The Northern Rockies Are Beautiful And A Nightmare / Beware / New Humility

Liard Hot Springs to Fort Nelson

I spent the night at a pullout near Contact Creek on the Alaskan Highway. I knew that Liard Hot Springs was something worth checking out. From the Alaskan border, the Highway threads its way from Yukon, south to B.C., back into the Yukon and back into B.C. You get to see the “Super, Natural - British Columbia Welcomes You” signs before you knew you had left its super-natural-ness.

So I found Liard Hot Springs and walked down the wooden boardwalk, over a steaming, shallow, geothermal swamp, through the forest to the pool. Except for a guy who was leaving, and two guys entering, the place was empty. The upper bath was closed due to a bear and her cubs seen in the area, a worker later told me. The upper bath was a 5 minute walk to the one I was in. Not much of a distance barrier.

But I changed into my trunks, waded in and relaxed in the sulfuric waters, which moved down a sort of creek. The waters here are not purposefully cooled down; they get up to 126F, but the water was naturally cooling off as it moved down stream.

I stayed long enough to feel I was sufficiently soaked and on the verge of over-doing it. I hit the road, knowing that I needed to get to Fort Nelson, 250 miles away in order to pay a dumb speeding ticket that I got in B.C. on my way to Alaska. I wanted to do it in person to make sure it’s hunky dory. So as I’m pulling back on to the highway I notice the rain is moving horizontally. And it’s bouncing off my windshield. This is because it’s freezing rain, sleet.

11AM:

The rain goes from flying ice to rain and back again for about an hour.

As I come around a turn, a huge elk is standing on the side of the road. I stop to get some video and after a few more turns, a few more elk appear near the road, and on the road.

Fifteen miles later a sign reads “Watch for buffalo”. And here come the buffalo. I pass one, then two, then a herd of them that are meandering around the road forcing me to stop again. When they finally move, I hit the gas and three minutes later I see a black bear to my right. He looks at me and runs back into the trees. Fifty yards later, there are two more buffalo.

I hit the Northern Rockies Lodge, gas up, and get moving. Now it’s snowing.

12PM:

The snow is going from light and fluffy to watery and back again, but the good thing is, it’s not sticking. Too warm. Especially too warm on the black top two lane highway.

1PM:

Now the snow is sticking. I’m slightly worried, but figure it won’t get much worse than this. I’m driving well below the speed limit.

I see some mule deer, then some skinny white tailed deer. They’re grazing in the side of the road and nonchalantly look at me as I pass. I thought it was interesting that they didn’t have deer in Alaska. Or at least that’s what I was told. Is it true? Must research.

The road begins to wind around a lake and as I take a slow turn, a big dark brown bear jumps out of a snow-covered bush about twenty feet ahead. I slam on the brakes and yell “Oh shit!” He lands on the side of the road and looks around. I stop about 10 feet from his huge head and look him in the eyes. Suddenly an 18-wheeler, that I didn’t know as there, starts to pull around me to pass, or had to move into the opposite lane to avoid hitting me, I’m not sure what, but he slams on the brakes. The bear leaps into action, scrambling faster than I’ve seen an animal move across the road, glancing back over his shoulder at the humans, to a steep embankment. He takes a moment then launches up the hill and lumbers into the trees. And all before I could get off a good shot. With my camera. Not my rifle. I don’t own one.


See the bear? He's in there.

1:32PM:

The weather is quickly getting worse, and the road is getting icier. It’s not melting into comfortable water that my oversized, but not snow-ready tires can slice through. It’s really sticking. And I’m driving very slowly.

And it’s a good thing because out of the snow flurries emerge another large species of animal. Reindeer. No kidding. I didn’t see that one coming either. First a few, then a small herd. They clomp around on the road in front of me and I slowly maneuver around them. Seems to be the trend. What next?

2:38:02PM:

Well, next is, the terrain becomes steep, and the snow is really coming down. Since I’m going up in elevation, the temperature is dropping. And since the road is a rollercoaster, five minutes up into worse weather and worse road, then five minutes down into slightly better weather and road, it’s a horrific replay of terror, then hope, then terror, then hope. I’m pushing a rock up a hill, and it keeps rolling back on me.

Meanwhile, as I’m crawling along, hoping I don’t have to put my chains on, trailer-hauling Chevy’s with four-wheel drive and snow tires are passing me by at full speed.

My only consolation is perhaps that their engines will fall apart 100,000 miles before the Tacoma’s will. And then I vow quietly to never get a truck without 4-wheel drive again. And damn these useless oversized tires! But I love you Tacoma, I love you. Just please get me to Fort Whatever-the-Hell.

I find a radio station to uplift my mood. The DJ comes on and introduces Britney Spears’ new hit single “Gimme More”, or some crap. I cannot die with Britney Spears on my radio. So I live on. Then I switch on some Mickey Avalon on the ipod. Good for sick energy… gallows humor.

3PM: No more animals, except one beast of a hill that’s covered in slushy, iced snow with a pair of faint tire tracks from whoever went ahead of me 20 minutes ago. Now the Tacoma is starting to slide. I detect quick losses of control even at 20 MPH. I’m not all over the place yet, but every couple of miles there’s a section of road that passes a long drop into a lake or canyon or river filled with bears, elk, reindeer and marmots ready to devour me. There seems to be no end to this Hell.

Suddenly a patch of slush sends me half way into the oncoming lane. So I pull over and put on the chains that I thought I’d never use on this trip. Thank you Boy Scouts. I’m brave, clean, reverent and prepared.

3:15PM With snow chains you can’t go over 20MPH or they might become undone and wrap around your axle. Then you’re really F-d. Especially in Northern B.C. (or am I in the Yukon?) But I’m going 20 anyways. Feeling a little better, though the road doesn’t seem to want to go down hill. We’re still on the rollercoaster. Then I see a frosted sign for an area called Summit. I say area because there are no towns on this section of highway, only roadhouses, four out of five of which are closed for the season or closed forever. Summit sounds like it should be the top. But it’s not.

4PM: Up and down, up and down. 15-20 MPH. Isn’t this September? What the hell is December like?

5PM: Finally relief. And more reindeer. After one last monster ridge climb and after 20 minutes of just rain and some freezing rain, I take the leap of faith that the worst is behind me. As I take off the chains, a guy in a Chevy with Alaska plates pulls up going the opposite way.

“Um, do you need chains up there?” he asks.

“Well, you’ll probably be alright. My tires just can’t handle it.” He smirks and drives off.

Around 5:30 I pull into Fort Nelson and it’s blowing sleet that later turns into snow. I have a hamburger at the A&W, where the girl offers me fries or poutin. I take the fries. I don’t want any more slush.

The RCMP station where I got square with British Columbia law enforcment:


We made it:


The humbling and beautiful Rockies in the rear view mirror: