Teslin Tlingit Village

June 8th

Atlin Lake, BC, is where we will stay two nights, because it is heaven. The largest lake in BC, an hours drive, off the beaten path from the Alaska Highway, a side-track from heading to Whitehorse, and an idyllic alternative to slumbering in the Walmart parking lot. The Milepost bible sold me by describing Atlin as the shangri-la of the north, with population of 350, and of course, this immense and tranquil lake.

This has been one of my favorite days, with leaving our Yukon camp site by the Rancheria River this morn, and visiting Teslin, a Tlingit village, really, of only a very few hundred. The cultural center was this lovely, landscaped acreage by the lake of the same name, tribal land most likely, with the entrance walk lined by 5 brightly colored totems (carved in 2009) signifying the clans of the Teslin Tlingit (prononced "Klingit) tribal council. The receptionist in the museum, center, shared that the elders told the young ones not to touch, do anything to totems ever, and to allow them to just live their lives naturally. She said they never asked why. Mark heard these current and historical family symbols were supposed to be allowed to return to the earth. He found one on its side in the forest, on Village Island, part of the BC Burrough Islands, when he and Gail were sailing, over 8 years ago. The park ranger he encountered was not even aware of this totem, and Mark led him to it.

This Tlingit greeter offered us freshly brewed coffee, and to watch a film on their annual festival, to which surrounding Tlingits and public are invited. Members from the Atlin tribe flew in a cornucopia of fresh salmon for their contribution, since the Teslin tribe found salmon difficult to access. The film was joyfully and well-done, sharing the dance, drumming and story-telling festivities of the July bash. The Tlingit accent reminds me of the sing-songing, clicking rhythm and melodies of the Kootenai and Spokane tribal members.

The exhibit of wooden masks, beech boxes (used for storing precious familiars), intricately beaded clothing and octopus bags, moccasins, jewelry was a small yet very tasteful and well chosen display of quality. Even the gift shop showed similar consideration in items presented aesthetically. I bought a cool black t-shirt, with a minimalist graphic design of the exterior of the center and the totems, and fun red slip-on canvas shoes with a Tlingit design. Mark left me to indulge myself, having been trained by Gail in another life, about not rushing us female shoppers. Thank you Gail, for another tribute to creating this sweet, dear man. The younger woman replacing the original woman of my age, at the reception desk, was pleasant, attractive, with lighter brown hair, lovely moon-shaped face, with ethnic-hip dress with pearls. She married a Tlingit, and when I said she was something, too, turns out she is Salish from the interior, and has lived in Teslin for over twenty years.

Margaret was the craftswoman in the corner of the open-aired, light-wooded building, with windows looking out to the lake and a lovely deck. She had tables set-up with her moose and caribou hides, and all the simple tools to transform the stiff, almost translucent hides to soft, solid, maleable leathers. She soaks the stiff hide three times in a bar soap solution, until they are soft and become white. Then, for color for those who prefer, she stretches these and smokes them with a certain wood and pine cones, until a soft, lovely caramel hue. There were several pair of beautiful mid-calf moccasins she had made, with caribou soles for snowshoes, and canvas body, ringed at the top with more leather and ties.

At 13 y.o., her mother called her to come, said it was time she learned the multi-generational craft and ritual from her and the grandfather. The girl balked, wanted to continue what ever play she was pursuing, asked why she had to, since she wasn't the oldest child, and was told she is the one to assume the family rhythm and art. Beading was also taught her. Before her mother passed, the parent told Margaret she regretted not having had time to make her two sons jackets, which Margaret promised she would fulfill for her parent. Tlingit do not create a headstone for their loved one for a year, and by that ceremony, her brothers received their gift from the sister, of two red clothed coats, beaded on the front with two birds (I forgot to ask which) and the back with a killer whale (which is what she calls an orca). She was proud sharing the photo of one with me, and then showed me the quote from her aunt, about women's character becoming good, hard workers. She had a girlish, soft, enthusiastic, open spirit, Margaret did, with a lovely light chestnut complexion, square faced (like my own), and bright, cheerful eyes. When I asked if I could take her picture, she said, "Let's make this something," and picked up both caribou and moose hides, draping them over her forearms, and had a huge, prideful smile. She gave me her card and her boss', asking if I may write his website, about my experience with her, how she did, which I will follow-through with for this charming, genuine sista.

 

 

Mark then came back, not believing I could still be shopping, and met me at another table where I was told, if I asked, this other gal may show me the center's new auction acquisition of a man's coat that was hundreds of years old. Two women were preparing the vibrant rust-colored, beaded, three-quartered coat for storage, and gently uncovered the tissue paper protection, for us to photograph, and drool over.

We left this center where I felt a "home," and would have liked to have spent more time in this special Teslin community, but world famous cinnamon rolls called us to Johnson's Crossing, the next village, Mark has been salivating over from the beginning of the trip. The rolls were huge, warm and had that burnt sugar on the bottom with a bit of icing---delicioso! And here we sit at Atlin Lake, for some lovely down-time and slumming.

Laird Hot Springs

June 7th

Liard Hot Springs was a highlighted vision and a welcomed soak, through a light grey-brown boardwalk through woods with pink, white and yellow wildflowers, bogs, small meadows.     The simple, cedar colored buildings housed two changing rooms, and restrooms were further up the hill. Natural springs with gradated temperatures, were bordered by the gentle woods and flowers, with nicely bottomed black gravel. People who made it to the upper boiling hot pool, marked their feat with cairns on larger water rock.

 

 

We met Maureen from Colorado, traveling alone in her Tacoma truck, with some form of tent pop-up camper on it, that she could take to 4-wheeling environments. There was a story in this woman, who sold her home in CO, hit the road, heading to Alaska, too, with her Boston terrier, Emerson, nicknamed Emmy. When she hikes, Maureen carries a wide arsenal of a 12-gauge shotgun, machete knife, bear spray, and Emmy who sometimes rides  in a sling. Evidently, at some trail, the Bosty ran at a black bear, who latter huffed, and "wonder woman" shot over the critter's head, scaring it off, needless to say. Mark thought she may be relaying her protective armory, for public knowledge, so others know she is not a gal to be messed with. We speculated a recent divorce, death of partner, with adult children in Seattle and Missoula, freeing her next step in life. He mentioned his kids being in Seattle and Coeur d'Alene, and maybe a perfect middle point for her. Maybe we'll cross trails with Maureen again.

There was a pleasant lady from Quebec, who is also retired, but for several years, and she and her spouse are traveling with no time constraints. Her French accent was strong, and she struggled with English, but engaged openly and curiously, way better than I could have in French, I acknowledged.

 

Many European tongues surround us throughout Canada; many Germans, Dutch, other Canadians traveling in rented RVs. Tour buses are less frequent, thankfully, and we shared a picnic table lunch in Lake Louise earlier, with two Dutchmen; one the driver and the other the guide, for a tour bus of Germans. Have also seen groups of Asians and middle-Easterners. One young man of the latter ethnicity, had a "Blah, blah, blah.." apple green" t-shirt on, and was a funny ham, posing by Peyto Lake with a serious profile shot. We laughed at him, good-naturedly, of course, and he did too. Throughout the next couple days, we ran into him, with his party of three women, the youngest with a burka.

Everyone we passed on the way to the hotsprings walked slowly and looked so blissed-out, and we joined the club afterwards, as well. It started drizzling just as we got to "M" just about lunch-time, so it was so cozy making grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. Love it!

 

 

Laird Hot Springs Bison

Being so relaxed, we drove and pulled into a campground by the Rancheria River, tired, and watched the Ken Burn's documentary on Lewis and Clark, the first part, and were  mesmerized by the quality of it. We started laughing realizing it was 11 p.m., when it was over. It now stays light until after midnight, closer to Alaska we get, so we play and/or talk later these days, as well.

Lynx

June 6th

Made it to Summit, the highest elevation on the Alaska Highway. We rode our mountain bikes, 1.5 miles (and walked them about half of that, after swearing to myself, while my thighs burned again, after our last Jasper hill-raiser) to the trailhead to Flowers Lake. This was a 3.5 mile hike through bogs, tundra, ponds, streams, up and down Sound of Music hills, landscapes, surrounded by lightly forested, tundra'd hills, and rock and striated mountains where stone sheep should have been.

There were multiple fires on both sides of the highway, the flagger gal said, so the sky was hazy. Smoke tended to create some cool, rose-colored mushroom cloud-like formations, that reminded us of atomic 'rooms. Luckily, the smoke did not follow us further on.

 

Two young couples and their 4 dogs (2 Chesapeake retrievers, a German wirehair, and Australian shepherd) caught up to us so quickly, and they walked vs. riding bikes up the road, so we waved them on ahead of us. Flowers Lake was partially full, and Mark had witnessed it so, two years ago. It was still a lovely teal blue, and the sparsely snow-capped mountains surrounding it were awesome. After snacking on trail bars, mix and bagel, we got a headstart in front of the young 'uns, and Mark wanted to have a better chance of wildlife, without the dogs. I spotted an elk and her calf across the hill from us, and the mother kept looking over at we potential threats, guiding her baby upward and over out of sight.

 

 

At the trailhead, the young folks, again caught-up to us, and we had the nicest chat with them all. They were from Fort Nelson, south of Summit, and the two guys were technical workers for one of the local big energy plants, one gal a barrista and taking online college courses and with past job doing mental health work, the other woman worked in a dental office. Several strongly recommended we camp at Muncho Lake. The ride down the service road was fun; although up and down, I am a magnet for most of big rocks in the road.

 

We decided to shower at Muncho Lake camp, but Mark got fatigued, after we discovered a perfect free provincial recreation site, when looking for a geocache, right by Toad River! It  was our first night by the river camp, so far, with an old wooden and steel bridge above us, with little traffic. When Mark went looking for another geocache, while I was enthralled with my fun read, The Boat Who Wouldn't Float, I heard voices, listened for more and couldn't hear anything else. He came back, all excited about meeting a lynx on the bridge road, said he yelled twice for me, but figured that may scare-off the cat.

We walked the trash to the dumpster at a further away camp-site, and Mark looked over into trees, and there stood a taller than I expected, calm and majestic lynx. At first, I was nervous, thinking she was a small cougar, but then saw her upright, fur-tipped, pointed ears and her manchu-like jowls. The three of us stood there just staring at eachother, muttering nonthreatening endearments to her. She was so comfortable in her security and curiosity of us, that she laid down, and occasionally gazed to her right, and then slowly back to us. Mark got several beautiful poses out of her, and when zoomed to view, were startlingly elegant and lovely.

Her eyes were like a painting of a regal Asian beauty, so human-like, and framed by those upright tufted ears and graceful long wisps on both sides of her mouth. Made our day, truly.

Trailer Lights Repair

June 5th

Drove into Fort St. John, where Mark found wires he needed at the one-stop-shopping  Canadian Tires. He loves this store and I see why, with it's technical, auto, trailer stuff, and housewares supplies, reminding me of a large ACE Hardware. It was a comfort for him to repair the trailer lights in the parking lot, in case he needed anything else. He is so organized and thorough, bringing out his body-long taped together length of cardboard to lay on, while he reclined and made the lights work! Yay...we both felt so much more secure, now being able to notify those behind motorists of our direction. Lunched at Quizno's for Mark's reward.

 

Beautiful drive through this BC, with valleys of the deepest blankets of forest, and majestic mountains and unique peaks, with dubbings of Steamboat, Indian Head. We stayed on a turnout overlooking the valley, sharing it at a respectful distance, with a couple, their RV, and 2 cats in a tent, named Bear and Bait. Had BBQ'd salmon burgers outside that gorgeous evening.

Watched Lone Ranger that night, still mesmerized by that masked childhood hero, and laughing too, simultaneously at how poor Tonto was given such a rip-off script of one or two syllabled English words, and the Ranger climbing with those high-heeled boots, with a dummy falling past him.

Mile 0

June 4th

Left Pocahontas, and the boat inspection university gal raved us on for breakfast, to The Old Grind in the nearby town, Hinton, which was okay food, but a cozy community gathering coffeehouse gift shop, with all ages served that morning, including three generations of grandmothers, daughters and grand-babes.

We then spent about 3 hours in Grand Prairie looking for a converter/module for the trailer

lights, and left exhausted, but grateful to find the part. Rewarded ourselves with dinner at Tony Roma's.

Hooray! We made it to the "0" mile marker, the start of the Alaska Highway, in Dawson Creek!!!

I was driving "M," getting used to down-shifting when needed again, and Mark and I were singing to the Eagles, when we got there, and he starts getting all excited, directing me to circle around totally, the roundabout in that town, and now I am confused, turned the music off. He got me to the quiet town center, to that "0" mile monolith marker, and we parked our big 'ol "M" right alongside the right-angled parking lines, and Mark choreographed me to stand at that tribute, where I jumped up and down, yaying for his photo shoot. Frozen yogurt at a fun, funny Menchies, was our celebration and reward for getting to the infamous highway, built in one year, amazingly, 1942-1943, by the American military engineers and Canadian like, in order to prevent the Japanese, who had just bombed Pearl Harbor, from taking the Alaska Aleutian Islands. Knowing this feat, makes us appreciate the tenacity, the motivated duty to protect our North Americans, that these soldiers and civilians succeeded in creating in so brief a period. It is mind-boggling.

That night, we camped at Kiskatawni, above the river and campers playing guitar, walked down to the oldest and only wooden bridge left, constructed by the Al-Can engineers, in l942-l943, and slumbered.

Mountain Biking

June 3rd

Well, today we saw at least 6 elk, several with the biggest racks in velvet ever, a squirrel, and a humongous pile of the blackest bear scat in the middle of the trail we were riding our mountain bikes on, coming from Maligne Falls. It was my first real mountain bike ride, since we have had these kinds of bikes in ID, for country road riding only. Mark and his kids have ridden mountain trails for years, and I was impressed that he seemed so confident and adept in his stamina and endurance, especially a long upward highway pedal and weaving in and out of roots and rocks on narrow trails, setting a pace I had to calm myself for, in order not to panic when squeezing the brakes.

 

 

Until he discovered the previous trail he rode 2 years ago, we had to walk along a very narrow walking trail with other tourists, until we pushed and grunted the bikes up this almost vertical dirt channel to the upper bike trail that was the one he graced before. It was fun riding, and when I thought I sighted the "M" in the parking lot we started from, was when I got so excited I rode off the road and fell, thank God, onto a grassy slope. No harm.

 



 

The wonderful part of both being so exhausted, sweaty and stinky after 3 hours, was that we were able to take showers in "M" right there. Each of us also got to recline on the sofa with our feet up, while the other bathed. Heaven, really! We then lunched, listening to the thunder and rain we timed just right in missing.

Off to Jasper, for gas, marketing and wifi for emails I got to send, and left Lucy another voicemail to hers. She received our email last night, and sounded fine. We sleep tonight by another sweet creek, without all the wind from the last two nights' river camp (which was fine, however), in Pocahontas campground, and head out towards the Al-Can Highway tomorrow, which is pretty exciting to me. Sleep, may it be solid and out.

Bears and Moose

June 2nd

 

Gadzooks...today was wildlife day, with sightings of 6 bears, including a mama and two cubs at Medicine Lake, one that was treeing, and a young male ranger asked me nicely to get back in the car, due to the latter, which I witnessed then and complied with. Right before we drove up, there were at least 8 people at the side of the road, as well as sitting on the ledge, watching the mom and cub, which may have been a stressor for the animals. This makes 11 bear sightings, in 4 days for us, thus far.

 

In addition to the bears, we also saw 3 mule deer, spawning rainbows on Maligne River, a bald eagle (which Mark saw right at the north side of a railroad bridge, the ranger had just described to him earlier, where two perch on snags at the end of the structure), and then 3 lovely elk with racks in velvet, as we were strolling at dusk, along a trail to the river, in our Snaring campground. Neither of us have ever been so close to these proud animals, about 50 feet, and Mark had to go back to photograph them.

The day was spent more leisurely, due to Mark's exacerbated nausea and exhaustion, but still so pleasant, driving to Maligne Lake surrounded by a ring of Rockie Mountain peaks and more glaciers, and lunching on a delicious beef stew and pastry in the lodge. We stopped, walked to photograph the bears at Medicine Lake, the spawning trout on the bridge over Maligne River, and then shopped for a b'day gift for Kyra, got ice cream being craved for, and back to our camp in Snaring on the river of the same title. Ended the day with that walk by the elk and the lightning-speeded Snaring.