Toward Haines Through Clouds
I woke up near the abandoned resort on Kluane Lake. Traffic on the highway was almost nonexistent, and the morning along the lake felt quiet and relaxing. I wasn't particularly hungry, so around 8:30 a.m. I packed up and headed south toward Haines Junction. About 15 minutes down the road, I pulled over at a turnout to look back at the view, make a coffee, and have a slice of toast.
After the break, the drive became much more rewarding. Yesterday the mountains had spent most of the day hidden behind clouds and haze. Today there were enough breaks in the weather to finally see them. Fresh snow still covered the peaks, while dark spruce forests stretched across the valleys below. The sky couldn't seem to make up its mind. One moment patches of blue would appear, and the next a low ceiling of clouds would drift across the mountains, hiding entire ridges before revealing them again. I stopped countless times along the way, sometimes to take photographs and sometimes just to stand there and stare at the views for a few minutes.
Back in Haines Junction, the crossroads of the region, I topped off the gas tank once again and spent a few minutes reading about the mountains I'd been stopping to photograph over the past several days. The sun kept trying to break through the clouds and would occasionally illuminate the tops of the mountains, but the sky still had that grey, moody look that didn't seem interested in clearing.
From there, I headed south toward Haines, Alaska. Not far outside town, I pulled into the first rest area I came across and decided to make it a catch-up day. The blog was behind, there was trip planning to do, and I wanted to spend some time researching what I'd be seeing over the next week.
While stretching my legs, I wandered over to the bear-proof dumpster, which was covered with stickers from all over North America. One immediately caught my attention: "Homer, Alaska — A Quaint Drinking Village with a Fishing Problem." That one seemed worth remembering.
A little after 3 p.m., I got back on the road. The speed limit was 100 km/h, but I was moving along at about 80 km/h. Not a single vehicle passed me. In fact, I eventually passed a car that was going even slower than I was. Someone else appeared to be out enjoying a leisurely Sunday drive and the "spring weather." I still have trouble thinking of temperatures in the mid-40s as spring weather, especially at the end of May.
The drive south offered endless opportunities to pull over. I stopped repeatedly, sometimes to photograph the scenery and sometimes simply to stand for a few minutes and take in the vast open spaces. The landscape out here has a way of making everything else feel very small.
By 5 p.m., I decided it was time to look for a place to spend the night. I found a quiet spot near a stream just off Haines Road (Yukon Highway 3). I'm far enough from the highway that there is virtually no traffic noise. After settling in, I happened to notice that Million Dollar Falls Campground was just behind me. I hadn't realized there was a campground nearby when I pulled in.
As I'm writing this, it's 10 p.m., and the light outside looks like it did hours ago. I have to force myself to start winding down because it still feels like the middle of the afternoon. The long northern evenings play tricks on your sense of time. I end up staying awake until nearly midnight, and even then it never becomes completely dark.