Return from the Demptser; Going Home
It rained on and off all night at the Ethel Lake campground. Who knows what time it was when I got up?, it is always light, even here, hundreds of kilometers south of the Arctic circle, but I suspect it was early as the only other person up is the fisherman in the next campsite. All night long he had kept me awake with his really loud coughing up a lung smokers cough. The fisherman was a Quebecois living in the Yukon since the 1970's. We talked a bit, the fish weren't biting.. I don't like fish, so I never developed the passion for catching the smelly slimy things, but we all must have our activities to break our routines. On the Klondike Highway there are plenty of rest stops maintained by the territory, basic no need to flush outdoor toilets, picnic tables and interpretive signs to tell you what you are looking at. This one had been decorated by graffiti artists. I had seen the same style and the logo 'just one' in Ross River. I don't know