Dawson, Tombstone and Banjos

There is nothing better than when you are miles of civilization and seeing signs of a fresh meal that you don't have to prepare. We were floating down the river and saw a sign sure to get our attention, "Bakery and Campground." As we strolled up the grassy knoll, I couldn't help but hear the telltale sounds of the Deliverance banjo ringing through my head. To most, that is a clear sign to immediately abort, but when you've been on the river, your judgement is hazy (did you see Deliverance?) at the prospect of a tasty "meal". As we walked up, it was already too late. We had already been sucked in by the tractor beam suggesting that we HAD to purchase something at this point, be it a $7 loaf of bread, or a $5 "jumbo hot dog". (Not so jumbo, or hot for that matter.) After narrowly escaping this backwoods plot, we travelled successfully to Dawson City, where the real adventure began. I will probably live in Dawson at some point in my life.