Alaska Highway Road Trip: Fort Nelson to Liard Hot Springs
Although I have travelled extensively across British Columbia and crossed southern Canada from the Pacific to the Atlantic (and back) several times, this was my first road trip this far north. I was excited to discover this incredible, wild corner of northern BC, with plans to continue across the 60th parallel right into the Yukon Territory. I kicked off this Alaska Highway road trip in Dawson Creek, BC, at Mile 0, then drove through the sweeping foothills and quiet expanses of the first leg to Fort Nelson. But as memorable as those first milestones were, nothing quite prepared me for the dramatic shift that happens once you leave Fort Nelson behind.
This stretch is arguably the crown jewel of any Alaska Highway road trip. Here, the landscape shifts from gentle forests and hills to towering limestone peaks, dramatic canyon passes, and some of British Columbia's most surreal landscapes. Over just over 300 kilometres, drivers climb toward Summit Pass (the highway's highest point at 1,295 metres), and skirt the impossible turquoise waters of Muncho Lake. For this leg of the adventure, I slowed to match the wilderness: two quiet days camping alongside Muncho Lake, followed by two restorative days immersed in the warm mist and ancient forest of Liard Hot Springs Provincial Park.
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Alaska Highway Road Trip: Muncho Lake
Nothing quite prepares your eyes for the first glimpse of Muncho Lake. Set deep within a valley of the Sentinel and Terminal ranges at roughly kilometre 681 (Historical Mile 456), this twelve-kilometre ribbon of water glows a brilliant hue. The lake's entirely natural colour comes from a vivid mix of copper oxide leaching from the surrounding limestone bedrock and glacial rock flour suspended in the water. Long before road builders arrived, the Kaska Dena people recognized its prominence and named it Muncho, which fittingly translates to "big water."
In 1942, when US Army engineers and civilian crews were tasked with punching a wartime supply corridor through northern British Columbia to Alaska, the steep limestone headlands plunging directly into Muncho Lake posed one of the greatest engineering bottlenecks on the entire route. Crews blasted through unforgiving rock faces while clinging to precarious ledges, creating one of the most scenic—and historically difficult—stretches of the highway.
Just before the historic Northern Rockies Lodge, I found a lovely pull-out overlooking the lake’s shoreline. It was the kind of roadside spot you hope for but rarely expect to find open: front-row seats to the turquoise water, backed by rugged grey peaks. I decided right then to spend two nights here and use it as a peaceful base camp for exploring the surrounding area.
The view out my door and window mesmerized me from dawn to dusk, with the water shifting from deep emerald to luminous aqua as the sun moved across the ridges. Despite sitting alongside a famous highway, the pull-out was surprisingly quiet, especially at night. Once the evening traffic dwindled, the silence was absolute—just the faint lap of water against limestone shale and the crisp, clean scent of spruce in the evening air. As I travelled farther north, my daylight hours grew longer. I enjoyed a soft sunset around 23:00 as I prepared my late dinner of fresh salmon I bought from a fisherman along the road.
Hiking the Old Alaska Highway Trail
To stretch my legs and connect with the corridor's history, I drove to Strawberry Flats Provincial Campground to hike the Old Alaska Highway Trail. This 4-kilometre loop follows a preserved section of the original 1942 roadway, bypassed when the highway was straightened and improved in later decades.
The trail was an absolute delight—easy, wide, and thoroughly enjoyable to wander. It offered the perfect blend of easy outdoor recreation and living history before returning to my quiet pull-out.
The Road from Muncho Lake to Liard River
North of Muncho Lake, an easy one-hour drive covers 60 scenic kilometres that feel like a gentle exhale after navigating the rocky limestone corridors. The jagged peaks gradually soften into wide, rolling river valleys, leading down toward the Liard River basin.
This part of the drive demands a watchful eye and an unhurried pace. As the valley opens up, lush roadside ditches and muskeg clearings become prime grazing grounds for wildlife. It is not uncommon to round a bend and encounter small groups of massive wood bison munching unbothered by the shoulder, or to spot a moose or bear wandering across the highway.
Liard Hot Springs Provincial Park
At kilometre 765 (Historical Mile Marker 496), the highway leads to one of North America's most remarkable natural sanctuaries: Liard River Hot Springs Provincial Park. Ranked as Canada's second-largest hot springs, this geothermal wonderland sends mineral-rich water bubbling up from deep faults in the earth at temperatures ranging from a balmy 42°C to a soothing 52°C.
First Nations travellers have used these warm pools as a sacred place for healing, rest, and seasonal gathering for centuries. When construction crews pushed the Alaska Highway through in 1942, they stumbled upon this steamy pocket in the subarctic forest and quickly christened it the "Tropical Valley." Exhausted soldiers and heavy-equipment operators built the earliest rudimentary wooden walkways and bathing cribs right into the mud to soothe their aching muscles after gruelling 12-hour shifts.
I secured a lovely, shaded forest campsite beneath towering spruce and paper birch and decided immediately to stay a couple of days to fully absorb the atmosphere. The park has a wonderfully tranquil, unhurried energy.
Visiting the hot springs begins with a stroll along an elevated wooden boardwalk that cuts across a delicate, warm-water swamp and boreal wetland. Because the ground never fully freezes here, the microclimate supports lush ferns, rare orchids, and subtropical plant species unexpected this close to the Yukon border.
At the end of the boardwalk, rustic change houses, outhouses, and stepped wooden entry platforms lead down into the natural pebble-and-gravel pool bed. Slipping into the clear thermal water after days behind the wheel is pure magic. I enjoyed my lazy float in the river as plumes of steam drifted through the cool northern air.
Just past the main pool, a short side trail leads to the Hanging Gardens, an intricate tufa terrace formed over millennia as calcium carbonate precipitated from the warm water, creating a living tapestry of mosses and delicate flora.
As splendid as the park is, nature ensures paradise comes with a price tag: the mosquitoes here are famously vicious. Warm standing water and dense wetlands create a haven for biting insects that will test even the hardiest camper's patience.
Thankfully, I made a beeline for the park ranger station and bought a fine-mesh mosquito net hat before setting up camp. That simple net hat became the MVP of my time at Liard; it let me stroll the boardwalks, take in the sights, and enjoy every second of the park without spending the entire day swatting at a relentless cloud of bugs.
Final Thoughts
Looking back over these four days, the contrast between Muncho Lake and Liard Hot Springs captures the magic of driving this far north. One day I parked beside a towering, wind-swept limestone pass, staring into cold, hypnotic jade water; the next, I floated in thermal warmth as steam drifted through ancient subarctic forest.
It is easy to treat the Alaska Highway merely as a marathon stretch of asphalt to tick off the bucket list. But lingering at quiet pull-outs, wandering abandoned wartime roadbeds, and letting Liard's minerals soak into road-weary joints is where this wilderness reveals its true heart.
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From here, the road beckons onward toward the 60th parallel. The next leg takes me across the territorial boundary into the Yukon, winding toward Watson Lake and its sprawling forest of storied signs.
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