The journey north begins with a single pothole

526 kilometres to Dawson City, and probably, honestly, at least 526 potholes. I have made 2,500km drives down to Vancouver that felt shorter. This wasn’t my favourite drive, but the highway views of endless rolling mountains and frosted forests were beautiful and cleansing of the near constant pothole swerving, and frost-heaves-out-of-nowhere anxieties.

A couple weeks ago, we spent a few days up in Dawson, wandering the wooden sidewalks, gorgeous forest trails, and breathtaking vistas from up above the city. It was a quiet little retreat filled with curiosity and the cosiest evenings of dinners in atmospheric little hole in the wall restaurants, and card games, snacks and tea back at our hotel on snowy nights.