Most travel guides divide the trip from Dawson Creek to the Alaska Border into four segments, allowing a full day for each. I went a little crazy on my second day, driving from Fort Nelson all the way to Whitehorse, instead of stopping for the night in Watson Lake. That put me a whole day ahead of schedule–but as I kept telling myself, I didn’t really HAVE a schedule, and after 35 years working a day job, I rather liked that idea. Whitehorse put me in striking distance of the border: Beaver Creek, the last town in Canada, was less than 300 miles away, and Fairbanks was less than 300 miles further.

I woke up early on that third day—despite the blackout curtains at my expensive motel, and despite my exhaustion from driving almost 600 miles the day before. I was anxious to get going, but I wanted to at least process a few photos from the day before, and hopefully send a few emails. (As an aside: digital photos don’t really require processing, but my roots as a photographer date back to the days of 35mm film and wet darkrooms, so I have a tendency to think in those terms. When I shoot digital, I use software to balance the color, then I convert the RAW image files into a user-friendly jpg format before shrinking them down to a size suitable for sharing). Unfortunately, the Canadian version of my email service was completely different from what I was accustomed to, and I couldn’t figure out how to attach photos (which was the whole point of sending out the emails). So much for that! I checked out of the hotel at about 9:00, and after a quick bite to eat and some coffee, I stopped at a “full service” service station. They checked my oil and tires and all of that, had to add at least a quart of coolant; my windshield washer fluid reservoir was nearly empty, so they filled it, and then sold me a bottle to take along with me. I gratefully tipped the pump jockey (attendant) because he’d been so efficiently helpful. When I started the Jeep, the “check engine” light came on, and wouldn’t go off. That worried me a little, as I was about to head off on one of the most remote sections of the Al-Can, and it was still 600 miles to Fairbanks. I asked the mechanic at the service station, and he said my best bet would be to take it to a Jeep dealer!?

Metro Chrysler Ltd., Whitehorse, Yukon; they have my endorsement as the most helpful service department I’ve ever encountered!

(Another aside: I worried about that electrical problem for the rest of the trip, but, thankfully, it never recurred. A year later, long after the trip ended, I got a recall notice in the mail from Chrysler. Seems the ignition switch was defective on that model of Jeep, and would sometimes stick in the wrong position after starting, causing the very problem that had happened to me: engine running, all accessories inoperable. They replaced the switch and both of my key fobs, and all has been well ever since.)

A big brown UPS truck pulled in just after me and the driver, who was not in uniform, got out. I’d passed several UPS trucks on remote sections of the highway and wondered how it could be economically feasible for UPS to travel such long, empty stretches of road with their delivery vehicles. Turned out the driver didn’t even work for UPS, and he wasn’t delivering packages—he was hired to deliver the truck from the factory in Indiana to Fairbanks, because that was the cheapest way for them to get it there. Pretty wild! I talked to him for at least 20 minutes—he was an interesting guy. Thankfully, the conversation pretty well woke me up, so off I went again.

Approaching the mountains, I started pulling over with serious frequency, taking LOTS of photos! Mountains, clouds, lakes, flowers—I was pretty sure I must have died and gone to heaven, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember the fiery crash. I made many U-turns to snap photos of stuff I’d just passed. I wasn’t in a hurry, and I got some great pictures.

This was the Alaska Highway, and it truly was larger than life!

After Haines Junction I entered Canada’s Kluane National Park—which was absolutely stunning. There was a huge turquoise colored lake, and at a bend in the road, I spied a perfect photo op—mountains and clouds reflected in the still clear water of the lake, what you call a money shot (complete with fireweed)!

Approaching Kluane Lake, in Kluane National Park, largest lake in the Yukon Territory

Here’s the sad part: this beautiful lake, at the time I saw it, was fed by the Slims River, which carried a large volume of glacial meltwater from the Kaskawulsh Glacier, located within Kluane National Park. Over the course of four days in May of 2016, less than a year after my visit, the Slims River suddenly disappeared, leaving mud flats where the Alaska Highway crosses the inlet. Shrinking glaciers, the direct result of climate change, abruptly altered the topography of the region, and the water that used to flow into the lake, and on to the Bering Sea, now flows into the Gulf of Alaska, leaving the lake cut off from its primary water source. Over the next few years, this lake will become an isolated basin, forever altered from the way it appears in my photographs, and the crystal clear air that once graced this region is now frequently filled with dust.

Scenes along the Alaska Highway, north of Kluane National Park

Beware of frost heaves!

At the very end of the unpaved stretch, a car was pulled over, and they shouted as I passed, so I stopped. There was a mother grizzly bear with two cubs on the hill above the road, which was pretty exciting! I snapped a quick picture, but I was a little too slow to catch what would have been a perfect shot of the momma looking straight at me. Instead, I got her from the side as she shooed her cubs into the trees.

Mother Grizzly and cubs

It was still raining heavily, and was quite cold by the time I got to Beaver Creek, the last Canadian town on the Alaska Highway. It was about 4:30, I’d driven 300 amazing miles, and some of it was pretty intense. I thought about pushing on into Alaska, if only so that I’d have a chance at phone service and connectivity—but when I discovered that the first real town in Alaska, a place called Tok, was another 120 miles away, I decided I’d best stay in Beaver Creek. I got an overpriced room at a very funky motel—Ida’s Motel and Café, which sounded folksy, but wasn’t. Just like a lot of motels in small-town U.S.A., it was run by East Indians, and, sadly, was not well-maintained. I was charged $100 for a very basic room that was scarcely worth half that amount; unfortunately, there were no other choices. I had a lousy dinner of overcooked, tasteless Salisbury steak that set me back $20, and then I went back to my room and spent several hours processing my amazing pictures. No Wi-Fi, no phone service, so I was totally incommunicado for the evening. The rain stopped (naturally), and I ended up regretting not having driven on to Tok. Oh, well! Stopping before the border made it a relatively easy driving day, which was probably for the best—but I was spending WAY too much money on overpriced motels!

Click any photo in this post to stop the slide shows and expand the images to full screen. 

To return to Day 2, or to continue reading the next part of the series, click the buttons below:

Some of the text and many of the photos in my Alaska Highway series first appeared on RoadTrip America’s website. A few years ago, I posted a detailed account of my entire 57 day, 13,000 mile “Mother of All Road Trips,” and RTA has kept that account available in their archive of Field Reports. If you’d like to read it, the link below will take you there:

MORE ABOUT THE ALASKA HIGHWAY:

This is an interactive Table of Contents. Click the pictures to open the pages.

Alaska Road Trip

A few years ago I wrote a book about road trips in Arizona and New Mexico that’s a lot like this website, packed with interesting information, and illustrated with beautiful photographs. Check it out! You can find it on Amazon, and at all other major booksellers.