August 6, 2005
It's clear we're heading home. Already we've lost an hour. Losing the Midnight Sun, too; almost half-past midnight and it's dark outside. What do you say about the nomadic life once you turn your face toward home? What direction does the yearning take? Does it fork, like the mighty Yukon River, the larger part finding its way to the sea. The other dwindling, disappearing.
Now, I think more often of the horrible mess left on the dining room table. I'm grateful that the dishwasher was left empty. That I left my bathroom clean. It will be time to face head-on the changed state of loved ones. Time to learn of what we missed. I want continued amnesia about the double _oscopy waiting for me at home, but thoughts of it intrude. Tonight, though, we face the Teslin river.
From our rear window—the bedroom—we see the parking lot and the red back door to Mukluk Annie's Salmon Bake Restaurant, plank wood stacked in back with Don't Use This Wood signs; it's headed for the fire inside. Since passing here in 2001—off-season, the place closed down—I've wanted to eat here. I read the Milepost Alaska Highway guide ads in 2003 and wished again, but we drove by—off-season. Tonight we pulled in.
Eat the from the salmon bake side of the menu, and camp free, the ads and signs said. Free parking, water, and dumping. But we wanted electricity, so we paid; we must feed our computers. Even with the extra batteries and inverters Andre installed, it is good to have electricity flow like the water. Tomorrow, all you can eat breakfast for $8.95 Canadian. This is a place to which people return.
August 7, 2005
I was grateful for our time at Mukluk Annie's, but I did find out that once is enough for me. My laundry experience there was perfect; plenty of washers and driers, and right next door. Imagine the luxuriant freedom: taking a shower while the clothes were washing, being able to put freshly dried shirts on hangers, then trot them over to the motorhome to put away while the jeans continued to dry. Capping off the experience with fresh salmon cooked over a smoking spruce fire, while we consumed green and potato salads, baked beans, rolls with butter. I did feel cheated that the dessert was an untouchable (because of the chocolate) brownie, rather than the typical trans Canada/Alaska pie. Who should know better than I that the product often doesn't measure up to the hype. All you can eat scrambled eggs on a steam table should be illegal in any country. One blueberry pancake as big as a plate is all I can eat, thankfully with our own Massachusetts maple syrup. Oh, what a strange and hollow feeling, to have my dreams of Mukluk Annie's fulfilled.
For a while, Mukluk Annie's seemed like a place from which we could not leave. The Bounder wouldn't start. We played it cool. After taking off the engine cover, napping, reading, plugging in the battery charger, walking the dogs and letting the flood of gas dissipate, it started up and we rolled back onto the road, with no time for celebration.
It's clear we're heading home. Already we've lost an hour. Losing the Midnight Sun, too; almost half-past midnight and it's dark outside. What do you say about the nomadic life once you turn your face toward home? What direction does the yearning take? Does it fork, like the mighty Yukon River, the larger part finding its way to the sea. The other dwindling, disappearing.
Now, I think more often of the horrible mess left on the dining room table. I'm grateful that the dishwasher was left empty. That I left my bathroom clean. It will be time to face head-on the changed state of loved ones. Time to learn of what we missed. I want continued amnesia about the double _oscopy waiting for me at home, but thoughts of it intrude. Tonight, though, we face the Teslin river.
From our rear window—the bedroom—we see the parking lot and the red back door to Mukluk Annie's Salmon Bake Restaurant, plank wood stacked in back with Don't Use This Wood signs; it's headed for the fire inside. Since passing here in 2001—off-season, the place closed down—I've wanted to eat here. I read the Milepost Alaska Highway guide ads in 2003 and wished again, but we drove by—off-season. Tonight we pulled in.
Eat the from the salmon bake side of the menu, and camp free, the ads and signs said. Free parking, water, and dumping. But we wanted electricity, so we paid; we must feed our computers. Even with the extra batteries and inverters Andre installed, it is good to have electricity flow like the water. Tomorrow, all you can eat breakfast for $8.95 Canadian. This is a place to which people return.
August 7, 2005
I was grateful for our time at Mukluk Annie's, but I did find out that once is enough for me. My laundry experience there was perfect; plenty of washers and driers, and right next door. Imagine the luxuriant freedom: taking a shower while the clothes were washing, being able to put freshly dried shirts on hangers, then trot them over to the motorhome to put away while the jeans continued to dry. Capping off the experience with fresh salmon cooked over a smoking spruce fire, while we consumed green and potato salads, baked beans, rolls with butter. I did feel cheated that the dessert was an untouchable (because of the chocolate) brownie, rather than the typical trans Canada/Alaska pie. Who should know better than I that the product often doesn't measure up to the hype. All you can eat scrambled eggs on a steam table should be illegal in any country. One blueberry pancake as big as a plate is all I can eat, thankfully with our own Massachusetts maple syrup. Oh, what a strange and hollow feeling, to have my dreams of Mukluk Annie's fulfilled.
For a while, Mukluk Annie's seemed like a place from which we could not leave. The Bounder wouldn't start. We played it cool. After taking off the engine cover, napping, reading, plugging in the battery charger, walking the dogs and letting the flood of gas dissipate, it started up and we rolled back onto the road, with no time for celebration.
posted by Susan at 9:56 PM
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