Leaving Dawson too soon

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-lEId20J3lI

I turn the van out of Dawson city after a quick stint at the visitor center, I realize its Canada Day and catch the tail end of a little parade. Once on board the free ferry that will take me once again to the "top of the world highway" back towards Tok and through Chicken, I hind my mind stuck in Dawson. There's something about that town that I can't quite name. Impossible to describe now, but I felt a vibrating undercurrent while there. Perhaps I should've stayed and explored longer to find it's source. My guess is the town is populated by interesting weirdos. Just like the old timey facades on the front of all the buildings, keeping up the gold rush era feel throughout the "city", the people staffing the bars and reception desks had their client face on. Their tattoos peeked from their period clothing, and their eyes seemed to betray that they had more in common with me than the typical white shoed cruise ship style tourist that filled the town. I bet its a city of young minded, artists that are rugged and adventurous to call Yukon home, even if its just for the summer or the year. I could have, perhaps should have, stayed longer. But, I feel compelled to finally make my thrust into the interior of Alaska.

Headed back, the weather has slowly congealed into gray. The road climbs until I am driving among the clouds as foggy mist drags itself across the road. The mist coalesces into rain clouds, but the drops don't have to fall far to find my van. Crossing back into US is the easiest crossing yet. I'm not sure if I'm just getting lucky, or I somehow don't fit the profile of a threat. Just before Chicken, I turn north toward Eagle and laugh about the bird names on either end if this road. I find the Fortymile bridge and a place to camp for the night. This bridge is what will be my take out for my run of the South fork of the Fortymile river. The plan is to hitchhike back to Chicken in the morning and get on the river there, paddling back to this bridge and my van. As I pulled into the parking area near the bridge I notice a truck with its hood up and a guy, no two, beside it. Jumper cables are already attached to the truck's battery, and simply spill out onto the ground in front. Without a word, I swing my van in and around in front and pop the hood. "Need some help?" "Well damn that's some good timin'," one of them holler. Its like I'm back in Georgia. We swap some country idioms and pleasantries and I get them on their way.

I pack my gear for the river and overnighting. It'll be at least one night, maybe two. Depends on the river's flow, and we just got some rain. I don't have service, so I cant check gauges, but there's only one named rapid on this section that typically runs at class 3 at worst, I should be ok. I dropped a gps waypoint at the take out and the put in, and I've got a decent mental image of the run from a map I found. The real question is gonna be can I get a hitch on this lightly traveled road? I'm hoping my paddle sticking up off my pack will help make my story clear to oncoming vehicles. "I'm not a killer, just a river rat". We shall see what tomorrow holds.