THE FRENCH HOUSE

I've slept all day. But I worked all night.   So it's crossed itself out, and I'm writing Yukon and book and then got a 600 mile drive down to France which I'm really looking forward to.   I so miss that place when I'm not there.   I tend to write white, so I'm trying to do all the dark shadowy stuff now and leave the birds and whispering trees to when I arrive. I suspect there will be an electric storm which there usually is but the skies are so clear. And the ciccadas chirping away, the cows, those so pretty cows with their big eyes and long eye lashes in the neighbouring fields and the frogs and ducks who have hopefully found mates by now, because if not they will be making a hell of a noise in the pond in the hamlet.   And going to the market on Thursdays in Villefranche and buying far too much fruit and vegetables.   And gazing at the wonderful castle in Najac and always saying and thinking how wonderful it is.   And knowing when I'm there Tom will be asking for a dog, and why can't we have a dog, and if we lived in France with that space and that countryside and that lifestyle we would have a couple of dogs, because we would need them.   And the quiches in the local patisserie. They are to die for.   I wouldn't touch quiche in this country.  I'm sure they've put magic mushroom in it or something there. I could live off the things.  And that journey with all those tolls, ouch.  And the Parisien version of the North Circular which is just as bad as ours but they clear up crashes much more efficiently.    I want to sit out on the terrace and gaze out over the hamlet, and see how that huge walnut tree has grown outside the bedroom window.   And see if we've got honey bees like we did a few years ago, because this time i wouldn't get rid of the hive.   I miss the French house.

WORDS AND PICTURES

Totem poles and eagles poses

TUCKER TIME

I do not have a clue what time it is.  My friends usually say I'm on Tucker Time and have no sense of time anyway, hence tardiness, but I really don't know what time it is. Yukon time is seven hours behind us, so I feel I've lost seven hours but am still wide awake and not sure if I should be wide awake or if I'm just over tired. I haven't done yoga class today so that usually sorts me out.  I've been practicing back bends (urdhva dandhasanas) every day, even in the handicapped toilets at some of the tourist information centres (is that illegal or unethical or just plain wrong?) and hope to God they don't have cameras as I'm sure they would have had me locked up. But driving an RV for up to 8 hours every day my back hurts. I know some people do that every day 24/7 but ouch.  I covered 1500 miles in 8 days, probably more.    The itinerary filling me with anxiety the diesel filling me with debt (it's expensive).  but when I did stop and take in the scenery, it is absolutely glorious. Even in my tired punch drunk state I remember the lakes and mountains and sunsets.   They are overwhelming.    But I am in sunny England - well it's not sunny and everyone here seems very happy about it because they all say it got real damn hot here while I've been away.    It's lovely hot. Don't complain about it being hot.   Hot is good. It's you that's not good at dealing with hot.

And in Tucker time style I've hit the ground running. Just completed case histories for an article on helicopter parenting and getting it right and I'm supposed to be the relaxed one. Are you JOKING.   I have written books about travelling with teenagers and articles, been on tv, radio, the net and I've returned thinking I've got it wrong. Once again the most spectacular scenery in the world (as per last year with the Canyon) and my intelligent well balanced grounded rounded son (that's what I've said he is in the article) is looking at the ruddy Ipad while I'm marvelling at the fabulous scenery.   Actually he's playing a game which joins up the coloured dots and you've got to do it in a short amount of time think one, two, three or four minutes, and he is very good at it and I'm rubbish because I'm looking at the wonderful scenery and the road and the road signs which HE IS SUPPOSED TO BE LOOKING AT AND GUIDING ME THROUGH SO I DON'T GO 100 MILES THE WRONG WAY INTO THE BACK OF NOWHERE WHEN THERE IS VERY LITTLE DIESEL LEFT IN THE TANK!!!!  Enough said. I love him dearly and we are still on speaking terms after eight days in an RV together.

I've got to write up the Yukon pieces and have a lot of material to focus on. I've already mentioned this in a previous blog briefly but I met some amazing people. The Cathers in Lake Laberge who are a wonderful family, authentic, they teach people how to race husky sledges. Tom was in seventh heaven.    Then Keith Wolf Smarch who allowed Tom to take chips out of a Totem Pole. I don't know about him but I think that's cool. My son has helped make a genuine totem pole.    Bet Blue Peter hasn't even done that (yet).  They should get that blond girl to stand on the end of one and stay there...  And Brent the guide in Haines Junction who showed us a lot of bear poo.  You can never have too much of that.  No bears though.

Then I've got the book to complete, and to find the piece I wrote on LA for PA because PA don't know where it is. And I met a very nice man on the flight back who said he was a securities lawyer (dull) but then explained he liked poetry, knew what Indian astrology sign he was (warrior monk) and that he was a leo virgo cusp Rooster (very good combination) and has his dreams analyse.  He's also built his own boat which was sea worthy and sounded as though it could have gone the distance with the goldrush crew over 100 years ago.   He should in future mention the lawyer bit last. It's so not him.




And to add to the sureality of my day, my ex is sending me videos of himself dancing to camera and playing air drums (is there such a thing? I know air guitar..). I am not sure if he loves me or hates me.  I don't think he does either.   My friend tells me I should read into the subliminal message of the lyrics.   Huh?   Perhaps I should just ask his girlfriend.  

LAND OF THE FREE SPIRIT...sort of.....

I haven't been eaten by bears. Mosquitoes yes, but not bears and no launderettes or bakeries that have internet just in case anyone is following me in my Yukon Quest.  

I have covered a lot of miles. Almost as many as they do in the Yukon Quest (1000) albeit not with huskies in minus 50, just an RV that hopefully will bring us back in one piece.

 My itinerary is bonkers so although I am a free spirit and this is the land of the free spirit I'm up against time all the time and looking to see if I've run out of diesel so I don't feel very free. I feel very stressed.     It doesn't help that some of the signs are in miles and others are in kilometers and some are both.   Passed through Beaver Creek although didn't see any beavers - or bears - and crossed border crossing into Alaska.   Border control always interesting into the States.  I always get the impression they don't want you in their country no matter how many 'have a nice days' I hear thereafter.   First impressions matter.     First stop is 'Chicken', a small place where all the souvenirs revolve around the slogan 'I got laid in...Chicken'.    Yup.

The Top of the World road is stunning. Again no bears, but a tour bus on it's side in the mud.   In the absence of taking a photo of the bears, I took a picture of it.

Dawson City I remember well on my last trip. Little has changed It's got a bit bigger but the tour around Dredge Four and the Gold Bottom mining tour fascinating.   And we found gold - all $7 worth of it.

Then 400 mile drive to Tombstone Park.  Shattered.   Still no bears.    But the best day so far was with the Cathers in Lake Laberge, an incredible family with so many stories - bear and otherwise I could have stayed there all week.   They teach you how to sledge with huskies but they do it properly in the most stunning setting. In the summer you can hike with them and go canoeing in the lake which is beautiful, but in my articles I'll write more about the stories.   Some of them involve people pissing up trees, sliding along ice at 20mph trying to correct huskies going in the wrong direction and playing chicken with black bears.

Then met Keith Wolf Smarch, who taught Tom how to gut fish he'd just caught. He's a master wood carver and taught Tom how to do it.  Tom helped with a totem pole.   Now that's something he can put on his CV. "I helped carve a totem pole'.    There's experiential travel for you!

YUKONIC ADVENTURE - DAY TWO. GOING ON A BEAR HUNT

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.

YUKONIC EXPERIENCE - DAY ONE. THE RIVER OF DISENCHANTMENT AND MOUNTAIN OF DISAPPOINTMENT - NOT!

We are here!! The Yukon is the most awe inspiring place in the world.   The scenery is jaw droppingly spectacular but I am driving an RV so my first day was spent being glued to the screen looking at the road. Screw the scenery I don't want to crash.

I am relaxing into it which may be a good sign.  I did this with my ex's Lotus and I killed it, swerving to miss a rabbit and they have great big ruddy moose out here so I have an excuse this time.

I am typing from a bakery in the middle of the Yukon. I do not know if this is progress but the buns are really good.

Yesterday we hiked with our excellent guide Brent to Kathleen Lake. We saw lots of bear droppings but no bear.   They like snowberries so lots of snowberry 'pies' on the trail.  Brent told us Kluane is half the size of Switzerland, the mountains are the tallest and youngest in Canada and grow as fast as our finger nails do.  So now you know.  

Kathleen Lake itself is incredible. Teaming with fish so the bears here are very happy.     The greatest lakes are always the ones named after women. They are the most beautiful, the most serene and wondrous but become dangerous and treacherous at a moment's breath.   Not fair and not true. But 'she' was stunning, will send pix later.

We then took a small plane with Daniel and flew over the glacier at Kluane National Park (means lots of fish) - the Kluane bit - not the National Park bit.     The glacier looks prehistoric and terrifying.  We flew over the ice burg lakes I kayaked through fifteen years ago when I was pregnant with Tom and presenting the Discovery Channel programme Trailblazers.  The guides we had were incredible.  Strong, suppportive, grounded.  I remember them as distinctly as I do the journey itself.     Daniel carefully explained the names of the mountains and rivers as we flew over them.  Many were named by native indians who gave each one a lyrical prosaic name such as 'whispering bear' or 'laughing eagle."  And what did the goldminers call them?    Disenchantment river and disappointment mountain.   Typical.   I think they should call one 'hiccuping chipmunk'  there are so many round here and they are so cute.  But alas I ran over one. Tom still not talking to me but the bloody thing has loads of time to cross the road and along we come and he chooses then. I learnt my lesson with the Lotus...

YUKON HERE I COME!

I am travelling to the Yukon for nine days, and taking a journey with Tom that I took fifteen years ago for the Discovery Channel. Then I had a film crew in tow and was four months pregnant (they didn't know that at the time, but the make up artist looked into my eyes and asked if I was pregnant - you can tell by the eyes) and I had to sign documents to say that it was my responsibility etc.  But Tom benefitted from the adventure in my tummy and now he's going to benefit from it as a teenager.

I am however going to be driving an RV. I have never driven an RV before and I should imagine it's a bit like a tank but with hot and cold running water and better facilities and more space.   Thankfully the roads in the Yukon are wide and open and the scenery is quite simply the most stunning I have ever seen in all my travels. It leaves you breathless.

I remember meeting park rangers, and talking bear encounters with locals who had defended themselves with the use of pepper spray and little dogs (the smaller the better) and met a goldminer who asked if I would be his wife, which was rather sweet if inappropriate.  First Nations who told me Tom's spiritual animal would be an eagle and he would 'fly' in life, which he's certainly done a lot of over the years in our travels.  (I think they meant in other ways too..)  Kayaked through lakes past icebergs, had a bath in an old freezer box looking out at said iceberg lake, all on camera.    And danced with the dancers in the theatre in Dawson City.   Fished in the lakes, hiked the chilkoot trail and encountered and ate moose. Tried to kill a wild salmon with the back of an axe (for TV they like it dramatic if improbable), and managed to give the poor thing concussion.   I eventually did it third take. I still live with the guilt.   Oh yes, and listened to an actor reciting the poems of Robert Service, the bard of the Yukon (though he was Scottish). The actor stood in the wilderness in an outdoor theatre and recited one poem 'The Quitter', which is about never giving up or giving in, something my father use to say to me all the time.  As he'd recently died, it made me very emotional and despite the director's request to have tears on camera - I told him a categorical no.   Think this trip will be emotional too.  Driving the RV is the least of it.