A brief glimpse into my Yukon days.

Each of us hold chapters filled with our life story. This is one brief glimpse into a chapter of my own.

It was the last few days of January in the year 1975. I was 21 and a half, (that half was important in those days) when I made the decision to depart from Toronto’s Union Station to board the CNR and travel across Canada to Vancouver B.C. Coming from a home filled with love, it was family support that allowed me to follow what I just knew I had to do: explore and learn about Canada on my own. What I didn’t realize was how much I would learn about my strengths and weaknesses as well.

The 68 yr old me who is now a list maker extraordinaire cannot imagine what I was thinking, and yet I did it. I experienced every province and territory except for Newfoundland which tops my to-do list. I now live in British Columbia, but in this story, I travel back to the Yukon a land known for its wealth of history, a place where one is considered Inside if they live North of 60, and Outside when travelling anywhere South. I was an Outsider moving in.

Those were the years prior to the internet when the only channel available on television was the CBC. It was a time and place when sitting and listening to the radio was not considered a main entertainment source. Yet when surrounded by log cabin walls CBC radio was what we had and Barbra Frum’s voice warmed a room in any weather. The radio was also the main way to send not so private messages “Susie S. your mother wants you to call, no emergency” “Daryl R. books are in the library for you”. For a city gal this was golden to experience. It was a time and place when we’d mail our letters by hand, and where we’d meet, greet and exchange gossip at the Post Office.

Two Seasons would bring a parade of visitors, Mosquito One and Mosquito Two, Late Spring and Summer. With the air warm, the sky deep blue never dark, when midnight brings that feeling you get at dusk, and with it, midnight baseball games. My first summer I was advised never to be surprised with snow in August, and yet I was then and every year after. Most noticeable with that initial downfall was the en masse tourist departure that followed. Still true today, July and August would sadly bring forest fires. I was in a restaurant once when a young person ran in yelling “fire”; every man jumped up from to run and assist without question or hesitation.