Dawson Creek to Tetsa River
So, at last, our journey on the Alaska Highway could begin. But not until we’d popped to Dawson Creek’s Walmart, to work through Debbie’s shopping list. Top of the list was a bike helmet for Debbie. You see she has a head the size of a three year old’s, and the rental helmet rattled around on her head.
Having done that, we stopped for a couple of photos at the ‘Mile 0′ marker, then a couple more at a mural of the ‘Mile 0′ marker, which is better from a traffic safety point of view.
Then we were driving the Alaska Highway. Quite early on, we took a detour at Kiskatinaw Provincial Park, to follow the original route. As with Route 66, it’s common to see stretches of ‘old road’ taking a less straight route than the current road for reasons of cost or technology. Sometimes it’s being reclaimed by nature. Sometimes you can drive on it, as we did here.
The main attraction on this stretch of old road was the Kiskatinaw Bridge. It crosses a big chasm. It’s wooden right down to the road surface. It goes round a bend. What’s not to like?
We drove North (where else?) to Fort St. John, which turned out to be really quite big. We bought petrol here. It turns out that paying at the pump is a bad idea, because the card companies set a limit, and that limit isn’t enough to fill a tank - so we left with three quarters of a tank.
I observed that there was room in my stomach for a donut. Debbie concurred, but we looked at the time and decided it wasn’t too early for lunch. After an abortive attempt at Taco Bell (the establishment had closed), we sat down at the Northwoods Inn restaurant. Northwoods Inn is a pub, restaurant and motel. The pub advertises “exotic entertainment”! But we only went to the restaurant. Debbie had a hot beef sandwich with gravy, and I had a club sandwich. Both were big and came with lots of fries. Canada is not so different from America in this area. I had the bright idea of asking for some coffee to go at the end of the meal. I’ll be doing that again.
The Northwoods Inn has wireless intep net, according to its sign.
Debbie took over the driving, and we continued North. We saw lots of trees. Millions of them. Basically, all we did all day was drive, and occasionally go “ooh” at some scenery - although this section isn’t billed as being a scenery highlight. We got our first taste of less-than-perfect road surfaces (other than the old road) - there are plenty of places where the surface, wrecked by winter use, has been patched up unevenly, or just had gravel scattered on it. It causes the RV to judder a little, at 110 km/hour.
Some hours later, at Prophet River, we were low on petrol, and saw a sign saying “Check your gas: next services 100km.” We pulled up at the petrol station, only to find it was closed. We pressed on.
80km later, the RV made some insistent pinging noises. We limped into Fort Nelson, powered by fumes, and filled up. The only comforting thing is to imagine how much the same petrol would cost in the UK.
Fort Nelson is the only town for miles, and is not a place for the eco-warrior. Its first boom was built on deforestation for manufacturing disposable chopsticks for the Far East. We passed many recovering areas, reforested in the last 10 years. Its current boom is oil-driven. Apparently property prices here are sky high - amazing considering how little there is nearby. We didn’t see a reason to hang around.
After a typically quick visit to a tourist information centre - where there never seems to be a queue, they answer your question accurately and immediately, then there doesn’t seem to be any reason to linger - we drove out of Fort Nelson.
West of Fort Nelson, things become interesting. We climbed up into the Northern Rockies, up Steamboat Mountain, and were rewarded with astonishing views. The only problem was a dearth of suitable places to stop and take it all in. We managed once.
On the other side of the mountain, we passed one potential camping destination, Tetsa River Provincial Park. We’d been advised by the Info Centre that if we carried on for 10 minutes, we’d come to a commercial camp with water, power and a laundry. It turned out they were right, and that’s where we are.
I lit a fire, and we cooked inch-thick steak over it, and ate it with bread and salad. The site is alive with insects, but the combination of DEET, mosquito coils at the picnic table and at the RV door, and fire smoke seems to have kept them at bay.
