Dyea

August 1st
I cannot believe another interrupted night's sleep by our resident varmint. Mark identified it
being in the exterior somewhere, but on "M". Anxiety crept into my chest and belly, and I had to
implement many skills to cope and get more relaxed, returned to slumber. Gone are those 7
a.m. wake-ups for us both this week, and I am grateful Mark's eyes opened simultaneously,
about 8:30.

 

Dyea skies were clouded again, with no immediate rain, so after breakfast of eggs and
pancakes, we bicycled throughout the old Klondike gold rush town's ruins. After a year, Dyea
folded with the waning of the miners and adventurers who dared to attempt this wilderness and
their luck. Riding on the trails through the woods was lovely, fun. The small cemetery housed
victims of an avalanche in 1898, and many were from Seattle, the rest from Portland, California,
Denmark. There was one in-tact wooden building's facade, and all the rest of lumber was taken
by fleeing klondikers.

 

We said good-bye to the beautiful tidal flats, watching the gulls and pinks in the spawning drama
and survival. Watching these mighty fish struggle to hold their ground upstream, and the
partnering males protecting their laying females from other males, is quite awesome and
moving---so much energy and tenacious cycling. Five adorable husky pups were playing on the
shoreline in the tall grasses. Their home was where sled dogs were being exhibited for the line
of tourists approaching. Skagway was a great combination of tourist town and being outside of
it in sweet, gorgeous Dyea, creating a wonderful balance.

 

On the road again at 3:30.

 

 

Tagish Lake was a long, blue-green lake on the Klondike Highway, and we stopped so Mark
could photograph the white-lit rock island and mountain across from us. A three generation
family, parents from Ontario, and the younger couple and their baby from Whitehorse, were out
for an outing. The young family intend to see the redwoods in California, and we highly
encouraged them to experience Gold Bluffs Beach and Fern Canyon, next to one another. One
day soon I want to share that drive to northern California, and my old haunts with Mark, since he
has a strong appreciation for several wonderful places of my past there.

Taking the turn-off towards our cherished Atlin, we made camp on Little Atlin Lake, not too far
from the highway, that we'll continue on in the morning, for the Cassiar Highway. Stopping at
6:30, was late enough, and I didn't want Mark to get too tired from driving, and our decreased
sleep last night is starting to infiltrate and wane our energies. I sure hope our little night-time
visitor in Dyea, proves Mark's theory true, and is a resident in the campground, who enjoyed
visiting "M" and exploring in the wee hours, and returned to his lair in the later morning, not to
be heard anymore.

At the boat ramp here, a few yards from our camp, we visited with an engaging, pleasant family
from Whitehorse, parents and two teen sons. The concrete ramp has been sinking, so the boat
trailer had to be backed into deeper waters, in order to load their dory, scraping some of the
metal on the trailer. The mother was loving her time with the family, and happy to have her 19
y.o. home from college for another month. Fish galore had been caught in Little Atlin, mostly
pike and trout, she gushed about. She raved about the convenience and joys of living in
Whitehorse, and feeling so fortunate to have easy access to such Yukon wilderness and
outdoor activities. The three of us (her husband and sons were focused upon loading their
boat) assessed that traveling in the RV over the 2.5 months, even with gas expenses and food,
really was way less costly than if we had stayed in B&Bs, hotels, motels, and paid for gas and
food. Friends had asked her opinion in the past about the wisdom of renting a RV to travel in,
and she was delighted to know now, that it can cost-effective.

Salmon steaks and broccoli, with a peppermint patty was the menu tonight, since we both were
still reeling and fullish from the cake this late afternoon. Dark clouds over the mountains, and
the wind is creating consistent small waves on the lake tonight, and I look forward to lulling rain
drops on the roof.