Everyone has a bear story to tell. There was the story about the man who walked along the path and a fully grown grizzly bear was lying still. As the man drew closer he realised the bear wasn't sleeping, but was dead. They later found out that there was moose calf in the bear's stomach and two large moose print hooves on the bear. The mother had killed it, obviously annoyed the bear had eaten it's calf. Then there was the one about the little dog called Charlie that was a little terrier who frightened a full grown grizzly away. Everyone tells that story, only the name of the dog changes.
We haven't seen a bear. We're still on our bear hunt but the scenery has been spectacular. The roads are either wonderful or extremely bumpy. The views blisteringly beautiful. Soppy thing that I am, I have been in tears. Tom has managed to tear himself away from the ipad. We are going over the top of the world today which even I think, sounds cool. Watched a vaudeville show last night in Beaver Creek. Lots of Americans, two Canadians and us. Everyone asked if we liked the baby names. (I presumed they referred to Kate's babe). Completely different world. I didn't care.
I am blogging from a launderette on the Yukon Alaskan border. Yesterday it was a bakery, now its a launderette. Multi tasking or what.
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