The Klondike Highway – Whitehorse to Dawson

Rosie and The Operator are driving 533km on the Klondike Highway from Whitehorse to Dawson City.   We will be travelling the overland route of the original gold rush stampeders, crisscrossing the mighty Yukon River as we go and experiencing this beautiful empty wilderness which is The Yukon province firsthand.

As Rosie said yesterday, The Yukon is one single province in Canada and is twice the land mass size of New Zealand!  Only 10,000 hardy people live out in these remote wilds, mostly clustered around the small towns that we will be passing through during our journey. Rosie and The Operator are off and have plenty of miles to cover! Our Yukon road trip is underway!

Its dawn as we leave Whitehorse at 0730am, the sky is streaked with red, orange and the beautiful blue of the night sky still holds out as it gives way to the daylight. The Whitehorse sculpture is the perfect place to start and looks magnificent sitting on its hilltop overlooking the town as we prepare to leave. This rearing, wild looking horse is made out of donated scrap metal from the people of the Yukon.  Not only is it a representation of the towns name, but of the people who have helped shape it.

The Klondike Highway was first officially opened in 1953 and the road follows the course of the Yukon River, which for 80 years prior was the main route between Whitehorse and Dawson City.  In 1889 at the beginning of the Klondike Gold Rush it took 40 hours by paddle steamer to get between the towns and 4 days on the overland tracks.  In 2019 it will take Rosie and The Operator 8 hours, including a few photo stops on the way.

The Klondike Highway starts out with a nice smooth tarmac surface with the yellows and oranges of the autumn trees looking spectacular on the roadside, back lit by the rising sun, dotted amongst the green of the evergreen spruces as we cruise along at the speed limit of 90km.

The view is already so big, 180 degrees and to out to infinity, where small mountains the colour of pale bruises mark the horizon line. It’s a beautiful drive on a frosty morning, then, not long in, we bump down off the tarmac and onto an unsealed, smooth, fine gravel surface, the colour of clay.

Long straights dominated the drive, the shoulder less road had a cleared ten meter band of scrubby bush either side of the road that disappeared into the spruce forest which followed us all the way.   Signs telling us to beware of elk, moose, deer and bears were everywhere and led to cautious driving where Rosie had her eyes peeled for these elusive animals that we so wanted to see.  The margin of error for a darting animal from the forest through this narrow roadside margin onto the road wasn’t much at 90km.  On the side of the road was some of the biggest roadkill Rosie had ever seen!    The irony, over an hours drive in and we had only seen about another three cars.

Braeburn Lodge was our first stop at one and a half hours in.  This Roadhouse is home to the legendary ‘Biggest Cinnamon Buns Ever’ and Rosie was keen for a coffee and a sample. See the sign, the bear is sitting on a giant bun.  It must be true. This WAS going to be our breakfast stop.

Braeburn Lodge was pretty quiet at 0900 in the morning, we were the only ones there, the lights were on, a puff of smoke was coming from a wood fire inside the cafe and a dog was sitting on the porch as we stepped from the frigid morning chill into the toasty warm café that smelled so welcomingly of cinnamon and freshly brewed coffee.  Wow, this place is totally old school, old pipe formica table and chairs  and the huge, blazing log burner which looked like it may have been a boiler in another life. Last years 1600 km Whitehorse to Fairbanks dogsled checkpoint results were still written on the whiteboard by the door as this roadhouse is an official stop and recording station.

Unfortunately this impression was as welcoming as this Roadhouse got.  A bearded man was bustling around in the kitchen, I don’t think he heard us come in said Rosie. Good Morning Rosie called out in her cheery best. Bearded Man ignores us. I wonder if heard me said Rosie? A little louder this time Rosie calls out her greeting. Nothing. I think hes cooking his own breakfast said The Operator. Not to be daunted, he may be hard of hearing, Rosie greets him again…still no response or acknowledgement. Hes just a rude old bastard said The Operator, lets just make our coffee, its self service anyway, he will come to life when we walk out of her without paying seeing as he is ignoring us.

No said Rosie, he is just a lovely old man a little hard of hearing, he owns a café and makes enormous cinnamon buns that are world renowned, he cant be a crank.

Bearded man came out of the kitchen, sat down at a table and, and, and…..started eating his breakfast!   Still no acknowledgment that we are even in the room!  Now Rosie conceded he would have to be blind as well as deaf to not see us there…he was just being a…naughty so and so…(Rosie used alot worse descriptive word than that to describe Bearded Man in real time).

Good morning said Rosie, not quite so cheery herself this time….Bearded Man with a mouth full of bacon and eggs gestured that he was busy eating! Serious! Rosie saw red! I will pay for my coffee, and one cinnamon bun please, the quicker you are, the quicker you can carry on with your breakfast!

Well, he hung up his knife and fork did what we asked, barked out the amount we owed and never another word was spoken. Serious! Bearded Man of Braeburn Lodge….next time don’t put up your open sign until you are breakfasted and have had an adequate dose of caffeine in your system to be able to greet the world civilly.  Rosie would have given him two stars on Tripadvisor….if there was internet.

So, there we were sitting in the car with the Worlds Biggest Cinnamon Bun on Rosie’s lap.  We carried on driving with the smell of Christmas raising Rosie’s spirits and permeating the car, with Rosie breaking off chunks of said bun to dispense to The Operator whilst chowing down on it herself.

Wow, Grumpy Bearded Man sure could make a mean bun, it was delicious!  Soft white bread slathered in cinnamon and raisiny goodness with a hint of citrus said The Operator, and a delish icing on the top. Rosie was still busy stuffing her face when The Operated pointed to the roadside and slammed on the breaks….an elk was on the roadside, munching at the stubby undergrowth, as soon as she heard us coming she looked around, held her ground…Rosie has dropped her bun and is clamoring for her camera, all fingers and thumbs and icing on everything…then the elk sauntered off into the bush and Rosie only had a blurry shot taken within the whole three second exchange.

Damn, Hopefully we will have many more, safe animal encounters that Rosie will be prepared for.  As for the bun, we could only eat half, so we have left over deliciousness for tomorrow and a car that smelt like Christmas.

The Montague Roadhouse was built in 1902 and was a little further up the road. This now ruined log cabin was one of the 4 night stop overs for the overland Gold Transportation stagecoach from Dawson City to Whitehorse.

These coaches carried multiple chests of gold weighing 225kg each…these guys had no security guards with them and only carried a rifle for wild animals.  Their theory, these chests weighed so much, there was no fear of robbers, they wouldn’t get very far with that weight and where would they go,  there was only one road in and out of these parts.  Practical and logical if you ask Rosie.

The landscape is beautiful and the fall colours of the trees shedding leaves amongst the evergreens is magnificent.

Then we hit roadworks.  Literally in the middle of nowhere, is a stop go lady standing on a long stretch of lonely highway. She saw us coming and got out of her truck, picked up her stop sign to brandish it at us and pointed to the side of the road where we were to stop. She came over and greeted us and informed us we would need to wait about 15mins for a pilot vehicle. The road stretched on in front of us as straight as a die and we couldn’t see any evidence of road workers on that straight at all. We were the only car waiting and she stood at attention holding her stop sign 20 feet away, out of chatting distance, waiting for more traffic.  so we waited…..during the 15mins, five other cars backed up behind us.

A pilot car did arrive and led 4 cars from the opposite direction through, then, immediately turned around and guided us through about 7 kms of roadworks of which 3km was actively under minor construction.

Just before mid day we reach the small settlement of Carmacks, population 493.  Even though The Klondike Highway follows the Yukon River, this is the first time we have been able to see it properly. The Yukon is wide, sinuous and calm as it passes through this tidy town first founded in 1891 by George Carmacks who set up a trading post and a mine here after discovering coal and copper.  George was also one of the legendary three who were the first to discover gold in Dawson City in 1896.

There is still a trading post here today, which is a large general store full of everything you can ever think of.  It was nice to get out of the car and stretch our legs and have a look around.  The Operator topped the car up with gas, one of the golden rules of driving in these parts.  Fuel stops are few and far between so top up whenever you can as it is known that some stations themselves may have run out of gas.

The iron bridges that cross the Yukon were the last pieces to be added to The Klondike Highway in the 1960s to fully complete the road.  Before that, when the road officially opened in the 50s they used car ferries to barge cars across the rivers.

Five Finger Rapids is just up the road from Carmacks and was the first hurdle on the upper Yukon for those travelling by river. Many of the Goldrush Pioneers built and sailed their own rafts and boats on this watery journey and many lives were lost here at this point and boats wrecked after picking the wrong channel up these rapids. Four rock islands make five channels of swift, unpredictable currents and only the eastern (left side) is passable.

At its peak 88 stern wheeler paddle boats plied this length of river in the late 1890s during the gold rush years between Whitehorse and Dawson City.  It might have been the quickest way to get between the towns, but it was also the most expensive, hence why many braved it on their own.

For the paddle ships to get through it all depended on what time of the year it was and how high the water was. In Summer when the water was high due to snow melt, the rapids developed a two foot high shelf of rushing water and the boats needed to be winched through. During the fall and spring low water times these big queens of the river just sailed on through…during winter, there were no boats at all as the Yukon freezes solid!

Notice in Rosie’s pics above there are no trees on the bank across the river? Here they are, in this old photo, all chopped down and stacked riverside in one of many wood fuel dump stockpiles along the river for the paddle ships. This historical stack in the photo consists of 400 cords of wood. A paddle ship round trip from Dawson City to Whitehorse burnt 90-110 cords of wood.

This is one of three bridges spanning the river between Whitehorse and Dawson City. The landscape is so beautiful surrounding it!

Motoring along, The Operator did a double take at this road sign! Surely they do not use this road as a landing strip for planes?!  No, just behind two rows of trees running parallel with this road is a landing strip. Phew, we would have gotten a fright if a plane was coming into land as you were driving long. It would have seemed so close, I suppose that was the warning, you would still get a hell of a fright if a plane was pretty much at eye level with you in your car.  The question said The Operator, is why is there an expensive airstrip here?  We are in the middle of nowhere.  True mused Rosie, there are no houses or towns anywhere.

Now it’s Rosie’s turn to do a double take, Welcome to Moose Creek, population 4 and two dogs. This tiny café in the middle of nowhere is about an hours drive from Dawson City.  Sadly it was already locked up tight for the winter and there was no sign at all of any of the entire population, including dogs.

But you know Rosie, its a good time to stretch your legs and poke around and take photos. Moose Creek sure had a lot of log Mooses and an adorable dog kennel sporting a good rack of Moose horns…as did the old mandatory abandoned vehicle’s that seem to be a compulsory garden ornamentation in these parts.

Rosie is excited when we hit the outskirts of Dawson City. Creative signage is built into these big dumpings of gravel on the side of the road.

It seems odd said Rosie that they would attach the signs to these gravel dumps. After a couple of kms of driving these lines of gravel still line the roadside and stretch further back into the landscape. Then it clicked, you know what these gravel lines are, said The Operator, they are the tailings from the gold mining dredges. No way said Rosie, they stretch on forever, kilometers and kilometers of gravel tailings.

Wow, Rosie is amazed before we even hit town on how much earth was been dug over, sifted and displaced during the gold rush and the subsequent years. We cannot wait to learn more! And here we are, Welcome to Dawson City!

Driving into town, a little wearied after the days journey and our car the same colour as this one (but not so perfectly coated) from the road, Rosie cannot believe what this town looks like! It is so not what Rosie and The Operator expected at all, it is the epitome of a frontier town….still, to this day!  And we cannot wait to show you around!