Welcome to the Yukon!

Our longest drive thus far brought us to Watson Lake. On the drive there was the occasional beauty of the landscape and the smoldering remains of a forest fire. Isabelle’s ability to spot wildlife is unparalleled (except perhaps by Claire’s ability to spot celebrities in NYC). We pulled over to watch a black bear pick through the long grasses on the side of the highway and just when we were about to leave, up popped a baby bear on his hind legs peaking around the tall leafy greens that his mother was feasting on. This is perhaps the cutest thing we have ever witnessed. The baby bear frolicked behind his mother (the mother unperturbed by the leaps the baby made onto her back) and played like a young puppy, mischievously and with a spring in his step. We remained watching for longer than I care to admit making cooing noises and exclaiming with glee every time the baby bear even moved.

Watson Lake, the second largest “city” in the Yukon (a whopping 900 people)… is not what you’re picturing or perhaps it is. Let me elaborate. We roll in at about 8:30 and have spent half of our drive conceiving of the perfect meal for that night, quesadillas with asparagus and the cheddar cheese that is currently melting in our not cool cooler (we haven’t replenished the ice since the beginning for our trip except the snow we tried to use a few days ago). The entrance to Watson Lake is lined with beautifully colored Yukon flags and flags representing a random handful of nations. It looks promising. We drive around for about ten minutes trying to find the “city” center and realize that we have already passed it. It consists of a few stores and gas stations. Fine, all we need is a grocery store anyway, not a bustling metropolis. Guess we also don’t need to go to the movies tonight either. Unfortunately the grocery store is closed and a local informs us that the only other places to buy food are the two gas stations. I think we should write a camping cookbook because we still managed to make a delicious concoction out of all the canned goods we bought.

Our first attempt to stay somewhere for the night was unsuccessful. We were greeted with, “Not tenting! Also, can you drive slower?” We don’t like being scolded and resigned to despise this so called city. Our second attempt at first appeared no better, though we got a spot, we were called children, and the wide green expanse that was promised turned out to be neither wide nor green and was mere feet away from a dilapidated shed. Also the killer mosquitoes were out by the dozens. The free wireless did not reach our tent and so we huddled in our car updating the blog and checking e-mail when an employee knocked on our window to see if we were lost (embarrassing).

We found our way to kitchen, stumbling upon the entire all male staff of the RV/tenting park (an attractive lot with adorable Canadian accents) and some delicious steak. What a few hours of good conversation and friendly people can change. Also, one of our greatest fantasies was realized. Because we were now friendly with the owner we were taken into the convenience store and told we could take anything we wanted, aisles of candy, ice cream, crackers. While Isabelle and Rachel took full advantage I sadly and stupidly decided I wasn’t hungry at the time. It also revealed through of conversations that the mean old man that scolded us was the big cheese of the town and not particularly loved by the locals. We would not be eating at Archie’s the next morning for breakfast. Our once resentment towards the Yukon now changed into a fond memory of one of our most enjoyable nights hanging with the locals until the early morning. Also thanks to our new friends we were able to procure wood for our sign for the signpost village.

The signpost village is made up of an expanse of poles reaching into the sky covered in creative greetings from all of Watson Lake’s visitors. A total of over 60,000 remnants of travelers who clearly only stayed the night. Some merely stated the hometown of the visitor, some were elaborate representations of their hometown. Ours stated Denver, Abington and Lincoln and the distance to each place. While adding our mark to the now loved city one of our new friends showed up and asked if we wanted to go on a 15 minute local adventure. Climbing hesitantly into his large truck we were taken on a series of winding roads at breakneck speeds to get incredible views of the namesake of the town, Watson Lake. As a result of our time in Watson lake we were taught the age old lesson, first impressions can be deceiving.