A brief glimpse into my Yukon days.

As Summer turned oh so quickly to Fall the air felt crisp and fresh. The sky would present the surrounding mountains in a new glorious light. There were many who would be considered eccentric, yet were in fact wonderful ole trappers and prospectors who became renowned for their stories. Some made the initiative to have cards designed of themselves (like the baseball ones of the time) to sell to the tourists. I still have one that was gifted to me. Most of these gents, as most all were, would be found in the local drinking establishments. So summer would end and they still carried a bundle of unsold cards their envisioned profits on hold until the next tourist season.

Winter, known as the time when stepping outside meant my eyelashes would freeze. I quickly learned never to be without a full face scarf/muffler in order to breathe with comfort  as the air was so cold it literally took my breath away. Snow shoes, fur mittens and hats-plural, long johns and layers of sweaters, waterproof snow pants completed my outfit along with my magnificent hand sewn mukluks made by a new found friend. The hardened snow created a scratchy musical sound when I stepped on it. I was taught that if one dared to step outside at night all you would see for miles would be smoke rising straight up from chimneys. A beautiful sight yet pausing was very serious especially during a sudden storm as one could get swallowed up even a few feet from their doorway. Not unheard of to go in the wrong direction.

Those Yukon Winters were and perhaps still are, a time when the longest night of the year lasts days if not weeks. There would be few discussions of discomfort and discontent, of what used to be willingly endured during those especially below zero coldest nights.

No words really describe the excitement I felt each time I experienced the aurora borealis. Electrically charged particles in the solar wind collide with molecules in the earth’s upper atmosphere and the collision gives off light. The green is caused by oxygen and the violet by nitrogen and the sky would crackle and become alive. One memorable time I lay snuggled in a mummy sleeping bag, feeling warm as toast in a snowbank in order to experience the Aurora Borealis in entirety.

Four years filled with incredible moments during those relatively wide eyed innocent years. Whitehorse itself was as progressive as it is today. I wanted to experience it all as I lived in a cabin with a dirt floor, then later lived in another much larger one which I built with my then boyfriend as squatters right I was a Shop Clerk, Youth Worker then a Whitehorse, Dawson City Tour Guide. I bathed in a lake that was covered in ice, except for the hole I dug with an ice auger. I gold panned, danced at Diamond Tooth Gerties and enjoyed the power of dog sledding. My most profound adventure was building a two seater kayak with my then boyfriend, and together we travelled 460 miles on the Yukon River from Carcross to Dawson City. It was those days that I learned Nature is more powerful than man; I survived a major earthquake and while in the former Yukon capital, Dawson City suffering the worst flooding in its history.

The Yukon is a place rich in history, geography, experience and people. A place like no other, and an ever so brief yet extremely meaningful part of my life story.