We were staying in Yukon for our first night, the day after blowing out our first tire. Whitehorse didn’t have any open tire shops on a Sunday and camping around there was expensive. So we left and found a spot a good distance out of town near a small stream called Marshall Creek. While we were eating breakfast, we were greeted by an older gentleman and his grandson who was visiting on school vacation. His name was John - big John. He lived right down the road to the right. Turns out he has a son in Eugene and saw our Oregon plates and Ducks tire cover. He said we should swing by when we were on our way out of Alaska in a few weeks time. He’d make us some coffee, he said.
Three weeks later, that’s all we had to go on. All I could remember, anyways. We contemplated going through Dawson City, a route that would have made visiting Big John impossible, but I really wanted to take this man up on his offer. By the time we got back to the creek on that Monday, it was already 4:30. A bit late for coffee. As we got closer, we got really nervous, especially Kathleen, who wasn’t actually there for the invite.
Not remembering the directions exactly was tough. We took the first right after we crossed the stream onto a gravel road . After a few hundred meters, we decided this wasn’t leading us where we wanted to go. We took the next right onto a parallel street that seemed to be the old highway. We took that until it was clear that it had been left for nature to reclaim. There was a lady walking down it, so we asked her if she knew John. “No John, just a Fey”. Turns out she was just staying in a B and B on that road, about where we turned around.
0 for 2 and I was beginning to lose hope. I kept telling myself that there was something about an aquatic animal named street. A few kilometers further and we drove by it! Otter Falls Cutoff. It had a gas station, a store and a restaurant. At this point, Kathleen was so unconvinced by my memory that we talked ourselves out of stopping and drove a bit further. When no road was obvious to the right, I eventually decided I want to turn around and take the gravel road that clearly hadn’t looked right.
0 for 3. This was getting insane. It was pretty clear after traveling down this road a little bit that this was not the residence we were looking for. In fact, the road had markers on the side and a wind sock which made us think were were probably driving on a small aircraft landing strip. Glad we didn’t see or hear any aircraft.
It took all my courage then to decide, I’m going to ask at the gas station. I’ll be talking to a stranger, asking about someone I’d met for 5 minutes, hoping that they might tell me where this person lived. So, I asked the clerk at the store if she knew an older, bigger man named John. Sure enough, she knew him. It was clear that he was well known around there. He lived on a small road out the back of the parking lot to the gas station.
We followed the young lady’s directions and sure enough, as we pull into the only open spot he comes walking out to greet us. He invited us in, where he offered us coffee. We drank coffee with him and his wife. They even offered us grilled tomatoes and carrots for dinner. We talked for a few hours about Oregon, Yukon, our travels, their family and even ended up on politics by the end. We could not have been happier to have found them and spent an evening with them.
Before leaving, I asked him why he moved to the Yukon as a man in his early twenties. He said he’s not sure. A touch of insanity maybe. That seems like a fitting description for this trip and this idea to go to complete stranger’s house on an invite 3 weeks prior.
