Inuvik, eventually. . . and then I'll just wander around.

Awesome trip....Even better that you did it in a "non regular expo rig!" The ole zuk is awesome. I always had a soft spot for those. I like the xl7 in that body style for the extra bit of rear cargo storage. I need to get going on some trips.

Thanks! I figure an XL7 would be nice every night when I cram myself in the Tracker to sleep, but the short length is nice with how tight a lot of spots get around home for me. I definitely notice the difference from my previous Gen1 Xterra, and that wasn't even a very big truck to begin with.

nice trip! brings back a lot of great memories from my trip up that way two years ago.

Thanks! I'm actually still out and about - I've just not had much sustained internet access for anything more than the odd instagram upload.
 
I've not had much internet access the past while, and I've been kind of busy, so I figure I'll do a couple quick updates:

When I last left off, I was waiting on the northern banks of the Pelly River, as I'd missed the last ferry crossing for the day, and would be unable to keep moving until I could get to Ross River in the morning. I fired up some dinner, and settled in for a rare boring early night. At some point, while I was just getting started at my food, a couple trucks came down the road and stopped at the ferry landing on the other side of a small wooded patch from my spot.

First, though, to give a bit of context, Ross River is along the Canol Road, which was built by the US Army during WWII with an accompanying oil pipeline and refinery, to supply Alaska due to fear of attacks on the normal shipping routes. At Ross River, both the road and pipeline had to cross the Pelly River. There's a cable ferry for vehicles, and the pipeline was carried across by a suspension bridge that also doubled as a footbridge. That bridge still stands, but has been deemed to be in imminent danger of collapse. To keep people off, they've removed the stairs to the span, but enterprising locals had built a makeshift ladder using a section of Moduloc fencing propped upright, from which you then use a dangling cable to hoist yourself up until you can grab the bridge itself and pull up to the walkway. Sketchy stuff, but also provides a window into life in these underserved northern communities, where folks work and hunt on the north side of the river, and the ferry only runs limited hours.

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The bridge and ferry.

So, back to dinner. I'm just starting at my same old rehydrated vegetables when a couple teens stroll through the trees, cross the clearing over to the bridge, and clamber up to the walkway as though the access were a regular stairway. They're already halfway across when another two guys enter the clearing, yelling over to ask the teens how they got up there.

"You just kind of get up! It's not a big deal," one shouts back.

These guys are bigger, older, and heavier, but they've figured it out within a minute or so, and are soon up on the bridge. Another has come through the trees, and shouts for them to wait up because he didn't see how they got up there. Not wanting to intrude too much,I put my head back down to my bowl until I hear a clatter. I look up to see the third man, legs flailing, dangling from the end of the bridge by his fingertips with the makeshift ladder in a heap below him.

From here, it all kind of jumbles into one long instant. I'm up and running over. His friends get a good hold on his arm, and he's able to pull up enough to get something of a grip on a beam coming from the very end of the bridge. Two more men come through the trees, not expecting anything like this type of drama, and are quickly over to help. I'm the first to reach the bridge, and realize that the man's legs are out of my reach. I start grabbing the fencing and whatnot, trying to clear out a landing patch from the rubble. One of the newcomers joins me down below, while the other is tall enough to almost get his arms under the dangling man's legs, hopefully giving him something of a platform if his grip on the bridge doesn't hold. Once we've cleared a safe-ish landing zone, the taller man catches, supports, and lowers his friend for a split second, resulting in a surprisingly graceful two-stage descent from the bridge.

At this point, I'm not sure the group has even realized that there's a stranger with them, and so I say a quick hello before heading back to my dinner while they postgame a pretty wild situation. After a moment, they call me over to share some food and swap some stories. I learn that they live and hunt up at the end of the North Canol Road, at the border between the Yukon-Northwest Territories, and have headed south to make it to Whitehorse for the annual Hand Games Championship, a meeting for traditional games of the region. When I asked how they got past the bridge work that had halted my trip up the Canol, they say that they just told the construction team that they'd better clear the way, and had a makeshift detour built within an hour.

When I mentioned that I was also headed to Whitehorse to wait out the bridge construction, I was told not to miss the hand games. On their enthusiastic recommendation, I figured I ought to check it out. The next day I putted down the South Canol Road, which was a spectacular drive made less enjoyable by my striking out on the northern segment, to Whitehorse and then spent the day after taking care of some errands, having a much-needed shower, and wandering aimlessly around the town.

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South Canol scenery.

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One of the old trucks used in the road's construction.

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Whitehorse.

Feeling refreshed, I set off around noon the next day to the Hand Games Championship at Lake Laberge, figuring I'd pop my head in for a bit before heading to Ross River to head up the North Canol again, having learned that the bridge was again passable. The Games were an awesome experience. I was somewhat intimidated and uncertain; I'd be showing up by myself, unfamiliar with the games, the culture, or the area, but it ended up one of those travel experiences that you simply can't plan. I awkwardly shuffled around for a few minutes before meeting one of the men from the bridge, Robertson, who immediately recognized me as "the bush man." We got to talking, and then I was introduced to a few others, quickly ordered to sit down with some soup and bannock, and spent much of the day chatting and experiencing something that I'd never have seen - or even known - if it weren't for a chance encounter at a dilapidated bridge along an old pipeline road.

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The scene at the Hand Games Championship
 
After another night waiting for the ferry at Ross River, I was off again up the Canol. This time it was mostly sunny, and the trip was uneventful aside from the scenery.

Along the road, there are a number of locations where the equipment used in construction was simply left to rot, it being cheaper to abandon it than bring it home.

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The road eventually makes its way to the mountains, and then the border with the NWT where maintenance has stopped, and the Canol Heritage Trail begins. I'd hoped to dip at least my little toe into the Trail portion by crossing at least one of the spots where the bridges have collapsed, so I kept on truckin'. Within 10km I arrived at the first crossing, which really wasn't bad at all, but a wet summer meant somewhat high water. Also, of greater concern, was a large mud-lined puddle that stole my gumboots straight off of my feet within the first few steps.

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Into the hills.

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End of the road. Start of the trail.

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The bridge won't bridge no more.

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All she wrote.

I probably spent three-quarters of an hour at that damn river: poking at the mud hole, investigating an ATV line that my tracker might fit through, poking at the mud hole again, looking at the existing tire tracks to try to guess what had made it through there recently, walking up and down to look for alternate routes, and so on. I really, really wanted it, but I eventually decided that I needed to call it a day. The possibility of finding myself stuck, alone, in the absolute middle of nowhere wasn't one that I should be testing. I pulled around and made my way back to Ross River, where, quite fittingly, I spent the night waiting one final time for the ferry to open in the morning.
 
From Ross River, I made a quick run down the Robert Campbell Highway to Watson Lake, and then onward to BC to drive Highway 37, with a detour to the ghost town of Cassiar, a morning spent trying to get to an abandoned cabin, and a drive out a pretty wild road to Telegraph Creek.DSC08393.jpg
The enormous tailings pile of the former town of Cassiar.

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I was poking around the outskirts for a moment, but a quick conversation with a very large bear had me moving on.

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I woke up next to this lake, and saw an abandoned cabin across the way. There was a river in the way, and the bridge had collapsed. I found this raft, but it wasn't quite seaworthy.

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Eventually, I walked across the river. It ended up about knee-high.

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Success!

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This might be the best spot I've slept so far.

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A cool rig the next spot over. I played tag with these folks for the next couple days.

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BC Highway 51 to Telegraph Creek.

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Overlooking Telegraph Creek.
 
I continued south, with a couple days' detour to Stewart, BC (where I saw a some folks nearly taken out from above by a careless tourist's crashed drone), Hyder, AK, and the spectacular Salmon Glacier.

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Highway 37.

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The Salmon Glacier. I sat on a rock and just stared at this thing for likely over an hour.

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The lineup.

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It's always interesting watching people interact with the wild super-camper type rigs.

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Did a great, short, and brutal hike in Stewart. It was nice to get back in the woods on foot.


From there, it was a failed attempt at checking out the modern ghost town Kitsault, and then a long bomb over to Prince George, where I sit now. From here, I'll head down the Fraser River, where I'll hopefully get a bunch more dirt miles under the tires, and then I have a wedding to attend in the Okanagan, and rent to pay back home.

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This was a yellow highway on Google Maps.
 

Explorer 1

Explorer 1
Found a picture of that disabled Ford pick up you saw with the bushes growing over it.........seems it's been there a few years.

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The "jungle" quickly takes back it's own.

Thanks for sharing,
Fred
Explorer 1
 

Dan Grec

Expedition Leader
Nice Trip,

A quick question, when you made it into Smith River Airfield, how close to the lake up there did you get ? (Sorry, forget name right now)
and do you know how close to the Yukon border you made it?

I have not explored in there, though it's on my list, eventually.

Thanks!
-Dan
 
Found a picture of that disabled Ford pick up you saw with the bushes growing over it.........seems it's been there a few years.


The "jungle" quickly takes back it's own.

Thanks for sharing,
Fred
Explorer 1

That's awesome! Nature doesn't waste much time, no.

looks like a great trip, thanks for sharing your photos.

Thanks for having a look.

Great read so far , looking forward to the next updates.

Thanks. I managed to get caught up in life once I returned home, and neglected to finish this off. I'll try to cap it all off once I have access to my photos and whatnot.

Nice Trip,

A quick question, when you made it into Smith River Airfield, how close to the lake up there did you get ? (Sorry, forget name right now)
and do you know how close to the Yukon border you made it?

I have not explored in there, though it's on my list, eventually.

Thanks!
-Dan

Thanks.

I didn't venture much beyond the airfield, as I was unfortunately still hoping to make a bunch of miles along the highway that day. The roads were mostly all in great shape, though.

Before I set off, I'd thought about running up to the border and seeing how far it all went, but I ended up leaving a week late due to driveline issues, and that was the first opportunity I had to cut an excursion short to win back some time. Hopefully, I'll be back in that region sooner than later.

Nice. I camped right at the end of that "road" in front of your hood, and in the morning I walked across the river then hiked to the top of the mountain that was directly in front of your hood.

Beautiful, beautiful scenery :)

-Dan

That sounds fantastic. I was underprepared - partially intentionally - to do much extended hiking with as much rain as I encountered up there, so I wasn't able to get very far away from the road itself.

I'll just use that as more incentive to make it back up there, as if I needed any more incentive to revisit somewhere so spectacular.
 

Dan Grec

Expedition Leader
That sounds fantastic. I was underprepared - partially intentionally - to do much extended hiking with as much rain as I encountered up there, so I wasn't able to get very far away from the road itself.

I'll just use that as more incentive to make it back up there, as if I needed any more incentive to revisit somewhere so spectacular.

Awesome, thanks for the info!

As Yukoners say, if I don't do stuff while it's cold and/or raining, you'll never do anything!

-Dan
 

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