How craft and care transformed a Yukon campground
“Every minute we can find, we’re gonna use it to improve quality or customer experience. It’s like so deep in our DNA because we have been trained by the best in the world.”
Steve Berger-Husson



Steve Berger-Husson emerges from the silver Airstream trailer that serves as his restaurant kitchen, wearing a well-worn grey Columbia sweater and already grinning before we’ve even shaken hands. A sign nearby reads: “Exercise Makes You Look Better Naked. So Does Wine. Your Choice.” It’s the kind of cheeky humour that punctuates Caribou RV Park, but don’t let the jokes fool you—something serious is happening here.
Fifteen minutes south of Whitehorse along the Alaska Highway, Steve and his partner Sandra Jost have quietly transformed what was once a standard campground into one of Canada’s most celebrated RV destinations. Sandra joins us, wearing a black shirt under a light teal fleece that reads “Enjoy where you are now. Breathe.” It’s an apt motto for what they’ve created here: a place that asks you to slow down and pay attention to details most campgrounds ignore.
Since taking over in 2019, Steve and Sandra have won TripAdvisor’s Traveller’s Choice Award five consecutive years running and earned recognition from the Air Canada enRoute magazine as one of Canada’s best RV parks. But the real story isn’t in the awards. It’s in how two Europeans decided to bring old-world craftsmanship to the Yukon.
Their transformation began with a joke. Both successful professionals in Luxembourg’s competitive business world, they would escape each year to North America, seeking places where mobile phones fell silent. “One day we’re gonna own our campground in Canada,” they would laugh. When they discovered Caribou RV Park for sale in 2017, casual dreaming crystallized into life-altering purpose. “Should we do it?” they asked each other in their jacuzzi, jet-lagged and wine-warmed.
What they’ve created defies simple categorization. Steve spent 20 years in banking, specializing in customer experience. Sandra ran her own marketing company. “We both come from marketing and customer-experience excellence,” Steve explains. “We always have been helping companies excel in customer experience. That’s what we applied here.”
The difference becomes apparent immediately. They welcome guests in five languages—English, French, German, Luxembourgish and Italian—but more importantly, they understand the cultural expectations that travel with those words. “A German has a totally different attitude and demand than an American,” Sandra observes. When German guests arrive, Steve might mention fresh-baked bread delivery. “For him, it’s the minimum because there’s no campground in Germany that does not offer that service.”
The Cork & Fork restaurant showcases their commitment to authenticity. Sandra crafts croissants from dough imported from France—a necessity since Buttergate changed dairy fat content, making authentic pastry impossible with local ingredients. Their pizza dough carries a family recipe from Italy’s 84th-ranked pizza maker, shared only because of the blessed distance of 9,000 kilometres. Even the butter they use is homemade.
“Everything we make is made from scratch, with either basic ingredients from here or imported,” Steve explains. Finding European specialty ingredients in the Yukon requires detective work. Belgian sausages from Germany. Guanciale for authentic carbonara. Real Italian mozzarella shipped from Italy. “I have to order it two months in advance on a recurring basis,” he says.
Covid-19 arrived just one year after they’d committed their lives to this place, testing everything. But crisis revealed character. When restaurants closed and isolation became mandatory, Sandra began cooking for quarantining guests. “That’s where my name comes from,” she smiles, explaining how Chef Sandra emerged from necessity—the simple act of feeding stranded travellers.
The physical transformation tells its own story. Where once stood simple campsites, now exists five categories of accommodation, from budget-friendly to premium VIP spaces. Walking the grounds, you notice the careful attention: spotless washrooms, free hot showers, a well-stocked convenience store, two Airbnb rental cabins, and those amusing signs that make you smile.
“Every minute we can find, we’re gonna use it to improve quality or customer experience,” Steve says. “It’s like so deep in our DNA because we have been trained by the best in the world.” Sometimes this dedication surprises even them. Sandra started making jam during Covid, selling the excess. “In three hours, one-hundred jars,” Steve marvels. “While you see the opportunity, we’re just like, okay, then let’s do it.”
Their success has practical implications beyond awards. Last year, 8,000 people couldn’t book because they were full. “I know if I could double the space here, I would fill it, but if I double the space I cannot offer the same quality which makes people come here,” Steve explains.
We say goodbye, and Steve and Sandra return to their Airstream kitchen. I can hear them talk about fixing something, dealing with something else, and I realize that this very conversation is the essence of their life here. Caribou RV isn’t just the amenities or the awards, but the fundamental recognition that hospitality is about listening and responding. In Steve and Sandra’s hands, attention to detail has taken root in the patient commitment to doing things right—one welcome, one meal, one perfectly-baked croissant at a time.



