Faro had been a destination; an excuse to go somewhere that I hadn't been before. I guess I wanted to believe the hype, although I wasn't sure exactly what to expect, which is sometimes the best way to come into a place.
Faro, on the bluffs above the Pelly River, was named after a card game, like Keno City that I had visited earlier in this trip. As with many boom-and-bust towns, it enjoyed a heyday beginning in the mid-1960s when mining the lead/zinc ore was profitable, and at one time the mine there was the largest open-pit mine in the world. Profitability fluctuates with the price of metals, however, and the mine is no longer operating. People don't seem to talk about it much, but apparently there is quite a cleanup that is now going on. "Reclamation" is what it's politely called. It's an enormously expensive proposition, and apparently the Canadian government is on the hook for it.
The town's population has fluctuated with the profitability of the mine. In 1981, there were 2,000 residents. Just four years later, in 1985, there were only 97. Now there are about 400 people, and they are actively courting tourists to come to enjoy the scenery, wildlife and art in this remote area.
Frankly, the town is a very, very strange mix. On the one hand, there is obviously a lot of town pride. They even have a community golf course! The emerald green, well-groomed links at the center of town look strangely out of place in this remote place.
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| The "gas station" in Faro is a big tank. It actually took me awhile to find it since I was looking for something more commercial. I never did find the grocery store! |
Adjacent to the Visitor Center is an art gallery. Again, it is a very strange mix of art, with some lackluster photography; quite a number fine art prints and a few original paintings; crocheted scarves, mitts, and hats; one pair of beaded moccasins; some beaded "snowflake" jewelry; handmade soap and candles; and some carvings.
I was quite taken by some of the watercolors by Horst Berlow, an artist originally from Germany, who now calls the Yukon (Faro and Tagish) home. I would give a link, but it's surprisingly difficult to find his work online:
— Yukon News article about Horst Berlow
— Fishing Stream (original art)
The downside of Faro is that with the boom and bust, there are quite a number of derelict buildings, which were the housing built for the miners and their families during the boom times. Now, they are empty and, since there is no reason to keep them maintained, they are steadily deteriorating. There are new homes in the neighborhood, but apparently no one wants to live in these derelict, and frankly quite ugly, buildings. Again, it is an odd mix, since the old and the new are right next to each other.
Faro did have cell service, and there were a number of people clustered outside of the Visitor Center using the free wifi. Everybody went home promptly at 6pm.
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| Johnson Lake |
Johnson Lake
There was a government campground outside of town, and no one else was there. It was completely empty the night I stayed there, which gives you some idea of how off the beaten track this place is. The campground is on the hill above the very pretty, but otherwise unremarkable Johnson Lake.At the lake there was a float plane, and buoyed by the success of the previous day's drawing, I determined to just sit by the lake and draw the plane. I've never drawn a plane before! So here's the sequence of my effort, from sketch to not-quite-finished.
Unfortunately, it still needs more COLOR. I seem to have an inability to commit to color (but this was part of the reason for doing this bright red plane). I could also blame it on two things: the light changed over the course of the day, and secondly, the owner of the plane showed up with his daughter and two grandchildren in tow!
He was a robust man with a graying handlebar mustache, probably in his late 60s, who was a retired geologist (I assume he had worked for the mine), who, like most geologists, evidently enjoyed his beer. When we got to talking, it turned out he had gone to school at the University of South Dakota School of Mines in Rapid City! I knew it, as I had visited the campus and their excellent geology and paleontology museum there a couple of years ago.
Turns out the plane had developed a leaky pontoon, and he was here to see about fixing it. The "helpers" included three wild dogs, which raced around and scared off all the ducks (mallards, red-breasted grebes and some seagulls) in the neighborhood. These water birds know how to survive and kept a low profile while the dogs were around.
The four people fussed over the plane for quite some time. They ran a generator to power a vacuum to get the water and debris out of the pontoons, and used a soap solution to try to find the leaks. The two children, a boy and a girl aged between 8 and 12, alternately helped and complained. As the daughter (mom of the two kids) said, "I always wanted to be a pilot, but I never knew how much work it was to take care of a plane!"
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| The plane from another angle |
Unfortunately, with all the work they were doing, the plane did move. You might not be able to tell from the drawing, but it wasn't actually on the water; with the leak, it had been drawn up onto the shore.
So that's another reason I didn't really "finish" -- the angle of the plane changed as well as the light, and I'm not good enough of an artist to fill in the blanks and make the lighting and all the angles consistent.
But it was a fun project, at the gentleman seemed to get a kick out of the fact that I was drawing his plane! I was just happy that it was recognizably a float plane!
The ducks came back after they left.
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| Ducks on Johnson Lake (I'm still not sure what these are) |
Faro was just a bit of a letdown. It felt lonely and just... odd. There was supposed to be a waterfall and some good hiking, but I was starting to feel a little under the gun, since I had a phone meeting with my financial advisor the following day, and I had many miles on the South Canol road to get back to reliable civilization. I probably could have stayed in Faro, but... it just didn't feel right.
As I was leaving, the Nature Officer's official white truck, striped with green, trundled by, towing a small trailer with "DANGER: STAY BACK" printed on the side. Turns out is was a bear trap. It actually was the second time I'd seen this particular conveyance. Possibly another reason I didn't really want to be hiking in the area.
If I come back here, it may be interesting to see what I think of it the second time through.
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| Lapie Canyon near Ross River |
Lapie Canyon
Moving on was a wise decision. What treats there were in store!There is an awesome campground at Lapie Canyon. The Lapie River has cut an impressive canyon here, and this campground is where whitewater kayakers come to play. I would have happily stayed here. There was only one other person here (weekday night). Unfortunately, the sun was low in the sky, and so the photos are a bit too dark. I did have a nice meander along the river, though, appreciating the bright pink of the fireweed, and a field of anemones showing their puffy seed heads. It's like walking on a carpet of fluff.
I needed to push on, though, as I was committed to getting through this for my 1:30pm phone call.
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| Summer is passing: anemones gone to seed along the Lapie River |
Ross River: building bridges
I confess that the only reason I took the 10k detour to Ross River was to check off one of the sites in the Yukon Gold Passport.
In Ross River is the longest single-span suspension bridge in Canada, which crosses the river, and initially was used for the pipeline (see below).
Unfortunately, the World War II-era bridge is no longer safe, and was closed to traffic in 2013. Just this year, funding has been approved to renovate the bridge to accommodate pedestrian traffic.
I didn't understand this at the time I went, so it was a little freaky to see this big bridge swaying and creaking in the breeze, with large yellow "DANGER: DO NOT CLIMB" signs surrounding the south tower.
For all that, there actually was an extension ladder in place, connecting the safety of the ground with the creaky bridge 20 or more feet above.
I surmise that people are still using it, despite the danger of imminent collapse.
The only other way to cross the river at this point is to take a ferry. It runs short hours during the day, in summer, and the sign on it proudly says "Dawson Ferry." There is not much traffic here, and I guess no reason to repaint it to show its current status.
An aside: Dennis Shorty, one of Yukon's best-known artists (sculpture and carving) resides in Ross River.
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| The ferry, with the suspension bridge in the background. And unbelievably blue sky! |
South Canol Road
The Canol Road (North and South) were built at great expense during World War II to service a now-defunct oil pipeline. If this sounds like a cautionary tale, perhaps it is. The pipeline operated less than a year (1944-1945). After that, it went into disuse, but because there were some mining interests along the route, so it is now maintained as a "summer road" by the territory. I was just a bit apprehensive about taking it, especially after my recent experience on the Dempster. I did ask about it at the visitor center, and the woman there sort of shrugged, saying, "I never tell people how it is, because everyone has a different idea of how good or bad it is. Some people say it's just fine, others say it's terrible." That wasn't a very helpful description.The bottom line is: it's a dirt road.
It's steep in sections. Very potholed in many places. I was very glad I had 4WD, but nowhere did I think, "I can't make it."
But oh, my it is gorgeous scenery. The best on this trip so far.
I didn't get as many pictures as I would have liked due to time constraints, and because the light was fading.
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| Hoodoos along the South Canol Road |
It's remote, and there are so many places where I could easily have stayed.
The road winds up along the Lapie River. There are alternately canyons and broader river valleys. I didn't see that much wildlife, other than a porcupine. As you climb higher and higher, the rugged peaks rise above. There are tantalizing views up side canyons.
It's wild and desolate and HUGE.
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| Fading daylight on the South Canol Road |
There are not a lot of places to pull over, and it is definitely a one-lane road. Fortunately, no one was coming the other direction. One couple, driving a truck and hauling a trailer, did pass me. They were the only people I saw all evening.
At a certain point, the road reached alpine meadows, and this area reminded me SO much of Tuolumne Meadows. Open rolling meadows with tiny wildflower, dotted with small tarns. The terrain is very hummocky and deeply swaled, I guess from continued freezing and refreezing. It's green, and ringed with even higher mountains in every direction.
The sun had set; it was getting dark, and I figured I would get up early in the morning. I figured I had another 6 hours to drive (based on my experience so far), so it really was going to be a race. But I just wanted to stay here and drink it all in before heading back.
There was a float plane and house nearby, but the couple who had passed me and stopped here to fish had pushed on. So I had the lake pretty much to myself.
Sheer heaven.
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| 10pm. Sunset over Lapie Lakes |
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