It was during my drive from Fort Nelson to Liard Hot Springs that I first had the frightening sensation of being alone in a vast wilderness.
I’ve been in the forests of Upper Michigan, in natural places far from any city, but I’ve never had such a sense of being alone in a place that seemed so beautiful, but so remote.
At least in Upper Michigan, you know that hunters traverse the forests from time to time, but parts of this extended landscape are so far from civilization that it feels as if no person has ever trekked through them.
There is a vastness that feels like it could swallow me up without anyone noticing.
.
Much of the road was in pretty good condition, but when it would degrade to a gravelly mess, I’d have the irrational fear that I had gotten off on the wrong path and was driving deeper and deeper into the Yukon, where I would run out of fuel and never find my way out.
In those moments, I grew desperate for any sign of human life, even a scrap of garbage indicating that some other person had passed this way.
The rare vehicle that would come upon me was always driving faster than my motorhome, so would quickly pass and be out of sight.
Driving 40-45 mph, I happened upon two RVs traveling from 35-40 mph. A slightly disabled caravan, one was intermittently blowing blue-black exhaust, probably had an oil leak, and was driving with his two side steps still extended.
But, weary of feeling so alone on the road, I decided to slow down and stay with the hobbling duo. When they finally pulled into a service station, I continued on my own.
Overall, it was a beautiful, if sometimes precarious, drive. Through the Rockies, the scariest parts were 9% grades of pure gravel.
Going around a steep, blind, and gravel descent, I came upon a cluster of sheep along the roadway. For some reason, they like the steep, blind curves because it happened again about 50 miles down the road.
As the road started to straighten out and I knew I was getting closer to Liard Hot Springs, the scenic sights began to soothe me.
It only got prettier and prettier. Blue skies were a backdrop for ever changing mountain ranges, rushing rivers, and then perfectly still lakes.
A caravan of bison crossing the road made me laugh out loud at the novelty and beauty of experiencing a moment like this alone in the wildnerness.
***
I’ve only driven (a very slow) 190 miles, but am completely exhausted when I finally arrive at Liard Hot Springs.
I’ve pulled into the empty RV park late, so am grateful to see that one other motorhome is already camped here. (I hate sleeping in campgrounds all by myself!)
Opting for a site right in the corner, I am elated to have a spot bordered by flowers and forest.
Butterflies are flying around the purple and yellow flowers, dandelions are blowing in the air, and with the extended daylight, I decide to spend the evening outside.
I am pulling out my chair when I see a junky old RV drive into the campground. Watching the jalopy out of the corner of my eye, I see he has passed all of the RV sites and is making a bee line for me.
Please don’t be coming over here.
He parks right behind my motorhome. I reluctantly glance up to meet the enthusiastic stare of the scraggly guy yelling at me, “Hey! Come on! Let’s go get in the hot tub!”
Ugh. This is not happening.
Trying to figure out an unoffensive way to reject his pleas for evening companionship, I reply, “Uh, I’m really tired. That was a really stressful drive.”
“It wasn’t that bad! Well then a hot tub is just what you need! Come on!” He gestures for me to climb into his motorhome for the ride over.
At a loss for a more effective rejection method, I try my same refusal, “I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m really tired.”
Disappointed, he finally relents. I am relieved, but unnerved that I’ve not seen the last of him.
My campsite here at Liard Hot Springs is actually one of the prettiest I’ve had, so if I can remain unmolested by friendly neighbors, will plan to stay here to read and rest for a couple of days.
Next stop will be Watson Lake (about 135 miles), then onto Whitehorse (270 miles, but there isn’t any place to stop before then).
With a population of 25,000, Whitehorse is the biggest city in the Yukon and will be a good place to rest and restock before heading up toward the Dempster Highway…
***
Here are few more shots from today’s drive. The lack of any other cars does make for pretty pictures!
12 Comments
Glad you turned down the hot tub invitation Jennifer! The photos are just fabulous. I can only imagine how the air smells and how the breezes feel. Be safe…..enjoy…..God’s speed.
Judy
What a beautiful journey!
Enjoy, Enjoy, Enjoy!
Your strength and determination is incredible.
Thanks for sharing!
Why do I keep hearing Barry White music in my head while reading your hot tub horror story?
To heck with the hot tub. Given the usual standards of cleanliness, those things are like slipping down into pee soup. But don’t let the neighbors keep you from trying out the hot SPRINGS.
There’s a nice boardwalk to them from the road. They are very hot where they come out, but you can find a place in the river that is anywhere from cold to tepid to just short of boiling.
You’ll find a spot that is just right. And the hotel across the highway is a good place to have breakfast.
Bob
beautiful pics!!
talk about white knuckles… there was one time i drove a rust-free sports car i bought in a small northern california town through some back roads on my way to i-80; up, down and around the rockies, no gardrail, barely enough room for two vehicles, gravel all over the place, the sun was setting… i can only imagine what it would be like to throw animals and a larger vehicle into the mix as well.
although it sounds like you already are, i just have to say it anyway – drive safe!
Simply amazing.
I am just catching up on your journey. Breathtaking photos! I’m off to read more . . .
“Slow down and enjoy life. It’s not only the scenery you miss by going to fast – you also miss the sense of where you are going and why.”
<3
Now that you have actually arrived in the Big Empty – and in record time, I might add – it might be appropriate to mention another threat to sanity up yonder.
I refer to the endless Northern Light. No, not the Northern Lights, which are lovely, and occasionally visible in the night sky, which you can expect to see again…o, say in late September.
I speak of the unrelenting light of day, which lapses merely into a fitful sort of twilight around 2 AM. It is remorseless. O, it parades around plain and bluff-spoken, wearing jeans, T shirt, and even a ball cap backwards, looking perfectly normal, if a little bedraggled. Just another long afternoon, right? Hey, I can’t go to bed if it’s still broad day, right?
And even if you do, there’s still no sleep. The insidious light slips in through cracks in the blinds and vent covers, piercing your burning eyeballs. It’s like trying to sleep with a flashlight in your face. All the world is red.
Very soon you lose all sense of time. Lapse into a listless fug of semi-consciousness. Like someone who has driven for 20 hours…which, by golly, you have. Son of a gun.
You have to have your sleep. There is no substitute for it. In the end I had to buy a sleep mask to simulate nightfall. It is all that saved me from howling at the absent moon and running naked off into the bush to find it.
There’s something similar that sometimes happens back in hot Texas, when people forget to drink enough water, because they are not really doing anything, right? So over a period of days they get dehydrated, and eventually it screws up their blood chemistry, and then they surprise their friends by passing out in mid-sentence. Someone has to call EMS, and there’s a lot of fuss, when all they really needed was about a gallon of tap water.
So be sure to get your normal quota of sleep. Sleep is a reboot of the brain and spirit. It is the balm of Gilead. Accept no substitute.
And if in spite of everything you still find you feel a little crazy, give yourself some latitude. About 20 degrees ought to do it.
Remember, the earth is tilted. Not you.
Bob, relaxing in the endless days of soccer.
“Please don’t be coming over here.” Oh that is so funny to read for I have caught myself saying those very words I don’t know how many times.
Wonderful pictures of some beautiful country. I am enjoy the ride.
Fantastic pictures!!! Envy you the freedom. Love to see this part of our world through your eyes. Ed
Beautiful pictures! Incredible scenery. Thanks for sharing. Good luck avoiding Grizzly Adams!!! Hoot!
“Please don’t be coming over here.” Oh, how I relate.
My version is: “No no no no no ohhhh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Usually said aloud, very quietly. I always hope it’s someone I’d actually want to talk to, but, tragically, it never is. Why is that, anyway? Maybe I just have the wrong look…