Stewart, Hyder, and the Salmon Glacier
Canadian Rockies Road Trip, Day 14 | Stewart-Cassiar Highway to Stewart, BC | Crossing into Hyder, Alaska | Driving to & Camping at the Salmon Glacier | June 2023
Today was the day we’d been looking forward to, possibly the most for this whole trip. But let’s be real, it was a day we’ve been looking forward to ever since leaving Alaska in September 2019, and a day we’ve dreamed of since we first got married and started planning trips together. Today we would complete our life goal of driving to Alaska! We wasted no time in leaving our campsite at Derrick Lake and returning to the Stewart-Cassiar Highway. The morning was starting off gloomy, which made us a little nervous that our 24 hours around Stewart and Hyder would be plagued by bad weather like our time in Jasper National Park was. But as we drove, we couldn’t deny our excitement: the misty forest; the low-hanging clouds hiding all but the occasional peek of a peak. It felt exactly how arriving in Alaska should. And if there’s anything we learned during our first trip to Alaska, it’s that it’s good luck if it rains on your first day in the Last Frontier!
We took the Stewart-Cassiar Highway 37 up to Meziadin Junction, then turned onto 37A. The 60 km drive to Stewart had so many exciting features along the way — Meziadin Lake, snow capped peaks, tall waterfalls, and Bear Glacier right on the side of the road! The clouds hovered over the mountains and the skies remained overcast for much of the drive, but as we neared Stewart the sun started to peek through and we could finally see blue skies!
When we arrived in Stewart, we stopped at the visitor center for information and to go for a short walk. We walked an interpretive boardwalk trail with Charlotte and read signs about the plants, birds, and wildlife in the area. Supposedly there are a couple of bears that like to hang out in the marsh area here.
After that, Curtis went to the visitor center to inquire about what we could do and where we could camp or boondock. He got some information about hiking both on the BC and AK side, kayaking in the Portland Canal, ideas of where we could park overnight for free, and of course, the Salmon Glacier scenic drive. While we were making our way West, we had been closely following updates about the Salmon Glacier road. We really wanted to drive up to the summit, but at this point the website still said that the road was only open up to the toe because of the snow. Curtis asked about it at the visitor center and they confirmed that. We were disappointed to have come all this way just to hear that, but we were still determined to make the most of today and see as much of the area that we could.
With that, it was time for our monumental moment: officially crossing the border into Hyder, Alaska, completing our goal of driving to Alaska, and Charlotte entering in to her 50th state! This moment was made exceptionally easy because there are no customs to enter into the US at this point, only to get back into Canada. We entered Alaska, then pulled over and got some pictures with the sign and boundary marker. Just crossing the border was enough to make this a great day for us, but little did we know it was about to get even better!
Hyder advertises itself as being the “Friendliest Ghost Town in Alaska,” and has very few residents. Unfortunately we were driving through on a Sunday very early in the season, so the few businesses here were closed today. We made one stop at the Fish Creek Wildlife Observation Site, which was free to visit, but only because the main attraction wasn’t there. Between July and September, this is a common place to see bears fishing for salmon, and the trail is made “safe” by being a boardwalk with a fence and rails over the river. Dogs aren’t allowed, so Curtis just got out quickly to make sure there weren’t any bears, then we continued our drive up the Salmon Glacier route.
The road follows Fish Creek back into a valley, then starts going up into the mountains. We crossed back into British Columbia at another border crossing with no customs or agents — because of this, we’re able to say that on this entire vacation we crossed the border 6 times but only had to go through customs 3 times!
Overall, the road was in much better condition than I had read online. I had heard that it was filled with potholes, but we really didn’t have any problems. Maybe it gets worse throughout the summer as the snow melts and drains into the valley. Driving through the mining area was a little confusing because there were several “No Trespassing” signs, but we figured out the right roads to take around it. Thankfully there wasn’t a lot of activity here today, probably because it was a weekend.
As we drove higher, we got better views of the snowy peaks above us and across the valley, and saw so many waterfalls along the road from snow melt. However, looking downhill was a bit scarier, as we could see so many trees bent or fallen, maybe from avalanches or rock slides. We had been told we could boondock along the road, but seeing the trees like that didn’t make that seem safe.
We arrived at the lookout for the toe of the Salmon Glacier, where we had been told was the end of the road. There was a large snow bank blocking half the road with a couple snowmobiles lying around, but oddly enough there weren’t other vehicles or people here, and we had seen other cars heading this way. Still, we didn’t know how much further we could drive, and didn’t want to get in a situation where we had to turn around in a precarious position. And so we parked on the side of the road and got out to admire as much of this iconic glacier as we could see.
We were quite a ways away, but the view was still incredible, just giving us a glimpse of how grand the full glacier really was. The whole valley echoed from the sound of waterfalls all around. We walked up the road, Charlie played in snow a little, and we saw one of the waterfalls up close. But besides the incredible views, the mosquitoes and gnats were absolutely horrendous right here. We wanted to stay outside, but we were constantly swatting at bugs, which was also making us second guess the option of boondocking here. The views were great, sure, but was it worth it if we couldn’t be outside?
As we were making our way back to the car, we saw a couple other cars coming down from further up the road. One of them stopped to say hi, and we asked how far they were able to make it. They told us that they drove all the way to the summit and that the road was fine the whole way. That was all we needed to hear — for a moment, the doubt flickered in my mind asking “What if something happens to us or the van?” but I immediately shut that thought down because I knew this would be worth it. We hopped back in the van and continued the drive up. Just as the guy had said, the road continued on just fine, all the way up to the main lookout.
The entire drive from the toe to the summit was incredible, following the glacier the entire way. When we arrived at the lookout, our minds were blown from the view, the grandness and the size of it all. We agreed right away to scrap all our other ideas, this was exactly where we wanted to be for the rest of the day, and where we wanted to sleep tonight. We got out of the van and wandered around, taking in the view in each direction. Miraculously, the mosquitoes that had plagued us at the toe lookout were nonexistent up here!
Curtis: It was still only early afternoon and we knew that being this far North, and this close to the Summer Solstice, the sun would be up quite late. So I decided that this was my opportunity to try and climb a peak. I didn’t know which one, but I knew that if the view from the lookout was this good, the view from higher up had to be even better.
I looked at the ridge behind the viewpoint and pointed at a short peak and a taller peak and told Jess that I would try to go to the tall one, but would probably stick with the shorter one. I then packed a day bag, my snowshoes, and crampons and set off into the snow. Snowshoeing in June – that’s a first for me. I made my way up the first ridge which was quite steep, but my excitement carried me up easily, and I was right; the views are better higher up – but what if I could get higher?
I came down a gully between the two ridges, angling towards the North and the higher peak. The snow was still quite deep, and I went up the other slope jumping between snow fields and rocky outcrops. And then the rocky outcrops disappeared, and there was only snow going up to the ridge – and this is when I realized how deceptive distance can be when you can see so far, and I decided that I probably should not attempt the higher peak.
But I was determined to reach A Peak, and so I started the long slog up the ridge and never ending snow to the shorter peak off to my right. Because of the slope of the ridge, I could not see beyond it. And because of the lack of features, progress felt interminably slow. It reminded me considerably of hiking on Mauna Loa. I dodged a small rain shower and made slow but steady progress and ever so slowly the surrounding mountains started making themselves known. First even taller peaks to the North, then the rest of the valley to South. And finally the opposite side of the ridge to the East. I was as high as I could get and had unlimited views all around. Snow capped peaks, deep valleys, and, above all, the glacier front and center. I somehow thought that I would be able to see the ocean, but was quite off on my geography as the ocean was over 70 miles away on the Portland Canal. After the fact, I learned that this peak was called Mt. Dilworth.
Satisfied with my hike I started the hike back, trying to follow the first ridge back down. This turned out to be a bit more than I bargained for, and I had to glissade down several steep sections. Along the way, I saw a snowmobile coming up the way I had come as well as what looked like a blue snow-ice cave across the valley from where I was. But I was tired and ready to have dinner, so I skipped the cave and continued down the ridge and valley eventually retracing my steps back to the overlook.
Jess: While Curtis was hiking, I walked Charlotte around, and she greeted the other people coming and going from the lookout. We eventually made our way up on top of a boulder, and then sat there together for a while. Charlotte may not have been able to see it, but she spent the whole time facing out towards the glacier, sniffing the air, savoring the moment. I couldn’t shake the feeling that she somehow knew what lay before her.
The rain shower that Curtis somehow avoided came our way, so we retreated to the car. Charlotte napped on the bed, and I tried to read, distracted by the view through our windshield. When Curtis returned, we made dinner, then walked Charlotte around again and sat outside some more. I wanted to try snowshoeing as well, so we put Charlotte back in the bed, then strapped on our snowshoes and started making our way up the ridge. It was after 8 PM at this point, but we guessed that we still had an hour and a half before the sun would even sink below the mountains.
Our hike was considerably slower than Curtis’, and my goal was simply to get up to the first ridge. The snow had become softer with the afternoon and evening sun shining on it for so long, making our feet slide with each step. We carefully planned our route, zigzagging up the slope, until we made it to the ridge, myself completely out of breath. To be fair, the last real hike I did that was walking at normal speed and not Charlotte’s pokey speed was at Camel’s Hump at the beginning of April while she was in surgery. We stayed and admired the view, and Curtis pointed out the direction that he had hiked. Then we made our trek down, sliding even more, and doing a little glissading on the wet snow.
When we made it back to the van, we changed and set our now wet clothes out to dry. By this point the only people here were the ones spending the night, so we joined our camp neighbors for conversation, snacks, and drinks. There was a couple from the Netherlands, a National Park Ranger from Utah on her way to her job in Alaska, and “On Her Bike” – a Polish-Australian traveler/blogger/vlogger. All three were eventually going to make it to Big Alaska and we were the tiniest bit jealous. We shared stories and adventures, and talked about a very wide range of topics. It was so enjoyable that we barely noticed the time slipping by and it wasn’t until the sun slipped behind the mountains at almost 11 pm that we realized how late it was. And after taking sunset pictures we still stayed up until it started to get dark well after midnight.
With the light diminishing, we all returned to our respective homes: our van, a truck, a Subaru, and a tent – but not before we noticed the dozen or so mice scurrying in and out from under the tent fly. This socialization was exactly the type that we envisioned when we built the van. We always like private, dispersed camping, but there was something so fulfilling and energizing about talking to like-minded people and learning about their experiences. We hope to have many more encounters like this while on the road!
By coincidence, I’m posting this over a month later, on our 10 year wedding anniversary. We both agree that this day, the day we arrived in Alaska and camped at the Salmon Glacier overlook is one of our favorites we’ve shared together, both this year and out of the 10 we’ve been married. I think part of that is because it represents the culmination of what we’ve prayed for, dreamed of, and worked towards during our first decade of marriage, all throughout our 20s. While I do believe we’re blessed and very fortunate to be able to build a van, take a trip like this and have these experiences, I know that we also worked so hard and waited a long time to share these moments, and this day was a long time coming.
10 years ago when I walked down the aisle, I knew nothing of van life, I didn’t give a thought to planning hypothetical trips, and probably didn’t even have a travel bucket list. All I knew was that I wanted to spend the rest of my life enjoying every moment I was given to spend with Curtis. I think I would have been thrilled to know that 10 years later, we’re doing just that, but in a way I never would have imagined.
With all that being said, as we enter into our second decade of marriage, I want to take these thoughts with me: Good things are worth working towards and waiting for. A great marriage is worth cherishing and pouring all our love and attention into. And life isn’t always about taking your dream trip, seeing glaciers and hiking to higher peaks, it’s about enjoying all the moments in between…and that’s what makes the bigger moments even more satisfying.
