back in the yukon

We stretched our legs in Watson Lake the day we drove through the Yukon and back to our home. As we finished our lunch and moseyed to the car, Mountain Dad looked ill at ease.
"I actually think we bought too flash a car," he muttered, "We definitely don't fit in anymore. People will think we're tourists."

As we loaded Little Ladie into our shiny 2005 CRV (with tan leather interior, sun roof and less than 150 000km's) a truck nearby grumbled as it turned over and then coughed into silence. Again it grunted into life and turned over and over before firing up in a loud roar.

"Yup," Mountain Dad matter of factly noted, "we're back in the Yukon. "where cars only start on the second go."

If you ask him he'll proudly elaborate. He's even talking me into keeping one of the two rust-buckets we've stored out of town in the bush on a friends property. He argues that we'll get better mileage in the ol' faithful (dubbed Babs by another mate who explained that it stands for Buy Another Battery, Shea). I would hazard a guess that Mountain Dad is as concerned about Yukon cred as fuel efficiency.

Here are some shots of our return to the Yukon via BC (visiting with the ever inspiring Maggie and Tob) and Calgary (visiting with the ever grounding Skye). Good folks. A balm to soothe the soul of one Aussie Mama sad at leaving her sunny childhood home and family.

bath-time in the wall tent


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