Onward South

Faced with the prospect of three days of riding and camping in the rain to get down to Whitehorse, I decided, instead, to fly. I grabbed the last seat on the next flight and found myself sitting across the isle from a guy named Joe from Vancouver. He had just spent 8 days on a back country canoe trip before taking in the Dawson City Music Festival. Small world, it turned out that he knew my friends Teresa and Brook from Inuvik. 

Aside from (or maybe because of) several unexpected portages on a swollen river and a nearly-trip-ending massive puncture in the canoe caused by a river-born tree, it sounded like it was an interesting adventure. I would normally consider canoeing to be a tame activity, but this was a serious trip for sure.

Whitehorse a pretty town, full of funky murals and friendly, talkative locals. With a population 20,000, it may be the largest city in the Yukon (population 30,000), but it is still small. It's the kind of place in which you actually have to call for a cab from the airport - and be prepared to share it. Joe and I grabbed dinner at one of the three places open on a Sunday night in downtown Whitehorse, did a walking tour and played some shoe golf (it's just like it sounds - only works with flip flops). 

From Whitehorse, I boarded a historic train that took me over White pass and down to the Skagway, Alaska, which is basically a disneyfied Dawson City. From there, I boarded a ferry that, over the next three and a half days, would take me down the Alaska Marine Highway System to Bellingham, Washington.