In mid-August the time felt right to head back. Wildfires threatened the edges of our return route, gray skies loomed overhead, and stretches of road work threw muddy streams of grime on our vehicles:
Although a message sign warned us a wildfire was burning ahead, we passed through smoke but saw no flames:
We could see how earlier fires had transformed thriving spruce into stalks, thin stands of what used to be, and we didn’t want to be around if it happened again:
Soon the skies were clear of smoke and rain, and we took in the views one last time:
We glimpsed a mother moose shooing her two calves into the woods along the road — she was quicker than I could be with my camera, but the memory is sometimes better than any photo, right?
After a long day of driving, we settled into a spot on a nice pull-out in the Yukon Territory, only to spot a “No Overnight” sign when we took the trash to the dumpster. Back in the rig we climbed and on down the road we went.
As it ended up, we slept in the shadow of the world’s largest gold mining pan:
Ah, the life of a full-time RVer means you never know what you’ll come across next.