Newfoundland – Where the Vikings discovered North America in the year AD 1000!

In September of 2004, I had the opportunity to spend a week travelling around the Canadian Province of Newfoundland. My trip began with a Delta Airlines flight to Boston, from Charleston, South Carolina, where I had spent the previous week touring around that state. In Boston I connected with another Delta flight to Halifax, Nova Scotia. I spent 3 hours in the Halifax airport awaiting the arrival of the WestJet flight from Toronto, on its way to St John’s, Newfoundland. As I waited in the airport, I had a delicious “seafood sampler” at the “Maritime Ale House”, along with a local Moosehead beer in the “Legends Bar”. The bartender was anxious to tell me all about the great things to see and do in Newfoundland. Once I was finally aboard the WestJet flight, the flight attendants were very friendly and quite funny. Service was quick and efficient, which gave me the impression this was the Canadian version of Southwest Airlines. As the plane taxied to the runway, there was an announcement – “to enhance the appearance of our flight attendants, we will dim the lights”. And just before takeoff, the flight attendants came on the PA system to sing a short song – “We love you and thanks for flying with us. WestJet is faster than the bus. Marry one of us and you’ll fly for free!” It was a short one-hour flight to St John’s. (not to be confused with St John, New Brunswick!) Upon landing, rather late at night, I took a taxi and checked into the “Harbourview Hotel” downtown – the recommendation of the taxi driver. (He was very talkative and insisted that I sit in the front seat of the taxi)

Map of Newfoundland

The next morning, I walked along the historic waterfront, which was busy with lots of fishing boats and a couple of large container ships at the dock. The town of St John’s was founded in 1497 by Sir John Cabot and is the main city on the island, as well as being the Provincial Capital. Newfoundland is a large island in the Canadian Maritime Provinces and the easternmost point of land in North America. The St John’s harbor is naturally protected from the open ocean by 500-foot-high hills surrounding it. The only entrance to the harbor is by way of a very narrow 600-foot-wide passage. The harbor was a very strategic location during several wars between the British and French for control of eastern Canada.

St John’s Harbour

Not far from the waterfront in downtown St John’s I found the Newfoundland Railroad Museum, housed in the old railway station. Inside the old station were many historical exhibits, including a wonderful “Diorama” of the “Overland Limited” train that transported passengers and freight across the island, from St John’s to Port-au-Basques, where it connected with a ferry to Nova Scotia. The railroad operated from 1898 until 1988. It was the longest narrow-gauge railroad in North America, spanning 548 miles across the island. It also had an additional 358 miles of branch lines that touched almost every coastal community.

Newfoundland Railroad Museum

Operations of the railroad were taken over by Canadian National Railways in 1949, under the ”Terms of Union” between Newfoundland and Canada. Today, little remains of the old railway line, which was made obsolete by the construction of the Trans-Canada Highway in 1952. The highway, known as Hwy 1, travels from St John’s, Newfoundland all the way across Canada to Victoria, British  Columbia, a total distance of 4860 miles (7821 kms).

After touring through the museum, I hiked to the top of Signal Hill, overlooking the narrow entrance to St John’s harbor. On the 500-foot-high summit is the “Cabot Tower”, built in 1897 in honor of Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee and the 400th anniversary of Sir John Cabot’s “Voyage of Discovery”. Since 1704, Signal Hill had been used for signaling the approach of ships, first by flags and cannon blasts, and later by radio. In December of 1901, a very historic event of world importance took place on Signal Hill – Italian inventor, Guglielmo Marconi, received the first trans-Atlantic wireless signal! Our present-day dependence on wireless communication owes Marconi a deep debt! Also located on top of Signal Hill are old coastal defense batteries from WWI and WWII. While nothing remains of the military structures today, the heavily fortified concrete bunkers and gun emplacements are still in place, and now provide excellent views of the North Atlantic and St John’s harbor.

View of St John’s from top of Signal Hill
St John’s Lighthouse at entrance to the harbour

While I was visiting the Parks Canada Visitor Center in Cabot’s Tower, I learned that Newfoundland and Labrador remained British colonies until 1949, when they agreed to join the Canadian Confederation. At that point, the “Province of Newfoundland and Labrador” was formed and became an official part of Canada!

From Signal Hill, I drove to Cape Spear, the easternmost point of land in North America, and home to the oldest lighthouse in Newfoundland. It was built in 1836, overlooking the narrow entrance to St John’s harbor, and has been in continuous use for more than 150 years! The views of the North Atlantic and the rugged coastline from the lighthouse were impressive.

Cape Spear and North Atlantic coast
Cape Spear Lighthouse

Just as on the summit of Signal Hill on the northern side of the harbor entrance, there were several coastal defense batteries built to defend the harbor during WWI and WWII. After hiking to the most easterly point, I headed back to St John’s in search of a place for dinner that evening. As I walked around the old downtown, I noticed a very interesting bar named “Rumplestiltskins” in an old red brick building that could have been a warehouse in the past. As I sat down at the long bar, the bartender recommended a cold pint of “1892 Traditional Ale” from the local Quidi Vida Brewery – it was a very traditional English ale and quite tasty. (The brewery is the largest craft brewery in Newfoundland and named for the local native tribe)

Early 1800’s houses in St John’s
East End Club – downtown St John’s

Then I walked next door to the “Hungry Fisherman Restaurant” for dinner. It began with a superb appetizer of halibut and crab creamed casserole, topped with seasoned breadcrumbs. For the main dish, I chose the pan-fried cod, served in a delicate caper cream sauce – excellent! For dessert, the chef recommended his delicious, warm blueberry-partridgeberry crumble, topped with heavy cream! The only downside to dinner was the lack of any Canadian wines by the glass. So, I had a glass of Californian Mondavi chardonnay, which went perfectly with the seafood. In addition to the excellent food, the service was very efficient and friendly. As I walked back to the hotel in the light rain, I noticed the town was very quiet. Most of the bars were closed by 9pm.

I woke up early the next morning to find heavy rain and strong winds raking the harbor outside my window. I checked out of the hotel and packed my gear into the rental car, a Jeep Liberty. As I left St John’s, I picked up some coffee at the “Maritime Coffee House”, before joining the Trans-Canada Highway (Hwy 1) headed west toward Gander. Light rain and drizzle followed me most of the way to Clarenville, through heavily forested hills, rocky meadows, and marshes. I passed scores of small lakes, known locally as “ponds” and several streams, known as “brooks”. The entire landscape was raw and beautiful, very much like I remembered of the Yukon Territory, thousands of miles away in the northwestern corner of Canada. Along the highway were lots of “Moose Crossing” signs, but no sign of Moose – perhaps because it was too close to the opening of the Moose hunting season. As I approached Bonavista Bay, I saw the entrance sign for “Terra Nova National Park”, so I followed the road into the park, where I found a lovely region of rugged coastline. It was on this northeastern shore of Newfoundland that Sir John Cabot first landed in 1497. There were countless hiking trails in the park, and I chose a long 8km (5 mile) trail to Buckley Cove. And luckily, as I began my hike through the thick forest and along the rocky shoreline, the rain had ended – but everything was still very wet! The forest floor beneath the tall Spruce trees was covered with thick, deep green moss, gray lichens, red cranberries, and ripe blueberries. It wasn’t long before I found a patch of luscious blueberries, ripe for the picking! I was pretty much alone on the trail, seeing only one other person. At one point, as I rounded a bend in the trail, I was “accosted” by a lone red pine squirrel who approached me within a couple of feet and “scolded” me for being in his domain. The hike was a lovely way to explore the national park, whose French name means “New Land”.

Terra Nova National Park
Forest floor – Terra Nova National Park

Leaving behind the national park, I drove northwest to the small fishing villages of Eastport and Sandy Cove. Here I saw some local kids swimming in wetsuits – it was a cold, blustery day on the beach! When I finally reached the historic town of Gander, the heavy rain had returned – so, I found a small hotel, “The Albatross”, and checked in for the night. As I checked in, the elderly lady at the front desk gave me the key to room 215. But when I got to the room, the key wouldn’t work, so I went back down to the front desk. After I explained the problem, she gave me another key to the room. This time the key worked, but as soon as I opened the door, I saw a pair of feet on the end of the bed!! I quickly closed the door and went back downstairs. This time, she checked her computer, which listed the room as “vacant”. So, she called the room to verify it was indeed vacant. But when a man answered the phone, she had to apologize, blaming the computer. At that point, she searched the computer for another “vacant” room and phoned it, just to be sure. At last, I had a room for the night – all to myself! There wasn’t much to the old town, just a few shops on Main Street, and a small shopping mall. But the town is world famous for its large international airport, which used to be a very important refueling stop for all the airlines flying to and from Europe, before the age of modern jets. The airport also has a special place in my life. When my mother and I flew from England to join my father in Illinois at the end of WWII, our plane landed in Gander to refuel before continuing to New York. I was barely more than a year old at the time, so I have no memory of the journey, just the story from my mother. As evening approached, I began looking for a place to have dinner. Gander is a very small town and I found there weren’t a lot of choices. But the hotel manager recommended “Jungle Jim’s”, about which I was more than a bit skeptical, given the name. But to my pleasant surprise, it turned out to be a great place and popular with the locals. The starter of steamed local mussels in white wine was fantastic – very succulent and flavorful! Then the waitress highly recommended the fresh North Atlantic scallops wrapped in bacon – an excellent dish! That evening I enjoyed a delicious dinner, along with a cold pint of Moosehead beer from Nova Scotia. After dinner, I checked out the bar in the old Albatross Hotel. There wasn’t much happening in the bar, except for a few people sitting in front of a long row of slot machines, silently and steadily pouring their money into the “one armed bandits”. After another Moosehead beer, I headed back to my hotel room to watch a bit of TV before bedtime. The program was on the Canadian version of the Discovery channel about how familiar, everyday things are made – “Chicken Nuggets”, egg crates, shovels and rakes. (fascinating stuff)

The next morning, I was up early and found the weather had improved considerably, with blue skies in abundance. I drove north from Gander to the picturesque old fishing village of Twillingate. The little town is also known as the “Iceberg Capital of the World”, as huge icebergs from the Greenland ice sheet break off during the springtime and drift south into the North Atlantic. Many of these monster icebergs pass within a few hundred yards off the coast of Newfoundland.

Iceberg Capital of the World
Village of Twillingate

But being late summer, there were no icebergs to be seen floating by the village. I decided to stop for lunch at a local café overlooking the harbor – sea nuggets, coleslaw, and French fries which were served in the traditional Canadian way – covered with brown gravy that only makes the fries wet and soggy! After a delightful lunch by the sea, it was a long drive back to the Trans-Canada Highway to continue my journey west across Newfoundland to the town of Deer Lake. It was a hundred kms (65 miles) through thick forest and past scores of lakes, with nothing much of anything else.

Trans-Canada Highway

While I was enjoying the wild landscape, I suddenly noticed the “low fuel” light had come on, and I was still more than 50 kms (30 miles) from Deer Lake, the next closest town. I had no idea how far I could stretch the remaining gas in the tank, but I had no choice except to keep driving west. About 35 kms (20 miles) from Deer Lake, I spotted a single gas station standing alone on the edge of the highway. But as I pulled in, I quickly realized the place had been abandoned for years – very disappointing indeed! So, it was a very long 35 kms to Deer Lake, but I managed to “nurse” the gas tank to the first service station in Deer Lake. I proceeded to put 58 liters (16 gallons) of gas into the jeep! I didn’t know the capacity of the gas tank, but I was sure it couldn’t have held much more than that!

Now, with a full tank, I drove north to the village of Norris Point on the coast of the “Northern Peninsula”. It was a beautiful drive along the rocky coast under partly cloudy skies. Just before evening fell, I spotted a sign for the “Sugar Hill Inn”, a lovely B&B in Norris point that overlooked the bay. That’s when I decided to stop and spend the night.

Village of Norris Point
Sugar Hill Inn – Norris Point
My room at Sugar Hill Inn

As I entered the parlor to check in, I noticed many of the guests, mostly elderly retirees, sitting quietly, playing cards and scrabble. That evening, we all sat down at a large table to share a delicious dinner that began with a luscious homemade tomato and leek soup. Then came a fantastic fresh Atlantic Halibut baked in a caper cream sauce and served with grilled fresh vegetables from the garden. When the dessert course arrived, we were in for an amazing treat, homemade crumble with local wild blueberries, partridgeberries (similar to cranberries), and cloudberries – all of which were picked that morning! Dinner was truly a gourmet experience, something which I had not expected to find in such a remote region. The evening concluded with more card games and scrabble in the parlor. (there was no TV reception)

The next morning, after a very quiet night, I joined the other guests for breakfast in the dining room – cheddar cheese omelet with delicious maple sugar cured bacon and freshly baked whole wheat toast with local partridgeberry jam, also known as Lingonberry. It was a perfect way to start the day of sightseeing in Gros Morne National Park, just a few kms north. After a night of heavy rain and strong winds, the day began with clearing skies, to my delight. I drove north through the old village of Rocky Harbour to visit the historic lighthouse at Lobster Head.

Rocky Harbour
Lobster Head Lighthouse

From the old lighthouse, I had a beautiful view of the quaint fishing village below and the “Tablelands” shining in the brilliant sunshine across “Bonne Bay”. I took several photos of the old lighthouse and rocky coastline, as the thundering surf pounded the rocky cliffs. Further north, I stopped at “Broom Point” to view the rusted remains of the “SS Elfie”, a coastal steamer that ran aground in December of 1919 during the “storm of the century”. With the massive waves and the ferocious winds battering the shore today, it was easy to imagine how the ship could have floundered in the storm. Not far away, at Green Point, I hiked part of the “old Mail Road” – it used to be the only route up the west coast of the island during the winter. The mail was hauled by dogsled from 1892 up until 1954! Back on the highway, I continued north to “Shallow Cove”.

Shallow Cove

There I discovered an old cemetery on the leeward side of the sand dunes. It was surrounded by a freshly painted white picket fence, and every grave was well tended and decorated with fresh flowers. Later, as I continued north along the rocky coast, I came to “The Arches Provincial Park”, a unique natural rock formation from tens of thousands of years ago.

The Arches Provincial Park

And in the distance, the heavy clouds began to lift from the top of the “Long Range Mountains”. Finally, I could see the enormous, deeply cut U-shaped fjords, rising straight up for 2,000 feet above the water! They had become “landlocked” millions of years ago as the land had slowly risen – they were nothing less than a spectacular sight!

Meanwhile, the wind continued to be a gale from the northwest, but at least the skies were clearing, revealing a beautiful, stark sub-arctic landscape. The colors of the land were typical of fall on the tundra, and spectacular under the bright sunshine! As I took several photos of the Arches, the heavy surf continued to pound the rocky coast. Further north, I came to the entrance to Gros Morne National Park, one of the most beautiful areas in all of Atlantic Canada.

Welcome to Gros Morne National Park

Once inside the national park, I headed for the trailhead leading to “Western Brook Pond” where there were incredible views of the deepest fjord in Newfoundland. The trail was in great condition, with boardwalks in several places that crossed lots of bogs and marshes (areas of soft shale), as well as low ridges of Balsam Fir and White Spruce (areas of hard limestone). It was a lovely hike to the Visitor Center, located on the shore of Western Brook Pond, but I missed the boat tour by 20 minutes. Of course, since I had no idea of the boat’s schedule, I’m not sure if I could say “I missed it”. From the Visitor Center, where there was a 3-D model of the park, I hiked along the trail to Stag Brook.

3D model of Gros Morne National park

The trail started out muddy, but it got better as it began to follow the shore of the huge lake (pond). I noticed a lot of fresh Moose tracks in the soft sand, and then “muddy” Moose tracks later on the boardwalk. By this time, I was wondering if I would suddenly encounter a Moose around the next bend. And if so, which of us would yield the right-of-way on the narrow boardwalk first?

When I finally arrived at the end of the trail, I gazed upon the sheer 2,000-foot-high rock walls rising straight up from the lake – the view of the deep fjord was spectacular!

Western Brook Pond at the end of Stag Brook trail
Gros Morne National Park
View of the deep fjord from Western Book Pond

The view was the epitome of my vision of Gros Morne from the guidebook. At that moment, I only wished I had the time to climb to the top – next time! On the way back to the Visitor Center, I followed the Moose tracks along the narrow sandy beach until they suddenly disappeared into the lake. And all the while, I kept looking back to marvel at the majestic fjord, part of the “Long Range Mountains”. Gros Morne National Park is like no other I’ve ever visited, and it deserves another visit for sure!

Illustration from Gros Morne National Park brochure

On the northern tip of the Gros Morne Peninsula is the “L’Anse-aux-Meadows National Historic Site”, where Vikings landed in AD 1000, becoming the first Europeans to discover North America – almost 500 years before Columbus!

Once I had returned to my Jeep, I drove back south, beyond Rocky Harbour, over a steep pass on the southern slope of the “Long Range Mountains” to the junction with the road to Trout River on Bonne Bay. Then it was into the southern portion of the national park, a very unique geological feature called “The Tablelands”, an ancient area where some of the world’s oldest rocks were exposed 400 million years ago when the African Plate plunged under the North American Plate! Exploring the area was a geologist’s dream. The region looked like a gigantic flat-topped mountain (table) covered in huge boulders and very little vegetation. Several large streams and waterfalls tumbled down from the steep 2,000-foot slopes of the mountain.

Tablelands – Gros Morne National Park

As I returned to Woody Point, there were beautiful views of Bonne Bay, with sheer cliffs plunging into the deep, clear water of the ancient fjord. The view of Woody Point, a quaint fishing village of bright white-washed houses perched on the only large flat piece of land on the bay, was lovely in the late afternoon sunshine. From Woody Point, I drove back to Norris Point, which I could see on the far shore of the bay. Although it was just a few miles across the bay, as the crow flies, it was over 50 miles by road! (it reminded me of the same phenomenon of the Turnagain Arm in southcentral Alaska) Back at the Sugar Hill Inn, I showered, before joining everyone for another fabulous dinner. As we sat round the table, we were served a fantastic bowl of rich seafood chowder and homemade biscuits, followed by fresh, local Atlantic Cod, steamed with olives, tomatoes, and topped with fresh chives from the garden. It was a dish that could have been served in any 5-star restaurant in New York or Boston! Then, a large dish of vanilla ice cream topped with wild cloudberry sauce was served for dessert, which finished our incredible dining experience for a memorable evening! After dinner, everyone gathered again in the parlor to play cards or a game of scrabble – definitely a quiet and relaxed evening. As I made my way to my room, the wind began to howl like a “banshee” outside my window, a clear sign of changing weather.

The next morning, I arose early and again joined everyone for another delicious breakfast. After which, I drove down the hill to the tiny village of Norris Point to take several photos of the charming old white-washed houses that lined the rocky shore of Bonne Bay.

Bonne Bay

The morning sunshine across the bay, brilliantly illuminated the barren flat top of “The Tablelands” far to the south. I could have easily stayed longer, but it was time to begin my return to St John’s for the flight back home. So, I gassed up the Jeep at the local Esso service station and headed east to the junction with the Trans-Canada Highway at Deer Lake, that would take me over 680 kms (420 miles) to St John’s. Along the way, I encountered a few lingering showers before stopping in Grand Falls. (I never found the “falls” though) Further east, I decided to visit Terra Nova National Park again, where I was able to take some beautiful photos under partly sunny skies. But as I was leaving the national park, rain showers caught up with me, or did I catch up with them? Several miles east of the park, I spotted a sign for “Joey’s Lookout”, where I had a gorgeous view of the old lumber town of Gambo on the shore of Gambo Brook. Up until the 1950’s, logs were floated down Gambo Brook to several sawmills in the town. Later, from the Blue Hill Lookout, there was an incredible view of the entire northeastern coast of Newfoundland, dissected by many fjords. Dozens of small islands shimmered in the sea like a long, chaotic string of diamonds!

Near Grand Falls and Gambo Brook

As I got closer to St John’s, there was a long line of traffic heading west from St John’s for the long Labour Day weekend. Luckily, I was headed in the opposite direction. I began encountering strong winds as the storm system made its way east over the ocean. But at least the skies were clearing. Being that I had an early morning flight to Halifax, I decided to check into the Airport Plaza Hotel, just 5 minutes from the airport. From the outside it looked like an ordinary Motel 6, but inside the lobby, it was decorated with lovely Italian marble, old suits of armor, and antiques one would expect to find in an old European hotel. The restaurant and bar were very quaint and cozy – a very pleasant surprise. My room was clean and comfortable, but by no means “luxurious”. The balcony overlooked the airport and a large parking lot of buses for the DRL Coach Lines. With still a couple of hours of daylight left, I drove up to Signal Hill again and got some beautiful photos of Cabot’s Tower, St John’s Harbour, and Cape Spear in the distance, all in the golden light of early evening. (but the wind was fierce!)

Cabot’s Tower on top of Signal Hill

When I returned to the hotel for dinner in “P.J. Billington’s”, the “Fisherman’s Seafood Platter” was both huge and delicious – fresh grilled Atlantic Salmon, baked Cod, shrimp, and scallops! In the booth behind me was a local family, and their conversation was typical of a strong Scottish brogue, which might well be the origin of the easily recognizable “Newfie” accent! After dinner, I retired to my room to watch a Canadian TV program called “Look-a-Like”. The object of the show was to transform a young man to look like the famous actor, Colin Ferrell. When they finished with him, he was virtually “identical” to Colin Ferrell! And more importantly, he acted just like Colin Ferrell – amazing!

Early the next morning, as I looked out the window, I saw one of the most amazing sunrises I had ever seen. The brilliant deep yellow, orange, and red colors of the clouds were incredible! Though it didn’t last for very long, it was a fitting sight for my departure from St John’s. After checking in for my flight to Halifax and on to Boston, I went to the local coffee stand. The lady running the small shop proceeded to tell me about a young girl who had left her purse on the city bus just after she had withdrawn several hundred dollars to buy new clothes. Luckily, the bus driver was able to find her at the airport before she boarded her flight. Then, she went on to tell me how she had found a bank bag in her mailbox at the Post Office recently, and when she opened it, she found $11,000 in cash! But when she returned the bag to the bank, all they gave her as a reward was a small basket of old fruit. She said, “that will never happen again!” Finally, I had finished my cup of coffee and boarded the plane. As we flew west over the island headed for an intermediate stop at Deer Lake, there were nice views of the north coast – hundreds of miles of rocky coastline, thousands of small islands and bays, and countless number of lakes and streams. Quite a few people boarded the flight at Deer Lake for the next leg to Halifax. As the plane headed south, the skies became overcast and dark. The CanJet flight was very efficient and friendly, but definitely a “low cost” airline, where nothing was served complimentary, not even coffee or tea.

After arriving in Halifax under very heavy clouds, I had time to get breakfast at the Maritime Ale House, as I waited to check in for the flight to Boston. I also had time to shop in the National Geographic store in the terminal with my remaining Canadian money before checking in at the Delta Airlines counter. After passing through security, where every one of my electrical devices was pulled from my bag, inspected, and “dusted” for any sign of explosives, I paid a visit to the “Legends Lounge” for a cold glass of Molson Canadian beer, as I watched the two TV’s in the bar. One was tuned to the Weather channel and the other to CTV, the Canadian version of CNN. The CTV channel kept losing the sound and picture for a few seconds every couple of minutes, while the Weather channel remained perfectly fine. It was very distracting, and when I asked the bartender what the problem was, she said, “it must be the stormy weather affecting the satellite” – really? So, when I commented on the fact that only one of the TVs was being affected, she said, “there must be two satellites” – right! (she was very pleasant, but not well informed technically)

On the way to the gate, I discovered the Air Canada “Maple Leaf Lounge” and decided to see if Priority Pass card allowed me to enter the lounge, which it did. So, I spent a very comfortable half hour before boarding of the Boston flight was announced. Just before boarding the plane, I bought a small bottle of Maple wine from Nova Scotia. It was a nice flight to Boston, although our flight attendant Chuck, apologized for the lack of beer on board. So, I opted for a glass of cranapple juice to go with my bag of pretzels. An hour later, we landed in Boston under partly cloudy skies, with temperatures in the mid-80’s – quite in contrast to the rain and 50’s in the Maritimes! I decided to make it easy and stay overnight at the Logan Airport Hilton Hotel, literally in the “middle” of the airport. Early that evening, I went down to “Connally’s Pub” for a cold pint of local “Harpoon IPA”. As I was sitting at the bar, writing in my journal, I was suddenly surrounded by people arriving for a big wedding reception to be held in the ballroom upstairs. Their conversations were very strong “Bostonian” accents, and they were obviously having a lot of fun getting “prepared” for the reception. (I think they were also wondering what I was writing about) By now it was time for dinner, so I headed next door to “Berkshire’s Restaurant” for a fantastic plate of crab stuffed fresh Maine lobster – succulent and delicious, it was “to die for”! A glass of Kendall Jackson chardonnay was the perfect accompaniment to dinner. It was then I realized that more than 9 out of 10 meals I had eaten on this trip were seafood of some kind, all of which were great! The realization felt a bit strange, having grown up on a mid-western farm hundreds of miles from the sea!

The next morning, I checked out of the hotel and boarded the hotel shuttle bus to the Delta Airlines terminal. The bus driver was a typical Bostonian, and very talkative. He asked everyone which airline they were taking, and made a point to assure one man that he would most definitely stop at the American Airlines terminal – then he “cruised” right by it, only to be “harangued” by another man from the back of the bus! Eventually I got to the Delta terminal and checked in for the flight to Atlanta and on to Ontario. As I sat in the Delta Airlines Crown Room, I reflected upon the amazing journey I had made to Newfoundland, and how my image of the map of Canada would be changed forever. Travelling to Newfoundland enabled me to see a part of the country I never really knew. Even reading about it before the trip didn’t prepare me for the raw beauty of the island, its fascinating history, wonderful people and unique culture.

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Dawson City, Yukon Territory – Heart of the 1898 Klondike Gold Rush

At the end of August in 2001, I boarded a flight to Salt Lake City and on to Anchorage, Alaska. Upon arriving in Anchorage, I picked up a rental car, and I was pleasantly surprised when Hertz handed me the keys to a new Mercury Mountaineer SUV. That night I checked into a beautiful corner suite in the Captain Cook Hotel downtown, my favorite place to stay in Anchorage.

Anchorage – View from Captain Cook Hotel
Anchorage – View of the Alaska Range across Cook Inlet

The next morning, as skies were clearing, I enjoyed a huge seafood omelet at the Downtown Deli. (shrimp, crab, halibut, salmon) After breakfast, I headed north out of town on the Alaska Highway toward Glennallen. A few hours later, as I approached the town, there was fresh snow on the mountains and gorgeous, brilliant fall colors everywhere – yellow, red, and gold! On the edge of town, there was an historical monument honoring Colonel Allen, who first surveyed an overland route from the Copper River to the Yukon River, and eventually all the way down the river to the Bering Sea, a distance of over 2000 miles! North of Glennallen, I spotted several moose on the edge of a lake near Tok Junction. When I got to the small town, I stopped at “Fast Eddie’s” for a great halibut burger, and then fueled up at the old Tok Lodge for the 250 mile drive to the Yukon border. At Tetlin Junction, I turned off the Alaska Highway and on to the Taylor Highway for the journey to Dawson City.

Anchorage to Dawson City

A couple of hours later I came to the tiny isolated village of Chicken, Alaska, and I couldn’t pass up the chance to take a photo of beautiful, downtown Chicken – all three buildings! (Chicken Mercantile, Chicken Saloon, Chicken Café) Just as I was about to leave town, I spotted two chickens in a cage in front of the café. But the name of the village actually originates from the fact that the word “chicken” is the common name for the Alaskan Ptarmigan!

Chicken – Downtown
Chicken Post Office

It wasn’t long before I came to the Yukon border and Canadian Customs Post. Shortly after passing through customs, I began the 100 mile drive on the “Top of the World Highway” that followed the summit of the Ogilvie Mountains, through great expanses of brilliantly colored alpine tundra for as far as the eye could see.

Yukon Territory Border
Yukon – Top of the World Highway Map

Just west of Dawson City, the highway descended steeply down to the mighty Yukon River. Here I crossed the river on a small ferry operated by the Yukon Territorial Government. By now the weather had changed considerably and a light rain had begun to fall. As I drove into the old gold rush town, I started noticing a lot of “No Vacancy” signs at all the hotels and motels – not a good sign! (especially since the next nearest town to Dawson City was Pelly Crossing, almost 200 miles south!) I stopped at several of the hotels and motels, and the story was always the same – the whole town was fully booked, being the last long weekend of the season, and the finals of the Territorial Softball Tournament! And to make matters worse, no one could recommend anywhere else to stay.

Dawson City – Downtown

Suddenly I spotted a sign in the window of the Westminster Hotel Bar – “Rooms Available”! But as I walked into the lounge, it was most definitely a very seedy place. So I checked a couple other places in town, in vain, before reluctantly heading back to the Westminster Hotel, resigning myself to being given the last dirty room directly above the noisy bar where a local rock band was setting up for the night. I almost felt “relieved” when I was told there were no more rooms available, contrary to the sign in the bar window! But, before preparing myself to sleep in the SUV, I took another drive south of town and spotted the “Bonanza Gold Rush Motel and RV Park”. But of course, they had no rooms, having given away their last room 15 minutes before! The woman at the front desk felt sorry for me and called two more places in a last, desperate attempt. One was a youth hostel on the far side of the Yukon River that had one bed left in a dormitory – however, by this time, the ferry had already stopped service for the night! The only other option was a “rustic” cabin 30 km south of town, with no electricity or running water! (by this time, I was pretty much out of options and facing a long, cold night in the SUV) When I didn’t “jump” at either of those final options, she went quiet for a moment, and then called “John”. When John stepped into the office, she said “do you think we should put him in the back of the trailer?” (his parents lived in the front of the trailer) I counted my blessings when John said “yes”! As it turned out, the one room was small, but it had a bed and a shower. Cases of empty wine and liquor bottles were piled high outside the trailer, but at that point, I didn’t mind) As we entered the trailer, John handed me a towel, bar of soap, a roll of toilet paper and then said, “good night”. Having finally found accommodation for the night, I headed downtown for dinner and enjoyed a fabulous plate of fresh, pan fried Arctic Char at “Klondike Kate’s”, along with a couple of “Chilkoot Lagers” from the Yukon Brewing Company in Whitehorse. After dinner, as I retired for the night in my small trailer room, the rain was falling softly on the tin roof – very peaceful!

The next morning, I woke up to find steady light rain falling outside and a heavy, cold overcast sky. After taking a shower in the tiny bathroom, I decided to drive south of town to Dempster Junction, the beginning of the Dempster Highway, a gravel road that winds its way north through the arctic tundra to the small native village of Inuvik, on the coast of the Arctic Ocean – a distance of 735km (nearly 500 miles). I decided to drive about 30 km up the road, just to say I had driven the Dempster. By the time I returned to the Klondike Highway junction, the SUV was covered in a thick layer of yellow mud, that would become something of a “badge of honor” when I got back to Dawson City. By this time, the rain had turned the unpaved streets of town into muddy trails. Wooden boardwalks gave pedestrians a chance to avoid slogging their way through the mud, except when having to cross the street. As I walked around downtown Dawson City, in the mud and rain, I speculated that it must have been much the same for the thousands of gold seekers during the Klondike Gold Rush of 1898.

Dawson City – Main Street
Dawson City from the past

Around noon, the judging began for the “International Outhouse Race”, followed a short time later with the start of the race. Teams of five people from Canada, USA, and Sweden competed, pulling their outhouses on wheels through the muddy streets. Rules of the race required one person from each team to “ride” in the outhouse during the race. As part of the course, the teams had to stop at designated places along the route to search for specific items to collect in their outhouse – sort of like a scavenger hunt! By the end of the race, no one was recognizable, having been totally covered in thick, gray mud – but they all had a great time!

Dawson City – Outhouse Race Judging
Dawson City – Outhouse Race Start
Dawson City – Outhouse Race down Main Street

After the award ceremony, I walked over to the Dawson City Museum, which was the old Territorial Administration Building – Dawson was the capitol of the territory until 1950, when the capitol moved to Whitehorse. The museum had many interesting displays and exhibits, with lots of fascinating history from the gold rush era. There was also a great exhibit of three small steam locomotives that once operated on the old Klondyke Mining Railroad, which ran from Dawson City up Bonanza Creek to the mining community of Grand Forks.

Dawson City Museum – Steam Locomotive

At the height of the gold rush, Grand Forks had a population of more than 10,000 – now it’s a ghost town. The same was true for Sulphur Springs, now just a name on the map today. In the afternoon, the rain tapered off, so I drove up to “Midnight Dome”, a steep mountain rising a thousand feet above town. From the summit I had a spectacular view of the confluence of the Klondyke River and the mighty Yukon River. Far below, Dawson City lay perched on the only small patch of flat land for miles around.

Dawson City – View from Midnight Dome

Meanwhile, light showers played tag with the sunshine. To the east and south of Dawson, along the banks of the Klondyke River, lay huge ribbons of mine tailings that resembled giant caterpillars – the remnants of massive gold dredging operations, which continued until the early 1960’s! During the gold rush of ’98, and for many years after, millions of dollars of gold and silver were mined every year. Even today, there are still active mines throughout the region. Later, I drove up the old road along Bonanza Creek to see the site where gold was first discovered in 1897. The massive old gold dredge #4 was still sitting in the creek bed where it had last mined gold in the late 1950’s. It has now become a National Park Historic Site.

Klondike River – Gold Dredge #4

On the way back to town, I visited the historic cabins of the famous writers Robert Service (“The Cremation of Sam Magee”) and Jack London (“The Call of the Wild”). Both cabins are now National Park Historic Sites.

Dawson City – Robert Service Cabin

Back in Dawson City, I took a long walk atop the huge dike that now protects the town from flooding in the spring. Nearby was the historic old river sternwheeler “Keno”, now in permanent dry dock on the shore of the river. She operated on the Yukon River from 1922 until 1960, carrying both passengers and freight – one of the last sternwheelers on the river.

Dawson City – “Keno” Sternwheel Riverboat

Downtown I discovered a monument to honor the memory of the 100 people from Dawson City who lost their lives in 1918, when the Canadian steamship “Princess Sophia” sank during a violent storm north of Juneau, Alaska. (no one aboard survived) Not far from the memorial, rather ironically, was the “Lowe’s Mortuary Museum”, in an old log building that served as a funeral parlor during the days of the gold rush, and well into the turn of the century. As I peered through the dusty windows, I saw a room filled with old implements and products used by morticians of the era – rather gory, gruesome and primitive! (an old empty casket sat in the back of the room, perhaps awaiting its next guest) A couple of blocks down the street was the “Downtown Hotel” and the “Jack London Grill”, where I had a superb dinner of fresh pan seared Arctic Char and fresh steamed vegetables – the Arctic Char is essentially a fresh water Salmon and a fabulous fish to eat. The cold glass of Chilkoot Lager went exceptionally well with dinner. My server insisted that I must finish dinner with a slice of fresh homemade pie, made with local bumbleberries and rhubarb, and it was exceptional! But the restaurant was out of ice cream, the main ingredient for over half of the desserts on the menu. After dinner, I walked next door to the “Sourdough Saloon” where a tour group was engaged in the ritual of doing “Sourtoe Cocktails” – some foul tasting liquor in a small glass, in which an old human toe was placed. The instructions from the bartender went like this: “you can drink it fast or you can drink it slow, but the toe must touch your lips”! (he also cautioned not to swallow it) Afterwards, everyone who was successful was awarded membership in the “club”, which certainly must be a prestigious award anywhere in the world! The Sourtoe Cocktails were very popular among the tourists – not so among the locals. Meanwhile, a song on the old jukebox caught my ear, “That wedding ring is as ugly to me as your husband is to you” – surely a top hit on the country charts. Not long after the last Sourtoe Cocktail had been downed, I walked outside, into the dark night and muddy streets of Dawson City, much like the old sourdoughs must have done a hundred years ago. And just before I headed for bed, I looked up to see a patch of clear sky, filled with the stars of the Big Dipper, shining brightly.

But the next morning, heavy low clouds, fog, and drizzle had returned to Dawson City. As I checked out of the Bonanza Gold Rush Motel, the manager couldn’t remember if she had told me a price for the first night in the back of the trailer, so she said “how about $50?”, and I said “that sounds good to me”. (especially being that it was only $35 USD) Then I filled up with gas, bought a large coffee, and headed to the ferry across the Yukon River. On the other side, I began a long, slow, steep climb up the mountainside to the “Top of the World Highway”. For the first half hour, I was driving through dense fog (aka heavy low clouds), but when I reached the summit of the mountains, 3000 feet above the river, I broke free of the fog/clouds and a beautiful vista of mountains lay before me, as far as the eye could see. The deep, narrow valleys below were filled with heavy, dark grey clouds – at that point, I was truly “above the clouds”!

Yukon – Top of the World Highway
Yukon – Top of the World Highway
Yukon – Top of the World Highway

For more than a hundred miles, the highway skipped along the high, rounded peaks of the Ogilvie Mountains, occasionally dipping into the narrow valleys filled with clouds. And all around me were the brilliant yellow, orange, and red fall colors of the alpine tundra, shining beautifully like a massive carpet across the Yukon Territory! About three hours later I came to the Alaskan Border Customs Station and a new time zone, but the landscape barely changed.

Alaska Border Post

Further west the road began a slow, steady descent into the Fortymile River Basin, a land of extensive mining activity. In the late 1800’s and early 1900’s, there were many small American mining towns that were actually located in the Yukon but lived by US laws. It remained the case until the 1920’s, which helps explain the close relationship between Alaska and the Yukon today. The highway rapidly deteriorated into a rough gravel road, with lots of hairpin turns as it meandered in and out of numerous deep valleys. The miles continued to pass by as I gazed upon the gorgeous autumn colors that unfolded before me, around every turn in the road.

FortyMile River Basin
Autumn Colors in Alaska

Eventually I came to the metropolis of Chicken and then the junction with the road to Eagle, before coming to Tetlin Junction and the vast expanse of the Tanana River Basin. A few hours later I reached Tok Junction, a place where everyone driving into or out of Alaska “must” pass on their way, either east, west, north, or south! As I fueled up and grabbed a sandwich at the historic old Tok Lodge, the sun was finally breaking through the clouds in full force, brilliantly highlighting the lovely fall colors of the forest and tundra. On the way to Glennallen, I rarely passed another vehicle for over three hours – it almost felt as if I had the highway entirely to myself! West of Glennallen, on the highway to Anchorage, there were many incredible views of the rugged Chugach Range, the peaks covered in a coat of fresh snow. The massive Tazlina and Nelchina Glaciers were shining brilliantly under the sunshine.

Chugach Range
Chugach Range
Tazlina and Nelchina Glaciers
Matanuska Valley – Eureka Summit

There was a noticeable absence of Moose and Caribou in sight, it being the start of the hunting season! As evening fell upon the Matanuska Valley, I arrived in Anchorage and checked into a nice room at the “Millennium Hotel”, located on the shore of Lake Hood, the world’s busiest float plane base. That evening I sat in the “Fancy Moose Bar”, overlooking Lake Hood, with a cold pint of Alaskan Amber, and watched the float planes taking off and landing.

Anchorage – Lake Hood

Later, as the sun was setting across the lake, I enjoyed a fabulous dinner of char-grilled fresh Halibut, topped with Mango chutney. And to finish off dinner, I had a huge piece of “Mary’s Bread Pudding”, filled with generous portions of dried wild cherries and pecans, and topped with Yukon Jack hard sauce! As I relaxed in the bar after dinner, I reflected upon the amazing experience of Dawson City and the Yukon Territory – historical, colorful, and definitely unique! A place I know I will return to someday, hopefully when there’s a vacancy!

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California to Alaska by Land, Sea, and Air (part 3 of 3)

After having left Skagway and crossed the White Pass summit, I came to the Canadian Customs post, where the agent was particularly curious about why I was “driving” to Anchorage, more than 850 miles away, and not taking a much faster route by plane. So I just said simply that I wanted to see the beauty of the Yukon on the ground. That resonated with her and as she handed back my passport, she wished me a pleasant journey and said that I should be on the lookout for Mountain Goats on the steep cliffs as I approached Tutshi Lake, some 20 miles down the road. The drive through the orange and red tundra alongside Lake Bennett was gorgeous under clear sunny skies. The brilliant yellow and orange fall colors of Aspen, mixed with the deep green Spruce forest amid the steel grey rocks and alpine lakes, was simply an amazing display of nature.

Lake Bennett – White Pass summit
Lake Bennett

Later, just like the Customs agent had said, as I looked up at the steep rocky cliffs along the shore of Tutshi Lake, I spotted a white “speck” that appeared to move. And sure enough, my binoculars confirmed that indeed it was a Mountain Goat, so I took out my telephoto lens and snapped several photos as it slowly picked its way among the rocky cliffs. Meanwhile, the passengers of a tour bus parked nearby were oblivious to the presence of the goat directly above them.

Mountain Goat on the cliffs above Tutshi Lake
Tutshi Lake
Fall colors of the forest – Yukon Territory

Further down the road, I had to stop while workers hung huge metal screens from the top of the rocky cliffs to deflect falling rocks from the roadway. For almost an hour I watched them working, as they dangled hundreds of feet above the road. Just then I noticed a little chipmunk dash across the road and under a large truck to get a handout from the flagman! When traffic finally resumed, I passed through the small town of Carcross, which derives its name from being near a traditional “Caribou crossing” just on the edge of town.

Carcross, Yukon Territory

A couple of hours later I arrived in Whitehorse, the Territorial Capitol of the Yukon, and home of the historic steam powered sternwheel riverboat named “Klondike”.

Steam Sternwheel River Boat “Klondike”

It transported passengers and freight on the mighty Yukon River from the late 1800’s up until 1955! Beginning in 1866, the first steam powered boats began travelling on the lower Yukon River from the village of St Michael on the Bering Sea coast upriver to Nenana and Fairbanks. By the time of the 1898 gold rush, over 300 riverboats were operating and had reached both Dawson City and Whitehorse. For over 45 years, they were the only means of commercial transportation for both freight and passengers into the interior of Alaska and the Yukon. Most of the steamers were built in Seattle or San Francisco, and either sailed up to the Bering Sea or were shipped overland in pieces over White Pass to Lake Bennett to be assembled in Whitehorse. But with the completion of the White Pass and Yukon Railroad in 1900, and the US Government Railroad (now known as the Alaska Railroad) from Anchorage to Fairbanks in 1923, the steamboats suffered a rapid decline in service on the river. However, at the peak of riverboat traffic, they served over 2,000 miles of the Yukon River and its major tributaries. The last two steamboats in regular service were the “Nenana” in Fairbanks and the “Klondike” in Whitehorse. Both vessels were retired in the 1950’s and put on display in their respective cities, but their place in history has lived on for many decades.

Just as I was leaving Whitehorse, I spotted the Yukon Brewing Company, so I had to check it out. I was just in time to join a tasting session and ended up buying a six-pack of “Lead Dog Lager”. Nearby were some of the original tracks of the White Pass and Yukon Railroad, long since abandoned. The railroad now terminates in Fraser, BC, on the shore of Lake Bennett, where thousands of 1898 stampeders ended their arduous trek over the Chilkoot Pass and began the 300 mile journey down the Yukon River on boats and rafts they had to build to reach Dawson City. The route west from Whitehorse took me to Haines Junction and afforded me lovely views of Kluane Lake at the foot of the 18,000 foot high St Elias Range, which was covered in a thick blanket of fresh snow. There were even a few remnants of snow alongside the road.

Kluane Lake
Sunset near Burwash Landing

Several hours later I was rewarded with a gorgeous sunset over the mountains as I passed the small village of Burwash Landing. I stopped to get some coffee at the one and only store/café, and as I went to pay for it, the clerk said it was no charge, since they were about to throw it out anyway! So I just had to ask the question “is it that bad?” (no, it was fine) Leaving Burwash Landing the road became very rough, due to a lot “frost heaving” from the previous Spring Breakup. (that’s the time of year when the winter snow and ice begin to melt during the day and then freeze again overnight) In 1979, when Marion and I drove from Seattle to Anchorage, most of the highway in Canada was unpaved and without any frost heaves. Paving the road with asphalt has exacerbated the frost heave problem significantly.

Alaska Highway – Yukon Territory

As night fell, I was still over 50 miles from Beaver Creek, Yukon – the most westerly community in Canada, and I had passed the last gas station over 100 miles back. I pulled into town just as the “empty” light came on, and then discovered that the Westmark Inn had closed for the season. The only other choice for lodging was “Ida’s Motel”, and fortunately, I walked into the office just as it was closing for the night. An elderly Indian Sikh man took pity on me and gave me the key to the last available room. Then he recommended “Buckshot Betty’s Café” across the road for dinner. (of course, it was the only place that was still open!) I ordered a huge buffalo burger, fries, and a cold LaBatts beer – a welcome sight after 12 hours on the road. Meanwhile, the same vacuum infomercial played continuously on the one and only TV, and at the same time, the radio station played rap and hip hop music – weird! After dinner, I walked back across the road in the light rain and snow to my room, took a couple of beers from the SUV, and turned on the TV. It wasn’t long before I discovered there were only 4 channels – 99 (no signal), 93 (no signal), VID (blank screen) and channel 3 (CTV). So it was pretty obvious that I had only one choice – channel 3, and I was resigned to watching the 11pm national news on CTV (Canadian Broadcasting Network), followed by the “local news” from Vancouver, BC – over 1000 miles south of Beaver Creek!

Approaching Beaver Creek, Yukon

The next morning, I woke up to find light rain and snow with the temperature hovering around 33 degrees. I headed across the road to Buckshot Betty’s for a huge ham and cheese omelet, served with an enormous side of fried potatoes and sourdough toast. The entire place, including reception, serving, cooking and cleaning was handled by one woman! After my coffee cup was refilled a half dozen times, I packed up my gear and headed west to the US Customs post on the Alaska border. A couple of inches of snow remained on the road from the storm, but even under the heavy overcast skies, the brilliant orange and red fall colors of the tundra literally “shined”. A few hours later, as I approached Northway Junction, the skies began to clear and hundreds of lakes in the Tetlin National Wildlife Refuge sparkled under the bright sunshine, for as far as the eye could see.

Tetlin National Wildlife Refuge
Tetlin National Wildlife Refuge

And in the distance, the 18,000 foot high peaks of the mighty Wrangell Mountains, covered in a heavy coat of new snow, began to peek through the clouds. By the time I reached Tok Junction, the road had become an unpredictable combination of perfectly smooth pavement, intermingled with long stretches of rough gravel. Arriving in Tok Junction, I was disappointed to find the old Tok Lodge, a classic log structure, had been demolished and replaced by a new “Mini-Mart”. (at least the coffee was still free)

Alaska Highway – on the way to Glennallen

On my way to Glennallen, the only town for the next 60 miles, I suddenly came upon an elderly native man sitting in a wheelchair by the side of the highway at the turn-off to Gakona Village. He obviously needed a ride, so I stopped, helped him into the SUV, and loaded his wheelchair into the back of the vehicle. His name was David Gene and he was on his way to an appointment at the hospital in Glennallen. During the next 45 miles to Glennallen, he told me his life story, that included drugs, alcohol, throwing his wife out of the house for using drugs, a sister dying of liver cancer in the Anchorage hospital, and on top of that, his left foot was amputated the previous January due to complications from frostbite! David was a very nice guy who had no money and hadn’t eaten in three days. (he was waiting for his welfare check at the end of the month) When we arrived in Glennallen, he asked me to drop him off at the new IGA grocery store. As I helped him into his wheelchair, I reached into my pocket and gave him a $20 bill, for he most certainly needed it far more than me, though he had never asked me for money. He thanked me and said “the wheelchair won’t do me any good in the winter snow”. Then he laughed and I bade him goodbye. As I left, I had no idea how he would get back to his village, but surely another kind stranger would take pity on him. Leaving Glennallen, now bound for Anchorage, I reflected back on my encounter with David, and how he spoke of his life and the challenges he had faced, all rather matter of fact, as if it was his destiny. Although he was only 52 years old, he looked well over 80. And though his body odor was particularly strong, I really had to admire him for taking the “straight road”, as he put it. I hope he survives long enough to pass along his native culture to the younger generation in his village. As we had parted company at the IGA store, David repeated his name and invited me to his home in Gakona Village. His parting words to me were “I’m in the phone book”. And as I drove to Anchorage, I considered it a privilege to have met David, and who knows, maybe someday I’ll see him again! A few hours later, at Eagle Summit, there were incredible views of the rugged Chugach Mountains and several glaciers, including the enormous Tazlina Glacier.

Chugach Mountains
Tazlina Glacier

Further on was the rustic Sheep Mountain Lodge, and as I scanned the steep, rocky cliffs with my binoculars, I spotted a dozen Dall Sheep slowly making their way across the mountain single file. So there’s an obvious reason why it’s called Sheep Mountain.

Sheep Mountain
Dall Sheep
Matanuska Glacier

Later, just outside of Anchorage, I saw a sign for Reflection Lake State Park, so I stopped briefly to take some photos of the jagged snow covered peaks reflected beautifully in the still water. It was a little gem to discover just a few hundred feet from the busy 4-lane Glenn Highway.

Reflection Lake
Reflection Lake
Reflection Lake

Once I arrived in Anchorage, I checked into the Captain Cook Hotel, and then walked over to the Snow Goose Brewery for a cold Pale Ale. Later the bartender offered me a taste of their latest brew, a seasonal “Pumpkin Spice Ale”, with a distinct taste of blackstrap molasses and pumpkin pie spices. It would be delicious with a chocolate dessert. Then it was over to the Glacier Brewhouse for a fantastic dinner of fresh halibut baked in Thai chili sauce, served over garlic mashed potatoes with kale sautéed in bacon. The next morning was cold, wet, and cloudy – a very typical day in Anchorage. The huge Dungeness crab omelet with sourdough toast and huckleberry jam was a perfect start to the day, which I spent visiting familiar sights around the city.

Anchorage, Alaska
Westchester Lagoon, Anchorage

That evening I joined Marion and Michael for a delicious dinner at a new restaurant named Kinley’s. Dinner began with a superb calamari steak in a mild chili sauce, followed by a fantastic crispy duck breast. The main dish of pistachio crusted, baked Alaskan Black Cod, served with tomato risotto, a mix of sautéed local vegetables and wild Alaskan mushrooms was superb! During dinner, we had a great conversation about the twin boys, Ben and Sam, as well as Michael’s new position as the general manager of the Snow Goose Brewery and Restaurant, and Marion’s new job managing the Bridge Restaurant. Both Marion and Michael were excited about attending Sam’s graduation from basic training at Fort Sill, Oklahoma the following week. From Fort Sill, Sam will be assigned to Fort Huachuca, Arizona for advanced training in military intelligence. Before we left the restaurant, Michael told us about the weird history and design of the Snow Goose building, which has five levels, was once the Elks Club, and had a bowling alley on the ground level. A fascinating bit of history that few people were aware of, but a very difficult challenge for remodeling.

Talkeetna Mountains

The next morning, I drove north of Anchorage to Hatcher Pass in the Talkeetna Mountains, under sunny skies. As I passed through the Matanuska Valley, there were lovely views of farms and snow-capped peaks beyond. The road followed the Little Susitna River up some steep inclines until finally reaching the pass.

Trail to Independence Mine State Historical Park

Just beyond was the trail to the Independence Mine State Historical Park. As I hiked among the old buildings, the State Park had placed some very interesting interpretive signs detailing the history of the mine, the mill, and the small town that grew up around it. The mine yielded over 150,000 ounces of gold between the time it opened in 1938 until it closed in 1951. Since it had been established relatively recently, most of the buildings were pretty modern , well maintained, and with all the amenities of the period. At the height of mining activity, it was home to over 800 people and had a post office, church, general store, and a school. The State Park did a great job of preserving the history of a gold mining region in the heart of the Talkeetna Mountains, just two hours north of Anchorage.

Independence Mine State Historical Park
Independence Mine State Historical Park
Independence Mine State Historical Park

The first mining activity in the region dates back to 1897, but the serious operations began in 1934, and at the peak of production, the area was the second largest hard-rock gold mining operation in the state. The Wasilla Mining Company built a substantial work camp (town) consisting of wood frame buildings, originally connected by sheltered wooden “tunnels”, due to the very heavy winter snow that could bury many of the buildings. Since the mine operated until 1951, the structures remain in excellent condition, with the exception of the mill, where most of the heavy machinery was salvaged and removed. Alaska State Parks has done an outstanding job of maintaining the town (work camp) and establishing many interpretive signs and exhibits explaining the history of the area. It was a fascinating and educational experience walking around the old town.

Independence Mine State Historical Park
Independence Mine State Historical Park

The landscape surrounding the mine was well above timberline and the fall colors of the tundra were gorgeous, especially with the rugged mountains covered in fresh snow. At one point, I noticed a young couple being photographed for their wedding – a most unique and beautiful location for the event.

Later in the afternoon, I hiked down to the Hatcher Pass Lodge for lunch and enjoyed a delicious grilled black forest ham and Tillamook cheddar cheese sandwich, along with a cold Alaska Pale Ale. As I sat in the old log building, savoring the sandwich, I had a spectacular view of the Matanuska Valley 3000 feet below and the rugged Chugach Range beyond. On the way back to Anchorage, I made a short detour to Eklutna Lake in Chugach State Park. There were lovely views of the brilliant fall foliage reflected in the steel blue glacial water.

Eklutna lake
Fall colors of the tundra

Back in the city, I checked into the Millennium Alaska Hotel on the shore of Lake Hood, so as to be close to the airport for my departure early the next morning. After walking around the lake taking photos of the seaplanes taking off and landing, I ended up in the Fancy Moose Bar for a fantastic dinner of fresh halibut and chips, along with a cold pint of Alaskan Pale Ale. (note: Lake Hood is the largest and busiest seaplane base in the world)

Seaplane taking off from Lake Hood – Anchorage

Meanwhile, a young man played some great music on his guitar in one corner of the bar, but unfortunately, no one else seemed to notice. Later in the evening, as I headed to my room, I passed a large group in the hotel lobby with heavy loads of luggage and equipment. My first thought was it must be some sort of expedition. Early the next morning, I dropped off the rental car at the airport and checked in for the Alaska Airlines flight to Seattle and on to LA. The departure was pretty bumpy as we passed through the heavy layer of clouds, but once above 15,000 feet there were incredible views of rugged mountains and glaciers peeking above the clouds. Further on, as we passed over Prince William Sound, the view of massive tidewater glaciers, some larger than the state of Rhode Island, was nothing short of astounding!

Columbia Glacier – Prince William Sound

Later, as the cloud cover returned, I watched the new movie “Inception” on the personal digi-player. The film was incredibly complicated, being about dreams within dreams, within dreams – but it was certainly fascinating. During the short layover in Seattle, I had a pint of Goose Island IPA at the Marketplace Bar, as a very crowded Japan Airlines flight to Tokyo boarded nearby. On the flight to LA I ordered a gin and tonic with a lime from an elderly male flight attendant who said, “sir, a gin and tonic without a lime is not a proper gin and tonic”! As the sun set over the Pacific Ocean, we landed in LA and I took the express bus to Union Station where I boarded the train to San Bernardino. During the ride home that evening, I looked back on my trip and knew that I had been richly rewarded with tons of amazing stories and hundreds of beautiful photographs that are memories I will carry with me forever. Alaska will always remain a special place in my heart!

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California to Alaska by Land, Sea, and Air (part 2 of 3)

After checking in to SGT Preston’s Lodge, I spent a couple of hours walking around the small town of Skagway, taking photos of the beautifully restored old Victorian buildings, many of which form part of the Klondike National Historic Park managed by the National Park Service. (another part of the park is in the Pioneer Square Historic District in Seattle, where the vast majority of gold seekers began their journey north to the gold fields of Alaska and the Yukon)

Main Street in Skagway, Alaska
Old Newspaper Building from 1898

One of the most fascinating historical restorations in Skagway was the “Mascot Saloon”, which was a very realistic re-creation of a typical bar scene from the gold rush days of 1898, complete with lifelike models and sound effects. It could easily “fool” passersby into thinking it was a real-life saloon. However, once inside it was very clear that the men standing at the bar, as well as the bartender, were not real. Throughout the saloon were lots of historical exhibits and old photos, as well as information about the saloon and its place in the colorful history of Skagway.

Inside the Mascot Saloon

Later I visited the White Pass and Yukon Railroad depot to buy a ticket on the excursion train the next morning, but I found the doors were locked. As I walked around to the front of the building, I came upon two men talking, so I asked the older man if he worked for the railroad, to which he replied “I used to run the railroad, but now I’m the mayor of Skagway – is there any way I can help you?” He directed me to the depot entrance and introduced me to a very nice lady at the ticket window, who sold me a ticket for tomorrow’s train. I thought I would be one of a very few passengers on the train, but lo and behold, she said two large cruise ships were due in port tonight and had fully booked one of the trains. Apparently these two cruise ships were the last ones of the season, which explained the preponderance of signs posted around town announcing the closure of most businesses for the season on Thursday!

White Pass & Yukon Railroad Depot

Next door, the National Park Service Visitor Center had a fantastic display of exhibits and information, including a film, about the 1898 Klondike Gold Rush that put Skagway on the map. Over 100,000 people “stampeded” to the Klondike, and amazingly, over 30,000 of them actually made it all the way to Dawson City in the heart of the Yukon Territory.

Klondike National Historical Park Visitor Center
Exhibit of the supplies each gold seeker had to carry to Dawson City

After spending a couple of hours in the Visitor Center learning a great deal of fascinating history, I headed for the infamous “Red Onion Saloon”. (reputed to be Skagway’s favorite watering hole, then and now) However, I found that it didn’t open until 4pm, so I walked down to the dock to take a photo of the Alaska Ferry MV Malaspina as it left port for Sitka and points south to Bellingham. As I approached the dock, the smell of delicious food wafted past me, being prepared in a small restaurant called “Harbor House”. The lovely smells invited me into the restaurant and I discovered a neat little place with only 3 booths and a couple of tables, all of which had a beautiful view of the harbor.

Skagway harbor and MV Malaspina ferry

Josh, the owner, welcomed me and highly recommended the fresh, local Rockfish in a tempura fry, served with a delicious pineapple-mango salsa, black bean chipotle sauce, and basmati rice. It was superb, and a most unexpected surprise for such a small, remote town! The warm, crusty sourdough bread and butter to start with was very tasty and went quite well with the cold pint of Alaskan IPA. As I savored dinner, I watched the MV Malaspina depart from the dock. Meanwhile, a young Italian couple at the next table were having some difficulty understanding Josh’s heavy Brooklyn accent, so I did my best to translate for them! After the fabulous dinner, I walked back to the Red Onion Saloon, and as I approached the historic old structure, a little girl in a bright pink dress said hello and walked in. Once inside, as I looked around the classic old bar, I was struck by the view of a long row of old “bedpans”, of every conceivable size and shape, nailed to the wall on one side of the room. On the opposite wall, above the ornate, old fashioned carved wooden bar, hung the painted portraits of Skagway’s most notorious “Ladies of the Night”! (the upper floor of the old bar was a brothel during the heydays of the gold rush) At first, as I sat down at the long bar, I was only one of three people in the whole place. Then suddenly, a very large group of young people invaded the bar, and soon I found myself surrounded and outnumbered. It was clear that they all knew the bar staff and the bar staff knew them. In no time, there was a lot of beer flowing and food being consumed. Then suddenly, a bell was rung and shots of Jameson Irish whiskey were poured for everyone in the bar, at which point, we were all told to stand up and “salute” our shot! One of the girls climbed on to a bar stool next to me and proceeded to take a photo of the group. I asked her what was the occasion and she replied “it’s the “Skagway Brewing Company” staff party. That explained the sign I had seen earlier on the front door of the brewery announcing it was “Closed for Staff Party”, which I had assumed was being held in the brewery. Ironically, the Red Onion Saloon did not have a single beer from the Skagway Brewing Company on tap. Meanwhile, old 60’s and 70’s tunes played on an old jukebox in the corner. Around 7:30pm, a local band by the name of “The Windy Valley Boys” began to play and soon, the old bar began to fill up with local families and small children. As I looked around the bar, it was hard to imagine what it might be like when two huge cruise ships dock in port tomorrow. The Windy Valley Boys played some great Irish and Cajun music, and it wasn’t long before people began dancing, especially the young kids. One cute little blond boy kept racing around between the tables while his young mother ran after him, trying in vain to catch him. And the whole time he was laughing and having lots of fun. Later in the evening, as the band took a break, I talked with their leader and bought a copy of their one and only CD titled “Alaskagway”. Before I left the saloon that night, I asked the tall blonde bartender what the place was like when cruise ships were in town. She told me that she and all the waitresses dressed up in tight corsets and 1890’s dance hall dresses! Then she showed me a copy of the saloon’s new 2014 calendar with classic “pin-up” photos of her and the waitresses – they were gorgeous girls, but like night and day from their “everyday” look!

Red Onion Saloon
The “Windy Valley Boys”

The next morning I was up early to catch the 8:15am train to White Pass summit, and as I turned the corner on the Broadway, I encountered hoards of people on the street, where the previous day I might have seen only 2 or 3 people! (it was a bit of a shock) Alongside the depot was a long train already filled with cruise ship passengers and ready to depart for Fraser, BC and a transfer by bus to Whitehorse in the Yukon Territory. A short time later, a smaller train of antique coaches pulled into the station for the 8:15am departure. As we boarded the train , we were greeted by two vivacious young ladies named Erin and Kylie, our tour guides. The journey would take us up to the White Pass summit at over 3,000 feet elevation in a short and steep 20 miles. The first half of the trip followed a narrow valley along the banks of the Skagway River, as the fog and clouds began to lift and the skies cleared. It wasn’t long before the route began the steep climb up the slope of the canyon, which gave us spectacular views of the other train as it climbed up the very steep, rocky mountain on the opposite side of the canyon over 1,000 feet above us. We could see several wooden bridges and trestles “clinging” to the rocky ledges – an amazing sight!

Route of the railroad up to White Pass
Climbing up the mountain

And hundreds of feet below us were the rails on which we had just come up earlier. As our train rounded the steep mountain, heading north again, we had spectacular views down the valley, all the way to ocean – the huge cruise ships looked like tiny white “boxes” on the edge of town! Soon the train approached the first tunnel, and then past an enormous, old wooden trestle bridge, long since abandoned and replaced with a steel girder bridge.

Old wooden trestle bridge from 1898

As we neared the summit of White Pass, the landscape abruptly changed from alpine forest into tundra, with low brush scattered among the rocky ground and alpine lakes. As I looked to the side of the rails I could see the remaining traces of the original and infamous “Trail of 98”, where thousands of “stampeders” spent weeks hauling heavy loads of supplies up the steep trail to White Pass. From there they had another 50 miles to go to the shores of Lake Bennett where they needed to build a boat or raft for the 300 mile journey down the Yukon River to the gold fields of Dawson City. As I gazed at the unforgiving, desolate, and remote landscape, I could not imagine how those stampeders had managed to even reach the summit in the dead of winter when the depth of snow could be over 20 feet, let alone survive the hazardous trip down the mighty Yukon River where dangerous rapids awaited them. The trek from Skagway to Dawson City, a distance of 450 miles, would have been a serious challenge for experienced explorers, let alone young office clerks and salesmen who left everything in 1898 to strike it rich in the Yukon! Even today, with our modern outdoor gear and technology, it still remains a challenge.

Nearing the summit of White Pass

As the train crossed the Canadian border, there was a replica of a Northwest Mounted Police checkpoint where every stampeder had to show he had supplies for a year before being allowed to proceed. (it could take 15 – 20 trips up the 3,000 foot steep trail from Skagway to White Pass summit in order to transport the thousands of pounds of supplies required by the mounties) As the locomotives unhooked and moved to the rear of the train for the return journey to Skagway, there was an announcement by Kylie that this was Erin’s last trip of her first season, and as tradition goes, she would take the “plunge” into the freezing waters of Summit Lake on the edge of the tracks. Most of us were a bit skeptical, thinking it must be a “stunt” for the tourists. But then, as we all were poised with our cameras, she stepped off the train, with the conductor, and approached the water’s edge. And to our amazement, she dove into the icy lake! The whole train applauded and cheered as she quickly climbed back on shore. Then Kylie came on the PA system and announced that today was also her last day for her first season, so she would be taking the “plunge” in the afternoon! (we all wished her good luck)

Replica of Northwest Mounted Police station on the Canadian border

As our train slowly made its way back to Skagway, descending the steep slopes, we could see the other train on the opposite side of the narrow valley, over a thousand feet below us – a spectacular sight. Back in Skagway, I walked over to a small outdoor café for a delicious lunch of fresh halibut and chips while sitting under brilliant, sunny skies. An elderly couple seated nearby struck up an interesting conversation about the experience on board their cruise ship versus my trip on the Alaska Ferry. Later in the afternoon I hiked along the old railroad line to the historic “Gold Rush Cemetery” on the north edge of town, and along the way I discovered an old, rusting steam locomotive sitting on a short spur – weeds growing up through the big drive wheels. As I walked up to it I could almost hear the history of the old iron horse echoing softly through the surrounding forest. I could only imagine its glory days as a part of the 1898 gold rush. Nearby was another silent resting place of gold rush history and some of the colorful characters who left their mark on Skagway.

Old steam locomotive
Graves in the Gold Rush Cemetery

A short trail weaved its way among the old graves to Lower Reid Falls, named in honor of Frank Reid who shot and killed the notorious gang leader “Soapy Smith”. Soapy was killed outright, but unfortunately, Frank died 12 agonizing days later from a gunshot in the groin. As I looked at Frank’s headstone, I recalled that earlier in the day, aboard the train, the way Kylie had put it, Frank lost his golden nuggets! The falls were gorgeous, dropping over 300 feet in a very steep, narrow, rocky gorge. As I left the cemetery, I saw a small grave that marked the site of a baby who was born on July 21, 1899 and died July 22, 1899. I couldn’t help feeling rather sad at that moment, even though it happened over 100 years ago. Just then, a large group of tourists arrived in a classic old antique National Park Service tour bus. On my way back to town I spotted the remains of another old steam locomotive, but there was an unusual aspect about it. Of the six large drive wheels, the two in the middle were smooth, without the usual “flange” to keep the wheels on the rails. Not far away was the “Gold Rush Brewery”, which unfortunately was closed for the season, but I had an opportunity to take photos of an old gold dredge that was left at the last place where the gold had finally run out many decades ago. In a way, it marked the spot like that of a headstone on a grave. Eventually I reached downtown and stopped at the Skagway Brewing Company for a cold pint of their “Chilkoot Trail IPA”. At first there was only a handful of people in the bar, but soon the cruise ships invaded the place, and among the crowd were a significant number of Aussies who added a lot fun and cheer! Later in the evening, I walked down to the cruise ship dock and took photos of the two enormous ships as the alpenglow of the sunset reflected beautifully on the rugged mountains rising thousands of feet above them. (“Zuiderdam” of the Holland-America Line and “Sapphire Princess” of Princess Cruise Lines) As I looked north up Main Street, a steady stream of people were headed toward the ships, as they would soon be departing for Glacier Bay. And soon the town would be deserted once again!

Cruise ships in Skagway port
Fishing boats in Skagway harbor

As the sun slowly set and stars began to appear, I looked for a place to have dinner. Suddenly I spotted a tiny restaurant by the name “The Curry Bowl”, on a small side street. As I entered the little place, I quickly realized that I was the only customer. The restaurant had a limited menu, but my favorite Indian dish was on it – Chicken Tikka Masala! As I enjoyed the spicy food, several Bollywood musicals played on the TV in the corner. A short time later, an elderly Indian couple came in, and immediately the owner and his wife greeted them as old friends. Then they all began a lively conversation in Hindi. (that’s when I knew this was an authentic Indian restaurant – the last thing I had expected to find in Skagway, Alaska!) By the time I finished dinner, night had fallen and the streets were virtually deserted. I walked over to the Skagway Brewing Company once more, and it was packed with locals celebrating the end of the tourist season. Luckily there was one empty seat at the bar, and the bartender recognized me from the previous night. He suggested that I try the specialty of the house, a cold pint of “Spruce Tip Blonde Ale”. It definitely had a most unusual taste – that of spruce, fir, and pine trees! It was an interesting tasting experience, but I preferred the Chilkoot Trail IPA. As the evening progressed, it became a wild celebration, with several rounds for the whole bar. I managed to make my exit before midnight and walked back to SGT Preston’s Lodge, along the dark, silent streets, as a light rain began to fall.

Early the next morning, under wet, cloudy skies, I walked over to the Avis Car Rental office and picked up a new Ford Explorer that would take me to Anchorage. But before leaving Skagway, I drove to the nearby Dyea National Historical Site and the start of the famous Chilkoot Trail. The town of Dyea sprang up almost overnight at the start of the Klondike Gold Rush in 1898, when it became a port for unloading supplies being shipped from Seattle and San Francisco. It was also a point of departure for prospectors seeking their fortune in the gold fields of Alaska and the Yukon. Dyea was the nearest port to the beginning of the Chilkoot Trail, an old native route over the mountains to the interior, that rapidly became a major route for gold seekers on their 500 mile journey. The Chilkoot Trail rises steeply over 3000 feet to Chilkoot Pass and the Canadian border. In the winter of 1898, men spent weeks hauling heavy loads on their backs up and over the pass to a staging area on the shore of Lake Bennett. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police required each man to have a minimum of 2000 pounds (1 ton) of supplies at the border before they were allowed to proceed to the lake. The most famous image of the Klondike Gold Rush remains a photograph of the Chilkoot Trail where hundreds of men with heavy packs on their back, were lined up, one behind the other on the steep snow covered slope up to the pass. (the image also became imprinted on the Alaska state license plate for many years)

Stampeders climbing the trail up to Chilkoot Pass – winter 1898

By the summer of 1899, the trail was eclipsed by the opening of the White Pass and Yukon Railroad in Skagway, a much shorter and more efficient route. Today the Chilkoot Trail is a popular hiking adventure during the summer months, and a fascinating historical journey back in time.

From the old townsite of Dyea, I began the long drive up the steep Klondike Highway to White Pass summit, on my way to Whitehorse. Along the way were spectacular views of Skagway far below, and upon reaching the summit, the views of the rugged Coast Mountains in British Columbia were equally spectacular. Then it was on to the Canadian border crossing and into the Yukon Territory. (stay tuned for part 3)

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Across Canada by Train – Vancouver to Halifax

In May of 1981, while I was studying for my PHD in Satellite Image Analysis at the University of British Columbia, I bought a 30 day VIA rail pass. Then I boarded Train #2, the Canadian Pacific “Canadien” bound for Toronto, a journey of 2 nights and 3 days.

Boarding the train in Vancouver
Boarding the train in Vancouver

The route took me into the heart of the Canadian Rockies over Rogers Pass and Kicking Horse Pass through several amazing tunnels that were engineered to overcome the steep mountain terrain. The tunnel through Rogers Pass was over 5 miles long and to get over Kicking Horse Pass required two tunnels, one of which was a 360 degree turn and the other in the shape of a giant figure 8! Throughout the trip through the Rockies, our onboard tour guide named Billy, who had traveled this route twice a week for over 5 years, knew every rock and tree along the tracks – and he let everyone know it too, dozens of times!

Fraser River Canyon
Fraser River Canyon
Snowsheds in the Coast Mountains of British Columbia
Avalanches and snowsheds in the Coast Mountains of British Columbia

That evening as the train approached Banff it began to snow, so that by the time we stopped at the beautiful, rustic station, there were several inches of snow on the ground.

Canadian Rockies near Rogers Pass
Canadian Rockies near Rogers Pass
Approaching Banff, Alberta
Approaching Banff, Alberta

As the train left Banff, I retired to my sleeper for a most restful night as the train rolled on into the gathering darkness across the vast prairies of Alberta and Saskatchewan. The perfectly flat landscape was illuminated under a full moon and in stark contrast to the rugged mountains of British Columbia.

Leaving the Rockies and entering the prairies
Leaving the Rockies and entering the prairies


The prairies of Saskatchewan
The prairies of Saskatchewan

The next morning, I awoke with the sun and as I looked out the window I had to wonder if the train had moved at all during the night, since the flat landscape of the prairie remained virtually the same as when I had fallen asleep! But indeed we had travelled several hundred miles and were approaching Manitoba where we were scheduled to stopover in Winnipeg to change crews and service the train. Meanwhile, as I sat down to a hearty breakfast in the dining car, we passed huge expanses of wheat fields and long stretches of perfectly straight track. Only occasionally did we pass any signs of civilization, usually in the form of tall, massive grain elevators, appearing as the “citadels” of the prairie.

Grain elevators in Saskatchewan
Grain elevators in Saskatchewan

As we arrived in Winnipeg the weather changed suddenly, becoming very windy and cold as I took a long walk around downtown, past the provincial Parliament buildings and the lovely park alongside the Assiniboine River. Back at the old railroad station I grabbed a hamburger in the cafeteria before the train departed. The cafeteria was an old musty, dingy place that looked like an old institution for the mentally ill, and indeed, most of the customers looked like patients! Once back on the train we continued our journey east to the province of Ontario.

Arriving in Winnipeg, Manitoba
Arriving in Winnipeg, Manitoba
Fort Garry Hotel in Winnipeg
Fort Garry Hotel in Winnipeg

Most of the day was spent travelling through dense forests and past many small lakes, all amidst heavy snow. The route took us along the rocky shore of Lake Superior, past Thunder Bay and Lake Huron.

Sunset across Lake Superior
Sunset across Lake Superior
Lake Huron
Lake Huron

Later in the afternoon I joined a small group of Aussies who were going to a French language immersion program in Trois-Rivieres, Quebec. We enjoyed a game of cards in the lounge car before dinner in the dining car, where the Chief Steward was having a fun time as a comedian calling out the numbers in a game of bingo. Meanwhile I savored a delicious plate of fresh local Whitefish. Later that evening I joined the Aussies and an elderly grandmother from Calgary for a beer in the lounge car before retiring for the night. I was awoken briefly about 2am as the train shuffled in Sudbury to split for destinations of Toronto and Montreal. The next morning during breakfast in the dining car we were told that granny from Calgary woke up to find herself on the wrong half of the train! Apparently she had switched compartments with another man without telling the porter or conductor. So they had awakened the man at 2am thinking he was going to Montreal, but when he said no, they left it at that. Later in the day we arrived in Toronto, and although we were 2 hours late I had just enough time to cross the platform and board the train to Windsor, otherwise I would have had to wait another 4 hours.

Approaching Toronto
Approaching Toronto
CN Tower in Toronto
CN Tower in Toronto

Over the next few days I stayed with my cousins in Windsor, Ontario while I attended a Remote Sensing conference at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. Every day I boarded a bus to Ann Arbor and a daily crossing of the international border in Detroit. One day my cousins Lorraine and Barry met me for dinner at the new Renaissance Center in downtown Detroit. The center was an impressive complex of four tall dark glass towers rising from the river’s edge, shining brilliantly in the glow of an evening sun, like gleaming pinnacles above the inner city. In the middle of the complex was an even higher central tower housing the world’s tallest hotel. Within the Renaissance Center were a myriad of shops, cafes, lounges, and many entertainment attractions set among a beautiful urban forest of trees, flowers and an array of tropical plants. There were many quiet corners with luxurious sofas, chairs and tables, often on several levels overlooking the huge atrium – truly a beautiful place in the very heart of the city. As we sat in the rooftop restaurant we enjoyed a fabulous dinner along with spectacular views of the city at night.

View of downtown Detroit from top of Renaissance Center
View of downtown Detroit from top of Renaissance Center

Unfortunately, Barry had forgotten where he had parked in the huge complex and of course, I was of no help. So we wandered around the massive parking structure for half an hour before he spotted the grey van. (at least he had remembered what level he had parked on, thank goodness, given the 8 levels of parking)

One morning, as I rode the bus to Ann Arbor, we passed a huge Goodyear company sign along the freeway that showed the 1981 car production, the number of which increased every 2 – 3 seconds. On the return trip that day we passed many automotive plants, including the Ford world headquarters in Dearborn, as well as the Uniroyal Tire Company with its monster 50 foot high tire outside. Nearby was the Libby-Owens glass company with a huge billboard that read “Buy an American car and Keep America Rolling”. As we approached Detroit there were hundreds of rail cars stacked with new automobiles heading for all parts of the country. One evening, after the conference, I stopped for a drink at the “Inner Circle” bar in the Renaissance Center. The bar was surrounded by a moat and slowly rotated, affording beautiful views of the atrium. A group of conference attendees were seated behind me, all of them commenting on the ladies that strolled by. Suddenly there were some loud noises which sounded like “farts” coming from one of the guys in the group. Turned out to be the result of his soft vinyl chair rubbing against the retaining wall as the bar slowly moved by! The rest of the group gave him some grief about it for the rest of the evening. The view of the sunset from the top of the hotel tower was exceptionally beautiful as it reflected in the waters of the St Claire River.

The following morning, I bid farewell to my cousins and boarded the train to London, Ontario to visit with my aunt, and then on to Toronto to catch the train to Montreal. Since the Montreal train was overbooked in coach class a kind old conductor upgraded me to First class where I enjoyed complimentary snacks, beverages, and a lot more space around my seat for the five hour trip. Arriving in Montreal I had over 2 hours before the departure of the overnight train to Halifax, Nova Scotia so I spent the time walking around Mt Royal Park, the McGill University campus, and the old downtown district.

Streets of old Montreal
Streets of old Montreal
Old Montreal
Old Montreal
View of Montreal from Mont Royal park
View of Montreal from Mont Royal Park

By then it was time to board the “Atlantique” train bound for Halifax by way of a route through the state of Maine. Shortly after departure from the beautiful Victorian era railway station in Montreal, I made my way to the dining car and enjoyed a delicious dinner of fresh grilled halibut and potatoes au gratin, along with a cold glass of Molson beer. Soon afterwards the train crossed the international border into Maine, but the border formalities were minimal, just involving a US Immigration officer and the conductor taking a head count. (The same thing took place as the train left Maine the next morning and entered New Brunswick. I don’t know what would happen if the counts didn’t jive, although it would be very dangerous for anyone to leave the train since it doesn’t stop anywhere in Maine, or even slow down for that matter.) It wasn’t very easy getting any sleep in my seat that night as a group of high school students were up most of the time and constantly running up and down the aisle. But eventually the sun rose and the train arrived in Halifax. After a hearty breakfast on the train I headed for the historic old Carleton Hotel on the waterfront. Along the way I passed through beautiful old neighborhoods with many fine restored old Victorian homes, one of which was the residence of the Austrian Consulate near Point Pleasant Park.

Historic church in Halifax
Historic church in Halifax
Halifax Harbor
Halifax Harbor

Later I spent some time walking along the beautiful trails hugging the rocky shoreline of Halifax harbor, where a few old shore gun emplacements remained from a distant past. Further on the trail I saw the huge container shipping docks that handled well over 175,000 containers each year. Returning to the hotel the weather had become very cold and windy, so a hot bath before sitting down to dinner in the hotel restaurant called the “News Room” was very welcome indeed. The restaurant was decorated with lots of green plants and a huge skylight than spanned the entire length. For dinner I ordered a whole lobster boiled and split down the middle, and along with corn on the cob and Cole slaw it was perfect.

The Citadel in Halifax, Nova Scotia
The Citadel in Halifax, Nova Scotia

The next day I walked up to “The Citadel”, an historic old fortress protecting the Halifax harbor, from which the views were spectacular. As I walked along the shore I spotted a gorgeous sailing schooner named the Bluenose II leaving the harbor under full sail. Further on I came to “The Historic Properties”, also known as Old Halifax. It was a beautiful collection of old restored stone buildings that dated back to the late 1700’s.

Historic properties - Halifiax
Historic properties – Halifiax

Later on, as I walked back into the center of town, I came upon the scene of an accident where a charter bus had lost its brakes, careened downhill, and took out 3 tall steel lamposts and a traffic signal before coming to a stop. (no one appeared to have been injured) Just beyond downtown was St Paul’s cemetery where I saw some very old tombstones dating back to 1760, with the most recent being 1867! Most of the gravestones were blackened from age – the inscriptions being almost beyond reading from the effects of 150 years of weathering. Nearby was an old storefront that had been turned into a trendy new restaurant called “Lawrence of Oregano” – its name inscribed in a gorgeous stained glass window. Soon it was time to check out of the hotel and head for the train station to carry on with my journey across Canada. It just happened to be the same time as the “noon gun” at the Citadel was fired every day, so it was my send off from Halifax. The train proceeded north to the small town of Sydney on Cape Breton Island through a landscape of soft rounded hills and small farms with deep green fields. Scattered along the way were many small lakes tucked away in the forest, and as we slowly passed through this pastoral countryside, small herds of cows, sheep, and the occasional draft horse grazed on the lush green pastures. The scene reminded me very much of Shropshire in England.

Cape Breton Island
Cape Breton Island

Then I noticed a middle-aged, overweight couple sitting across the aisle, munching on a large bag of “Munchies”. Meanwhile, the woman was reading the “Star” tabloid, and a large headline on the front page read “Did junk food cause the attack on Reagan?” A few hours later after changing trains in Sydney I was on my way to Amherst, Nova Scotia where I would catch the bus and ferry to Prince Edward Island. I spent an hour walking around the small village of Amherst before boarding the bus that would take us to the ferry. The bus driver was a very cheerful chap who enjoyed “bantering” with the elderly East Indian woman sitting up front, as he was careening around curves, freewheeling downhill, and overtaking everyone on the road. Meanwhile, the lady was “gripping” her armrest for dear life! The bus also had a CB radio and our driver seemed to know all the truckers on the road. So as we rolled through the lovely countryside toward Charlottetown, there was a lot of CB talk going on. At one point a very sexy, husky female voice came on the radio with the handle of Midnight Magic! Needless to say, she really stirred up the airwaves and received a lot of attention. Along the route the bus driver seemed to know everyone and constantly honked the horn to say hello. I came to discover later that the island is a very friendly but tight knit community – quite conservative and traditional. It’s said that an “Islander” is someone who was born on PEI and everyone else is just a resident. (I was always aware of being an outsider here, but in no way unwelcome)

As we approached Charlottetown, the provincial capital, our bus driver pointed out a famous landmark, “The House of Seven Kitchens”. (a restaurant owned by Mr. and Mrs. Kitchen and their five children) Another “landmark” on our route was “Andy’s Dummy Farm”, where all manner of dummies were scattered around Andy MacDonald’s front yard. As the story goes, Andy drives an old Buick station wagon around town with a bunch of dummies sitting in the back seat! Finally, we arrived in Charlottetown and I checked into the historic Dundee Arms hotel across the street from a lovely park. The following morning, as I enjoyed a traditional English breakfast in the old Victorian dining room, I read the byline on the front page of the Guardian Newspaper – “covers Prince Edward Island like the dew”. Downtown was a very old, historical district of red brick and wood frame buildings which were beautifully restored.

Old graveyard in Charlottetown, Prince Edward island
Old graveyard in Charlottetown, Prince Edward island

The streets were lined with large shade trees and many of the houses sat just a few feet from the street, reminiscent of old European cities. At the foot of the waterfront was Victoria Park with gorgeous views of the harbor and some old coastal fortifications dating from the early 1800’s. On the edge of the park sat an old Georgian style mansion known as Government House, the residence of the island’s Governor.

Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island
Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island
Governor's Mansion in Charlottetown
Government House, Charlottetown

Nearby were two large Norman Cathedrals and a very old cemetery dating from the late 1700’s. In the distance, across the harbor, was a large terminal for the Canadian National Marine Ferry that travels to New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. Later in the evening, after strolling around the town, I found a fascinating place for dinner. It was “Pat’s Rose and Grey Café”, formerly an old drugstore with exceptionally high stamped tin ceilings, dark wood paneling, an old marble soda fountain, and an entire wall of drawers and glass door cabinets made from solid mahogany. In addition, there were many antique lamps, old wooden tables, and overstuffed chairs. It was not only beautiful, but it had a very comfortable feeling about it, like being invited back into the 19th century.

CN Ferry from Prince Edward Island to Nova Scotia
CN Ferry from Prince Edward Island to Nova Scotia

Early the next morning I boarded the CN ferry for Nova Scotia and the small village of Amherst once again where I would catch the train to Quebec City. The route of the train through northern New Brunswick and southern Quebec reminded me a bit of Alaska, with large expanses Birch and Spruce forest intermingled with marshland and bogs.

Northern New Brunswick
Northern New Brunswick

At one point, the train suddenly stopped somewhere between O’Brien and White River to pick up a couple and their fishing gear beside the tracks, just like the Alaska railroad does. Upon arriving in Quebec City, I had five hours to see a few of the many historic sites before the departure of the train to Montreal. On the approach to the city we had a spectacular view of the historic “Chateau le Frontenac Hotel” standing tall on the high bluff overlooking the St Lawrence River. It’s the classic view that defines Quebec City and it was particularly stunning in the early morning light.

Chateau le Frontenac, Quebec City
Chateau le Frontenac, Quebec City

After a cup of French coffee in the hotel, I walked over to the ramparts of the old Citadel, the original fortress protecting the city and guarding the entrance to the river. There I also found the historic “Plains of Abraham”, a large open field where a crucial battle was fought between the English and the French in 1759 that resulted in domination of Canada by the English and the establishment of present day Quebec Province. As I walked around the old city for the next couple of hours, it reminded me very much of Paris and was a real immersion in the French culture. Along the narrow cobble stone streets were many small shops, cafes, and art galleries that were bustling with people shopping and enjoying their morning coffee and croissants.

Streets of old Quebec City
Streets of old Quebec City
The Ramparts, Quebec City
The Ramparts, Quebec City

Later, on my back to St Foy station to board the train for Montreal, I passed the statues of Champlain, who founded Quebec City in 1624, and Jacques Cartier who lead the first French exploration of North America.

Statue of Jacques Cartier, Quebec City
Statue of Jacques Cartier, Quebec City


The train to Montreal turned out to be just one railcar that had to accommodate a large group of school children in addition to the regular complement of passengers! At first the children were quiet, but soon the excitement of their school outing became infectious throughout the car. Fortunately, they departed an hour later at Pont Rouge and waved to us as the train pulled out of the station. (I don’t think I could have taken their “excitement” for the full 4 hour journey to Montreal!)

School outing to Pont Royal
School outing to Pont Rouge

Having a few hours in Montreal before the departure of the train to Vancouver, I hopped on the Metro to Place Bonaventure and St Laurent to see some of the historical sites around “Vieux Carre” – the old city. The Basilique Notre Dame is one of the most splendid churches in North America and dates back to 1829.

Basilique de Notre Dame, Montreal
Basilique Notre Dame, Montreal

It was lovely walking down the narrow streets of the old city as artists displayed their works for the many tourists arriving by bus. Alas it was time to head back to the train station, a large, beautiful complex of shops and restaurants – very spacious and bright, much in contrast to some of the train stations I had seen.

VIA Train Station, Montreal
VIA Train Station, Montreal

As the train pulled out of the station I headed for the lounge car while the porter was preparing our sleeping car for the night. In the lounge car I sat next to an elderly Australian couple in the corner who chatted about their experiences aboard the train. When the waiter came by to take their order, he said “Madame, this is a bar car and I’m not allowed to serve anyone under age”! She chuckled, as she was at least 50 years on the far side of the age limit.

Sunset over Lake Huron
Sunset over Lake Huron

After a night of rolling through the forests of southern Ontario and along the shore of Lake Huron, we stopped in the small mining town of Sudbury the next morning as the train crew completed the switching of cars added from Toronto for the trip west to Winnipeg. As I sat in the early morning sunshine on an old wooden bench beside the station, the soft, haunting strains of a guitar reached my ear. As I looked around I saw a young man picking away, oblivious to the din of noise around him. I was struck by the plaintive quality of his music, and although I couldn’t make out the words he mouthed, somehow I knew they were very personal and yet universal at the same time. At that moment, the great Canadian folksinger Gordon Lightfoot appeared in my mind, for I thought that this time and place would surely inspire one of his songs – perhaps “Waiting in the Sun in Sudbury” Back aboard the train we rumbled along the rocky shore of Lake Superior as the sun began its flight toward the western horizon. The lake seemed to stretch far beyond the southern horizon and hundreds of small emerald green islands dotted the shore. As I enjoyed dinner in the dining car we were treated to a gorgeous sunset of a thousand shades of orange and red, casting long, brilliant streams of golden light across the surface of the lake.

Lake Superior sunset
Lake Superior sunset

It was such a beautiful sight as the train rolled on into the night for its rendezvous with the prairies the next morning.

Around mid-day we arrived in Winnipeg amid a heavy thunderstorm, which was in stark contrast to the dry, dusty landscape just 2 weeks earlier on our eastbound journey. As we made our way across the perfectly flat terrain, a steady rain soaked the earth and followed us well into Saskatchewan. That evening, in the dining car, I was seated with an elderly couple from Edmonton who spoke not a word all through dinner, and an old native man who had just one tooth and really thick black rimmed eyeglasses which seemed to be of no use to him as he couldn’t read the menu! So I ended up reading it to him, item by item, including the prices. They were not my most charming dinner companions, but one can’t necessarily choose who you get seated with in the dining car. At least I did enjoy the delicious plate of fresh Northern Pike grilled in a thyme and rosemary sauce. Along with an ice cold Kokanee beer the dinner was superb. As my luck would have it, I got seated with my dinner companions again for breakfast the next morning, and as our train rolled into Alberta, the snow-capped Canadian Rockies slowly rose on the western horizon. Later in the day I began hearing a rumor flying around among the passengers that we would be stopping in Calgary due to a massive derailment in the mountains near Revelstoke, BC. So I took advantage of the time in Calgary and walked around the downtown, visiting the Calgary Tower for an absolutely spectacular view of the snow covered Rockies shining in the brilliant morning sunshine.

View of Calgary
View of Calgary

On the way back to the train station I followed a lovely path along the Bow River that extended all the way from downtown to the very edge of the city. Being Sunday morning it was a very quiet and peaceful walk. Back at the train station we were loaded on to seven buses that would take us over the mountains to Kamloops, British Columbia where we would again board a train for the final leg of the journey to Vancouver. Ironically, as I was boarding one of the Greyhound buses, it had a sign for New York City! I had to wonder if it had actually travelled all the way to Calgary? Our bus trip through the Canadian Rockies was under brilliant skies which highlighted the rugged snow covered peaks in a stunning show of nature. Along the way we were fortunate to see lots of wildlife, including elk, deer, and bear, as well as beautiful expanses of magnificent Spruce and Fir forest. We stopped at the summit of Kicking Horse Pass to view the famous “Spiral Tunnel” that our train had passed through two weeks earlier. It was truly a very unique railroad engineering feat in the world.

Kicking Horse Pass, British Columbia
Kicking Horse Pass, British Columbia
Spiral Tunnel at Kicking Horse Pass
Spiral Tunnel at Kicking Horse Pass

Later we made a stop for lunch at the Glacier Park Lodge atop the summit of Rogers Pass, where large areas of last winter’s snow remained on the ground. Surrounding the lodge were several huge avalanches from the past winter. Leaving Rogers Pass we had spectacular views of Kicking Horse Canyon as we made our way toward Revelstoke. At last we arrived in Kamloops as evening fell upon us, and there was a train waiting to take us to Vancouver.

The waiting train
The waiting train

Before the train departed Kamloops, I stood on the open platform between two cars and watched a huge 100 car freight train thunder past on the adjacent track. It was both humbling and yet thrilling, to experience the rush of wind and shaking of the earth from the massive train passing less than 3 feet from me at 60 mph – what a rush! As our train pulled out of Kamloops that night, I settled into my sleeper and listened to the soft rhythm of the rails that easily lulled me to sleep.

Early the next morning I arrived back in Vancouver, along with a notebook full of wonderful memories and scores of photos that would stay with me forever. Canada is a fascinating country with its own history and unique culture, despite often being considered just a northern extension of the US. Living in Canada for three years allowed me to appreciate its uniqueness!

On a final note: from May 6, 1981 to May 25th, I travelled a total of 8743 miles across Canada on the Canadian Railways, and enjoyed every minute of the journey!

Me on the Plains of Abraham in Quebec City
Me on the Plains of Abraham in Quebec City

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