What a gal, my Diane! After our breakdown and short-term crisis, we were unable to tow our vehicle. Diane slid behind the wheel, put a CD in the player and was ready to drive Jeep the 300 miles or so to Whitehorse in the Yukon Territory.

In Watson Lake, a quaint picturesque wilderness town, we stopped at Bee Jay's and talked with a mechanic who advised us the work we needed would be available in Whitehorse. He even recommended a shop we should visit and to talk with the owner. I thanked him, and we continued our journey.

The highway between Watson Lake and (Milepost) MP-687 was a smooth comfortable ride, much of it along the Rancheria River. Wildlife, especially deer were in abundance. We encountered hilly terrain and sharp curves that provided some spectacular over views of the river valley.

However, between MP-687 and The Continental Divide Lodge at MP-698, heavy construction created delays and flying stones. When we traveled the road, cellphone coverage was spotty at best. Diane and I kept in touch using a pair of two way walkie talkies. I could frequently hear her singing as she answered my call.

At Dawson Peaks Resort & RV Park on Teslin Lake, we rested for the evening and enjoyed a dinner in the lodge. You know, when you are traveling such a long distance like we were, "stuff happens," so why get all worked up over it. There was nothing we could do to improve our lot until we arrived in Whitehorse.

We relaxed, had a nice meal, enjoyed a piece of delicious rhubarb pie, got a good night's sleep and continued in the morning.

We reached Whitehorse the next day. The "Wilderness City" is both a modern city and a boomtown of yesteryear. It's an oasis in the wilderness with a Wal-Mart on the Yukon River, a Mecca trading post for Alaskan travelers. The city was named after the White Horse Rapids, which looked like the mane of a white horse before the river was dammed. It is the capitol and largest city — in fact the only city — in the Yukon Territory.

Whitehorse was a resting center for the Klondike stampeders, a place to dry out and repack before making their way to the gold fields. This was the storied land of Sgt. Preston of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and a major hub in the construction of the Alcan Highway.

Shortly after our arrival, I made calls to Winnebago notifying them of their product failure. The technical advisor was both helpful and concerned about the pictures I sent of the broken base plate. He asked me to send him what was left of the plate by FedEx overnight. A new plate with an experimental new design was being sent to me in a few days.

I also spoke with Blue Ox and ordered a new tow bar. I was assured Winnebago would cover the costs of the new products and labor to get us going again.

Later, we learned from Winnebago the metal in the base plate was not made to specification. Winnebago stated our loss was the third plate reported damaged in the past two months. We were also informed our towing system was not installed properly. They said the tow bar was poorly aligned with the towed vehicle, creating unnecessary and excessive pressure on the base plate. Each time we crossed a frost heave, a downward pressure was exerted on the plate until it ultimately fell apart.

Diane and I spent eight nights near Whitehorse; we had planned three. Our stay allowed us to explore the area, photograph wildlife and take a day trip over White Pass to a favorite town — Skagway.

Hi Country RV Park, just south of Whitehorse, reminded me of our stay in Dawson Peaks — a gathering of northern travelers, telling stories around a camp fire and the restocking of store goods. Once the needed parts arrived from the states, we had our tow bar fixed (and our windshield, too) and were back on the road.

We had already seen some amazing things on our journey, but travelers kept telling us, "You haven't seen anything yet." The Alaska Highway is the roadway of the RV, with retired people of all ages returning for the summer like a bunch of snow geese migrating north to the breeding and fishing grounds.

We found it really exciting to be a part of it.