#there is no shame in not being able to rattle off 50 place names in one sitting

[theriu]

Wait a minute . . .

Whoa that’s so much closer than I thought . . . Okay, then what about . . .

GUYS

GUYS EUROPE REALLY IS BASICALLY THE USA IF EACH STATE WAS ITS OWN COUNTRY

THE TWO AREAS’ LANDMASSES ARE VIRTUALLY IDENTICAL IN SIZE

So why the HECK are Europeans and Americans always giving each other crap about “not knowing every state/country in Europe/America”?!!

Guys we are brothers/sisters in this. We all have way too many place names to remember at home, much less across the ocean.

I hereby declare that the whole dang lot of us should stop the silly competition, let’s all just COMMISERATE AND CHILL OUT

Here, let’s start with a fun game: In the tags, name the state or country from YOUR region you have the hardest time remembering! :D

[thekillerssluts]

Will Butler explains how his Harvard degree developed into his second solo album

“Yeah, it’s terrifying,” Will Butler says, pondering how it feels to be releasing music away from the umbrella of Arcade Fire.

“It’s the classic thing about all writers,” he continues. “The creative process makes them wanna puke the whole time they’re writing something, then they read something back and it makes them feel worse, then a year later they read it and think ‘yeah, it’s okay’. It’s a glorious experience, but it really makes your stomach hurt.”

On the one hand Will Butler is well accustomed to this writing process, being a multi-instrumentalist in the Canadian indie-rock band fronted by brother Win - Arcade Fire. But on his own terms, it’s an entirely new process. Butler’s second solo album Generations arrives five years after his debut Policy, a collection that rattled with a ramshackle charm and what he describes now as a ‘consciously very unproduced’ sound. Arcade Fire wound down from their Everything Now tour in September 2018, leaving Butler with the last two years of playtime. Most musicians, particularly those accustomed to big album cycles, set aside their downtime for family or other musical projects. Somehow Butler’s managed to do both while also completing a masters degree in Public Policy at Harvard.

“I went to school for a variety of reasons but there was an artistic side to it too,” he says. “I have always tried to let music and lyrics emerge from the world that I’m in; you fertilise the soil and see what grows. It was a way to better understand where we are, how we got here and what's going on. You know, ‘where am I from? What's going to happen?’” Both of these questions explored in his degree are used as fuel for Generations.

It’s easy to imagine an album by somebody who’s just pursued a Public Policy MSt to form in reams of political commentary, probably set to an acoustic guitar. However, Butler instead engages character portraits soundtracked by a broad range of thrilling sonics. Opener “Outta Here” is shrouded by a monstrous bass that lurks beneath the depths of the instrumentation before bursting out midway through. “Got enough things on my plate without you talking about my salvation,” he screams.

While the cage-rattling “Bethlehem” is mania underpinned by a thrashing guitar and bubbling synths that help lift the track to boiling point.While there’s no current world leaders namechecked or any on-the-nose political commentary across the LP, the angst of its contents is instantly tangible, backed by the intellect of somebody who’s spent the past few years studying the ins and outs of government processes. A perfect combination, you could say.

This fuel was partly discovered through Butler reconnecting with the music that defined his teenage years: namely Bjork, The Clash and Eurythmics. While these influences certainly slip into frame across Generations, they were paired with something of an unlikely muse: “I got into this habit of listening to every single song on the Spotify Top 50 every six weeks,” Butler explains. “So many of them are horrible, terrifying and just awful but there’s something inspiring about how god damn avant garde the shittiest pop music is now. Just completely divorced from any sense of reality - it’s just layers upon layers upon layers - it’s amazing. It’s like Marcel Duchamp making a pop hit every single song.”

We turn from current music to current events. Navigating Covid-19 with his wife and three kids in their home of Brooklyn, a majority of 2020 has been caught up in family time for Butler. “The summer’s been easier because everybody’s outside, whereas in spring it was like ‘it’s family time because we have to lock our doors as there's a plague outside.’” While being surrounded by the trappings of lockdown since his second solo album Generations was completed in March, the album itself wriggles with the spirit of live instrumentation, which at this point seems like some sort of relic from a bygone era."I think eventually rediscovering this album back in the live setting would be amazing - we’re a really great live band, it’s a shame to not be in front of people."

The source of this energy can be traced back to the way the songs came together; they were forged and finessed at a series of shows in the early stages of the project. “It just raises the stakes. You can tell how good or how dumb a lyric is when you sing it in front of a hundred people,” he reflects. “It’s like ‘are you embarrassed because what you’re saying is true?’ or ‘is it just embarrassing?’ It’s a good refiner for that stuff. I think eventually rediscovering this album back in the live setting would be amazing - we’re a really great live band, it’s a shame to not be in front of people.”

Like his day job in Arcade Fire, Butler’s solo live group is something of a family affair - both his wife and sister-in-law feature in the band, alongside Broadway's West Side Story star, and the student of the legendary Fela Kuti drummer, Tony Allen. Together this eclectic mix of musicians conjures an infectious spirit through the raw combination of thundering synths and pedal-to-the-metal instrumentation; an apt concoction indeed for lyrics that are attempting to unhatch the bamboozling questions that surround our current times.

The timing for Butler’s decision to study Public Policy couldn’t have been more perfect, with his course starting in the Fall of 2016. “I was at Harvard for the election which was a really bizarre time to be in a government school, but it was great to be in a space for unpacking questions like ‘my god, how did we get here?!’” he reflects, with a note of mockery in the bright voice.

“I had a course taught by a professor named Leah Wright Rigueur. The class was essentially on race in America but with an eye towards policy. The class explored what was going to happen in terms of race under the next president. The second to last week was about Hilary Clinton and the last week was about Donald Trump. We read riot reports - Ferguson in 2015, Baltimore in 2016, the Detroit uprisings in the ‘60s and Chicago in 1919 - it's certainly helping me understand the last 5 years, you know. Just to be in that context was very lucky.”

As we’ve seen with statues being toppled, privileges being checked and lyrics of national anthems being interrogated in recent months, history is a complex, labyrinthine subject to navigate requiring both ruthless self-scrutiny and a commitment to the long-haul in order to correct things. The concept of Generations shoots from the same hip employing character portraits to engage in the broader picture.

The writing, at times, is beamed from a place of disconnect (“had enough of bad news / had enough of your generation”), from a place of conscious disengagement (“I’m not talking because I don’t feel like lying / if you stay silent you can walk on in silence”) and from a place of honest self-assessment (“I was born rich / three quarters protestant / connections at Harvard and a wonderful work ethic”).

“I’m rooted in history to a fault,” he says. “My great grandfather was the last son of a Mormon pioneer who’d gone West after being kicked out of America by mob violence. He wanted to be a musician which was crazy - he got 6 months in a conservatory in Chicago before his first child was born. He always felt like he could have been a genius, he could of been writing operas but he was teaching music in like tiny western towns and he had all these kids and he made them be a family band and they were driving around the American west before there were roads in the deserts - literally just driving through the desert! He would go to these small towns and get arrested for trying to skip bills and just live this wild existence.”

Butler’s grandma, meanwhile, was just a child at this point. She went on to become a jazz singer with her sisters and married the guitar player Alvino Rey. “The fact that me and my brother are musicians is no coincidence,” he smiles. “It’s not like I decided to be a musician, it’s down to decisions that were made at the end of the 19th century that have very clearly impacted where I am today. The musical side of it is very beautiful, it is super uncomplicated and a total joy to have a tradition of music in our family...but also in the American context - which is the only context I know - it's also these very thorny inheritances from the 19th century and beyond that influence why my life is like it is.

“For me it’s like, ‘I made my money because my grandpa was a small business owner’ or ‘my grandpa was a boat builder and got a pretty good contract in WW2 and was able to send his kids to college’. Both of which are so unpoetic and unromantic but it is an important thing to talk about, that's a personal political thing to talk about; there's horrifying and beautiful aspects there.”

The lament of “I’m gonna die in a hospital surrounded by strangers who keep saying they’re my kids” on “Not Gonna Die” could well be croaked by somebody on the tail end of a life lived on the American Dream. At times, Butler plays the characters off against each other, like on “Surrender,” which chronicles two flawed characters going back and forth played by Butler’s lead vocals and his female backing singers that undermine his memory; “I remember we were walking” is cut up with the shrug of “I dunno” and “maybe so”. “I found having the backing voices there gave me something to play with,” he explains. “Either something threatening to the main character or something affirming to the main character, just providing another point of view.”

Elsewhere, “I Don’t Know What I Don’t Know” explores the feeling of being unsuitably equipped to unravel the complexities that surrounds us day-to-day. “The basic emotion of that song is very much ‘I don’t know what I can do’ which is an emotion we all have,” he ponders. “There’s also the notion that follows that, like ‘maybe don’t even tell me what to do because it’s going to be too overwhelming to even do anything’.”

Some of these portraits materialised in the aftershows Butler began hosting while on Arcade Fire’s Everything Now tour which found him instigating conversations and talks by local councilman, politicians and activists on local issues. “On some of the good nights of the aftershow town halls, you’d feel that switch away from despair and into action,” he says smiling. “The step between despair and action is possible, that sentiment isn’t spelled out lyrically on the record but it’s definitely there spiritually.”

“I learned anew what a treasure it is to have people in a room. Getting humans in a room can be absurd. And we were having from 5,000 to 15,000 people in a room every night, most of them local. I’m very comfortable with art for art’s sake; I think art is super important and it’s great people can like music that's not political. It was sort of like ‘well we’re here and I know a lot of you are thinking about the world and you’re thinking about what a shit show everything is. You want to know what we can do and I also want to know what we can do!’ So I put on these after shows.”"The dream lineup would be to have a local activist and a local politician talking about a local issue because that’s the easiest way to make concrete change."

Butler would find a suitable location near the Arcade Fire gig through venue owners who were often connected to the local music and comedy scenes to host these events. “The dream lineup would be to have a local activist and a local politician talking about a local issue because that’s the easiest way to make concrete change. Arguably, the most important way is through the city council and state government. The New York state government is in Albany, New York. The shit that happens in Albany is all super important so I wanted to highlight that and equip people with some concrete levers to pull.

“In Tampa we had people who were organizing against felon disenfranchisement, like if you’ve been convicted of a felon you couldn’t vote in Florida, and something absurd like 22% of black men in Florida couldn’t vote and there were people organising to change that - this was in 2018 - and you could just see people being like ‘holy shit, I didn't even know this was happening!’

“These were not topics I’m an expert in - it’s like these are things that are happening. The thought was trying to engage, I’m sad to not be doing something similar this Fall, I mean what a time it would have been to go around America.”

Understandably the looming 2020 election is on Butler’s radar. “It doesn't feel good,” he sighs. “I’ve never had any ability to predict, like 2 weeks from now the world could be completely different from what it is today. There was always a one-in-a-billion chance of the apocalypse and now it's like a one-in-a-million chance which is a thousand times more likely but also unlikely. It’s going to be a real slog in the next couple of years on a policy side, like getting to a place where people don’t die for stupid reasons, I’m not even talking about the coronavirus necessarily just like policy in general. Who knows, it could be great but it seems like it's going to be a slog.”

There’s a moment on the closing track “Fine”, a stream-of-consciousness, Randy Newman-style saloon waltz, where Butler hits the nail on the head. “George [Washington], he turned to camera 3, he looked right at me and said...I know that freedom falters when it’s built with human hands”. It’s one of the many lyrical gems that surface throughout the record but one that chimes with an undeniable truth. It’s the same eloquence that breaks through as he touches on the broad ranging subjects in our conversation, always with a bright cadence despite the gloom that hangs over some of the topics.

The live show is without a doubt Arcade Fire’s bread and butter. While Butler questions how realistic the notion of getting people in packed rooms in the near future is, he reveals the group are making movements on LP6. “Arcade Fire is constantly thinking about things and demoing, it's hard to work across the internet but at some point we’ll get together. It probably won’t be much longer than our usual album cycle,” he says.

You only have to pick out one random Arcade Fire performance on YouTube to see Butler’s innate passion bursting out, whether it’s early performances that found him and Richard Reed Parry adorning motorbike helmets annihilating each other with drumsticks to the 1-2-3 beat of “Neighbourhood #2 (Laika)” or the roaring “woah-ohs” that ascend in the anthem of “Wake Up” every night on tour. It’s an energy that burns bright throughout our conversation and across Generations.

https://www.thelineofbestfit.com/features/interviews/arcade-fires-will-butler-new-solo-record-generations

[theonceoverthinker]

OUAT Rewatch 4X13 - Unforgiven

Will this be the QUEEN-tesentail episode of the series or not?

Shut up! That was funny!

In any event, you can find my thoughts below the cut!

Main Takeaways

Past

I feel like this episode should’ve had more featured about bad things that the Queens of Darkness, namely Ursula and Cruella have done in the past. Snow and David are about as untrusting of them as they ever were to Regina (Snow literally says “they’re almost worse than Regina”), but the audience, even upon seeing this episode for the second time, don’t have a ton of context because so few of their misdeeds are depicted. While one can assume that more was known about Maleficent from her conflicts with Briar Rose and Aurora, Cruella (Whose misdeeds were done mostly in another realm) and Ursula don’t have that benefit. Even within the confines of this episode, it’s Maleficent who kills the guards and while our other queens agree with the decision, they play no direct part in it. It’s just “ooh badness -- how evil!” I feel like even a reference to past deeds would’ve done so much (Ex. “You destroyed the docks.” or “You had a set of beavers tear apart their dam and flood a town.”). This by no means destroys the flashback in my eyes, but it does fail when later episodes don’t provide a ton of villainy (Or any in Ursula’s case) to either woman.

“No.” Never has a singular word pissed me off so much. This singular word said to Maleficent as she begs to work together as mothers is DISGUSTING. Snow places her piety above her child as well as Mal’s and it is ABHORRENT. Jeez, even before the reveal of what happened, Snow was already coming off as so vile from this moment.

Present

It’s very interesting rewatching this episode with the full knowledge of what Snow and David did to Maleficent. It’s frustrating because Snow tries to stop Mal’s first reaction to seeing them, but because of the need for a twist in this episode, she’s not able to give her an actual apology like I’m pretty sure Snow would have under other circumstances.

”They remind of a time in my life I’d rather forget, time when I was a true villain.” I LOVE this line. I think a line like this is one of Regina’s best in regards to a reflection on her own past. She’s not falsely playing a victim, but shows that she wants to forget this time in her life because it was a time period where she did horrible things. This is a self aware Regina, not pitying herself but still trying to move on. It’s sympathetic enough as a line while not ignoring how bad Regina was. It doesn’t blame anyone for remembering these things -- Regina’s angry at being embarrassed in front of Henry.

I liked Emma and Killian’s conflict in this episode. Like with the Regina line that I mentioned earlier, it’s a good reflection on Killian’s shame over his past villainy and shows a large amount of self awareness. Killian is definitely framed as in the wrong for lying -- as he should -- and the conversations throughout this episode effectively show facets of his and Emma’s characters. Killian is someone who despite his quips and praise over his appearance and abilities does experience self loathing and Emma understands this and wants to help, provided he be honest with her. She doesn’t need the whole truth per-se, accepting his desire for the matter to stay private, but wants him to at least be truthful about that desire and not hide behind denial. And once he apologizes and tells her basically that, she’s supportive of him and assures him. I will say that I wish that at least some suggestion from Emma that Killian confront how he wronged Ursula with her was thrown out in the conversation (Ex. “And you can come back from it”), but it does make Killian’s decision to do it on his own a few episodes later much stronger for his character.

I find it interesting how Snow and David’s lie about their change in morality ends up having a positive effect for Emma. I don’t think it undercuts the truth of the moral, as it does accurately fit Emma and Killian’s dynamic at its conclusion in this episode (And that theme resonates especially well with Emma), but it is weird how it originates from a lie. That having been said, within the confines of the lie, to give no consequences at all to people who stole from a store is kind of...well, dumb, but given that it’s Storybrooke and there are bigger matters to worry about, it’s fine.

“Because they’re villains and we’re heroes.” While I HATED the interpretation of Snow’s possession in “Bleeding Through,” I did like how it was clear about how this black-and-white morality between heroes and villains was utter BS. Because of that, I find it really annoying to see this line. While I know that it’s a lie, the fact that it goes straight-up believed and unchallenged by Emma and Killian (Especially Killian, the more I think about it) makes it feel like no one learned that. And I know it’s a theme of the series, but by now, the lessons been learned a few times over so a line like that going unchallenged is really out of place.

Stream of Consciousness

-Wow! Neal sleeps in the kitchen! These guys REALLY need more space!

-Awww! I love how David is sitting on the steps right by Neal so he can simultaneously protect Emma!

-”Hello, mum.” This is Will Scarlet’s best line. Granny is everyone’s mum!

-Day-um, son! Regina’s getting one hell of a brag up (Because for them, it’s not a takedown) from Cruella and Ursula! XD

-”Chocolate frosted donuts.” I feel like if Regina wasn’t about to deal with the two Queens, she’d be lecturing Henry about not eating like crap. XD

-”I’ve been dying for a grilled cheese all day.” I appreciate that Emma has a legit appetite, especially for someone who runs around town all day!

-I love how word travels so fucking quickly in Storybrooke. What must their text chains look like?! XD

-So, you have to wonder where Mal went while she was “dead.” Thoughts? If she was in the Underworld, i bet Hades pitched a fit so big that Liam was roasting marshmallows from his bar when it happened.

-”You’re getting crumbs all over the book.” Not to be a nitpicker, but a donut with that consistency would not have crumbs! XD

-”If only your wits matched your looks.” Looks like James/Cruella had a bit of foreshadowing! XD

-Cruella’s remarks still crack me up!

-Wait, the station has security footage from Gold’s? Like, I like that that exists because it’s GOLD, but it’s just surprising is all! When was this installed?

-You guys really think two villains will just leave town with your secret after being screwed over and not reveal that secret out of pure spite?! I would PAY to see an alternate cut of this scene with Regina there to point that out with a sassy one-liner.

-I have to wonder what would’ve happened had Snow and David admitted their lie to Emma earlier. Thoughts?

-Can you imagine the Queens of Darkness sleeping in those crazy costumes?! XD

-I really like the set of the Tree of Knowledge and wish we saw it again! It’s really cool!

-Ummmm, Snow, David, shouldn’t you be concerned with why Mal’s ashes are in a convenient little pile?

-Damn, Marco’s got jokes! XD

-”I’d say she’s moved on.” I LOVE how the villains, despite working together, are still underhanded in shit like this! XD

-”You’re positively radiant, my dear.” Was I the only one thinking that Snow was wondering if Mal was hitting on her? XD

-Damn, even finding out about her pregnancy sucked for Snow! I feel really bad for her!

-Mal, if you want to torture Snow and David, why wouldn’t you reveal their secret before they have the chance to? That way, their family and the town at large would trust them less, isolating them and making your further revenge easier.

-Snow and David are so freakin’ awkward! XD

-Robert Carlyle’s acting as he sees Belle and Will Scarlet kiss was fantastic! Look at how he looks like he’s about to cry and how he basically crawls into the darkness because of how torn up he is. That is AMAZING!

-Mal rattling her little rattle breaks my fucking heart!

Favorite Dynamic

Regina and Marco. This really comes down to a singular, effective line: “After ruining everyone else’s happy ending, what makes you think you deserve one of your own?” I am so happy this line and the ensuing conversation was put in. One aspect of Regina’s redemption that I take issue with is that Regina’s smaller victims are often denied a chance to voice their oppositions to said redemption. While Snow and David do get chances to voice their frustrations, smaller victims like Leroy, Granny, Ruby, and Marco don’t get that chance beyond the occasional quip. Because of that, a moment like this really means something. And I like that while the camera pans to show Regina’s reaction to this, it doesn’t linger on her, showing that this isn’t a sympathetic moment for Regina. I also found Regina’s apology to be pretty decent. While I wish it had less excuses within it and Marco was a little too easy to forgive, it did feel authentic to Regina’s character as well as genuine.

Writer

Andrew Chambliss and Kalinda Vazquez are large and in charge today! I don’t have a ton to say. Apart from a few issues that I mentioned above, I feel like they did a decent job here. The story just needed a… ONCE OVER (AND OMG I’M THE ONCE OVER THINKER! I THINK ON WHAT THEY SHOULD’VE DONE A ONCE OVER ON! XD )! The stories are appropriately framed, tell themselves well enough, and setup the future conflicts decently.

Rating

8/10.

-----

Sorry for how late this one came out, but thank you for reading!!!

Shoutouts also to @watchingfairytales and @daensarah! See you all next time!

Season 4 Total (113/230)

Writer Scores: Adam and Eddy: (34/60) Jane Espenson: (20/40) David Goodman and Jerome Schwartz: (30/50) Andrew Chambliss: (22/50) Dana Horgan: (6/30) Kalinda Vazquez: (22/40) Scott Nimerfro: (14/30) Tze Chun (8/20)

Operation Rewatch Archives

[plungermusic]

Sad that I’m leavin’ bye-byes ain’t always pleasin’ ...

Maverick Sunday always has a laid-back, more muted, vibe going on, whether that’s due to the realisation that it’s all nearly over, a reflective Sabbath mood… or just Saturday’s hangover is debatable.

With only four hours of music an early start is essential (even if it means the bar isn’t open yet)  and we rolled up in good time to hear the massed voices of The Rabble Chorus rehearsing on the Green before Australian duo The Weeping Willows opened the Barn with the appropriately Old Time Religion of House Of Sin. a hint of Western menace ran through the bustling Black Crow with its dextrous banjo-style picking, while C.C.Rider was covered as sharp-harmonied, rattling-paced skiffle.

We caught Forty Elephant Gang (above) by chance doing an unbilled spot on the Buskers Stage behind The Saloon - although dogged by sound issues (with a soundman crawling among the cables front of stage) the stripped down arrangements gave a mellow folky edge to things, including a new song (we think) Hard Times, which mixed Californian sophistication (soft toms, fluid mandolin) with a Kilburn lyric very effectively, and even featured an extended instrumental coda, while Charles and Eddie’s classic Would I Lie To You was given a fun backporch makeover with audience participation.

Minnesotan singer/songwriter Humbird kept the relaxed vibe going, with a hypnotic, reflective, confessional solo set including a very trad-Appalachian-sounding On The Day We Are Together Again, which she wrote during the isolation of the pandemic.

Plunger weren’t going to pass up the chance to see Mickelson (below), back at the Moonshine for another glittering set of double-Bruce (Hornsby/Springsteen) expansive epics, including a couple of songs which Plunger can’t place (so either very old or brand new) with fantastic reverbed-up ringing banjo; loose, fluid piano; lithe drums and some fine harmony bvs too.

Evangeline Gentle (main pic) returned to the Barn for another intimate set (again aided by some lush harmonies and judicious guitar work from Nick Ferrio), with a spine-tingling lilting tremulous a cappella opening to Ordinary People; a winning combination of strength, vulnerability and defiance in the stately hymn-like Good And Guided; and a mesmerising new song written following Evangeline’s participation in a Wiccan ritual (“Don’t ask me how I came to be participating in a Wiccan ritual…”) - based around the chant ‘We All Come From A Goddess’ and dedicated to a tragically young victim of breast cancer, this was an increasingly impassioned incantation that built to a powerful close.

Now, all that ‘peaceful-easy-feeling-like-Sunday-morning’ stuff… forget Plunger said that, as the final Barn set of the weekend was another invigorating blast from the Hamilton Hurricane Terra Lightfoot (below). A reprise of Called Out Your Name’s soul-rocker juxtaposed a playful sweet-natured voice with paint-peeling riffs (matched with muscular drums and fluid bass); the Bandish off-kilter chug of Empty House featured dreamy pauses, catchy hooks and increasingly passionate vox, and No Hurry’s combination of jangling stadium chords and 50s harmonies included a lovely coruscating solo (and proved to be an astonishingly persistent earworm for days after). Showing her mellower side, a solo rendition of Two Wild Horses featured lovely picking and velvety restrained vox in an introspective bluesy-country waltz, before the urgent four to the floor “Oooh”-laden glam-boogie of Consider The Speed proved to be the finale for our Maverick #15 (Note to self - never pre-book a taxi for the scheduled finish time…)

A shame not to have been able to wish a proper ‘farewell’ to another stonkingly fine Maverick: good-natured, well-run, down-home welcoming, very-few-flies-in-the-ointment-y (the occasional water pressure-related toilet closures and the absence of The Pie Co van being the sole hitches), with such a diverse, something-for-everyone range across the spectrum of Americana (including those all important, previously-unheard, new favourites like Mickelson and Redhill Valleys) make this Plunger’s hands-down favourite festival.

Sad to leave, delighted to have been, and excited to return next year… “Anyway, Bye-bye”

[justjessame]

Babysitting Butcher Chapter 50

Picking up Terror from my parents’ house was a lot like picking up a regular child from their grandparents’ house, at least I guess it was, I didn’t actually have any experience to go on.  Billy and I shared a look before we walked up the path, a silent promise to NOT burst out laughing on sight if Mom was locked and loaded with horror stories about our little angel’s sexual deviancies.  

“We act completely surprised,” I muttered, as Billy smirked beside me.  “If she mentions the humping, you maintain a stance of complete and utter bafflement, do you hear me, Butcher?”  

“Absolutely, Veronica,” he mumbled.  “Terror’s never once gotten randy with anything, stuffed or not.”  

The door opened as soon as we were within touching distance and my dad was looking fit to burst.  Either laughter or screaming I couldn’t tell, but he gestured for us to come inside and I shot Billy a side eye that warned him once again to keep his shit together and we crossed the threshold.  Once inside, my eyes went wide and I nearly cracked a fucking rib.  Mom had turned the family room into Terror’s own private orgy of debauchery, stuffy-wise anyway.  He had a veritable zoo, farm, and fucking science-fiction fantasy gangbang of stuffed animals to choose from along with enough treats, a bed that had his name embroidered on it, his own porcelain water and food bowl, and a new leash and collar set that put what Billy and I had brought him with to shame.  Dear fucking -

“Mother -” I breathed, as she came into sight with a huge smile on her face.  

“Doesn’t he look so happy?”  She was beaming and I wondered if maybe hearing that I was, for all intents and purposes barren, and the fact that Billy wasn’t really interested in becoming a father, had somehow broken her?  “Since he hasn’t been,” she leaned closer to Billy and I and lowered her voice to just a hint above a breath, as though Terror might hear and understand the word, “neutered. I thought I’d make sure he had ample ‘fun toys’.”  Jesus fucking Christ.  “I called a vet and they said that this was perfectly normal and fine, as long as he doesn’t get any chaffing.”  Please for the love of all that is good and holy, don’t let my mother have actually checked to see if Terror has any chaffing on his little doggy boy parts.  “If he does, he’ll start excessively licking himself.  The vet sent over some salve and a cone, I have them in the pantry.  I didn’t want to scare him with them before they’re necessary.”  Fuck me running with a fucking pitchfork.  

“Thank you, Margaret,” Billy sounded so sincere that I wasn’t sure I could look at him on the off chance I’d bust from the complete fucking absurdity of this entire fucking situation.  “You’ve taken amazing care of my boy.  OUR boy,” he corrected.  “We’ll drop him by tomorrow at the same time.”  Then he called for Terror and we were in the car again.  

“Did that just happen?”  I asked, once we were about halfway to our house and my brain reengaged.  “Did my mother actually turn the family room of the house I was raised in into a fucking dog den of masturbation?”  

Billy let go, the laughter he must have held in from the moment he saw the fucking UNICORN she bought for Terror to mount released and with that I started to giggle too.  The insanity of it, my mom, a country club matron, had called a veterinarian to make sure her grandpet was normal for humping the stuffies and then went overboard with it.  Jesus.  

“The salve, the cone,” he was shaking his head as he pulled up our driveway, “that bit nearly did me in, Ronnie.”  You, I thought?  It nearly fucking undid me to the point of mad cackling.  

“I thought she was going to tell me she checked,” I chuckled, watching him get Terror out and walk him around the yard, Terror jumping at the fireflies while I moved toward the house.  “What do we feel like for dinner?”  I called back.

“Something easy,” was my answer, and I was in full agreement as I walked into the house, thinking that we’d be discussing more than just Terror’s day at grandma’s over Netflix and food.

We were on the hanging bed, sipping drinks and laughing at Terror’s snoring - clearly worn out from his exercise at Mom’s, when we finally got around to discussing everything that we worked through during our workday.  

“Stormfront had to have chipped him,” I said, shaking my head even as I snuggled deeper into his arms.  “I swear that - I have to get at least two of the chips turned off, Billy, jammed or something.”  He hummed his agreement.  “I’ll discuss it with Frenchie and one of the techie geeks I have on staff, I won’t tell the geek the specifics.”  

“Speakin’ of Frenchie,” Billy took my glass from me and put it on the table beside the bed.  “We looked over the plans and we think a couple of those mini drones that are all the rage now, that kids use?”  I nodded my understanding and he went on, “We think we can use those to do a little intel gathering.  See who else moves around the neighborhood.  See what these tutors look like, and when they come and go.  If we can get the right drone, might even be able to see what they’re teaching Ryan.”  

“Do you think they’re trying to teach him a curriculum more like what his Daddy had than what a regular little boy gets taught?”  It had crossed my mind, but I didn’t want to give it substance, not yet.  

“Got to think that there’s a reason this shit doesn’t meet the sniff test, Ronnie.”  I sighed.  “I want to run the recon before we go in on Sunday.”  

That meant he’d be out of the office at least during part of the week, we really were back to work.  “Back to the swing of things, are we Mr. Butcher?”  I smiled into the darkness and he chuckled.  

“Getting there, Doc.”  He kissed my temple.  “Hearing you sound like the head of the office, throwing your weight around, got my pants feeling a bit tighter than usual, Ronnie.”  I bit my lip, and he went on.  “You sounded like you were about to rip someone’s head off, love.”  

“You liked that, did you?”  Tilting my head, I was rewarded with his nose sliding down my cheek so his lips could find my neck.  “I think my patience is waning.  You might end up hearing that a LOT more.”  He growled and turned me to face him.  

“That’s not a bad thing, Ronnie.”  And he showed me just how little of a bad thing he found it.

Billy and I dropped Terror off at Grandma’s, as she insisted on being called, the next morning and I was considering having her checked out by a fellow therapist.  All the trauma from my near death experiences must have rattled some shit loose in my mom’s makeup, because she was baby talking the wrinkly dog as we left and I could SWEAR she was promising him a trip to the toy store to add to his menagerie.  For fuck’s sake, I was going to get a call from FAO Schwarz because my mother let Terror try out his new sex toys before buying, wasn’t I?  

Onto the office, where Billy met up with Frenchie and Kimiko, grinning like a little boy on Christmas morning with the drones they’d gotten their hands on with what I had to imagine was Joseph’s paper pushing magic.  They had copies of the plans I’d printed of Ryan’s neighborhood and were discussing the best places for them to start from while I sat down and fired up the next round of my own research.  

“I’m going to check in with MM and Mallory,” I informed my partner, and got an agreeable grunt.  “I want to see where we are on the search for other satellite locations for Vought off the books experiments, and I want to speak to Grace about Ryan’s situation.”  

“I’ll check in once we have a better idea of what’s going on during the day,” Billy offered, closer than I’d expected.  I looked up to find him beside me, close enough to touch.  “I want to see just what they’ve got going on over there, too.”   He breathed deeply, but not getting the calmness he was searching for he reached for me and I gladly stood up and wrapped myself up in his arms.  His face buried in my hair and I knew we both needed this, the strength we got from one another to face what we had to look into during our work day.  “I love you,” his voice was almost reverent and I rubbed my face against his jacket and shirt covered chest, loving how his scent was distinctly him.  

“And I love you, Billy Butcher,” I reminded him, as he pulled away to look down into my eyes.  “We’ll figure this out, just like we figure out every other fucking thing they throw at us.”  

He nodded, kissing me senseless for luck, and then off he went with his part of the team while I sat down in our far to quiet office and got started on my piece of the puzzle.  How the hell keeping Ryan Butcher had gotten so far off track? 

[shazyloren]

The Dragon Club: Chapter 12 - Jolts and Zaps

Summary:  Jon Snow is an online blogger who gets an interview with the sort after Daenerys Targaryen, the Editor of Valyrian, a multi-million dollar fashion magazine. He’d heard so much about the silver-haired and silver-tongued woman and the running of her business; he would have to be smart to get anything more than five minutes. Will he be safe walking into the Dragon’s lair or will he get thrown to the Lions?

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12018519/chapters/27535392

As Daenerys stared at her reflection in the mirror she wondered why she even cared. Her hair was so long now and while it was usually fashioned into a long braid, she wore it down. It flowed all the way down her dress; which was black and floor length with a slit up the right side. Her earrings were large diamonds and her makeup looked perfect; but she still found herself wondering why she bothered. And the inner voice inside her always came back to the same answer; Jon.

She wanted to make the effort, she wanted to impress him. She wanted so badly to prove she's not the bitch she gave off in that first interview. She sighed at how petty she was being and stood up. "Seven hells"

Her guests would be here now; they'd all be gathered in the foyer of her penthouse as they do every dinner and she'd leave them hanging as to make the perfect entrance. She didn't care for the entrance it just helped with her self-esteem. You love it Dany, don't lie to yourself. Her inner thoughts nastily chastised her. She shook them out of her mind and left her beauty room. She strutted down her hallway as if she was on a runway for Chanel and found the stairs. Being careful not to trip she held the handrail. She made it to the foyer to only see Jorah, Missandei and Tyrion.

"Where is everyone?" She said annoyed she didn't get her entrance.

"The lift is not working, Daario offered to carry Tyrion up the stairs, I think he's regretting it" Jorah smirked.

"Oh, okay" She said a little disappointed. Jon was here yet. Tyrion came in then smiling happily while Daario looked like he had been running a half marathon. He was harping about how Tyrion was surprisingly heavy for a dwarf. Tyrion just retorted that it was his years of wisdom that made him heavy. Jorah sensed Dany's worry.

"He'll be here" He said in reassurance.

"Who will?" Varys questioned as he glanced suspiciously between them both. It was then that there was a knock at the front door.

"I invited a special guest" She smiled as she gracefully walked over to it.

"A guest?" Missandei said rather confused. Dany ignored them all. She smoothed her dress down and checked her reflection in the nearby glass decorative bowl to check she looked presentable. Breathing deeply in she twisted the door handle and opened it with a little bit more force than was needed.

There he was.

He was wearing a soft blue shirt tucked into grey skinny trousers with some tan brogues. His thin glasses framed his face and his curly hair was free. His beard was again looking sharp as ever and his lips pink and soft. His eyes, they were what Dany liked the most. Deep, grey and full of mystery. Dany wondered to herself why she even was looking at him so intensely. You like him, he's tenacious and driven and doesn't do listen to you. Everyone listens to you, he challenges you. She answered herself in her head. She didn't know when it occurred to her that she liked him, perhaps in that very first meeting. But he made her feel out of control; she'd never felt that; she'd never felt the power from someone else. She almost wanted to feel more of it.

"Hullo" He gruffed. That was another thing that Dany liked, his accent. The list was getting longer...

"Welcome, Jon" She stood aside to let him in, remembering she wasn't allowed to stare at him all day and analyse him. "I do hope we can put aside the horrible interview we had and actually become civil to each other"

"I'll be the judge of that" He said handing over a bottle of red.

"I'm counting on it" She smiled. He just meekly smiled back. What was it that was rattling his brain? Was he reading her, reading into everything that was going on? Was the interview now? Was he going to ask questions or was he just going to write his findings without the questioning? "Thank you for the wine"

"Mr. Snow" Jorah held out a hand. He motioned for Jon to join the other's. "May I introduce Daenery's guests. This is Tyrion Lannister her financial backer and good friend. Varys here works in communications, he's an old family friend of Dany's. This is Daario, he works the night shift as her security guard. And this is Missandei, Miss. Targaryen's most trusted assistant"

"Nice to meet you all" Dany saw a small smile on Jon's mouth, one that was a little too smug for her liking. She felt her own face fall into a frown. What was that man's problem? What was his issue? What was he thinking in that head of his?  Daenerys shook her head and led her guests into the Guest Lounge where wine was served and they all took their places on the chairs and sofa's. Dany wondered if Jon had ever been to anything so formal as he sat uncomfortably on the lone chair.

"So Mr. Snow, that article of yours was a marvelous piece of writing, if not a little too harsh" Tyrion had started already, dany wondered how long it was before someone mentioned it. And as he did, she saw Jorah give Daario a $50 bill. Tyrion always had a mouth on him.

"I write what I see Mr. Lannister" Jon shrugged as he sipped his wine. Dany didn't look at Tyrion, her eyes were transfixed with Jon. She watched as he placed his lips on the glass edge and become almost stained from the alcohol. "And I've said before on my blog that opinions change and people change, wouldn't be here if I was willing to see if my initial statements stand true"

"And what have you seen so far?" He asked intrigued.

"Editor has a dinner once a week to keep her financial backer paying and to keep her employees happy after the fiasco that was Doreah Qaath" Dany felt her blood boil up. Anything she was thinking of before hand was gone, he like and intrigued in Jon was gone. It was replaced with resentment and rage. She didn't let it boil over though, she refused. Tyrion however nodded as if he was impressed.

"You're good, Jon Snow" He laughed. "Of course, Varys originally worked for her father and after their relationship fell through Daenerys offered him a job in which he was to be respected and that was best suited to his skills; a job in which he wouldn't be spat at like when he worked for her father"

"She did indeed" Varys nodded when Jon raised an eyebrow. "Missandei here was homeless and being used as a sex worker when she wandered into the Cafe where Daenerys was working on her site before she had Tyrion as a financial backer. Since then she's protected her and named her successor of her magazine. She gave Missandei liberation"

"I'm sorry to hear about that" Jon said respectfully to Missandei.

"It was three years ago; it feels like a lifetime. I owe everything to Daenerys; so yes she 'keeps' me happy by being my friend" Dany felt her own face smirk. Is this what you thought, Jon Snow? That you could assume things about me? Well you're so wrong, you know nothing. "She also helped Tyrion get through one of the toughest times in his life. His wife has recently passed and she has been nothing less than a friend"

"Everyone here owes something to Daenerys; we're not just employees or money for her to drain" Tyrion sipped his wine slowly. "I know your father, his company restored a painting for me a few years back. He doesn't come across as a man who would raise a son to be so presumptuous of people he does not even know"

Jon stared at Tyrion in disbelief. "He taught me that there are no lies or secrets so damaging that they are worth being kept in the dark over. So do tell me, Sir Tyrion, if you're so ready for me to understand the nature of your relationships to Dany here then why can't the world know what happened with Doreah?"

"Touche" Tyrion raised his glass. "I'm not saying a word; it's not my place to say"

"So Daenery's reputation as being a heinous bitch in the media is better than the truth?" Jon was holding his own against Tyrion Lannister, a man Dany believed to be the smartest person she knows. Dany felt herself question this for the first time. Was he right? Was the truth better than this mirage that had been created of her? She did not know; but she certainly could see Tyrion's clogs working overtime. "I said I hated the word bitch. Daenerys is a business woman; she has to have an element of assertiveness to show she's in control. So why has Doreah been allowed to spread such hatred after her dismissal?"

Everyone looked between each other. Dany had been so tight lipped on the incident that she didn't want anything to remind her of it; the ordeal was horrific. But as she looked into Jon's intense eyes; it spilled from her. "She lost her child; to cancer"

"Daenerys-" Tyrion protested but she held a hand up.

"She was grieving; I told her she needed to take some time off, her work had been sloppy, her mind wasn't in the right head space  all through her kid's deteriorating condition" Dany felt the emotions flood her, the fear, the guilt. "She cornered me in the street a few days later, it was my fault she said. Her wage wasn't good enough; she hadn't been able to afford the correct medical care for her child as a single mother. She said I cared too much about what pretty earrings I wore or what nice car I was going to buy and that I didn't care about my workers"

Dany felt her eyes become wet with emotion. She held her head down in shame. "It's okay Dany, it was all dealt with"

"Jorah managed to get her away that time; I climbed into the car and drove home quickly. I fell asleep that night thinking it over. I could've saved that child, $20'000 is nothing to me; that all she needed and I didn't do anything" Dany had felt the weight of this since then. "I should've done something"

"You did what was right at the time; hindsight is a wonderful" Varys reassured her.

"But I should've done more" Dany was glum. Her whole body ached with guilt everytime she thought of her; of the child. "The next morning Jorah escorted me to work; I was quick to enter the building and the receptionist said I was the first to arrive. We got to my office and there she was; sat in my chair looking out at the skyline. I wished I could've got through to her. But she took one look at me and came at me with such rage. She'd looked so peaceful, so serene. I couldn't have her arrested for assault or battery; she was grieving, she was in pain. But it was clear she couldn't work at the company anymore; so I paid her off. $100'000. And I paid for the funeral arrangements for the child too"

"Miss. Qaath was an exceptional writer, it was sad to see her go" Missandei's head fell in sympathy for the woman.

"Thank you" Jon spoke then and immediately Dany was pulled out of her own thoughts to look at him. His face was soft and gentle, calm with sympathy and empathy. He took a handkerchief from out of his pocket and crossed the room to Dany. He kneeled next to her and smiled brightly. What was going through his head? Tell me what you're thinking, Jon. Let me understand you better!  "Thank you for being honest, you're only seventy-five percent a hot-head now"

"It's a start at least" She laughed too. She handed back the handkerchief after wiping her watery eyes. As she did, her finger slightly traced the back of his hand. No one noticed, except them, maybe not even him.

But she felt the electricity; the zap and the jolt.

[travelinglifeshighways]

Top of the World Highway

Top of the World Highway

Best 10 miles of road in Alaska

Monday – August 06, 2018

Clear/rain, 75°

 *Note – Sorry for not posting in a while but real life happenings have had me not able to write for a bit.  The forest fire smoke caused the severe sinus infection to come back so made things difficult to write but continuing on with this trek south from Alaska through Canada and beyond.

 “When all’s said and done, all roads lead to the same end.  

So it’s not so much which road you take, as how you take it.”

 On Sunday, leaving Big Lake, the drive through Wasilla and Palmer had the sun brightly shining off Pioneer Peak and the several hanging glaciers on the mountaintops.  Passing by the Alaska State Fairgrounds, things were being prepared for the upcoming State Fair that was to start in a few weeks.  Some things had changed a bit since I left two years ago.  The Fred Meyer grocery store that was one of my building projects had closed.  The grocery chain had remodeled a bigger building across the highway and had moved into it.  It appeared they needed more room and the six year old store was sitting vacant, awaiting the next occupant.

Driving the curvy road along the Matanuska River with its changes in elevation was beautiful.  The road starts along the river leading to the glacier and quickly rises several thousand feet above the river with great views of the large, hanging boulders ready to fall down the steep sides into the river below.  The treeless mountaintop is above the timberline so the sheer drop-offs show the wintertime avalanche paths.  The large debris patterns showed where the snow and ice had sheared off and came crashing down the mountain.

 Just as quickly as you are high above the river, with several more turns you descend back to the river’s edge.  This happens several times as you go toward the Matanuska Glacier.  The drive is pretty in the fall with the trees showing off their bright yellows and the occasional red color.  The glacier finally appears where a church sits above the roadway so it is a great stop for pictures of the glacier. 

 Matanuska Glacier

It has receded a great deal in my twenty years living in Alaska and the width has narrowed to less than half the valley floor.  Here, one can clearly see the effects of global warming.  All of the glaciers we saw on this trip were drastically reduced in size, several losing almost a mile of their length in just 20 years.  It is a shame such beautiful natural settings are withering away right before our eyes.  Unfortunately, the world has done little to reverse this trend other than saying this is a receding cycle.  In my opinion, this is just political BS and everyone could do more to stop the situation with our vehicle emissions that continue to pollute the atmosphere.

 The drive through Eureka would not be complete without a stop at the Eureka Roadhouse for a burger and fries. 

 Original Eureka Roadhouse, circa 1936

Eureka is about 100 miles from any populated area at the top of an area where wintertime snow machines ride for miles across the tundra.  The views are amazing with distant mountains, lakes, glaciers, and abundant wildlife roaming the area.  It is also a prime subsistence hunting ground for people to restock their freezers with moose, caribou, turkey, and ptarmigan to survive the long winters found up north.  As always, the food was great and hit the spot for the several hours’ drive to Tok where we settled in for the night. 

 Wrangle – St. Elias Mountains to the East

 The road had its share of frost heaving, potholes, and “normal” patching attempts to help the road not be so bumpy but with little effect.  At least Alaska and Canada attempt to alert you to a frost heave or “dip” in the road by using little markers.  First time drivers in these areas may notice the small flag or small 6” disc stapled to a stick alongside the road but it may take people several jaw-dropping, head banging on the ceiling of their vehicle, moments to realize they are marking the bad spots in the road and to slow down.  The fun ones are the unmarked multiple frost heaves that you hit it at 60 mph - the vehicle dips quickly into the first piece of sunken road then flies into the air on the other side of the dip only to come down into another, throwing the vehicle back into the air as one tries to slow down and gain control once again.  It is a wild E-ticket ride, things are thrown about inside the vehicle, and the tugs on seat belts and shoulder straps dig into your body or hold you in place during the zero gravity portion of the vehicle’s flight.  These are the roads up north and the DOT attempts to repair them each spring but they usually cannot get to all of them before summer tourist season opens to the numerous visitors to the State.  It is a way of life traveling the 60 mph roads at a whopping 35 to 40 mph.

 The day ended with light rain falling as we made our way into Tok to refuel and find a campsite for the night.  It was a quiet place off the highway so one did not hear the many tractor trailer trucks going by on the Alcan.  We decided that the morning drive would follow a different route rather than taking the Alcan back through Destruction Bay to Whitehorse in the Yukon.

 There is a road (Alaska Route 5) just outside of Tok, Alaska called the Taylor Highway, which turns north towards a little town called Chicken, Alaska.  The road is not maintained from mid-October through mid-March making it one of Alaska more interesting drives. 

 Alaskan Moose Family

 It’s about one hundred miles to Chicken and the average speed is about 35 to 45 mph with gravel and dirt portions of the road along the way.  There were many frost heaves, gutted dirt road with potholes almost the whole way.  It had not been maintained well, if at all, this summer.  There are about 50 people who live there in the summer and 6 in the winter months.  It is a little quirky town with a post office, a couple of small places to eat, a gift shop with everything “Chicken” on it, an old log post office, and tours of the old abandoned mine operations from the 1880’s.

 Chicken Alaska Post Office

 There are multiple giant chicken metal sculptures in front of several businesses as you drive through or stop for a bite to eat.  Active gold mining continues today but at a much slower and reduced pace than during the gold rush days.  There are several big dredges that can be seen on the tours given in town.

 “The Town of Chicken was once the mining hub for the Forty mile district.  In 1886, ten years before the Klondike Gold Rush, gold was discovered on Franklin Creek and the community of Chicken was founded.

 As the story goes, the miners wanted to name the town 'Ptarmigan' after the bird which is common in the area.  Unfortunately, people couldn't agree on how to spell it!  Finally they settled with the easier name of Chicken.  The name stuck and so has the community, despite an up-and-down history of mining in the Forty mile district.” (townofchicken.com) (The 'Ptarmigan' is Alaska’s State Bird)

 I met one of my former co-workers, Clifford, who is a helicopter pilot for the Alaska State Troopers for a cup of coffee and while talking he was asking which way I planned to travel back down the Alaska Highway.  I told him about going through Chicken and knew he hunted moose in the area and was curious about his thoughts on the road since he travels it several times a year when hunting.  He started telling me about the road from the Canadian border station being “the best road in Alaska!”  He could not believe the State would put in such a nice road in a place where there weren’t that many people traveling in that part of the State.  As I thought about the last few hours driving at 20 to 30 mph over some of the worst roads I have seen in this State I figured my friend was joking about the road conditions.  The road had been horrible, mud, potholes, and slow going.  It had taken almost five hours to drive just over 100 miles.  It was miserable by the time we had gotten to the turnoff toward the small native village of Eagle.  I was sure Cliff was full of crap and was probably enjoying the fact I was going on this horrible stretch of highway.  I wouldn’t really want to call it a highway since it was dirt and gravel for so much of the way.

 This section of highway is called, “Top of the World Highway” as you travel from Whitehorse through the towns of Carmacks (Gold Rush TV show) and Dawson City to the border of Alaska.  Approaching the Canadian border with about ten miles remaining the dirt/gravel road suddenly ends and you roll onto this new, black asphalt pavement.  All the rattling, jarring, and sounds stop!  The road is smooth, so very smooth there is not a sound other than the tires on the asphalt.  Nothing; there are no rattles of any kind inside the RV which has not been the case all day or any other day on this trek.

 The road is a two lane blacktop, no center line or edging stripes, just smooth road without a ripple in it.  That is an amazing feat in itself but it is perfect.  But why put the road here?  It’s in the middle of nowhere USA, the last ten miles to the border station.  Why can’t all state highway DOTs around the country build roads like this one.  Arkansas, Utah, Texas, Louisiana could all take lessons from these road builders, it’s perfection.  The only thing I can think of is, for those traveling from Dawson City to the border, they travel a gravel road which is okay but still has its issues with potholes and heaves in it.  They reach the Alaska border, clear customs and find this beautiful road as they enter the State.  They are finally here.  Their Alaskan adventure begins and they are driving on this perfect road.   The illusion begins but the reality of remote Alaska roads begins in 10 miles.  Enjoy it while you can because the next few hours’ drive is going to be your first adventure in this great State.

 The border crossing went smoothly. This part of the top of the world had clouds and a fog bank rolling over the ridge line peaks. The clouds rolled up the mountainside, over the road, and descended once again below.  Visibility was about a half a mile. You could see over the edges; the rolling mountains were devoid of trees as only small bushes were found here.  There were several caribou close to the road but as we stopped to take a photo they scampered further down the hillside.

 You descend in elevation all the way to Dawson City.  Here, you come to a stop and wait of the ferry to take you across the mighty Yukon River into town. 

 Yukon River Ferry in Dawson Creek

 By now it is raining, it only takes a few minutes for the ferry to cross and drop off about 4 or 5 vehicles.  The RV and a pickup truck were loaded on the ferry for the return trip across the river.  It was raining hard in Dawson City as a thunderstorm was building just south of town.  Dawson City is an eclectic and vibrant northern community on the banks of the Yukon River.  It boasts a mixture of First Nations Heritage and Gold Rush History blended with an active Gold Mining and Tourism Industry as well as a thriving Arts scene. 

 Dawson City Church

 “Dawson City, Yukon is the heart of the world-famous Klondike Gold Rush.  On August 17, 1896, three Yukon “Sourdoughs”: George Carmack, Dawson Charlie, and Skookum Jim found gold on Rabbit Creek (now Bonanza Creek) a tributary of the Klondike River.

 Word of this find quickly spread to the about 1000 prospectors, miners, Northwest Mounted Police, missionaries and others who called the Yukon home at the time. Settlements were quickly abandoned as a rush to stake the best ground commenced.

 Two of these residents were Joe Ladue and Arthur Harper who had been trading in the Yukon for years.  They were quick to purchase, stake and establish the town site of Dawson (named for Canadian Geologist George Mercer Dawson) at the confluence of the Yukon and Klondike Rivers, about twenty kilometers from Discovery Claim.

 News reached the outside world in July of 1897 when the steamships Excelsior and Portland reached San Francisco and Seattle, respectively, with the successful miners from the previous season carrying the infamous “Ton of Gold”.  News spread like wildfire of a land where “nuggets could be picked off the creek floor” to a recession suffering world and caused an unprecedented stampede of an estimated 100,000 people to set out to the Klondike.

 Most left knowing little of the journey they would undertake.  They followed treacherous routes that involved uncharted landscapes, snow-choked mountain passes and freezing rivers to stake their claim to fortune in the Klondike. Most would need to travel over 5000 km to get to Dawson City.

 In 1898 Dawson quickly grew as thirty thousand (some say fifty) pick-and-shovel miners, prospectors, storekeepers, saloon keepers, bankers, gambler, prostitutes and adventure seekers took over the town site.

 Dawson City Buildings

 Most arrived to discover the good ground had been staked in the previous two years.  Many simply booked passage home but others stayed and made fortunes through other endeavors.  Money was not an issue in Dawson, as gold was in abundance, and businesses that catered to the gold-strapped miners thrived.

From 1896-1899 Dawson $29 million in gold was pulled from the ground around Dawson City.

 Dawson became known as the “Paris of the North”: The largest city west of Winnipeg and north of Seattle.  Overnight millionaires roamed the streets seeking ways to spend their riches.  The best food, drink and clothing were all available for purchase, at a high cost.  Dance and gambling halls, bars, brothels, restaurants and supply stores all made fortunes “mining the miners”.

 Dawson continued to thrive until gold was found on the beaches of Nome, Alaska in 1899, many of the same people who came seeking fortunes in the Klondike, left Dawson in a new rush.” (www.dawsoncity.ca)

The tailing piles from the old dredges are everywhere as you head south out of town.  The ground in this area was worked extensively leaving literally thousands of small piles of rocks neatly side by side for several miles.  This area also has piles of volcanic rock in several places dating back through the ages.  Today, Dawson City is still a small little community rich with its mining and First Nation’s heritage.  The old buildings, the 1880’s theme and the townspeople reviving the old ways make for an interesting stop along anyone’s journey.

 A huge thunderstorm with lightening, hard rain, and low visibility slowed the drive to Whitehorse.  After several hours and the long, slow day of driving, it was time to stop for the night in a small campground along the Yukon River in Carmacks.  There were other campers there doing so many different things; some were rafting, others were visiting the gold mines in the area while others were headed to Alaska along the Top of the World Highway.  They would be in for a treat in the morning, while we continued south along the Alaskan Highway along this trek across America.