Wild Wanderings: Watson Lake to Whitehorse: making decisions

Bridge over the Yukon River, 10pm at night

The Yukon River is a mighty river, one that I've been following now since crossing the Continental Divide (again) a few days ago.

The Continental Divide up here is more complicated than just east-west, like we're familiar with in the lower 48. In Canada, there there's also a northern divide: so rivers can flow south and east to the Mississippi, south and west to the Pacific, or north and west to the Bering Sea, or north and east to Hudson's Bay.

A small portion of the Signpost Forest

To make things more complicated, I learned today that the Yukon used to flow in the opposite direction, draining to the south. In past millennia, it was apparently blocked by an ice sheet at its southern (draining) end and reversed its direction, now flowing to the Bering Sea. I'm going to have to learn more about that, as that is tough getting my head around.

Watson Lake: Signpost Forest

A closer look at some of the signs

Watson Lake is home to a unique collection of signs from all over the world. I think there are currently over 83,000 signs there now, and more being added all the time. It has been designated a national historic site.

I didn't find any from Marin County towns, or Sioux Falls, but I'm sure there must have been some. They're not organized in any particular way; people just put them up where they find space.

Decisions: After talking to the nice ladies at the visitor center in Watson Lake, I seem to be at a crossroads myself, in more ways than one.

I need to decide what route to take now. The "Top of the World" highway between Dawson City and Tok closes after the first weekend in September (hadn't known this before), which means that I wouldn't be able to take it on the way back if I dally in Alaska. So, I've come to the conclusion that I'm going to take the Klondike Highway north to Dawson City, and enter the US at Little Gold Creek on the Top of the World Highway. This will mean a little longer to get to Northway and my mail pickup, but it will mean coming back on the all-weather Alaska Highway when I return in the fall. Hopefully it will be the fall.

Watson Lake: Wye Lake explorations

Red-throated grebe feeding one of her chicks

I really wanted to just take some time and try to get the rhythm of the trip back, after all the fretting and uncertainty of the past days.

Wye Lake is a relatively small lake within the city limits of Watson Lake, only incorporated in the 1970s. The townsfolk created a 3-km loop interpretive loop trail around the lake. I put the bigger telephoto lens on the camera and set out. I haven't had that much practice with it, and having had some less-than-clear photos, I really wanted to figure out how to get the best photos from it.

Red squirrel scolding

Part of the cool thing about coming up here is that there are a lot of animals and birds (and snakes and fish) that we don't have in the lower 48. Birds, especially, come north to breed in the summer, so many of them are in glorious colorful feather. One of the things I've wanted to do is take some time to see them!

I hadn't gone very far along the trail (passing one sleeping First Nations person), when I went out onto one of the viewing platforms, and saw a pair of red-throated grebes and two chicks! It was fun to watch them. The babies had striped necks, and were fluffy and very needy. The parents dove down into the water to get plants while the chicks swam around on the top of the water. As soon as a parent popped up, the chicks would make a beeline for the parent, who would feed it. The chicks eagerly gobbled up whatever tasty tidbit that the parent offered. This was repeated over and over. I wondered that the babies didn't dive themselves, but I only observed a chick diving once. And never flying.

Dwarf dogwood or bunchberry (Cornus canadensis)

A red squirrel scolded me from a tree. Squirrels are always amusing, and this one didn't disappoint. It felt very safe in the pine tree above, so could call me any names it chose!

Here forests consist of a diverse set of plants: conifers, including lodgepole pine and black and white spruce; a variety of deciduous trees including birch, aspen and alder; and a myriad of berries and flowers.

There were interesting interpretive signs along the way. I learned: that Arctic lupine (similar to other lupines) flowers fade to white once they have been pollinated, so that the unpollinated flowers continue to attract bees and other pollinators; that alder catkins are edible, high in protein, and can eaten raw or added to soups (the taste was resinous and a little bitter, but not unpleasant); that the flowers of the very prevalent fireweed are edible, too — perhaps I'll put them on my next salad!

Song sparrow (I think)

Berries of every size, shape and color are forming and ripening. I saw red buffaloberry (Shepherdia canadensis), tiny bunchberry (Cornus canadensus), black crowberry (Empetrum nigrum), cranberry, and raspberry.

I learned that Labrador tea can be brewed for a variety of ailments and was widely used by Athabascans and courier du bois. It probably should be used in moderation, as it may have some adverse effects.

It was so wonderful to be able to take the time to look and appreciate the plants and animals that made this forest their home.

If you stand or sit very quietly, you will sense wildlife all around you.

You will often hear birds, even if you can't see them. In fact, even when I KNOW they are there, and even after the move, flitting from branch to branch and breaking into song, I still cannot even see them, they are so well camouflaged.

Mew gull?

Then, of course, on the other end of the spectrum are the noisy birds who proclaim their presence loudly and repeatedly and seem to want to be noticed. There are crows and ravens, and then there are gulls. There was a flock of these soaring and screaming above the water. One of them perched at the top of a spruce tree (how does a gull with webbed feet do that?), and called over and over again, making as much of a commotion as the squirrel had. It was funny to watch him in the binoculars — he was so far away that there was an incongruity of seeing his mouth open to call, and then a short time later I'd hear the sound.

And then down by the water there was more activity. Sandpipers (have to figure out which of the many kinds of sandpipers these were), dabbled for food along the shoreline.

Sandpiper-y birds

And I saw another loon!

And then another pair of red-throated grebes, which were so handsome, I just had to take another photo. This pair did not seem to have any chicks in sight. I think the male is the one on the left. He's bigger, and with a bit more of a crest. I'd love to try to draw these someday...

There was supposed to be a letterbox here, too, but I couldn't find it.

Pair of red-throated grebes

Fireweed along the roadside

Moving on

As always, I seem to reluctantly move on, but it was a beautiful day, and I need to make some miles.

The stretch between Watson Lake and Whitehorse is scenic, but not spectacular, with lots of forest, but the wide swaths either side of the highway make for an open feeling.

I stopped near Big Creek Campground to successfully find a letterbox, named "Yukon High." It was right next to a curious contraption across the river: a hand tram (note to self, take a picture next time). I couldn't quite figure out how it actually worked, as I couldn't see a rope/pulley system, just a platform hanging from a cable, and it looked like there was no way to bring the tram back to you if you were on the wrong side.

This section of the highway is also known for messages along the hillsides or roadside made in rocks. There are names, hearts, initials, all spelled out in big cobbles. Some of these messages must be more than 10-15 feet high, as they are readily readable from the road.

Wild strawberries

We humans seem to want to make our marks on the world no matter what. It really is graffiti, but at least it's graffiti made from natural materials!

There were such fields of wildflowers! Bright pink fireweed grows everywhere here; it is the territorial flower of Yukon. (I am going to have to find out what's the difference between a province and a territory!)

The colors are simply amazing, and the fact that it was sunny didn't hurt — either my appreciation or the vivid color!

And... oMG. Wild strawberries. There were fields of them by the side of the road. These are such unassuming little plants. If you didn't get out and wander around (taking pictures of fireweed), you'd never know they were there. They are so small and sweet and flavorful. The very air was perfumed with strawberry scent.

Part of Rancheria Falls

I ate so many of them... my fingers (and surely my tongue and lips) were red with strawberry juice. These are tiny, most only 1/4" in diameter, but oh so good. The memory of their seedy goodness will linger long with me.

Rancheria Falls

There are relatively few parks along this stretch, so stopping at Rancheria Falls seemed like a good way to break up the drive. There was also a letterbox there, and I wanted to see if I could better my "finders average."

Not sure what I was expecting, but after the thundering wonder of Athabasca Falls, these were a little disappointing. Pretty, just not that exciting. And compared to Rancheria Falls near Hetch Hetchy, these were downright puny.

I guess if I were a trapper or someone traveling by canoe, these falls would be significant. But as a tourist, eh. I've seen more spectacular falls in the backcountry of the Sierra.

But I did find the letterbox!

Tlingit Country

Going north, there is more and more of a First Nation influence. Or, perhaps it is the balance of influence that has changed.

I have such a deep admiration for the First Nations people who managed to live in this country. The more I learn about how they used everything from the land around them, I wonder that we could not learn from them as well.

I was a bit surprised to find that the coastal art influence here was so strong. I'm somewhat familiar with the totemic and stylized art of the peoples in British Columbia, and that same art is found here. Of course, we're not that far from the coast — the highway travels as much west here as it does north.

Longest bridge on the Alaska Highway

Old truck at Campbell Highway intersection

Like the bridges, it's not all flowers and trees and natural things to see; there are manmade wonders to see here, too. At the intersection of the Alaska Highway and the Campbell Highway are some old, abandoned trucks left from when the Campbell Highway was built in the 1930s. It is easier to just leave things than haul them away. These trucks are actually historic artifacts that are protected by governmental law.

And the highway itself is pretty remarkable.

Also to add: Tlingit heritage center, swan preserve, Teslin Lake

But I will leave that for another time. Here's another sunset, for another day.