Each summer, the Fairbanks Daily News-Miner prints a Visitors’ Guide that claims, among other things, that Alaska’s Dalton Highway bridge is the “only highway crossing over the Yukon River.”
So, on Day 3 as we left the environs of Whitehorse on the Alaska Highway, we crossed the Yukon River. I guess the Alaska Highway’s bridge over the Yukon isn’t a “highway crossing.”
The sky gradually cleared as we made our way out of the Whitehorse area, and after a quick stop for gas — again, 69.9¢ per litre, apparently the best price in the Territory — we headed for Watson Lake. According to The Milepost there was to be about forty miles of travel in British Columbia ahead of us this day, even though the “official” B.C.-Yukon border was just beyond Watson Lake. Given that the stretch ahead wasn’t “officially” in B.C., I expected to have to watch carefully for evidence that we had crossed the border, which is precisely at 60° North latitude.
The evidence was subtle and easily missed: a huge billboard reading, “Super, Natural British Columbia Welcomes You.” Travelers less eagle-eyed than yours truly might have missed it.
Apparently the “unofficial” aspect of the crossing lies in the fact that highway authorities in the Yukon Territory are responsible for maintenance and signage along that stretch of highway. Yukon-style highway markers still designated the road as Route 1, while British Columbia calls the Alaska Highway Route 97.
Shortly after returning to the Yukon Territory (this crossing, too, was marked in the same subtle manner as the previous one), the highway climbs to an unmarked crossing of the Continental Divide. We had decided to stop here for lunch and gas, at a place called Walker’s Continental Divide. Mr. Walker was manning the store counter and waiting tables, while Mrs. Walker cooked in the kitchen. We ordered sandwiches, signed the spiral notebook that served as a guest register, and enjoyed a break from driving.
When we finally reached Watson Lake, we passed that town’s well-publicized signpost forest, and I was surprised to see just how huge it is. Our lodgings for the night were large and convenient to parking, and there was a restaurant on the premises. We and the cats settled in just fine, and in the morning it was Furrari who gave us trouble by hiding under a bed. Taz, however, continued to growl and squirm at the prospect of being put into his carrier.
