We listened to the wind whistling through the trees throughout the night and woke to cloudy skies this morning. The Congdon Creek Campground is a right on the shores of Kluane Lake and is a government run site and is quite well kept. However, it is also the scene of one of the most frightful sights. While sipping the first cup of coffee and trying to pry the eyes open for the day’s drive ahead, movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention. However, the source of the movement turned out to be far more frightening than perhaps even meeting a bear head-on along a dark and narrow path. The occupant of the site next to us was darting from his camper over to grab his cloths that were hanging from a line that he had strung between two trees. The trouble was that his clothes were on the line—and NOT on him. It is a shame that, in spite all of the wonderful scenery and gorgeous vistas that we taken in for the last two weeks, this image is now burned indelibly into my mind. Moreover, I found myself pondering a question that I had not–and could not have, until this moment–even contemplated or conceived as a matter of inquiry: Why is it that the hair on the head turns grey and not the hair down below? And, no, please don’t perpetuate this with replies offering theories. I really don’t need to know. As I now try to claw the residual imprint of the old naked man running around his campsite from my retinas, I can only hope that time does indeed heel all wounds.
We headed out fairly early this morning only to realize later that we had actually crossed time zones and effectively lost an hour. This also explains why it seemed to be getting dark notably earlier than previous nights. We stopped at Haynes Junction for fuel and pushed on to Whitehorse where we found civilization: Starbucks. The Starbucks was across the parking lot of a Walmart–I never said it was high-class civilization– which was littered with ratty old RVs, trailers and campers who had apparently set up long term residence. In fact, the Walmart lot even had a RV dump station, potable water, and propane available. At least now I know where we can go if we have to succumb to permanently living out of the RV. Heck, with my cheery and positive disposition perhaps I could even get a job as a greeter too. Starbucks was refreshing as well as humbling as they firmly corrected my order to a “Grande”. You just can’t win.
This one really gave me a chuckle. I also love the picture.. Love Mom and Papa