Williams Lake to New Hazelton

First, thanks to everyone for your comments on the posts. Reading them makes me feel connected. And a special thanks to those who have used their creative abilities to create your comments. Thanks to Mark as well for sharing his song.

In response, here’s some poetry I’ll share. This, from the poet laureate of the North:

It's the great, big, broad land 'way up yonder,

It's the forests where silence has lease;

It's the beauty that thrills me with wonder,

It's the stillness that fills me with peace.
- Robert Service

I got an early start this morning (still on East Coast time) and got in 420 miles by the middle of the afternoon. It felt a little chillier this morning (low 50’s), was sunny most of the day, with some afternoon showers. A lot of the morning’s drive followed the Fraser River again, but when I got to Prince George, I cut west on the Yellowhead Highway, which runs to the coast.

The flora is changing – lots of birch and fir trees now. The nature of the little towns I’m going through is also changing. The businesses are a little more basic, and the buildings are more obviously designed for long, cold winters.

Stopped tonight in New Hazleton, which is really small – gas, grocery, movie rental, and a couple of motels. My motel, the Robber’s Roost, is simple but nice. There’s an Old Hazleton too, off the road a few miles, on the river. It’s got a two block “Historic District” and used to be an important frontier outpost. According to the motel owner, it’s got the best restaurant around, also on the river. The alternative looks like a couple of questionable Chinese places.

Hazleton is home to a couple of Native Canadian tribes. One of the things I learned while getting ready for this trip is that the Canadians refer to their Native populations as “First Nations” peoples. I’m surprised I’d never heard of this before, but it makes sense that they aren’t called Indians. It was us who screwed that one up. “First Nations” is a much more intuitive name.

Tomorrow, I go up the Cassiar Highway, and join the Alaska Highway in the Yukon. (Notice that the highways from here on are known by names). The Cassiar is a more remote and scenic stretch of highway than the portion of the Alcan I’m bypassing. The motel owner here said I should expect little, if any traffic – meaning I might go an hour without seeing a car. He also said to make sure I leave here with a full tank of gas. Next services are 8 hours up the road.

___________________

Couple of comments on the photos (and no I can't figure out how to format them any better with this editor). One photo is taken from my motel room, and the mountain in the background is Mt. Rocher Deboule. For those who don't know French (for example, me) that means Rolling Stone Mountain. No, not those guys. It was named by the local miners who kept getting nailed by landslides. It was also the religious centerpoint of the First Nations Gitxsan tribe.

____________________

The statue is of Jean Jacques Caux (known as Cataline), a legendary British Columbia backwoodsman buried near Hazelton. He was known for the brutal size of the loads he could carry, and for his ability to lead large mule trains into the gold mining areas. One source says that part of the legend is that he only changed his clothes once a year (I'm not making this up). I'm guessing he was a single guy.