Once we got our proverbial “stuff” together in Whitehorse, we were ready to find high-speed blacktop to make tracks south. It had been awhile since we had seen the speedometer hit 60 mph, and the Al-Can Highway was built exactly for that. Originally constructed during WWII to run supplies to Alaska and Russia, it quickly became the go-to route for tourists bucket-listing the Alaska RV trip. Compared to roads north of north such as the Klondike, Cassiar, and Dempster, the Al-Can is a sweet ride. Smooth and winding eye candy at a nearly interstate highway pace.
Whitehorse, Yukon is mile 918 of 1380 on the Al-Can Highway. Dawson Creek is mile 0. We gave ourselves three days for the transit. Is that too fast? By moving quickly, we know we missed a chance to camp at one more Lake Louise look alike. Also, there were a bunch of scenic view points that, to be honest, we kind of blew by. Still on sensory overload coming out of north of north, the unending barrage of scenic lakes and overlooks were beginning to trigger a fight or flight response. We were not exactly panicking and pulling a string of highway all-nighters to get back to the States, but the thought had occurred to us.
Sweeping south on the Al-Can, mixing it up with the big rigs and Class A’s towing run-arounds, we overnighted on the banks of bluer than blue Watson Lake then took an opportunity to get some much needed spa therapy at mile 496. The world famous Liard River Hot Springs offers first come, first serve camping and we arrived plenty early to snag a spot. Unlike other hot springs spas, Liard has been preserved in its natural state. As a Provincial Park, it has not been commercialized for the spa loving crowd. There are no attendants in white tunics booking massages. There are no hot rock therapy sessions. There are no healthy choice salads. There are no amenities what so ever. It is basically a super hot geothermal fed river running through a forest. It is a kilometer walk on a boardwalk through a hot swamp to get there. It is awesome!
We got two Liard-style spa therapy sessions in during our stay. By far, the best time was at the break of day. The water ranges in temperature depending on proximity to the spring source varying from from deadly 127F to a hot as heck bath 104F. Except for a cedar changing room and some steps leading down to the springs, the whole experience is au naturel. The thing about au naturel experiences is that they are incredibly cool, and yet also kind of gross. We felt like we had discovered the springs completely by accident while walking through the forest. We were surrounded by flowering plants and ferns. That’s cool. After the morning soak and stretch, we drove 500 miles in the truck smelling like sulfur and minerals because there are no showers. That’s gross. We think leaving that high mineral content water on our body is good for our skin. That’s an obvious rationalization.
By the end of the third day we had made it to the beginning of the Al-Can Highway where we found out that Dawson Creek is not Dawson’s Creek. Dawson’s Creek is a very cute town with even cuter people on the coast of Massachusetts. It is also a fictional TV series filled with teenage drama. Dawson Creek is an ugly in the normal way industrial hub for staging trucking traffic onto the Al-Can Highway and beautiful in a breathtaking way for 100,000 acres of canola flowers in full bloom. Needless to say, we loved Dawson Creek almost as much as Dawson’s Creek, because it came with showers, a No Frills grocery store, a cool breeze and not a single mosquito. It’s only missing Katie Holmes.
Having made it back to the beginning of the Alaskan Highway, we officially felt like we were out of the north. The Sirius XM radio worked nearly all of the time now that we were not at such high latitudes. The iPhones only occasionally went into SOS. We saw a McDonalds and a Burger King. Perhaps we will find some more adventure on our way home, after all we still have well over 3,000 miles to go, but we know it will not be the kind we just experienced. Backed up in end-of-day Dawson Creek commuter traffic, we felt pangs of nostalgia for empty spaces. Convenience, crowds and comfort are a package deal.
