As you head north from Orlando toward the Arctic you notice many changes. The daylight gets longer, and the temperature cooler. The roads get narrower and less congested. And the road kill changes dramatically. Departing our place in Florida we had to dodge the remains of what appeared to have been about a four-foot alligator. As you head up through the southern states armadillos become the predominant road splatter. Enter the Midwest and The Plains and deer become the apparent obstacle of choice.
Unofficial Roadkill Roadmap
But if you get far enough north, the game changes. The local stock becomes large enough that the car often ends up on the losing end of physics. We didn’t see any dead moose or bison road kill (although that does happen,) but we did encounter many roadside vehicles that did not survive an encounter with these massive animals. (Not so fun fact – you are far more likely to perish in one of these collisions than to be killed by a bear.)
Member of the Liard River herd of Wood Bison
As we left Liard Hot Springs and headed toward Whitehorse we came upon a scene that suggested one of these animal encounters. Halfway up a steep roadcut, resting upside down between some pine trees was a mini-van. A road crew was at the base of the cliff, looking up and scratching their heads – apparently tasked with recovering the vehicle from its precarious perch. Exactly what happened was not clear, but it seemed likely that the vehicle was going too fast, had to dodge either an animal or a pothole, lost control, and launched itself into the scenery. The fate of the passengers was unknown. It was a solemn reminder that we were not just out for a casual Sunday drive.
Our next stop was Watson Lake, a small community of about 800 people, and home to one of the most famous stops along the AlCan – the Sign Post Forest. Visitors from all over the world stop here to add signs to the ever-growing collection. The visitor’s center even provides loaner hammers and nails. We weren’t prepared with a special sign, but we did contribute one of our Wanderingdillos stickers to the collection. You can learn more about the Sign Post Forest, Below the Line.
We also enjoyed lunch at the only option in town – a small bistro in the town rec center. Where else can you enjoy a nice pulled pork sandwich while watching curling practice?
Teslin River at Johnson's Crossing
Our next fuel stop was at the Yukon Motel in Teslin. Guess who was tanking up on the other side of the fuel island. Stacy and Brenda – our mother-daughter friends from the Cinnamon Bun place. It turns out that they had been traveling ahead of us and were the first people to come upon our mystery van nestled amongst the trees halfway up the road cut. Fortunately, the daughter is an EMT and was able to help the driver and passenger, both of whom suffered only minor injuries. When she asked the driver what had happened, he could only offer “I wish I knew!”
The van owners also had dogs, who were thankfully unharmed. Apparently, the only real casualty, other than the van, was the bag of dog food that exploded in the tumble up the hill and spewed doggy nuggets all over the hillside. This in turn caught the attention of the local bear population which responded in force. Unfortunately, the description of the ensuing mayhem was cut short – our gas tanks were full. The line long. It was time to move on.
We didn’t get far at all when we noticed folks coming in the opposite direction waving and pointing. A pickup truck flagged us down. Distracted by the tales of Stacy and Brenda I had neglected to put the gas cap back on, and fuel was running down the side of the Jeep. Normally your fuel wouldn’t come back out of the filler, but when you are bouncing down the road like an over-caffeinated chihuahua unexpected things happen. We quickly capped up to keep the liquid gold in, and the extreme dust out, and got back underway.
It occurred to us that both of our recent minor mishaps were caused by distractions from our travel buddies Stacy and Brenda. We vowed that if we ran into them again, we would avoid any conversation. No distractions. We would be stopping for a few days in Whitehorse, so it was unlikely that our paths would cross again.
Unlikely. But on the AlCan the unlikely is entirely possible…
Camp at Squanga Lake
Below the Line
The Sign Post Forest
The Sign Post Forest was started in 1942 by Carl K. Linley of Danville, Illinois. Carl was a US Army soldier in Company D, 341st Engineers, working on the construction of the Alaska Highway. As the story goes, Carl accidentally busted up his foot and was taken to the company aid station in Watson Lake where he spent several weeks recovering. Unable to do much heavy work, the CO asked Carl to repair a road sign that had been damaged by a bulldozer. It was one of those posts with arrow signs showing the distance to other cities. Carl, suffering a touch of homesickness, decided to add his own sign pointing to his hometown of Danville, Illinois. A tradition was born.
That one sign would grow to become one of the most visited attractions along the Alaska Highway. How many signs are there? It is impossible to tell for sure, and new signs are added every day, but the most recent estimate is over 100,000 signs from all over the world. So, thank you Lonely Carl for starting this AlCan tradition!
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