The Klondike highway follows more or less the 'gold rush trail' to Dawson city. The route 40.000 dreamers took at the end of the 19th century in search of that precious stone. It was a epic journey due to the severe weather, the conditions of the trails and the rapids of the river Yukon.
The asphalt has covered the foot prints of the miners long ago and there is not much that reminds you of that glorious past. Apart from the interpretive centers doted along the way, and the transformed landscape especially around Dawson city where one can see the man made hills of broken rock made by the machinery.
The 562kms I've made from Dawson city to Whitehorse where very easy compared with the dempster highway. The Klondike highway apart from small stretches of gravel road is in good conditions, crossing the small rolling hills of the Yukon plateau.
I’ve took the chance of the relatively good conditions to increase the daily average to 93.5kms. Not only due to the road conditions but also due to the monotony of the landscape, that didn't invite to make too many stops. Also the climatic window is closing. The daily temperatures are very pleasant for cycling, with maximums of 20 degrees, but the nights are cooler with the thermometer going down to 5 degrees.
The summer is ending.
And I'm not prepared to face the rigor of the Canadian winter.
Beaver creek, not too far from here, registered in the 70's the lowest temperature of North America. An astounding -63 degrees.
On this part of the Klondike highway the landscape may seem monotonous but camping on one of its many lakes or rivers and the nature comes alive. Reminder that I'm not cycling alone.
I pitch my tent by Gravel Lake. Some beavers are busy bulding their houses, networks of pieces of wood that change landscapes. The beavers are the engineers of the animal kingdom. One single beaver can cut up to 200 trees in a year. That justifies the Canadian saying: "busy as a beaver".
Some ducks and other waterfowls land in the water to spend the night.
I turn on my short waves radio and listen to the weather forecast for tomorrow. Pump the gasoline bottle and set up the stove. As I cook dinner I observe the lake full of live and its surroundings at the sunset.
And there I am. Alone, me and the nature.
I'm starting to feel more at ease to camp in the wild. I’m starting to identify some of the nocturnal noises and sleep well at night without wake up with the lightest noise of the nature thinking that it’s a bear, like I used to do in the beginning of this trip.
In fact in this part of the world is more dangerous to a bear then to be a human.
On the following morning I zipped open my tent. The first rays of the sun warm up the chilly morning. Just in front of me are 2 white wild cisnes with black beak.
I transport myself in time and see myself waking up in the room of my flat back in London, with a hangover of the many cigarettes and glasses of wine of the previous night. And I'm late to work, again!
Where’s the reality? Here or there?
I prepare a bowl of cereals a few sandwiches of butter nut crème(highly energetic) and a cup of coffee. Pack everything up and dismount my tent. A process that takes me one and half hour every morning. and I continue my journey.
I feel stronger then ever. I almost can fell my muscles growing.
Each day with more motivation then the other, to reach south and Tierra del fuego.
But for now, I’ve arrived just at Whitehorse, capital of the northern province of the Yukon.
This province 5 times bigger then Portugal has just 32000 inhabitants and 23000 live in the capital.
That is 6 caribou per inhabitant or a grizzly bear per family of 5. In the Yukon, nature reigns. is the queen of the attractions.
Whitehorse is not only the capital, but also the frontier town to the north. The border between the wildness of the north and the somehow controlled landscape of the south. In here finishes the greyhound bus network .The national emergencies services 911, and the good reception of radio and mobile phones. Not even the corporations like Mc Donald’s and Pizza Hut venture further north.
I will stay in Whitehorse for another couple of days. Ahead of me is the infamous Alaska Highway that will take me to Watson Lake. From there is another 1000kms before I reach Prince Rupert,trough the cassiar Highway.
Of course the route may change. But the itinerary is easy:
Always south until there is no more roads...
Nuno Brilhante Pedrosa, in Whitehorse, Canada
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