Circling Skagway

Leaving Whitehorse on my detour to Skagway, Alaska I swerved off to check out the world's longest wooden fish ladder. Evidently, when a large dam was installed south of town there was significant concern over the salmon migrating through the valley. The solution- massive fish ladder. There's an underwater camera at the mouth of the ladder as well as a cool little building in the last part of its climb with viewing windows! There's a huge advantage for the official fisheries organizations too, allowing access to the fish as well as being able to count those that pass through.

I'm amazed at the engineering that went into it, including underwater panels below the damn that create current to "nudge" the fish to find the ladder. heading up the ladder, which is more or less a wooden trough, there are eddy creating nooks built in to allow the salmon calm spots to rest in during their climb that also create enough current in the main channel of the ladder to compel them to keep on. Its low tech, but seemingly well thought out.

Unfortunately for me, Its a bit early in the season and there are "no fish". No salmon, I should say. There are some smallish grayling on the underwater camera, and on my way out one little shy one makes its way up the ladder and past the viewing ports, but she didn't want her picture taken. For just a brief second, while watching the underwater cam's screen with the station's volunteer, a huge tail came into view. The volunteer was excited and surprised, thinking it to be of a pike. What do I know about fish? He could have said it was the Loch Ness monster's dorsal fin. The whole experience was interesting, if rather anticlimactic. I may make a point to come back this way during the more "peak season" for fish. Talking to some locals at a paddling shop earlier, it sounds like overfishing in Alaska has really dropped their salmon numbers. One told me 1500 was last year's total count. It may not be worth the return if its only for fish sightings...

While I'm talking local information, I've gotta say the visitor's centers I've been using across BC and Yukon have been impressive. Open, informative and knowledgeable people staffing them and huge amounts of free literature and maps. The WiFi lifeblood of this blog is also free and reliable at each of them so far. One of the clerks of the visitor information center (VIC) in Whitehorse explained to me it is a product of government funding. 85% of workers are evidently govt employees. This funding also leads to awesome trial systems.

Ok, moving on, I head southward toward Skagway. I know little about the town, as I've only really been reading up on the stretch of road ahead of me in Canada, not much on AK just yet. This is also a detour of my "planned" route, to facilitate the Chilkoot pass hike. I pull off the road at every lake and distraction along the way as I've got a bit too much time on my hands, a product of the train schedule that is dictating the return from the hike.

Not paying great attention, as the area is stunningly beautiful and displaying some of my first snow capped peaks on this trip, I pass the Fraser Canadian border crossing on the other side of the road. Its for folks coming into Skagway via air or ship and coming in. Wait, did I just go too far? Am I out of Canada? Without crossing into the US?

I linger in this weird 12km no mans land a bit, debating my options. The terrain has taken an interesting change, unique from what I've seen so far. The guide books use terminology "moonscape" but there's just so much water, I'm not sure if I'd agree. Ultimately I decide to head on into Skagway about a day "too soon" and cross my first US border. The reputation is that getting back in is significantly harder than getting out of the US and into Canada. With my passport in hand, and images of getting pulled over and searched (unpacking the whole damn van) in my head, I roll up to the crossing. It is after quite a dramatically descending and winding road.

A giant tour bus of cruise shippers returning from "excursions" in front of me veers off into the second crossing lane, revealing a lone cyclist. Quite the dramatic range of tourists feel the draw of this area. Despite all of the horror stories I've heard, this crossing is actually much easier and casual. It does make sense, I guess, that this crossing may not be taken quite as seriously as the lower 48's. Time will tell I imagine.

Past the crossing, I swerve off to the right before hitting town as I spot signs for the Chikoot trailhead. Might as well scope it out. I find a campground near the trailhead that's pretty wonderful so I snag a spot for 10 bucks (US or CAN, so I opt for using some of my remaining CAN dollars). I chat with the camp host a while, who's wife is off in Juneau and I can tell he's a bit lonely without her, so I settle into the conversation. I learn a bit about the area and his family, as well as his foray into camp hosting with his wife.

He's taken an 8 hour bear safety training course and shares quite a bit of what he's learned from it, including how effective air horns are for scaring grizz. That and unfurling a trash bag makes you appear suddenly much larger, as well as some simple techniques to make you look "like you're not food", such as simply taking off your hat and waving it around and donning it again. He explains, "food don't do that".

I've got to pick up my permit, secure a shuttle from the train station back to my vehicle, as well as get some info on this river, the Taiya, that flows by camp. I'm plotting a leisurely float tomorrow. I'll bet I can hike up the Chilkoot a ways and drop in, to simply float/paddle home. With a little bit of a to do list, I head into town.

Its a tourist trap, teeming with throngs of cruise goers for the most part. But the staff is all young adventure seekers it seems to me. The familiar rabble that lives at the guide house on commercially run rivers. They are more my people than the guests, it quickly becomes obvious. But, each of the workers I encounter surmise this too, and I get a bit of the local treatment and info.

Armed with most of the info I needed, as well as the phone number to "the shuttle lady", I grab a beer to sample the local brewery, then head back to camp surprisingly tired and barely make it into my book before waking up disoriented, in my clothes at about 2 am with an incredibly strong need to pee.

That word "excursion" is rattling in my head for some reason, as I climb back into the van to properly get to sleep. To me, it is used for precisely the opposite what it is intended to describe. I feel like it should be used for endeavors that would be dangerous without experience or training. Real forays off the beaten path, made by true explorers. These days it is almost exclusively used by the cruise ship style, a la carte, curated, no risk forms of travel to make the side trips seem more interesting.

I try to clear my head. Why is it that my 2 am brain wants to do some mental work/debate. I force myself to sleep.