I don’t have the words to describe the country I’ve been passing through today, so for anyone reading this, please consider driving the Cassier Highway (highway 37) in British Columbia at some point in your life. There is a lodge perhaps every fifty miles or so, but otherwise it’s just wilderness up here, and it’s the kind of rugged wilderness that makes a person feel spiritual again. I won’t even try to describe it further as I’m sure I’d fail to do the country justice.
Most of the day has been cloudy, although the mountains along the Alaska panhandle and their many glaciers have occasionally peeked out to the west. The second black bear of the trip made his appearance this morning, munching on wildflowers just off of the road for a few minutes before making his way back into the woods. Dozens of big, bright red sockeye salmon were powering their way through shallow rapids in a creek I stopped at, and loons, geese, and ducks have also made occasional appearances. The moose remain surprisingly elusive, but there must be legions of them out there somewhere.
The camp spot tonight is in a primitive “campground” on the shores of a big mountain lake that the forest service apparently left here for anyone who stumbles upon it. My attempts to clear out the local horde of mosquitoes by building a smokey campfire failed, so I’m forced to write this from the shelter of the Subaru. Tomorrow I’ll most likely finish the last 150 miles along the Cassier Highway before it ends at the Alaska Highway and crosses into the Yukon Territory.