Wednesday 8/29
This morning we’re leaving the Admiral at Squanga Lake and taking CJ about 100 miles more or less straight south to Skagway. We’re going down and back today. We’ve heard good things about the scenery along this road, and been warned about cruise ships in the town—Yin & Yang.
It’s cold, probably in the lower 50’s, so we toss some warmer clothes in the Jeep. 20 miles into the drive, it starts to rain…guess we should also have brought the rain gear.
For most of the way this road is known as the Klondike Highway. Much of it traces the trails of the 1897 Yukon gold rush. Then it was teeming with thousands of hopeful miners, today it is empty—Yin & Yang.
Since this road parallels the highway to Haines that we were on a few days ago, we expect the scenery to be similar. We are very happily surprised by the difference—Yin & Yang.
In the first 30 or so miles we pass through the very small towns of Jake’s Corner, Tagish, and Carcross—then we’re in the wilderness. We are virtually alone…almost no other traffic.
At first the landscape is familiar—long, deep blue, glacier-lakes in the east and mountains in the west. Then there is an abrupt transformation. Our guidebooks describe this terrain as a “moonscape”, but that description is totally inapt. It suggests black, barren, and devoid of life. There is abundant life here. What is unique about this area is the sparsity of trees. The valley is a jumble of tumbled, roundish, granite boulders. Stunted trees find the occasional foothold, but mostly the vast, flinty fields are open to a misty, leaden sky. There are thousands of tiny lakes and ponds. Some are black reflections of the somber day, and some are dimly cerulean. We are dumb-founded by the strange beauty of this landscape. It goes on for mile after incredible mile; then as if we’ve reached the end of an uncharted sea, we plunge out of a high mountain pass into a verdant forest of dense, majestic trees. We are now in a dramatic cleft between the Racine and Montana Mountains. Far across the valley a long passenger train snakes its way southward. There are waterfalls on both sides of the valley. There are dozens, scores, hundreds of waterfalls, any one of which would be a local attraction in the lower US, but here each is just another unnamed silvery sinew.
The drop toward Skagway is long and precipitous. On-coming tour buses from the cruise ships are laboring up the mountain--some are stopping to view waterfalls. We pass two guided strings of bicyclers screaming down the mountain, obvious excursions from Skagway. As we stop to photograph one of these groups, we notice a lone biker headed the other way—UP THE MOUNTAIN—pedals grinding in slow but steady orbits. We feel his pain.
Just before the road flattens abruptly, we get a glimpse of the harbor. There are two cruise ships docked there. We are instantly reminded of “War Of The Worlds” where giant spacecraft dominate the sky. The ships have belched their passengers into the town, which clearly exists in symbiotic harmony with the ships. The main street and its arteries are lined with cloned tourist shops—every other one of which seems to be a jewelry store selling “Genuine Yukon Gold”. The streets are clogged with transients—one endless stream bumping its way clockwise around the town—the other endless stream going counterclockwise. I chat briefly with a policeman, “How often are the cruise ships in town”, I ask?
“At least one every day during the season”, he answers.
“Don’t you get tired of it?”
“Yes, but without the tourists, I wouldn’t have a job, and I couldn’t live here near the wilderness…you get used to it.”
Yin & Yang.
After one abbreviated clockwise rotation, we happily leave town. A few miles later we’re climbing upward through the thick forest. Many tour buses are already returning. This is good.
Soon we are back among the bewitching rocks, solitary trees, and ubiquitous lakes. We are beyond the grasping tendrils of the cruise ships and back in the wilderness—Yin & Yang.
On our way back we wonder who pays for this marvelous road. Most of it is in Canada, but its terminus is in the USA. There are no towns or people along this road. Only a handful of adventurers bound for Skagway travel this road. It is a glorious waste of some country’s tax dollars.
Up the road we pass the same lone biker we saw earlier in the day. Over the past 3 hours he’s made 20 grueling vertical miles. We ask where he’s headed. “Whitehorse”, he answers—another 70 miles.
“When do you think you’ll get there?”
“Sometime tonight.”
Amazing. We experience near terminal exhaustion just thinking about it.
We stop briefly in an isolated gravel pit, and I take target practice. I am deadly accurate and dispatch a demon log.
We return to the Admiral and drive east for a few hours, finally stopping near Rancheria. It’s been a great day…familiar and alien wildernesses, crowded streets and empty spaces, throngs of tourists and a brave solo cycler. Yin & Yang.
