Muncho Lake Provincial Park

Even when you've been somewhere before, it's never the same as it was when you were last there. This is part of the excitement and lure of traveling.

The Muncho Lake area is just beautiful. Note the fresh snow on the mountains in this first photo!

Salt Lick hike

Hoodoos at the salt lick

I stopped off the road at a place where there is supposed to be a salt lick. This is where the mountain goats and Stone sheep come to get the calcium and other minerals they need to grow strong bones.

I've been to a few of these before, but have only once actually seen an animal at one. Perhaps it should be no surprise, as folk wisdom has it that they come in the spring (not the fall) with their kids and lambs so that the young animals can get the nutrition they needs. Also, the mom's need the extra minerals for their milk.

So there, were no animals here today, but it was still a pretty hike, since the some of the sediments here have been eroded into hoodoos.

Part of the salt lick trail, through fields of Anemone Canadensis seedheads

The "flowers" in the foreground of this picture are actually all seed heads, I think of anemones (Anemone Canadensis, aka Western Chaliceflower). Curiously, although I have seen many of these seedheads in a lot of places, I've never seen the flowers! Can you imagine what this must look like when in full bloom?

This section of highway has something to see everywhere, from the turquoise blue waters of Muncho Lake to the high surrounding mountains.

These mountains are subject to heavy summer thundershowers, and the huge amount of water that is dumped on the mountains causes flash flooding in the canyons. The high energy of the water (from the steep terrain), is able to move incredible amounts of material downhill onto alluvial fans that run into the lake. These fans are so big that you can even see them on maps of the lake – look at the base of any of the canyons, and there will be a semi-circular shape extending into the lake (the fan)!

They have had to manage this because otherwise all this material would run onto the road!

They have bulldozed channels so that the water — carrying everything from gravel to pebbles to cobbles to boulders — is guided through huge culverts that run under the highway.

I suppose that this works most of the time.

A helpful Inukshuk "trail" marker

This was as far as I got!

I took a hike up one of these canyons: the Boulder Canyon. There is not really a trail, you just make your way up the canyon. I was lured by the photos of a waterfall, but, being late summer, there was no water in the waterfall, only a few pools of clear water.

This was probably a good thing, since I was able to clamber up the place where the waterfall would have been and make it a little farther up the canyon. I stopped at the place where it truly became a slot canyon — I would not have been able to make it through, and the sides were sheer enough that I would have had to have been a rock climber to make it up.

It was a really interesting hike.

It's been quite awhile since I've been hiking in limestone, and in fact, the area reminded me a bit of the Poleta Folds area where we did summer field geology.

There were some really interesting structures in the limestone, so pardon the digression for geology's sake.

Believe me, in this slot canyon I was really keeping an eye to the weather.

Fortunately, it did not rain. It would have been terrifying to be here when it was raining in the mountains.

Stromatolites?

Tiny fossil

Ok, thanks for bearing with me about the exciting geology fossil pictures!

I meandered along the route, and stopped (again!) along the Toad River, so called because cars were "towed" along the route. There were a hundred places one could have stopped. This is only one.

The water is this beautiful turquoise color, NOT because of glacial flour, but because of the particles of dissolved calcite (from limestone) in the water.

Toad River

This is another example of one of the big alluvial fans that push into (in this case) the river, not a lake. This fan has not been controlled at all, because the highway is on the other side of the river. I'd kind of like to see a sudden storm that would send huge amounts of material down onto the fan, but then, again, maybe not!

I finally stopped for the evening at Summit Lake, in Stone Mountain Provincial Park. It was cold and windy, but not as cold as the last time I was through here, when there were 4" of snow on the ground! I finished off the evening by listening to political pundits talk about the goings on in Charlottesville while finishing my beading project.

Summit Lake campsite

Into British Columbia: butterflies and rainbows!

The past few days have been beautiful, and if the political situation hadn't been so messed up at home, it would have been relaxing.

Smith River Falls

I left Watson Lake, swearing up and down that I will be back to walk the byways, greet the birds, and maybe find a moosehide.

Heading south again, I veered off on a side trip to Smith River Falls, where there was supposed to be a lovely waterfall.

There was, indeed, a lovely waterfall.

Sadly, the trail down to the falls used to have a wooden stairway down to it, but it was burned in a forest fire that ripped through here, and it has not been replaced.

There is a way down, but it was for someone with more courage than I had. It was so steep that some kind soul had attached a rope at the top in order to halt one's progress down, or aid one to get back up.

I declined, and just admired the falls from the top of the cliff.

Looking for a nice lunch stop, I stopped at Teeter Creek. There is a little trail here that goes up a small, rushing creek.

Compton's Tortoiseshell  (Nymphalis Vaualbaum) I think.

This was sort of a magical stop, because there were so many butterflies, it was like being in a butterfly house! Butterflies are chameleons of sorts: they look like dead leaves when their wings are together, but once they open up, they are brilliant orange. I'm tentatively identifying these as Compton's Tortoiseshell (Nymphalis vaualbaum).

They were really pretty fluttering around. You'd walk along and couldn't see them, they were so well disguised against the ground. They particularly like mud and puddles. Then when you walked close to them they would all rise up and flit around in erratic movements with bright flashes of orange! They were surprisingly difficult to photograph as they kept moving, and even when they were on the ground, they kept opening and closing their wings.

Purple aster and friend!

Plus, the sun kept going behind clouds, and it was starting to threaten rain. Not that I minded, it just was challenging.

The flowers that are blooming now are late-summer flowers. The fireweed is waning, and the first fireweed flowers that came out in early summer are now going to seed. Yarrow is still blooming, and yellow goldenrod seems to be in full bloom. There are also purple asters and clover, all of which are quite lovely.

Again, one would think that flowers would be easy to photograph, but they don't stay still! Unlike in a studio, these flowers are moving in the wind, beaten by rain, and often have bugs flying around them, drinking nectar or gathering pollen. In fact, more often than not, an insect is photobombing the flower picture!

I spent most of the afternoon at Liard Hotsprings Provincial Park. For the grand sum of $5, you can spend all day there if you want. There is also a campground, so if you soak in the hot water so long that you have turned to jelly, you don't have to try to leave, but can just fall asleep into your tent or RV. And get up in the morning and do it again.

Yes, it's that kind of place.

The "swamp" around Liard Hot Springs

The unique thing about Liard is that it is completely natural. There is a gravel bottom, but the sides of the pool are mud and soil. This doesn't seem to slough off into the pool, and the water stays pretty sparkling clean except for the occasional patch of algae that floats through the water.

Goldenrod

The upper pool is pretty warm, and as you get closer to the source of the hot water, it, well, gets hotter. Some daring souls approach the source and there is a "bragging stack" of rocks that people have put there. While I was there a couple of boys (probably 8 and 10 years old) got up on the wall where the source of the water is and then just couldn't figure out how to get back into the hot water pool. They had managed to approach the source while in the water (frog in the frying pan syndrome), but when they got out their bodies wisely told them that it was "too hot." They eventually climbed up the cliff in back of the water and came around. (You may ask, "where were the parents?" The parents were mother and father to four boys, and these were the middle two siblings. The parents were watching carefully, but they did not offer advice or criticism, as one might have expected in Marin. They let the boys figure it out for themselves, although they did seem to be poised to haul them out if needed. It was kind of refreshing to see that parenting style.)

Dogwood berries and leaves starting to turn!

There is a cement dam with a waterfall that divides the pool, and the lower section has cold water feeding into it from another source, but it's still pretty warm. There were advisory signs of "BEAR IN AREA: DO NOT ENTER" and more advisories that loud noises may go off at any time. They are trying to keep the bear to one side of the hot springs, apparently, hoping that the other side will be for the people.

It rained, which was fine, because there is a building where you can keep your clothes dry.

It was a peaceful and relaxing afternoon.

I had planned on dinner at the day use area, but unfortunately it was raining, so I had a cold sandwich and kept on.

I stopped at a gravel pit as my overnight stop. Honestly, these are the best places for overnight stops — they are private and, if you pick a good one, can be very quiet and away from highway noise, and certainly people.

The clouds and rain make for dramatic evening pictures, and this night was no exception!

First, the hills lit up with dramatic light, with dark, lowering clouds above.
You can just barely make out the beginning of the rainbow (center top)

Then, as the sun set, a bright rainbow appeared in the mist over the mountains.
Note that this has NOT been enhanced in any way. It was that intense!

Finally, there was some alpenglow hitting one of the peaks when the sun drifted below the clouds.

Alpenglow, and then the sun is down.

It had been a pretty remarkable day, filled with butterflies and rainbows. It almost made up for the sadness of leaving the Yukon...






























MAP

Leaving the Yukon

Watson Lake is the last "big" town on the Alaska Highway in the Yukon, on the way south. It's memorable because of it's huge "Signpost Forest."

A very small part of the Signpost Forest

One could actually probably even get lost here! I ended up at the Visitor Center to get more water, ask again about where to find home-cured moosehide, to make some phone calls, and find a letterbox that I'd somehow missed on the way up here.

Watson Lake does have good cell service, and a good grocery store, although they did close up at 8pm. So I had to stay overnight so I could get ice and fresh groceries for the push south.

I ended up chatting with the ladies in the Visitor Center for longer than anticipated. My question about "moosehide" loosed a flood of information, as it seems that one of them had tanned her own moosehide with one of the local moosehide-tanning legends.

Tanning a moosehide (hearsay)

This "auntie" tanned 30 moosehides in a season! Considering that it takes about a week of work to tan one hide, that's a lot of hours. Before tanning, the moose has to be skinned, and my source said that the first mistake she made was to leave the legs on the hide. "What did you do that for?" the auntie asked her. She replied that she'd wanted to get every scrap of hide, but the first thing the auntie did was to cut the legs off her precious hide.

The raw hide first has to have the hair scraped away from the edges of the hide. That alone is pretty labor intensive. Then holes can be cut on the edges so the hide can be stretched on the frame.

The best way to tan the hides, according to this local expert, is "frozen" tanning. The best time to tan the hide is in the March. When it's wet, you stretch the hide on the form, and leave it to freeze overnight. The moosehide tanning apprentice was told to "come at 5:30am," whence the scraping of the frozen hide would start.

Late lupine

While it is stretched, first the hair has to come off the outside; then the inside of the hide is also scraped clean. My source said that this procedure starts to stretches and break down the leather. Only then can the actual tanning can happen. Old wisdom has it that each animal has enough brain to tan its own hide. In the old days, the brain was put in a vat of water and let sit until the cells had broken down and the mixture was slimy and smelly. Now, they just put the brain in a food processor with some water and let it rip. Much faster and not so odiferous.

The hide is then smeared with the brain tissue. My friend commented that it was sort of like putting on lotion all over the hide. Then it's bundled up and put in a vat to soak so that the tannin from the brain can get into all the pores.

After that, the hide is wrung out. This auntie had done so many hides that her husband built her a large crank to turn twist the hide and wring it out. It is scraped and worked again, after which the hide is smoked. This smoking is to preserve it, and it is a cold smoking. There apparently is an art to smoking so that it is not near the fire, but still gets the benefit of the smoke. There may be a second smoking, which adds color. The "recipe" for what makes the smoke is a closely guarded secret, and may include rotted pine cones, or special wood chips.

All told: seven days of seven hours of work each day. I am now almost regretting that I didn't get that $600 "home-smoked" moosehide at the trading post in Dawson City! It was a bargain!
- more about preparing a moosehide
- still more about preparing a moosehide

Mosquito graveyard

My contact in Watson Lake said that the best part (aside from the fact that her "old, tough, moose" was turned into a beautiful piece of leather that is bigger than a bedspread), was getting to talk and banter with woman with whom she was working. Like a quilting bee, or other work done together, there is a richness in sharing time like this.

I stayed at the campground at Watson Lake a couple of nights. During the day it was tolerable, but it was warm and sticky at night, and there were a lot of mosquitoes. I kept swatting them, and was surprised to see that my cache of bodies was being raided by a... spider!! It kept dragging off the fat bodies, much to my amusement.

Much of the time I spent working on my beading project. I finally determined what to do with the background, and had made enough progress that I just wanted to get it done. I have broken countless needles on this project, and have learned a lot. I actually cannot wait to start on the next one, but... I need moosehide (thus the quest for moosehide).

Beading project (front) almost done

I did go down by the lake and made the acquaintance of a very drunk young woman who had grown up in Watson Lake and a not-so-drunk older man who had come north from Okanagan fifty years ago and never left. He said, "You know what they say: if you stay here for six months, you'll never leave." The young woman kept exclaiming loudly, "You see over there? They call that 'The Face.' It's where we go skiing in the winter." "It's so beautiful!" she exclaimed, and then fell into the water.

She eventually made it out, and the gentleman drove her — presumably home — in his rusty pickup.

Alcohol is a big issue.

You can only buy it here in the Yukon at the dedicated Liquor Stores. You can't pick up a bottle of wine at the grocery store. I know that it's expensive (plus I don't want to have an open bottle in the car),  so there hasn't been much impetus on my part to visit one.

Leaving Carcross: days of blissful regret

I am tearing myself away from the north. It's not pretty. The weather has been awesome, the scenery amazing, the people fun, and I really, really do not want to leave.

The Carcross train station

The only thing that is making me to is that I know if I don't leave that I may be missing something even better down the road. But this is pretty hard to beat!

"Downtown" Carcross

Kids in summer

Right across the street (and railroad tracks) from the train station is the "pink building" of Matthew Watson's General Store, which must serve gallons of ice cream daily in the summer. The gray building is the hotel, which looks like it is being renovated.

I had one scoop for my birthday, with their signature homemade waffle cone. The aroma of the cooking cones wafted over the town each day.

After the busses leave and the train chugs out of town, it's a sleepy village again. The kids do what kids should be doing on long summer days: every day I see the same group of them diving off the bridge, swimming in inner tubes and kayaks, splashing and laughing and not a cell phone in sight.

I will be back here to paddle on the lakes and hike up Montana Mountain and pick raspberries again along the railroad tracks. Can't wait to come back.

Last look at the "SS Tutshi" and the Carcross village.

It's funny how sometimes it takes awhile to get things into one's head. I totally understand how learning needs to happen on several levels for things to really "take."

Red ripe strawberry!

For instance, one can look at a map and realize that a road goes from a town to a town, and that there may be mountains to the east or west, and that it may go by a river, which connects to another river. It's all very cerebral, and until you actually SEE those things, it really doesn't mean much.

Carcross really was a sort of locus for understanding for me of how the rivers and the mountains and the land all came together.

I stayed the night at the intersection of the South Canol Road and the Alaska Highway. I've been through here a couple of times now, each time from different directions. I had driven south on the South Canol Road a couple of weeks ago, so it's starting to feel familiar. At the rest stop here, there are a few old cars, relics from the building of that road. All of these are protected as "heritage" vehicles. You can climb in them and pretend that you're driving an old car, but you can't haul them off.

In the morning, I took a ramble down a dirt road that soon became a dirt track. The leaves are just starting to turn, and there is a crispness to the morning air that is refreshing. Lots of berries are ripe, and I was fortunate to find just one tiny strawberry. These wild strawberries are so sweet. The flavor is intense, and the juice stains one's fingers bright red.

You do just NEVER know what you are going to find. Besides berries, I hit the jackpot for old cars and trucks that had been used to build the Canol road.

You could clearly see the writing on the side of the trucks!

This area actually became a dump. Old cars from the 1940s to the present (including a classic VW Beetle) have been joined by bits of flotsam and jetsam of people's lives, discarded and mouldering and returning to their elemental state.

It does seem that there is a gravity or accretion principle: once there is a group of something, it attracts more of the same. Seems like there should be a universal law about this!

Everything from the car to the TV to the boat

Ptarmigan, summer plumage

On the way back, I flushed a ptarmigan out from the forest floor. These birds are so well camouflaged that you could practically step on one and not realize it was there until it burst upward in a whirr of wings, and then sat in the tree with the mistaken idea that I couldn't see it if it remained perfectly still.

While it was "frozen," I was able to quietly work my way around to get the bushes and branches out of the way so I could get a good photo. It just stared at me with its beady, red-rimmed eye and never moved. Its feathers were still rimmed with white from the change from its winter plumage. It won't be long before it has to lose its feathers again and turn all white!

There were also bunchberries and soapberries and highbush cranberries, most of which are now as familiar to me as the huckleberries back in Marin.

Regrettably, it was time to move on, otherwise I'll never get anywhere.

Teslin

Teslin Lake is a sparkling blue lake, surrounded by low hills. I've stopped here before, since there is a lovely beach near the local First Nations cultural center, but when I've passed by they haven't been open. There are picnic tables and totem poles, a boat shed, and fish-drying stations. It's a pleasant place to stop and stretch and eat.

This time, I made sure that they were open so I could get my passport stamped!

Fiberglass "traditional" Tlingit canoe by the shores of Teslin Lake

The ladies at were very nice, and volunteered that Tom Dickson was demonstrating carving inside. I asked about the moosehide boat, because the one that I saw in the boat shed sure looked a lot like the one that was made at Adaka. It was indeed; I was told that it had split when they put it into the water, and so it was here for repairs! In fact, the master boatbuilder was on site, and was demonstrating boat frames out in front! (I hadn't heard that the boat split; that was interesting news... I guess "stuff" happens, even with expert builders!)
About soapberries

Service berries aka soapberries (Shepherdia canadensis)

Along with some other tourists, we watched a film called "Two Winters" which was about the tales that have been handed down through the generations about the time that summer did not come. There was winter, then no spring or summer, followed by another winter. It was a hard time for the people, who could not find berries to eat or game to hunt, since the animals all left, too. They had to resort to chipping frozen fish out of the ice for summer food, since it never melted. This was followed by yet another winter. Many people died. Turns out this was the year (1815) that Mount Tambora erupted, and which had worldwide repercussions, resulting in Europe's "Little Ice Age."

I hadn't thought that this the cooling was such a world-wide phenomenon, and that it would so adversely affect the people in the far north. Pretty sobering.

Of course, now, I am told by many "old-timers" that the winters are not as cold as they used to be, which is anecdotal evidence for global warming.

While at the Center, I talked with the wood carver, and as we were discussing the excellence of spring steel for carving tools (it's also been used for ice carving and for scraping moose hides), one of the ladies who had been busy in the kitchen came out with a big spoonful of "Indian Ice Cream." This is made from soapberries, sugar and water. That's it. You have to beat the mixture. They said it is a lot easier now that there are electric mixers! "Oh my, I remember beating and beating and beating in the old days," remarked one of them.

The taste is... probably an acquired one. The first taste was a bit off-putting, but one did get used to it. The texture is certainly interesting. It's a fairly hard foam, something like an Italian meringue, but nearly so sweet. There is a kind of slippery feel on one's tongue, no doubt from the saponin. While one of the ladies said, "My grandfather, he said it was good for the digestion!" upon reading, I'm not sure this is the case, as eating to much can cause diarrhea. Sure glad I didn't eat THAT much!
- About soapberries
- About Indian ice cream

MAP

Carcross interlude

It has been a marvelous few days. 

Carcross is a beautiful spot, and I have been blessed with fine weather. I know that time is passing, but it seems to make sense to take advantage of it. I can travel when it's raining.

The SS Tutshi

I have spent the past few days kayaking, exploring, writing (ugh) and getting caught up once again. While Carcross seems small, there is a lot going on here.

It has long been a transportation hub. Being at the far end of Lake Bennett, there is a lot of river traffic. Restoration of the SS Tutshi was begun in 1988, but in 1990, just a few days before a fire-suppression system was supposed to be installed, it was destroyed in a fire. (I just heard some scuttlebutt that the fire was deliberately set by an anti-tourist faction.) There are photographs of what it looked like before it burned. It looks like it was a labor of love — it looked like a Victorian bride, with lots of detailed woodwork.

Swing train bridge across the Nares River

Carcross is also the northern terminus of the White Pass and Yukon Railroad, which runs over the spectacular and historic route from Skagway. There is excitement when the train comes to town. The train whistle blows a warning, then you hear its deep rumbling on the track before it comes into sight on the track.

The historic church

People are disgorged from the train and busses.  At any one time there are 5-10 busses in the parking lot. The tourists wander around town, bedecked with cameras. They take pictures by the water, get ice cream at the general store, and buy trinkets and moccasins, t-shirts and jewelry and carvings.

They also want to know about my solar panel and license plate.

There is a tourist "village" of sorts: the Bear's Paw Quilt Shop has a "popup"store here; there are several restaurants, including a cafe and an "authentic sourdough bakery." There is an "Art House" displaying First Nations art, paintings and sculpture and stained glass; also a place where you can rent paddleboards and sign up for skydiving. Artists set up shop an do demonstrations and hope to sell something, too.

Most people are in a holiday mood, and I sense that business is pretty good.

Carcross is a two-church town. There is a charming historic church that was built by Bishop Bumpas, and a second Catholic church (St. John's) near the (old) community center. They are both cabins with steeples; the historic church is painted white and green, the more modern one is white and blue.

The fireweed growing by the side of the church is particularly lovely.

The town is actually surrounded on two sides by water: the Nares River is on one side, and shore of Lake Bennett is on another side.

(The Klondike Highway is on another side, and beyond that is Nares Lake, which I guess feeds into the Yukon River.)

Historic cabins and other structures line the streets of the town around the cluster of buildings that include the train station and associated buildings. The pink General Store that sells ice cream is doing a good business. There is often a line out the door. The boxy gray Carcross Hotel, which looks like it is being renovated. As I was peering in the window, a woman mentioned that it had been in business when she was growing up. "It was really nice," she said. "There was good food, and they had a talking parrot!" The floors are being redone, there are some antique sofas inside and what looks like a new or newly renovated bar in place, along with an old clawfoot tub. The train and tour busses are bringing in business, at least in the summer months, and it's close enough to Whitehorse that Carcross can be a quick getaway all year round.

If one continues along Bennett Avenue, which parallels the lakeshore, there are more historic storefronts.

One of them, the one next to the Post Office, has bird houses on top of it that are models of structures in the town, including the church, Watson's General Store, the Carcross Hotel, the and the village houses, brightly painted with Tlingit artwork.

Village birdhouse

Church birdhouse

I have whiled many happy hours here. How can you not?

It is best to get out on the lake early, when the wind is down and the water is calm. The water can be almost glassy. You can paddle anywhere, although the best landing is of course at the beach end.

Nares River and Lake are also lovely, although the lake is a bit more marshy than Bennett Lake. The train bridge is JUST high enough that one can paddle under it, although one needs to lean back in order to not knock one's head!

Paddling on Bennett Lake

For all that there is a sandy bottom, if you get out far enough, there are rocks that cause one to pay attention if you are near shore. Fortunately one does not to very fast in a kayak, but it could be nasty to run into one of these. One can see why the river captains had to be careful!

The best news is that I no longer as afraid of paddling against a current. Serenity has her moments, but she definitely does like going upwind and against the current. I got to play by going up some of the side streams, which is really fun because there is a sense of discovery in going to see places you have not been. And when you go upstream, you KNOW it's easy to go downstream, and you can't go over a waterfall! The currents aren't huge, and I am not ready to go out on the Missouri in flood, but now I know I can handle something moderate (walking pace). 

You can't stop paddling though, and it is definitely easier going downstream.

Rocky point on Lake Bennett

Yellow butt.erfly on the dunes

There is just so much to do. You can walk on the dunes, picnic by the shore, paddle on the lakes. There are also bike and hiking trails. 

I've been talking this morning with a German gentleman. Very fit, very tan. He was a sea captain, worked piloting oil tankers for Mobil Oil. He retired in 1992, and has been traveling ever since. He got one of those big tank/trucks. He has been summering in the Yukon (April-September), then stores it here and returns to Germany. One hear he shipped the tank home and took it to Iceland for three months. Spent three years in Australia, didn't set foot in New Zealand (sand flies), and also South Africa. He has convinced me to go on the North Canol next year, to Dragon Lake. Good fishing, and berry picking! He said the road is good (for tourism and hunting) to Mackenzie Pass, but beyond that the bridges are out. Given that I was so entranced with the South Canol road, it's a good bet the North Canol would also be interesting.

Plovers?

Every day I have had meals outside. An eagle flew by one evening as I was having cocktail hour. (It was kind of late for cocktails, but it was worth it to see the eagle. )

Eagle perched across the river.

Nares Lake reflection

Fixing breakfast by Bennett Lake

My kitchen turns into my dining room turns into my office. Depending on where I want to be, I can have sun or shade, a river or a lake view. Honestly, it's pretty idyllic. No wonder I don't want to leave.

I've run into other travelers, too. Another dude from Colorado had pretty much the same philosophy as I have. He was fixing a Denver omelet (onions, peppers) plus bacon and has browns, while I was making my version of the same. He had a "Sportsmobile" which is basically a Ford van on steroids. He said there was a company in California which takes the vans and customizes them. In his case, they jacked it up, gave it 4WD, plus put in a pop-top and a canopy. I think the inside was custom, too, but I didn't ask to see. 

He said it was way too expensive and he only got 10-15 mpgallon, but... boys with toys. Besides, he said, "It's home."

We all make choices.

I have made a few short excursions outside of Carcross. I went back to Emerald Lake one day (there was a letterbox I'd missed). There were a number of campsites that could be interesting, but for some reason Emerald Lake looked better from above than down by the shore. There was also a camper who had driven right up to the launching beach, which I thought was kind of thoughtless, especially since their canoe was still on top of the camper. I mean, isn't it good etiquette to park there, unload, then move away so someone else can use the spot??

Lighning-struck tree?

While wandering around Emerald Lake, I found this tree, which looks like it had been struck by lightning. 

It's something of a mystery, though, as to how this happened: the tree is surrounded by like-aged and sized trees, and it is not up on a ridge where lightning is supposed to strike. It sure looked like the side of the tree had been burned and the bark peeled back above and below that point. I wonder if anyone knows anything about this??

I also went to the cemetery here, and paid my respects to Carmacks Kate (who was married to Skookum Jim) and Dawson Charlie, folks who were key players in the Klondike gold strike. I love that they came back home to be buried and remembered.

The cemetery was in a lovely, peaceful spot above Nares Lake.

Graves here in the Yukon are not always marked with headstones, but are often surrounded by white picket fences. Often there will be offerings of various kinds, not just flowers. There may be tobacco, cigars, jewelry, beaded pieces, carvings.

One of them had an antler carved by a son for his father. You know  that the people who are gone are still loved and remembered.

Memorial

There isn't really much more to say. The pictures speak for themselves.

I even had a spectacular sunset one night. I tried to go up to the dunes to catch the full moon, but there was a lot of yipping and howling, and I didn't feel safe wandering around on the sand at night. Who knows why all that noise was happening!

I have alluded to the possibility that my plans may be changing. I have loved being here so much, that now it seem like it really might be okay to stay here and enjoy it. 

Yellowknife = flat. Forest. Lots of trees. no mountiains.

The plains. As someone said, "There is nothing between Edmonton and Toronto."

I'm actually not sure that is true, but I'm considering spending more time here and not driving so much. Maybe heading to Nova Scotia and Newfoundland in the spring, after Miami, following the spring north, then either staying there for the summer or heading back here.

Friends are making noises about a "reunion" in Alaska, so I may want to take that into consideration as well. And I do want to be here for Adaka next year, unless I find something else to do... Which is always a possibility.

Sunset over Bennett Lake

I am supremely grateful that I have the opportunity to travel like this, and I am appreciating every single minute.

And now it's time to go exploring again!