After such a short stretch on the Alcan (Watson Lake to Whitehorse), we nonetheless departed it again to head north. North, in this case, is going toward one of the northern-most roads in North America. The Klondike highway carries us away from Whitehorse and up toward Dawson, where we will spend the following weekend getting ready for THE road to the north, the Dempster Highway. The only North American road that goes farther north is the Dalton highway in Alaska, up to Prudhoe Bay. But more about all that later on.

Leaving Whitehorse, the Klondike passes nearby the Yukon Wildlife Sanctuary, just off of Tahkini Road. This is a pleasant little diversion, where you can get up close to many species you might otherwise miss, or see only at a great distance. It’s actually a kind of a zoo, but with 36 hectares just for the two moose on exhibit, it’s more like a fenced safari area. There’s a three-mile walking trail that goes all around the enclosures, and it’s a very nice walk (we preferred it to the bus-tour). Yeah, the animals aren’t “wild”, and it’s hard to take a picture without a fence showing – but we got pretty close and were able to see details we’d never observe with chance spottings in the wild.

Our first camp along the Klondike was at Twin Lakes, a pair of small lakes that bracket the highway. Their islands and serpentine shores are complimented by varying bottom colors – a well-deserved reputation for unusual beauty makes them perfect for exploring by kayak. We camped at the western lake and took a look around. After the preceding days of clouds and rain, the sun had decided to shine all the way to the ground, delivering a stunning afternoon. The lake turned to a glistening mirror, and we couldn’t resist hauling out Bote and paddling around the nearby islands.

Looking back at Howie and camp from the near island.

Once again, we found and investigated a large beaver mound. These things are just amazing – you have to remember that each and every twig, branch, and log was chewed off and dragged to the mound, then stuck in place with mud and rocks. No wonder the beavers are nicknamed “master engineers” of the wild. We didn’t see any beavers here, so we aren’t sure if the mound is occupied or not. But we suspect they might just be a little too secretive for our paddling and chattering (Oh look!, What’s that!, Over there!).

With the incredibly long daylight hours (4AM – 11PM), we were tempted to stay out on the water way past bedtime. But we are SO responsible and disciplined (well, sometimes). We packed up Bote, had some dinner, watched the magpies raid the camp tables, and just gazed out across the lake. Then we finally got around to going to bed.

The next morning, there were only blue skies and puffy cumulus, with not a breath of air. The mirror lake was postcard-perfect for a neighboring camper rowing across the water. It was our neighbor, and he pulled up at the nearby dock. He was a taciturn sort, and had not previously spoken to me at all, just going about his own business. His dog came over to me for a pet and a scratch, and the boatman looked over at us with just a touch of a smile, a slight twinkle in his eye. “Pretty nice morning” he commented. I couldn’t agree more.

We did our pre-flight walk-around, fired up, and rolled further northward on the Klondike Highway. At this point, we began to see some of the road characteristics that we’d been reading about. Rough, ripply asphalt, poorly-patched potholes, abrupt frost-heaves, and occasional LONG stretches of dirt, gravel, or seriously deteriorated asphalt (the worst of them all). All annoying for sure, but also all part of the admission fee, to see some of the wildest scenery on the continent.

Here’s a typical group of North-bound vehicles all caught together due to a construction wait. This section of road had been wetted down (for dust suppression I presume) – maybe a little too much. We were all slithering around a bit, and a big fifth wheel up ahead seemed to have a little trouble on one of the steep grades.

We had a pretty easy time getting past the graders here – sometimes it’s quite a bit more snug.

Sometimes we’ll come upon some less-conventional vehicles, always a standout amongst the strings of RV’s and trucks. And every single one (that we’ve talked to) is going as far, or farther, than we are.

Yukon Territory has a total population of about 37,000 souls – not a great revenue base for government-sponsored facilities. Yet the YTG (Yukon Territorial Government) does pretty well, in my opinion, providing a solid (year-round) transportation infrastructure, basic and frequent rest stops, and very pleasant and well-chosen camp grounds. We’re convinced these YTG camps are one of the best deals going, at CA$12 a night or CA$50/yr. (I’m going to discuss this more in a future post dedicated to camping.)

The YTG also finds funding to put up information placards here and there. When we stopped for a quick snack at what was marked “Rest Area”, we found a preserved old Roadhouse to snoop around. This was just down the road from Five Finger Rapids on the Stewart River.

It’s very difficult to describe the sense of beauty and awe that we experience in a view like the one below. We travel for mile upon mile of dense forest, much of the time blocking our view of anything except the road and distant horizon. And then bang!, we’re up on a mountainside, looking down at a vast expanse of the forest that’s been up against our nose for the last hour. And everywhere we look, absolutely everywhere in any direction – – – is wild, uninhabited forest, as far as we can see. We have never in our lives been anywhere with so much un-peopled land. It is truly impressive.

On and on up the Klondike we went, with the roadway good and bad but never terrible.  Our next camp was at Moose Creek. We had a forested site, but there was a fine trail leading down Moose Creek and ending up at the confluence with the Stewart River. Beautiful day for pix.

On the return trail, we and this ruffed grouse surprised each other. But it never flew away – it just crouched low and ran quickly through the underbrush, like a cross between a rabbit and a quail.

We made our final (Dawson) camp at Klondike River camp, which is about ten miles outside of town (east). Yet another pleasant forest camp courtesy YTG, albeit without a water-front campsite this time. Boy are we spoiled.

We un-hooked Ralph, wiped off some of the layer of dried scum collected from the raunchy road sections, and drove up into town for a look.

At first blush, Dawson looks like a “working” town, with lots of industrial-grade buildings and vehicles apparent while approaching from the east. But getting into the main-drag area, some character and charm begin to show. Here’s a couple of snips from Front Street, with the Yukon River behind the camera.

The visitor center is a treasure trove of information, as usual. What’s more, there are two visitor centers, one sponsored by Yukon Territory and one by Northwest Territory, right across the street from each other. We started digging, and came up with all kinds of info. I’ll have more on Dawson in my next post.

Up to now, I’ve been showing an overall map of our position on our route. But going forward, we’ll be spending the next two months in the upper third of that map. So for future posts, I’ll show only the northern portion, for a little bit better detail. I’ve also added a possible side-trip up the Dalton highway pipeline road to Prudhoe Bay (Deadhorse). But that’s 500 miles of dirt road, and we haven’t even run the Dempster yet. So it’s a definite maybe.

• Miles driven (Howie): 3,690
• Miles driven (Ralph): 946
• Days traveling: 36
• Miles from home: 2,728