I had my best night’s accommodation yet, at the Arctic Divide Lodge.
After 1000 kilometres of the Alaska Highway since leaving Dawson Creek, I temporarily leave Britsh Columbia for a short stop in the Yukon.
This was very much a day of two halves – split by a lunch stop in the Yukon at Watson Lake. Setting off after another hearty Canadian breakfast – including what Jack claims (with some justification I think) is the best bacon in Canada (shipped in specially from Dawson Creek) – I had a chance to admire the full prospect of Muncho Lake.
The wilderness and wildlife experience continued, with my I-Spy collection of large Canadian mammals scoring two further hits. Continue reading
For the third night of the trip, I was booked in at the Double G Services at Muncho Lake, which really is a lake rather than a settlement. The services combines accommodation, a café, a gas/diesel station, a shop, a post office, and most other facilities you can imagine. It also proved very welcoming after a long journey.
The unorthodox way of greeting guests allows late arrivals to settle in without disturbing the owner
This stage of the trip saw the Arctic Highway starting to show its character and beauty, as I went further north, into higher and more challenging country. Although I have been asked several times what brings me to ‘the North’, the area is much more remote than it is northerly. Fort St John is in fact only as far north as Edinburgh.
My hotel last night was a real disappointment. Although I had booked at a rate which included breakfast, it turned out that the Fort St John Motor Inn had no breakfast facilities. The manager blustered and obfuscated – there was no way that he was going to agree to offer me even the smallest refund. Goodwill lost, and I left my first ever really negative review on booking.com. I got rid of the metaphorical bad taste in my mouth with a splendid healthy breakfast at the splendid Whole Wheat and Honey café. A good breakfast with nice coffee is a remarkable spirit lifter.
I was up early this morning – still struggling with time travelling back 8 hours. Still, it’s a good chance to get stuck into Canadian breakfast culture, with a “Good old country breakfast” at the restaurant next to the motel. “How would you like your eggs?” leaves me puzzled, and I have to get the waitress to tell me the possibilities. When I explain you don’t get choice like that in England, she says “That explains a lot” and laughs. Then four sorts of toast . . . I have rye. Why not? The endless top ups with coffee are also a welcome change from the European model.