These are the Chronicles of Famous Surf Writer Ben Marcus and his trip into the Wilds of the Alaskan Frontier.
Latest Update: October 16, 2000

11:22 YUKON TIME ROOM 5 OF THE COZY CORNERS MOTEL

Good morning. Frank just brought breakfast: two eggs scrambled, sausage, hash browns, toast, coffee. Nothing special, but it seems like the right thing to eat here in the Yukon.

Gotta get out of here. Checkout time was 10:00, so hopefully they won't ding us for a third day.

I need to get out of here after a long, sedentary media Sunday yesterday. Didn't do nothing but sit in Room 5, watch satellite TV and surf the internet. Irresponsible, perhaps, but it seemed like the thing to do. A day of rest. Sunday, you know?

I watched lots of CNN and BBC News, and the 49ers lose to the Packers, and a pretty exciting playoff game between the Mets and the Cardinals. Frank went out and took a long hike during most of this, but he came back in time for baseball, and I tried to explain the rules to him. What seems like a simple game gets complicated when you try to explain it rule by rule to someone who doesn't understand it.

Frank also explained something to me, and cleared up a clinging curiosity. I have watched Saving Private Ryan a dozen times and know it inside and out. One thing that wasn't clear was some of the spoken German that wasn't translated on my DVD. There is a scene at the end where Mellish and a Nazi Stormtrooper are in a fight to the death, and the Nazi coos some things into the ear of Mellish as he is jabbing a knife into his heart.

Frank translated all that for me. It's pretty brutal.

So, nothing adventurous yesterday. Breakfast like this morning, lots of TV and hours and hours of online chatting. With the internet, you're never too isolated or lonely. I can spend the whole day talking with people without having anyone in the room.

Had an online chat with Buzzy Kerbox last night. He told me Don King's ex-wife shot her new husband in the head and killed him. Nice.

This is the modern world.

So, out of here. Breakfast is done. I'm supposed to be in Sequim today, but that's not gonna work. Hopefully I can call them and postpone, but I'll probably end up just paying the fine. Not fair, but oh well.

Might just take Frank up to Dawson and then the something-something Highway, for his appointment with the fur trapper. Or I might drop him off in White Horse to hitch his way up there. Not sure if I'll drive back by way of the Cassiar Highway and Prince Rupert and the ferry, or if I will go farther east and drive home through Montana or Idaho.

No sense in retracing my steps.

I go where the Four Winds take me. I'll probably keep wandering. As long as I'm seeing something new, I'm okay.