We finished our trek on the Alaska Highway, a road to remember, and turned onto The Stewart- Cassier highway, route 37, which began as a logging and mining dirt road and was made passable for cars in 1975. As we began our odyssey down this "highway", I was wondering if it was ever deemed ridable for motorcycles. With 400 miles to cover, we dug in and ate it up. With no traffic, no center lines, no shoulders, and no services for miles on end, we got up close and personal with the wilderness and the mountains. This must be the loneliest road in Canada.
Tufts of white clouds girdled the mountains mysteriously as we ascended. The temperature descended by 15 degrees, pulling us over to layer on clothes. Every 60 miles or so, Indian villages with a gas pump popped up. Often there was no gas and the service center was boarded up and weeded over. Thick vegetation grew up to the road and the birm often dropped off ten feet or more.
On and on we chugged, dancing around and sometimes over potholes and gravel. Wild dogs and horses ran along with us. Miles melted into hours and we were lulled into the magic of this road. Solitary together, the other worldliness of our place in time was overwhelming. Mountains lurked in the distance, lifting their veils for fleeting glances at fields of ice. Past jade mines and logging camps, we slowly approached the cut off for Stewart.
Then a bear! Another bear! One more! And one yet again when we turned onto 37A. We had not only taken the challenge of this road for the thrills, we had also heard rumors that we might see bears. And there they were, one black bear after the other, standing placidly at the edge of the forest. Suddenly the road to Stewart, a 40 mile dead end to the Alaskan border, lit up. Deep canyons, mountains caped in glaciers, dozens of waterfalls and overflowing glacial streams rushed us into the town. A charming little settlement, cupped in sheltering mountains, with a main street that hosts a few stores, 2 motels and friendly dogs, Stewart made us feel at home.
The real bear story came after a king crab dinner. As the sun dipped behind the mountains, we hopped on the bike and headed to Alaska! Hyder and Stewart bump into each other at the border, and we crossed without customs, perhaps because the road dead ends at the sea. Fish Creek was our destination and gave us the thrill of a lifetime.
The sound of serious splashing greeted us. Looking down at the stream we saw hundreds of salmon having their last fling. Then there were the ones belly-up, paying the price for lust! Because of this spawning bed, bears are attracted. The fish are vulnerable and an easy catch.
And then we saw a female grizzly. A larger male had just ducked around the bend, but his lady put on an extraordinary show. A true fisherwoman, she stalked the fish carefully. Many swished away as she walked toward them, but she always found one not paying attention and swooped her giant claws in and nailed him. She then walked proudly to the land with her catch, crunched it down, and was back on the prowl immediately. She worked the stream for at least half an hour, then disappeared into the woods, but never from our memories.
Tonight we witnessed the circle of life in all its purity. Salmon come to spawn, do their job, feed the bears and die. The eagles clean most of the dead and the rest feed nutrients into the stream. The eggs hatch and the fry swim to the ocean and the cycle begins again. The beautiful yet harsh reality of nature presented a pageant for us, and we watched in awe.
Tonight I will dream of avalanches, fish and bears, and wake up glad that I am not a salmon!
Route 37- 400 miles
Girdled mountains
Bridge shot
Wild horses
We ran with the river
Bear #1
Bear #2
Bear #3
Bear #4
The road to Stewart
Glaciers to the river
Glaciers to the road
Stewart mountains
The road to Hyder
Mrs. Grizzly
She got one!
And another
Before
After
Told you SE Alaska is FILTHY with black bears! Just awesome!!!!!!
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