We’ll be back.

The Golden Circle Route is the stuff legends are made of. It’s an epic road trip that makes you want to drive on forever. Our first stop was in Kluane National Park. We spent 3 nights in a rustic cabin in the woods. “Rustic” meaning no electricity, no running water, a hole in the ground that serves as a fridge and a moose that suddenly comes trampling through your backyard. Every moment of the day, mosquitos were lurking in the bushes nearby, waiting for the moment you set foot outside to turn the porch into an active missile attack zone. 

The cabin was our home base from which we explored the park and the side jump further up North to Sheep Mountain. We hiked for miles and miles through a bigger than life decor under a blistering sun, all the while enjoying podcasts which we put on speaker to give the bears a heads-up. “Chill bear! Us humans are not planning to enter your critical space bubble. Be cool now.” Listening to the soothing baritone voice of Lex Fridman interviewing Baskar Sunkara on the virtues of socialism also helped to calm down our own nerves. And it certainly was an improvement over my singing. But we were a bit conflicted about the noise and this “be bear aware” approach. On the one hand, we really wanted to meet a bear. But we were also increasingly suffering from “bearanoia”. Doubly so after we had spotted an impressive black specimen gorging on dandelions by the side of the road. The sheer bulk of the beast and the casual speed with which it was ambling along made us question the adequacy of our bear spray should the situation demand it. 

We were also increasingly worried about the scorching sun. A true heat wave was beating down on the boreal forests where the spruce-beetle-infested dead trees stood standing among the healthy ones like so many kindling sticks, waiting for the spark. When the spark did come, all hell broke loose. The savage beauty of the apocalyptic wildfire stopped all traffic which consisted of a couple of SUV’s, RV’s, and some motorcycle boys and girls. Safely from a distance, we all stood gazing in horror and awe. We could feel the destructive rage of nature in our very bones. We must have acted like Stone Age folks – the kind that had binoculars and zoom lenses – transfixed by the flames and with imaginings of The End of the World as we know It. It was a mesmerizing experience in a very disturbing way. 

That’s also where we met our fellow compatriots from my hometown Kortrijk. Out of 44 teams they had just finished second place in the international Yukon River Quest Race. “The World’s toughest and Alluring Marathon Paddling Race – 715 km / 444 miles from Whitehorse to Dawson City, Yukon “. They told us they had trained on the Leie which had the great advantage of never freezing over. During one of their training sessions – using a self-built flax canoe – they conquered the Leie’s 130 km from source to mouth in one day. We were totally fascinated by their story. 

Back in Juneau, there were 3 days left before our son had to get on his plane back home. We barely managed to escape the cruise ship hordes at the melting Mendenhall Glacier which clearly had seen better days. Next day, a 4-passenger floatplane put us down at the Pack Creek Bear Sanctuary. After hours of keeping watch in the sultry heat, we were startled by a mama bear who suddenly emerged from the forest with her two frolicking cubs in tow. I could barely suppress my oohs and aahs of excited endearment. It looked like a replay of the Garden of Eden when animals could still speak. In the meantime, Ramses was struggling to get his zoom to focus through the vibrating layers of hot air as if we were on an African safari. I loved this heat shimmer. It added even more magic to an already enchanting scene. At 3 PM, we reluctantly headed back to the plane, leaving mama bear splashing in the creek. When the rangers radioed in that she had caught her first salmon of the season, we all cheered. Because we had been told that the salmon were late. 

On the very last day of Ramses’ stay, a hike to the summit of Mt Roberts brought on the apotheosis in the form of goats on steroids, trotting through a patch of left over winter show. 

We are now by ourselves again and slowly shaking off the melancholy mood that’s hanging over us. We want to head down south, before the weather turns. We are not quite sure yet what new horizons are beckoning. A good thing that there is still plenty of time to figure it out.