The Dead

Where to begin?
With a mediocre Americano I suppose.






















Actually, in answer to the question of darkness, here's a photo out of my bedroom at 2am, taken after getting back from a ride around town at 1am. It's really quite weird as it feels like daytime but there are so few people around. Perhaps there's a flesh eating plague keeping folk inside. On the other hand, when you see 9 year old kids wandering the streets at midnight, well, that seems kinda weird too.






















After the coffee I hopped back on the bike to check out the cabins of the Illuminati/literati. In the case of Dawson, that's Jack London and "a cat named Bobby Service". Both places have grass roofs and even if there are currently no goats manicuring them, they're still pretty sweet little abodes.

First is Robert Service:




















































And Jack London, who is cooler than Service in the he-man cabin contest because he has a stilt house (used for keeping bears and hobos away from his furs and meat).






































This was a pretty filled day for me. After the mad trappers of literature I rode up The Dome, stopping first at the cemetery area. The area has divisions for various faiths and affiliations such as Catholic, Jew and cop. Also YOOP.

Many of the grave markers are seemingly ad-hoc, but like much around Dawson, the necessities of Northern living generate resourceful and unexpected results. The first thing that strikes Big city folk (I suppose) is the wood markers that are completely effaced by time and the weather.























Steel piping is standard fare up here too. Many of the graves use it as a fence.





















































If you don't like thinking about dead kids, skip ahead.
There are quite a few tiny graves up here, again in various states of repair and making good use of whatever's available.




























































... 3 days old. sigh.



















That's it for now. There's more dead folk to come. For now though, I'm off to The Pit. In my years of drinking there are a few standout (and falldown) joints. Walt's Place in Rainier Washington, The Wainwright Hotel in Wainwright AB, The (late, great) 'Wick in London ON, perhaps The Communist's Daughter in TO and now The Snakepit