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These are the Chronicles of Famous Surf Writer Ben Marcus and his trip into the Wilds of the Alaskan Frontier.
Latest Update:
October 19, 2000

18:43 YUKON TIME THE CZECH EMBASSY, DAWSON YUKON, CANADA CITY,

Czech Frank is apologizing, again. He and Dave, Brother of Trapper Pete are running off to go use the frontloader, and finish the job Czech Frank ran off to do this morning, the first time he apologized. Czech Frank is being hospitable, making sure we have coffee and cookies. Czech Frank is apologizing, with European manners, for running off again, and now he is apologizing to German Frank for not remembering to tell him that his girlfriend called from Germany, "She seemed to be sorry that she didn't catch up with you," Czech Frank is saying.

Czech Frank is putting on his blue jump suit to go work the frontloader.

"Maybe tomorrow it is 30 below and I cannot start the thing, you know?" Czech Frank is saying. "So I go do an hour of work, and then, oh by golly, I have to be in Dawson City at ten minutes to eight because they are counting the ballots. I am running for councilor for Dawson, there are four of them under the mayor. Maybe I win, maybe nobody vote for me, I don't know. But later I come back at nine o clock and ve vatch this movie on this machine of yours, okay? This movie I vant to see."

Imagine all of these words spoken by Count Dracula, which is as close to Czech Frank's Czech/Canadian/Russian accent as I am gonna get. "I theenk maybe 300 to 400 voters from all around, but I really don't know if I am going to get any votes."

I am here to show Czech Frank Saving Private Ryan on DVD. I don't know exactly how old he is or when he left the Old Country, but I suspected it was a movie he'd be interested in.

Earlier today I set up the DVD and asked Czech Frank to translate the scene at the top of the cliffs in Normandy, where two Czech conscripts come out of the trenches with their hands up, pleading in Czech, but are shot by the Americans.

After Czech Frank got over the amazement of watching a movie on a laptop computer, he tried to translate, but he didn't think they were speaking Czech. He was fascinated by the movie and the technology, and he watched for a while, then stood up.

"I am very sorry but I have a front-loader outside and I think maybe tomorrow it is 30 below zero and I am not able to start the thing, I don't think. So maybe now I go outside and use the front-loader and do two or three hours of work, but maybe you come back tonight and I like to watch this movie? I was born in 1941 and I go through all this sheet viz the Nazis and all. This is of interest to me."

That was fine with me. German Frank and I had come by the Czech Embassy to see if Trapper Pete had shown up, but the only other person there was Dave, Brother of Trapper Pete, a guy from Alberta who drives a nice Ford F250. It was snowing today, snowing pretty good. Softly, but non-stop.

So Czech Frank and Dave, Trapper Pete's Brother went off to use the front-loader, while German Frank and I went back to town.

Back in Dawson City, I returned the keys to the Aurora Inn, where we stayed last night. This was a brand-spanking-new Bed and Breakfast in town, with a big-screen TV and all the amenities. We rolled into there last night around 9:30, after hanging out in the pizza parlor for awhile. It was a little cheaper than the hotels and it was all very clean and pleasant, although the Dutch woman running the place was maybe a little pushy.

There was a vicious rumor zooming around the internet that swell.com was going online last night, but I never saw it. I played gin until the wee hours, once again, and kept typing in www.swell.com to see if anything was up. It never came up.

When I woke up, I finally found www.swell.com, the completed version.

I looked at most of the stuff I did: I poked around in the surf map of North Central California, which, luckily for all involved, did not have my name on it.

So, swell.com is finally up. Now I'm curious to see if it's gonna make dollar one.

We lazed around until about 13:00, and then got lucky when the owner of the joint, Rene, let us check out late. We went straight to the Czech Embassy, left there and spent the rest of the day killing time in Dawson City, which isn't very easy to do this time of year.

What did I do? There were some highlights. I tried to buy some beaver pelt gloves, but found out they are a special item, usually made by trappers for friends. They sell for around $100 to $150.

I bought some books on the Klondike Gold Rush, stern-wheelers on the Yukon River and a gold-panning instructional.

I read the Yukon book and could only imagine what it must have been like to make 30 trips back and forth over the Chilkoot Pass, carrying a ton of food and supplies from Dyea to Lake Bennet, back in the day.

Hopefully those guys all wore beaver pelt gloves.

I had nachos for lunch at the Sourdough Lounge in the Downtown Hotel.

At the pizza place with the world's slowest computers, I met a girl who saw my California license plates and struck up a conversation .Turns out she was about to drive her motorcycle all the way to California along the coast.

"Where should I go?" she said.

"What do you want to do?" I asked.

"Learn how to surf!" she said.

"I think I can help you there," I said. And I did. Her lucky day, to meet an important, surf-connected guy like me.

While driving around Dawson City I did some serious slipping and sliding, and saw at least two people laughing and pointing in the direction of the van. My tires are all, all wrong. I'm outta here, tomorrow. I'm not going to risk going further north-although it is very tempting to go all the way to the mouth of the Mackenzie-unless Trapper Peter says it's okay. (He just arrived)

Yes, Trapper Pete is outside somewhere. Czech Frank just bust in, swearing, because he is late for the City Council election. He'l be back at 21:00 and then we're going to watch some history on DVD.

I've seen Saving Private Ryan a dozen times, but I never get tired of it. That first 30 minutes is unbelievable, and all I can think while watching it is:

Thank God for nuclear weapons.

That's it for now. Au revoir.

 

 


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