There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Artic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee
When the RV was ready around noon, we headed toward Dawson City on the Klondike Loop, first going into the Lake LeBarge government campground for a close-up look at the lake and remembering fondly Robert Service's poem. A camper there tells us that fisherman go through the narrows at one end of the Big Island and into the Yukon River to fish.
Then a wonderful stop by Mom's Bakery on the campground road gets us a still warm from the oven loaf of sourdough bread. Later a stop at the general store in Carmacks for New England clam chowder in a can (where are Sam and Inez when you need them.)
We found the perfect place to stay the night at the turnout J 116.3 overlooking Five Finger Rapids Recreation Site, so named because four rock pillars form five channels or fingers of the Yukon River. 219 steps of stairway lead to a trail that goes to the rapids. It is easy going down.
Wilma had a need to do some mountain climbing and headed across the highway to see how far she could go up. It was tough finding footholds, as she had no pickax, and only got about ten feet up.
We met a couple from Saskatchewan, who live in Dawson City now, and gave us tips on visiting Mayo and Keno on our way back from Dawson.
The temperature got to 81 degrees F, the sun dropped behind the mountains at 11:30 P at the position of 11:00 on the virtual directional clock, and the sun appeared to rise the next morning at the 2:30 position. It didn't really rise; it just moved around. Dinner was, as you guessed it, clam chowder in a San Francisco sourdough bowl, and it was great sleeping with the windows open and the lull of the rapids below.
Pictures are here.
Walldog, Willie and Jake