I went to Skagway last weekend.
“Didn’t you just go to Skagway the other week?” you ask.
Yes I did, aren’t you observant.
You see, I had to go to Skagway again, this time with friends that weren’t related to me by blood. I wanted to give you proof that I have more.
I don’t know why I’m constantly trying to prove to you that I indeed have friends. Perhaps I’m just trying to prove it to myself? Insecurities?
Ah well, I’ll add that to the list of things to deal with in therapy.
So, I went all the way to Alaska just to prove that there are people in existence who like me enough to travel with me to another country.
Not Really. It was in honour of the birthday of this particular sexy beast.
That’s Jodi. She’s a wild child. She’s that girl that I talk to when I’m feeling like I have lived the safest, pansiest, Canada-based, sheltered life… and need someone to live vicariously through. On the other hand, girl always makes me feel stable.
This globetrotter started out in the Yukon, went to school in Ottawa (like me 🙂 ), went to school in New Zealand, and is now going to get her edumacation on in Finland, before potentially heading to NZ again, and finally Vancouver. Also at least 52 and infinity places in between.
I go to school in Ottawa. It’s far. So what if I don’t need a passport to get there. Stop making me feel inferior Jodi. Oh wait… that was just me.. making myself feel inferior.. again. Ugh therapy approaches.
I’ll globetrot with you soon.
Starting with Skagway.
Emerald lake was en route.
I would have taken more artful photographs here.
Some that didn’t involve a guard rail.
BUT, apparently I had to be IN the photos, so I left it up to Abby’s vehicle (named Zoe) to support my camera child. Thanks Zoe. Especially for the flattering photo’s where I look like I’m attempting to incapacitate Coralie with my body weight.
I’m so sorry.
Living up to my previous self-applied nick name. My eager beaverness is evident in these photos.
I jump the gun every. single. time.
That’s right, I did it again.
I blame the others, I was not early they were clearly late. Or is it relative? If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it does it make a sound? Similar situation. Kind of. Not really, but I think you know what I mean.
We got progressively more groovy as the action shots continued.
There were a few more scenic pauses.
And a bear.
The bear wasn’t photogenic, stop blaming me for my failure picture taking. It’s bear’s fault.
Maybe it was worried that I would get it’s bad side, so it subtly turned away. It happens to the best of us.
Don’t pretend you didn’t know I was taking a picture Emily… nobody looks that good candid. Both Coralie and bear can attest to that.
See, Canadian girls look good everywhere.
Notice also how Alaska is merely the gateway to the Klondike, and the Yukon is the Klondike.
Then we settled into our brothel. The Alice room, to be specific.
She must have been pricey, Alice, because her room was the bee’s knee’s.
She even had a porch with which to solicit customers.
I slept there.
And a mirror with which to perfect her seducing.
Abby perfected it.
Even a chest with which to practice…
Her horseback riding, which was obviously what brothels were for. I don’t know what you were thinking.
Obviously you need sultry robes after a tiring horseback ride (the one behind this was sultry.. the one in the front is… just terry cloth).
That’s a window if you weren’t aware. We are technically on the outside of the window. That makes it cool and different.
The rest of the night looked a little bit like this…
With banana cake. (a la Steph)
… and thoughtful cards..
and thoughtful carbs..
.. and faces that are happy to be on the interwebs
… and someone else who ISN’T ME who likes to take photos of their feet.
and a bed that someone, who may or may not have been me, permanently tilted. Even though it was not that person, who may or may not have been me, who was forced to wake up with balloon feet. The individual in question also figured out how to fix the bed, as soon as the bed’s occupant (Steph) was awake.
The next day was just as exhilarating.
Complimentary breakfast. That’s always why. Here’s to hoping I’m not the only one who avoids the squishy fat bits of bacon. I’m sorry if this offends you.
Some people are sensitive about their fatty bits.
Coralie spent one final intimate moment with our brothel before we said our goodbyes.
All that remained was a cordial chat with Governor Palin. Best Friends.
And then we ran into this total arse.
I knew it was time to return home.
I will make food again. I promise. You’re looking like kind of a waif.