The route from Prince George to Dawson Creek kept getting more beautiful with rolling hills covered in bright green pine trees. I couldn’t believe how the mountains continued for hours. The road turned into two lanes with a speed limit around 55-65 MPH. There weren’t many cars and they could easily pass me. It was nice not having someone behind me, pressuring me to go faster. I passed a huge, RV convoy of about 25 RVs going south, heading home after the holiday weekend.
I needed to use the restroom so I stopped at a small general store that was housed in a log cabin. It was one of the only places I had seen for a while, but there was only one bike outside. I walked inside and a middle-aged woman was talking to a man in biking clothes who appeared to be in his 30s.
I asked where the restroom was and the woman told me they didn’t have one. I wanted to support this small business since they didn’t have any other customers and I was getting tired. I asked for some coffee and she made me some using a Keurig machine.
While my coffee brewed, the woman asked me where I was headed and I told her I was going to drive the Alaska highway. She said a couple came through there recently saying they were moving to Alaska from Florida to get away from the kids.
The biker continued on his trip and I headed out. About 10 minutes after I left the general store, I came to a gas station, so I pulled over to use the restroom.
I arrived in Dawson Creek just after 4:00 pm. The town is small, so it was easy to find the sign indicating the start of the Alaska highway.
Another RV pulled up with two middle-aged couples, and we all talked about driving the Alaska highway. They were surprised to see I was alone and not in an RV and asked where I was staying. I told them motels and Airbnbs and they seemed curious about it.
I read through the sign posted about the history of the highway. The sign read, “In the early hours of March 9, 1942, the first troop trains of the United States Army Corps of Engineers arrived in Dawson Creek to begin construction of the 2,450 kilometre (1,523 miles) Alaska Highway.”
The sign went on to describe that “Though the highway was completed in record time, it was not without its mishaps. One of the worst tragedies occurred in Dawson Creek in February 1943 when 60,000 cases of dynamite exploded in the centre of town, injuring many but, miraculously taking only five lives.”
I was taking pictures when two women passed me asking if I wanted them to take my picture. I said sure and we chatted about our travel adventures.Click to watch a short video of the scenic drive.
I wanted to cover more ground for the day and Dawson Creek didn’t look like it had many sleeping options. I sat in my car searching for a place to stay and found a Best Western Plus in Fort St. John, about 46 miles away. I got a good deal on Orbitz and decided to stay two nights. After seeing a tick in my bed that morning from my motel in Prince George, I was desperate to have a better place to sleep.
When I pulled into the Best Western, it was a hotel, not a motel and they had an elevator! Finally, I wouldn’t have to carry my suitcase up the stairs. The woman checking me in was very nice and when I got into my room, I saw I had a little kitchenette area, a seating area, and a wonderfully comfortable clean bed. I was in heaven. I laid on the bed, remembering how much I love quality hotels. I could tell that the place was new.
At 10:00 pm, I enthusiastically went to the hotel hot tub. None of my previous accommodations had hot tubs and after two days of mostly driving, my muscles were desperately in need of relaxation.
A couple came in and joined me, Marguerite and Matt. They looked like they were in their early 20s, tall, and both very fit. Matt had light brown hair and Marguerite had long dark hair. They looked like they could be fitness models.
Marguerite goes to school in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. She plays volleyball and said at school, it gets so cold (-40 degrees) that if you’re outside longer than 10 minutes, you’ll get frostbite. When she walks to class, she’s completely covered up except for her eyes and when she arrives, she’ll have frost on her eyelashes.
Matt is from Vancouver but was currently living Tumbler Ridge, British Columbia. He’s a paramedic and said in order to get a better position in the city, you need to do tours in smaller, remote towns first.
Matt, Marguerite, and I talked about the differences in the US and Canada from burgers and beers, to police (there are a lot more police in the US). Apparently, they call Tim Hortons “Timmys” and they love Jack in the Box and wished it was in Canada. I told them my sushi there was terrible and Matt said, “Let me give you some advice. If you’re not near an ocean, don’t ever get sushi.”
We talked about hiking and bears in the area and they told me about Canadian Tire (which is like Home Depot). Matt said if I’m going to hike at all, I should get some bear spray or a pen thing that shoots a firework above the bear’s head to scare it away.
The hot tub closed at 11:00 pm so we all got out. They had a 5:00 am flight to catch in the morning. I was happy that I met Matt and Marguerite. I hadn’t had much interaction with people in the last several days and being a “people person,” I crave connection. I jumped into my plush bed content with my trip so far. I was feeling more confident talking to strangers. The reason I love travel so much is getting the chance to meet new people. Sure, the sites are beautiful, but it’s the people and their stories that fascinate me.