Wet'suwet'en territory

We arrived safely to our new friend's house in Moricetown.  We've been guests of people from the Wet'suwet'en First Nation and have been made really welcome by our host and his friends and family.  The Wet'suwet'en have no treaty with Canada and their territory is unceded.  Despite this, the current plans for the Enbridge pipeline and the Pacific Trails Pipeline are due to cut right through their lands.  Many people from the Wet'suwet'en are determined to stop this.  They can tell their story much better than us and you can find out more on their website.

We visited the camp they have set up on the gas pipeline route on Tuesday.  We were able to help with a little bit of the building and it was interesting to see and very inspiring to talk to some of the people fighting for their land.  There's an amazing sense determination to fight for what is yours, but with a strong global political analysis- for instance, a real concern is that projects like this are only proposed so that they will be protested and fail, allowing the companies to 'offset' what they DIDN'T do in one place, and do it in another.  In this case this might mean the Alberta-Texas Keystone XL project.  Our hosts here are not interested in protecting their lands only so somewhere else in the world can be ruined, but in a wider anti-destruction and expansionism outlook.  It's been inspiring and exciting to meet the people here.

Right where the camp is located is the proposed site for the convergence of five separate pipelines to cross the river.  I took the picture of the river standing almost on the planned site of a drill pad.

  The next camp to be hosted here will be in early August, for a traditional wedding and also the coming together of people to resist the pipeline.  It will be well worth keeping track of what happens: this should be much bigger news than it is.

As well as being well looked after and fed up on delicious fish, buffalo sausages and moose ribs (all from the area) with loads of time to relax and watch some interesting documentaries and read books, we've been taken out to explore the area and learn about some local activities.  We've picked soap berries (tarter than gooseberries and go foamy when mixed with sugar to eat), been to a couple of the community lunches, watched the traditional drum group (we were also encouraged to participate.  J never knew C was taught the highland fling when young...), and been taken out to watch and help collect birch bark for many baskets and various things.  The way it's removed doesn't harm the tree and the bark grows back over time.

Despite bringing some rain from Scotland, we also had a good wander round.

This bridge is over the most stunning canyon.  Looking down though, it's interesting to see the difference in the water, just a few pipes and logging outfits down the same river than the sparkling blue in the photo from the camp.

This one's specially for you, Dad :p - J

Tonight our host is going to Prince George so we're bumming a lift, to pick up all our stuff and say hi to the lovely people there, before hitting the road south again.

Prince George

We found him.  Which is good because he and some other very lovely people hosted us for a couple of days, and we we able to cook, read, sleep and generally have a very chilled time and meet some awesome folk :).

Lots of them are part of the 3rd Ave Collective.  We spent the first afternoon we were in town here- looking through their fascinating radical library (all the harder to build so far away from major cities or radical publishers), chatting to people about politics, Canada and everything in between and drinking the free coffee.  They didn't even mind that we hadn't showered in a stinkily long time, or were very good at hiding it.  (Also there was a dog THAT WEIGHED MORE THAN ME.  I say dog, I mean bear in a dog suit - C).  It's great to find projects like this in places where you don't know anyone, and see how many fired-up and cool people there are trying to make good places and good things happen.

Some of the folk from the collective and others have a piece of land a bit of a drive west of Prince George- the direction we were headed anyway.  We were invited to stay there, though warned it might be raining.

The farm was 240 acres of gorgeous BC farmland and forest.

We walked round some of it, chilled in the beautiful old farm house, played with kids, chickens, horses and dogs (not quite all at the same time), and were inspired by the atmosphere and all the plans and projects.  We've talked about maybe doing this kind of co-op one day, and it was a great opportunity to chat to people who've started one coming from a similar place as we would be.  Thanks to everyone there (and in Prince George though you guys haven't seen the last of us yet) for sharing your home so generously.  Also, we got free handmade soap (the kind that smells like you want to eat it).  Hmm, maybe people DID notice the smell...

Unfortunately for lots of landowners in the local area, mining and fracking companies can never see a beautiful part of the world without wondering what lethal and destructive substances they can pump through it.  Some of you may already be aware of the Northern Gateway Pipeline plans (from Enbridge Inc) coming from the Alberta Tar Sands- click the link for a bit more general NGO-type info.  Whilst the anti-Enbridge campaign is gaining momentum, and its great to see and hear so much about (every lift we've had since Fort Nelson has had something to say about the pipeline, almost all negative), other companies are pursuing business as usual.  For which read aggressive, nasty, poisonous and often illegal (which since they get to draft the laws anyway is just sloppy- C).  The Pacific Trails Pipeline (mostly gas) is planning to build across properties near the one we stayed at, despite a clear message from the residents that they're not wanted.  The farms are surrounded by hundreds of miles of crown land, so whether or not you are in support of building the pipeline, it clearly doesn't have to go straight through residential, agricultural and much loved land.  This may be an attempt to get the locals to bear responsibility for any spills or accidents on their land, thanks to a change in the law this year.  Money offered in compensation is insultingly small, such as $2000, a pittance to any mining company and nothing compared to the value it removes from the land, particularly if the land now comes with the burden of cleaning up burst pipes and any resulting damage.

But from what we saw the locals in that area are not going to take this lying down, and are adamant they can change the route, and not interested in selling the land they've developed over decades for any amount of money.  People were really knowledgeable and motivated and for a moment we almost pitied the pipeline company.  But not quite.

On a less serious note, we also saw our first Grizzly a few days ago.  It was by the road munching merrily on dandelions.  A tourist had stopped their car right next to the bear, had gotten out of the vehicle and was edging towards it, while gawping through a video camera lens at it.  You could see the s**t-eating grin on the bear as dandelions were cascading around it 'Yes, that's it.  I only eat dandelions.  Come closer, a little closer.  Oh, those 9 inch claws? They're for friggin' dandelions.'  I'm glad the tourist is dead, I really am. - C

The only First Nation to have refused the PTP permission to build on their land (they're also one of the First Nations to have refused to sign a treaty with the British or Canadians, making it completely unceded territory), are the Wet'suwet'en from North Western BC.  We're lucky enough to be in touch with a sub chief of the clan and our next day's hitching took us to his house in Moricetown.

To get here we hitched further up Highway 16- which between Prince George and Prince Rupert is nicknamed The Highway of Tears, due to all the women who have disappeared hitch-hiking on it.  there's even billboards warning you not to, though the slogan 'Girls don't hitch-hike the Highway of Tears' can be read as less of an imperative and more like those old Yorkie Bar adverts about Man Things.  Ahem.  Anyway, you're pretty safe in a couple, and we'll update again in a few days to let you know if we were dragged into an unmarked van and haven't been seen since.

1,000 miles into BC

NB: we've split this update into two posts, so there's another new one below about Whitehorse, for those not techie-minded enough to spot this.

Evening hitching turned out to be a charm, and we got 100 miles down the road to a common hitching spot.  We camped the night there in a proper final-scene-from-a-horror film abandoned cabin.

Wouldn't have been so bad if someone hadn't woken us up walking by and playing music at half one.  He was just walking his dog of course, the music presumably a bear deterent, and he didn't have an axe or a hockey mask or anything.  But still.

At eleven the next morning a truck pulled up.  We stared confused into the cab and wondered why he'd stopped.  But it actually was to pick us up, despite regulations: "I don't give a sh*t, and neither does my boss."

We travelled in his truck for thirteen hours, all the way down to Fort Nelson and into British Columbia.  The trip through the Rockies was stunning- there are loads of landscape photos but in this one you get a shot of our ride.

We also started seeing loads more wildlife.  We nearly hit a black bear, saw a dead moose, lots of live elk, porcupines both natural and 'au'van', and at one point the road was blocked by buffalo.

Even with the truck bonnet, its hard to appreciate how huge they are.  the photo also misses the atmosphere, which was added to by our drivers scraggy little dog hurling herself wildly at the window and yelping to be allowed to go pawo-a-hoofo against this guy.

Our driver was a really interesting guy.  He'd spent most of his life cowboying one way or another, so I'm sure you can all picture J's excitement and we managed to bore C to sleep talking about shoeing, bits, rodeos and whether or not Clydesdales are "all show and no go" (for the record, our lift is still wrong, and they're not.)

He'd also been a guide for big game hunting outfits, though apparently doesn't do it any more because he was too good at saying things like "you really can't shoot straight, can you?"

It's serious money up here.  So many people we've met hunt- First Nationers, Alaskans, Canadians.  All of them eat the animals they hunt, and in some cases its the only way to get meat, especially in the winter.  They don't hang horns on the wall and they don't have a checklist of kills.  It's been interesting to hear about a totally different way of life, from the people who live here.  But there's another side to it.  People from southern Canada and the lower 48 pay HUGE amounts of money to stay in lodges, get taken out with a guide, led to the animal, have their shot lined up with an experienced hunter stood beside them just in case, and then have the kill cut up and taken back for them (often they don't want, or can't take, the meat.)

We're talking $50,000 to kill one of these

(Which as you can see we were close enough to to HARPOON IT- C.)

People holiday in what is a way of life for some people, and seem to be consumers of places and livelihoods, rather than living them.  The same goes for the RV tourists, taking hundreds of pictures by the entering The Yukon sign and not talking to anyone but hotel receptionists.  Yes, we're bitter because they haven't picked us up (despite having vehicles so large that in the UK they'd have a POSTCODE- C).  But our point remains valid.

We're not trying to be the smug 'we're not tourists' bunch.  We're visitors here and know nothing about whats around us, and have dozens of naive questions for everyone.  But that's why we want to actually learn.  So far, where we've been has been shaped by a combination of geography and industry.  The Alaska Pipeline stretching the length of the Dalton, reminding us why the famous highway is there at all.  The Alaska Highway built in 1942 (so that if duty called North Americans could all physically charge Russia, we think), and now surrounded by mining and oil outfits.  Talking to people who work on these roads and drive them all the time gives you a sense of what these places are actually like.  But you can't really visit towns that are built on lives and livelihoods, not buildings and ancient history.

Ok.  Ramble over.  Rant, however, just coming.

At one truckstop, we came across this:


OK.  Things can't just call themselves "World Famous".  This is a far too often abused term and like 'revolutionary' and 'hero'  humanity has forfeited the right to keep abusing them the way they have.  We are taking these words away.  The Taj Mahal is world famous.  Uluru is world famous.  This is not. Your local chip shop is not.  Even the Alaska Highway is not.  If people ever do think about it, (which they don't) they only think it exists on the assumption that Alaska must have at least one road in it.  Then, THEN, its a HAT COLLECTION.  About 100 or so trucker caps, not even all of firms to do with the highway, just trucker caps.  I own one hundred books.  I do not call this the 'World Famous Back of the Closet in my Mother's House Book Collection' .  Because I have to look at myself in the mirror.  And so should that toad.  Thats all I'm saying - C

We camped near a dump (no one seemed to care) at Fort Nelson and in the morning quickly got a lift all the way to Dawson Creek.  This was the end/start of the Alaska highway and we celebrated this section of our trip with the remaining Yukon beers.

One more lift took us to Chetwynd (near Macleod lake, which is funny for us and the three people reading this who will know why.  Not important if you're not one of them.).  The weekend before there had been Chainsaw carving competitions, which they have every year, leading to a huge collection of amazing sculptures like this:

One last ride took us all the way to Prince George.  We made over 1,000 miles in about 50 hours.  Not bad going for hitching.  We camped last night and today have started to explore, and are hoping to meet up with a friend of a friend.

Well, we'd best go do that...

Whitehorse

Our host had to go to Whitehorse herself the next day, so she kindly took us along.  Whitehorse is the capital of The Yukon, and built in what was a prehistoric lake, so at the bottom of a huge gully.  The Yukon river runs through town, the same one we crossed over and back on the Dalton in Alaska.  It was weird to think we were at the same river again, another thousand miles inland.

The town was name for the rapids that used to run through it, but after a hydro electric dam was built the river looks like this:

We stayed at the Robert Service (named after a Canadian poet) campground, for two nights.  It was $20 a night for a tent, plus extra for firewood (we just gathered some from nearby trees as this seemed to make more sense), so not the cheapest but reasonable, and there were showers etc and it felt more secure to leave bags there, especially as 'unauthorised' camping is illegal in the county so anywhere we'd snuck off with the tent could have been discovered by police.

The first day we hired some bikes.  Whitehorse has various really decent options for doing this.  We just got a couple from the campground and went out first on some trails

and then, because apparently we end up in some kind of refuse site wherever we are, we visited the town dump.  This makes more sense than you might think.  First of all there are loads of birds there.  We saw about four bald eagles and dozens of ravens - much cooler than eagles really, scruffy black commoners that can chase them away ;).  Also, next to the recycling they have a 'free shop' of things people are chucking that still have a bit of life in them, so other people can come and look and take what they want.  A pretty civilised way to go about things.

  We were told back in Alaska that they have a similar arrangement there, though a bit more informal, and there was much anger when Fairbanks local government suggested taking away 'dumping rights'.

The next day we visited the 'Beringia centre'.  It's all about the land mass, animals and people that lived in Beringia, when you could walk between whats now Russia and Alaska.  It was really interesting and the staff were really enthusiastic and knowledgeable, and it was cheap too.  We got to prod mammoth bones, see a 26,000 year old horse pelt, and a reconstruction of a prehistoric Musk Ox (amongst many others).  The Musk Ox, turns out, hasn't changed at all and could have been the same guy we met on the Dalton.

Having used price to help select our activities we'd also decided to go on a tour of the town brewery, five bucks and profits to charity, and they have loads of interesting and tasty looking different beers.  However when we got there the tour was full.  So, concluding with sound economics that we now had ten bucks to spare, we spent it (and a fraction more) on beer, and conducted our own tasting session.

Rather than pay for another night at the campsite, we decided to try our luck hitching in the evening, and we started thumbing at half eight...

Into The Yukon!

We probably won't always be able to update this regularly, but we've been lucky with Internet and thought we should make the most of it. 

In Delta Junction we tried hitching for a couple of hours and were getting thouroughly sodden when a car pulled up.  It wasn't a lift, it was a local couple who lived two minutes away.  They had taken pity on us and brought us back to their lovely, self-made house (yay for more Alaskan wooden houses) and fed us hot coffee and paella.  They also turned out to both be originally from Idaho! You can imagine how excited this made C.  What are Idahoans doing? Ranching mostly.  Why are there Basque people there? Sheep, it turns out.  All those questions C has been bugging people with back in the UK for ages now, answered and we're still in Alaska.  Not only this but since the rain was still chucking it down, we were invited to stay the night and gratefully accepted.  Next morning there was the quintessentially American breakfast of waffles and they showed extraordinary kindness in driving us to the next town over (which being Alaska was 100 miles away): Tok Junction, pronounced as if there was an 'e' after the 'k', giving us a cheap laugh.  On the way we saw our first moose :).

Lots of tourists pass through Tok, headed up or down the Alaska Highway into/out of Canada.  Hurrah, thinks we.  Just one ride in one of these gigantic, posh RVs (many of which look like tour buses for rock stars) and we'll be well on our way.

Six hours later we've invented several new insults reserved just for people who drive huge RVs with space for a small village (and their goats) inside, but apparently think hitch hikers are just part of the scenery*.  But a local family eventually stopped and took us on to Northway Junction, the last turnoff before Canada.  We ended up camping there and today two lifts took us past our first bear sighting (a black one, moseying around by the road) to near Destruction Bay (most awesomely named bay EVER - C).  The second of these lifts is yet another kind stranger, who has taken us in and in return for lifting some heavy stuff and peeling potatoes has fed us Alaskan Salmon she was bringing back over from where it was caught in 'fish wheel', an Alaskan native tradition.  Her house is   Our host belongs to the First Nation from this area and has lots of interesting stories and info about the area and the people.

We've seen loads more breath taking scenery

and some interesting woodland creatures...

There is a bit of a sense of hurry to this part of the trip.  It's a great shame.  It's because our 90-day visa waiver in the USA doesn't stop ticking while we're in Canada (they apparently own it or something) so we have until the first of September to get from here all the way to Mexico.  It's very do-able, but does mean our minds are on dates and times more than we'd like and limits detours and hanging around just because something is interesting.  But heck, there are millions of people whose issues with borders and immigration systems are far greater than just not having time to go to Amarillo (they have a 72oz steak there- you get your name on a plaque if you eat it within the time! - C)




* Other responses include speeding up, crossing the road presumably in case we leap onto the fenders, and raising their hands helplessly which we have concluded means 'sorry, I can't actually stop this thing'.

Arctic Wanderings

Well, we made it- even if at times it felt like by the skin of our teeth, and we're now headed south for quite a long time.

Our couple of days in Fairbanks worked out well.  We explored the town, bought supplies for the next wee while, and made food and chilled out at the place we were staying, which, thanks to the magic of Couch Surfing, was here:

This photo was taken at midnight, as dark as it's got since we've been here.  It's slightly disorientating but certainly makes jet lag the least of your worries and means you don't have to worry about being caught hitching at nightfall.


After our day exploring, we decided to thumb a lift back out to the cabin as we'd been walking all day and it was another 5 miles.  We got chatting to our lift and they extremely generously took us out to dinner!  There are a lot of Thai people and therefore Thai restaurants in Fairbanks.  I have no idea how the human geography of that works, but I'm really glad it does, as the food was amazing.  We followed it with local home made ice cream and had a great evening with our Alaskan hosts.


The next day we visited some Musk Oxen at a research place- they're very cool animals, gigantic sheep-type things with huge foreheads, stoic expressions and a defense mechanism that consists of standing very still.


Early Thursday morning, we hitched north.  We got lifts pretty easily to the start of the Dalton Highway

and then sunbathed and killed mosquitoes for a while before getting picked up by some tourists headed to the Arctic Circle.  They too seemed to think we needed feeding, and we munched Alaskan Salmon by the spectacular Yukon River.
Like a lot of people it seems they were going as far as the official Arctic Circle and then going back.  It's not actually the nicest spot on the road, mostly just trees and not much of a view, just a big sign saying where you are.  Shows how much people love the lines we draw ourselves even if we basically make them up.
It did mean we sat at the Arctic Circle for a long, long time.  Trucks and other commercial vehicles on the haul road aren't allowed to pick you up, and could be risking their jobs if they do.  A lot of them obviously feel bad about this, illustrated by one guy pulling over an eighteen wheel tanker just to apologise and give us a can of green tea (with added sugar and ginseng).  But lifts were starting to look unlikely.  About four hours into this, we were starting to rationalise- 'the Arctic Circle is still a long way.'  'If we don't make it to Deadhorse, we don't make it.  There's a lot more Pan American to go.'
But when a guardian angel in a beaten up contractors truck pulled up to check his load and had (his words) 'a moment of weakness', and I was stuffed in the back with his beautiful dog while C climbed in the front, we could admit to ourselves that's all bollocks.  It's the start of the road!  You gotta get there!
The scenery got more and more stunning, and none of the pictures I've got do it justice.  It moved from trees to tundra to sweeping mountains and more moments like this

We saw bald eagles, dall sheep, cairbou, and a musk ox in its natural habitat!  This habitat seems to be the side of the road eating short grass and not caring about lorries.  Our lift told us they sometimes form protective circles on the highway and refuse to move.  He was an Alaskan native who talked about everything from the animals to the winter to local politics as we drove.
So the journey to Deadhorse was beautiful, and I guess the journey is more important than the destination.  Which is good, because the destination in this case was pretty horrible.  It was light at two am but fog made it a ghost town, and there is literally nothing there but trucks and marshes.

The local hotel was not friendly and didn't let us stay in the warm without spending loads of money on food- we weren't even allowed to split one plate between us!  The po-faced jobsworth insisted if we only bought on breakfast one of us would have to leave.
Concluding there was nothing for us here (though I did see an Arctic fox) we started hitching again.  Four and half hours and a lot of commercial vehicles with apologetic shrugs later, I was onto my seventh layer of clothing and C was shaking so violently they could have converted him into drilling equipment.  We were actually starting to budget for tour buses or small planes, and feeling once again like we'd fallen at the first hurdle.  But eventually a woman in a standard passenger car who'd just come for the drive pulled over.  Shivering and offering to clean the car/marry her/give her our loved ones, we tumbled in and barely noticed that the journey had officially begun.


We got her to drop us off at Coldfoot, which is halfway down to Fairbanks, as we'd actually made record time and had a day free for hiking.  We climbed a big hill.  Sweaty, but a win.  (NB: Camera and computer have ceased to play nicely, no more pictures for this entry.  Which is a shame 'cause the hill had a good view!)


Saturday evening we got a ride 20 miles south to the mosquito INFESTED South Fork of the Koyokuk river.  A name engraved upon us for some time to come as we sat and stared at that sign for two days, only surviving because a pipe fitter took pity on us and brought us lunch bags, and some nearby miners gave us Grayling we could cook on their fire.  But eventually more guardian angels in a small campervan brought us back to Fairbanks last night, where we restocked on supplies and thought we'd try hitching as it was still light at 11pm and neither of us were tired.  We struck it very lucky, getting one lift out to the motorway in about ten minutes, and then picked up by a guy who let us stay in his house and take a shower and then bought us a breakfast of reindeer sausages this morning.


Currently, we're in Delta Junction, where the Alaskan Highway which runs from here to Dawson Creek in BC.  We're only traveling it as far as Whitehorse, which is good, though it may still be complicated... because recently this happened...  hmmm.  We may have to improvise.


Alaska is definitely beautiful, and being here now also makes you want to come back in the winter, when it is like a different planet.  But it's also very expensive, especially to do and see those big 'Alaskan' things.  It's not really a place where our chosen type of travel, on the cheap and always looking for the alternative, really gels.  Having said that, the best part for me has been meeting the locals, and hitch hiking has actually been pretty easy.  There's a real sense in people from here of being part of the place and wanting to show you around, and we've learnt, seen, and tried so much already just from talking to people from here and letting them be hospitable.


No bears or moose yet.  But the Yukon to go so plenty time...  We'll probably update next in Whitehorse.


Love to all!
xxx

We've gone!

Well, we're in Alaska.  This blog is the last two minutes of a library computer session so will be brief!

It is very hot.

We are staying in a log cabin.

I got into the US on my old tourist visa- anyone who remembers that fiasco, you guess is as good as mine!

C DID tell customs he wasn't going to America, but Argentina, and they were in the way.

Will do a proper update at some point, but probably not until we've been to Deadhorse and back!