On the road again
- jkdrury
- 16 hours ago
- 4 min read
Phyliss and I had been considering driving to Alaska for a couple of years. I’ve been to Alaska three times and over those three trips I’ve spent about 85 days between the slopes of Denali, hopping over to far Eastern Siberia, and visiting my son Dustin, who was a rafting guide on the Chilkat River. Only seven of those days did I really play tourist. Therefore the idea of driving the Alaska Canadian Highway (Alcan) and playing tourist tugged at me.
I’d started feverishly planning the trip, when about a month ago we were invited to dinner at Jan and Doug Fitzgeralds’ with Karen Hixson. The Fitzgeralds, Hixsons, and Drurys have been on lots of wilderness trips over the years and over dinner that evening Phyliss and I shared our plans for Alaska. At one point Karen said, “Our truck camper has just been sitting in our yard since our last trip the year before Ed passed. You should take that.” (He died in February of 2023.)
It was a generous offer but we thought it a crazy idea. Lending someone your truck and camper to put 10,000 miles on it sounded absurd. But after some extended discussion with Karen we decided to take her up her offer. It turns out that her 2019 RAM truck is practically new with less than 35,000 miles on it and the slide-in camper even less. Karen gave us an overview of the rig, as did Max Nason of Happy Camper RV in Vermontville. We finally headed out June 16 with a plan to be back in Saranac Lake by August 1st.
Driving 10,000 miles sounds like a nightmare for some, but after ten days on the road I’m happy to say that I still have a road-warrior mentality. We’ve driven about 3,500 miles so far on this trip and (knock on wood) things have gone smoothly (other than we can’t seem to find where the mosquitos are infiltrating the camper on occasion.)
So, what’s the highlight so far?
We sped across the forests of Ontario and the plains of Manitoba, Alberta, and Saskatchewan. The heartlands of the Canadian prairie provinces have continuous fields of wheat, canola, and barley separated here and there by giant grain elevators. The train engines hauling over 150 grain and crude oil cars stretch across the horizon.
On day seven we crossed into British Columbia and everything changed. The AlCan officially starts in Dawson Creek which appears to be a booming energy town. Its saving grace is that you can start to see a distant silhouette of the Rocky Mountains. As you get closer to the mountains the jagged, glacier-carved peaks rise above turquoise lakes and green valleys to create a dramatic, timeless backdrop. It astounds me every visit I make to the region.
We crossed the Peace River and left Fort St.John and entered the North American version of the Serengeti. We stopped at a tiny outpost called Pink Mountain to fill up on gas and I got a text message from our good friends Brian and Grace McDonnell who were returning from a month in Alaska. Brian said, “Enjoy the drive! We saw lots of wildlife in that area.” No sooner had I received the text when a cow moose ran across the road followed by her gangly calf.
Mothers and their young seem to be a theme. A little farther down the road was a black bear and as we slowed down to get a photo, her cub appeared.
Farther down the road we encountered a herd of bison. [Ed’s note: They’re bison, not buffalo.] I learned at a young age there are no buffalo in North America, only bison. (except for the city, the team, and the nickel)
There are only about 30,000 wild bison left in North America with most of them in Canada, which contrasts a bit with the roughly 50 million that existed from Mexico to Alaska and California to Washington, DC before Europeans arrived. Thirty thousand are a heck of an improvement though over the less than 500 that existed in 1890.
We were cruising along about 60 miles per hour, when suddenly I saw the bison herd ahead. I came to an abrupt stop and slowly creeped up on them, half of the herd on one side of the road and the rest spread out on the highway. The herd of about a hundred were right at home on the Alcan highway. One bull was entertaining itself by rolling on its back kicking up lots of dirt. Twenty or so were stopped in the middle of the road requiring us to come to a full stop.
As I was navigating the highway Phyliss says, “Look there’s a calf trying to feed from its mother in the middle of the highway.” I brought the truck to a full stop and we both watched the calf get breakfast.
Speaking of mother child relationships, I have a question for you:
What did the bison say when her calf went off to college?…Bye son!
See more photos at: