RV ALASKA - Battling Frost Heaves on the Alaska Highway

When planning our route to Alaksa, I had discounted the Top of the World Highway – even though I would have loved to visit Dawson City, Yukon, with its fascinating Gold Rush history.  I had read that the Highway wasn’t in the best of condition, and Alan and I were both concerned about damage to the truck and trailer.  Having already had two windshields replaced back home within the past year, we weren’t too anxious to go through that again.  Comments made by our friend, Bernie, convinced us to give the Top of the World a go.  He thought the road wasn’t that bad and better than some.  I shook off my reservations, and we decided we’d head north from Whitehorse on the Klondike Highway, travel through Dawson City and follow the Top of the World Highway on to Tok, Alaska.  If we did that on the way out, we could take the Alaska Highway on the way back, allowing us to cover new and different territory.  On the morning of our departure from Whitehorse, news that a wildfire burning to the north had closed the North Klondike Highway between Pelly and Stewart Crossing stopped us in our tracks.  The fire had effectively blocked our way to Dawson City.

Some time back, Alan and I had decided that the theme for this grand expedition (besides adventure, of course!) was going to be Flexibility with a capital F.  It was time for Plan B.  Again.

We remained on the Alaska Highway, and arrived in Alaska on June 28^th.  Between Whitehorse and Tok is the roughest stretch of the Highway – the infamous and dreaded section from Destruction Bay, Yukon, to Tok, Alaska.  The Alaska Highway is built on permafrost in many areas.  As a result, the road is particularly susceptible to frost heaves which appear as dips, swells (yup, just like on the water) and bone-jarring shifts in the pavement.  If you think you can do some real damage traveling on roads like that, you’re absolutely right.  At one point, while we were navigating that particularly bad section of highway, I asked Alan what our average speed had been for the day.  It was a whopping 39.5 miles per hour.

Experienced RVers who have traveled the Alaska Highway pretty much all offer the same advice: Take it slow, watch for the flags and pylons marking the frost heaves, watch for obvious dips and squiggly white and yellow lines on the road that indicate the presence of frost heaves and, did I mention, take it slow.  We’ll add our own piece of advice: Slow down when you see skid marks left by drivers who hit the brakes hard when they suddenly and unexpectedly came upon a frost heave.  There are a lot of them, and this tip works as well as the others - like a charm.   

In Destruction Bay, where we had stopped for gas, we watched the driver of a large fifth wheel cruise under the canopy covering the gas pumps at a high rate of speed.  Way too high, especially considering the fact that he raised an enormous amount of dust AND drove through the lane that said no RVs (it was just over 13’ high).  The guy barely missed decapitating his air conditioner and causing (more) damage to the canopy over the pumps.  He took off long before we had finished gassing up, but we did catch up to him pretty quickly.  He was stopped on the side of the road with the contents of what appeared to be his fresh water tank gushing across the highway.  Damn those frost heaves!  Luckily, he was traveling with another RV, so he had some support in resolving his problem. We dubbed him “Crazy Pants,” and I sure hope he’s not a faithful reader of this blog.

Date(s) – June 27^th – June 28th

Total Miles Traveled to Date – 8,291

Wildlife Sightings to Date – One grizzly sow with two cubs on the side of the road; 2 more rabbits, bringing our total to 3 (including one very fast bunny that just managed to cross the road safely); several small herds of bison with at least 2 dozen young calves;1 dead cow moose on the side of the road (just a placeholder until we see a live one!); one back end of a grizzly bear, 1 more black bear, bringing our total to 6; 9 deer (2 of them bucks with their racks covered in velvet); 9 mountain goats (including 3 tiny and adorable kids); 23 bighorn sheep; 62 elk (including 7 calves that hadn’t yet lost their spots and a number of bull elk with full racks covered in velvet); several small herds of pronghorn antelope (including 2 mamas with 3 newborn fawns between them); 7 eagles (including 2 fledglings); 3 great blue herons; dozens of American white pelicans; at least a half dozen families of adult geese with goslings; and several dozen ducks (with lots of little ducklings).

Highlight(s) – We spotted a black bear on the right side of the road ahead of us and pulled over to watch him (or her).  He or she soon crossed the road at a run, and stopped to look back at us from the other side.  Made our day!  The only other wildlife we saw over the course of those two days were a couple more rabbits.  The incredible scenery, however, was quite impressive, even if the wildlife was on vacation.

While services are scarce along the very lightly populated Alaska Highway, there are plenty of pull-offs, a few picnic spots and a number of large parking areas that are considered rest areas – some with pit or vault toilets.  I know that doesn’t sound like much of a highlight, but when you’re logging a lot of miles on any given day, safe places to stop for a food or bathroom break are always appreciated.

Lowlight(s) – Frost heaves.  Seriously.  You may think you’ve driven over some rough roads, but until you’ve driven mile after mile watching for frost heaves, holding on tight and riding them out like a bull rider in a rodeo, you haven’t earned your bragging rights.  Even the concrete Interstate highways in the Midwest with mile after mile of seams (ka-chunk, ka-chunk, ka-chunk) can’t hold a candle to frost heaves.

Campground(s) – Searching for another superlative here . . . Congdon Creek Campground on the shores of Kluane Lake (in Kluane National Park and Reserve) is another Yukon government campground, this one roughly halfway between Whitehorse and Tok.  We pulled in very early in the afternoon and were rewarded with a lakefront site.  We had a screened view of the lake through the trees out the big back window.  If we walked about 30 feet through those trees, we emerged on the gravel beach of Kluane Lake.  Omigosh!  The views of the lake and the mountains surrounding it were just stunning.  Again, we forfeited hookups to be cradled in nature’s beauty.  For us, that’s a fair tradeoff, although I know the same may not be true for everyone.  The time and effort we spend working out our water fill and dump station stops when we’re not planning to stay in RV parks (or those rare public campgrounds with full hookups) are nothing compared to the pleasure we get from camping in places like Congdon Creek.  Like our camping flag says, “My hotel has way more than five stars!”  And we only paid $20 Canadian dollars for the “penthouse suite.”

When we arrived in Tok, Alaska, Alan and I chose Tundra RV Park and Bar as our base camp.  The “and Bar” had me a bit skeptical about the kind of clientele that might frequent the park, but the park had good reviews, the price was right and the sites were wooded and nicely spaced.  (“Nicely spaced” seems to be in short supply among the RV parks along the Alaska Highway.)  It turned out to be a great choice for us; if there was a bar crowd, it was a very quiet one.  I don’t know whether the woman who ran the office was the manager or the owner, but she was friendly, helpful and accommodating.  We ended up staying four nights in Tok, paying $58.00 per night for the first two nights (water & electric only) and $66.00 per night for the next two (full hookups).  That’s certainly more than what we usually pay at public campgrounds (both in the States and Canada), but fair enough in relation to everything we’ve been pricing along the way.  We wouldn’t hesitate to return to Tundra RV Park (and Bar), and we’ll probably do just that when we’re ready to begin our journey back through Canada to the lower 48.

Observation(s) – Alan and I are definitely out of our element.  In the mountains we call home, black bears are common.  I’ve been carrying full strength bear spray with me on walks for years.  That being said, although it’s not unusual to see black bears in our yard or catch them on the trail cam, I’ve only actually seen a bear on my country road walks once.  I don’t know which one of us was more startled.  Being in grizzly country has taken our bear awareness to a whole new level.  I understand that our chances of being devoured by a grizzly are statistically insignificant.  But that’s definitely NOT how I want to go.  I will gladly turn around so that y’all can see the big yellow streak running down my back.  Yes, I’m a scaredy cat. When it comes to grizzly bears, that’s a problem.  The problem is that my fear is severely hampering our outdoor activities.  I’m not happy about it at all, and I have a feeling both Alan and I will have to work harder once we’re out of grizzly territory to get back to our prior level of health, weight and physical activity.  I’ve been conservative in every area of risk management throughout my life, an affliction of personality, no doubt, so my attitude won’t be changing anytime soon.  It’s not that Alan disagrees, either.  We’re taking the path of “better safe than sorry.”  I know this fear would not impact the behavior of everyone; in fact, we’ve witnessed parents allowing young children to bike or scooter their way through grizzly territory.  That’s just not us.   Do you know what really drove the point home?  The sign we saw at the entrance to Congdon Creek Campground.  (You can see it in the photos below.)  When tenters are only allowed to camp within an enclosure protected by an electric fence erected specifically to keep the bears out, the threat is real.  And I’m not going to be a statistic, no matter how slight the chance.

A road trip of thousands of miles from the States, through Canada and on into Alaska is not for the faint of heart.  While there’s plenty of magnificent scenery and entertaining wildlife, there’s not much else when you’re traveling through the remote areas of western Canada or parts of interior Alaska.  Cities, so familiar to those of us in the lower 48, are few and far between; populations in the small towns that do exist run in the hundreds (maybe), not the thousands.  Gas stations are far enough apart that travelers are advised to drive off the top half of their tanks and fill up whenever they can.  The gas stations are often part of a complex of highway services – maybe a motel or lodge, maybe an RV park (or what passes for what we know as an RV park), a slight chance of a small grocery store, restaurant or auto repair shop.  The gas pumps along the more remote stretches of highway are often throwbacks to another era, and you can watch the mechanical numbers spin around before you go inside to empty your pockets to pay the piper.  Even the small towns along the way may not have what you want or need, and you often have to make do or do without – the very reason many people traveling this long, lonely route pack extra tools, tires, gas and supplies.

Stepping out on a journey like this requires optimism, confidence, and a certain level of self-reliance and ingenuity – because help isn’t coming any time soon.  Most of the miles are devoid of human life and contact.  The more social among us – and the more fidgety – may have a difficult time with the emptiness of these great lands and the length of time it takes to pass through them.  The scenery is amazing, but the quiet can be unnerving.  Certainly, the void can be filled with audiobooks and music.  For us, though, in this particular situation, either would feel almost irreverent in the solitude.  There’s conversation, for sure.  Honestly, though, miles can pass without either one of us saying a word.  We’ve been roadtripping together for more than 40 years, comfortable in our own skins and with our relationship.  Alan and I agree that we probably couldn’t make this trip with anyone but each other.  More so than the planning, the extra supplies and a healthy dose of optimism, maybe the most important thing to pack is the right traveling companion.  Choose carefully.  You don’t want to end up in Destruction Bay, Yukon Territory (population 55), and realize you didn’t.

Pic(s) of the Day

Not what we wanted to see!

Definitely what we wanted to see!

Kluane Lake beach behind our campsite at Congdon Creek Campground, Yukon

When they fence in the tenters, it tends to make you look over your shoulder a lot in camp.

Services may be scarce, but the scenery is incredible!

Traffic wasn't always this steady - sometimes we'd go for miles without seeing anyone.

Special Message(s) – Congratulations to Irene and Tom as they celebrate their 35^th wedding anniversary!  Alan and I hope you two lovebirds have a wonderful time celebrating!

Note – Alan realized that he hadn’t received several of my blog posts from Follow.It.  When he checked his Spam folder, he found them there.  I don’t know what would have caused them to be diverted there, unless it’s the fact that I’m publishing posts at a faster rate than usual and they were flagged as spam.  Whatever the reason, if you think you may be missing posts, be sure to check your Spam folder, too.

Up Next – A layover in Tok to catch up on laundry, blog posts and personal business, then it’s on to Fairbanks.  Or, maybe not.