Getting to Atlin, BC - by John Plaxton

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This is a town you must visit. Although warned by the gas attendant at Jake's Corner that the gravel road might be slippery during rain, we decided to take our chances. At 50-70 km/hr there was absolutely no danger, and bumps and construction were non-existent. However, washboard occasionally set our stove a-rattling. At the Tagish turnoff to Atlin, severe vibration released the catch on Liz's overhead spice rack, filling our cab with the aroma of basil and the kitchen floor with bags and bottles that could have come from an ancient alchemist's shelves. Twenty kms down this muddy road I looked out our back window. Or at least I tried to, but couldn't. All I could see was a brown opaqueness with occasional silver vertical wiggly lines. The rain was intermittent but the overcast was constant. Yet the scenery was spectacular. We saw clouds being formed as moist air was forced up and over mountain peaks. We saw a mountain (or perhaps just a cliff of solid rock, we couldn't see the top) emerge from wisps of fog and low hanging clouds. We watched other clouds change a bright, colourful scene to ghostly grey. Carpets of fog and mist rose and settled over lakes, revealing and hiding islands of black spruce. Next day the mists and clouds disappeared by noon, and a whole new vista of mountains and glaciers and colours revealed itself to our awestruck eyes and minds. We have had the best of two worlds. I wish drivers wouldn't tuck their vehicles close in behind our motorhome, out of sight of my mirrors. (Fortunately, the driver behind us had quick reactions.) After 60 km of painting the lower half and backside of our RV in natural muddy colours, and immediately before advancing onto smooth blacktop, I stopped and started backing down a side road to a small creek. As the vehicle started to slide sideways I decided this might not be such a great place to wash our vehicle, slipped the transmission into Drive and, spewing clumps of mud from the traction treads of snow tires, slowly created a lengthy pair of 12 cm ruts back to the highway. A few kilometres of asphalt later, we pulled into another side road and stopped by the banks of the Fourth of July Creek. Liz made supper while I spent forty minutes washing off the mud, using dozens of pots of water and a soft, long-fibre brush. If only I had brought along a battery operated pump, I could have attached the car-cleaning brush to our drinking-water hose and saved those many toe-soaking trips to the creek. Being so sandy, the mud came of easily. It just required several splashes of water for each small area. Wisely, I wore my rubberized rain jacket and kept my clothes spatter-free. This morning I had spent an hour washing the motorhome, using lots of biodegradable car-wash soap and lake water. My bottle of wax turned out to be a second bottle of foaming liquid soap. Nevertheless, until then, I hadn't realized how light and bright the painted aluminum siding was. I mean, this vehicle almost shone. It looked great except for the highest 35 cm which I couldn't reach. But the silt-mud-brown, antique-brass, and off-white colours go well together. At least I think so. Remember to visit Atlin as you travel the Alaska Highway, regardless of the weather.