We spent a couple of days in the Beaver Creek area, as it is my home town. Beaver Creek is historical mile 1202 and where construction crews made the final connection of the Alaska Highway on October 28, 1942.
South of Beaver Creek is Snag, which boasts the record-low temperature for North America, from February 3, 1947: −81.4 F (-63C).
According to Wikipedia, Snag was first settled during the Klondike Gold Rush. Later it was the site of a military airfield, established as part of the Northwest Staging Route, which closed in 1968. In 1947, the village of Snag boasted a population of 8 to 10 natives and fur traders. An additional staff of 15-20 airport personnel — meteorologists, radio operators, aircraft maintenance men — lived at the airport barracks. My dad, Jack Stalberg, worked in Snag in the early 1950s. He met my mother, Betty Armstrong, at Destruction Bay.
Looking west from the Alaska Highway, headed for Snag
Snag Lake along the Alaska Highway
View from Snag road, looking west towards Nutzotin Mountains - June 2008
The road was in much better condition in 1993 when we had last visited Snag with my dad. It was also Dad's last visit to the area. This year we were thankful to have 4-wheel drive.
There is not much left to see in Snag. I thought I was going senile as things weren't where they were supposed to be; I later learned the federal government cleaned the site in the 1990s. The airfield is well overgrown and no longer usable. I'm thinking my last landing and takeoff there was in the early-1970s.
The only remaining building from the Snag Airbase
A few miles past Snag is an abandoned First Nations village.
A few buildings remain, as well as a cemetery where I recognized many names.
Log cabin at the First Nations village
Near Snag Creek where it joins the White River
We decided to drive towards the Alaska border, although did not plan to cross the border.
Looking west from the Alaska Highway between Beaver Creek and the Alaska border
Looking west from the Alaska Highway between Beaver Creek and the Alaska border
When I was young, we used to visit a fellow named Johnny Hoffman. His cabin was about 15 miles north of our place along the Alaska Highway. I always thought his cabin was a magical place as it had no power and no running water. He used kerosene lanterns and hauled his water by the bucket from the creek that ran nearby. His one-room cabin was always cozy, even in the middle of winter.
After Mr. Hoffman died, another friend assumed ownership of his property. In recent years, a creek flooded and undermined the cabin, which now sits on blocks.
Johnny Hoffman cabin, just off the Alaska Highway near the Alaska border
Wild rose at Johnny's cabin
Beaver Creek was the end of the Alaska Highway for us this trip. We were here to spread my Dad's ashes on the longest day of the year and refresh my memories of growing up in this small community. Now it was time to continue exploring the Yukon.
We planned to visit Dawson City. Taking the Top of the World Highway via Alaska would have been the shorter option. However, our 19-year-old unvaccinated cat was with us and we decided to not attempt crossing the Alaska border without her papers in order.
Therefore we headed south again, over the worst section of the Alaska Highway -- Beaver Creek to Destruction Bay.