The rush is on

The beginning of the Alaska (ALCAN) Highway, in Dawson Creek, BC.

The beginning of the Alaska (ALCAN) Highway, in Dawson Creek, BC.

At Mile Marker 91 on the Alaska (ALCAN) Highway, we ground to a stop in a line of trucks. After sitting for 30 minutes the trucker behind us got out and peed on his tire. Another fifteen minutes and I got my sketchbook out. “A motorcyclist is lying across the road. We’re not going anywhere,” the trucker called to me.

Signs warned us about bison, moose, and elk, but not about horses frolicking in the road.

Signs warned us about bison, moose, and elk, but not about horses frolicking in the road.

“Is there a bypass?” I asked. “Yeah, but it’ll take you hours,” he said. “Might as well just wait.”

Chatting while the Alaska Highway was closed due to an accident.

Chatting while the Alaska Highway was closed due to an accident.

So we stood on the road and shot the breeze. My new friend was originally from Vancouver, had come to British Columbia to plant trees, broke his back in a fall, went back to Vancouver to paint houses, and then moved up to northern BC to deliver water to logging camps and gas rigs.

A lodgepole pine forest seeming to resurrect itself after a wildfire.

A lodgepole pine forest seeming to resurrect itself after a wildfire.

“I’m set to make $300,000 this year,” he told me. While we were talking, a fireball exploded over the treetops.

“What was that?” I exclaimed.

“Oh, that’s just gas,” he answered, totally unmoved. “There’s gas wells everywhere up here. It goes by pipeline to Edmonton and from there to Port Rupert and then Malaysia.” He spoke in a lyrical western Canadian accent and, yes, he did punctuate his speech with “egh.”

The foothills of the Rockies are Lodgepole pines and aspens. It was my turn to sit in the back seat, so I painted them.

The foothills of the Rockies are Lodgepole pines and aspens. It was my turn to sit in the back seat, so I painted them.

For the billions of dollars in natural resources coming out of this area, there’s not much sign of prosperity on the ground. A lot of people live in mobile homes, here where the temperature has dropped to −51.7° C. But there are an equal number of neat frame houses and a plethora of wonderful pickup trucks.

I particularly like the rhythm of the aspens.

I particularly like the rhythm of the aspens.

This place has a character totally its own. Stunted willows and fireweed grow in the grassy ditches.  An occasional hemlock, spruce or fir breaks the pattern, but mostly it’s been lodgepole pines and aspens. The mountains never achieve the towering heights of the Rockies from Denver to Banff, but it’s no less awe-inspiring, even in a driving rain. As we moved west, the water started acquiring that copper-oxide green that so famously stains Lake Louise in Banff National Park.

Lake Muncho is every bit as lovely as Lake Louise, even in the rain.

Lake Muncho is every bit as lovely as Lake Louise, even in the rain.

We expected to arrive at Liard River at about 6 PM. The second-largest hot springs in Canada are here. Due to road conditions, we actually arrived after 10 PM. It turns out that the hot springs are open 24 hours.

After traveling through some genuinely rotten roads in the rain, we had to run a gauntlet of grazing bison.

After traveling through some genuinely rotten roads in the rain, we had to run a gauntlet of grazing bison.

It never grows fully dark this far north, but there are absolutely no lights from civilization. We ventured down through the gloaming. A long boardwalk led through bogs and running water. My love of hot springs warred with my fear of grizzly bears, but we prevailed and spent a lovely hour warming our joints in a misty, dark corner of the forest, accompanied by a few other hardy souls. It was midnight when we started back to our lodge.

At times the road got pretty iffy.

At times the road got pretty iffy.

On the boardwalk, we were overtaken by a ranger. He offered us a ride. I stood on the back of his cart, overlooking the cab. Periodically he would stop and shine a light into the boggy mist. “What will you do if you see a bear?” I asked.

The Toad River also has that copper-oxide blue-green color.

The Toad River also has that copper-oxide blue-green color.

“Shoot over his head and scare him away,” he answered. And to think there are people who go to Disney for entertainment.

Carol Douglas

About Carol Douglas

Carol L. Douglas is a painter who lives, works and teaches in Rockport, ME. Her annual workshop will again be held on the Schoodic Peninsula in beautiful Acadia National Park, from August 6-11, 2017. Visit www.watch-me-paint.com/ for more information.