I’ve crossed a lot of country borders in my years. Generally the occasions have been reasonably uneventful (except for that one time I wasn’t allowed to board a US-bound plane in Sydney and had to wave goodbye to Lisa because my US visa wasn’t stamped in my passport). The border crossing in Beaver Creek on our way back to California last week was, however, undoubtedly the most uncomfortable crossing I’ve ever had to endure. We had our COVID tests in hand, passports dialed and all our other paperwork sorted but that didn’t seem to help: the two border guards were extremely abrasive and even hauled me inside to deliver an unpleasant dressing down away from the family. So, just for the peanuts at the Canadian Beaver Creek border crossing, I’m going to put the rules from your own government here for you as they were at the time we crossed (first screenshot below). As you can see, given the four of us were Californian residents at the time, with Californian drivers licenses and driving a truck and trailer with California plates there should have been no issues. Not to mention that Trudeau just announced that all vaccinated travelers from the US will be able to enter Canada for tourism purposes within a matter of weeks. Ridiculousness.
After about an hour of uncertainty, we were finally allowed to enter Yukon Territory. The border guards gave us four days to exit Canada – which we expected – as well as some self-administered COVID tests that we had to take via videoconference within 24 hours of crossing the border. The guards didn’t seem to understand that we just handed them four negative PCR COVID tests or the fact that the section of the Yukon and BC that we’d be crossing in the first 24 hours is almost completely devoid of civilization and cellular networks. The government of the Yukon Territory was even less welcoming than the border guards (if that’s possible): we were not allowed to leave the Alaska Highway through the Yukon, and also not permitted to use any government-run campgrounds in the province. In the one RV park in Whitehorse where we were allowed to stop for the night, we had to pay full ticket but were not allowed to use the toilets or washrooms. I’ve never felt like such a leper. Not only were Lisa and I fully vaccinated, but does the Yukon government not realize that the Yukon lags Alaska in percentage of the population fully vaccinated?
Anyway, from Alcan Border in Alaska to Sumas in Washington it’s 1773 miles/2853 kilometers. That meant we had to average over 400 miles/640 kilometers a day. Towing the trailer, the prime spot for fuel economy is right on 60 MPH/100KMH. So without any stops, lunch breaks, or slowing down for the pothole- and frost heave-ridden roads of Yukon Territory and northern British Columbia, we’d have had to average a minimum of almost seven hours behind the wheel each day. With all the stops for toilets, fuel and food as well as slow downs for the roads during the first half of the route it ended up being quite a bit more than seven hours. From Anchorage to Lisa’s dad’s house in California we logged 3100 miles/5000 kilometers in seven days. It was a marathon. I’ve never sat on my ass so much in a week in my life, nor can I remember not doing a lick of exercise – other than quick stretching sessions when time allowed – over a period of seven days since I was a chubby teenager. It was not something any of us have the desire to ever repeat, but a necessary evil in the times we find ourselves. And it was worth it to be able to experience Alaska like we did over the preceding month.
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While the drive was unsavory, we did manage to have some fun in the evenings along the way at some great campsites in British Columbia. On all but one of our nights we camped by a body of water of some sort, which was a very nice way to be able to refresh ourselves after so long in the car. We took the Cassiar Highway south through British Columbia instead of the main Alaska Highway route: the Cassiar shaved off about 130 miles/210 kilometers and – so we’d been told – was a far more picturesque route than the alternative. It was a beautiful drive through the coastal mountains of British Columbia and, as the crow flies, took us very close to the inland side of many of the towns we visited on our way up the Inside Passage a month earlier. Countless rivers and picturesque mountains flanked the highway on both sides, we even spotted the last of the bears of our Alaskan journey munching on grass right next to the highway (in the photo below if you look closely you can see her three tiny cubs hurtling back through the grass to the safety of the forest).
Our night on the Cassiar was spent at Red Goat Lodge just south of the unincorporated town of Iskut. A beautiful spot where we camped a few feet from the shore of Eddontenajon Lake. The kids played in the water until bedtime and the sound of the lapping waves made for a solid night’s sleep for all of us. The owner of the lodge was quite the character, telling me to, “Get that f—ing mask off my face in his place of business” as I tried to pay him for a night at the campground. I noted that I hadn’t worn a mask in more than a month, but was just trying to keep the Canadian government happy, which sent him off on a monumental rant about fear-mongering politicians and simple-minded border policies. I have a feeling he may emigrate to the US just to be able to vote for Trump in 2024.
To her delight, Lisa hunted down a latte at remote Bell 2 Lodge along the southern section of our Cassiar route on day three, the first time I’ve ever seen a gas station offering heli skiing. I think I may have to return to Bell 2 someday! We left the mountains behind us at Kitwanga and turned east off the Cassiar, making it to Logan Lake for night three of four in Canada at the town’s excellent (and free) municipal campground alongside the water. The kids were in heaven with swimming and volleyball at their doorstep after dinner.
The southern section of British Columbia was raging with a handful of wildfires when we drove through, and the smoke made its way north to us at Fraser Lake as the sun rose on day four. We didn’t see the horizon until we made it to Logan Lake for night four, the smoke choking off the sun for the entire day of driving. The highway south was actually closed for a section of our route due to a wildfire that all but leveled the mountain town of Lytton in southern British Columbia, so we camped at the quaint enclave of Logan Lake near the behemoth Highland Valley copper mine for our last night in Canada. Such a massive operation, the mine stretched from one end of the horizon to the other. It was a striking transition from rolling farmland around Fraser Lake to the high desert near Ashcroft, such a stark contrast between lush and dry. The mountains around Ashcroft and Logan Lake actually reminded us all of the high desert of Nevada and Utah: saltbush and conifers covering the earth as far as the eye could see, and some seriously hot temps put the truck through its paces on some of the mountain climbs.
It was only a few more hours from Logan Lake to the border crossing at Sumas in Washington. The sweet girl who processed us through was decidedly more friendly than the Canadians at Beaver Creek four days earlier. After refueling in Sumas – at a price almost 30% less than the cost of diesel only a few miles north in Canada – we sniffed out the first fruit stand at a quaint family farm and loaded up on freshly picked Washington cherries and blueberries. And big surprise: COVID was over back in the US! We didn’t see a mask anywhere between the Washington border and Greg’s house in California: businesses open, indoor dining, the whole works. Maybe someone should tell Canada?
Another three days of driving and we were back in California with big hugs for Grandpa Greg. What a mission! We almost filled up Lilia’s notebook with all the games of hangman, and have some hilarious Mad Libs creations from the drive. Our Alaskan adventure now officially over, I need to jot down the tally of animals (which Max astutely kept track of during the trip):
- One golden eagle
- Two rock ptarmigans (and a handful of chicks)
- Two foxes
- Four moose
- 11 caribou
- 16 Dall sheep
- 24 bears (we lost count of the black/grizzly mix)
- More bald eagles than we could count
YOW, what a load of hassle you folks had … BUT … all is well that ends well! The LONG drive refreshed by lovely camp sites, and FINALLY Washington’s delicious fresh fruit. WHAT A GRAND ADVENTURE IT HAS BEEN!!!!!!!!! 💖🤗💖