Day 37 August 11 Hinton to Jasper NP and the worst moment of the trip

We woke this morning to misty drifts of fog slipping in and out of the hills around us and by the time we dropped down to the town of Hinton for fuel, the fog was so thick it was hard to find the gas station.  Even early in the morning, there was considerable traffic on Canada 16, where Hinton is the gateway town between Edmonton and Jasper National Park. 

We were in no hurry, though, and as we climbed into the massive Rockies, the fog lifted, exposing a higher level of cloud cover above us.  When you enter the National Park, if you don’t plan to stop, they will wave you through without a fee.  We told the agent that we wanted to kayak a bit and then find a place to camp somewhere between Jasper and Banff and she smiled and charged us a little over 16 bucks for a pass to both Jasper and Banff that was good until 4PM tomorrow.  Perfect.

With a park map in hand, we decided that Maligne Lake looked like a perfect spot for kayaking and turned east, crossing the Athabasca River to travel beyond Maligne Canyon to the lake.  About half way there we found a great empty turnout and parked the MoHo, thinking we could save a bit on gas if we just drove the baby car.  I am so glad we did that, because the parking situation at the lake was tight to say the least, and while there was plenty of room when we arrived at 10am or so, by the time we got off the lake it was an entirely different story!

We launched the boats in cloudy skies, but after a bit of time on the lake the sun peeked through, warming us and making everything in view just sparkle. Maligne Lake is famous for the island at the far end of the lake, Spirit Island.  It was a photo of this little island that made me want to put my boat on this lovely water.  The only problem is that once again, we are in a very popular national park, and concession boat rides to Spirit Island are the only way most folks get to see it.

The cruise boat traffic was busy, with a boat leaving about every ten minutes and another one returning.  The lake was beautifully calm, so the big swells from the wakes from these boats were dramatic, and we just rode along with them.  The lake is more than 7 miles long and we really didn’t have the time for a 14 mile paddle, so we traveled along the west side of the lake about half way before crossing over to the eastern shore for a break.  The water was perfectly clear, and Abby loved her swim while we walked a bit along the shore.

It was a beautiful day, a beautiful moment, a beautiful time on a beautiful lake.  Ahhhh. 

When we arrived back at the launch dock, we were surprised to find it crammed with people.  They were all hanging around in the middle of the boat launch taking photos, standing around everywhere, and there were so many cars in the parking lot that we knew there was no way we would manage to get the car down to the launch.  Instead, we picked up our 34 pound wonder boats and carried them up to the lot for loading.  The rental RV’s were bumper to bumper trying to find parking, and one lucky person in a sedan had managed to park in the ditch and was stuck.  We just loaded up the boats and got out of there as quickly as possible.  By this time the sun was out in full force and it was actually hot. 

We were happy to see the motorhome peacefully waiting in the one turnout that wasn’t occupied, hooked up the baby car and made some lunch before heading back out the Maligne Lake Road to the highway.  On the way we saw several wildlife traffic jams, but one of them was actually worth stopping for, and I joined the crowds taking photos of a very unconcerned bull elk.  Mo said she had never seen a rack as big as this guy, and I don’t think I have ever been that close to a bull elk ever.  Probably not very smart.  Back in my soil survey days, we had stories about encounters with bull elk, but usually that was in the fall during the rut.  This guy was pretty darn tame, I guess.

We ambled on through the park, enjoying the views and the animals and decided that stopping in Jasper for cute little shops wasn’t worth the effort to park.  Instead we drove slowly with all the other tourists, and I took photos out of the window cafes, and stores, and tourists.  Jasper town was really quite nice, with many old homes converted to B&B’s, and lovely gardens.  I could enjoy staying in Jasper for a week or so and taking more time for hiking the many trails and kayaking the many lakes.  The maps looked so enticing.

Instead, we were getting into the home mode, and after six weeks traveling magnificent Alaska and the Yukon, this lovely little park full of tourists was a bit less exciting than it might be if it were our planned destination.  We continued on south along the Athabasca River, planning to stop at any of the campgrounds along the Icefield Parkway that had room for us without a reservation.

Not far south we saw a campground down along the river, missed the turn somehow, and pulled into another turnout to retrace our steps.  Mo said, “Wow, that is a great mountain”. I stepped out of the rig with the camera in hand to get a good photo, and Mo said one minute I was there and the next minute I was nowhere.  With my eyes gawking at the mountain and my camera pointed up, I stepped into a deep hole in the asphalt and went down with a very hard crash.  All I saw was broken glass and plastic strewn out in front of me, and I didn’t give a whit about whatever was going on with my body.  There were half a dozen people in the parking lot who must have thought I was nuts, screaming, “It’s thousands of dollars, it’s thousands of dollars!!”

I was a bit skinned and bruised but that had nothing to do with the sick feeling in my stomach.  Deanna’s lens. The super fast, super heavy, (later I found out it is $1539 bucks of super) lens took the full brunt of the fall.  Not to mention my brand new camera. The lens filter was splintered and the metal edge of the lens was bent, the mechanism was stiff and acting funny.  Duh.  I clicked. Nothing.  Clicked again. Nothing.  I am so sick I can’t even cry. I put one of my other lenses on to see if it was just the lens.  Click. Nothing.  Then I look a little bit closer and see that the on/off button has shifted in the fall.  Turn the camera on.  Click. IMAGE! I put Deanna’s lens back on. Click. IMAGE!!

I think it must have been the heft and solidity of that fancy NIKON lens that took the hit and saved the camera.  I tried several shots with Deanna’s lens, and except for a bit of stiffness in the zoom, it seems to still have perfect auto-focus and the images look fine.  Incredible.  Of course, I have to replace her lens, and insurance is $1000 deductible, so it’s coming out of my pocket.  The good part about all this is that I never would spend 1500 bucks to get that lens for myself, and now I have one.  Maybe a bit bent, and maybe not perfect, but still working and now mine.

By the time we backtracked and settled in to Mt Kerkeslin campground, $12 for a dry site, I wanted nothing more to do than sit and drink a beer on the sofa.  My body hurt, my mind hurt, and I was a wreck, even with the reasonably good outcome. I felt like any step I took was going to put me on the ground somehow, it was definitely disconcerting!  Mo took Abby for a walk, and we canned any plans to hike Athabasca Falls. I sat there alone on the sofa saying a ton of “thank yous” to the powers that be for letting the worst moment of our trip not be any worse than it was.

Miles driven today (in the MoHo): 73

The rest of the photos are linked here

Day 36 August 10 Grand Prairie to Hinton

When we planned this trip, one of the roads that intrigued me was the Big Horn Highway from Grande Prairie Alberta to Grand Cache and then to HInton, the gateway to Jasper. In the Milepost, the road was described in glowing terms, indicating beautiful views and abundant wildlife. From the way the road was described, I wasn’t even sure it was going to be an easy road for the MoHo.  The road was better than many on the trip, and it turns out the only wildlife we saw much of were the fast moving pick-up trucks driven by guys that I assumed were working the abundant oil fields.

We took our time leaving the comfortable park in Grande Prairie, knowing that we planned to boondock somewhere along the highway for the evening, since we planned to spend the entire next day exploring Jasper National Park.  No rush, no hurry.  The MoHo was shiny clean, rugs all washed, fresh showers and fresh shampoos for us and we were ready for a day of just rolling along.

It was almost 11 when we pulled out of town and the air was a bit murky, but certainly not as bad as the previous day.  The sun was hot coming through the windshield, and we spent most of the day with the windows open enjoying the breezes.  I’m so glad that Jeremy now simply ignores open windows and happily lounges on the dash when the windows are open.  Now and then he will lift his nose to the wind and smell whatever it brings his way.

This route turned out to be rather boring, and even though it is listed as a scenic route, there are very few turnouts, no interpretive signs to explain the landscape, most of the time, hardly any shoulder to even pull over for a photo. As we approached Grand Cache, we noticed a huge coal plant along the Shadow River and dramatic coal seams in the bedrock along the highway. 

The town of Grand Cache was a beautiful bright spot in the sunny say, with brilliant blue skies and big white puffies, my favorite. There is a lovely visitor center that we thoroughly enjoyed.  They are in the process of rescuing the historic fire lookouts, moving them to the visitor center park, and telling the story of each one. We spent some enjoyable moments walking around the park with Abby and reading all the interpretive signs about the First Nations culture in the area, the history of the coal industry, and the stories of the forest lookouts.

As afternoon began to lengthen, and we were just ten miles or so north of Hinton, a wide turnout appeared with a side road slipping behind the timber.  Perfect!  We unhooked so we could drop a bit out of sight and parked for the very warm evening.  Even though there was a fire ring, the mosquitos and heat made a fire seem less enticing, and instead we turned on the fans and after an early supper settled in with our books.  I liked that we were invisible from the busy road, and by dark most of the traffic subsided.

Miles driven today: about 208

Road condition: 2 lane paved highway with a ton of construction and lots of big pick-ups driving fast, the oil industry employs lots of guys in big pick-ups!

A few photos from this day of travel are linked here.

August 9 Day 35 Bougie Creek to Grand Prairie

Passing through the city of Fort St John brought up some questions.  This town is the oldest white settlement in British Columbia, established in 1794 in the low rolling hills of the Peace River Valley. In the early 70’s, when I lived for a short time in Edmonton, Calgary, and Prince George, the Peace River Valley was talked about with awe, a mythical place where the nights were long, the soils fertile, and where an ordinary family could still come and homestead to make a good living.

When the Alaska highway was started in 1942, Fort St John had a population of 200, swelling overnight to more than 6,000 people as the army used this area as the southern base for building the highway.  We took the side route through downtown Fort St John, a community now called “The Energetic City”, a boom town bursting at the seams with oil and gas money.  I’m not sure why the air here is so dirty.  The gray brown haze stretches for miles in the distance to the east, and the beautiful broad agricultural fields south of the city are dulled by the smoky skies. maybe there are forest fires somewhere in the west, maybe it’s humidity, or dirty foggy haze. 

I just know that it’s ugly, and today Fort St John looked pretty darn ugly.  You can tell that most all the building is new, and most of it is related to oil.  We didn’t see any oil wells, but many storage tanks, lots of trucks, and many square utilitarian buildings.  I can’t help but wonder why money brings such ugliness.  It seems that it is all about build and buy and use and grow, with no rhyme or reason to the growth and no concept of beautifying the area.  I guess I should give credit to the folks that planted big planters of brilliant petunias to hang along the main streets of town, they were pretty in the midst of wires and concrete.

South of town, we were again stopped by a construction zone, this time for more than 20 minutes.  We were entertained during our wait by some guys trying to get a big Barber Green something or other unclogged.  Mo and I laughed, you could tell the foremen from the workers by how clean their clean pants.  We also wondered if they actually washed their clothes or just threw them away.

So far, this has been the best entertainment we have had along this route between Fort Nelson and Dawson Creek.  A moose cow ran out in front of us with her calf, choosing for some unknown reason to cross the highway at a lope, baby in tow.  I have no idea why she thought crossing the road in traffic was a good idea, but she was fast enough that the telephone couldn’t catch her through the windshield.

The scenery has been simple, rolling tree covered hills, gentle landscape, hazy, smoky, or whatever it is skies, and the road, stretched out in front of us broken only by an occasional bridge, a frost heave, or  construction.

We stopped at the Esso at Wonowon, surprised to find the shop well stocked and interesting. They even had 5/20 oil, what we use in the MoHo, and sometimes it is hard to find.  They had a well stocked snack area and deli with lots of goodies of every kind.  Too bad we didn’t need anything. Gas was down to 1.419 per liter, and I am glad we shouldn’t need gas again until we reach Alberta where it should be cheaper.

After stopping at Taylor for information about Peace River Country, we crossed another “mighty” river, the Peace.  Mythical, magical rivers that lead into the north fascinate me.  I loved looking down into the fertile valley, but at 50mph on a steep uphill with lots of trucks and no turnouts, it was just a momentary glance and no chance for a photo.

About 21 miles north of Dawson Creek there is a turnoff to the Kiskatinaw River Bridge, and for about 3 miles we had the opportunity to meaner along a piece of the original Alaska Highway.  The beautiful curved bridge is the only original timber bridge built along the Alaska Highway that is still in use.  It was a lovely bridge, with wide wooden planks over the Kiskatinaw River.  It was just a few moments respite from the monotonous drive from Fort Nelson to Dawson Creek. 

Within a few minutes we were in Dawson Creek, location of the famous Mile 0 marker.  Trouble is, there is more than one marker.  Stopping at the visitor center near the grain elevator museum for photos, Mo kept insisting there was another marker somewhere right in the middle of town.  Couldn’t figure it out at all, but while there we ran into another person sharing their life story, this time a guy from Virginia in a truly antique motor home.  When I asked if he had experienced any trouble on his way north, he launched into some very long, complex stories.  He then offered to take photos of the two of us and it wasn’t until later I realized that he hadn’t actually managed to get a single photo.

In the mean time, we were still trying to figure out where that original marker was in the middle of town.  A closer look at the Milepost map revealed it’s hidden location and we backtracked for a photo to match Mo’s photo from 1974.  Where!  that felt better.  Mo was thinking maybe they demolished the whole town when they put up the new marker. At this point we have covered the entire length of the official Alaska Highway, although our route started in the middle, backtracked a bit, took a few side roads and then finally ended up finishing at Mile Zero. 

We didn’t dawdle in Dawson and made a beeline for Alberta on Highway 2, headed east through beautiful prairie and skies that opened up toward the horizon.  That stretch from Fort Nelson to Dawson Creek was pretty ugly today, and I am glad to once again be breathing clear air and seeing fresh blue skies.

Just a short 80 miles east of Dawson Creek is the sparkling clean city of Grand Prairie.  There was every box store you could imagine along the highway, but still somehow things felt clean and fresh.  We didn’t bother to check out the town  and turned south on Wapiti Road, Highway 40, our route south to Grand Cache and Jasper.  Not far out of town is the delightful Camp Tamarack, with full hookups and the words that made us go there, “hi pressure RV wash”. 

It was definitely high pressure, and after $18.00 Canadian we had a reasonably clean set of rigs.  I am sure that when we get home we will be cleaning things up for a long time, but for now it felt good to get all that road grime off the surface at least.  There is a laundry, with nice big machines that were available, and I caught up on wash and cleaned out the MoHo again in readiness for the next few days exploring Jasper and Banff as we continue south toward home.

Miles traveled today: 306

Road condition: paved 2 lane highway, with frost heaves, gravel sections, and bumpy frost joints until we got to Alberta and then the road was like a wide Nebraska freeway without the wind.

The rest of the photos are here, but they are really really boring today, so it might not be worth the time

August 8 Day 34 Muncho Lake to somewhere along 97

I suppose days like yesterday only come one at a time.  We woke at Muncho Lake this morning, same place we went to sleep last night, but it didn’t take long for the magic to dissipate as we traveled east and south, leaving the Rocky Mountains behind and moving onto the great inland plateau that makes up a large part of British Columbia.

When we settled in for the night, Mo wanted to load the kayaks, but I had visions of a silent morning paddle on that beautiful lake.  Instead morning brought strong winds, even in the early light, and we loaded up the boats and were on the road by 8am. This part of BC is gorgeous, and the road passes through Muncho Lake Provincial Park and then through Stone Mountain Provincial Park.  It’s a narrow road, but not bad, with a few curves here and there and a natural, meandering kind of mode that was fun to drive.

We saw more Stone Mountain Sheep at their namesake park, all standing in the road along the highway and in the highway, looking almost exactly as they do in the Milepost photo.  Very cute critters, but I’m not sure what it is that they find along the road that is so interesting.  Once beyond the park, the road dropped down to follow the Tetsa River, and the views in all directions were wonderful. 

We pulled into the Tetsa Campground with the promise of fresh baked bread, and I checked in at the camp store to find perfect round loaves of fresh sourdough bread and a warm cinnamon bun that was hands down ten times better than the famous buns on the Klondike Highway.  On the counter in the crockpot, was a bubbling pot of incredibly good smelling soup, so I bought a bowl of that as well for our supper to go with the bread.  The owner was charming and conversational, with that far northern accent that I am getting used to.

Continuing east we crossed the last of the Northern Rocky Mountains as we moved onto the plateau.  The trees were thick and the aspen and birch was dark green, but there wasn’t much else to see all the way in to Fort Nelson. Some agenda items: get water, dump, get gas, get money, get food, wash the rigs.  We succeeded in the first few, with a stop at the visitor center that yielded information about where to find an ATM.  Right next to the ATM was a pizza place, and we haven’t had pizza in more than a month, so we ordered one to go. 

The city operates a free dump and water station near the museum, so we took advantage of that, planning to boondock somewhere tonight and wanting to be sure we had enough water for baths.  I still have sulfur in my hair and it does feel a bit weird.  While parked at the pizza place, I discovered a hot spot and managed to upload a few photos and a single blog post while checking email and doing some more banking.  Mo was anxious to get the rigs washed, so after I stopped into the IGA for supplies, we headed over to the car wash.

It’s hard to explain just how these kinds of chores can seem to take so long, can be so tiresome and can really take the shine out of a day.  Before we washed the rigs, we needed fuel, and I paid the highest price ever at 1.46 per liter. I put 225 Canadian into the tank and it was still only 3/4 full.  Trying to get out of the station added more frustration as some woman from Alaska seemed to think the middle of the driveway was the place to park while she shopped and took on water.  When I asked her to move so we could get out, she pulled forward a few feet and then got out to do more stuff.  Duh!  Excuse me, but please, we would like to GET OUT OF THIS PLACE!

Not so fast, we still have the rigs to wash.  Just a couple of doors down from the FasGas was a car wash with a bay big enough for both rigs and we just slid into position without a hitch.  I went to get loonies, and the proprietor informed me it used only toonies, with each toonie giving one minute of wash time.  I looked at Mo, we looked at the MoHo, and thought about just how far ten bucks would take us in that filthy mess.  Maybe not.

We pulled out of town in a ton of traffic, lots of pickup trucks driving south to work the second shift on the huge natural gas plant south of town.  In 1957, Fort Nelson didn’t even have power, but now with oil shale and natural gas the place it starting to really boom.  It was actually hot for the first time since we left the lower 48, with a humid 90 plus degrees showing on the thermometer.

We are now driving south on the Alaska Highway, BC highway 97.  Advertised road condition says wide road, 2 lane good pavement all the way to Dawson Creek.  As the miles pass I think we are both feeling a bit better.  It does make me wonder how things will feel when we have to deal with reentry into traffic and the frustrations of a populated world.  For the time being, we plan to find another wide place in the road to boondock tonight, eat our pizza and drink a well deserved beer.

Later:  Around 4 pm, maybe 40 or 50 miles south of Fort Nelson at an unnamed creek, Mo suddenly said, “Hey, this looks good!”.  We crossed the little bridge and turned down the tiny road on the east side of the highway toward a nice wide area along the creek.  Perfect.

It was hot.  After settling in we made sure the fan was on before taking Abby for a walk down to the stream.  Not sure why, but the stream was a dull brown color, hopefully not some sort of runoff from the oil fields.  We heated up our pizza and relaxed with dinner, turned on the water heater for a good shower, and then, bam.  Two big rigs saw that little narrow road as well and rumbled down into “our” campsite, jumped out, hollered at each other while backing and proceeded to set up their nice little camp, chairs and all, right out our front window.

Ok.  Right.  I’m a jerk.  It’s NOT my campground, it’s not my creek, and they have just as much a right to be here as I do.  Bummer.  I have been spoiled rotten, and its time to get back to the real world.  ugh. Little black flies are buzzing around INSDIE the MoHo, and I’m not sure how they got here.  Big black spruce beetles are hanging out on the screen.  Did I mention that it’s hot?  Mo is hiding away in her book on the sofa, oblivious to my grumblings.  Smart.

Miles driven today: about 230 from stop 20 to stop 21 on the Streets and Trips map to the left.

Road conditions: variable, but mostly good 2 lane highway.  A bit of construction in BC, a bit of narrow stuff here and there, some frost heaves here and there, but we still traveled at 50mph most of the time.

The rest of the photos for this day are linked here

August 7 Day 33 Irons Creek to Muncho Lake

In life sometimes there are good days. Sometimes there are really great days.  Then sometimes there are days that are written in golden memory, shining and brilliant for the rest of a lifetime.  This was just one of those days.  Since I woke this morning beside a creek in British Columbia, time seemed to crawl along in some sort of slow motion.  Every single moment of this perfect day was drawn out long and still, a gift I suppose from the land and the water and the skies, a gift so that I could savor it.

Our boondock site last night along Irons Creek was still in an area of road construction, so we thought it would be a good idea to get on the road early enough so we didn’t need to worry about falling in line with a pilot car.The skies were still light when I woke at 11:30, but by 1:30 when I again woke and checked for northern lights it was dark enough to see stars.  I haven’t seen stars since we left more than a month ago. It was 31 degrees when we opened the back blinds at 5:30 the only one we had closed during the long quiet night. After heating a pot of water for tea, we closed up the rig and were on the road before 6. 

The drama of the morning light was accentuated with mysteriously beautiful drifts of fog lying in the low lands along the Llaird River.  We drove for awhile looking for a nice level pullout to stop and cook Mo’s favorite Sunday morning treat, poached eggs on toast.  Then another stop for a walk down to the river to view the Whirlpool Canyon rapids was rewarding with cool fresh morning air and the roar of the river.

At Coal Creek, there was a small café advertising WiFi, and I thought it might be a good place to try to upload the backlog of blog posts, but even with the $5. fee, I couldn’t manage more than a simple update post with no photos and a quick check of email and bank accounts.  That was really all that mattered anyway, the blog will be there when we are eventually.

Within minutes of leaving Coal Creek we encountered the first of many buffalo grazing along the highway.  Most folks traveling this route will see these buffalo, and they seem to congregate along the wide highway shoulders thick with grasses.  I wondered if they were native to this area or if they have been transplanted here by the BC Parks.  Of course, with no internet, I will have to find that out later. We enjoyed taking photos of the huge bulls with their massive heads and the little ones protected by their moms as they moved along with heads down, grazing. 

The reality of cars and wildlife hit home hard as we passed a dead buffalo beside the road, and saw her little one grazing alone along the highway.  Huge signs warn of buffalo in the area, but still many are killed.  In all, we saw at least 4 dozen buffalo, many bulls and many babies, so even with the sad moment it was encouraging to seem them. Later I found out that these are “wood bison” and that the herd was once completely decimated.  Only in the recent decades has the BC government protected them and the herd has grown to nearly 100 animals.

The wide road opened up before us, dropping down off the Yukon Plateau to the valley of the “mighty” Llaird River.  Yes, it is another mighty river, according to the Milepost. I do love the mighty rivers of the Yukon and British Columbia.  It’s a good word.

One of my important “todo” lists for this trip was a visit to Llaird River Hot Springs and it was less than 80 miles from our night camp to the provincial park.  At first I thought we might stop and camp here for the night, but then decided that it was worth the ten bucks to dip in the springs and then continue down the road to Muncho Lake, another big “todo” on my list and camp there.  I wanted to dip my kayak in those famous turquoise waters.

We settled into a parking space and turned on the fan for the animals since Abby couldn’t go out on the hot springs trail.  They have a boardwalk that passes through hot mud flats and wetlands, through the forest, to the first pool.  The second pool is now closed due to an endangered animal that lives there.  There was construction going on, with a new dam being built, but somehow it still felt silent and calm around the pool. There were a few people around, most of whom seemed incredibly respectful of the special beauty of this place. 

I slipped into the mid zone of the pool, knowing that 126*F would definitely be too much for me at the source of the spring.  It was heaven, just pure heaven.  There is a bit of sulfur, but not too much, and there is every variation of temperature in the water, from bathtub comfortable at the lower end of the pool, to too hot for me to handle at the upper end.

I marveled at the feeling of incredibly hot surface water, with cooler water at my feet.  Perfect for hitting that lower back spot without getting too hot!  Mo doesn’t like sulfur water so I swam alone while she rested on the benches. I’m not sure how long I stayed, but while I was in that water, nothing hurt, just nothing.  You know how it is when the years catch us, something somewhere always seems to be hurting.  Nothing hurt at all while I was in that pool, and as I sit here by the campfire tonight, still nothing hurts.  I could use one of those springs in my own yard!

Once again I met an Alaskan willing to tell her whole story.  All it takes is a hello and a simple question, and they are off and running.  I met Janet, a woman who has homesteaded at Healy near Denali for 29 years.  She is driving back to the ‘lower 48” for the first time since then.  Her daughter is in Colorado and needs her.  She is afraid of dealing with the city, laughingly telling me that in all her time at Healy she only had to deal with one crazed bear.  She hates the idea of dirty snow and of paying for water.  But her daughter needs her.  She quit her two jobs and is going to Colorado.  She last dipped in the Llaird pools 29 years ago when it was all free, but promised herself this one stop on the Alaska Highway.

Not far beyond Llaird Hot Springs the view opened up to the lovely blue water of Muncho Lake.  I think I expected it to be a bit more colorful thnt it looked at first because it has been touted so much in all the literature.  Still, it was a respectable blue with edges of turquoise and emerald in the shallows.  There is a campground listed in the Milepost at the southern end of the lake, with 15 rocky beach sites.  On the information map for the park, however, we saw another campground on the northern end and decided that might be more to our liking.

Pulling in to Macdonald Campground we found 15 beautiful sites, each with it’s own perfect small gravel beach, a table and a fire ring.  It was still early in the afternoon, and it was warm and clear.  We set up in our private, perfectly level gravel drycamp site, opened the awning to shelter our chairs against the afternoon sun, and looked forward to a long, quiet afternoon of beautiful views, gorgeous water, and peaceful quiet.

For the first time on this trip, Mo had a chance to plug in her little electric chain saw to cut up the pallet lying near our site in addition to a couple of downed dry spruce logs.  She discovered that with the generator going, the chain saw would only run on the outlet set up for the microwave, and run it did. We had enough wood for a great long fire after supper into the evening.

I can’t explain why one day might be more perfect than any other.  The litany sounds like any other day on the Alaska journey.  I know we have seen more spectacular scenery, done exciting things all along the route, traveled more dramatic paths.  But something about this day seemed golden, slow and perfect.  I sat in the lounge chair for a long time just looking up at the light filtering through the aspen leaves listening to the lap of water on the shore.

Earlier in the day I relaxed for a long time in a clear warm pool surrounded by green peacefulness, and later in the day I silently paddled along the shore of a perfect lake surrounded by perfect mountains.  We had a great home-cooked supper with simple chicken breasts, my favorite grated carrot and apple slaw, and some super sweet corn brought all the way from Medford Costco in our little freezer.  After supper I slipped out again onto the lake, and then while Mo relaxed with a book I took Abby for a walk along the shore.  I watched the moon low in the sky to the east and the long twilight as the sun set behind the high mountains to our west. 

I felt more quiet inside than I have on the entire trip, as if the accumulation of all the experience finally settled in to a deep place in my heart.  I guess that is why is was somehow the ‘perfect’ day for me on the Alaska Highway.

Miles driven today: about 230

Road condition: beautiful roads most of the way with just a bit of construction here and there

The rest of the photos for this day of travel are linked here