Thursday June 18, 1998 - Yukon

Squanga Lake - sunny and hot

In the morning Ray and Laurena left the campground before me and I did not meet them again on the road. I did see them stopped at a rest area just before the Stewart-Cassiar joined the Alaska Highway in the Yukon Territory, but I did not stop there myself. I wished I had, I was missing their company. I was planning to head as far north as Dawson City which meant travelling through Whitehorse, but I went the other way on the Alaska Highway to see the Watson Lake Signpost Forest. I got gas and tried to use a car wash but I didn't really understand how it worked so I only got a partial carwash. Then I turned back and headed toward Whitehorse.

The Alaska Highway is paved so that was a treat to finally get off the dust and mud of the Stewart-Cassiar. It is paved, straight, flat, and goes on forever through boreal forest with mountains in the distance. Kind of boring actually. There are tons of motor homes, campers and whatnot on the road, with licence plates from all over, mostly the US. The camps are full of them, and generally they are not terribly sociable. There was an Austrian couple that I met at Kinaskan Lake and Boya Lake, and I met them again at Rancheria Falls on the Alaska Highway.

I was going to stop at the Teslin Lake campground, but it was empty and I wasn't really ready to stop. Squanga Lake was the next campground, I stopped there. It was just 10 sites close to the highway, not much to speak of but it was time to stop. In the campsite next to me was a young Japanese cyclist who is taking a year and a half to cycle from Anchorage Alaska to the southern tip of South America! He has a tiny guitar that looks almost like a dulcimer but sounds like a soft guitar.  He didn't speak much English though. There are fish in the lake so I might practice casting tomorrow.

Art and Ginger at Avondale Sky

On Saturday I went to the Art Fair and Ginger Fest at Avondale Sky Winery. Had a ginger ice cream cone and walked around looking at art, crafts and craft foods (baked goods, chocolate, etc.).

Avondale Sky Winery

The last stall I came to was the art of a young man, Tylor McNeil, who was painting while selling prints of his art. When I arrived at his stall he got up and came around from behind his table to introduce himself, telling me all of the places he has lived so far and where he intends to live next. Then he started explaining his art, both his process and his subject matter. He told me the stories behind some of his prints. I asked a few questions and thanked him for telling me all this and then wandered off to find the friend I had come with and listen to some music.

I was really struck by his stories and a couple of his paintings. My friend and I decided that we had seen all there was to see and had no desire to stay any longer so I went back to the young man's stall and bought the two prints that had most appealed to me.

Letting Go - Tylor McNeil

The first one is called "Letting Go". It is the fourth in a series about his mother. The series is about the artist's coming to terms with his mother's alcoholism, and also about his remembrance of time spent in the garden with his mother when he was younger.

The Ghost of You - Tylor McNeil

The second one is called "The Ghost of You". The artist's father is dead now but he used to enjoy deer hunting. There are several prints in this series about his father as well, but I thought this one was the most haunting. My friend agreed, she was not particularly taken with the floral paintings (normally I am not either), but this one she said she would have bought too knowing nothing of the young man or his stories.

If I had come to his stall and he had just continued to paint or had just said something banal about his art prints, I don't think I would have bought either print. It was the stories he told about the prints that hooked me. When I look at the pictures I remember the stories and I feel a little of the emotion that must have gone into creating them.

Wednesday June 17, 1998 - Stewart-Cassiar

Boya Lake - sunny with cloudy periods

We moved to different campsites, picking better ones than the night before. I went swimming off the dock in the lake, it was very very cold but I got my hair washed. The water is so clear and turquoise! The park operator said it was a limestone lake and that is why there are no mosquitoes or biting flies. But there are loons and dragon flies.

Boya Lake, after the rain

There was a bit of rain but it dried very quickly. We are now on the Liard Plain, a glaciated terrain that is quite dry.  The sun sets just after 10 pm and rises at 5 am but it never gets fully dark now, the light just dims  around 1 - 3 am.

Sparky prefers big sticks

Sparky is a cockapoo (cocker spaniel/toy poodle cross) who loves to swim and chase sticks. Not just little sticks but big ones, some around 6 feet long! Ray and Laurena had to keep him leashed when we camped on the Stikine or he would have jumped in and been washed away. But here it was very entertaining watching him swim after sticks in the lake.

I was loaned a fishing rod for this trip so Ray spent some time showing me how to cast and how to untangle the line when it backlashed. He gave me a swivel to snap lures onto. Ray said I could expect to spend a few hours just getting used to it. He said that the reel on this rod was a bit tricky, and I do seem to spend a large amount of time untangling the line, compared to actually fishing. Fishermen here talk a lot about Grayling. I have no idea what that is, but that's what is in most streams.

Ray and Laurena are both on their second marriages, Ray has four kids the oldest of whom is 46. He had an operation to remove half his lung (cancer due to smoking) which slows him down a bit but they are both quite active and he is very outgoing and chats with everybody.

Tuesday June 16, 1998 - Stewart-Cassiar

Tuya River from Telegraph Creek road

Boya Lake - sunny and windy

The drive back to Dease Lake was uneventful. From Telegraph Creek to the Stewart-Cassiar turnoff is about 115 km but since it is a dirt road with steep up and down sections, you have to drive very slowly for half of that distance.

Tall skinny trees on the Stewart-Cassiar

At one point I stopped and saw a bear, but as soon as the bear saw me it disappeared into the woods. We stopped for lunch in a grove of cottonwoods that broke the wind a bit, and threw sticks for Sparky. Yohan is too old for chasing sticks.

Rest break on the Stewart-Cassiar

Ray suggested that maybe the burnt out fuse for the dome light was causing my radio not to work so in Dease Lake I stopped in at an auto repair place and bought some fuses and Ray was right, the new dome light fuse fixed my radio.

Dease Lake was having a selective power outage, one of the two gas stations there had no power to operate the gas pumps and there were line-ups at the other station with only one girl to run the place. She could only deal in cash, she couldn't take credit cards. The grocery store had some lights out and some cash registers out. One of the registers stopped while I was waiting to talk to the cashier.

Another time on the Stewart-Cassiar we stopped to photograph some mountain sheep. They were completely unafraid, allowing us to come right up to them.

The campground at Boya Lake was beautiful. The water was a lovely turquoise blue and there were no mosquitoes! We walked around with the dogs, had beer after supper and we agreed that we would spend another day here, it was so nice. And I was enjoying the company.

Beautiful turquoise Boya Lake, impossible to capture the colour!

Monday June 15, 1998 - Telegraph Creek

Kinaskan Lake in the morning

Glenora - mixed sun and cloud

From Kinaskan Lake I continued north on the Stewart-Cassiar and crossed the Stikine River. I had heard of this river many years ago and it was one of the places I really wanted to see.

At the bridge across the Stikine

I was still hesitant about going into Telegraph Creek so I drove to Dease Lake which is just past the turnoff for Telegraph Creek. I asked about the road into Telegraph Creek at the gas station and decided to chance it. I had checked the truck fuses in case that was what was wrong with the radio, but it wasn't. The dome light was also not working and it turned out its fuse was burned out, but the radio fuse was fine.

Ray and Laurena on the road to Telegraph Creek

Shortly after turning off onto the Telegraph Creek Road I ran into Ray and Laurena again. They suggested that we travel together which I quickly agreed to, it seemed less scary with company. We took numerous photo breaks along the way, letting the dogs, Yohan and Sparky, out on leash.

Poor old Yohan, I didn't know at the time but he probably had liver cancer and was not a well dog. But he was a good road tripper

Telegraph Creek is on the Stikine River which goes from central northern BC to the coast, through part of the Alaska Panhandle. Telegraph Creek is probably about three quarters of the way from the Stewart-Cassiar to the Alaska border.

My truck by the Tuya River canyon

Tuya River canyon

The Stikine Canyon is sometimes likened to the Grand Canyon, parts of it are quite spectacular. The road goes across a plateau for a short distance before descending into the Tuya River canyon (20% grade with switchbacks). then it goes up again and down to the Tahltan River at Eagle Rock, which marks the junction of the Tahltan and Stikine Rivers. Then it goes up again and down to the Stikine River.

Eagle Rock

Eagle Rock is a large rockface that appears to bear the image of an eagle with outspread wings in the lava tube rock. There are fabulous views all the way along, lava rock faces, narrow gorges and distant mountains. The road is very narrow, not wide enough for two-way traffic. There are a few pull-outs in case you meet another vehicle going the other way, but it means that someone has to back up quite a ways when that happens. Most of the traffic on that road is First Nations trucks travelling at speed. The road is steep and very slippery, so as a tourist I was driving very slowly.

Stikine canyon

At one point the road is on a narrow ridge between the Tahltan and Stikine River canyons; the ridge was maybe twice the road with wide and straight down on either side. Half I didn't dare look out the window and half I wanted to see the fabulous view.

Tahltan smokehouses

The Tahltan Indian Reserve has fish nets on the Stikine and vertical pole barns which are used as smokehouses for the salmon they catch there. We reached Telegraph Creek a short distance later on the bank of the Stikine in time for supper at the Riversong Cafe.

Riversong Cafe in Telegraph Creek

Ashley, the son of the proprietor told us of forestry campsites a little further down the road near Glenora and recommended one in particular. The Cafe was very homey and set in a general store that carries a little bit of everything. We chatted with some other people there as well. After supper we headed down the road to the recommended campsite. It was right on the bank of the Stikine, a flat gravel area in the river itself. Laurena got out some beer and we sat in our camp chairs on the Stikine.

I had always wanted to see the Stikine, and now here I was, sitting on the riverbed having a beer at sunset.

Glenora campsite on the Stikine riverbed

Today

The other day I went out my front door (I usually go out the back door) and there was a note under a brick on the porch that apparently had been there for a couple of days. It was from a man who way back when had been a Big Brother to my eldest son when he was just a kid; the fellow was in town and had talked to someone who knew me and knew that I was still in my old house (or rather, had moved back into my old house), and he thought it would be interesting to make contact.

I phoned him. What he was really hoping for was to make contact with my son but that was not possible, so he settled for tea with me instead. He came by yesterday morning and we had quite a lovely time catching up on 33 years. He was a young man then, maybe in his 20s, and now he was in his 50s and thinking about retiring. He had been all over the place—England, California, Vietnam—to name a few of the places he talked about, and lived a very interesting life.

He was trying to cram in a lot of visiting in a very short time so he had to leave for a lunch date, but he gave me a couple of daylilies as a parting gift. I will have to find a couple of spots for them in my backyard, they are different varieties from what I have already. I look forward to seeing them bloom.

It was such an interesting conversation, I hope we are able to stay in touch.

Sunday June 14, 1998 - Stewart-Cassiar

The Bear Glacier near Stewart

Kinaskan Lake - rainy

The Stewart-Cassiar Highway does not go to Stewart (or Cassiar for that matter) but you have to turn off the highway to go to Stewart. On the way you pass a glacier on the far side of the river. It is the Bear Glacier and it is quite blue. Stewart is on the coast and it is also on the Alaska border, immediately across the border is the town of Hyder. I didn't plan to spend any time there but I did cross the border and drive through Hyder and then back to Stewart again. I think I spent all of 15 minutes between border crossings. There was a rodeo going on in Stewart, I think the horses in the trailer were headed to the rodeo because later in the day I saw their truck in town.

My truck on the muddy Stewart-Cassiar

It was a dismal day. Leaving Stewart the radio in my truck stopped working. I tried to set up my portable CD player but couldn't get it going either. The Stewart-Cassiar highway was only partially paved and I spent most of the day driving on the muddy parts. I stopped at a rest area to make some lunch in the rain. There was a a big RV already there. When I pulled into the rest area a young couple came out of the RV. They were stopped there because a few days ago they got two flat tires on their rig and had to wait for new tires to be delivered, Monday night at the earliest. They were driving from Arizona to Alaska. At least they had all the comforts of a big RV while they waited for their tires, but every time a vehicle pulled into the rest area they came out to socialize.

Shortly after I arrived at the rest area a camper truck that I had passed earlier in the mud stopped in. Ray and Laurena and their little dog Sparky were travelling to Alaska from Victoria. After a short time socializing with the folks from the RV and the camper I headed out down the road. In the photo above I think the camper appears in the distance on the highway, you can just make it out if you expand the photo.

In the evening I pulled into the Kinaskan Lake campground and Ray and Laurena arrived a short time later and pulled into the site next to mine. We chatted about travelling and dogs and so forth and it looked like we were travelling the same direction for awhile. They were talking about taking a side trip to Telegraph Creek. I also was interested in going there. They had talked to a man earlier in the day who had said that the road into Telegraph Creek was very steep and dangerous which kind of worried me, I didn't really want to tackle it on my own.

Kinaskan Lake

The rain finally let up and it was a pleasant clear evening.

Saturday June 13, 1998 - Stewart-Cassiar Highway

The Nisga'a lava bed

Cloudy day

I left Prudhomme Lake as early as I could and drove to Terrace, then up to the Nisga'a Lava Beds. This is a lava flow from a few hundred years ago before Europeans arrived in the mountains. It is a large area that covers some former Nisga'a villages, it was eerie to think about how this lava flowed over the land and destroyed existing villages. Today very little grows on the lava bed, it is still pretty barren. There is lava gravel and a few tiny trees and a lot of yellow lichen.

I wanted to see this lava bed because years ago when I lived in Ottawa I went to a talk by a Nisga'a chief about the land claim treaty talks being conducted then. He said that this lava bed was an important piece of evidence in the Nisga'a land claim because they had oral stories handed down about how this lava bed was created, the first time that oral stories were counted as evidence of a claim. In the story, the lava flow was retribution for some young Nisga'a boys mistreating salmon in the river.

Kitwanga totems

After walking around there a bit I drove back to Terrace, bought gas and headed for Kitwanga, on the Stewart-Cassiar highway (Highway 37). This highway goes from Terrace to the Alaska Highway in the Yukon. It does not start in Stewart or go to Cassiar, in fact you can't drive to Cassiar now at all. But that is what they call this road.

Kitwanga totems

I have been reading Emily Carr's journals and I know that she spent time in Kitwanga and Kitwancool drawing and painting the totem poles there. Most of the poles have been moved to a single location in a field by the road. When I got there the light was not great but I tried to photograph them anyway.

Kitwancool totem painted by Emily Carr: "the Totem Mother"

I have become quite familiar with Carr's paintings and thought I recognized some of the totems. There was a First Nations fort on a hilltop which was similar to old pioneer forts. the campground there was just a big empty yard with picnic tables and gravel which didn't really appeal to me so I continued driving up the road until I found a small lake I could park by. There was a truck with a big horse trailer already parked there but it was late and no one was about. I could hear the horses in their trailer snorting. When I went to bed it was drizzling out.

More Kitwancool totems

Friday June 12, 1998 - Prince Rupert

Cow Bay in Prince Rupert, accordion player

Prudhomme Lake - sunny and warm, clouding over

I got off the ferry from Haida Gwaii in the early morning and spent the whole day in Prince Rupert. I got my flat tire fixed and some camera film developed and picked up groceries, ice, gas and other things for the trip.

When I was feeding Yohan at the fery terminal some dog walkers stopped to chat and told me about the Sea Fest which was going on in the town. They told me about how they were bringing back Charlie Currie's tow boat, the CRC. Later at the Northwest BC Museum I saw a special display of photographs of Charlie and his boat, and read a little of his history. He was a local pioneer who died in his 90s in the spring of 1997, a year ago. He had sold his boat when he could no longer run it and after he died the new owner donated it to the city. Later at the waterfront area of Cow Bay a hardware store guy told me what a great guy Charlie was, how he knew everything rleated to the waterfront and started regular publick pancake breakfasts and so forth.

There was a born-again alcoholic playing an accordion on the street corner with an open suitcase for donations. I photographed a deer walking around in town.

Prince Rupert library, car passed just as I was snapping a photo

I spent some time at the library writing emails on the computer and then finally left town for the Prudhomme Lake campground that I had stayed at before. It was crowded and noisy. It rained and I couldn't get a fire going. The park operators came by to collect the fee and helped me get a fire going. They gave me some dry paper and chopped some wood and reset the fire for me. Wow!

Thursday June 11, 1998 - Queen of Prince Rupert

Moresby Mountain from Mosquito Lake

Queen of Prince Rupert ferry - sunny and warm

I spent the night at Gray Bay and had a leisurely breakfast in the morning. Two people from forestry, a man and a woman, came by to clean up the site and while they were there I noticed that my truck had a flat tire, probably from the rough driving the day before. The guy helped me change the tire. The spare tire was low on air but the guy seemed to think it would be OK, so I decided not to cut short my trip. I drove the logging roads to Skidegate Lake, Mosquito Lake and Moresby Camp, then back to Sandspit and the ferry terminal.

Roadside deer

Another tiny deer, they're everywhere

There was lots of wildlife: eagles, ravens and the tiny island deer, the size of dogs. Also lots of no-see-ums and black flies. Mosquito Lake is in the middle of Moresby Island and there are no roads south of there. Moresby Mountain is the tallest mountain in Haida Gwaii, you can see it across Mosquito Lake. Moresby Camp is on an inlet from Hecate Strait, the waters between Haida Gwaii and the mainland.

Ocean inlet at Moresby Camp

To see the old Haida sites you have to approach the southern part of the island by boat. My one attempt to see an old Haida village site the day before did not turn out well.

While waiting for the ferry I talked to a kayaker who was just back from two weeks kayaking around South Moresby Island with friends. He was an American from Washington State, but used to live in Nova Scotia on the South Mountain just south of Middleton, "being a hippy". Small world. I got back to the Skidegate ferry terminal on Graham Island around 7.30 pm, had supper at the forestry site just outside of Queen Charlotte City, and then went back to the ferry terminal to wait for boarding the 11 pm ferry to Prince Rupert.

I had booked a cabin so I picked up some free ice for my cooler and went straight to my cabin. I had a nice hot shower and went to bed. In the morning I had a second hot shower ( you just never know when you'll have access to a hot shower again!) and bought breakfast. Then I went below to the truck where Yohan had spent the night and waited to offload. My truck was parked behind a cart and the ferry guys did see it, so they didn't move the cart and I couldn't get off. I had to go talk to them to let them know where my truck was but they thought I was a foot passenger and told me to go back and wait to be told to debark. But finally they moved the cart and I was able to drive off.

I learned a lot about the history of these islands while visiting. The Haida were once a powerful nation that lived on the islands but raided and traded with other nations on the mainland. When European traders first arrived on the west coast from the east, they set up their trading post in Prince Rupert rather than on Haida Gwaii, ostensibly out of respect for the Haida. But Catholic missionary priests did settle in the islands.

Later, during the many gold rushes on the west coast of North America, prospectors came up from the south and explored the islands looking for gold. Haida youth were fascinated by the prospectors stories of the cities of the south and some decided to pack up and move there. Unfortunately they did not do well in the south and many of them returned chastened to the islands. But they brought with them an unwelcome guest, smallpox. The disease spread rapidly and horribly, the Haida population was decimated.

Priests living at the north end of Graham Island in Massett convinced the remaining Haida to move there so the priests could help look after them. So all of the villages of Moresby Island were abandoned. When Emily Carr visited Haida Gwaii, the remaining Haida still lived mostly in Massett. But they used to spend summers visiting their old villages in the south, Carr was able to visit them also with friends she made among the Haida.

In their heyday the Haida were fearsome warriors, taking prisoners to be their slaves back home. Trading among the nations of what is now British Columbia was principally based on the oulichan, a small very oily fish. The oil-rich fish provided light, heat and food. The trading routes were known as the Grease Trails and extended from the Yukon to California, from the Pacific Coast to well past the Rocky Mountains.

Wednesday June 10, 1998 - Haida Gwaii

Queen Charlotte City from the ferry to Moresby Island

Gray Bay, Moresby Island - cool and cloudy

I had breakfast and did a bit of shopping in Queen Charlotte City and then took the ferry across to Alliford Bay on Moresby Island. I drove the short distance into Sandspit, the only town on Moresby. It was sure cold and windy! All the roads on Moresby are logging roads and you have to have permission from the logging company, Timber West, to go on them or to use the forestry campsites. I found their office building but I couldn't find the front door, I ended up going into the office by the fire escape. The man who let me in said that their back door was really their front door, and vice versa. He gave me a map and said there was nothing going on in the area so I could drive on any of their roads and stay at any campsites. It felt like being given the Keys to the Kingdom, I was quite elated when I left. I drove down the Copper River Road. There was hardly anyone on the ferry when I came across and most of those people were going to the Sandspit airport. I had the woods to myself!

My intention was to visit all the sites marked on the map: Gray Bay, Moresby Camp and Mosquito Lake. I stopped on the river at one point and disturbed an eagle who I guess was looking for fish, and then arrived at Gray Bay.

Gray Bay

Gray Bay is a crescent shaped bay about ten km from one end to the other, all beach. There are twenty campsites evenly spaced along the beach, about a half kilometer apart. I pulled into a lovely campsite out in the open by the beach. I had a sandwich while sitting on the beach, it was a long sand and stone crescent beach with a bit of surf and a light breeze.

I realized that this was probably going to be my last night camping by the ocean so I shouldn't bother going inland. However, I still wanted to drive a bit, so after the sandwich I went all the way to the end of the road at the south end of the beach and then turned around and went back to another road that my map showed leading to some old abandoned Haida village sites. This road went through a large area of clearcut. I went up one logging road, stopped at a ditch in the road and walked to the top of the road where I had a view of Gray Bay and the mountains to the west. Then I drove on to find the villages. I stopped to watch a deer by the side of the road, we stared at each other for awhile but he was too deep in the woods to photograph. Then I set out on the track that let to the village sites.

It was very narrow and somewhat overgrown. Quite suddenly I came up on a washout in the track. I skidded to a stop inches from going over the edge. The track was too narrow to turn around so I had to back up. I started going down a steep hill backwards and felt the truck tipping leftward toward the ocean side of the track. I thought I was sliding off the track down the side of the hill to the ocean, but when I looked in the mirrors I was still in the track. The lean toward the ocean was scaring me so I was steering toward the other side of the track, even though the mirrors showed that I was fine. I ended up getting into soft mud on the right side and having to drive forward up the hill again, and then back down trying to stay in the middle of the track away from the soft mud. But once again the truck was leaning way over to the left even though I was in the middle of the track. It was so scary!

By the time I got to the bottom of the hill my heart was just pounding. A short way along after that and the track widened enough to turn around and I was able to drive out normally, if a little too fast. I bottowmed out twice before slowing down. I had to remind myself that this was a very very bad place to have a breakdown or accident.

Beach view from my campsite

Gray Bay from my campsite

After another hour or so of checking out every campsite on Gray Bay I finally settled on #9. I picked up a grill from a fire pit at one site, some brush for kindling at another site and some good looking cedar logs at yet another site. The campsite I chose was in the woods but opening onto the beach. there was a tree down blocking the entrance to the campsite but I cut it easily with my little bucksaw. The black flies were out but I had a head net that worked fine. I sat on the beach to eat my supper and kept the fire going to just sit by.

I think I am the only person here and I wish I had come sooner, it was really nice. The nicest place I have stayed so far. Loveland Bay came close but this is by the ocean and much more private. It is just after 10 pm and the sun has just set. It is still light out. The tide went out and is on its way back in. Yohan stays very close to me, right now he is lying under the table. When I walked out onto the beach he went to the edge and just watched me.

This week has been interesting. I have felt lonely and anxious a lot of the time, I feel like I am not making the best use of my time. Whatever I am doing, I feel like I should be doing something else. I think that the backward drive on that track earlier in the day was typical, I should have just relaxed at Gray Bay instead of being hellbent to drive some more. it's hard to relax and just enjoy the trip. I listened to an 83-year-old sculptress on CBC radio in the morning who was talking about how life after 50 was about finding one's passion and doing it, taking on new challenges in old age but being more into art and music than physical activity. I must say that I am not ready to give up the physical life for something more cerebral just yet. But I do wish I could relax more.