Dipping another toe into Alaska

Not too many miles down the road from camp is a small town called Tok. It was originally called "Tokyo Camp" but anti Japanese sentiment during WW2 forced the name to be shortened. It has a decent grocery, a couple restaurants and a sporting goods store, along with gas and some lodging/rv options. It evidently also has a great visitors center and a very helpful BLM (bureau of land management) office. Either one will likely suit my needs for information on a local river I plan to run, either through Wi-Fi or expertise. But, its Sunday and both are closed. 

I gas up, grab some river camping supplies and ask some locals for info and the possibility of running shuttle for me. This takes me till nearly lunch, I've heard a few mentions of Fast Eddy's and decide to try it, as well as jump on their Wi-Fi. The internet is painfully slow and keeps dropping my searches. I'm able to get a few texts out and reconnect with the lower 48 a bit, but I don't gain much river data. An old guide book a friend gave me says there's a place renting out canoes and kayaks in the town of Chicken, which is in my way. Perfect. They'll know something. On the way over I see a Moose crossing the road way down in front of me, but hes gone by the time I get nearby.

The road gets rougher, but not unbearably so. Soon after the first one, there is another moose wading shoulder deep in a pond, diving down and coming up chewing. Moose eat pond weeds? I snap some photos of him and move along. 

Chicken isn't much of a town, more a gold themed tourist stop. They are evidently just getting noticeable tourism as the roads get better. No internet here, or boat rentals anymore. The locals have a bit if knowledge of the sections that are typically run, but no idea who might run shuttle. I decide to push on to Dawson city along the "top of the world highway" seeking my river details and to see the city. It was on the plan already, I just thought i'd do it after rafting. 

Just north of chicken, coming straight at me is a Galloping adolescent moose. Young moose are still freaking huge, just for the record. Hes being chased by the oncoming truck in the other lane. This looks to me like a cowboy chasing a calf he intends to rope. I stop dead in the road, luckily no one behind me, and the moose is still running right at me. He figures out his situation pretty quickly swerved and darts with surprising agility up the hill on my side of the road.

Top of the world highway has some rather far views, but they are at least partially obstructed by smoke. There's a couple fires burning further to Alaska's interior. Ill have to look those up before i head that way. The road is rough and slower going than the Alaska highway has been, but its a new, greener, distant landscape kind of beauty that I enjoy.

Crossing back into Yukon (this should be my last crossing into Canada until my return) I descend down to Dawson City. It requires a ferry to get to town, as its on the other side of the Yukon river. The ferry is free, and the line is short. In no time in in the city. Just minutes after the visitors center closes. Man! I am striking out. I walk the quaint little town, made to look like its still living the gold rush. History is what is sold here, along with expensive food, drink and hotels. 

There is one bit of obligatory tourism that I decide I have to partake in, even though as I enter the bar and learn the process, its seems even more of a shtick. The "sourtoe cocktail" served at the sourdough saloon is a shot with a pickled human toe in it. It has all kinds of history and stories weaved around its custom, but its ultimately standing in a line of twenty people to be overcharged for a shot. I mean, its really a dead toe and everything, but the extreme nature is all diluted by the very cruise ship style tourists attracted to it. I pay, I take my toe shot and have a good time with the gang all involved. I do leave smiling, and I guess ive got some weird random bragging rights to toe/corpse related liquor.

I head to bed with a little buzz and a paper certificate proving my membership in the sourtoe something or other..