That doesn't mean we didn't have a great sleep and have time to get up, enjoy continental breakfast, and update the world on our travels. "Breaking News -- the Panthers pooped!!!" flashed across my Facebook screen, and I realized Monique had adapted all my worries of the journey as a good co-pilot should. This was all fine and not TMI until days later it became apparent that some of her friends did not know what the panthers were and that a small contingent thought that Monique and I WERE the panthers, a definitely unwelcome development that we clued into thanks to one John R Smith and a subsequent confession from one Doug Sanders. Devereux Warwick Richards is also in the bad books by association.
We set out in the freezing rain, and this may be the one part of the journey that made Monique nervous (not to worry, my part would come). The defrost could not keep up with the freezing rain, leaving a window of reduced visibility, and the roads were bouncy with potholes, slush, and muck. "Ah, it's no worse than Saskatchewan," I said as we bounced along the cliff face. By the time we reached Toad River (or Frog Creek as Monique recalls it), we decided to switch despite it being a short starter leg for me. The freezing rain had stopped, and the limestone gorge was ahead. This was my predeclared nervous stretch. I have still not recovered from Montana's terrifying Highway 49 skirting Glacier National Park, and so Monique was slated to drive the section between Toad River/Frog Creek and Watson Lake so that I had the option to close my eyes and pretend I was somewhere else if we came to a deathly narrow road hovering over a massive gap into probable fiery death.
the alleged limestone gorge after Toad River |
We discovered that the one open venue of frog creek..er Toad River, was a gas station sporting wifi for more updates, a small wall of post office boxes for the locals wherever they may be, a restaurant, a gift shop, and one live employee. We were happy to see the truck and boat we had been following also stopped, and were determined to get out ahead of them. We also noticed a cute large dog that looked a little bit like the llama as we filled up, grabbed coffee, and headed back out onto the road. The Toad River itself was stunning....it had glacial blue ice breaking up on its surface and gently bubbled on. The Limestone Gorge into the MacKenzie Valley required no eye closing or even squinting...and long before we reached Watson Lake miss Monique had dubbed my sturdy Milepost advisor book as the PansyPost. The areas without guardrails would really not require them unless in a whiteout or uncontrollably icy circumstance. The drop-offs were totally survivable (presuming you got out of car and could swim), and there was not a single scary thing about the drive the whole day.
Monique at Toad River... Mile 422 Alaska Highway |
By Muncho Lake we were met with beautiful views and still clear skies and roads.
Monique at Muncho Lake |
Snowy mountain passes but well maintained roads |
Road Caribou -- photo by Monique Andrie |
I of course worried about the skinny caribou, hoping for an early spring for him |
Beyond the caribou of Mile 449...we knew we had to stop at the famous Liard Hotsprings at Mile 477. I remember reading about this place because a bear killed 2 would be bathers on this very path back in 1997, a time when I was avidly mountain biking in the Rockies and acutely aware of such events. It was nice to go in February while the bears were napping,
Lliard Hotsprings Trail |
The hotsprings were FABULOUS. There is some variation of warmth so you can move about to where you want to be and find the absolute perfect temperature for you. Sitting in the mineral water beneath the snowy banks in a cloud of steam....awesome.
Lliard Hotsprings |
The one caution of the hotsprings, aside from becoming bear crunchy biter yummer yums in the summer, is that any silver on your jewellery oxidizes with superman speed. I knew my chain was white gold, and my locket black and white diamonds...but I didn't clue in that they are set in silver. In this otherwise happy warm pic of the two happy travellers enjoying the hot springs in their...er...bathing suits...you can see the rust red stain of my locket on my skin after just a few minutes in the water. Do remove silver before enjoying Lliard. It was cautioned in the MilePost but I forgot.
The hotsprings were mostly isolated...we only had to share with one, terribly handsome Yukon park ranger who was on vacation (we jokingly called him the potential panther papa for the rest of the day as we kept running into him at stops. He was also he owner of llama dog seen at Toad River).
Rocking Wilderness Chic at Lliard Hotsprings |
momma and baby buffalo at the edge of the road -- photo by Monique |
Monique documenting Yukon sunset traffic |
Sunset gleaming in the sky and on the road -- Monique's camera agqin |
And so we drove off into the sunset, and later into the dark, on our longest part of the trip, arriving north of Whitehorse some 13 hours into the drive. Incidentally, we got a warning on the car to check the front left tire pressure, which we did stop in the dark to check, and found that my pricey 4 day old front left winter tire was still at a solid 30 psi. We carried on til our designated Whitehorseish stopping point.
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