The ferry crossing at Dawson City was an unexpected adventure. A small cat tractor is kept on each bank to add gravel to the landing area as necessary. An unfinished landing made of gravel made us wary. Driving on went smoothly but as we neared the far bank we could see the tractor moving gravel and trying to smooth the new surface. The first car off bogged down and had to twist to clear the ramp. The workers flung aside a couple of the bigger boulders and reset the planks that bridged the drop at the end of the ramp. We moved off very slowly in four wheel drive. The jack at the hitch dug in and scraped for a heart stopping moment but we cleared and rejoiced.
The Top of the World highway was wonderful and very unique. Drop offs on both sides, views for miles in all directions. The border station sits alone on the mountain top. Bob and Helen had to be fingerprinted and iris scanned! American overkill running rampant.
The village of Chicken arrives like an oasis after the long run across the mountains. They sell everything "chicken". Joan bought a ceramic, Helen got a "chicken" T-shirt as did I, and Bob bought a collector pin. I had chicken for lunch! Apparently they called the place CHICKEN because no one at the time knew how to spell ptarmigan!
A spirited discussion about the state of the roads happened when we reached the Tok RV camp. "The road on the Canadian side is really bad!" our RV manager said. "Couldn't be as bad as the American side of the Top of the World," I said. "Well... it's bad," she repeated. Someone else mentioned our next stretch to Fairbanks as being "BAD!" We never did figure that one. It was excellent. "Learn not to believe all you are told," Joan said.
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