Latest Update: August 8, 2001 by Ben Marcus

22:00 PT MONDAY AUGUST 6, 2001 THE LOUNGE AT HOTEL CARMACKS

ODOMETER
TRIP METER

MONEY

Gas in Watson Lake:
Gas in Faro: $21.50
Fish burger and fries in Carmacks: $15.00

Made it to Carmacks from Watson Lake in a day. Last October, it took me two days to go from Carmacks to Watson Lake, but the weather was snowy and icy and sketchy and I didn't know where I was going so I had to take it easy.

This time I flew along the Campbell Highway, and nearly took out the bottom of the van at least five times. I wonder if I'm doing any permanent damage down there. I know it's got six inches of dust on the exterior, but I wonder about the interior. Oh well. So far so good. The only real glitch in the past year has been the battery, and that's my fault, trying to charge a computer and play the radio and leave the interior light on, all at the same time. I don't think car batteries were meant to handle all that.

Turns out I passed the place where they mined the lead that goes into a majority of all the car batteries in the United States and the world. That would be Faro, a dying town with a nice visitor's center that used to be the company town for the largest lead/zinc open pit copper mine in Canada. The mine opened in 1969 and closed a few years ago, and now the once-proud town of Faro is fading away. It's a shame to see it, but at least the Visitor Center was going strong when I was there: A bunch of kids wearing funny hats, a pretty girl behind the desk and a laptop with an Internet link. I found 25 messages waiting for me, most of them words of congratulations for finding Ike. There were also a couple from Team Russia, wondering if this thing is going to happen.

They're asking me?

Anyway, going backward a little, I rolled out of Watson Lake this morning just glad to have Ike with me. He whined the whole way, meowing, meowing, meowing about who knows what, because I let him out to run several times, fed him constantly and scratched him in my lap whenever he demanded it. But he whined, whined, whined, meow meow moew. Stupid cat. Glad to have him, though. The Campbell Highway would have been an even lonelier drive without him.

Last year I did the Campbell Highway in October and it was sketchy with a capital S. I did the drive from Ross River to Watson Lake on the second day through rain and snow and sleet and hail. I didn't see another car for almost 200 miles of white-knuckle driving. I remembered passing a lot of really nice-looking rivers and creeks that were icing over, but I couldn't really enjoy any of it because I was afraid of blowing a tire or skidding into a ditch, and freezing to death.

This time the hazard was dust and the occasional oncoming truck or construction vehicle. You have to slow when approaching oncoming vehicles because there's always the chance of getting squirrelly in the gravel at the wrong time, and having a collision with the only car to pass you in an hour.

Traffic was about one car every 45 minutes, mostly Indians and a dingaling tourist or two. The weather was gray and overcast but no rain, so the drive was kind of disappointing. The area looks better under snow and winter light, it's just no fun to drive like that.

I drove and drove and drove and listened to Ike meow, meow, meow but didn't enjoy the scenery as much as in October. The Campbell Highway is even more wild and remote than the Cassiar Highway. Last year I stopped every once in a while to cap off a round or two from Mr. Walther, but this year I don't have that option. Mom still has Mr. Walther locked up in a safe deposit box, and I don't think I'll see him soon.

One of my online correspondents, a woman back east, actually sent an e-mail to my mom asking her to give me back my bullets. I wouldn't mind getting Mr. Walther up in Alaska for the drive back.

I also had a pretty bad toothache for a lot of the drive, and it drove me nuts. I thought I had bought some Anbesol in Smithers, and stopped a few times to look for it. Never found it. The toothache was really bad for awhile, and I almost went to the health clinic in Ross River to get some morphine syringes of a sledge hammer or something. Pain is very distracting.

So just a lot of miles today. I stopped in Ross River where I had gotten a hotel room last year, but there was absolutely nothing going on there. These towns are profoundly out in the middle of nowhere, and businesses just don't make it. Faro was a little farther on and doing a little better. The Visitor Center was the best place to be, with a bunch of little kids wearing funny hats and several little girls falling in love with Ike. Faro had some pride at one time, it's obvious from the signs leading into town and the Visitor Center and the Faro pins and flags they sell there. But Faro is coughing up blood. Most of the houses are deserted and for sale, with a few people having a go at Bed and Breakfasts. As I said, it's sad to see.

It was another 111 kilometers from Faro to Highway 2 and Carmacks. The road was mostly paved and ran along the might Yukon toward the end. The Yukon is just a big, beautiful river that runs for a long, long way. I met a guy in Skagway last year who canoed it all from Bennet Lake to the ocean and it took him three months. This is the river the gold rushers of 1896 used to get to the goldfields in Dawson City, and it's hard to imagine a better river for navigating in sketchy rafts thrown together with chopped-down trees. The Yukon is wide and flat and flows at a nice clip. It's a super-highway for rafters. Scenic, too.

So now I'm in Carmacks, where a drunk Indian woman called me a "fucking white man" last year. Now there's a semi-drunk Indian buying 12 beers at the bar, and getting the bartender mad at him. There are a lot of regulations about booze in the Yukon, and it isn't for the haole. It's for the Indians. Like native people everywhere I've been, from Hawaii to Fiji to Tonga to Neah Bay, the First Nation people cannot handle alcohol. If the government could get away with it, they wouldn't sell to them at all.

When I pulled in I went straight to the bar and handed over a hotel key I had kept last fall. The bartender was jazzed. I think this was the hotel where I shorted out the electricity with the bad battery cables that Czech Frank had given me.

After that I went and had dinner at the local restaurant: a fried fish sandwich and French fries. I have to start eating better.

Now I'm back in the lounge, trying to have intelligent conversations about Russia and surfing and tidal bores with drunk people. I don't like drunk people. They very often are unintelligible and as we have already established in these pages, unintelligible people are very rude.

"Stairway to Heaven" is on the jukebox. This place reeks of cigarette smoke and I'm hoping to get an internet hookup. Nope, that didn't work. Every time this machine tried to dial up the Canadian 800 number, it made the bar phone ring. Oh well.

Earlier today Evan sent me a "Let's do this" e-mail about the Russia trip, as if I needed more motivation. I'm going to write another Kamchatka Update, send it to everyone and see what happens.

Last night I read the Surfer's Journal with the first Russia article in it, and it got me all fired up. This is the e-mail plea I sent to All Hands last night form the Watson Lake Hotel:

Hansmail, sterling638@hotmail.com, kmalloy74, Greenbarrel@hotmail.com, anthonyruffo@hotmail.com, shooy@cctraders.com, TBrady@oneill.com, rockyrockhold@webtv.net, Doric@hawaii.edu, evan@swell.com, barrett.tester@quiksilver.com, johnmarkel@hotmail.com, trips@girdwood.net, scott.desiderio@atlas-distribution.com, Warshaw9@pacbell.net, amclester@earthlink.net, Gallypacote, Magadanair@AlaskaLife.net, yegor@wildrussia.spb.ru, lstworld@mail.iks.ru, sl2318, nz3000!Nick@flux.ptc.spbu.ru, ken@coolidentity.com, dspphoto@telus.net, colinwhyte@telus.net, scott@surfersjournal.com, Graham@Billabong-USA.com, s.t.marcus@att.net, Dan.Marcus@cexp.com, LeeCrane@CTS.com, Welchgambler, Scsurfgrl27@AOL.com, one_dubsc@hotmail.com

Sunday August 5, 2001

Fellow Travelers,

My stupid cat has been missing since Saturday, and this Russia trip is up in the air, and I am in Watson Lake, Yukon Territory.

I need some cheering up.

I just flipped through the Surfer's Journal article on Russia from a few months ago, and I wonder why any surfer or photographer would hesitate for a minute on this trip. Those guys were in Sakhalin, which is much more protected than Kamchatka, and they got good surf, met killer Natasha babes, ate like kings, made friends and just generally had a great time. I think we will, too, but we have to get this thing kick-started. We already missed the August 4 deadline for the $1312.80 tickets on Magadan for August 19. It's probably too late to get visas for the 19th.

None of you will be able to apply for a Russian visa without an official invitation from Wild Russia, and you won't have that official invitation until you send in your applications.

I suppose we can kick this all up a week or two, and that could be good, because the mosquitoes are still thick in the Yukon, and I'm at a higher latitude now then we will be in Kamchatka. Yvon Chouinard warned me that the mosquitoes are a real drag in Kamchatka, and after Montana, I believe him.

Mosquitoes suck. One is too many, and if by going later it means we'll miss them, then that is okay by me.

So, everyone please send me one e-mail and one e-mail only, Vassily and let me know your status.

Where is the hang-up?

Girlfriends?

Sponsors?

Fear of Russian aircraft?

Stupid fXXXing trade show conflict?

Tell your sponsors that this thing is going to be covered to death: day by day on swell.com and then a mega-article in Surfing (if we get surf) with distribution to other foreign magazines. They'll get their money's worth, I can almost promise.

I suggest you get that Surfer's Journal with Tamayo Perry on the cover and check out the Russia article. Check out the surf they got. Check out the blonde, Nordic-looking Natasha babes, and their big smiles and their big...

I also suggest you get the latest National Geographic and check out the Kamchatka article.

This is going to be the adventure of a lifetime-I just want it to happen in this lifetime.

The whole tidal bore thing is just a big plus.

Let me know what is happening. Communication is important. I'm completely in the dark, even though it's still kind of light at 1:00 in the morning.

"One e-mail and one e-mail only, Vassily."

Ben

And one other thing. Scott Hulet gave me a tentative thumbs up on a Santa Cruz article for The Journal. I've been pestering him to do this for a while, but he was afraid I'd become "The most hated man in Central California."

Well that's what I'm trying to do, so he said go ahead with the article. My plan is to bounce the whole thing off Dave Parmenter's infamous nacho: "Santa Cruz is just Huntington Beach with trees."

Twenty years ago: Fighting words.

Now: More and more the truth.

That'll be the thesis: Santa Cruz is Huntington Beach with trees, true or false.

Now I'm going to try to find an internet hookup.

12:46 PT TUESDAY AUGUST 6, 2001 MINTO RESORT RV PARK, BETWEEN CARMACKS AND PELLY RIVER.

ODOMETER 60748
TRIP METER 4670???

MONEY
Coca Cola at Carmacks Hotel lounge: $1.50

Now I remember why I don't like bars. They are full of drunk people who are often rude and usually unintelligible (see above). Bars are smoky and noisy, and bars in this part of the world are full of drunk Indians, and I feel the white-man's burden.

I bailed out of the lounge of the Carmacks Hotel when it all got too weird and depressing, and hit the road north. I figured I'd find a campground or something along the way, feeling pretty confident they'd all still be open. Last year, Alaska and the Yukon were shutting down around me as I drove in, and by the time I drove out, both places were all but deserted. I guess that's why I'm up here now. I want to see just how crowded all these places get in summer. So far, so good. There's really no one up here.

I drove out of Carmacks and headed north. I must have covered some latitude today because I am now in the land of the midnight twilight. At 12:00 midnight the sky looked like Rosy Colored Dawn, or whatever the Greeks were talking about. It was still twilight at midnight, and I crossed that one of my list of natural phenomena.

The CBC was playing Northern Lights, a 70s era show that makes me nostalgic and weepy. I figured I might drive all the way to Pelly Crossing or even Dawson City to make up for lost time, as long as the light was exotic and the CBC was coming through.

I passed the Five Fingers, a famous spot in the Yukon where a little set of islands create semi-treacherous rapids. Not all that treacherous, really, because I've seen photos of paddle-wheelers and stern-wheelers threading the rapids, going upstream.

Even at night, the Yukon is a dignified, strong, world-class river. It would have been a pleasure to raft down it in summer, which is probably why a lot of the gold people came up here, just to enjoy that adventure.

I finally decided to stop at the RV park I'm now in. I've forgotten the name. There are a lot of people here and they have showers and maybe a Laundromat. I'll do a little cleaning and then head for Dawson City tomorrow. I want to play some cards in the Casino there, and go see Czech Frank maybe and do some interneting.

Now I'm going to get some sleep. Ike is running around right now, enjoying the midnight twilight.

16:33 PT TUESDAY AUGUST 7, 2001 THE GRUBSTAKE, DAWSON CITY, YUKON

ODOMETER
TRIP METER

MONEY

I just walked to the van to get my power cord and heard someone across the way calling my mom to report a lost cat named Ike. Stupid cat.

Dawson City is nice in the summer, much nicer than snowy, icy October when I was sliding all over the place in the van and paying too much to stay in hotels. Being a gold-rusher up here in 1896 would not have been unpleasant at all. At least until winter set in, and if you were ready for winter, with beaver pelt gloves and all that, then it might actually have been pleasant.

Dawson City is tarted up and touristy but it's not too hard to see the 1896 Gold Rush town under the coat of paint. The buildings are all plank boarded and the streets are dusty and it's a nice little town, especially on an August day like this.

Today was nice all the way around. I woke up in a nice place, the Minto Resort RV park, where I had a good night's sleep, not worrying about Ike or anything. Got up around 9:00 and walked around looking for the person to pay. All of the RV's from the night before were gone and the place was mostly deserted.

I found someone in the kitchen of a nice dining room, got a cup of coffee and had a conversation with Pat Mitander, who owns the joint. She spends the summer putting up RVers and caravans, and also feeding busloads of tourists from Skagway and White Horse. She has a nice business going. She also needs a small-scale, portable hydro-electric generator.

I told her about Kamchatka and showed her all the magazines and introduced Ike as he came poking in. He poked out when he saw a big, black dog in the kitchen.

The resort has some nice buildings and a great view of the Yukon, which goes rolling by like the super highway it is. I told her about my Patagonia "That Was Then, This is Now" ad idea, and she liked it. I like it too. Someone should do it. Last night I was reading an article in the Yukon Monthly about Eddie Bauer. Maybe I'll pitch it to them, too.

Anyway, I finally found Ike and we got out of there and hit the road up to Dawson City. I was itching to get an internet connection to see if anyone had responded, and to send the latest Kamchatka Update.

I had the CBC on radio for most of the drive, which was nice. I recognized a lot of the places I passed, including Pelly Crossing and Stewart Crossing, where those two good-sized rivers meet the Mighty Yukon.

Drove and drove about 110 miles and started to come into familiar territory. Passed Beaver Creek where I blasted a road sign with Mr. Walther last year. Passed a place that advertised "Fresh Peas" so I stopped and bugged a lady who was leaving and got $3 worth. Any time I see Fresh Peas, I stop. Oh you betcha, but golly, wow.

Drove into Dawson City which was much greener and less icy than the last time I was here, sliding all around in the van.

Passed Czech Frank's house, which had three lees feet of snow around it. The hills were green and the rivers were flowing and it was really very pleasant. Summertime in Dawson City back in the day must have been very nice indeed. Rich people who had already made it would take steam-ships up to St. Michael in Alaska then stern-wheelers all the way to Dawson City, just to check it out and party. In this weather, and considering it doesn't get truly dark until after midnight, I can see the attraction.

Tonight I'm gonna go play cards at Dirty Gertie's casino. How can I resist? That's the thing to do in a place like this. Maybe I'll win enough to pay for the Russia trip.

Right now I'm at a pizza place with a laptop connection firing off e-mails to one and all. I cruised around Dawson today, saw some beaver pelt gloves for $320 and a lot of really big gold nuggets. Why buy them? I'd rather dig them out.

Scott wants that Santa Cruz article sooner than I thought. Oh well. I have some ideas for illustrations for the Santa Cruz article, so I've sent e-mails to Jim Phillips and others.

Time to get out of here and find a campground and a shower and get ready to hit the town.

Dawson City is nice. The gold people of 1896 had it nice for three or four months out of the year.

00:58 TUESDAY AUGUST 8, 2001 YUKON RIVER CAMPGROUND, DAWSON CITY, UKON

ODOMETER
TRIP METER

MONEY
Internet fees at Grubstake $25
Gambling at Gertie's $45 (oops)

This isn't so bad. It's 1:00 in the morning, still light outside. I'm listening to "Northern Lights" on CBC One, and I had a good day.

Dawson City is nice in the summer, as I said. It's easy to imagine gold miners back in the day working their asses off all summer long, trying to get rich so they could get out before the freeze. Not sure how it worked, exactly, but it wasn't all wolves and ice, as Jack London would have it. This place is the Land of Milk and Honey in summer.

I went to Dirty Gertie's twice and had a few moments. I hit my first three tries playing roulette, using my usual numbers. The girl with the roulette ball was too quick though, and didn't let me get down my bets. I don't think she made me lose at all, but she needs to learn some technique. I was up about $30 and then left to take care of my laundry. Before leaving I asked when the "Can Can" show started. The guys at the door told me 10:3. When I got outside I thought, "Oh no problem, I have hours." But it was already 9:30. This is the first time I've been in a place that stays light this long. It's weird and it's cool.

So I took care of the laundry and looked for Ike and then went back to Dirtie Gerty's. I played blackjack and did pretty well, but chickened out at playing Texas Hold Em with $5 chips. Even though it was only Canadian.

The Can Can show was okay and kind of silly. There were four nice-looking girls kicking up their skirts every chance they got and flashing more underwear-covered crotch than Stuff Magazine, FHM and all those other new-fangled clothed crotch magazines.

In the end I lost about $45, when I could have walked out with $45 but I didn't begrudge the loss. All of the money from the casino goes to Dawson City improvements and that's a good thing. They're building a skating rink next door to the casino. That was a fun night. Not too hard to imagine what it was like back in the day, real Can Can and casinos populated with swells off the sternwheelers and the grubby guys from the fields.

I like Dawson City, as I've said. The real thing is still there, just under the surface.

I got out of there after the Can Can, rounded up Ike and made for the ferry. There is a free ferry that runs back and forth across the mighty Yukon, and I needed to take it to get to the Yukon River Campground.

The ferry swings sideways in the current and the driver uses some skills to plant the bow on the opposite bank. But I guess if you do that maneuver 100 times a day, you get it wired.

Found the camp, let Ike out, unloaded some of the extremely dusty plastic boxes and such from the back, and sat down to write for a while. It was 1:00 in the morning and still light. I just think that is so cool for some reason.

I have lots of things to write now. The Santa Cruz article for TSJ is going to keep me thinking for a while, but I've got plenty ideas and now it's just a matter of structure, structure, structure.

Someone wants me to help them write a movie, but I can't talk about that.

In Fairbanks I'm going to print up Fin and the Deus ex Machina proposal and send it out there and see if anyone salutes it.

Steve Hawk flowed me a writing assignment from Horizon Air which is affiliated with Alaskan Airlines. I want to write a thing on surfing Alaska for Alaskan Airlines and Horizon wants me to do a piece on Tofino/Ucluelet. There are other stories I want to write so I'm going to pitch them:

Last Frontier Heli Skiing.

The Cassiar Highway.

Dawson City

And see if they bite.

Now I'm in a coffee shop at 10:23 in the morning. Ike is in the van and I put my "Just Drunk, Not Protesting" bumper sticker on the front of the van.

Going to check e-mail, see if I have any money, buy some gas if I do nd then take the ferry back acoss the Yukon and head for the Top of the World Highway. I'm headed for Fairbanks now, by way of Tok, where I got snowed in last year.

Fairbanks within two days, I guess, then up to ANWR, across the Arctic Circle. That's another thing I want to write for someone: A Trip to ANWR, in which I answer all my nagging questions about oil.