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So after 2 days sleeping indoors. The little Bro, has a cool friend, Tiffany, and she hooked us up with a place to stay at her co-worker Karen (Holla - what ever that means). So we got to use ‘real’ stoves, keep our stuff in a fridge, and not be chased by bugs (no they weren’t bad, but they were usually around). Of course with only one spare bed, and traveling with Pops, no straws were drawn, I got the floor. But how soft, and even that carpeted flooring was…

If you don’t know about the history of the Klondike (click here) Gold Rush, it’s part of what makes Canada NOT America.We heard a lot of Bear Warnings.

The ride up was cool, traffic was much lighter than the Alcan, and in general things were more laid back. Dad and I checked out, and learned about the traditional hide tanning process one day from a local shaman. Dad’s 60th birthday took place at twin lakes campground, and the swiss couple next to would somehow appear at tea time for the next 2 days on the road - with tea ready for us…

The route which (kind of) followed the original winter stage coach trail (their record was 4 days and we took 5) held true to the ‘farther north the better’ philosophy that I have heard so much of over the past year.

I really Dug Dawson City, and could easily spend a month, or a summer, or perhaps longer up there. Of course in the summer it’s always light, and there always seems to be an event of some kind in some place. And despite 110 years ago when it was the largest city north of Seatle, West of Winterpeg, 3rd town on the continent to have electricity, and men outnumbered women 7-1, now the numbers have changed a little.

I had planned the rough draft for this bike tour when I was up in Alaska with Jen, of ‘Alaska Blind Date’ fame (see Jan/ Feb entries of 2007). As it turned out Dad and I were a few days ahead of schedule, but I left a note for Jen at Tourist information anyhow. But as luck would have it she showed up early as well. Not that the people along the route weren’t friendly, open, and helpful, but after a month of trees, travel, wilderness, and strangers, a friendly face and hug go a really long way.

Now that we weren’t trying to date, and I was sleeping in a tent with Papa, we also got along fantastically.

We spent a night out celebrating the Birthday of Mrs. Circle Cycle - a former Parks Canada employee, who wasn’t impressed to hear that I had been climbing on the 7 story high Dredge. ‘But there wasn’t a no trespassing sign’ (there might be one now…). If you are in town go stop by and spend some time with Tim ‘chin wagging’ at the bike shop.

By the time we leave the bar and head to the Casino for the Vaudeville show, half the bar is were waving, and calling to by name ’see us again in July’. Now one doesn’t have to have a psychology degree to realize that normally this would be right up my alley. And I have gleefully been anticipating it for weeks, and a few thousand kilometers of cycling. But it was Awful. Even in my Pizza Fed, Yukon Golded State it was … not quite what I was expecting. But at least it was sunny out at 1am for the ride back to the campground.

‘Showering’ on this leg, like the last usually consisted of jumping in a really cold lake for 5 seconds, rubbing soap over a goose-bumped dripping body, and jumping in the water again. Yes it was bio-soap. No, we didn’t do it daily, and no it didn’t make us clean. In the case of Carmacks on the Pelly River heavy rain had caused the fine volcanic silt to wash into the river in such amounts that I couldn’t see my feet when I was knee deep in the river. CLEAN I tell you.