Monique & Barry Zander, No. 13 Monday, June 21, 2010
We awoke to the gentle tapping on our tires by Tailgunner Spence at 7 a.m., and then it was a mad dash to exit the Dawson Creek RV park by 9. We made it with 10 minutes to spare. (Monique insists on preparing a healthy breakfast every morning to start the day.)
And then the fun began. We turned onto Hwy. 97 heading north toward Alaska. Six-plus hours later we arrived at Westend (or Triple G Hideaway) RV Park in Ft. Nelson, B.C. During the intervening 283 miles, we saw a Walmart/Sam’s Club truck, the carcass of an animal that had died of boredom, and a bicyclist pumping up his tire on the side of the road at Mile 235. If this was a tough ride for us, we couldn’t imagine what he was going through. A promised highlight of the drive was the Honey Place, billed as the world’s largest beehive. Like just about every other attraction along the way, it had a CLOSED sign on the side of the building. We did see a swarm of bees circling the place, probably waiting for it to open.
Before that we had flown past the fuel pumps at Pink Mountain, electing to fill up at Sasquatch Crossing since we have Sasquatch’s cousin, a Bigfoot trailer, but there was no fuel there, so we went a few meters to the Husky station, which was closed. It was back to Pink Mountain to fill up at $1.19 per litre.
When we entered a patch of farming country, I suggested we might consider agriculture since we were already growing weary. We believe this was the longest leg of the journey so far. It could be characterized as a journey between monster trucks carrying large cargo, and, on the good side, the ^^^ along the way weren’t as devastating as the previous drive.
We saw no muskeg mires (the name for the deep muck that the U.S. Army contended with in 1942) or permafrost, which, as it melts takes the road away with it. While in Dawson Creek we watched an outstanding PBS movie about the building of what the American Society of Civil Engineers labeled, “a Historical Civil Engineering Marvel.” Seeing all the pain and pride that went into its construction made us eager start at Mile 0 of the Alaskan Highway.
Just 283 miles later in the mini-theater of the museum next door to the RV park, we saw a much earlier, less polished film about the highway. This version, much different than the PBS production, filled us in on what happened after the road officially opened in August 1942.
Animals reported along the way by our caravan members: a fox, a moose and her baby, a bear and deer. Everyday on this trek to the Land of the Midnight Sun is wonderful
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