Tetlin Wildlife Refuge

June 16th

Left Kluane Lake camp, again, so grateful for continued water-front spaces. On to the really
choppy, pot-holed, ridge-waved Al-Can! What a ride all day. Poor Mark had to be totally
focused on the road, weaving when the other side of the road was clear, whenever possible,
when there was an orange flag signaling "beware," of some form of surprise bump. There were
several dusty, gravel stretches, and when we stopped at "Buckshot Betty's" in Beaver Creek, at
the end of the roughest patch, "M" was covered, not just dusted, with layers of dirt on steps,
ladders, white body parts. Tea-time was cherry pie shared, and then dashing through heavy
down-pour to wipe myself down with a towel, for the rest of the day's journey.

The Tetlin Wildlife Refuge with thousands of acres, is where we visited the center, and the
volunteer was helpful in pointing out two free campgrounds. Deadman Lake is where Mark
stayed his last two trips, and where we are now, parked in the gentle black spruce woods with
the lake visible through the trees' narrow trunks and limbs. (An aside: the black spruce beetle
has killed mountains full of these trees, and many still inhabit the dead ones. These spindly
trees are slow to grow, and some may be over a hundred years old. Fires tend to wipe them out
easily, and then the heat releases sap from them, enabling them to re-seed themselves for the
future.)

Dinner was moist salmon burgers again, grilled in-between downpours, with balmy aftermath.
At 7, we attended the female ranger's delightful presentation on ravens of the north, which was
perfect, since I asked Mark a few days ago about the locals' beliefs in these inquisitive, very
large and ever-present black birds. They have been fun to watch whenever we have camp, or
just touring, hiking. Something about these northern ravens make them stand out, than the
ones in Idaho---more gumption, presence. Kaylin was a very enthusiastic, animated lecturer,
story-teller who clearly enjoys her work. She lives in Tok, one of our first destinations tomorrow,
the official U.S. town, after entering customs earlier today.

She shared how some natives here and in Canada, share many creation stories during which
raven is a godly figure, who designed and created all creatures including humans. The other
character is the trickster in other myths. Kaylin gave us 5 attendees (a middle-aged gal from
Santa Rosa with her elderly lab mix dog, a young woman from L.A., and similar-aged man as
we, from OR) a wide perspective of raven's mischievous antics, e.g. stealing food from climbers
at the top of the highest peak in Canada, Mt. Logan, or Prudhoe Bay in the winter (where raven
is the only bird that sticks around there in the winter, and here, where he is one of maybe 3
other fowl that stay here for the winter, stashing caches of food on ground and higher, and
remembering where each is). She shared photos of ravens sliding down snowy, icy house roofs
on their backs, and just having a good 'ol time playing, doing somersaults in the sky. They were
called the "wolf birds" by natives, since they have a symbiotic bond to wolves, latter opening up
carcasses of caribou, moose, etc., and allowing the birds to eat side-by-side with them. It was
an informative and pleasant way to socialize this evening, and so casually comfortable.

As we walked back to our camp, we visited the lake at its boat launch area pier first, spotted a
huge beaver swimming smoothly, quickly, and who did not seem intimidated by our presence at
all. Then, a young man came to filter water into his stash, who is bicycling with another pal, and
his part shepherd-looking dog to Boise, from Anchorage, where he lives! He is from Spokane,
where his family is, and where he thinks he'll most likely return to, eventually, and the male
buddy is from Boise. Our guy is a pediatric nurse, and his friend is a nurse, too. They expect to
make their mark by sometime in August, or 60 days. Fun adventure for them. He has a cart for
his dog, who also foots it periodically throughout each riding day. We wished them safe travels.

Mark is experimenting with one of his antenna that is carted around in "M," enabling better ham
frequencies. If he were to break down in the middle of the Al-Can, he could radio a local ham,
who could then advise him and connect him with the appropriate resource to assist him out of
the jam. It is also fun to listen in on others' polite and light-hearted conversations occasionally,
since Mark has the radio on throughout the drive. For emergency support, that is why he is
involved in Coeur d'Alene, with his club and the sheriff office, for hospitals, in case of power
outages, and the ham radio is available for support.

He is now typing an updated email on the ham system, to the kiddos and others right now. I am
fatiguing-down, with a soft sleepiness at 9, with dusk-like light ensuing. The light each night has
been varied with each kind of terrain, water, mountain view we've stayed by; some giving more
sleepless energy, and tonight, more slumber-goaled. A really interesting experience of the Al-
Can was the theme today, and camp at 4 p.m., seems to be the perfect end of driving time, if we
have to be on the road.

Da Ku Cultural Center

June 15th

We left our 4 fun-filled and beautiful days in Haines, which was a delightful surprise to me. I imagined it to be just a transition ferry stop to other destinations, and not A PLACE to explore and enjoy. The Haines Hwy. is just as surprisingly stunning back-tracking to Haines Junction, with those immaculate and majestic glaciated mountains, and this jaunt we got to see our first grizzly of the trip! Mark said we probably will never get this close again to one of these masters.

A younger adult couple got out of their car, and with their backs to the bear, had their friend take their photo, arms around eachother. The griz started to crouch, and Mark heard him huff. On another trip to these parts, he honked his horn when a man got too close and invasive to a grizzly, to scare the saner mammal away, before harm was done. Today, the people got back into their vehicles sooner than later. Up the road, we also saw the largest black bear yet, also grazing on the side of the road. Yesterday, the theme was eagles, and today, bear.

It's been fun running into several retiree couples from West Virginia, Arizona, California, traveling this route to the same and different Alaskan destinations, who have graced the same campgrounds or gorgeous turn-out overnight sites, or visited on picnic tables by rivers and lakes, watching Mark surrender his fish to the eagle. Today, it was the very personable AZ people with their yellow kayaks, who we met in the Chilkoot campground, saw them at our day area on Mud Bay, and then today, at a turn-out on the Haines Hwy.

In Haines Junction, we had a wonderful time at the Da Ku Cultural Center, where the Champagne-Aishihik-Tutchone people have created an airy, well-designed, three year-old housing of cultural and a Kluane (Klu-a-nee) National Park and Reserve presentation. Mark and I were impressed with the young man curator, a member of this First Nation tribe, who taught us many aspects of his and the elders' generations. His generation is the first to collect artifacts, crafts and arts from the preceding ones, who did not have the means to store these familiars, and when cremated, were accompanied by the material beloveds, much as the Egyptians practiced, for their afterlives. This was an exciting and unknown concept to both Mark and me, which would include most of these other NW peoples, possibly. Don't know about the Tlingits; although he said there has been much inter-marriage with this tribe, with whom much trading was done. With familial ties developing, the curator shared that the two tribes would limit the bartering only with clan members.

The Champagne-Aishihiks (A-jac) have two clans of Raven and Wolfe, and their artwork is distinctively different from the Tlingits', with more curves, and less geometric angles and balance. Mark bought a lovely local Tutchone artist's painting of a mother and baby raven encircling one another, and feathers were depicted, which he said the Tlingit do not do. The background reminds Mark of a dream catcher, with an sunset-hued background. The clans are determined matriarchically. After the Al-Can was developed, this local First ation group went from small community living, to moving to larger settlements, e.g. Whitehorse, and larger towns, as well as individual plots (Klukshu, the village before Haines Junction, has developed into the latter, the curator announced), instead of communal village lifestyles.

It was reassuring and touching to hear the enthusiastic Tutchone teacher, share that many of his generation are now reviving and/or continuing their cultural values, arts and crafts, and some have contemporized creations, e.g. beading a Yankee team theme, vs. a flower (missionaries would teach tribal members to bead floral designs, and these specific blossoms have been passed down to this generation; thus flowers on men's jackets as an example). The even younger woman accompanying him, confirmed that her grandmother taught her to bead a specific flower, that she continues to carry through.

We were described gaffs that were and continue to be used for fishing. The teacher continues to now use a curved hook gaff to catch salmon, and the elders gather with their coolers for him to fill first, and he may take home two fish out of thirty caught. He has no resentment, since he will expect the younger ones to honor and respect him when he gains the golden age. A really sincere, tender, delightful person he was.

Satiated with knowledge and concentration fatigue, we left the center, thanking the curator profusely, and sought tea-time and wifi at The Village Bakery. Ono warm cinnamon rolls and apple streudel, coffee, and catching up with online news and community. My heart leapt when I saw facebook pics of Lucy and Larkin, and Lucy again with a couple friends. Also enjoyed photos of Mark's daughter Michelle and her Fab Four girlfriends from childhood, celebrating pal Erica's 40th, this past week-end in Washington; and shots of Eric, his son and fun, adorable partner Angela, at their friends' Sonoma wedding and travel sojourns.

Driving north, Mark shared another idyllic, water, mountain site with me, on the Kluane Lake, which is 154 square miles big. After initially parking, we walked down the gravel road further, and discovered an even more choice and private spot, where a large-bouldered and smaller rocked beach graced us, right there. Mark casted a few minutes to decompress from his goodhearted driving, while I sat taking in the tranquility and stillness of this lake and hills, with mountains in the background.

We enjoyed a non-pasta stir fry, which, instead, consisted of chicken sausage with bell peppers, mashed potatoes (Mark's special one-step packet), green beans and peaches. Yummy!!! Mark then emailed kiddos and others, via his ham outfit, took a stroll and sat outside, while I typed this entry. God, this view is so lovely, when I gaze to my left window. Clouds are elongated grey-white, with powder blue sky interspersed, and still dusky-light at 8:30 p.m. Mark's working on his myriad of loving photos.

Chilkoot Lake Adventures

June 14th

Stayed in bed til about 8 today, meditated and did my bed exercises, which I also taught Mark. We'll see when he actually starts doing them, however. Think positive. After much dialogue about whether we should kayak, because of his shoulder, he decided better to find out now, since his doc said paddling was okay, just no overhead stuff (we worked out a plan for unloading and loading with my kitchen stool and me on it, so he wouldn't have to lift too high). As we began, a very helpful, pleasant young woman with an outfitters, helped us with the unloading, and did not need us to reciprocate with her multi-level kayak trailer, having it down to a science, she said.

Chilcoot Lake, where we also camped, was still and it was a warm 60 degrees. I felt pretty cozy in my long sleeve thermal shirt, winter tights and shorts, and my neoprene booties in my aquasandals. Mark could not find his sandals, so we searched the "M," to no avail. Luckily, he has an assortment of other shoes, as do I, so just wore his walking ones. He never got them wet, since I made sure to push his boat in and pulled it high enough that he could alight dry. The agreement was he would pace himself and be honest about when to paddle back.

 

 

It was gorgeous weather, not cold and not hot. Mark has paddled this lake the last two trips he's made, so knew the bay to our left, and where water churned from a mountain waterfall in to Chilcoot. The wind started picking-up, so we headed back. His left shoulder was throbbing, even though he was using right arm as a piston to pump the left side of the paddle. Wind turned back down into calm breezes, so we got to be still and take in the three waterfalls from this new perspective.

 

We lugged each kayak up the hill to "M," and tried our new method of loading onto the trailer. I think the weight of carrying the boats exacerbated my already swollen left knee from yesterday's hike, so I rested it the rest of the day with Alleve and hands-on nurturing. We are, at this age, stamped with what I refer to as the "used car syndrome." But, it feels damn good to still be able to walk, just with adaptation at times.

Lunch was turkey sandwiches and apple sauce that tasted so refreshing and rewarding. Fun paddle, with not too much acheness. Because of yesterday's eagle viewing while Fred and Louise from West Virginia, fished, we drove into town to buy ourselves fishing permits, in hopes of luring eagles for the Avakian photographer. As we were driving out of the park, without the trailer and boats attached, since we were returning to fish there, Mark had to maneuver "M" to the left side of the road, to avoid trees. A green Subaru Forester came whizzing directly in front of us, rather than practicing common courtesy, and waiting for us to pass. Mark motioned to the trees, I was confused as to what was happening initially, until Mark explained, so I stuck my head out and pointed and yelled about the trees. The guy said, "Fuck the trees, drive on the right side of the road," and sped past us on the right. Not a relaxing effect on our guts. The energy was so raw and took us aback. We had to consciously shake him off.

 

When we got our licenses from the recommended sporting goods store on Main Street, via Fred and Louise, as well as the Pixie bright coral lures, we made a stop at the bakery health food store for treats, and then returned to the park to fish. I needed a rest badly, so laid in "M" while Mark got his gear together and went out to find that fish and eagle. When I was ready to join him, he was at the door, sharing that his fish was stolen by an eagle! He had been there ten minutes, snagged a good size one, when a large eagle swooped down and yanked his catch off his line, and there you have it. So now, Mark gathered his camera with the big zoom lens, decked himself out with his fishing vest, net, hat, and looked like a new man, ready for safari and to capture a repeat performance with that bird, so he could photograph the experience. I was to be another source of bait, as well.

 

 

And who was Mark fishing beside? The asshole in the green Subaru Forester, who was pacing with head-phones on, and then sitting in his car, watching him fish. When I arrived and started my lesson and casting, the guy was giving me cheerful tips. So glad it was a full circle, ending with Mark and me chalking it up to the initial gut-wrenching jerk, having probably been stressed by something in his life, was desperately making his way to his safe place, his haven, the lake, in order to survive and relax. We got the benefit of his  transformation and closure for our relationship with him, thankfully.

A couple from Red Bluffs, CA, with their camper parked by one of the picnic tables, watched us cast, and the man had witnessed Mark's eagle loss, so all were waiting for another, including the two eagles perched in a couple tall pines behind us. Funny. We fished for about 2-3 hours, and Mark was a clear, patient teacher, reminding me how to cast with this pole, how to get wraparounds untangled by jiggling the pole tip in the river and pulling it back towards me. I caught a small, 6" fish, and we released it. Because we were closely huddled by my wee trout, I don't think the eagle(s) noticed or realized we were too much of a wall for interception. So, no more fish blessed our rods, but what a relaxing way to while away the afternoon, by a lovely river and mountains, and chatting with more relaxed vagabond retirees, in no hurry to move on.

 

 

Camp was returning to our original site turn-out on the inlet and by the mountains, with that little waterfall across the road. It remained sunny and warm until about 8 p.m,so we ate outside on lounge chairs, and it felt like a luxurious deck at an expensive lodge or someone's haven home.

No concert viewing tonight, too tired and too late. We want to get a somewhat earlier hitting the road tomorrow, towards Tok, and even closer to Denali. We are amazed by our busy days, yet the views, sensations in our bodies being with these environments has been sensationally rewarding.

Haines Urban Hiking

June 13th

Woke up pleasantly and ready to have my ritual eggs on Saturday (I usually have a protein shake on the week-days, due to early work schedule, and then splurge on week-ends, and thought I'd keep this up while retired, too), so Mark consented to going out to Haines. Broke camp, found what I perceived a local man with a white, white, long beard, ruddy complexion, walking his cocker spaniel and golden retriever old girls or boys, a block up from the main street of town, asked him where's a good place for breakfast, and he alluded to the fact there aren't many in Haines, but then pointed out the Lighthouse Restaurant by the waterfront or the Bamboo Room, and referred us to the first. Breakfast was good at the Lighthouse, Mark having eggs benedict with the thickest sliced ham yet on this dish, and I had an egg on plate-round pancake, and sausage. Good!

Afterwards, because we were really recuperating from aching legs, knees, and overall bodies, from the previous hike, we decided urban hiking was in the works for today's exercise. The local farmers' market was at the tiny fairgrounds, where there was also a delightfully gated community garden, and a row of touristy looking fronted old town stores. A woman sold her beautiful, nicely qualitied photographs in frames, cards, and in earrings, pendants for necklaces, that were lovely. She and her husband travel consistently, and her photos were of nature locally, throughout Alaska, and also the Northwest. 

 

This gallery, housed in a barnwood grey cabin on the hillside of Fort Seward, was finally open when we circled back towards the town. The owner greeted us on his porch, and we spent several minutes visiting with him, and complimenting his artwork of native northwest coast tribes, that he has copied and/or been inspired by, since he learned to carve with other fellow Boy Scouts here in Haines, where he was born and raised. Mark was tempted by a loon woman mask carving from birch, and lovely woman within a sea lion carving done out of camphor wood, the sculptor found on Maui, but stopped himself due to prices and also because the artist was not of native background, so it would not be a true cultural piece; although the man is a very skilled artisan. I felt the same. The man did not know of the native philosophy of allowing totems to not be refurbished or touched-up, and when or if fallen, to allow them to return to the earth, which Mark had known and the Tlingit woman in Teslin had confirmed, as well. The guy assumed the reason was due to the natives not taking pride in their homes or belongings; therefore, totems were not of the exception either. We thought this odd that he wouldn't be aware of this way of life of the people he imitates so well.

 

 

It was an enjoyable, low-keyed town exploration, and we, even more exhausted, returned to stay at Chilkoot Lake campground, where we spent a nap-time in someone else's claimed pot, two days ago. Lunch was grilled cheese and tomato soup, and then a two hour nap, latter surprising us, and validating our old bones from yesterday's hike. A leisurely walk long the river got the juices flowing more, easing the sleep-slugginess out of us. A merganzer duck mama was perched on a river rock with looked like 4 ducklings, near strong currents. When we were coming back, all five were in the water, and it looked as though this was a swim lesson across the currents to the quieter water and shoreline. Those tiny ducklings just skirted across and through the rapids so quickly and easily, with mama in the back for security.

At the day use area, by the boat launch and picnic tables, we saw a wide-winged bald eagle sloop down, about three feet above this couple, the man just reeling in a Dolly Varden from the river's edge. The bird thought it was his catch, until realization of the man and his claim. It then flew behind the couple and parking lot, perching on a pine limb for close to 15 minutes, just patiently waiting. When the guts and head were thrown in the river, that eagle was right there, on the large triangular rock by the people, and then in the water, grasped those entrails and head, and zoomed to the left into the trees. Magnificent sight to behold! This retired couple from West Virginia, had just started fishing again, and not for 12 years, so this was a fine initiation.

A father and his just high school graduated son from North Carolina, joined us with the W. VA couple, and grilled latter about the lure they used, also having witnessed the eagle event. Turned out there were three engineers in the father, the West VA man, and Mark, with the son intending to study aerospace engineering either in Texas or University of Seattle. The young man was given a gift by his dad, to do a trip together. The parent predicted it'd be somewhere like Prague or Budapest, but his son wanted to do his third Alaska. They were going to be airdropped at a lodge for 4 days, and then off to Sitka and then home.

Nice day. More revived and refreshed by this afternoon's eagle, and interactions with nice people. Dinner of a delicious omelet with chicken apple sausage, bacon bits, swiss cheese and peaches, yum, prepared by the male chef, and then finishing the day with Eric Clapton's festival of magnificos.

Seduction Point Hike

June 12th

Pulled out of our lovely turn-out campsite, while the two vans who slid in after we did, lazed around longer---one from California, the other from The Yukon. Sang "happy birthday" to 7 y.o. Kyra, as we drove. She got her beads and bracelet kits I sent from Jasper, told her they were from Canada, and that we were in Alaska now, which she liked. The tooth fairy left her a dollar for her old front tooth, and she was making one of her bracelets as we spoke, with a party for her tomorrow.
 

Mark has been sharing his wonderful former experiences with me, and this trail in Chilkat State Park was one of them. It led us for a 7 mile round trip, through dark woods, starting at the trailhead with a huge pile of the blackest bear scat in the middle of the walk, and kind of dribbled along the path for a bit. Yes, I was nervous, thought about just having our bear spray, as compared to the Maureen gal we met at Liard hotsprings, equipped with her shotgun, machete AND spray, and the Lewis and Clark core discovery group describing these fearsome, invincible bears (grizzlies) that would not go down with one or even two gunshots. Walking with bells on our walking sticks, I made sure to emphasize mine with stronger jolts on the ground, throughout the entire jaunt.

 

 

The trail took us through the dark to more open, airy woodlands, with consistent ups and downs, over rooted and rocked footage, demanding one to keep an awareness of watching the ground, most of the time. There were beautiful wildflowers of white tansy, buttercups, prickly roses, and dark orange columbine, and other multi-tiered yellow flowers and violet type blossoms, with bogs of giant leafed skunk cabbage and lovely ferns. In 40 minutes, we made it to a meadow that opened out onto the Chilkat Inlet and more stunning and quamarine colored glaciers across the waters, where we rested on the shore rock.

 

 Another hour and we came to our goal of Twin Coves, with two curved small bays, lined with black and grey-rust colored rocks for the beaches. Here, we lunched on our PBJs, and then Mark assumed I would want to walk around the bend to get a closer look at the longest and bluest glacier, Davison, which is what he did on his last visit. This was a treat, since I didn't realize we could do this. Luckily, our walking sticks assisted our carefully placed steps over some sharp and then fairly accommodating flatter rocks, to discover the most glorious, up-close and personal view of the glacier. He also discovered the rock chair that we most comfortably cozied in, while staring at the vision of the bluest turquoise-aquamarine glacier yet, and the closest to the shoreline.

Other rock formations around us were beautiful colors of the rust, gold, with the white circles of dried moss creating gorgeous art, and one had an almost petroglyphed design of graceful foliage carved into the length of the dark grey stone. Long, lyrical grasses added to this perfect setting and moment.

Trekking back, we both became more fatigued with each step up or low-down, and were happy to see the whiteness of "M" through the wooded trailhead. We drove to the nearby day-use area, and parked nearest the bay on the right, with the view of Rainbow and Davison glaciers in front of us, a field of fireweed, yellow tansy and white flowers, tall grasses swaying. The sun was shining, we showered, rested, then Mark BBQ'd luscious salmon burgers for dinner. It was our own private nesting area, with only a few vehicles driving to the end of the road and boat ramp for a few minutes, and then leaving us alone.

Mark found a geocache at the end of the road, through the wooded area which led to an open, sunny Rocky Beach. Lots of rocks and grasses, but no specific site nor clue for the treasure cache, but a lovely stroll at the end of the day, with that long-lasting sunlight gracing us another day. We sat outside for awhile, said good-bye to this paradise, to find that turn-out on another part of the inlet, to slumber by.

Watched Eric Clapton's Crossroads Concert, again, with amazing musicians; most I had never heard of, so was so glad they were acknowledged to a public like us and their audience. Mark and I kept hedging on turning it off, since the music was too mesmerizing, but finally did, close to 11 p.m. Longer bedtimes since on the road, due to combination of daylight energy and watching such fun, interesting footage on the TV he has collected, and/or writing, chatting.

Went to bed after gazing at another unreal mountain, water camp picture.

On To Haines

June 11th

Another breath-taking water and mountain view, at Chilcoot Inlet, in Haines, Alaska, a turn-out campsite. We started out at the Chilcoot Lake campground, waited, napped until a young family came back and claimed their spot, which we were wondering would happen. The next door couple and we were unsure if they were returning, or put the wrong date down, since they left no sign of occupancy, as most campers do when leaving. Mark has a great orange cone with "occupied," on it.

He camped at this quiet road site 2 and 4 years ago, as well as in the campground, but prefers the open and light environment of our current one, with the on the water experience, vs. the darker, mosquito-ridden spot. This works great for me, and, if we want, we will go back early tomorrow, to possibly claim a lake spot.

 

 

The drive on the Haines Hwy., was another unique and outrageous view, with glaciated mountains at one point, ranging from north to south, a chain of connected mountains with the widest, fullest glaciers. Amazing. We stopped in Haines Junction at a most wonderful bakery deli, bought more scrumptious cinnamon rolls and a roll with dried tomatoes, spinach, cheese, and shared halves of the cinnamon roll immediately in "M."

Almost 8, and still light, breezy on this mountain, water country, listening to George Winston's "Montana, A Love Story," piano lullabies, eating chicken parmagiana from one of those miraculously easy frozen stir fries. A most peace-filled, uplifting moment.

Atlin, BC

June 10th

Atlin Lake stay was scrumptious lazing for us, for 2 days. We sat in the sun gazing at this lake and the snow-capped peaks across from us, closed eyes, and got somewhat sunburned that first night, 6/9. Dinner was eaten on the picnic table that first night, and we visited, Mark wanted to hear my journal, and we bedded tired.

 

Yesterday, we lazed, Mark made me coffee to have in bed, while I read---a luxury I loved indulging in. We then thought we were going to take a flat bike ride to the end of the road, to the "Grotto," listed on the map, and then to test the heat at the "public warmsprings." Well, it was not a flat ride up that gravel road, and I swore a bit to myself initially, walking the bike part way, then finally, via Mark's instruction, got back on and paced myself, with my chest almost touching my belly-button, and rarely looking up, and decreased the pedaling rotations once realizing I could, and was surprised when I made it to the flatland.

 

The Grotto was another free Provincial Recreation Site with two camp spaces, next to a pretty creek. Riding away and down the road to the warm springs, where a RV was parked in the meadow, I stripped down to my shorts, put on my aqua shoes to test the waters of the pond, where, in the middle, waters were swirling. I stepped into that spot, where it was lukewarm pleasant, like a warm heated swimming pool, but not hot. Fun though, and a pretty spot of a bond, with a stream leading out of it.

Back at the "M," we relaxed some more, I worked on catching up on my jounaling and correspondence, Mark read his National Geographics and strummed his guitar, and then started his infamous tuna noodle casserole, which we both adore---comfort food one can be sure of.

Finished my thank yous for retirement and Mother's Day gifts, which was very satisfying, and one more thing off my list.

Our new neighbor from Whitehorse, Fay, chatted with us in the windy campsite last night, had had a flat tire a resident near the Warm Bay campground helped her fix. She was a talkative, inquisitive, funny gal, retired, and would be there only for an overnight. Her cat is her duty to return to. She had a great, 12' old fibre-glassed kayak, patched here and there, and was going to tough-out the windy night in her tent, facing the lake. Later that night, close to a still-light 10 p.m., she knocked on "M's" door and looking down at her, she gifted us with a copy of a book, with Yukon hikes, she had discovered an extra of. Very nice and sweet.

Today, we left our beloved Atlin Lake fairly early for Whitehorse, BC, got tires replaced for the trailer at a place Mark had visited 4 years ago, where they did him a favor, so he wanted to return the business; marketed and did laundry, while Mark fulfilled all the necessaries for the RV, e.g. getting water and propane, dumping waste waters. I used to enjoy my down-time at laundromats in San Francisco, Humboldt. It gave me time to write, primarily, and this was full circle now, with this reminiscing.

We were so tired after errands, and decided to camp at the local Walmart. Holy roses, it looks like there are more RVs, like elephants, gracing this parking lot than autos! There are those that look as if the tenants have been squatting here for a time, one with two flat tires and an older model. It's kind of like camping in a rock concerts field, like at The Gorge. Mark laughs at this analogy, while reading emails from Eric, who had a bad flat tire on the Hwy. 101, with mate Angela, on their way to the Benbow Inn, near Avenue of the Giants, via my recommendation. They are on their way to a wedding in Sonoma. Both are fine, but sounded like a scary blowout, with some damage to their fender when it flatted.

Signing off, to watch the second part of Lewis and Clark---can't wait!