May 27, 2025

Shadhäla (Champagne) turn off to Haines Junction

I’m glad I ducked into the woods for the evening because when I crawled out of the tent the tree tops were rocking! It was going to be another wind-kissed ride.

Today’s route started on the second generation highway for about 10 miles. It was a section of the old highway that cut through a First Nation village now by-passed by the super highway. Champagne or Shadhäla (Southern Tutchone name meaning “sunny mountains”) was all but decimated by disease brought by the U.S. Army when the AlCan was built in 1942. It’s located in a beautiful valley and served as a major crossroads for coastal First Nations people going north, west and east. It’s difficult to reflect on this time in history and the Army’s role in abruptly changing North American indigenous lives forever. We are who we are.

Shadhäla is definitely better off now that the main highway goes around the village. There are some reminders, however, of its previous life as a town on the AlCan. The hubcap totem poles, the antique highway sign, and the rather large cemetery (not photographed). I heard some tractors at work, a few dogs barking, and saw the site of the 1950s and 1960s rodeo grounds. The Southern Tutchone became expert horsemen after the Klondike gold rush, a seven-day walk to Whitehorse at the time. In Whitehorse I saw old rodeo photographs with people from all over in attendance, participating and watching. It was a nice diversion to be able to ride this narrower road and enjoy it as another very wide bicycle path with no traffic.

Returning to the buzz of the AlCan, the Kluane Mountains began to demand my attention the closer I got to them. The wind kept at it, but those mountains! I stopped regularly to refuel and stretch. Each time I restarted, the views grew more and more captivating. It was hard pedaling, but worth it. Haines Junction is situated in a most beautiful setting, the entrance to Kluane National Park.

In March 1982, Kathy and I passed through Haines Junction on our way to Denali Park. We were recruited to drive a fire truck pumper from San Mateo to the Park via Seattle and the Alaska Marine Highway (ferry). The pumper was an older piece of surplus equipment that the Park concessionaire (our employer) purchased and wanted to have on hand since the Park Service and local fire emergency services were inadequate. It lacked a heater, but we didn’t care. After driving off of the ferry in Haines, Alaska, both of us remember the bald eagles perched by the hundreds in the roadside conifers, and the beautiful snow-covered landscape once we got away from the ocean influences. The long and the short of the story is that the truck threw a piston somewhere near Tok. We got a ride to the Park which is where we started our life together.