It is all downhill into Alaska. Just before crossing the border I had met the fox. And even luckier, I met Mason. Who just happened to be up there taking photo’s, not necessarily of me & foxes (although he has some absolutely stunning ones of this fox!) But mostly of crazy skidoo & ski antics.…
That’s how this famous poem from Robert Service, an Englishman who moved out to the Klondike after the gold rush years, starts. Now I wanted gold too, but of a different kind. And far more easy to find here in Dawson City. Especially under Dori’s guidance. Dori had invited me to come and stay at her…
You wouldn’t think that after all these years on the road I still be an unorganised chaotic mess. Unless your my mum or dad. Then it probably wouldn’t surprise you at all. The list of things I’ve forgotten/lost along the way grows again. Added this time are, a coffee filter, my bikini, a pretty japanese…
After sticking to roads for about three weeks I had the urge to get out, find a dirt track and see what else there is on Hokkaido. According to my logic there had to be a track where I saw a river and a railway line on my map. I was right. Almost. In most…
