advice.  The very friendly woman behind the counter gave me a run-down of the area, and recommended one of the two hotels.  She actually said that both were fine, but that the owner of the one hotel played on an her hockey team, so I should go there.  Walking around town the next morning I saw that indeed there are two hotels, both including restaurants, one additional restaurant, a school, and a giant hockey stadium.  That was Haines Junction.  Continuing north 80 miles on the ALCAN I went up to Burwash Landing (popluation 73), just to see the sights.  Burwash Landing was another stopover during the Yukon gold rush, with its big lake now frozen solid.  Here's a boat that has been pulled up on shore for the winter:

And here, in historic downtown, are some cabins from earlier settlers.  The cabin on stilts is for storing food.  The height keeps food safe from scavengers, and the cold climate takes care of any needed refrigeration.  

It was too cold to do much exploring on foot, but the scenery was amazing!  Burwash Landing was my final destination, as far north as I would go on this trip, so from there I turned around and headed back to Haines Junction.  I didn't quite make it to the Arctic Circle, but this is definitely the farthest north I have ever been!  Here's a view of sunset on distant mountains as I headed back south.  

I spent the night in Haines Junction, then in the morning left the ALCAN Highway, the Yukon, and finally, Canada on my way back to Haines, Alaska.  Here are a few pictures of that drive:

First, a lake with a mirrored surface, reflecting the clouded mountain above:

A little further south (and a little higher in elevation) another lake, frozen solid:

At this point, I decided to get out of the car and go for a short hike.  With no cell phone service, no other cars on the road, and no real idea of where I was, I put on my bear bells and hiked as far as I could while keeping my car in sight.  The trail I picked went up to the remains of an old glacier, which looked like a giant gravel pile.  The rocks were pushed along in front of the glacier, and were left behind when the glacier retreated.  Back in my car and further down the road I crossed the pass through the mountains:

The snow was deeper here, and there were no trees:

Coming through US customs and continuing down the pass, the high winds blew existing snow back up into the air.  The near-whiteout effect was really neat, especially when huge mountain peaks appeared to float in the clouds:

Down near sea-level the snow disappeared and I ran into an unexpected sight: hundreds of bald eagles hanging out along the shores of a river.  Apparently this is a known haven for the eagles.  This river has a late salmon-run, so the birds can come here to get fish late in the season.  This picture isn't the greatest, but if you look carefully you can see not only the two birds on the shore, but a few more perched in the trees in the background:

From here it was a short trip into Haines.  It was dark by the time I boarded the ferry and headed back to Juneau.  What can I say about my Yukon Adventure?  I really enjoyed it, and would love to come back sometime in the summer, to experience the long days and warmer temperatures.  But it was also neat to be there when all the tourists were gone, to meet the people who live year-round in these small, sparse communities, and to see the mountains covered in snow. 

Yukon Adventure Part 2: Whitehorse, YT

Driving out of Skagway I headed straight the valley to the pass and the Canadian border.  Here's the sign letting me know that I've officially entered Canada!

 

The actual customs office where I got to show my passport was a few more miles down the road.  I guess it's not really a surprise that there wasn't a line at the Canadian customs - I hadn't seen another car since I left Skagway an hour earlier.  This means that the customs agent was happy to chat with me, and recommended both a hotel and a restaurant in Whitehorse.  Yes, I said hotel!  I had decided that the Yukon in November was no place for my tent and sleeping bag.  With sunrise at around 8:30am and sunset at 4:00pm the nights were just too long and too cold for my usual travel methods.  Here's a picture of the sun going down as I drove towards Whitehorse:

That night I explored downtown Whitehorse.  With a population of only about 20,000 people it's hard to believe that this is not only the capital of the Yukon, but also that it contains two-thirds of the territory's entire population.  The remaining 10,000 people live in small towns and villages - the next biggest town has fewer than 1,500 people!  This gives Whitehorse a two-fold character, both small town and the biggest city in the region.  The customs agent could name the three most popular restaurants and all five hotel options, but downtown also has a walking trail, a tourism information center, and a vegan fair trade coffee shop.  Here's a picture of the welcome sign, which I found the following day on my morning walk:

Here's another view from my morning walk.  This is the Yukon River, famous for the gold rush days.  Prospectors who climbed over the pass from Skagway wintered in Whitehorse, then used local trees to build rafts to float downstream to the site of the famous gold strikes.

Back in downtown I ran into something unexpected: a log cabin sky-scraper!  This is one of the tallest buildings in Whitehorse.  If you look closely at the picture, you can see that it really is an apartment building.  Local residents store their bicycles on their log cabin porches!

After lunch I headed out of town and up into the hills for a little taste of adventure, Yukon style: Dog Sledding!  My Aunt Catherine had heard of a group that runs dog sledding teams, and I signed up to learn how to drive a sled for an afternoon.   It was a little early to be the height of dog sledding tourism season (I didn't know there WAS a dog sledding tourism season, but hey, it's true!) so I was the only person who had signed up for the day.  I later found out I was the only person that whole week!  But the woman in charge of the dog teams grabbed a friend who had never mushed dogs so that I would have a fellow novice along for the ride.  Then she gave me a sled, attached four dogs, showed me how to operate the brakes, and sent me on my way!  So much for training!  Here's a picture of me and my dogs:

I didn't know much about dog mushing, and thought that I might have to yell at the dogs to make them run, and that they might be unhappily resigned to a life of pulling sleds and humans.  Not at all!  These dogs love to run!  When my four were being attached to the sled, they were jumping and pulling and excited to be off, and all of the other dogs, the ones who weren't lucky enough to be picked for today's outing, were whining and barking out of disappointment.  I stood on the foot brake until all dogs were ready, then let go and went flying down the trail after my guide and her sled team.  Here's a picture I took once the dogs had calmed down a little and we were gliding along at a more even pace:

I was surprised at how quiet the dogs and sled were.  I heard birds calling from the trees as we went by, the swish of the sled runners and my foot brake disturbing them, but not enough to make them fly away.  Here we've stopped for a brief rest, but already the dogs are jumping and anxious to start running again!

Back at the dog shed we unhooked the dogs and went into the main lodge.  None of the buildings had electricity, so wood stoves and gas lights were the standard setup.  We visited for a while, and I was amazed at how tough these two women were.  Jocelyn, the dog musher, had run her dogs in the Quest the previous year.  The Quest is a race similar to the more famous Iditarod, but is less famous and more remote. It is 1000 miles long, but there are fewer checkpoints, resupply stops, and even fewer participants, which means that during the race you might go days without seeing anyone.  Jocelyn said she started talking to the dogs just to hear her own voice.  She proudly announced that she had been the winner of the Red Lantern, which is the prize reserved for the last finisher.  You could say that she got last place, but you could also say that she was the most determined - everyone behind her had dropped out and quit before the end.  Jocelyn's friend Kelly didn't have experience with dogs, but she was a mother of two who was building a log home by hand with her husband.  She spoke about trying to get finished before winter so they could move in.  I looked at the snow outside and thought "Winter is already here!" but not for these folks.  It was only mid-November, and would get a lot colder and a lot darker.  From their conversation I gathered that the people who choose to live in the Yukon love it here, and though the community is small and spread out, it is a real community, close-knit and intertwined.

That night I stayed in one of the cabins just off the main lodge.  It was small, but had everything I needed: wood stove, an oil lamp, a table, a bed, and a five-gallon water bottle that drained into a bucket.  The outhouse just was a short walk away.  Here's the cabin with its firewood stack:

And here's my oil lamp:

I woke up once during the night to stoke the fire, and noticed that it was light outside.   There was no moon and the sky was overcast, but the clouds were glowing and slowly changing color, from orange to a more green shade.  I'm not sure, but I think I was seeing the aurora borealis, the northern lights shining through the cloud cover.  I watched for a little bit, and listened to the perfect winter stillness, then went back to bed.  The next morning I said goodbye to Jocelyn and her dogs and headed north and west to Haines Junction.

Yukon Adventure Part 1: Skagway, Alaska

Not content with just showing me the amazing sights in the Juneau area, my aunt and uncle sent me on a four-day trip a little further north.  I borrowed their car, rode the ferry from Juneau to Skagway, drove from Skagway to Whitehorse (in Canada), then on to Haines Junction (also in Canada), then back to Haines (in Alaska) and finally, rode the ferry back to Juneau.  The days were packed full of adventure, so I'm dividing the trip into sections.  Here's a map of where I went:

The trip from Juneau to Skagway is actually entirely in Alaska; the border with Canada is about 30 miles inland from Skagway.  I caught the ferry out of Juneau at 8:00 am, shortly before dawn. Here's a picture of the ferry's wake as we left the docks in Juneau:

The ferry trip itself was amazing!  We were following the Inside Passage, which more or less follows the mainland coast of Alaska, but has huge mountain islands on the western side, protecting the shore from the open sea.  Here's a view to some of those islands as the sun comes up:

 And here's a view towards the mainland, with a glacier pouring out of the mountains:

And, just because I can't help myself, another view of the mountains to the west (I had about six hours on the ferry with nothing to do but take pictures - I think only showing four is an act of great restraint).

Arriving in Skagway I found a small town tucked in a valley.  It has a slightly touristy downtown (most of the stores are closed in November, but they cater to the cruise ships and other visitors in the summer months).  I didn't take any pictures of downtown, but on my way out of town I stopped by Dyea, the now-dead gold rush town one valley over.  The valley looks empty now:

 

But in 1898 Dyea was at the head of one of the major routes to the Yukon Gold Rush.  When I hiked around a little I found a few traces of the booming town that was here not too long ago. The cemetery is the only thing that is immediately recognizable: 

But if you look even closer (and have park signs to help you out) you can find evidence of the main street, docks, and warehouses.  Here's a picture of what's left of one of the big downtown warehouses:

Not much, huh?  But it really was a major gold rush town.  The Chilkoot Pass, which is up the valley from Dyea, was one of the big obstacles that hopeful prospectors had to cross on their way to the Yukon.  For example, it was an avalanche at Chilkoot Pass that filled most of the cemetery.  And the pass is the site of one of the most famous photos from the gold rush:

 All those ants are actually men hauling their equipment up the mountain.  The Canadian Mounties, whose customs station was just over the hill, required each person to have enough supplies (including food) for one entire year before they would grant admission to Canada.  That meant about 2000 lbs of supplies, and since the pass was too steep for horses or mules, each man carried is own equipment.  Most could carry about 50 lbs at a time, which meant that they made about 40 trips up the pass.  It took an entire day to hike up and then slide back down, so prospectors would spend over a month climbing the same hill over and over again.  Amazing!

A few years later a railroad was put through the next valley, and the trip to the Yukon got much easier.  Here's the White Pass Railroad:

From the railway station I headed up the pass (on a road, no trek up the mountain for me!) towards the Canadian border and the town of Whitehorse, Yukon!