"There is some of the most beautiful mountain country I have ever seen between Mileposts 350 and 450 - mountain streams, rivers and two of the clearest emerald green lakes - Summit and Muncho.” That is how I started my journal on June 26, 1967. I went on to say, “…a man at a gas station by the lake said Muncho was 800 feet deep.” That hundred miles is still one of my favorite. 
Milepost 477 is a must stop - Liard Hot Springs. When I passed in 1967 my face was still tender and I did not possess a positive attitude toward adventure - being I was yet operating in security mode. There is a nice camp ground at Liard and a parking area at the trailhead. A boardwalk weaves its way across a warm water swamp ending at the Hot Spring. There is a dressing room and several sets of stairs into the pool - ver
y relaxing.That night I camped at Milepost 632, just east of Watson Lake. “My camp site tonight is another government one. This is a large, open area with tables and fire pits distributed around the edge. There is an indoor cooking house in the center… A small stream runs by the camp with very clear water. I made up my mind that I was going to wash and shave - no matter what. The dust was bad today. My face was n
o longer sore, but with a three-day beard, peeling skin, and the dust, I couldn’t stand myself any longer. After I ate, I put a pan of water on to heat, and with a sudden thought, grabbed a bar of soap, went down to the stream and washed my hands and arms. It felt so good that, after shaving, I went back, took off my boots and waded about in the clear cool stream. Now I feel like a new man.”
o longer sore, but with a three-day beard, peeling skin, and the dust, I couldn’t stand myself any longer. After I ate, I put a pan of water on to heat, and with a sudden thought, grabbed a bar of soap, went down to the stream and washed my hands and arms. It felt so good that, after shaving, I went back, took off my boots and waded about in the clear cool stream. Now I feel like a new man.”
I stayed at Milepost 968 on June 27th, about 50 miles past Whitehorse. From that point it was 250 miles to the border and paved road thereafter. The highway on the Alaskan side was smooth, like gliding on a magic carpet, and so refreshing I couldn’t stop.
The official end of the Alcan is Fairbanks, thou construction started from Delta Junction, about 100 miles east. The Parks Highway, which connects Fairbanks to Anchorage, did not exist in 1967. One had to take the more circuitous route via the Richardson Highway out of Delta Junction . I turned south toward Anchorage at Tok Junction on the Glenn Highway. The Glenn crosses the Richardson at Glennallen and goes on into Anchorage. I didn’t stop until I got there.
It was raining when I entered Anchorage at 11:00pm on June 28th. I was tired and miserable so I spent thirteen precious dollars for a hotel room on Gambell street. I had $92 in my pocket the next day. I rented a room and went job hunting.
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