What do you Want on Your Tombstone?

Many years ago, on our first trip West with the girls, LCR stopped the car a few miles outside of Badlands National Park.  He pointed out that there was no vehicle or building, nothing human or human-made, as far as we could see in any direction.  We took a picture.

Since then, that has happened to us many times, but never so much as up here in the north country.  The distances are long, the plains and mountains large, and humans are far fewer than anywhere we’ve ever been. 

A quick commentary on the Dempster Highway (so far):  Is it as rough as the Dalton Highway, which we drove in Alaska last year?  No.  But it is still a challenge, rocky and washboard-like, made of gravel or dirt, or sometimes all of the above at once.  We have heard dire tales of flat tires and we did actually get a hole in a tire which was fixed immediately, but it is impossible to tell whether it was from the rough roads or a piece of metal like a nail.  We’re trying to go slowly since it seems to us that other drivers are going way too fast for a road this rough.  But it is impossible to say if it is working to drive like old people (ahem!) or whether we’ve just had decent luck so far.  The hole we did get appeared in town last night, not far from a tire shop.  So we can’t complain.  So far.

The dirt and dust are constant and considerable.  I’m reminded of stories from the Dust Bowl, where the dust literally drove some people crazy because they could never keep ahead of it.  This is sort of like that but of course not to the same extreme.  It’s a good thing I’m not obsessive about cleaning, because I’d be unhappy here.  As it is, I’m merely annoyed.

You never fully appreciate the extent to which you are dependent on cellphone service and internet access, until those are removed.  For many days and nights up here, we have had a weak signal or no signal.  It’s interesting how many times a day I think, I’m going to look this up – and then I can’t! 

Since we had good cell service and internet in Whitehorse, we stayed for a few days to get some work done.  We were in a parking lot of sorts that is apparently used as an ad hoc park ‘n ride by carpoolers working in nearby towns.  There seems to be a gas station under construction, though we never saw any work done the entire time we were there, and there is a post office kiosk where people come by to get their mail.  We also took advantage of a food truck that parks in that space on weekdays.  It’s from the Chickadee Farm, a local organic grower, and offers Pad Thai and sushi.  Normally I’m not a huge fan of either, but I could not resist trying the candied arctic char rolls, and ended up getting them several times because they were delicious.  The truck’s driver and cook was named Aki.  He said he is from Japan and has been in this country for 7 years.  He lives in a cabin in the woods with his partner, and says in winter he is holed up in silence, so when he’s running the truck he likes to get to know everybody.  He was cheery and talkative but a good listener too, full of questions.  One local woman, hearing our story, lamented that we should be staying in a local wilderness area, but we thought the proximity to Whitehorse and the chance to meet Aki more than made up for less scenery.

There was an electrical issue with our trailer, so we added to our list of mechanics Alex from Whitehorse.  He fixed the problem quickly. 

On our way north from Whitehorse, sometime after the turnoff to the Dempster, we lost our fresh water.  The bumpy roads somehow triggered the faucet and the freshwater tank emptied into the grey water tank, which overflowed, causing minor flooding in the bathroom and front of the trailer.  Fortunately it did not reach to the back where the computer equipment might have gotten wet.  Also fortunately, we have a three-gallon emergency water container with a tap that sits nicely next to the sink.  We have learned tricks to conserve water so we weren’t really worried, but that’s one more thing that is few and far between here – sources of drinkable water.  We have bought a filter gadget to use in case we ever have to rely on a river or stream, but it did not come to that.  This time! 

I admit I had never heard of Tombstone Territorial Park before this trip.  It’s simply huge, a mountainous area set aside around the time of the building of the Dempster.  The resident First Nation tribes and some environmental groups were concerned that the construction of the road might bring development that would damage the mountain area that is home to so many animals and so much rich plant life.  The visitors’ center is only about 10 years old.  The Dempster was completed in 1979, but the road between Inuvik and Tuk, right up to the Arctic Ocean, was only finished in 2017. 

We chose to stay outside of the campground at Tombstone, because there was no electricity or water and thus no services we needed.  There is a tiny outbuilding at the entrance to the campground with a WiFi symbol.  People can be seen at the picnic table next to that building and on rocks placed around it, on their phones.  I managed to get a few short texts out but we never did get a call through.  We stayed until Wednesday morning because LCR had an important phone meeting, but that too did not happen.  Our “campsite” was in an area beyond the parking lot to the visitors’ center.  As in the rest of Yukon, nobody seemed to mind, and we were far from the only campers taking advantage of that space.

I did not get a good picture of Tombstone Mountain, the highest mountain in the area, after which the park is named.  I have seen photos of it, and it doesn’t look much like a tombstone to me, just like a huge mountain with two peaks.  It seems the best views of it are found on a guided hike which takes 3 hours.  We started out with the group on that hike, but soon found it was pretty much straight uphill, and instead opted to take photos from where we were.  We prefer shorter, more level hikes, and we took the trail to the beaver pond, which winds along and across the Klondike River to a huge are where the beavers have lived and built their dams for centuries.  We did not see any beavers or other animals, but the plant life is fantastic.  Who knew they had so many and so beautiful plants and flowers growing in this chilly climate?

On the road going north, the traffic was much more sparse, especially once we turned off onto the Dempster Highway.  We saw a variety of rigs and people, the strangest being a man who seems to be biking this road, and I don’t mean on a Harley!  He has saddlebags and an egg-shaped trailer in which he keeps a tent, but by any standards he is traveling extremely light.  I haven’t yet been able to ask him where he’s from and how far he’s going. 

I am also amazed at the number of dogs I see among our fellow travelers.  This dog has, in my opinion, the best life of all – he gets to do road trips and be with his favorite person.  I watched this man get ready to take off, carefully cleaning the dog’s goggles on his shirt.  I did not get a chance to talk to him because someone else had his attention.  I would like to know whether he had to train the dog to ride like that, or if it came naturally.   Our own dogs have both been good travelers, but I’ve no idea if they would take to a motorcycle.  It would be a concern of mine to give a dog enough time to run around and just be a dog, since many places will not allow pets, but the dogs I’ve seen seem happy with their lot, ready to jump back in the truck after a break. 

On the day before we left, the visitors’ center served fresh bannock with jam for everyone.  I had never heard of bannock.  It’s a Scottish term for a type of biscuit, that Native American and Canadian tribes have made into a traditional food.  We’ve had fry bread in Chicago and out West, so we knew it would be delicious, which it was.  The visitors’ center staff made plenty so LCR took a few to go.  Upon leaving, another guest suggested we get a guidebook, a pamphlet called the Dempster Highway Travelogue.  These booklets are available for loan at the visitors’ center.  People take them north on the road, then return them, dropping them off on the way back.  This turned out to be an excellent resource when GPS and other internet resources were not available.  The book uses the mile markers on the highway to pinpoint locations. 

We heard from other travelers coming back from up north that the section of road we had just traveled, from the turnoff to north Tombstone, was the roughest, and so far that seems to be true.  The road from Tombstone was not as bad and we made decent time (though still slower than other drivers) to Eagle Plains.  This stop featured a gas station, hotel, a restaurant, and campground, all very basic, but best of all, they had water for no fee, which by then we really needed.  We stayed the night in their campground because when we came in they were out of gas!  I imagine quite a few of our fellow travelers who stayed the night were in the same situation, since this is the only gas station for hundreds of miles in any direction.  Some of the motorcycle riders I overheard were especially concerned about the urgent need for fuel.  We do carry emergency gas, but we want to save that for real necessity situations, and waiting a few more hours didn’t seem that bad.

The river that runs along the highway north of Eagle Plains, and the rocky riverbanks, are a brilliant orange color.  This is due to iron oxide in the surrounding rocks.  Also brilliantly colored are the hills in that area.  It’s some kind of local vegetation, and it reminds me of the Sting song, “Fields of Gold.”  Sometimes it looks like the gold is running in rivers down the hillsides.  There is a huge herd of caribou in these mountains, which are protected except for First Nation subsistence hunters, who are preserving their traditional way of life.  However, it is the wrong season so we did not see any caribou.  Apparently the lichens we saw carpeting the hillsides are their favorite food. 

Between Tombstone and Eagle Plains, we stopped at a high mountain pass with a panoramic view of the plain and surrounding mountains on all sides.  We stayed the night at this amazing vantage point, with the company of a few other rigs from time to time and a group of local kids flying a drone. 

The ferry crossing the Peel River just west of Fort McPherson seems tiny to us.  We were the only vehicle crossing at that time, but we weren’t sure how many others would have fit anyway.  The man manning the ferry was talkative and friendly and said he had never seen anyone from Chicago cross there before.  He asked how we liked the area, especially the mosquitos, and we said it was beautiful and the mosquitos were fun!

One of the guides at the Tombstone visitors’ center, a young woman of local Gwich’in heritage, had suggested we look up the fish camp at Fort McPherson.  As small a town as Fort McPherson is, we had trouble locating it, when we came upon a Mountie.  We asked about the camp and he said “Follow me,” and led us through town.  He showed us a handmade sign that had fallen over, turned it right and showed us where to turn. 

The camp is a collection of wooden shelters with tarps and some tents with floors.  The fish is cut and cleaned, then hung up to dry.  Some narrow strips of dried fish are served as appetizers, then dried and cooked fish are served with pickles and locally picked blueberries.  To me it was especially fun eavesdropping on the locals as they discussed politics.  They were interested not in national or international politicians, but their tribal leaders.  One woman, who turned out to be the manager of the camp, had just come from an administrative meeting.  She said, “I had the pants on, and I was ready to fight!”  It sounded like she was against a newer group that she felt was taking too much authority and did not know enough about local issues.

The dried fish, both snacks and larger pieces, was delicious.  We were also served whitefish eggs (caviar) which were mixed with the blueberries.  Plastic forks and a few pieces of silverware were provided, but it was actually easier to eat with our fingers.  It was windy and barely 60 F, but one of the men pronounced it “good weather” for the fish camp.  When we were done with a leisurely meal, we asked what was owed and were told it was a “donation” for as much as we liked!  How can you value the experience of a window into another culture?  The food was almost an afterthought, a bonus!

 

Church and cemetery in Fort McPherson, NWT

Gas prices:  $2.38/l in Eagle Plains, YT, which works out to $6.49/gal US.  I imagine it will get higher as we continue north.

Signage:  These signs are not meant to be funny.  They are to show that we truly are in a different world up here!

 

On the other hand, sometimes it feels as if we never left: