Our new apartment out in the sticks.
Bath revelation
So I am enjoying my last bath of the foreseeable future (our new place only has a shower) while reading Moral Disorder by Margaret Atwood. I stole this book from my parents random collection of books (sorry, mom and dad) before I left their place. The main character, Nell, seems to have gone from a vibrant child to an older woman narrating the stories of other people in a detached way with only the odd vague reference to her own wants. Now she is at her parent’s house and her father has just had a second stroke. At this stage characters in the book are dropping like flies and I suspect Nell’s dad is about to go too.
Now, I have to put the book down. A thought is tugging at my brain. It strikes me that there is a difference between survival and living. Survival is something you do so you can live, but survival and living do not always go hand in hand. I think some people exist and then stop existing without really living. Maybe they are afraid it will affect their survival. I am afraid of surviving without living. I think that’s why I make decisions that other people consider to be irresponsible. I am willing to risk certain things, normal things, to have a more fulfilling life for myself. I want to leave a mark. I want to mean something. I think that’s why I made photojournalism my career choice and that’s why I started writing this blog. Every word I say is true, as I see it. This is me, in bytes and binary code and I am putting it out there. Maybe it will mean something to someone, maybe it won’t, but at least I am trying, at least it’s there in the universe.
Margaret Atwood is great for making me think about things I normally keep firmly lodged in the back of my mind, corporations controlling government, growing meat, defining your role in life (or having it defined for you.)
That will be the last bath revelation for at least six months. I’m not sure shower revelations, if they exist, are as fundamental. More like, “Must remember to pick up milk today.”
The apartment hunt comes to an end
Jobs and housing in a new town
It was a big day today. Rich’s application to be a substitute teacher was accepted, I applied for a job as a flight attendant at Air North and we signed a rental agreement.
We decided to go for it and rent a place out in the country. It’s the top floor of a log home with gorgeous views out of every window and an active community centre nearby. By nearby I mean 7 kilometres so I might have to invest in a snowmobile or get really good at cross-country skiing to get there and back during the limited daylight hours.
In case you are wondering, this is the same place we fell in love with from the photos while we were back in Ontario and the same place the boot salesman at the outdoor store recommended to us. It’s even better in person.
Also, it was the only place we could afford. Rental prices here are insane! Apartment rentals cost more than Edmonton and to buy a condo downtown Whitehorse will run you about the same as a condo downtown Toronto. Plus three quarters of the listing say no pets. No pets, no parties, no smoking is the general tag line at the end of listings. Even our landlord today told us no parties. He’s one of those unexpressive blokes whose serious voice is almost identical to his deadpan joking voice so I’m not entirely sure if he was joking. He and Rich should get along well though, they can be inscrutable with each other.
We are splurging on dinner at the b&b tonight and we move into our new home tomorrow. I guess we will see if we really are country people!
Letter in the sky
"There’s a letter in the sky," said my son Oscar after a failed attempt at snow angels. "Its an X!"
The cold light of day
I’m taking Maggie for walk number three for two reasons. One, I am so paranoid she is going to lay another crap on the floor of the b&b I take her for a walk every time she looks at me funny. Two, after another email saying another overpriced basic house has been already been rented I need to get some air. I am hoping for the peace of mind I had this morning.
I suck in the cold air… and it makes my teeth and nostrils hurt. I round the bend… and I see what I thought was the “wide Yukon river” this morning in the pre-dawn light is actually a barren hillside in the cold light of day. A black dog stands in the middle of the road, staring at me. I stop, and without the crunching of my boots I hear the sound of trucks on the highway and challenging barks of the dog.
"Go away stranger, you don’t belong here," it barks.
Okay, so that might be a bit of an exaggeration. Except the river thing, much to my chagrin it really is a barren hillside. And there was a dog. It was wagging it’s tail though.
Today we have learned that for Richard to get work, we need an address. And to get an address we need to find a place to live, and to find a place to live we need a landlord to reply with something other than the place has already been rented to someone else.
I know there is a happy medium between the idealistic musings of this morning and the disconsolation of this afternoon. Maybe there will be a revelation in the evening light. Fortunately for me I don’t have to wait long, evening starts at about 3pm here.
Some rambling from a winter morning
I am walking Maggie on this windless morning, in the dim light of 9am here in Hidden Valley, Whitehorse, Yukon. The snow is tinged with alternating colours of pre-dawn cyan and the orange of the street lamps. I am greedily sucking in the cold crisp air like a drug and I feel all of my doubts and self-consciousness and worries being cleansed from my body. I can’t remember ever tasting air this clean.
As I round the bend I see a view of the wide Yukon river, evergreen forests and snow-covered mountains in the distance. I blink; it feels like this view is too good to be true, like it might disappear any second. But it remains.
I stop, and without the crunching sound of my boots on snow all I hear is silence. I think I have craved this silence without realizing it. I feel at peace.
I trudge back to the B&B awash with the sounds of conversation, coffee brewing, breakfast cooking, dogs wanting either in, or out, depending what side of the door they are on. I’m glad I had this morning to start this day, even though I know the doubts will start to wiggle their back into my strange head, but for now, I feel clear.
Searching for a home
The road to Whitehorse
First impressions
Since my photos from today and yesterday stubbornly refuse to upload, I will attempt to describe my first impressions of Whitehorse.
At first it was not great. The first time we drove in to town was after 3pm, therefore it was pitch black. Also it was snowing. A lot.
Today was a different story. Whitehorse is a flat area on the bank of the Yukon river, but surrounded by mountains. For me, this feels safe and comfortable, cradled and protected by the foothills. There is, however, the promise of adventure with sharp peaks showing in the background.
Downtown brings to mind more of a small town or village than a city of 30,000 people with the odd quaint log-style or post and beam building. The main street is mostly small independent shops without too many big box stores, they have been relegated to an area closer to the highway. The neighbourhoods are mostly in the hills around the main city and dotted with snow-covered forested area and trails. Each of these neighbourhoods have their own elementary school and some have a small plaza.
It may seem perfect (to us anyway) but one snag is the rental rates. Therefore I am now tasked with a different type of writing as I tweak my resume to convince To Whom It May Concern that I am someone perfectly suited to be a flight attendant, just in case my writing career does not take off.
Exploring Whitehorse and a breakfast surprise
I was rudely awakened this morning by Maggie’s passive aggressive “I want to go out” behaviour. Generally this involves pacing, loud yawning and scratching followed by meaningful stares. Did I mention this was at 5 am? Snapping on a lamp I blearily located my coat, hat, gloves, leash and boots while trying to convince Oscar to go back to sleep. Maggie did her business, I curled back into bed and ten minutes later… scratch, scratch, yawn, pace and stare. So I did the whole routine again and she did her other business. By this time Oscar is well and truly awake and I am well and truly sleepy and Richard continues to snore away merrily.
So you can imagine my surprise and horror when a couple of hours later while we are enjoying coffee and conversation with our hosts and a fellow guest after a wonderful breakfast, Maggie takes it upon her self to stroll into the middle of our circle of chairs, hunker down, and start laying and enormous crap on the floor.
If you know me, you know how mortified I would be at this. If you don’t know me, let me say, I was mortified. Very. I grabbed Maggie’s collar and forcefully propelled her towards the door while barking at Richard to “deal with this.” Maybe it was the upheaval or being around new dogs, maybe she was staking her territory, or maybe it was the frozen horse manure she was merrily chomping down on yesterday. Suffice to say Maggie has spent most of the day outside or locked in the bathroom. The owners of the B&B and our hosts, Emile and Eva, were incredibly relaxed and reassuring about the whole incident. I am still slowing recovering from the horror.
I do have to say, if you are ever in Whitehorse and need a place to stay, I heartily recommend Hidden Valley B&B. Not only are they exceptionally cool about the follies of dogs and children (and husbands who lose their key, and then find it in a secret pocket of their jacket) but the rooms are lovely, you have the use of the kitchen, the towels are big and fluffy, there are robes in the room and the food is amazing. We are in the Cappuccino room which is a spacious suite with an ensuite bathroom, a couch and table, stunning views of forest and mountains, a television and a huge comfy bed. Until my rude awakening this morning I was having the best sleep I’d had in ten days.
I will get around to taking some pictures once I get my head around the narrow window of daylight for such things. I did not realize that having breakfast at 9am would mean it was still pitch black outside. Apparently, 10am is a civilized time for breakfast in the north.
After the “incident” we spent the day touring Whitehorse and the neighbourhoods. We met several friendly people, most are imported, like us. I found some boots (finally!) at Coast Mountain Sports in downtown Whitehorse. While perusing the large selection of winter boots at the store we discovered that the salesperson, Brandon, had came from Ontario in October with his girlfriend and dog He also thinks its mad that they are out of winter boots this time of year in some northern states. I suppose it’s possible he was agreeing with me to sell me the boots but I suspect not. So far I’ve found people here very genuine with few pretences.
After my boot success we toured the neighbourhoods of Porter Creek, Granger, Copper Ridge, Arkell and Riverdale. We were hard pressed to find a neighbourhood we did not like. All were surrounded with trees and views of mountains. Even Arkell which is a community of mobile homes was quaint and pretty. I fancied Riverdale just because I am a huge fan of Lord of the Rings and it sounds like Rivendell, but it’s a little more expensive because its closer to downtown. And it’s silly to chose a neighbourhood based on the resemblance of the name to a fictional place. I guess.
While we were back in Ontario we had almost rented a log house outside Whitehorse without even seeing it in person and by strange coincidence, Brandon, from Coast Mountain Sports had visited the place yesterday. He described it in detail and I am even more excited to see it now. It almost seems like a sign that out of the handful of locals we’ve met, one has been to that cabin.
Tomorrow, we visit the Yukon Education office in Whitehorse and Richard begins his re-emergence into the field of education. If you want to know more about the process of getting back into teaching, Rich has a fantastic blog, www.oncemoreintotheclassroom.ca
Ontario to Yukon, Day Nine
Watson Lake, Yukon to Whitehorse, Yukon
438 kms, 6 hours
We have arrived safe and sound at our destination, Hidden Valley B&B in Whitehorse. It’s been a bit of a gruelling experience these last nine days. Tomorrow we can sleep in, we don’t have to pack, and we’re having breakfast at 9am, which, in Ontario time, is fabulously late.
We were up bright and early this morning and on the road before 8am. I say “bright” and early but in reality it was pitch black. Ten minutes into our journey the Garmin, who we’d left in the car overnight, tried to direct us down some random unpaved road. Fortunately there is one highway all the way from Watson Lake to Whitehorse so we ignored her and she eventually gave us trying to sabotage us and re-routed us the right way. By 9am the sun had still not risen and the dim light made the frost-encrusted covered steel bridges seem unreal.
There was very little traffic, and the few trucks on the road were headed the same way we were. We followed one of the truck’s lead when we hit some very rough road by driving on the other side of the road. Since we were following a massive truck we figured any oncoming traffic would hit him first and it was much better than the bone-jarring 50 km/h drive it would have been otherwise.
We stopped for gas in Ranchero where we encountered two locals in the restaurant. These were the kind of men you would expect to find in a place like the Yukon; bearded, weathered and tough-looking. But very friendly. Well, one was. The older gentleman never said a word but just looked wise and weathered. From the conversation with the younger man (by younger I mean he was maybe in his late sixties or early seventies) we gleaned he was the owner of the place, he often rescues truck drivers who have gone off the road, he loves it here and one year it was -60 C and his pipes froze while he was on a rescue mission and he had them all replaced with plastic.
He kindly gave Ozzie a free juice. Ozzie, in the less than gracious way of three-year-old boys replied by saying “I’m hungry.” This did not phase them in the slightest although Richard’s subsequent request for a “bacon butty” brought on some confused looks.
A “bacon butty” is a British delicacy, a sandwich with just bread, butter and bacon. Kind of like an egg McMuffin without the egg or cheese. Why you ask? I have no idea. Almost every Brit I’ve ever met who discovers I am not a fan of the bacon butty looks at me like I’ve got three heads. Anyway, we ended up with egg, bacon and cheese on a bun. Now that I do like and in the cold mountain air it tasted like the best thing I’ve eaten in long time.
Past Ranchero we saw two moose, standing on a frozen river, curious small snow white birds that look like they are straight out of a fairy tale and more curious tiny birds that look like pebbles on the road but fly off as you approach. Now and then one of these birds waits on the road for so long, you start to think it really is a pebble but it flies off at the last possible second and makes you flinch.
The closer we came to Whitehorse, the better the roads became. I even drove the last few hundred kilometres towards Whitehorse, and then past it as we made our way to the B&B in Hidden Valley. We are here now, having wound down a bit and toasted our arrival at long last.
Tomorrow, we explore!
Ontario to Yukon, Day Eight
Fort Nelson, British Columbia to Watson Lake, Yukon
513 kms, 8 hours
Today was a feast for the eyes. Mountains, lakes, streams and rivers, magically lit by the low sun and all painted with a thick layer of snow.
"It’s like we’re driving in Narnia," Richard said as we both oohed and aahed over the view. Richard tasked me with watching for wild animals as he drove the snow-packed, slippery roads, to which I enthusiastically agreed.
Richard was the one to spot the first moose and bison. We saw two moose disappearing into the woods first, and then we say two bison, one sleeping and one grazing, by the side of the road. The bison completely ignored me as I fired off a few dozen shots in excitement. As we continued down the road we saw a whole herd of bison and again I ate up a few gigabytes of memory on my CF card. Then we saw more later, one of them on the road. Just as Rich was slowing so I could get a close-up while the bison stared at us balefully, he sped up again, worried it would charge us.
The excitement wore off the seventh or eighth time we saw bison, and we saw their tracks and dropping much more often them that. Bison tracks look a lot like the tracks of a small snow plough, they just use their bulk to shove through the snow and shove push more snow around with their massive heads. Even after the excitement wore off it was still cool to see them on the road, and once we even saw two bison in the process of trying to make a baby bison.
This was the day I felt the most certain we were doing the right thing. I have never thought I would be lucky enough to have a place like this in my backyard. Even when I toured the mountains in Spain and Alaska and other parts of the world, the awe and wonder was tinged with sadness from the knowledge I would probably see it again and it was passing all too quickley. Today was awe and wonder with the knowledge that these mountains would be a day or two’s drive away from home.
As for the Alaska Highway, I did grip the “oh, shit” handles more than once but it was well worth it just for the view. Here are the highlights…
Kilometre 581 - A beautiful white-encrusted covered bridge
Kilometre 591 - Two moose disappearing into the woods
Kilometre 599 - Steep descent with an eight per cent grade
Kilometre 623 - Another beautiful covered bridge
Kilometre 646 - Gas station! Hooray!
Kilometre 429 - First bison sighting, I break out the Canon 5DII and a 70-200mm lens
Kilometre 756 - A heard of bison
Kilometre 759 - More bison
Kilometre 763 - Even more bison
Kilometre 771 - Bison on the road
Kilometre 804 - And yet even more bison, and more bison after this (at this point I stopped recording it)
Kilometre 1016 - We drank our very first Yukon Gold beer at The Dragons Den Motel in Watson Lake where we spent the night (surprisingly, this motel was cheaper than the Super 8 at Fort Nelson, by a lot.) Rich and I debate whether we saw bison or buffalo, I put $5 on buffalo and turned out to be wrong. Bison are only in North America and Buffalo are in Asia and Africa. To be fair to me I had seen buffalo in Africa and they look very similar. Still, I’m out five bucks.