Buffalo Jump, Big Beaver & Best Buns In The Galactic Cluster

Now that should get someone’s attention!

We’ve left the U.S. and are driving through the country of our best friends to the north, Canada.  After spending about 10 days in Northern Idaho, visiting Duane’s mom and camping on our friends’ Ted & Donna’s property, getting some much needed work done on the fifth wheel, Maggie having surgery to remove a thorn in her foot, and having fantastic visits with all our good friends in the area, we hit the road to travel to Alaska. Internet is sparse to none, and expensive at that, so this post won’t be published until we reach civilization once again.

Here's Maggie sporting her pretty pink booty after surgery

I said in a previous post that it’s the journey, not the destination that matters, but when we were looking at our trusty “Milepost Magazine” we found a historic site we were drawn to. Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump, in southern Alberta. Just for the name itself, we had to go.  It didn’t seem too far out of our way, maybe 30-40 miles at the most. This time it was all about the destination. We were only a few miles off the main highway when the road to Head-Smashed-In turned to gravel. 

Dust billowed up behind us for what we found out was 37 kilometers until just before reaching the site of the buffalo jump it turned back to a paved road once again. What we later found out is if we had taken the road from the opposite direction, which was about the same distance, we would have avoided the gravel altogether. However, it was beautiful, high plains country that we wouldn’t have seen if we changed routes.

Those cliffs the actually jump site. Years of erosion have worn it down. It use to be a 1,000ft drop.

Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump is the most well preserved, largest known archeological site in the world where Indians, for what is estimated 6,000 years, stampeded buffalo over the cliffs, to their death. Today it is a World Heritage Site. There is a beautiful state of the art interpretive center. Some of the First Nation People working there are decedents of the very Indians who took part in the hunts. They show a film, reenacting what a hunt would have been like. The preparations were well thought out and everything had to be just right. The People created long lanes, using piled up rocks and branches sticking up to look like trees on the high plains. Through studying their behavior, the Indians learned the buffalo would see the stones and trees as solid barriers and not try to break thru them, thus running through the created pathway.  After rubbing buffalo scent on a “chosen” warrior from the tribe, wearing buffalo skins over his head and body would work his way into the herd. Several others wore wolf skins over their bodies and tracked the buffalo from the edges of the heard. The ‘chosen’ young man would make his way to the front of the herd. Timing was precise. This lead warrior would walk ahead and make the sound of a wounded calf. Once the herd was all making their way to investigate the ‘wounded calf’, the other tribesmen would start running behind them and the ‘wolves’ along side. This would eventually get the buffalo into a complete frenzy and they would start moving. Other tribesmen, women and children who had been hiding along the lanes would stand up and wave robes and blankets as shields, causing even more of an uprising of the buffalo. The warriors would run, the buffalo would run, leading the unsuspecting buffalo to the cliff, and ultimately to their death below. The young warrior chosen for the job of honor, to act as the wounded buffalo, would run fast and then veer off the path just before reaching the cliff himself. The Indians would then give thanks to their Creator for a successful hunt. Nothing was wasted.  They’d process the enormous animals and the village could live for months off their good fortune. It all sounds quite gruesome, yet the planning and ingenuity the People possessed was astounding. The archeological findings there show the bones to go down as far as 10 meters into the ground, dating back thousands of years and as recent as the 1800’s.

The name, Head-Smashed-In was given because history tells of a young boy who wanted to watch the buffalo fall off the cliff from what he thought was a great vantage point, at the base of the cliff back up against the mountain. As the buffalo fell and started piling up, there were so many that the boy was crushed between the dead animals and the cliff. When the tribe finally dug him out, his head was smashed in and so the name came to be.

It seems most towns have some claim to fame. We’ve gone out of our way to see with our very own eyes attractions like The World’s Tallest Wind Chime, The World’s Largest Jackalope, The World’s Largest Truck, etc. Beaverlodge, Alberta wanted a draw to their small town, so they erected The World’s Largest Beaver in the town’s cultural center. The beaver is very symbolic to the Canadian People. At least that’s what the sign says. This 15 foot tall beaver, perched on a 19 foot log is hard to miss. We could see it for blocks as we drove into town. There’s a huge parking lot where visitors that choose to, can stop, stretch their legs and admire the extremely large mammal. I guess our names can be added to that list. We’re suckers for roadside attractions.

Had to stop for the World's Largest Truck too!

Our drive north until now has been a lot of fun. So far, we’ve seen bighorn sheep, coyotes, one scrawny moose and a black bear, which could have cared less about us trying to get a picture of it. Even though we’ve driven The Alaskan Highway many times, this trip is a slower pace, stopping to see those things we’ve never stopped for before. We’re enjoying the journey. It really is wild, beautiful country that few people will ever see.  We’ve visited with folks at rest stops along the way.  There always seems to be camaraderie among those making the long drive between Alaska and The Lower 48. People are generally interested in finding out your story, where you’re heading and where you’ve been. Just today Duane talked to exchange students from Germany, met Peter, a man on holiday with his wife from Germany, and people from various towns in the U.S.  We became friends with Pam and Warrick from Australia and saw them in several towns along the highway. We even met folks from our hometown of Willow, Alaska! It really is a small world, isn’t it?

Our stop for tonight is a lodge/RV park in Interior BC, on the Tetsa River. The woman running the place is a very friendly, yet a no nonsense kind of gal, with a sign above the desk that reads “No Sniveling”.  “No Sniveling” is also on their gas pump outside, where unleaded fuel is sold for $1.75 per liter. 

Their signs, which we’ve been seeing for miles, claim The Best Cinnamon Buns In The Galactic Cluster. How could we pass up something as out of this world as that? However, their ad also says they have electricity, but they asked us not to use too much or it will overload their system, plus they shut it down at 10pm anyway. They advertise WiFi, but warned us not to download anything or it will kick them offline. They offer showers but have no hot water. And they asked us to park sharing a space with another big fifth wheel because it’s the only site with a water line that’s hooked up.  It remains to be seen just how cosmic the cinnamon buns actually turn out to be.  

 Our campsite for the night

Tetsa Lodge

This lodge is typical of what we find in the Far North. Amazing pioneers, working with what is available to them in this harsh land, providing services to weary travelers who make their way along this long road. Many of these lodges, like Tetsa River Lodge, have been here since the Alaska Highway was being built during WWII. Tetsa Lodge is run by a third generation family and it’s the life they know and love. Fuel is trucked in from hundreds of miles away and in some cases lodges are run by generator power only. Wood stoves still warm the insides. In a lot of ways, not much has changes except the road itself. The real pioneers are those who came before us, who battled their way over basically a muddy trail all those years ago to settle in this wilderness. We simply follow in their steps.

So goes our migration to Alaska. Good times, fascinating people, interesting wildlife, and as always, a great adventure.

 Muncho Lake area

 Caribou, caring less that the camper is passing 

 Grizzly Bear 

Black Bear

Stone Sheep