“Ok! You wait right here!” her eyes furrowed.
“Don’t you move young lady, just don’t move” she relaxed her glare and immediately took off into the approaching darkness.
Ten minutes later, she reappeared and we kicked ourselves for going through that red light. The red light and sign that told us to wait for the pilot car to come take us across the mountain pass.
“Let this be a lesson to you, never cross the red light. There has been an accident up ahead and that fellow crossed the red light.”
Leaving us feeling guilty, the plump woman walked back to her truck and we began to follow.
The accident was fairly serious and involved a Diesel tanker truck upside down, it’s payload of diesel spilling all over the ground and the driver stuck upside down in his crushed cab.
Now I understand peoples need or want to help(I even left the car to see if I could help them contain the spill) but I feel like it’s less altruism and more of the selfish ‘hero’ thing for most people.
A word to American tourists:
If the tanker is spilling diesel at an alarming rate, don’t try and pry the door open.
If the driver says he is “ok”, don’t try and pry him out. You could break his neck.
On a final note to “Norm”, the construction foreman, if the diesel is pooling around the driver and a lightning storm has started, pulling the metal door open with your truck might create a spark and well, isn’t the safest idea.
“Just pray to god, that’s all you can do”
She ends with, “Don’t you worry though, Norm is here, he is the foreman and he knows what to do”
As we quickly back our car up 500meters from the accident and wait, our minds couldn’t help but flood with visions of the impending explosion.
Dawson City is truly the biggest tourist trap a current mining town could ever be. Among the gift shops and ice cream parlors, drunk old men harass the pretty girls and you start wondering who exactly feels most out of place here.
1/4 of the buildings here lean on a 45degree angle and not a single road is paved. Although the music festival blends in a folksy, gospel, jazzy, dancy sound, a walk through the beer gardens would have you thinking otherwise.
At times when I would get lost in the mood and feeling the town gives off, a shirtless, flip-flop wearing “Chad” would pass me and call me a fag, or a homo and proceed to hi-five his friends and walk away. By the time i’d forgotten such incidents and i’d begin to romantically look at the 100 year old churches and old whorehouses, a group of kids would walk by me and in a drunken stupor, begin to fight.
This probably best describes much of the atmosphere of the music festival and town, it should not overshadow how truly amazing a weekend we all had. The music was overwhelming and the music workshops were amazing. The food was great and the town was beyond rustic and beautiful. Top that off with a long but enjoyable ride(with a stop at the Liard Hotsprings) and i’m already thinking about how I can do this again next year.
For now it’s back to work. My flight home has been booked and so now I need to concentrate on making as much money as possible in the little time I have left.
Till next time…
