Nov/Dec Ac 2003
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Can’t you hear the Wild? – it’s calling you. Let us probe the silent places, let us seek what luck betide us; Let us journey to a lonely land I know. Let us whisper on the night-wind, there’s a star agleam to guide us, And the Wild is calling, calling…let us go. -Robert Service Where the Mountains Have No Name Story and Photos by Aaron Teasdale In the far, far north, where the wilder- This description appealed to me greatly. northwest to the border of the Northwest size of dinner plates. We’d gotten a late ness is vast and the hand of man is light, a I moved from the urban confines of Territories, a 285-mile earthen ribbon start that morning, and by the time we set dirt road wanders off from the Alaska Minneapolis to Montana, the place with the through some of the most scenic, untamed up camp on an open ledge over the road and Highway and carves a pathway into the hin- wildest country I could find, for those very country in North America. cook dinner, it’s 11:30 at night, which, terlands. A sign here reads, “Caution: nar- things. Yet here was a place that promised We never do see a grizzly bear that first given that it’s still light out, doesn’t feel all row, winding, wilderness road. No services the sweet rewards of wild nature on an even day, but as we climb into the mountains, that strange. next 232 kilometers.” On August 1st, 2005, greater scale — a kind of uber-Montana. griz tracks running on the road’s edge con- “What are we, Spaniards?” Ron asks three cyclists at the beginning of their jour- The challenge, of course, with a place like firm that we haven’t missed it by much. about our European dinner hour. ney take pictures of each other in heroic this is finding a long-distance mountain bike Flaming red explosions of fireweed line the Our perch overlooks a sprawling, poses beneath this sign. At that very route, but as soon as I heard about the Canol road like fireworks of welcome as we ride bowl-like valley, its forest of shadowy-green moment, a battered sedan comes speeding Road, I knew I’d found my ride. Starting in deeper and deeper into a boreal forest of subalpine fir rising to verdant meadows and down the dirt road, slowing just enough as it the lake country of southern Yukon, it runs aspen, black spruce, and mushrooms the bald, snow-patched mountaintops. Treeline passes for the driver to call out, “Hey! comes quickly this far north, and at 4,000 There’s a big grizzly up the hill.” feet our camp is only a couple hundred feet “Are you serious?” blurts Ron, one of below the treeless alpine. Caribou tracks the cyclists, in the disbelieving tone of some- lead through our campsite and huge one who is only hours removed from the mounds of grizzly scat litter the road below. suburban confines of New Jersey. But the Nowhere is there any sign of human activi- car speeds away onto the Alaska Highway ty except for the dirt road that delivered us. without another word. “Well, we made it,” I say quietly, as Ron looks at my Dad and I. We look up the prolonged dusk of the northern night the dirt road that climbs and turns out of settles over the forest and mountains. sight. “We’re in the Yukon.” “Let’s hurry up so we can see it!” I say. Dad and I both have longstanding love “Where’s my pepper spray?” Dad says, affairs with mountains and wild country. and starts rummaging through his pack. He started taking me backpacking in Ron does the same. The bear is a good real- Montana when I was ten, and we’ve taken ity check for us. We’re not in New Jersey, backcountry trips together nearly every Minnesota, or even Montana any more. summer since. His best friend Ron has We’re in the Yukon, and it’s time to make often joined us in the years since Dad first sure the pepper spray is close at hand. took him backpacking in the 1970s. Born As each of us figures out our own and raised in Brooklyn and now living in method for securing the pressurized cans of New Jersey, he’s come to love the moun- high-powered critter-repellent within easy tains too. Last year we took our first trip reach, a red fox — way larger than any red biking instead of backpacking, where Ron fox I’ve ever seen — trots across the road. overcame his total lack of cycling experience “Was that a wolf?” Ron says. and we had a glorious mountain-bike tour And so begins our journey into the in the mountains of British Columbia. After Yukon wilds. that success, I thought we were ready for Sharing a common border with Alaska, something more adventurous. We were Cottony Camp. Blooming cottongrass carpets roadsides and campsites along the Canol. its more heavily-traveled sibling, the Yukon is defined by its wildness. A full eighty-per- cent of its land is wilderness, and the rest isn’t far off. Consider that it is larger than California, but with a population of only 33,000 people — 24,000 of whom live in the capital city of Whitehorse. Befitting its frontier character, it’s not even a proper Canadian province but rather a territory, which struck me as having a rugged, roman- tic ring to it. As one longtime Yukoner described it to me, “the Yukon is all lakes, rivers, and mountains.” Giant steps. Fresh grizzly tracks have a way of commanding attention. Note claw marks. 12 ADVENTURE CYCLIST JUNE 2006 ADVENTURECYCLING.ORG ADVENTURE CYCLIST JUNE 2006 ADVENTURECYCLING.ORG 13 ALASKA North Canol Rd. Carmacks Nuts & Bolts: Riding the Canol l Ross South River Getting There: AirNorth Maps: Mac’s Fireweed Books: YUKON Canol Rd. l (www.flyairnorth.com), Yukon’s (800) 661-0508, www.yukon Whitehorse NORTHWEST airline, offers connecting books.com. Located in down- TERRITORIES l flights from Vancouver and town Whitehorse, it has a com- Calgary to Whitehorse and plete collection of Yukon topo- Alaska offers friendly, professional graphic maps available in- BRITISH Highway Watson Lakel service. For getting to the store and on their website. COLUMBIA start of the Canol from Map Town (www.maptown. ALBERTA Whitehorse, contact Kanoe com) is another good source MANITOBA People: (867) 668-4899, for Yukon maps. For the South www.kanoepeople.com/sales. Canol we used the Quiet Lake SASKATCHEWAN USA ONTARIO html#3 or UpNorth: (867) 105F and Teslin 105C maps. 667-7035, www.upnorth.yk.ca. Guided Trips: Skagway, Co: (877) 292-4154, cyclist with camping gear Bikes: Bike rental options in Alaska-based Sockeye Cycle www.cyclealaska.com. Leads a could ride the South Canol in Whitehorse are limited — ten-day, van-supported trip five days. But what’s the you’re best bet is Kanoe over the South and North hurry? You could easily spend People, where you can rent Canol from August two weeks exploring every- 25–September 3. They also thing here. The North Canol is Backcountry byway. Harold Teasdale threads his way though one wild mountainscape after another on the Canol Road. serviceable Kona hardtails. (Check over your bike thor- rent bikes, panniers, camping less-traveled and even more oughly before leaving). You gear, etc. remote than the South; the ready for the Yukon. moral dimension to the age-old man versus ect of the United States Army to access oil- drive-able portion ends just The morning finds us descending from mosquito struggle. “At least that’s the way I fields deep in the Northwest Territories. can also rent bikes and gear from Sockeye Cycle (see Tourism Information: beyond the Northwest the mountains into a broad, sylvan valley see it.” The road and accompanying oil pipeline Guided Trips below). Tourism Yukon: Territories’ border. In the NWT, rich with crystalline creeks, deep-blue lakes, On the afternoon of our third day, the (“Canol” is short for “Canada Oil”) fol- www.touryukon.com. Has a the Canol Heritage Trail is and the largest, most bloodthirsty mosqui- forest opens to reveal Quiet Lake, a twenty- lowed native First Nation travel paths and Shops: Phillipe’s Bicycle helpful website and visitor’s unmaintained and rough, with toes the world has ever known. For the next mile-long valley of water ringed by blue were monumentally difficult and, at a cost of Repair: (867) 633-5600, 508 center in Whitehorse. many river crossings. It’s two days, we pedal through deep forest mountains. The riding has been unrelent- $134 million, expensive to carve out of the Wood St. rumored to be somewhat bike- under overcast skies, the trees only occa- ingly hilly all trip — the lakes are practically wilderness. They proved equally difficult to Icycle Sport: (867) 668-7559, About the Canol: Stout tour- able for one hundred miles or sionally parting to glimpses of high peaks or the first flat places we’ve seen — and we’re maintain, especially in the Northwest www.icyclesport.com. ing bikes are possible (knobby so, before the rivers crossings the serpentine Nisutlin River. happy to flop down on the pebbly shoreline. Territories where annual spring floods had a tires are a must), but the become too severe to attempt “I don’t know why I derive such pleas- A formal campground behind us hosts a few habit of carrying away the road’s many Canol is best enjoyed from a with a bike.