Days 36 & 37 (June 19 & 20). The Campbell Highway

From: Watson Lake, YT

To: Faro, YT, and Carmacks, YT

Miles today: 277, 121

Total miles: 8734

In planning this trip, the Campbell Highway –  all the through roads up here have their own names –  was just a means of getting from Watson Lake to Carmacks (and then Dawson) without going through the city of Whitehorse, which I intend to visit on my way back from Alaska.  But you learn stuff as you go. It turns out the Campbell Highway was built in the 1960’s to connect the town of Carmacks to some new lead and zinc mines near the present town of Faro. Faro, named for the card game, was created at that time to house people associated with the open pit mines; it is down in a river valley and so protected from the wind, and it doesn’t get very much snow (though it is bitterly cold in winter, of course). At one time the town had over 2000 permanent residents.  Most of the ore was hauled out in trucks to the Dawson area and processed there, and this left the road very rough.  But metal prices fell in the 1980’s. This, coupled with some other issues, led to the end of the mines; they closed for good in the early 1990’s.  Faro is still there, although it only has about 400 permanent residents now.  The Campbell highway was extended south to Watson Lake, passing near the town of Ross River on its way. These are the two towns on the 362-mile highway.  The only two.  Both have gas, and one has a (one) motel and a (one) restaurant.  And by restaurant I mean a place where you can buy a meal.  This is remote country. 

The first 40 miles of the Campbell Highway out of Watson Lake were paved.  Then I ran into some pretty brutal construction that went on for ten or fifteen more miles.  I am talking about very soft dirt paths between enormous machines. 20 mph was too fast for this stuff. Finally past it, a bit more pavement, and then alternating stretches of gravel road and chip seal.  If the chip seal is dry, it is preferable; but when wet it really does get sloppy; it is like driving on soft wet clay. If the gravel is not too deep, it is much better when wet.  I did not get rained on much, but there were long stretches of chip seal that were not as fortunate.  I had to keep going; I was past the point of return in my mind.  The next 50 miles or so were an adventure.  After that – perhaps because the road dried out, or perhaps because no one ever came this way to mess up the road surface – things got better and I could move along at a brisker pace.  (In the 100-mile stretch between the end of the construction and about 30 miles from Ross River, I saw a total of two cars going the other way.) 

Eventually I got to the crossroad that Google Maps said to take to Ross River. (One really great thing about Google Maps is that it will still plot your GPS location on the best map it can produce, even when there is no cell service.)  Oddly, I thought, it was unmarked; no sign saying “This Way to Ross River.” I took it anyway, up and down some very steep hills (all unpaved of course), finally reaching the paved streets of Ross River. This, like almost all towns in Yukon, is primarily a Dene community.  I went to the hotel, and – it was boarded up.  I called the number (cell service in Ross River!), and it had been disconnected.  Oh well, Faro was “only” another 45 miles up the road.  Could I get some gas?  Yes I could – out of a giant cylindrical surface tank, with the proprietor (a Dene) living in a small shed behind it.  He gave me one of those “another white man lost in the wilderness” looks, but spoke English to me and sold me the gas. 

Once back on the Campbell Highway, I headed toward Faro – and came across a sign directing me to “Ross River.”  I checked Google Maps, and there was a faint line.  Apparently this was now the “official” route to the town, presumably much smoother and less up and down.  Still unpaved. Even though the sign implied that lodging was available there, I had been there and seen for myself and so kept going.  I had gas; it never gets dark here this time of year; so there was really no rush.  Nonetheless I was able to move the cycle down the constantly winding but smooth and firm road at about 50 mph.  (This road is wide enough for two cars to pass, but it is really a one-lane road, fairly strongly arched in the middle to encourage the rain to run off, so I rode right down the middle most of the time.  I would slow down or move right whenever I came up to a blind curve, but the low level of traffic helped me out.)

Lo and behold, the side road that takes you to Faro from the Campbell Highway was paved!  I cruised along the 6 miles and ended up at – as mentioned above – the only hotel and restaurant for 100 miles or more in either direction.  I unpacked, ate dinner, and had a beer with the bartender named Joe (who also doubled as the motel manager).  He was originally from Thunder Bay, but moved here in 1986, and likes it here.  He told me that the hotel in Ross River closed some time ago, and they closed the bar and liquor store at the same time.  (He said that the Dene were great folks when sober – they would always help you out, even if they carried a perpetual air of resentment that whites were here at all – but when they got drunk, “they put on a different hat” (his expression).  Alcoholism is a problem everywhere, and it is known to be more of a problem in extreme northern latitudes, especially in winter.  Closing the bar and liquor store were apparently an attempt to deal with these problems in Ross River, but the response of many was to drive to Faro to drink.  The unpaved, narrow roads and icy, sub-zero conditions being what they are, the return trips started to become fatal.  According to Joe, Ross River is now thinking about re-opening a liquor store and/or bar there as the lesser of two evils. 

The next day.  The road from Faro to Carmacks was paved the whole way – almost anticlimactic!  Though paved, the road is narrow with no shoulder and only rarely a guardrail.  It was from one such curve around the side of a mountain that I caught my first view of the Yukon River.  The Yukon is the third longest river system in North America, after the Mississippi and the Mackenzie.  It seems to be this beautiful shade of blue-green, and the water moves swiftly.  After a very scenic last few miles (the pictures do not really show the effects), the Campbell terminated by running into YT 2, now known as the Klondike Highway.  A mile or two to the south is the town of Carmacks, again a one-hotel town but right on the Yukon River 

Carmacks got its start in the early 1890’s when coal was discovered nearby. After mining coal for a while – it continued to be mined here for decades – they miners discovered something slightly more lucrative: gold.  This set off the Klondike Gold Rush, and in 1898 and 1899, the peak years, the town boomed.  Once the easy gold was played out – gold continues to be extracted here using industrial methods – the town survived as a stern-wheel paddleboat stop on the Yukon River between Whitehorse and Dawson.  There were several such towns; all the rest faded away with steamship traffic when the Klondike Highway was completed.  Carmacks survived because it was on the road as well as the river.

In the afternoon, I went to a building at the edge of town called the Tage Cho Hudan Interpretive Center.  There were lots of people milling about, both white and First Nation.  It turned out it was “Aboriginal Day” (I was told this by an “aboriginal,” so they seem ok with the term).  It was a big celebration, she said, and everyone was welcome. They certainly made me feel welcome.  I chatted with a number of them about all sorts of things, including the Arctic Ocean.  One woman told me she had only seen it frozen; she had never been there in summer.

I am beginning to appreciate that Canada needs towns like Carmacks, Faro, and Watson Lake. Things happen up here and bases of operations are required to address them.  Many of the people in the restaurant with me tonight wore the uniforms of firefighters.  One of them told me they do sometimes sleep in tents when they are in extra remote regions, but it is much easier to just spend the night in one of these towns, where supplies and equipment can be driven in on tractor trailers.  Their room and board is no doubt paid for by the Canadian government.  The government also apparently helps pay the salaries of some of the people who work in the hotels and restaurants, or at least makes visa situations easier for foreigners who take jobs here.  Tourists like me are therefore especially welcome because we help subsidize the infrastructure. In return, we also get to sleep in hotels and eat in restaurants in the remote Yukon wilderness!

OK, here are a few pictures from the Campbell Highway and Carmacks.  My little camera doesn’t really do justice to pictures where there is bright sky above and dark land below.  Some of the scenery was extraordinarily beautiful, even by wilderness standards.

Young moose on the Campbell Highway

Yukon River

Mountain view