“You can drink it fast. You can drink it slow. But your lips have gotta touch the toe.” A dehydrated human toe, that is. In my drink.
It was time to be inducted into the Sourtoe Cocktail Club, a Dawson City tradition since 1973 when Captain Dick Stevenson found a frost-bitten human toe preserved in a jar of alcohol in a nearby cabin. In the Down-town Hotel, he soon began plunking it into the drinks of patrons who were brave enough to meet his challenge. It brought me little comfort to learn that the original toe had been replaced — several times over, due to decay, theft, and yes, being swallowed. But with a resolute gulp of Yukon Jack whisky, I was official, and part-time Captain David entered my name on the roll, which he was confident would reach 100,000 members by summer’s end. I was number 99,109.
“THE ENTIRE LENGTH OF KLUANE LAKE WAS A BREATHTAKING MIRROR OF BLUE AND TURQUOISE CRADLED BY BRILLIANT WHITE PEAKS”
New Rubber and Big Animals
Only days before, I had ridden my Suzuki V-Strom DL650XA, Suzi Blue, into Whitehorse, where she was awaiting a Monday morning oil change and new Mitas E09s tires for the northern gravel that lay ahead.
After a night of wild camping in the hills overlooking the city, I awoke to a Saturday morning that was bright and warm. Rolling down Fish Lake Road,
