Day 42
   
   6/8/01
   Mile 3974
   Whitehorse, Yukon
   
   Peering into the mind of a cyclist:
   I'm glad I biked out this far, I'd sure hate to drive it.
   
   No, really.  I'm not kidding.
   
   I ate breakfast at Mukluk Annie's, all you can eat for $8 - great
   blueberry pancakes, and they don't scrimp on the blueberries.  A sign
   out front cries, "Free RV wash with meal!" - which, it turns out, is
   self-serve.  Very self serve.  It consists of a hose with a spray
   nozzle, using water pumped out of the lake.  Hope you brought soap.
   
   The road gets better after Johnson Crossing.  There are not as many
   hills, and the surface is much smoother, without all the roughness and
   jarring that had caused so much extra drag for the past week.
   
   That was the good side.  On the other hand, the bridge at Iron
   Creek had re-opened, letting hordes of mosquitoes across.  In addition,
   the weather had warmed up, so the RV's had finished their breeding cycle
   and had hatched, buzzing everywhere, especially near the lakes.
   
   Hold it - strike that.  Reverse it.
   
   I arrived in Whitehorse early, only about 8pm.  Could have done
   another 20-30 miles for the day, but this would be the last big town until
   Fairbanks, and I needed to do some work on the bike and stock up on
   groceries.
   
   I wheeled down Main street and gagged on the pot smoke.  It was friday
   night, and a few people were staggering so badly they could barely
   walk.  Life in a Northern Town?  I tried pretty hard to contain my
   laughter, but I think a snicker or two leaked out.  One toasted fellow
   slurred out "hey, look, he's got a little flag" while managing to almost point
   at the orange flag I have stuck out to the left side, used to make the
   bike look wider to traffic.  His aim was off, and pointing (or even
   focusing) seemed to be taxing his brain - or whatever was left of it.
   Another fellow walked directly into a door that was swung open onto
   the sidewalk area, bonking his nose.  OK, that time I couldn't stop the
   laughter.  I listened to some of the conversations as I passed, and it
   was like Cheech and Chong meet the MacKenzie Brothers, eh?  I could see
   people smoking pot on three different street corners simultaneously.
   Long growing season in the northern summers?
   
   After looking around for a bit, I checked into the Bee's Knees
   Backpacker hostel.  At hostels, you have the opportunity to meet
   people from around the world who have traveled to (or were born in!) 
   the places you want to see, so it's always worth it.  Invariably, there
   will be interesting people to talk to.  Rarely, you will find one slightly
   more interesting than you would prefer, but like the carnival barker says,
   "Ya spins da wheel, ya takes yer chances".
   
   And in this hostel was that rarest of all breeds of cyclists, the solo
   female touring rider.  I have only seen one other in my life.  Just
   out of school, she was doing her first cycling trip, and had come here
   from Haines at that - a short trip, but a difficult one for a beginner to
   choose.  She was young and unsure of herself, and I talked with her
   for a while, trying to answer her questions and help her benefit from the
   many instances of dumb things I'd done while cycling over the years.
   Then it was off to do the two things I was way overdue on, laundry and
   shower, before calling it a night.  Or as close as can be
   approximated, since there isn't one for the next couple of months during
   this long summer.

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