We Live on a Giant Rock in Space

You’ve had a significant epiphany, right? I’ve had a very few, and I remember each one.

The time I realized that the meat in my mouth used to be alive, and it dropped right out of my mouth, with no meat entering again for 15 years. The time I was part of a herd (I was fox hunting), and I felt distinctly that when you’re in a pack like that, a flock, a school, whatever, you give over your senses for your own use and take up the herd’s senses. That time I Iooked an octopus in the eye while diving and saw that there are intellects like ours, and maybe greater.

This time I was standing on Monument Trail, up near Keno City, Yukon, and I realized, really for the first time, that this planet is a big rock, and I’m very small on it, spinning in space. I don’t know why I hadn’t seen that before.

We left the trailer this morning at Five Mile Campground north of Mayo and drove the truck up to Keno City.

Along the way, we spotted a black bear, a grey fox, and many marmots.

At Keno City, we grabbed a map and kept going up, to the famous sign post installed for a group of scientists visiting the silver mine in the 1950s.

We left the truck at the sign post and hiked up what’s called Monument Hill.

The views around are astounding. There are the McQuesten, the Ogilvie, and the Wernecke mountain ranges in all directions.

I thought I took video of the panoramic view, but I can’t find it on my new camera, so I guess not!

Frustratingly, my favorite photos are from when I used my phone because it was raining and I wanted to protect the new camera. I have got to learn that sucker.

We spent all morning driving then hiking then driving back down the mountain, and we found ourselves in Keno City, population 20, with lunch still packed in our backpacks and a desire to see the inside of the Sourdough Tavern.

This New York Times article describes Keno City as the weirdest place in the Yukon. We met one guy, owner of the Sourdough, who turned on the lights to the bar and served us beers while we ate our sandwiches under the watchful eye of his husky, and we met a couple of locals in front of the mine museum, who let their dog jump up and try to nip Tracy in the face. So, we split. We had to get back to our own ornery dog. So yeah, weird.

The hike though. No humans in sight the whole time, just a few shacks from the days when this was a silver mining town. Plus, one big revelation.