Day 3 - Whitehorse 2011

“Shut up!”, I shouted hoarsely at the top of my lungs and really pissed-off. I tried it again, with all the conviction and intensity I could muster. However the second time around my voice fell flat and broken. That’s what happens when I try yelling with all my might. I was just about to evacuate the tent for a confrontation when nearby a booming, deep, man’s voice cried out, “SHUT UP!” I felt sheepish. ‘Was he yelling at me?’, I thought for an instant. No, of course not. He was addressing the same group of loud, cackling, drunken fools who had just rolled into the Robert Service Campground to reconvene the merriment at a neighboring tent spot at 6 a.m.

Mike at Tent Spot 30 of Robert Service Campground

That deep voice was from a tent next to ours, and he was one of the Germans with a BMW motorcycle sporting a license plate showing a circle of stars over blue, further defined with the letter “D”. The stars stand for European Union, and the “D” stands for Deutschland, aka Germany. They had brought their bikes from Europe.

The silly laughter, giggling, and yelling continued unabated. I’m sure they were waking-up the whole campground, and we weren’t the only ones preparing for war. “SHUT UP YOU IDIOTS!”, bellowed the German once more. And finally the noise tapered, and a few minutes later, subsided altogether - except one incessant sound.

There was a woman murmuring, or perhaps moaning softly out there somewhere. I thought maybe she was coming down from heavy intoxication, or perhaps hurt. Then it occurred to me that she might "be with someone". I wasn't interested in listening to any of that either, but at least it was quiet. Then even that ceased too, and the campground was truly silent.

Okay, I got that out of my system, almost. (It just happened.) Now let’s go to a happy place.

Santé! Mike, Michaela, and Erik

‘You can practice on me tonight’, declared Michaela. ‘Ah, what?’, I thought for a second, going weak in the knees. ‘Oh, Francais – Oui!’, I replied.

Michaela is a beautiful, young, half French Canadian waitress at “Kebabery”, a middle-eastern restaurant here in Whitehorse. She has gorgeous, almond-shaped, brown eyes and soft-brown, lightly-curled hair that partially hangs in her face. Mike guessed she was part Native American, but I saw the French clearly in her, immediately; that ancient, diluted Mediterranean influence. Michaela’s mother is from Ontario and is an "anglophone", referring to her English ancestry and language. Her father is French Canadian from Quebec and a "francophone". So anyway, yes, when I told Michaela, “J’etudie le Francais”, she was eager to let me practice my skills on her.

I love French women (including French Canadian). I'm going to marry one someday.

Mike Rock Skipping at Fish Lake

We did a casual tour around Whitehorse today, first visiting the clear waters of Fish Lake in the uplands to the south. Mike took the opportunity to skip some rocks. We did a few short hikes nearby too. The Whitehorse region seems to be filled with trails. Cute videos here: Rock Skipping 1, Rock Skipping 2

Erik and Mike at Miles Canyon

Later, we visited Miles Canyon, a small orange-walled gorge channeling the entire aqua green, quietly-swirling Yukon River just upstream of Lake Schwatka. There was a small outdoor wedding taking place, and I casually made my way around the outskirts to observe from a distance. I noticed the ceremony was spoken in both French and English. Later, I asked a wedding patron about the mixed languages, and she said the bride and groom were from Switzerland. I didn’t know they spoke Francais there too.

Mike and Erik at The Klondike

No more campgrounds. Tonight we wanted a good night’s sleep (for the marathon tomorrow) and opted to stay in the Honda Element along an empty dead end road in the woods. We were assured of peace and no charge.

Good friends don't have to talk to feel secure. Mike and I had each gone into our own worlds, maybe because we were tired, maybe because we didn't want to irritate the other, or be irritated. We lay side-by-side in the car, each silently doing our own things; me on the computer processing photos for my blog; Mike reading his book. Then I notice out of the corner of my eye that Mike was holding the picture of when he was 2, carefully examining it, reflecting upon it. I watched intently without turning my head, wonder what meaning he might be drawing. Later, as I flipped through the final photo selections for the day, I notice Mike peaking at them in a similar way to how I secretly watched him.

Mike on Miles Canyon Bridge

Mike looks into Miles Canyon

Swiss Couple getting Married at Miles Canyon, Whitehorse

Epic Adventures of Erik and Mike

Day 3 – Whitehorse 2011

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