The Erik Nielsen Whitehorse International Airport as seen from the Upper Riverdale Trail. Photo by Christa Galloway.
If you are flying to Whitehorse, this is where you'll probably be landing. It's also where I used to work. I can even spot the orange tail of an Air North plane at the hangar.
Richard Michael Galloway is officially certified to teach in Canada.
It's been a long road, but today Rich finally received his interim professional certificate. He's made a lot of sacrifices and put in quite a bit of work, all for this tiny piece of paper which will open many doors. I'm very proud of him, he's earned it!
My husband Richard, and my son Oscar on a hike up Grey Mountain. Photo by Christa Galloway.
A view of Riverdale, Whitehorse, Yukon from Grey Mountain Road. December 2014. Photo by Christa Galloway.
When our family first arrived in Whitehorse in January 2014, we took a look at the neighbourhoods in a town guide. There was Porter Creek, Copper Ridge, Hillcrest, Hidden Valley and Riverdale, amongst others.
“I want to live here,” I announced, pointing at Riverdale.
The main reason for this declaration was that I am a huge geek and the name Riverdale was close enough to Middle Earth’s Rivendell to make me want to live there. If I could live anywhere, real or imagined, Rivendell would be the place.
Another reason was that I saw that Riverdale had it’s own place, community centre and grocery store, making it like it’s own little small town away from the hustle and bustle of the city.
We didn’t move there that January, but here we are a year later, living in Riverdale. Plus I now work for the company that makes those very same guides. Who'd a thunk it.
Riverdale, Whitehorse, Yukon in the winter from Grey Mountain Road. December 2014 Photo by Christa Galloway.
There are no elves gracefully patrolling the woods with bows and arrows, but it’s pretty darn magical here. Sometimes we get a great winter ice fog coming off the river, glinting in the low sun. Our protected little valley gets very little wind, so the trees tend to stay adorned with snow much of the time.
Our street is Pelly Road. It’s a quiet street with very little traffic. Looking out my front window I can imagine Oscar playing in the yard and visiting the neighbour’s trampoline with few worries. Our back yard opens onto the green belt, forest, trails and mountains.
Riverdale does have it’s dark side. Connected to Whitehorse by one bridge, the weekday commuter traffic in Riverdale can be a pain, by which I mean my commute can take 30min instead of 15min. This is why I start work at 8am, I pretty much miss the traffic completely. I know, city life eh.
A Tangent about my street, Pelly Road: The name Pelly also graces a crossing, a formation, lakes, mountains and a river, all of which were named in honour of Sir John Henry Pelly who was governor of Hudson’s Bay Company almost two centuries ago. It’s also a nickname for a pelican in Roald Dahl’s “The Giraffe and the Pelly and Me,” a thoughtful housewarming present for Oscar from family in the UK.
The view from Grey Mountain. Photo by Christa Galloway.
We took a little hike on boxing day. This spot on Grey Mountain Road is not far from where we live is about a 15 min drive and a 30 min walk from where we live in Riverdale. If we were a little more ballsy we could have actually driven to this spot but there was a few inches of fresh snow on the road and we were warned by hikers that the road gets narrow and difficult the higher up you go. We ended up parking and doing the rest of the road on foot. As we were walking, a station wagon careened up the hill. Where the snow got deep we could see where the undercarriage of the car had left tracks in the snow and we came across it later, almost at the top where the road ends at the cell tower. The next time do this hike we will see if Fi can make it all the way up, then we'll take the trail across the top of the mountain.
It’s been a year.
Dec 26, 2013 was the day our family embarked on a nine-day trip, 6000 kms west and north, to an uncertain future in the Yukon.
The move was a long time coming, but the 26th was the day we made the leap.
Since then, we’ve changed careers, provinces and dwellings a few times including a memorable but not-to-be-repeated month living in a tent. We’ve been hopeful, scared, triumphant and desolate.
Now, our future has a clarity we couldn’t have imagined a year ago. It looks like we’re going to be gainfully employed, productive members of society. Thankfully, it seems we landed on our feet.
For me, boxing day will always be the day everything changed. It’s a day to take your life in your own hands, take responsibility for your own existence, realize your own power to change your life… and leap.
So, from me to you, happy boxing day.
The sun in Riverdale, Whitehorse, Yukon at 12:03pm (it's there on the bottom right). Photo by Christa Galloway.
It is noon and the sun is a dim presence barely seen through a gap in the trees. It is the winter solstice, the shortest day in the northern hemisphere.
This time of year the sun appears to grow heavy as it struggles to rise about the tree tops. It determinedly holds it position until early afternoon when it gratefully sinks back to warmer climes.
In Whitehorse, Yukon, the winter solstice means a mere 5 hours and 37 minutes of daylight. Here in Riverdale, an area of Whitehorse surrounded by mountains and thick evergreen forest, much of the light during this time resembles a dim blue ethereal glow more than sunlight as we know it. When the sun is at it's height, at times it illuminates the tree tops with a brief shaft of sunlight, before dipping behind another tree.
Today is the tipping point. Tomorrow the days will start getting longer. From now on I will notice on some unconscious level that the mornings are earlier, the sunset is later and the sun reaches higher in the sky. The air will seem lighter. I will appreciate the sun’s warming glow all the more for it’s previous absence.
Tonight, the longest night, is also a new moon. This will probably be the longest, darkest night of my 37 years of existence. In Whitehorse the sun will set at 3:47pm and will not rise until 10:10am. This year, for me, the longest night is a dying, a death of an old life. Part of me mourns for past dreams as I let them go, part of me celebrates a new life, new dreams.
This solstice, my life has reached a tipping point. We’ve had a lot of struggles, but I can see a light at the end of the tunnel. I’m slowly starting to feel more confident in my new job. The long process of getting Richard certified to teach in Canada is almost over and he has just received his transcript from the University of Alberta. We are back in Yukon, the place we know we want to call home and we are stronger now, having faced the long winter. Now we can enjoy a long summer knowing we can face whatever future winters may throw at us.
And in the Galloway household, we have another reason to celebrate, aside from our bright future... it’s my half birthday. :)
My parents are always there for me when I need them. So when I was facing a four-day drive from Alberta to Yukon hauling a trailer with no company other than my four-year-old son, my mother volunteered to fly out to Red Deer and make the journey with me.
Her slogan for the trip was “It will either be a bonding experience or it would make a great movie.” My mom with a clever slogan is like a dog with a bone and I think I heard that phrase a few hundred times since she thought of it.
Repeating herself is one of mom’s habits that has evolved throughout my life. Actually, her habits don’t evolve so much as my reaction to her habits does.
For example, when my mom has often instructed me to put the ice cream in the microwave or the popcorn in the fridge. When questioned about it she will always respond, “Oh, you know what I mean.” As a teenager, this was exasperating, as a college graduate it was mildly amusing and as an adult, somehow it’s transformed into being downright endearing.
I used to constantly tell my mother, “you already told me that” when she repeated a story. After a while I gave up, and politely listened to the story again and again, eventually even enjoying the embellishments and exaggerations added over time. Now, if my mom didn’t repeat myself, I would be convinced she’d been taken over by aliens and was, in fact, not my mom at all. This could quite possibly ignite an alien conspiracy theory, or, just as likely, end up with me in a nuthouse. So it’s just as well mom’s habits have never changed.
As you may have discerned, my history with my mother has not always been rosy. Fundamentally, I have always loved and been loved by my parents, but we’ve had our rocky times. We will always have to agree to disagree on some issues. So, when I heard my mom’s slogan for the first time, I shared the sentiment. It could be a lovely road trip where we reconnect and bond without the distractions of the other people in our lives, or it could be material for a darker, more extreme version of the movie “The Guilt Trip” with Seth Rogan and Barbra Streisand, and quite possibly not with a happy ending.
I know you’re waiting in suspense to hear the outcome of this experiment in mother-daughter relations. Is there a suspicious mound in my backyard while my mother hasn’t been heard from in weeks? Did we fight the first day and endure the rest of the trip in excruciating stoney silence? Did we arrive in Whitehorse black and blue after duking it out?
I’m afraid it’s a slightly more boring yet also more meaningful outcome. We talked, we bonded and we didn’t even listen to one of my audio books. I was even able to get several words in edgewise after the first eight hours of driving. (I’m only partially kidding.) Day two brought forth confessions from my mother about how hurt and angry my parents were when we left Ontario for Yukon. On day three mom dipped a toe in the Liard Hot Springs, was awed by Muncho lake and was treated to sightings of moose, bison, caribou and even big horn sheep. By day four she realized we were where we were supposed to be and we were best friends.
My mother dipping her toe in the Liard hot Springs, November 2014.
For me, this journey I had been incredibly stressed about turned out to be an amazing experience. On day one, after a nine-hour drive with the help and support of my mother, I realized I am capable of much more than I thought I was. On day two I understood more about my parents than I had before. By day three, I looked around at the beauty of the north and the feeling of peace returned and knew I was where I was supposed to be. On day four, I felt closer to my mom than I had in a long time.
Oscar also got the chance to bond with his Gran. They were fast friends. At the hot springs Oscar played tour guide and pulled Gran from one sight to the other, relishing his captive audience. I stayed back and enjoyed watching them explore the trail hand in hand.
Gran and grandson, hand in hand on the trail at Liard Hot Springs, November 2014.
I feel like this trip has cemented a bond that will last a very very long time. Yesterday, I called my mom and told her about my difficulties being alone and starting a new job and in a few minutes she had convinced me it was all perfectly normal and would be all right.
So many little things had to come together for this trip to ever happen, it’s not hard to believe that fate, or a higher power had a hand in it. I’m very grateful I had the opportunity to experience the world’s most boring movie plot, and yet an incredibly meaningful experience with my mother.
Now I have audiobooks to listen to. :)
I’m leaving my husband.
The day after Richard's birthday on Sunday, I’m taking all of our stuff and heading 2000 kilometres north.
I’m going to miss him like crazy. (Did I mention it's only for a month?)
My husband is my rock. And I’m his rock. We are like two rocks on either side of a teeter totter, balancing each other. When he worried, I’m reassuring. When I’m upset, he’s comforting. Most of the time we’re both pretty level and because of each other we never fall off.
Richard has been there for me in every step of my journey for the last 14 years. He’s helped to prop me up when my confidence has faltered, giving the strength to do the things I’ve done. Together we’ve had an impossibly rich past and we’re looking forward to an equally fulfilling future.
Rich has stepped up in so many ways. He took a job as a part-time bus driver when our business was struggling and at this very moment he is working on getting certified as a teacher in Canada so we can have a stable future. He steps up, but more than that, he’s always positive about it. Since he started teaching again, he has found a deep joy in the profession and has enthusiastically thrown himself into work.
Our relationship is not perfect by any means. We argue like everyone else. Also, he tends to abandon his shoes at the front door instead of putting them away which is infuriating. I’m sure I have also some annoying traits, although I struggle at this moment to think of any. Despite the shoe abandoning, I will always love Richard for many reasons, but two of his fundamental characteristics stand out.
One, he is a genuinely good person. This impression is what drew me to him when we got together after I got over disliking him for criticizing my lab cleaning skills. He really, truly cares about people. And he’s interested in them.
When we were photographing weddings he cared about each and every couple and regularly went above ad beyond. It wasn’t a sales technique, or brown-nosing, it was just his way.
Two, he believes the best of people. I tend to be on the more cynical side of the scale, looking for an ulterior motive. Rich gives people the benefit of the doubt. The downside is that he is constantly falling for telemarketing schemes and door-to-door salesmen. This is why we paid $500 to improve our rankings on Google (didn’t work) and why we changed to a more expensive electricity company. But I wouldn’t change him for all the tea in China.
Over time, his faith in people has rubbed off on me and I’m richer for it. Instead of spending my time waiting for the other shoe to drop, I can just enjoy life. When I find myself bracing for a shower of shoes, I’ve got Rich to gently encourage me to look up at the clear skies.
Not to mention he's a great father, teacher, partner, driver, cook, dog-owner, he's fun, strong, goofy, loving, hard-working... the list goes on.
So I’m leaving my husband and I’ll miss him, but I don’t feel sad. At the risk of being completely sappy (I figure at this point I’m about 90% covered in sap) I know our bond will not be affected by mere kilometres. And my foyer will be so tidy.
Our route north to Whitehorse.
Almost a year after my original move to Yukon, I find myself preparing for almost the same journey. This trip will be shorter but the route from Edmonton to Whitehorse is the same. I'm packing up all our belongings that I feel like I just unpacked. In addition I'm making a list of emergency supplies to bring in case of any mishaps on the remote northern roads including sleeping bags, candles, a first aid kit, camp saw, shovel and warm clothing.
This time I don't have my very capable husband to take care of most of the driving (he's a professional driver) so I've conscripted my mother to come along and help with moral support, child entertaining and trailer maneuvering. If she wasn't coming, I'd be much more worried about the four-day journey.
The light at the end of the tunnel is the new apartment waiting for us, a new job and hopefully several years in one place. In this last year I've changed provinces three times, this trip will make four. Finally, the plans we made when we decided to leave our business 18 months ago will come to fruition. Rich will be a certified teacher and I even got a job in my field. What's more, we've found the place we want to call home in the Yukon.
Now that the culmination of our plans is fast approaching I feel a bit like an evil villain stroking a black cat and cackling about how at last my happylifenator as almost complete. Except that I'm fairly sure I'm not evil. And I'm more of a dog person.
Oscar at Pine Lake, Yukon. Photo by Christa Galloway.
I’ve been thinking about happiness lately. I’m starting to think long term happiness is not something I need to try to achieve through success or things or even experiences. I wonder if it’s something I could just let myself be.
We want to hire you.
I stared at those words. My jaw dropped. The email was regarding a graphic design job that I had applied for at a publishing company in the Yukon.
We want to hire you.
It didn’t seem real. If this was a Hollywood movie I would have given myself an exaggerated pinch to make sure it wasn’t a dream. As it was I just stared at those five words on the screen, eyes narrowed, unable to completely quash the suspicion that they were about disappear at any moment. They remained.
This was going to change my life.
Gradually I became aware that my computer was ringing. It was my mother on Skype. Shortly afterwards my future employer called. From there, plans began to take their shape. The idea of those five words quickly exploded into reality and fragmented into hundreds of details.
The last week has been a flurry of preparations; car shopping, apartment shopping, plane ticket purchases, daycare arrangements, road trip preparation and packing. My mother will fly out and join Oscar and I for the four-day journey on remote, snow-covered roads and Richard will drive up after his teaching practise. The more details that get ironed out, the more real it feels.
When I think back to the odd series of events that brought us to the Yukon almost a year ago I feel like fate showed us the place we belong.
We’re going home.
Castle Mountain, Banff, AB. Photo by Christa Galloway.
We are making good use of our time in Alberta by exploring the area. Within a few hours of Red Deer are Calgary, Edmonton, Drunmheller and, of course, Banff. Here are a few of my photos from our latest road trip.
Oscar climbs a hill at Horsethief canyon. Photo by Christa Galloway.
Do you ever get the feeling you're about the millionth person to take pretty much the same picture? Is that feeling reinforced by the tourist decked out in cargo shorts, hiking boots and a safari hat with an SLR taking a photo on one of you while on the other side of you a couple is doing an iPhone selfie?
That's the problem with really awesome, famous places. Lots of other people want to go there. And they want to take photos too. Yeah, it’s nice to get the photo just like the one you saw in the travel brochure that made you want to visit this place, along with countless other people. But it doesn’t feel special.
It’s not even about the photo. It will be a nice photo. You can crop out the tourists and get an angle where you don’t see the trash cans or the signs. However, believe it or not, for me travelling isn’t about the photos. It’s about the experience. I hope for a unique, interesting and special experience. Preferably with a little adventure, a little risk.
The hoodoos just off Hoodoo Trail near Drumheller. Photo by Christa Galloway.
On wednesday we drove a couple hours east to Drumheller. Oscar was excited to see the Royal Tyrrell Museum but Rich and I were also very keen to see the hoodoos, a unique rock formation found in the badlands. However, when we got there, Richard took one look at the hoodoos surrounded by stairs, trash bins, signage and pre-designated photo spots and drove right past.
Further on we found an unmarked road full of potholes and decided to explore. The road ended in a trail with a faded crooked stop sign so we decided to walk for a bit. The dusty path surrounded by striped hills, sand and low brush was quiet and eerie and awesome. After a while a couple of guys raced up to us on a motorbike and an ATV and kindly suggested we might want to head back before too long because they were about to bring through a herd of cattle. We set off for the car, looking over our shoulders for a cow stampede.
It was fantastic
A trail near the hoodoos. Photo by Christa Galloway.
Oscar and Maggie enjoying the badlands. Photo by Christa Galloway.
Oscar exploring caves in the badlands. Photo by Christa Galloway.
On the way back we did take some cool hoodoo photos. After a few more touristy stops (yes, we still do touristy things) including a "ghost town" with a bar, restaurant and hotel, a scenic drive over 11 bridges and Horseshoe Canyon, we headed for the lesser-known Horsethief canyon. Here we had the entire place to ourselves. This is what we were looking for. We climbed down the side of the canyon and scrambled up some tall hills where we could see for miles.
Horsethief Canyon near Drumheller, Alberta. To the left is the hill we climbed. Photo by Christa Galloway.
Richard and Oscar on a hill in Horsethief Canyon, Alberta. Photo by Christa Galloway.
Also fantastic.
The photos of our Drumheller adventure will immortalize this autumn Wednesday for us. We will remember that time when we thought we were going to get trampled by cows in the badlands, or when we climbed up a steep crumbly hill to get this canyon photo.
How do we find the less travelled road? Often it’s on the map. We look for alternate roads, dead end roads and those thin grey roads on Google maps. Horsethief Canyon was in the 2014 Vacation Guide to Drumheller under the heading “Finding Solitude in Horsethief Canyon.” It’s actually just as good as, if not better than the more popular Horseshoe canyon, just on a less travelled road. Sometimes we find roads that are not on the map. We either hear about them from someone, or we find them with the old-fashioned method of “using our eyes.” We are not (completely) reckless. Signs that warn of danger or against trespassing are always respected by us. Even so, the is a huge interesting world out there waiting to be explored.
Oscar and I at the end of our adventure at Horsethief Canyon near Drumheller, Alberta. Photo by Richard Galloway.
A Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton in the Lords of the Land exhibit at the Royal Tyrrell Museum in Drumheller. Photo by Christa Galloway.
I was torn between looking at the exhibits and watching Oscar's face as he explored this museum. He would have stayed all day if he could have. He is now even more dinosaur crazed than he was before, if that's possible.
The exhibits made it easy to envision a time when dinosaurs existed, and also glad I don't live in that time.
There was plenty of information, interactive stations, bones you could touch, video stations and even a window through which you can watch people working. It was well worth the $13 tickets (Oscar was free).
For more information visit www.tyrrellmuseum.com
We will have to come back again for sure.
A photo of the hoodoos from our adventures today. Photo by Christa Galloway.
Everyone had a good day today. Maggie ran around the badlands, Oscar saw lots of dinosaur bones and RIchard and I got to photograph a unique area of Canada. More about this later.... must rest.... we're headed to Banff tomorrow.
Oscar proudly displays his butterfly painting. Photo by Christa Galloway.
It has been two weeks since we got settled into our new apartment in Red Deer and Richard left for university in Edmonton. For 336 hours I have basically been a single mom with a four-year old and no car in a new city. My universe is a 2.5 kilometre radius from this apartment. My life has changed.
I know all of the words to “Let it go” and “Do you want to build a snowman?” from Frozen.
I can build just about anything with Lego.
In the morning I now pour my coffee into an insulated travel mug instead of a regular mug so it doesn’t get cold before I have a chance to drink it, thanks to a tip from another mom at the playground.
Nary a minute goes by without a request of some kind, usually along the lines of watch me, entertain me, get me something or feed me, sometimes followed by me repeating the request with a suggestive silence to which Oscar repeats the question and amends it with a pleeeeeaaaase.
In my darker moments I reminisce about how easy I had it when I was working crazy hours as a flight attendant yet still had more time to myself than I do now.
I’ve felt the swell of pride as my son learns to do things for the first time like ride his bike down a hill or learn to write the alphabet.
Privacy is... well... I can't actually remember what privacy is.
I wake up bright and early every morning to my son, bright and cheery, yelling, “Good morning!!!” (pronounced "mornling") usually followed by a running, jumping hug.
Every morning on our walk I give the construction workers a giggle when my son goes one direction and my dog pulls the leash in the other as I stand there, hair askew, yelling at both in my pyjamas, plastic bag in hand, steaming pile of poo at my feet.
I am the recipient of frequent random hugs.
I have heard the question “Why?” far more than any human should ever have to.
I worry when it’s quiet.
I don’t worry about “Big Brother” anymore because I have a three foot tall person following me around and questioning everything I do.
I get as nervous about playdates as I used to get about actual dates. When a mom at the park gave me her phone number to call for a playdate I spent the few days wondering if it was too early to call and I'd seem desperate, the next few days after that too scared to call and the next few days after that worried it was too late to call.
I have fruitlessly tried to reinstate nap time.
The moment I pick up the phone, my son has something urgent he desperately needs to tell me right that moment, loudly and repetitiously.
I'm ridiculously pleased when my son paints something that vaguely resembles a butterfly and praise it like it’s the mona lisa.
It’s taken me three days to write this post.
So there you have it, it’s been good, it’s been bad, it’s been ugly and it’s been beautiful. I feel blessed that I’ve had this time. Next year he will be in school, hugs will become less frequent, he’ll go on-line instead of asking me “why?” and his “firsts” will be out in the world, un-witnessed by me. I’ll be just as proud, but a big part of me will miss this time together, warts and all.
Canol Road, Yukon.
Nine months ago our family went on a journey by car from Ontario to the Yukon. Recently we embarked on another road trip, this time throughout the Yukon and south to Alberta. On August 16 we packed our 5'X8' trailer with all of our belongings (well, not all of them, what didn't fit we either sold or gave away) and camping gear and we set off.
A pond off Canol Road near Ross River, Yukon.
Day 1, Aug 16 : Canol Road : Whitehorse to Lapie Canyon - This was a long day. The Canol Road is so riddled with potholes that our maximum speed was about 50 km/h. We were planning on camping at one of the Quiet Lake sites but we decided to continue on to Lapie Canyon. The Canol Road started off a little boring, but as we neared Ross River it became spectacular. Unfortunately by the time we got to the scenic part, it was past 9pm and the light was dim. We arrived at about 10:30pm and had to use our headlights to set up camp. The site was gorgeous but we didn't spend much time there and headed out early the next morning.
Pins marking visitors to Faro, Yukon.
Day 2, Aug 17 : Robert Campbell Highway & Klondike Highway & Dempster Highway : Lapie Canyon to Tombstone National Park - It was a relief to be on paved roads again and the kilometres passed quickly. We stopped in at Faro and learned a bit about the project to clean up the aftermath of the mining operation there (basically making busy work for people cleaning an unclean able mess).
Oscar on the Grizzly Trail at Tombstone National Park.
The drive to Tombstone National Park on the Dempster Highway was gorgeous, but once we got to the campground we realized it was a long week-end in the Yukon and all the sites were taken. We found a site reserved for groups that could be used for overflow camping after 8pm so we decided to wait it out. In the meantime, I took Ozzie and Maggie on a hike. We ended up staying in the overflow site which was fortunate because it had a huge covered area and it rained until we left the next day.
The Palace Grand Theatre in Dawson, Yukon.
Day 3, Aug 18 : Top of the World Highway & Taylor Highway : Tombstone National Park to West Fork Campground (somewhere between Chicken and Tok) - We set out early in the rain and stopped in Dawson for some lunch at my favourite Dawson restaurant, Triple Js. After hyping it up to Rich, they actually forgot about our order, although when it arrived it was delicious and they didn't charge us for our whole order. We wandered around town a bit. All of us loved Dawson and we filed it away as one of those places we would be happy to live in. We took a short, free ferry ride across the Yukon river and prepared ourselves for the wonders of the Top of the World Highway. And we saw.... nothing. Unless you consider featureless white something. We travelled the entire scenic route in a pea soup fog which didn't lift until we crossed into Alaska.
The "view" from the Top of the World Highway.
After the traditional border guard grumpiness we enjoyed our drive on until we found a lovely place to camp at the West Fork campground for a mere ten bucks featuring a majestic view of the Fortymile River.
West Fork of the Fortymile River, Alaska.
Day 4, Aug 19 : Alaska Highway : West Fork to Haines Junction - After leaving our little paradise in West Fork we took a slight detour to Tok. Much of the highway was on flats with mountains in the distance. It was less majestic than Canol road but interesting in it's own way.
The road to Tok, Alaska.
In Tok, we indulged in some good ol' American tourist shopping including some overpriced snacks, Alaska travel mugs and, of course, heaps of fudge. On slight sugar high we motored on to the Canadian border where we encountered yet another grumpy border guard. This time he almost turned us back because we had too much mud on our truck. To be fair, we did have a lot of mud on our truck, all from the Top of the World highway in Canada though. He grudgingly let us through saying, "If you were American, I'd 'ave turned you back.” Good to know. I have an unsubstantiated theory that border guards in remote location have been sent to "Alaska" as punishment for some infraction which may explain their crotchety demeanour.
The back of our 4Runner.
Between Beaver Creek and Haines Junction, by far the best scenery was at the Kluane Lake, beautifully serene and an unusual shade of blue. Unfortunately I was driving (under the back-seat driver scrutiny of Richard) so I don't have any photos. We camped at the nearly-empty Pine Lake campground that night, and enjoyed having the beach to ourselves.
The evening sun on some trees (Pine trees, I would guess?) at Pine Lake, Yukon.
Oscar enjoying a peaceful morning at Pine Lake, Yukon.
Day 5, Aug 20 : Alaska Highway : Haines Junction to Rancheria - After a gorgeous morning enjoying Pine Lake, the wheels came off in Whitehorse. Literally. We had the wheels taken off our car by our old neighbour and mechanic Rick so we could get all of the mud off with a wire brush. Rick's driveway ended up with a fine coating of End of the World Highway dust and we drove off with a functioning 4Runner. Then we picked up our trailer, said good-bye to Whitehorse and started retracing our route along the Alaska Highway we took in January. This time the surroundings were covered in green instead of snow and looked completely different. We drove towards the arch of a full rainbow for a good hour through the area around Teslin.
The bridge in Teslin (with bonus rainbow.)
Chasing a rainbow on the Alaska Highway near Teslin.
We set up camp late, at a slightly depressing government campground right off the Highway just before Watson Lake and went straight to bed.
The sign forest in Watson Lake. Yukon.
Day 6, Aug 21 : Alaska Highway : Rancheria, YT to Liard Hot Springs, BC - We stopped at the sign forest in Watson Lake. Somehow, we'd completely missed it in January. Ozzie raced around the maze of road signs, municipality signs and licence plates. We didn't have too far to go to get to our next stop, Liard Hot Springs. The second largest Hot Springs in Canada, Liard was busy but beautiful. The hot water was delightful after 6 days with no shower. We were a bit disconcerted by an uninvited visitor watching us from the bank of the river but the bear just munched on foliage and left us alone. We decided on a quick dip the next morning instead of staying another day as planned. The worries about finding a place to live in Red Deer urged us forward.
Day 7, Aug 22 : Alaska Highway : Liard Hot Springs, BC to Fort Nelson, BC - We woke up an had an early morning dip in the hot springs. Everything was eerily still. The spiderwebs, invisible during the day, were coated from the morning mist and outlined by the sun. Feeling refreshed, we packed up and headed south. The drive through northern BC was beautiful but was sad to see the landscape slowly change from mountains to rolling hills. We camped at a nice site in Andy Bailey Regional Park where we had a path from our campsite to the lake. Oscar and Maggie got lots of frolicking in before the next big leg in our journey.
One of our last mountain views in Northern British Columbia.
Oscar and Maggie playing at Andy Bailey Regional Park.
Day 8, Aug 23 : Alaska Highway, Hwy 43 : Fort Nelson, BC to Valleyview, AB - Either the marketing department for Alberta Parks is rubbish, or they are trying to keep the location of their campground secret from outsiders, but a trip to Tourist Information in Grande Prairie was necessary to track down our next camping spot. Once there, they were very helpful pointing us towards a campground. The only detraction from the lovely Young Point campground was the dead fish on the shore of the lake and the dire warnings posted about the lake water. The cautions for coming into contact with this water reminded me of the warnings on darkroom chemicals from my college days. Basically flush with fresh water immediately. Pretty, though.
Day 9, Aug 24 : Valleyview, AB to Red Deer, AB : Hwy 43, 2 - As we approached our final destination our thought turned to the challenges ahead. The scenery pretty much went by unnoticed as we were occupied inside our own heads. The last 60 kilometres seemed to take an extraordinarily long time, but finally we arrived, safe and sound, at the Lions Campground in Red Deer.
We’ve completed another 9 day journey to change our lives. Will we end up staying here? I’m not so sure. The north just felt like home. Time will tell. All thing being equal, after four months, Rich will be certified to teach in Canada and we will be able to finally settle down.
Cinnamon roll a la Derric. Photo by Christa Galloway.
When I first started at Air North as a flight attendant, I heard about an aviation legend.
I was learning how to use the ovens to heat Air North’s signature delicious warm cookies. Flight attendants sometimes use these ovens to heat their meals. I used to admire my co-workers elaborate lasagnas, curries and soups, prepared by hand at home and re-heated to perfection in the on-board kitchen. I was more of a carrot sticks and sandwich lady myself.
Someone, I can’t remember who, said, “There is a flight attendant who bakes in these ovens.”
“Like, from scratch?” I asked.
“Yeah, bread, cinnamon rolls, all kinds of stuff. His name is Derric, you’ll probably never meet him though, he’s part time.”
Now, I’ve made bread, and cinnamon rolls, from scratch, in my home kitchen with all of the amenities available to me. Most of the time I can get a decent result, after a lot of practise, but I’ve had my fair share of rock hard cinnamon rolls and sunken bread. To get a nice result on an airplane at 37,000 feet? Impossible.
I would probably never meet this Derric because he doesn’t exist. It must be a flight attendant hazing ritual or a urban aviation legend.
I ended up working with Derric a lot during the busy summer season, and it’s all true. The man can make delicious, perfect cinnamon rolls, in an airplane. In fact, he made some the first time I ever worked with him.
Derric with his "legendary" cinnamon rolls. Photo by Christa Galloway.
Keep in mind, we often start work at silly times, like 5:45am. Goodness know how early he had to wake up to make the dough, let it rise, pound it down, let it rise and so on before coming in to work. But it was worth it, the results were delicious.
This kind of thing was what made the job fun. Working with people like Derric, who weren’t just getting through the work day, but embracing it. When you do almost exactly the same thing, every day, a little fun and variety changes everything. The days I worked with flight attendants like Derric, I served passengers with a genuine smile on my face and a spring in my step. Fortunately for me, several flight attendants were fun to work with.
Baking at 37,000 feet. Photo by Christa Galloway.
If you are worried that our passengers were strapped their seats hungry and thirsty while we were merrily baking away in the back you can rest assured that the passengers were always, always looked after before we looked after ourselves. On busy flights we often didn’t have a chance to eat at all. And, of all the flight attendants, Derric is one of the most conscientious about making sure the passengers are treated well. He has cookie warming and seat belt crossing down to a science. Once, when we were delayed in Fairbanks for over an hour with passengers stuck on the plane he had us do a water service, food service and a drink service before take-off. Plus he sent us all in to chat with passengers, make them feel comfortable and help them any way we could. When those passengers left the plane back in Dawson, two hours later than they were expected, they thanked us and said it was a great flight.
It’s a pleasure to do a job when you can do it well and enjoy it. It wasn’t always like that, but when it was, I feel the passengers benefitted. Having happy employees who enjoy their job is an important and often overlooked aspect of good customer service. It’s a lesson I will take with me in whatever I do next.
I lie on my back and stare at the splotches of rain falling on the roof of the tent. I am snuggled in my sleeping bag, wearing long underwear under a sweatshirt and fleece pjs, with my still warm hot water bottle at my feet and a duvet over everything. Only my face is cold. I am loath to leave my cocoon, even to make a hot coffee which I am craving. My son is beside me, playing on the iPad, fully under the covers in a fleece sleeper, happy as a clam.
I watch the tent ceiling for so long that I get to witness the transition from cold to damn cold as the clear rain droplets falling on the roof change to darker splotches of snow. This development serves to justify my decision to stay in my sleeping bag. As curiosity takes precedence over comfort, I risk sticking an arm out to unzip the window. The fluffy white flakes falling outside are beautiful while at the same time slightly depressing.
It is mid-September in Edmonton. My husband and I have moved from Whitehorse with our 4-year old son and our golden retriever so he can attend the university of Alberta for a month and complete a practicum in Red Deer from October until December. My husband, Richard, is a certified teacher in the UK but must re-certify in order to teach in Canada. We have meagre savings and will not have any income over the four months so we have forgone hotels in favour of campsites. So far, we have been camping for 24 days while we wait to move into the one pet-friendly, inexpensive, short term rental apartment we could find.
Richard is at university right now. As I think of him, warm and dry, perhaps finger painting in art class or contemplating scholarly things I can't help but feel a little envy. He has had his own struggles though, as the lone older man in a class of 20-somethings in their fourth year of university. Last month he even died his gorgeous silver hair darker so he would fit in more. After his last haircut he now has silver hair at his temples which only makes him look more distinguished.
During Richard's studies we are staying at the Rainbow Valley campground beside a ski hill (yes, what must be the world’s smallest ski hill exists in Edmonton.) It a short trip public transport for him and I get to have the car, which is handy on cold days like today. To be honest, once I’m outside the tent and moving around, it doesn’t actually feel that cold, but the idea of cooking lunch and entertaining a four year old outside in the wet snow does not appeal. I'd gotten a few books at Chapters the other day and remembered they had a children's section so I decided to take Ozzie there after lunch.
Chapters was actually better than I thought it would be. There was a place for kids to draw, a train table, and some sample toys to play with. Other than hearing "mummy can I have this?" every few minutes it seemed like nice way to kill a few hours.
Several children came and during the time we were there. I started chatting to a mother of two girls. She commented that it is a nice place to come during bad weather. She having some renovations done on her house. I agreed, mentioning that we were staying in a tent at a campground, so this was great. She looked at me sideways and gave her kids a two minute warning that they were leaving.
After Oscar and I did a puzzle that was missing a third of the pieces it became more difficult to ignore the stares of the saleswoman. I had the distinct impression that we'd stayed too long, and I didn't have an armful of expensive purchases to justify it. One time when Oscar asked why he couldn’t have something, I said "no" because it wasn't on sale. This prompted him is examine each item in the store yelling "is this on SALE mummy?" I eventually picked up a half price item for Ozzie and decided to look for another place to stay warm and dry. I opted to give the GPS a chance to find us a library.
I have a love/hate relationship with my GPS. I know I couldn't navigate the city without it, but at the same time I suspect she thinks I wronged it in a past life and it's getting revenge. The first day Richard was at university I tried to get to the grocery store. She led me right past it and to a one way street headed the other direction. On my way back to the campsite she gave me about 20 left turn instructions, one after the other. Yes, that's right, I drove in a circle 5 times. When I drove in another direction to break the cycle, parked, and redid the route, she led me right back to the never ending left hand turn nightmare again.
Since then we've reached a bit of a truce. Also, I’ve gotten to I know the area a bit better and occasionally ignore her instructions when I know they are wrong. But the library was in uncharted territory. I decided to risk it.
"What's the rule in the car when mummy's driving?" I asked Oscar once he was strapped in. He didn't answer. "Exactly," I said. Silence. This rule was created during the unending loop nightmare, made more difficult when my angel started throwing his boots at the back of my head and shouting "where are we going?"
I've learned to drive slow and not worry about impatient drivers behind me. I'm very happy for all the drivers in Edmonton who know exactly where they are going and want to get there as quickly as possible, but you are all just going to have to work around me. This time a police car tailed me for a few blocks and then drove beside me and behind me. There are distracted driving laws in Alberta, and I was driving slowly so I'm pretty sure they were checking if I was on my phone or drinking a coffee. What they would have seen is me, hunched over the wheel, a sceptical look on my face, a child in the back and Yukon plates navigating a right turn over a bike lane while checking my blind spot four times. They drove off and left me alone.
The sceptical look was because the GPS was saying "you’re destination is on the right,” and of course there was no library in sight. I decided to find a parking lot and calmly try not to throw my GPS on the floor and smash her to a million pieces. Since my GPS is also my phone, this would not have been good. I maneuvered my car to a spot in a nearby shopping plaza and let out a heavy sigh. I briefly contemplated banging my head on the steering wheel like they do in the movies but thought better of it. I looked up. EPL, the sign in front of me said. Edmonton Public Library.
The EPL was great. They had some toys and learning computer games for kids. I read and Oscar played, Oscar and I played together, we were warm and dry.
Tonight will be an early night, with new cold-avoidance adventures for tomorrow. Tonight, I dream of a roof over my head, a shower that doesn’t need loonies, wifi and Netflix, printing documents without paying 25 cents a sheet and being able to drink liquids in the evening because if I have to pee in the night it's no big deal. Oh, the luxury.
