Dawson City, civilisation.

Civilisation, but not as we know it.
After a long, often hot, surprisingly hilly ride across the Top of The World, we arrived via the free ferry at Dawson City, population 1800.
  

  
On the surface a tourist attraction - the city has deliberately retained its wooden board walks, dirt streets and original wooden buildings, and admittedly the quite short Front Street has its fair share of ice cream parlours and gift shops.
But go one block back and even on a short visit you can sense a real town which exists at the dead end of a strip of tarmac or at the end of a long dirt road.

It has charm. We liked it.

It was also the place we met another cyclist. He was riding a fat tyre bike and heading south. His name is Nick Carman - he has a far-reaching blog tiled
'WWW.Gypsybytrade@wordpress.com'   that is well worth the look.

I find myself calling him Nick 'PT' Carman. The PT is for perfect teeth. I have teeth envy. They are perfect in every way, from the dentine, the colour, the proportions, from every direction they are just so.
Nick doesn't know it but I slipped a 'tooth donor' card into his wallet. Should anything happen to him I get his teeth. I am pretty sure they wouldn't actually fit me, but at least I could have them mounted and displayed in some way, or even made into a piece of bike-bling......
Nick was good fun, and what happened one fateful evening involving some beers, his bike and the Yukon river will always make me smile. Or shake my head. Or something. So Nick, wherever you are, the below is for you.

See if you can guess what happened....