North to the Yukon... the trench

Day 4, part 2: Prince George, B.C. to Watson Lake, Yukon Territory

The Rocky Mountain Trench is a geologic gem to a VFR pilot making the trek to or from Alaska. While it extends considerably further in either direction, the most easily identifiable portion is that which pilots are most familiar: From Mackenzie B.C., just north of my fuel and customs stop in Prince George, to just southeast of Watson Lake, Yukon. This portion of the trench is a valley straight as an arrow, whose floor is roughly between 2,000-3,000' MSL and peaks on either side relatively uniform at 6,500'-7,000' MSL, with higher ranges further to the east and west. A saddle in the middle of the trench marks a point close to half-way, and divides the Finlay and Katcika river watersheds.

The trench is by no means the only way to get to the Yukon and Alaska, beyond, but it was the route that made the most sense given the weather on my trip. From Prince George, weather was consistent with clouds at about 7,000' MSL as they had been further south, and scattered rain showers. An occluded front was making its way across the mountains inland of southeast Alaska, and was pushing with it a moist, unstable airmass that would make things worse into the night and tomorrow. I had previously ruled-out flying the coast in my single-engine airplane, and making the detour east across the Rockies to pick up the Alcan highway at its traditional starting point of Dawson Creek would add time, an MVFR pass or two, and thunderstorms east of the Rockies. I'd give the trench a try.

Peace Reach, Lake Williston

Departing Prince George I took a compromise route between following the highway north and GPS direct to Mackenzie B.C. As it is in Oregon and Washington, logging is big business here. Things changed as I passed Mackenzie, and started up the trench in earnest first overlying Lake Williston, a very, very large reservoir. Signs of man's influence over the land died out. Not a boat was to be seen anywhere on Lake Williston, and dead trees lined the shores. A few settlements and gravel airstrips dot the lake, but there were long stretches where ditching in it would be the best forced landing option. The lake has a few large arms that run off to either side of the trench.

Mackenzie was also the last place along the route that had 100LL avgas, and the last paved runway along the way. It was roughly 430nm from Prince George to Watson Lake, with 340 of those nautical miles after Mackenzie; though the Mooney has fairly long legs, at some point I thought I'd reach a "point of no return" and be committed to continuing on to Watson Lake to land. After passing Mackenzie I started calculating this point, and decided I'd be just short of Watson Lake and would still be able to turn around and make Mackenzie with a decent fuel reserve. This much fuel made me comfortable, but was downright luxurious compared to folks I met later flying the route southbound in aircraft such as Super Cubs and Maules. Some had to stop half way and add fuel from cans they carried, others had to make Mackenzie, or else. To extend my range, and to combat the expensive fuel I flew the trip at a relatively low power setting - about 8gph, lean-of-peak. I doing about 130 knots over the ground like this, enjoying the economy of the Mooney over top speed.

A curious thing started to appear around this time: Massive swaths of evergreen forest were turned red by what I believe is the mountain pine beetle, a phenomena that I'd continue to see for hundreds of miles further north.
 






Rain showers were frequent, and I got my share of flying through them. Visibility was generally quite good though, with a consistent ceiling and a very good view out the side even with a slightly obscured windscreen.
 

Fort Ware, B.C.

Toward the end of Lake Williston is the largest sign of man in the trench, the settlement of Fort Ware, a First Nations town. I'd heard conflicting things about how friendly the folks there are. One pilot I spoke with further on had to turn around and spend the night, only to be woken by local kids who enjoyed doing donuts on the runway in their pickup trucks at 3 in the morning. Other reports I've read were of very friendly people. I suppose like anywhere else in a collection of humans there are good and bad.

After Ft. Ware things become truly desolate. There was no more logging. No more logging roads. A landmark on the chart said "cabin". I did see a couple of remote cabins in this area. Though I've done a fair amount of cross-country flying, it was still astonishing to step back and think of the ground covered in a half-days trip from Seattle. I've flown across places like Wyoming before and marveled at the desolation. This, and the scenery as I continued north, took that up a notch, and I knew that I was barely scraping the desolation given my trip itinerary.

As I approached the pass that divides the two watersheds in this portion of the trench, a sizable rain shower was moving in. This one had worse visibility than the ones I'd flown through. I could see it moving to cross the trench from 30-40 miles away, and that I wouldn't want to fly through it. Its movement was slow, however, and I passed by with only a few drops on the windscreen. However, it also closed off the route behind me -- at least if I were to stay VFR. After passing the shower I'd periodically turn about 30 degrees to eyeball how it was. I figured, based on the solid rain to the west of it, that once it blocked my path I'd be committed to no turn around and divert. Thankfully the weather was improving to the north, as confirmed with a check-in with flight service near Ft Ware.

Some distance further down is a geographic feature that could lead a scud-running southbound pilot into trouble unless he were on top of things, preferably with a GPS. I turned slightly to look where I'd come from in this photo, with the left wing just ahead of the trench. The valley off to the left (east) looks like the correct path but eventually leads to a dead end.





Eventually the mountains on either side gave their ways to gentle hills and gorgeous lakes. With about 50nm to Watson Lake I had to use GPS & compass, rather than just the dead-nuts-simple straight valley to navigate.







Watson Lake finally came into view -- more the lake and the airport than the town which I barely noticed as I maneuvered to join the pattern. I landed just over three hours from departing Prince George. Despite that I'd only done two legs and six and a half hours' flying, I was beat. The friendly radio operator directed me to the western side of the field where there was a free nice (and free) campground for pilots to use. Aside from the radio operator, in the terminal about a half mile away, I was alone. I set up my tent under the large gazebo to protect from the rain forecast overnight and enjoyed my first night north of 60'. Though it was mid-August, I was still amazed to have plenty of light to walk across the airport at close to 11pm.

Watson Lake airport, Yukon Territory