The Canadian whiskey burned, especially more with each swallow down our throats. After enduring enough of that, we decided it must combust pretty good in the fire too. It takes some terrible whiskey to have a couple scumbuckets shooting fireballs from their mouths.
As we progressed northward the days got longer. At the end of the day, the lower angle of the summer sun resulted in longer sunsets, thus more time for sun-downers... as the sun goes down, so does the beverages. I don’t remember seeing a sunrise, because it followed that the morning-risers occurred later each day. Slowly the scumbucket daily routine was shifting about a half hour later each day.
Especially when there is no need to wake up early when the first thing you see is a gallows pole-like bear food hanger in a creepy campsite. I’ve always been curious as to what happens when a bear figures out the food is up there, after attempting to climb up, or bat at the bag unsuccessfully, what if there is a determined bear who will sit underneath the food bag until if falls? Imagine the surprise a camper would experience when they attempt to retrieve their food in the morning…
The morning routine involved the requisite coffee and oatmeal with raisins breakfast, thankfully we aren’t growing tired of it. Followed by a stop at the first (and only) filling station in the nearest village to top off the gas, fill the oil, and check the tires. Harper was hoping to make it to
on his tires, where he had a brand-new set waiting for him. Unbenounced to us, chip seal pavement makes motorcycle tires wear-down at a rate quicker than teenage girl fashions go out of style. Anchorage