Doubling back doubles the pleasure

Tuesday, July 3, 2007

PELLY CROSSING, YK — We have been to so many trailer campgrounds in the month we have been on this voyage, that it’s sometimes hard to remember what happened where or when. Tonight we are making that task even more challenging, because we are back at Pelly Crossing for the second time, and we are parked in the exact same site as before!

It is exactly one month ago today that we left Ottawa, and when we look at our map it amazes us to see how far we have traveled. We’re at the 63rd parallel now, which positions us north of Moosonee, north of Rankin Inlet — even north of the southernmost tip of Greenland! And we will get even further north than that before our trip is over; we have decided to drive the Dempster Highway up to Inuvik.

People who know about the Dempster understand what we are undertaking. We had an inkling when we saw the number of enterprises around here offering windshield repairs, tire replacements and complete vehicle and RV wash services. The coating of brown mud that you pick up on that long, unfinished route is worn like a badge of courage by those who dare to take on the challenge. We are going to drive up in a week or two, after we do our circuit through Alaska, but today on our way back from Dawson City, we turned up a kilometer or so for an idea of what it’s like, and to make it possible for Mum to brag that she too had driven the Dempster. We were happy to learn, at the gas station at the entrance of the highway, that we can park our RV for the few days we need to get up there and back — and free of charge. That will make it much less hazardous, and we won’t have to muck out the entire insides of dust when we get back.

We chuckled when we saw a mini-van pass us by, heading back from there, filthy with caked-on mud in which was proudly scrawled in large, capital letters, DEMPSTER. My perceptions were so set by this time that, when we stopped at the interpretive sign describing the highway’s flora and fauna and history, I read Changing tires when the title really said Changing times!

On one of the panels was a photo of a large muskox with humped shoulders, long curled horns and a thick, moulting coat. “Boy,” Mum said, “I wouldn’t want to run into that creature on a dark night!” Then she immediately brightened and said, “but then again, up here there is no night, so that’s not a problem!”

Once we were back on the Klondike Highway, heading for Whitehorse (so that Mum can catch her plane on to Victoria and Vancouver), we stopped to look at Gravel Lake, a favourite spot for many kinds of migrating birds. We took out the binoculars, and spotted a handsome pair of white swans which were rather ungracefully up-ending themselves to find food at the bottom of the lake. Mum and Val even caught sight of their little cygnet nearby.

We stopped again at the Moose Creek Lodge for lunch and, since this time it wasn’t rainy, we could stroll around outside as well. The owners have quite a sense of humour; they have fashioned an enormous mosquito out of knarled wood and makeshift wings, even dabbing the end of its stinger with red paint for blood! There’s also a trapper’s log cabin in which the tenant lies on his cot, dressed in overalls and a plaid shirt. A bear skin hangs to dry from the ceiling and in the corner is his tin bathtub and snowshoes. Out in front of the lodge are two whimsical moose with real antlers and heads and bodies made of logs. We arrived at the perfect time, as a busload of tourists were just pulling away. The woman who served us was the same one from our last visit and even remembered that Val had ordered a buffalo burger. As for me, I preferred the carrot ginger soup and homemade bread.

Mother Nature smiled on us once again, allowing us to settle into our campsite before opening the skies to send down a steady shower, washing down the truck and trailer, free of charge. Now, as evening approaches, the skies have cleared and a host of birds are serenading us.