June 2023

 

 

We knew that we had come to Sheridan for a reason but couldn’t remember what so, after 4 hectic days, took it easy with a local walk over downs which could have been in the south of England, had it not been for the warnings of rattle snakes and the imposing peaks to the West.  Dora got an overdue oil change and we caught up on paperwork.

Where Custer fell.

The Indian markers were added later

On Friday the 2^nd, North again to Bozeman, Montana.  Our route took us close to the Little Big Horn, so we stopped off to see the hill where George Armstrong Custer met his end.  We managed the timing well and arrived just in time for a ranger talk.  These are generally good but this one was exceptional: he was a journalist and knew how to tell the tale.  We were enthralled for 40 minutes.  Let’s just say that the story you know isn’t all of it.  The battlefield is supposedly the only one in the world where an attempt has been made to place markers where each man (except, of course, the Indians) fell.  As they ordered 240 markers for 210 men, some inaccuracies may have occurred.  Although the Americans came second in this last battle they nonetheless won the war and took back the lands that they ‘gave away’ in perpetuity only 5 years before.

Out for a walk.

Bozeman is the supposed locale of the TV series Yellowstone and parts are recognisable though most of the series was actually shot in Utah.  We had charge of an Australian Cattle dog which had enough energy to comfortably out-walk us.  A local park was good for ball retrieving, with a few pools to cool off in in when she became over heated.  20 minute drives took us to nice country walks over rolling hills.  Excitement when Elsie discovered that there was a weekly Rodeo turned to disappointment when it was cancelled because a monster truck show had cut up the ground and made it unsafe for the competitors. 

Alpine meadows near Bozeman

Next destination was Columbia falls, for the Glacier National Park, staying in a parked 5^th wheel R.V. Unfortunately, we were just a little too early in the season and the big attraction ‘Going to the Sun’ road was closed, which severely limited the useable area.  We caught the end of a ranger talk on bears and what to do on meeting one, then went for a hike along McDonald lake through what seemed like very bear-friendly country.  For the first mile or so there were plenty of other people but the trail became less and less populated and the few people we did see were all wearing bells and carrying bear spray so we kept a very wary eye out.  (We hadn’t bought spray as we didn’t know whether we could take it into Canada – subsequent check shows that we can).

Glacier National Park.

Our route out of the park (on a road that was listed as closed) took us down a dirt road alongside the North fork of the Flathead River and we noted many people in rafts going down. Since we were otherwise going to be at a loose end the following day, we decided to try it for ourselves.  We had a choice of ‘scenic drift’, suitable for seniors and young children, or ‘white water’.  I convinced Elsie that she wouldn’t enjoy the company of other people’s toddlers and booked the latter.  On the morning of the trip, She informed me that she would not paddle but sit in the bottom of the raft.  O.K.  On check-in we were informed that everyone paddled.  O.K.  Boarded the bus.  “Is this the first time for anyone?”  Most of us put up hands.  “Right, this is a bus: you sit on the seats and face forward.”  And that was the best gag of the day.

Kitted up.

Disembark bus to find that there was a shortage of paddles and Elsie didn’t get one so was able to use both hands to hold on but still had to sit with one cheek on the side tube and one on a thwart.  Out into the stream.  Holding tight.  First rough water.  White knuckles.  First rapids. Hoots of joy.

Into the rapids.

A refreshing dash of water.

Elsie, wisely, takes cover.

6 class 2 and 3 rapids later, we were well soaked and full of joy.  The last mile or so was a gentle drift and Elsie volunteered that it would have been boring if it had all been like that.

On Tuesday, over the border to Canada and on to our next sit in the south of Calgary.  The ideal route would have been through the park, but the road was still shown as closed, so we went round the edge, only to find a road closed on that route also. 

The land office at Pincher Creek.

Our route took us close to Pincher Creek, where I knew that an ancient relative had been a notable in pioneering days, so we diverted and went to the museum where his house and land office are preserved. One of the guides, dressed in what he thought was period costume but actually made him look like Chico Marx, wanted to engage us in long conversation but time was limited so, after a good look at the exhibits, we continued on our way.   

A bit of family history.

We had a relaxing time in Calgary, looking after a small, elderly dog.  My brother Albert and family live here so we had several meals and walks in their company.  Elsie has relatives living in Saskatchewan and her cousin Ian, whom she had not met since for 57 years, and his wife Verna drove down to spend the weekend with us.  We also met Verna’s sister, Linda, who’s partner has a motor yacht on Vancouver island.  Maybe we will meet up again later in the year.

 

Bragg Creek, near Calgary.

It was now time for our major drive.  From Calgary to Prudhoe Bay is 2500 miles on roads of varying quality and several other hazards.  The wildfires, smoke from which had affected us down in Colorado, were still burning and we kept a daily watch on their progress.  Some were very near the road that we were intending to take and, should it be closed, diversions were many hundreds of miles long.

 

At the glacier.

We left Calgary on Wednesday 21^st heading initially West, to Banff, then North up through the Banff and Jasper National Parks.  I had intended to stop at Johnston Canyon for lunch, but the road was closed so we continued up and had a later stop at Columbia Icefield followed by a walk up to the toe of the glacier.  This was several hundred feet further up the hill than it was when I had first visited in 1997. 20 miles past Jasper to our night stop.  Thursday’s route took us past the area worst affected by the fires and we knew that the road had been recently closed so were a trifle concerned.  The rain, which had kept us under shelter for much of our stay in Calgary had, fortunately, dampened down the fires but there were now flood warnings.  Fortunately, we managed to skirt these and made it to Dawson Creek, the start of the 1365 mile Alaska Highway.  This was built in 1942 – 44 by Canadian soldiers who had been mobilised for war but had not yet been sent to Europe.  As well as obligatory stops for photos, we had a pleasant walk through woods.

 

Mile 0.

Next, Fort Nelson, staying in a rather run-down motel. The Northern Alberta landscape did not inspire with agriculture, oilfields and managed forestry. The next day, we drove through wonderful scenery of Wokkpash and Muncho Lake provincial parks to cross into Yukon, and Watson lake.  It was a day with plenty of wildlife, with sightings of moose, bison and black bears. We stayed at a slightly nicer hotel, though the attached restaurant did not meet with Elsie’s approval.  A shame, as we will be staying there again on the way down.

 

Black bear.

On to Whitehorse, the capital of Yukon and by far the largest settlement with about 30,000 of the 40,000 total population.  Lunch stop was at  a clearing in the woods.  We went for a walk first and failed to see any wildlife apart from butterflies and grass-hoppers.  This was rectified as, for the next hundred miles, there were frequent black bears grazing in the road-side vegetation. After checking in, we went for a rather damp walk and found a bar with gluten-free pizza, which fed us well that evening and, by using a take-out box, the following day’s lunch as well.  That was taken at Haines Junction which also provided a nice walk through the woods with views towards Kluane National Park.  We skirted this through the afternoon and had some lovely scenic views and a closer than expected sighting of our first grizzly bear which was, like the previous day’s black bears, grazing by the roadside.

Grizzly.

Our next stop, for 2 nights, was at the most western settlement in Canada, Beaver creek.  On planning, I had done no research and assumed that this would be a pleasant place to spend a rest day.  I was wrong.  A one-horse town, and that one should have been sent to the knackers years ago.  We tried to go for a hike near the border with Alaska but the trail was completely overgrown. We tried again halfway back to our motel but were swarmed with more midges than you would find in the Scottish highlands.  On getting back to the car, Elsie voiced what we had both been thinking for the last few days:  if we were to continue to hike in these remote areas, we really ought to get ourselves some bear spray.  

Haines Junction.

On Thursday, across the border to Alaska and onwards to Fairbanks, where we were to sit a dog for a week.  The first few hours of the journey were pretty awful with rain, road works (including 2 X 20 minute delays) and long stretches of unmade road.  From Tok onwards, it improved greatly with fine weather and many long straights including one of 20 miles, almost equalling the record set back in New Mexico.  We settled in and, apart from giving our hosts a lift to the airport at 5 AM, had a quiet Friday.  We took the dog for a walk in local woods, got bitten by many mosquitos and encountered some very boggy ground but, as Mrs Lincoln said, apart from that we enjoyed ourselves.

Route.

Monthly road miles: 3482.