Adventures with Yogi and Boone

Augus 9th - 16th

From Rain showers to Bears: Our Journey South Begins

                                         Chilkoot Pass

The road has carried us through a string of places that each felt like their own little world - Haines Juntion, Whitehorse, Carcross, Skagway, and now Haines.

Haines Junction was small and unassuming, the kind of place where you find beauty in its simplicity. We camped among tall trees, rode our bikes into town, and rewarded ourselves with lunch and a couple of cold beers at the local brewery. Yep, another Brewery. The skies turned gray on the ride home, but instead of dampening our spirits, the rain seemed to soak us into the landscape. Warm, steady, for miles back to camp with Boone a little less enthusiastic about the rain!

From there, the familiar comfort of Whitehorse greeted us. Back at the Caribou RV Park, we sank into the little luxuries of the road - hot showers, clean laundry, and a hearty dinner. It was wonderful, though we couldn't help but feel the absence of our friends Krysi, Ryan and Sawyer, who had shared the same space with us a month earlier. Funny how people can leave such an imprint that their absence feels almost physical.  

CARIBOU RV FOOD TRUCK

The drive into Skagway was breathtaking. We wound through Carcross, Canada, home of the worlds smallest desert, (not really a desert but sure looks like one) before cresting the mountains and descending back into Alaska once more. Skagway wears its history on its sleeve - the Klondike Trail began here, a path carved by dreamers and fortune-seekers heading north. We camped near that very trail, by a river brimming with salmon. They were thick in the shallows, bodies battered from the long run upstream, prehistoric in their persistence. Watching them was mesmerizing. We half expected bears to appear, but the banks stayed empty.

                                              Salmon at the end of a very long journey 

Instead, we filled the day with a bike ride through rainforest trails, where moss draped from branches, covered the forest floor and the air was rich and damp. Later, I found my self at the Skagway Fish Company with a basket of halibut fish and chips that deserves its own place in the travel log - crispy, golden, unforgettable. 

The next morning brought the ferry, and with it a crossing to Haines. That's where we reconnected with Christine, the friend we've been meeting and parting with in a rhythm that feels almost like choreography. A few days together here, a chance meeting there - It's one of those unexpected gifts of travel, the kind that lingers longer than scenery.

Haines itself was a treasure. we camped near Chilkoot Lake, where at last we could slide our boats back onto the water. The paddle was pure magic -salmon leaping, eagles circling overhead, the glassy lake reflecting it all back at us. Boone, true to form, added his own bit of drama by slipping off the end of my paddle board, distracted by the mountains. He surfaced quickly, his little life jacket bobbing, more surprised and embarrassed than shaken. We hauled him out, towel-dried him, and by the time he was back on the board, he looked as it the whole thing had been my fault.

But the Bears- oh, the bears.  At the fish weir outside of town we finally stood face-to-face with the wildness we'd been waiting for. Big Grizzlies slumbered into the shallows, plucking salmon from the current with easy grace. And then came the mama with four cubs, tumbling smashing, learning the rhythm of survival under watchful eye.  We returned more than once, unable to resist the pull of that scene.

Now, as I write this, we are back on the ferry, this time bound for Juneau. Boone is curled up in his backpack, still sulking a little over the loss of his basket, which I managed to leave behind at a bakery in Carcross. (Fortunately, Christine has offered to rescue it on her way through- our own little Lost-and-found system at work). It also means that Christine will make Reno a stop as she continues her travels.

This crossing feels different, though.It marks the start of our slow journey south, the turn toward home.

September waits for us on the horizon, but for now, we're letting the miles unfold one ferry, one mountain pass, one campfire at a time.

All our love,

Bob, Sherry and Boone