We stayed at the provincial park across the river last night and I decided to move into town and stay another night so I can use the internet. Between the library and the campground I should be able to get a few hours of work done. The poodles might not be thrilled about staying indoors but it’s a perfect gloomy day for just that.
Our morning walk brought us to the Farmer’s Market where I found some beautiful fresh veggies.
The biggest and smallest carrots in the world
I love a full fridge!
I’ll stay the night at a gringo camping ground so I can finish chores and work on the blog
I ran into the couple I met at Boya Lake Park a month ago. Unbeknownst to me they’d taken a picture of the poodles and me in the canoe. Jan and his wife Machiko and their two sons, Kai and Wyn have been on a trip across Canada and Alaska.
Click the photo below to link to their website:
I ended my day being invited to a real Yukon party
at least that’s what they kept telling me…
Around 9pm I headed out for a quick walk with the poodles.
Dawson City is made up of a main street that borders the river and where the tourist shops resides, the historic and business district and a small residential area that spreads out behind the town. Walking from the campground and across two streets of shops delivered us into the neighborhood. My goal was a brisk jaunt and back to the camper for an early night. We were only half way down the block when I heard someone calling from a window, in an oddly combined Canadian/Maine-er accent, “He’yah little da’lan, you wanna come see what a real Yukon pardy’s like?” I hesitated, took a step and hesitated again. I squinted at the window, looked down at the poodles and squinted again. The front door of the house was open and soon appeared a man and his dog, I could hear music and the din of voices issuing from inside. He had a grizzly looking beard and a slight wall-eye. “Come on in and hav’a be’yah.” I did a quick calculation… I had three dogs with me and we were in the middle of a very small town where everyone knows one another. OK.
I walked into a smoke filled drab dark living room. Several guys were sitting by a table playing guitars and took casual note of my entrance. They told me to pull up a chair and join them, so I did. I let the poodles off their leads and they immediately began mingling and making themselves at home. Nickel politely greeted the little lab and then clamored into my lap. Eureka jumped onto the couch and pressed herself into the closest person and demanded pets, which were generously applied. TinTin, as only TinTin can, moved slowly forward, like a tiny stiff legged stegosaurus, down the hallway and into the kitchen to look for any leftovers within reach.
Me? I was sitting there in my PJ’s, my blue plaid flannel bottoms with a gray T-Shirt that said “Happy 101 Birthday Gino!” There I was, a middle aged woman in her pajamas, drinking a can of Canadian Molson and a holding huge gray a poodle in my lap. I looked at the guy sitting on my right, “Does this feel kind of surreal to you?” He nodded and said, “Yeah.”
There were five men and a woman. Two of the guys were x-hockey players and two were seasonal miners, I don’t know the host did. The gravelly voiced woman who was sitting on my left was gaunt and her leathery tanned skin hung tight across her face and hands. I couldn’t decided if her body and soul were weathered from a life of truck-stops and whiskey or from the tough existence of a pioneer’s subsistence living. It seemed that all of these people had left Dawson City and traveled around the US and Canada at some point, but they always returned.
The host told me that I needed to spend a few more days in Dawson City in order to get a feel for what Yukon is really like. He invited me to park my camper in his back yard for a few days. I took a second glance at the woman next to me and decided that I’d better be going…..