Our route is currently weaving around ticking the boxes of you must see this and must see that.  Skagway was the first of these.  The route down was through more awesome scenery but equally the town itself was of special interest.  We camped at Dyea a small hop round the peninsula from Skagway.  Back at the turn of the 20th century Dyea was a thriving town building up from ‘nothing’ to accommodate the gold rush influx of hopeful prospectors.  There, was the start of the infamous Chilcott Pass route over the mountains en route to Dawson City.  The alternative route, the White Way, was from Skagway through lower land but with thick mud and rivers.  Both routes were extremely hard.

The Canadian government, concerned about the influx of people resulting from the gold rush, and the impact this would have on local services (which were, err….what exactly?), insisted that each person crossing the border from the USA had to bring two years worth of supplies so that they could maintain themselves for the duration of their stay.  This led to enormous packs that took many, many trips up the frozen stairway of the Chilkoot Pass.  Entrepreneurs  made light of the ordeal by selling potential prospectors sacks that could help transport their belongings up the 1500 steps cut in ice and be used as a ‘sled’ to speedily descend back down the snowy slopes to retrieve the next load.  Unfortunately the sacks had to be durable which led to increase in the weight to be transported.  Other ingenious ideas also blossomed but many people and horses died failing to survive the extreme conditions.  One such place on the White Way is named Dead Horse to mark where hundreds if not thousands of horses died on the trail. But today, road and rail run easily over White Way, Dyea is simply vanished, and Skagway is a cruise ship destination with a main street where one can indeed buy a ton of souvenirs.

The second, 3,000 mile, service at Anchorage had unleashed the full potential of our Royal Enfield Himalayans, well, 5,000 rpm of it.  We’re now cruising at a staggering 55mph.  Andrew, at The Motorbike Shop, had chuckled that we’d barely notice the difference from the running in speeds. Later on when loosened up more, we find the engine will cruise at 60-65mph with a bit of chatter but no real distress. However, the in-helmet wind noise at that speed, with only a small screen, gets a bit painful. Not to worry!  One advantage of being so slow is we have plenty of time to take in the views and observe the wildlife.

The views have been staggering.  Riding east into the Yukon on the Alaskan Highway led to spectacular panoramic views as wide valleys opened up.  Flowers edged the road side, rivers meander across the valley floors.  The only thing missing was the sheep alluded to on the signpost.  We went from the snow topped mountains of Alaska into the more rolling, greener, countryside of the Yukon and the change was refreshing. A short leg in BC was even greener, and now we were seeing small scale agriculture, too. Continuing on from BC into Alberta the mountains had gone replaced by expanses of arable land.  Hay bales in one field a tractor ploughing the next. Initially they were quite small but soon spread to a considerable expanse. Nearing Edmonton, prairie farms started to appear, miles upon mile of crops, mostly mown hay, rape (canola) and barley, but also oats, wheat, linseed as we turned south. And every second field had a nodding donkey extracting oil.

The wildlife has been fabulous.  On this last stretch we’ve only seen one grizzly bear but plenty of black bears.  The black bears are smaller but we’re told, that just means they take longer to maul you to death.  One person is usually mauled every year, Dave in Edmonton tells us.  Erron, a local guy we met at Mosquito Creek campsite added that a doctor and his wife where killed walking out from Banff this spring.  Bears he was telling us, ‘can go from zero to 30 mph just like that.  They are soooo fast.’  Safety around bear strategies include bear bells to ring out ‘dinner time’ and playing dead.  ‘It’s great to practise,’ Larry, at Toad River campsite, laughed, ‘because you soon will be’.  Studies have suggested that the machos who carry a gun will be too slow to draw and aim it.  So it’s bear spray, the counter attack, or nothing.  The bison along the Alaskan highway were beautiful too, all recorded on GoPro video. A few deer have also skipped across the road ahead of us. Two bounds and they’re gone.  But the one that got away was probably the most spectacular.  It started as a small dot.  Our first thoughts were could it be a bear.  ‘No!  It’s flapping and it seems to be two small dots’, I exclaimed.  It could be something blowing in the wind but road tyre debris doesn’t flap and is too heavy to blow in the wind.  Slowly it revealed itself as two birds.  Ravens probably, there’s quite a few of them around.  Nooo!  One of them has a white head.  All too late to start the GoPro it flew up from it’s road kill meal swooping right across our path – a beautiful full wing spread of a bald eagle a few metres in front of us.

We have great respect for the wild life we are passing and pay heed to the warning signs around, one of which states, ‘Don’t stroke the hairy cows’. When riding down through Elk Island Provincial Park, Gid was calmly and slowly easing past a lone male bison which was on the other side of the road when it turned and gave chase.  From my vantage point some 15 – 20 metres behind it looked as though it got pretty close!!!  Seems like the lone males might be a bit less relaxed about traffic than the breeding herds we’d often passed earlier. Perhaps this guy had the hump ‘cos he’d missed out on the lady bison this year.

The Alaskan Highway, our initial route across Canada, was hastily started back in 1941, initiated by the American government .  The Americans were concerned about a possible Japanese invasion into Alaska following on from the Pearl Harbour bombing.  In conjunction with the Canadians the road was built in 15 months but the invasion never came.  It did however prove useful as a supply line to the Soviets. Having got to Summit Lake and admired the wildlife and views along the way we turned back because the route ahead to Fort Nelson was described as flat and boring with the town itself not up to much.  We headed back to Watson Lake to take the Cassiar – Stewart Hwy south.  Many people we’d spoken to considered this the better of the two routes.

Turning left along the Hwy 16, heading east again, small towns again getting bigger sprawled ahead of us. Some abandoned ramshackle properties, the odd one still inhabited.  Mine Road, Pit Lane giving clues to former communities.  Prince George Town, in recent terms was quite big.  It spread out ahead of us barely making a mark on the sky line with it’s one or rarely two story buildings.  Heading north from there took us back into mountains, lakes and the spindly, wizened black spruce oozing resin.  The black spruce’s high flammability the reason many wild fires take hold and spread so quickly.

The temperatures of at least 10 degrees higher than normal have caused havoc with forest fires in the north of Canada.  In the Yukon the fire between Dawson City and Whitehorse was still an issue three weeks after we initially heard about it.  Canoeing races down the River Yukon had been stopped because of fire sweeping across the river.  Riding across BC we’ve seen evidence of fires with mountain views being obscured and that distinctive bonfire smell in the air.  At Johnsons Crossing the campsite owner dismissed our inquiry about safety saying, ‘Yer, there’s a fire. It’s down the valley and across the river so won’t affect us here.’   It’s great to have something other than bears to worry about at night.  As we rode further on again the tell-tale smell was still in the air, smoke was wafting across the sky line to our left but on the right smoke was billowing up into the sky.  Getting closer we could see one helicopter with a water bomb and two small aircraft circling in the area.

Riding south down the Cassiar – Stewart Highway, a part of our backtracking, took us straight into the scene of a big forest fire from back in 2010.  The skeletons of black spruce trees still stood with new growth at their feet but clearly it’s going to take some time to be anything other than the scene of a forest fire.  The following year a second fire hit the area but it’s spread was restricted because of the previous burn out.  Evidence of past fires is very clear throughout our travels in all but the prairies which we entered near Edmonton.

While in the Edmonton area Jasper had made headline news as there was a severe forest fire raging to the north.  A northerly wind was blowing it down onto the town.  The news updates were looking grim.  Two days later it was stated with impending gloom that the town was likely to burnt down that night.  It did. Our route down the famously scenic Hwy 93 through Jasper was not going to happen.  Sadly a large part of the town was demolished by fire.  The rain came the following day but was probably too insubstantial to have much impact on the well established forest fire. Current opinion in the news is that it may take three months to be truly extinguished.

Having ridden down Hwy 21 where we enjoyed the delightful lush rolling pastures of the prairies and visited the tourist attraction Dry Island Provincial Park where the buffalo/bison were herded over the top of the cliff, we yet again, cut back westwards.   We did however manage to ride over the Saskatchewan Pass on Hwy 11 linking Hwy 22 with the midpoint of Hwy 93.  It was initially very unclear as to whether the junction would be open to traffic.  Thankfully, closed down Jasper was some way north on and we were able to turn south, after being royally shafted by the gouging prices at Saskatchewan Crossing.  (A micro can of gas cost us £15).  Along the linking pass towards the Jasper end was another interesting study of forest fires.  The ground in one area of thinned out burnt spruce had a magenta hue – fireweed was doing its rejuvenation job, while in the next 10 to 20 km there were areas with green 1m high trees, 2 m trees etc. clearly demarking the zones of previous fires and the progress of regeneration.

In  Alberta a second less publicised fire line is currently across the top of the province. Yet again residents have been evacuated.  This fire has had a more widely felt impact as fuel prices have been affected due to the risk to the oil fields.  400km south, in Edmonton, the air is tainted with a mild smoky mist.

On our meandering we spent a few days in Edmonton, our first ever Bunk-a-Biker stay.  Dave and Ardis were fabulous hosts.  A biking couple themselves we had lots in common and great stories to share.  Gid was very fortunate to be able to complete a service on both bikes and we were treated to many of the cities points of interest.  Edmonton being a target town because of the Royal Enfield dealer for service parts and just in case there were any warranty issues with the bikes.  Our stay was so good it was a bit of a wrench to say good bye but I was starting to get twitchy about making progress again and Gid had even had a rest day.  Our fabulous hosts had made a few suggestions as to the great routes they had taken and would recommend.  Tips like this have informed a lot of our route. So wonderful was our experience together that Dave and Ardis gave us each a parting gift.  Like many Americans and Canadians their bikes of choice are Harleys.  To our surprise they presented us with parting gifts.   We are now the proud owners of some Harley magic as our bells reach down to keep the evil road demons at bay.

Another visit that was hard to leave was to my cousin, Debbie, just down the road from Edmonton in Ryley.  Debbie and her Mom, Barbie, the latter whom we’ll visit in Calgary, had visited us in England forty years ago so it’s clearly time that we popped by.  Debbie and her husband Robin also talked of areas of interest that we might pass on our travels and made suggestions of places that are too good to miss.   I was quite surprised by how many interests we shared and how well we got on.  Thank you, Debbie, for my Labradorite bracelet.  Another charm to protect me on my way.  We clearly need these lucky charms if Gid’s bison experience, above, is anything to go by!

Starting our route across the Saskatchewan pass into the Rockies we went into the second area to display the ‘No Cellular signal for 230km’ sign.  The first had been along the Alaskan Hwy where we ran into problems around Muncho Lake.  We had wanted to camp in that area but were always too late, arriving at any time after five.  A number of the sites could be prebooked but not if you were on the road with no signal.  It was the same thing on the Saskatchewan Pass.  We were prepared to pay a little extra to get a campsite with more facilities.  A flush toilet – luxury, potable water – great.  As it happened Crimson Lake campsite, at the start of the pass, talked the talk but couldn’t deliver.  The initial site they offered us was unsuitable because it was on a slope and had a puddle where it would seem that recent flood water had collected.  When I pointed this out they were happy enough to move us but the hoped for shower was off!  Along Hwy 93 and 1A the scenic route through the Rockies from Jasper to Banff we had the same problem.  It was in the 230Km no cellular phone signal area.  We’ve been to Alaska before in 2012 and had hired a satellite phone.  It was expensive, bulky and certainly didn’t do internet.  We didn’t consider we needed one on this trip but hadn’t anticipated large areas where we couldn’t use our cell phones.  Along the highway through the national parks we could turn up at about a quarter of the campsites the rest had to be pre-booked which we were unable to do.

Most campsites are pretty basic, so we often went for a dip in the local stream or lake  That’s typically where the campsites are – next to lakes or rivers but up in the Rocky mountains where the temperatures had dropped from the highs of 33 degrees back to 9 the mountain streams weren’t so appealing.  Even the wilderness hostel a couple of hundred metres away from our campsite had no showers.

We reached our Air BnB in Calgary several days after this plight.  Gid was very business like suggesting we make a plan and maybe shopping was the first priority.  I was already half stripped and on my way to the shower.  He was quick to follow.

Our time in the Rockies has been fabulous.  We’ve done the classic tourist stuff, Lake Louise and Banff.  Jasper is off limits for reasons explained above but the event that will put it in our anals of special occasions is the trail we took up to Mosquito Pass.  Three of us set off.  Simon, a young man visiting the area on his own and wisely not brave enough to head off solo in bear country had joined us.  I was jingling away.  Well aware of the jokes – ‘How do you tell Black bear skat?  By the berries.’  ‘How do you tell Grizzly bear skat?  By the peppery smell and the bells.’  Gid and Simon nattered away.  Hopefully that was noise enough!

We climbed up, frequently crossing the creek. We were surrounded by mountains, towering up above us.  And spruce trees.  We were expecting meadows, which were referred to on the information boards at the start of the trail, but every new view seemed to meet and exceed our expectations.  Simon armed with binoculars stopped regularly to spy for wildlife.  Once we broke free of the tree line and cut across the stony track at the head of the valley again the views were breath taking.  On we went imagining that we’d seen the best.  How wrong could we be.  Eager to go just a bit further we continued on.  The top flattened out to the most amazing meadows.  Trumping that was the golden eagle that flew just a few metres above the meadows in search of ground squirrels 30m or so to one side.  I had only just said, ‘With so many ground squirrels where are the birds of prey?  You can’t have one without the other!’  This spectacular bird soared through.   It looked rather black I thought for a golden eagle.  Golden being the key word.  The following morning Simon brought his book of North Canadian Birds.  There it was pictured, the golden eagle – black, in the mountains (seen at over 2200m it ticked that box), solitary, lives on ground squirrels etc, nests in the mountains.  It certainly was a golden eagle!

We will be rather sad to leave Alaska and the Western area of Canada behind so special are they from this and previous trips.  We certainly haven’t been disappointed to visit them again.  At  Anchorage on flying in the American border guard told us that to restart our three month American travel visa we needed to spend a meaningful trip in Canada.  Visiting my relatives was on the agenda right from the start.  One month and visiting family was certainly a meaningful trip!

And we’re still having a big dither about our route through the USA. In the USA Highway 89 is scenic, we’re told, will keep us away from most big cities and in some beautiful places. But it’ll be August, and these are some of the hottest parts of the United States. Maybe the Pacific coast would be a more sensible, cooler route, especially if we can avoid the megacities and megacosts of California?