Seward:

From Hope, the port city of Seward is a mere hop, skip and a jump away across the Kenai peninsula, nestled in Resurrection Bay. Seward greeted us with some cool mammatus clouds and a spot of sunshine. Camping was rather busy, it being Labor Day weekend, but we managed to bag ourselves a prime waterfront camping spot and settled in to stay a few days.

Bring on the barbecue! In the UK, all it takes is a sniff of nice weather to get that bbq party feeling. A few hasty phone calls to friends is followed by an impromptu trip to Tesco express for burgers, sausages and chicken kebabs. I don’t think we’ve ever lost that carpe diem mentality when it comes to getting the bbq out.

Nothing major, but we fit in a few little hikes while we were in Seward.

On the Tonsina Creek trail, we heard the seagulls making a racket long before we saw them. Wondered what on earth was going on. Turns out they were seizing the day too. Think they’d been on the jungle drums to round up all their friends for the last minute salmon party, no bbq required.

The walk to Exit Glacier, peppered with signs showing where the face of the glacier was in prior years, was the most popular hike in the area.

And then you have Mount Marathon. For the nutters out there, there’s an annual race on 4th July up the runner’s route with 3,000ft of elevation gain, known as The Toughest 5K on the Planet (yes, up and back down again in 3.1 miles).

Even the hiker’s route is a steep scramble of a slog to the top, one for another time maybe, c’mon we’re on our holidays! But we did do enough of the lower slopes to get a view back down over Resurrection Bay.

Kayaker’s Cove:

Seward also happened to be our jumping off point for a trip to Kayakers Cove. Which does what it says on the tin – it’s a secluded cove accessible only by sea, where kayakers can explore the nearby shores and stay in a little log cabin overnight. We were the last guests of the season and had the run of the place to ourselves.

Got just a few pictures of our trip to Kayaker’s Cove so you can see for yourselves…

It might seem like we’re on a permanent holiday but we’re really not. We’ve taken odd days here and there to give us some long weekends, but this is our first full week’s holiday of the year. And we were excited to be spending it in Alaska.

First up: Hope AK. We hoped it was going to be good and it was. Hope is a quintessential gold rush era small town (maybe even city), which in the UK would be considered a village or a hamlet. And like in the UK, it has a pub. The iconic Seaview Cafe and Bar, no less. We first came here in 2012 and the place hasn’t changed a bit, from the decor to the sole barman. It’s timelessness is part of its charm.

Our hike through the forest up to Hope Point shall forever be known as The Fungi Walk. I have never seen such diversity of mushrooms and toadstools in the wild before. Including the Super Mario Super Mushroom, which looked like it belonged on a pixie field trip.

After all that hiking, it was about time we hit up the Seaview Bar.

The next day: a drizzly morning, a cozy BaseCamp, and a long drive from Canada finally caught up on us. Ah, maybe last night’s beers had something to do with it too.

You could be forgiven for thinking, given our epic journey to Anchorage, that outside of work hours we’d sleep the week away. But nope, not so. Having traveled further west, we’d shifted a time zone. Made things a bit rough in the mornings, starting work at 7am instead of 8. But on the bright side, it gave us oh so much time after work to play, and light ‘til late to boot.

First thing we did was hit up 49th State Brewing. More of a tourist spot than some of our normal breweries but there’s worse ways to celebrate making it to Alaska than beer and fish and chips. Nice deck too.

Funnily enough, the co-working office aka The Boardroom, shared the office space next door to the brewery.

And another coincidence, we bumped into a fellow Brit – JP, in The Boardroom, who was doing something very similar to us. That is, living and working in California pre-Covid, and for the last year, on the road traveling and working in co-working offices. Another digital nomad!

Anchorage doesn’t have to toot its own horn – it’s got plenty of trains to do that. And we were right next door to the iconic Alaska railroad, both at The Boardroom and the campsite, Ship Creek. So trains by day, trains by night.

The noise and the vibration you get used to. But I couldn’t help be a little jealous of the excited passengers as they boarded the train for a luxury scenic ride, full of anticipation. I reminded myself that our turn would come, we’d booked next week off on holiday 😃

We eased ourself into the post-work walking with a wander along the coastal trail in the city. The perfect way to get out and about without anything too strenuous.

Next day’s walk was titled Darren’s Revenge. Or might as well have been (the recent little US border detour was still top of mind). It was a 1,500ft climb up the FlatTop trail, involving some pretty steep scrambling, and maybe just a little whinging. The way down required much use of the previously perfected five points of contact maneuver (if in doubt, use your backside).

And finally we had a blustery walk along the shoreline in Kincaid Park, apparently the ‘most likely to see moose’ place in the city.

So there we were, having done our beach walk (no moose) and heading back on the bike path through the woods. And there, right there by the path, was the biggest bull moose I’ve ever seen, with a pair of very impressive almost cartoon-like moose antlers.

There was a group of people gathering on the far side of the trail, giving the moose plenty of space, and the same on our side. While he was certainly more interested in munching than checking out the gawping snap-happy tourists all around, it didn’t seem right to encroach his personal space just so we could continue with our walk. But tramping wide through the undergrowth wasn’t a viable option either.

Instead, we stood and watched and waited. And waited. Thinking, how long do we have to wait before the moose moves along?

At which point, the gathering tourist armies on both sides silently and mutually agreed, if they could pass, so could we. No dramas, no disasters. And as Forrest Gump would say, “that’s all I have to say about that”.

And did we make it to a proper brewery? You bet we did.

Me, I’m in the dog house. “You let yourself down, you let the side down, you let the school down”. I’m Bradley Cooper on the phone at the beginning of the movie ‘The Hangover’, with a remorseful, almost tearful “I effed up”. Allow me to explain…

The normal split of responsibilities on our road trips is pretty straightforward:

Darren = forward looking, meaning all the planning – route planning, sorting out co-working spaces and booking campsites. Oh and driving.

Me = backward looking, meaning writing the blog (and a more detailed journal), sorting photos and collages, and doing the one second everyday video. In keeping with the backward looking theme, when Darren’s reversing the BaseCamp, I help (or hinder) by making sure he doesn’t hit anything.

However, when Canada came into play, the planning bit just got a whole lot more complicated, not to mention time consuming. So I got put in charge of whatever it took to get us over the border. No pressure! From researching Covid testing options to finding a testing location that met all the criteria, obtaining and uploading an abundance of documentation, to checking border crossing options and wait times, that was all me. I even phoned the border crossing we were planning to go through to check and the official patiently explained to me (as you would to a moron) that the border itself had never actually closed down. In the end, all went smoothly and I was massively proud of myself, pat on the back for me.

Job done, I then realized we would have to go through the same rigmarole again after Alaska (to drive back through Canada) and got stuck into planning that with gusto. Maybe there was an inbuilt assumption that I was also owning the border crossing to get IN to Alaska. Unfortunately (in my defense), there was no explicit discussion on this.

Along with my Covid research for Canada, I did check on the testing requirement to get into Alaska, just in case (didn’t need one). I might even have vaguely googled the Alaska border crossings, and didn’t note anything of concern. But it didn’t get the same love and attention as the Canada border crossing did, as I just assumed it was a done deal – after all, by re-entering the US, we’re going home.

Our plan was to drive northwest from Whitehorse, up the Klondike highway to Dawson City (not to be confused with Dawson Creek at the start of the Alcan), the most northerly point of our trip – level with Greenland. From there, we’d continue into Alaska via the Top of the World border crossing until we hit Anchorage. Total mileage for the weekend, approx 800.

After getting a couple of hours driving in on Friday evening, and setting off at dawn on Saturday, we rolled into Dawson City around lunchtime. Only to pass a sign that mentioned, as if in passing, that the Top of the World border crossing was closed. I assumed they meant closed to Canadians (as the US has yet to reciprocate the border opening for Canadian citizens), and casually went about my business, using up the last of my Canadian pennies on blueberries at the Farmers Market and stocking up on Canadian salt & vinegar crisps to get me through three weeks in the US.

Imagine my horror when we double checked at the Visitor Center and they told us nope, the Top of the World border crossing really was proper closed. (“You’ve let yourself down…”). Ever wish the world would swallow you up whole?

There’s seriously not a lot of roads up here. Our only ONLY option was to drive from Dawson City back to Whitehorse (a mere 330 miles) and take the Alcan into Alaska from there.

Darren’s meltdown was relatively minor considering!!! To put this in perspective on the mileage:

For my American friends, it’s like planning to drive from Santa Clarita to Denver, Colorado over the weekend. You’re a little confused on navigation and drive as far as San Francisco before realizing you’ve gone the wrong way. At that point, you have to retrace your steps to Santa Clarita. And then you still have to drive to Denver in time for work on Monday. Hitting a four hour traffic jam along the way.

For the Brits, it’s like driving from London to northern Italy via Scotland. Yes, that’s right, you read it right. It’s only when you reach Gretna Green that you realize that’s not the way to Italy, doh! And all this, towing a caravan.

Welcome to our world.

The roads this far north in Canada were quiet for sure. But you’ve got to take into account the frost heaves and pot holes that could swallow you whole, the intermittent gravel roads during construction where you have to wait up to 20 minutes for an escort car, not to mention the wildlife and scenery distractions.

I’m sure at some point, maybe in the far distant future, we’ll recite this as a “That one time, at Band Camp” fireside story. “Remember that time we went to the top of the world and back for blueberries. Best blueberries I’ve ever had in my life!” But for now, I think I’ll just keep my head down.

In the meantime,here’s some pictures from our weekend road trip: Whitehorse to Anchorage, via Dawson City. 1,410 miles.

Canada is a b-i-g country. It’s just shy of 1,500 miles to drive from Revelstoke in British Columbia to Whitehorse in the Yukon Territory. No way we wanted to do that over a weekend, so we took the Friday off to give us a bit of breathing room and braced ourselves for a lorra lorra driving.

Getting a few miles in on Thursday evening gave us a head start. We started with a stunning drive through Glacier and Yoho National Parks and made it just before dark to Banff National Park in heavy rain.

The planned side trip to Lake Louise in the morning was blown out, we figured we wouldn’t see much with the low cloud and the rain in the dark. But as it started to clear, we were reminded that the drive along the Icefields Parkway from Banff to Jasper has to be one of the most stunning routes anywhere.

Driving, driving, driving. With a few coffee and biscuit stops along the way.

My 7,000 steps a day continued to motivate me to get out and about during some breaks. This particular one started as a moose mission and ended by finding an abandoned camper trailer, and getting the hell out of there in case there was a dead body. Oh, and there was no moose.

The sky morphed from moody swirling mist patches into fluffy British clouds and blue sky. I guess it’s fitting as we were at the same longitude as the UK.

600 miles after leaving Revelstoke, we rolled into Dawson Creek on Friday evening.

Dawson Creek is otherwise known as Mile 0, because it’s the start of the AlCan, or Alaska Canada highway. Originally built in 1942 in just eight months, due to wartime emergency, I think it’s come a long way since then. Huge milestone for us as it cemented our ‘destination Alaska’, which we never thought would be an option for us this year.

Day one on the Alcan started with some banal farmland – bales of hay, fields of cows and horses. I think I expected to be immediately thrust into the wilderness. As time passed, the scenery did start to get more rugged, and we went through the tiny town of Wonowon. Took us a while to realize it was so called because it was at Mile 101.

Some awesome scenery as our drive took us past the Northern Rocky Mountains Provincial Park and through Stone Mountain and Muncho Lake Provincial Parks. The scenery kept on giving, although some bits were a tad obscured by the rain spattered windscreen. Hopefully we’ll get to see some of those on the way back.

You’ve got to keep your eyes peeled for wildlife all the time. Light on good pics but we actually did see deer, elk, bighorn sheep, moose and bear.

By late afternoon on Saturday, we rolled into Liard Hot Springs Park campsite and took the last spot. Hot stinky soak in the drizzle, don’t mind if we do!

As always, so nice to get back and cozy in the Basecamp, with a glass of red and a chickpea chorizo stew bubbling on the stove.

Sunday morning, it was barely light as we set off on the road again. We ran straight into a big herd of bison. Including some frisky little ones that got distracted playing and had to run to catch up the ever moving herd.

The next milestone was entering the Yukon. Proper northern Canada now.

And a few more scenic stops along the way:

And then perhaps the most famous milestone on the Alcan – the Sign Post Forest at Watson Lake. Very cool. It was started in 1942 by a homesick GI and has been added to ever since. It now expands over a few acres. I wonder if our backyard tin tacker display is destined for something similar.

So yes, we had our fair share of wet weather as we made our way north through Canada. But the closer we got to Whitehorse, the clearer and bluer the sky became. We rolled into Whitehorse, Yukon, to end our Alcan road trip weekend in such an awesome boondocking spot overlooking Long Lake.

We’ll be doing Whitehorse on the way back as well, so we’ll skip that for now and the next post will jump straight into the next driving leg to get us to Anchorage, ALASKA!!!