If our marriage lasts, we’ll celebrate our 50thwedding anniversary next Friday!
“And we should call it Latitude 65,” Magellan said five years ago when he floated the idea of a blog about our travels, the black-sky rains of November pelting our windows on the forty-ninth parallel in Vancouver.
What places, I’ve always wondered, are on the circle of latitude 65° N of the Earth’s equatorial plane?
And if we were nearby, how would we know the exact spot?
“We’ll be at latitude 65 this morning,” said Magellan as we left Yukon’s Tombstone Territorial Park where we’d camped the night before on our driving trip up to Tuktoyaktak.
Orchid Acres. That’s an oxymoron isn’t it? “Orchid” and “Acres” are two words that just don’t belong together.
Where in the world do you find acres of orchids? You’re lucky to see a single, wild orchid in an acre of tropical rainforest.
Except, except for Orchid Acres, in West Dawson, Yukon, off Sunnydale Road on the Top of the World Highway, overlooking Dawson City.
If you’re a jubilado and you’ve been camping all your life, you may have had a set of flimsy aluminum pots. Like ours, vintage 1970, guaranteed, even at the lowest heat, to burn water, their handles, without a thermal potholder, certain to burn your fingers.
When we bought Rove-Inn three summers ago after a camping hiatus that lasted decades, I tossed those aluminum hazards. And began a weeks-long search for quality cooking pots that wouldn’t burn our food or occupy much space.
Searching “Camping cookware/camping pots” was fruitless. “RV Camping cookware/camping pots” came up short. Sticking “quality” or “best” into the search didn’t help. Don’t ask me what combination of words finally led me to John and Mandi’s blogpost of September 6, 2014. As soon as I saw their photos and read Mandi’s review, I was in love with the Magma 10 Piece Gourmet Nesting Stainless Steel Cookware Set.
We were in Telegraph Creek, BC, the old town. Remote and in the wilderness. Requiring a 110 kilometre drive up a steep, gravel, mountain road with double-digit grades. Pulling up alongside a woman driving a van that had passed us on the road up, Magellan asked, “Is there anything here?” “Nah, this town is abandoned. Just a museum but it looks closed.”
After driving all that way, we decided to snoop around. Walking toward the museum I saw a guy sitting above us on his porch, almost invisible behind a porch screened with a row of antlers except for his cowboy hat, white beard and striped shirt but I didn’t say anything. A few minutes later as we stood at the museum door, he walked up behind us. “Can I help you?” he asked.