There we were, on route to the Yukon!

From Jasper, we slept at a mix of campsites, free spots and good old Walmart carparks. We were both surprised and irritated to run into an issue with the van – causing a stopover at the mechanics. They found an odd piece of metal clanging about unattached in the engine, which they removed and couldn’t tell us what it belonged to. They blamed that and a need for a wheel alignment and a “good oiling” for the unsettling noise the van was making. The noise stopped, thank goodness.

Originally, we had nicknamed her “Fwagon” – short for “Frog Wagon”. Frog is one of my many nicknames and we stayed at a campsite in BC called Frog Falls, so it felt fitting. When we experienced drama, we interchangeably changed the meaning of the F to “Fucking”. With love, of course!

Along the way, we did what every self-respecting road-tripper does: we took customary photos, we popped into book stores, cafes and breweries, and when night fell, we watched movies on my laptop powered by a heavy duty portable charger and a hard drive stocked with films. We used drop toilets here and there, pissed outside in the cold and stockpiled dirty laundry.

A few days would pass and we would ‘treat ourselves’ by stopping at a Recreational centre to utilise the facilities, pool and saunas. Fueled by cold brew coffees and an endless supply of Tim Horten Timbits, we collected hardy foods to keep in our esky or paid the price of convenience for a hassle-free lunch of subway sandwiches. It was simple, as much as it was magical.

The Yukon was everything we imagined and more. The beauty, the ruggedness, the endless kilometres of nature and stillness. We ventured without reception or wifi, singing our new-found trusty mantra “on the road again” every morning as the van’s engine spluttered into life. We immersed ourselves into a cozy routine of vigorous hikes, fire-lit reading and spending every waking moment in the wilderness. We dealt with the supersized mosquitos, never got used to the ever-present midnight sun (famous in the Yukon) and carried bear spray religiously.

On the way up North, we took a detour to the tiny village of Mayo. Mayo is based along the Silver Trail and the Stewart River and has a population of approximately 200 people. A friend was fighting wildfires and living in a tent-like shack just outside of town. We stayed in a nearby campsite and spent the evening catching up with her and her colleagues, ironically, drinking beers around a blazing inferno of a fire. She indulged us with local stories – a solo young person had graduated high school recently, and the whole town had showed up to support them!

I was set on the “Dempster Highway”, which is an unpaved road that starts near Dawson City and heads North to Inuvik in the Northwest Territories. We knew we were short on time and that the Fwagon was ill-equipped, so we made the decision to travel on it only a small distance to Tombstone Territorial Park. We made it to Tombstone Territorial Park with no issues, and spent four days hiking, appreciating the wildlife (there was a huge beaver dam!) and taking in the gorgeous scenery.

Dawson City prompted us to enjoy a Sour Toe Cocktail – as I downed my Whiskey with the mummified human toe, it fell from the bottom of the glass and hit me in the mouth. “That’s what I call a toe slap!” the aptly named Captain and keeper of the toes squealed. We received a certificate for our efforts, confirming the fact that we were far from squeamish and easily indulged by a touristy activity.

Alaska was next on the list. Upon spending a week in Dawson City total (and falling in love with it), we had to decide whether to stay in the Yukon or ‘pop by’ Alaska. The journey to Alaska would mean encountering The Top of the World Highway – something my partner dreaded (and I was pushing).

We ended up doing it, and only once did I forcefully pull over to the side and reconsider. “Do you want to do this, or not? Tell me right now. We are about to go over the border!”. I was pissed with the prospect of turning around. But I was also sick of looking over and seeing him clutching onto the seat, eyes straight ahead, as he faced the cliff-side turns and never-ending climbing road. “No, lets just do it, going back will mean going through all that again”.

We made it. The road was rough and full of potholes as we ventured into Chicken, Alaska. A tiny village consisting of a skeleton crew of inhabitants. We stopped in the ‘town centre’, three shops lined up: a gift shop, a pub and a café. We strode in, exhausted, and promptly sat down for a beer. Chicken made it all worth it. We fucking loved it. We ended up sleeping in the carpark around the back, getting hammered in the bar and meeting a couple who we would spend the next few days with upon aligning our routes.

The bar boasted a parade of underwear dancing on the ceiling – it was pre-season, but we were told that they typically use a canon-like device in the summertime to blow the panties directly off a lady’s ass. We met a local man who dredged for gold, who drunkenly agreed for us to join him the following day. As luck would have it, the next day greeted us with moody weather. As we joined our new couple-friends for brekky, he surprisingly rocked up to extend an invitation to tag along “next time”.

From there we looped from Tok, Alaska back through to the Yukon. We did some long stretches of driving, feeling anxious about getting back on time. We stopped here and there, for a quick look-see or to snap a photo, or to try a ‘best in town’ delicacy. Otherwise, we were full-steam ahead! The Fwagon did play up once more, having a tantrum on a long stretch of highway. Following a stressful tow (note: always get road-side assistance – thanks BCAA!), a local mechanic gave us the go-ahead to keep moving.

We stayed in Squamish BC, in an actual motel, and relished the chance to have a proper shower, electricity and a chance to recuperate. If we had more time, we would have loved to stay in Squamish longer, it was absolutely gorgeous and full of activity. Alas, we were on a time-crunch, and were soon boarding a ferry from Horseshoe Bay to Nanaimo.

It was such a wonderful trip, and it solidified the Yukon as a must-see destination in Canada. We were both a little miserable to return to “normalcy” – if you can call working on a gorgeous fishing resort in the middle of nowhere normal. However, once we had made it through the last tedious one-hour journey of pothole-filled dirt road to reach our workplace, we were beyond ready to stay put for awhile!