Neko Case's Travelogue

How exciting! How exhausting! It takes a long time to get to the Yukon, as it should. Chicago to Vancouver to Whitehorse to Dawson. I'm flying all the way to Whitehorse, then it's a five hour drive to Dawson. I've just left the Vancouver airport, where, of course, I've left my jacket. I am an idiot. It's my favorite, and now it's gone the way of all my favorite coats. To hell. It's really hard to get over a good coat. Anyway, the mountains are beautiful and the sun will not set. As I look down at the jagged purple Rockies poking up through the clouds, I can't help but think of the "mountians vs. the airplane" scenario. You know you do it too!! I look around the plane to choose which fellow passenger I would most like to eat should it come to that. I choose the friendly steward because I like him, and if I like him, it's only logical that he should taste good. I'm very picky about what I eat.

Like most people in the world, I've never been to the Yukon, but I'm very excited about what my exotic destination holds for me! Better still, the radiant Miss Carolyn Mark awaits! Cocktails and sleepless nights, aweigh! The city of Dawson is twelve by eight blocks, and I'm really hoping it's like Twin Peaks. Maybe I will have an affair with a sexy, murderous, Canadian taxidermist. Here's to hoping! But then again, maybe I'll just lose my coat and get Lyme disease.

THE DRIVE TO DAWSON
I am picked up at 11am by my new friend Lawrie. She is very smart and has a memory like an elephant. She has hair like a foxy, dangerous nymph in a pre-raphaelite painting, and drives like Steve McQueen in "bullet." We hit it off immediately. I try and get all of the stupid tourist questions out of the way first.

1) Where are the bears? Do they eat tourists very frequently? She tells me that the first nations peoples say that the best way to avoid bears is not to think about them, because if you do they manifest. She also says they lose a couple german tourists every year, but thats usually due to boating accidents, not bears. Maybe the Germans don't taste enough like salmon.

2) Whats with the crazy daylight? The sun didn't go down until 2:30am in Whitehorse the night before. The sun doesn't go down at all in Dawson this time of year because it's five and a half hours north. This should be interesting.The sun just kind of ping-pongs along the horizon.

3) Why are those hills purple and those other ones green? There was a big forest fire 3 years ago and the minerals in the soil make a fuscia colored plant, appropriately called "Fire Weed" go crazy. The effect is stunning. The charcoal blows off the dead trees leaving them kind of black and silver. You can see the dense, purple carpet stretch on for miles between them. One of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. A cab driver told me that besides being the territorial flower, Fire Weed is very yummy in salads. I'm picturing bears in their kitchen tossing cold german tourist- and- Clover greens salad with fire weed garnish for color.

We had a great time on our way to Dawson. The scenery couldn't be beat. We passed an old coal town called Carmacks, named for George Carmacks, who takes credit for being one of the first men to find gold in the Yukon (after the Indians showed him where it was. Oh, accursed history books!!!). The town quit mining coal in 1979 because of a huge underground fire that burns to this day! Wow! 24 Years. Amazing. The landscape and occasional rusted old machine make me think of that book by Richard Brautigan called "In Watermelon Sugar." It's a very sad and lonely book with beautiful imagery (not the best thing to read during a break-up, so be careful with it!) The old mines are like "the forgotten works" where the misunderstood villain, inboil, and his gang hang out. You really should read this book.You really should see this territory!

Our show took place in a really old church called St. Pauls. Miss Carolyn was in fine form, and we had a great time. Afterward, we were starving, so we rushed to the food hall. At no time during the festival did we manage to make it there while they still had food, so we had to have red wine for dinner. Our dinner stretched on into the wee hours, then at 3:30 am, with the sun still up, I trailed off to bed. I don't know what became of Miss Carolyn after I said goodnight, she and Dom were halfway through a huge bottle of red. I just couldn't keep up. Miss Carolyn is one of those people who can stay up the latest, never seem drunk, get up before anyone else, and have breakfast waiting for you in the morning. She's very thoughtful. She's also an indestructible party-machine built of lycra and steel. She is offered the keys to most cities she visits.

The next day I only had time to get a ye olde photo taken with Miss Carolyn, and yes, we dressed like turn of the century whores. Speaking of which, I bought an interesting book about the gold rush prostitutes called "Good Time Girls" by Lael Morgan. It's fascinating. A lot of brave, tough ladies headed north to seek adventure and make their fortunes. They were very unhappy about the limited and oppressive society they lived in, so they stuck out for the infamously wild gold rush territories to make their own lives, or die trying. The book doesn't sugar coat anything, the lifestyle was often harsh, and many people did die, but when I think about it, it sounds better than living as a 3rd class citizen, scrubbing filth and wearing corsets. It was illegal to wear pants, I would have croaked.

Well, I didn't "do it" with a sexy taxidermist, nor did I get Lyme disease, but I had a great time. Thank you Dawson!!!!