Yukon Life: If You're Happy No Amount Of Darkness Matters.

"Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in a forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers." ~T.S. Eliot

These days in Whitehorse, the sun rises at about 9:48 am and sets just before 4pm. That's 6 precious hours to cast a shadow. And the sun doesn't mess around. True, the dawns and dusks seem more lengthy, but the darkness always wins. I feel as though I am on a night shift, even though I have never worked one before. 

The other morning, lying in bed, cocooned in a web of blankets and I thought about what changes I notice most about these colder days. My sweet cottage is a tiny castle….diminutive in size but large in charm. I love that it has a slant…cupboard doors swing open wildly, my studio chair is always wanting to roll away from the easel. It reminds me of quaint little cottages in Newfoundland. It only has two rooms, plus a small bathroom. It is all I need. It doesn't take you long in a small space to realise how much is superfluous. You become discerning out of necessity. 

Dawn at Fish Lake a few weeks ago

In the mornings, in the dark, there are few sounds outside of my cottage. My bed is against two exterior walls, so it is quite refreshing when it is -30ºC. I huddle under my Hudson's Bay blanket and Icelandic throw picked up in Reykjavik. I hear cars driving slowly down the lane way behind the cottage, the snow protesting in strange, dry squeaks. My neighbour says foxes are fond of the lane way, which makes me happy, knowing they are out there padding around in their fluffy auburn raiment. As I drove along Robert Service Way paralleling the Yukon River there other day I saw a fox cross up ahead of me. Thankfully he stood still and regarded me as I drove past…this beautiful creature out in the freezing cold, just doing his thing. Lovely.

The windows of Rose Cottage have had a whole story of their own this past month as the cold has set in. I have moisture in my cottage that is forming elaborate ice formations, almost stalactites, inside my storm windows, and in the case of my bedroom window, which doesn't have a storm window, in my room. It's weird to see the ice there, not melting, even though my cottage is 17ºC. Outside the ice blooms into floral patterns, dancing horses, tendrils of icy, tiny leviathans, otherworldly plants. Watching them shift with the alternating temperature is like watching clouds pass overhead and forming them into stories. 

When it gets below minus 25 the cold starts to do crazy things. Everything becomes more brittle. Even the water in our bodies starts to slow down and freeze…the pain of having exposed flesh sets in quickly. I have already begun stocking my car with emergency supplies, even though I don't want to drive too far out of town until I get snow tires. 

Layers of light at Fish Lake

Sasha's coat is getting thicker by the day. I love that he is on this journey with me, adapting and learning about life up here in the North. The biggest bummer is the ice on the windows. While beautiful, it is an impediment for him as he loves watching the world go by. In a 450 square cottage, he can use all of the activity he can find. He is my constant companion...5,400km driven together across this great country of Canada. I am proud of him. A tiny trooper.

Sasha Fierce

Mist rising off of the Yukon River at 9am last week...

The other day it was about -34ºC with the windchill. I saw light and mist rising off of the Yukon River. In a few minutes I had snapped a photo of a sun dog…my first! It is a beautiful phenomenon that I believe is specific to cold environments. It has to do with some sort of specific refraction of light…I think...it's a bit of magic undeniably. 

The darkness is pervasive this time of year. It is new, and fun, and slightly intimidating. But I realized the other morning with some momentary clarity: when you are happy, no amount of darkness matters.

Yukon Living...The Sweetest Peace

The timber wolves will be our friends.

We'll stay up late and howl,

At the moon, till nighttime ends,

Before going on the prowl.

Oh, what a life! We cannot wait,

To be in that arctic land,

Where we'll be masters of our fate,

And lead a life that's grand!

~excerpt from Calvin & Hobbes' "The Yukon Song", by Bill Watterson

It has been almost three weeks since I arrived in Whitehorse, Yukon Territory. The drive was truly an odyssey, and the peace that has followed has also been overwhelming. After so many months of planning, my dream really has come true.

The air here is as clean as I remember. No more hacking cough from particulate in the air. The roads are quiet, much quieter than what I am used to. Everything is within a five minute walk as I am downtown. The Yukon river is 350 m away.

Emerald Lake. I drove too far and missed the turnoff to a friend's house

...but this was a great site to pass despite my error:)

The community here is close knit and supportive. There is always something going on. The cold and snow is just par for the course for the people here in the Yukon. Each time of day here, each moment of each season, changes almost before your eyes.

An unkindness of ravens surveyed the Yukon River as I walked by them yesterday...

McLean Lake. Went jogging here one day. No one around as usual. Perfect:)

Recently as I drove down the Robert Service Expressway into Whitehorse I looked across at Grey Mountain (or Canyon Mountain, it's proper name) across The Yukon River. I was struck by the rivulets of golden-yellow tendrils of far off trees whose leaves were reaching up onto the mountain as far as possible. Within 24 hours many leaves have given up the ghost and dropped down to the forest floor, like bright little mandalas. Beautiful. Ephemeral.

Driving down the South Klondike Hihgway...I see mountains every day now. Joy!

I will often paint in my little studio all day and then go for a 3-5 mile hike on Grey Mountain. There are well marked trails and you will rarely see another person. More likely you will see a porcupine, deer, or even a bear. This year has been a bumper crop in terms of berries I hear, and so some friends and I are going berry picking on the weekend. A true Northern tradition. I made some cranberry jam today, and will be blogging about that process, as well as the process of picking the berries.

Hidden Lake, which I passed on a recent hike. 

I have spent so much time and energy thinking about being here, planning, organizing, that the peace felt now that I'm settling in is palpable. All of that energy can now rest and be turned over into the soil of this new place. I honesty cannot remember being this happy. This place is polarizing. So much happening yet so much quiet and stillness if you turn away from the hum as well.

It is definitely autumn here in The Yukon..

Sasha is getting used to the little cottage where I live. His space has lessened but his personality is just as big and he keeps me up regularly at night wanting to play. What a trooper. I knew he could do the trip, and now his coat is getting thicker each day. He will need the extra insulation as the snow will be flying within two weeks most likely.

Moody skies at Lewes Lake, off the South Klondike Highway

Each day when I step out of my little cottage I am so thankful. I look at the mountains across the river and breathe the clean air and smile. I need nothing more. My cup is full, and The Yukon is a cup that never runs dry. 

Tenacious New Roots: Whitehorse & The Yukon 2012

“When it's over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement.

I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it is over, I don't want to wonder if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,or full of argument. I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.”~Mary Oliver

Each time you visit a place that resonates with you it is harder to leave. As my time here in The Yukon Territory draws to a close I feel even more of myself being left behind here. Have you ever visited a place that just felt “right”? That you felt an immediate gravitational pull towards? When I first visited Vancouver in 2003 I felt this way, but upon arriving in Alaska in 2008 my path was forever altered: The North was where I belonged.

The Yukon river, like a twisting muscle of blues and blacks, flows continually by..

Imagine my delight when I first arrived in The Yukon: like Alaska, but within my country of Canada. I was elated, and that elation has lasted, even when I have been in Ontario in between journeys up here, for the last three years. So when you feel that draw to a place you naturally try to get back to it. I have just spent the last three weeks here in Whitehorse, meeting new friends, hiking, sailing, painting, mountain biking and squeezing every drop of experience possible out of it all. It has been unforgettable in so many ways.

The intent of this journey was a working vacation.I was able to complete two new paintings for my upcoming solo painting exhibition: "Surfacing", at Abbozzo Gallery  in Oakville, Ontario (November 2-17^th). Throughout this creative process I hiked and explored new areas of Whitehorse, Haines Junction and more. Waking up every morning and seeing the countenance of the mountains on the horizon or at my feet, never ceased to amaze me. I understand why so many Ontarians have moved here. The people are so helpful when I mention that I am a painter and what sort of suggestions might they have as to how I might integrate my artwork into the vibrant culture up here.

The Yukon is a great supporter of artists and the arts. There are lots of artists up here, working artists, passionate artists, and I didn’t even get up to Dawson, where everyone says I must visit. When I return I definitely want to do this. On a side note, I think it would be pretty amazing to canoe from Whitehorse to Dawson as so many have done, whether racing or for leisure.

I can understand how Yukoners and people who live in the North feel the urge to get out into the sunshine, traverse the tundra, and embrace the ephemeral summer months here. According to friends, it is winter for about 8 months of the year here, so it stands to reason that people are out hiking, canoeing, kayaking, biking and out in the sun as much as possible, to soak up lots of that Vitamin D before the sun starts to dip lower on the horizon after the summer solstice.

The majority of the days I was here I worked on two paintings, a little 5”x7” piece and a larger, 18”x24” painting. To wake up, feel the coolness on my skin from the window open during the night (temps would dip to about 8ºC), make a coffee and settle down in front of my makeshift easel and paint for six hours was bliss. Having such a lack of distraction from noise, advertisements, din, crowds, traffic and the like really helps with focus. Having a tendency towards being anxious and rabbit-hearted, I am particularly affected by external stimulation like this so its absence was welcome. Instead I had the rosy sun slanting across the wall and arcing high above the lodgepole pines that frame my friend’s backyard.If you walked 10 minutes outside his backyard you would be in the wilderness. It is everywhere. It is wonderful.

En route home from Haines Junction, west of Whitehorse

Oftentimes on my walk or jog to the Canada Games Centre I would hear the chortle of ravens swooping overhead, their throaty voices breaking the silence periodically to remind me that I was far from Southwestern Ontario. I would get up and stretch on my breaks, gazing at the slate blue mountains on the horizon across the river and beyond, see groups of fuschia-coloured fireweed in gardens and along the roadside. My daily walks and jogs down Hamilton Blvd became a daily ritual, except on the days when I went for a run by the Yukon River on the Millennium Trail, or met with a new friend such as freelance writer Eva Holland, who has penned stories for Up Here magazine and many more publications. I also had a coffee with CBC North's Dave White. Always nice to reconnect with him. That phrase “strangers are friends we haven’t met yet” is so true. I now feel as though I have a little place in the community here. My favourite hangout is Baked Café, where I picked up some lovely Bean North Coffee. I brought it back to Ontario with me and am savouring each cup. 

At Baked Café

On certain days I went farther afield and new experiences. I hiked in Kluane National Park with my friend before he departed on his trip this month. We had a great hike with views down Slims River to the glaciers that slide in slow motion down the mountains at the end of the valley. It was a great hike and nice to actually explore a bit of the park. I hiked in Wrangell St. Elias National Park which joins Kluane in 2009, so it was sort of a revisiting. But considering the immense size of the two parks, it was also like a brand new world too. On another occasion I met a new friend in Haines Junction, a small community of less than 400 people that lives in the shadow of the mountains of Kluane. I relaxed in her little log home with she and her husband, met their sled dogs and capped off the day with the glorious drive back from Haines Junction to Whitehorse. Perfect.

The view from "Yurtville" at Boréale Biking, looking out over Whitehorse

I was fortunate enough to meet the great folks at Boréale Biking this summer as well. I have been following them for awhile on Twitter and so we arranged to meet and do a little bit of mountain biking together. I had never mountain biked with a full suspension bike before and so it was a great baptism into a new form of wilderness adventure. Marsha and Sylvain, my hosts, were so kind, amazing cooks, and their little hamlet of yurts, known as “Yurtville” made my time there pretty spectacular. I had my own little yurt for the night, with a little skylight, the sounds of the wilderness just outside the walls and the amazingly warm comforter that kept me snug and warm during the cool night.  My biking guide Dave was very patient with me, giving me tips on how to position myself on the bike during ascents and descents, advice on general practice of what to do and not to do, and said that I did very well for my first time out. I cannot wait to get back on the trails.

The main yurt at Boréale Biking, and an inside view...

More highlights were hiking with a new group of friends who meet regularly. We laughed and they brought along a few of their dogs who accompanied us on the hike. I look forward to move excursions with all of them. Also I will remember fondly my visit to The Chocolate Claim, meeting Chantal at Unity Clothing, grabbing a pint at the High Country Inn after an afternoon of hiking on Discovery Day yesterday, and sailing across Lake Laberge on a 26 foot sailboat. I fit a lot into three weeks, but it did not feel like too much. It was enough to keep me busy yet productive with my art. I cannot thank my new friends enough for welcoming me  here and answering my questions about life up here in the Yukon, what brought them here and what keeps them here. I came away with so many riches that I will treasure always.

A panorama of the little cove on Lake Laberge where we docked the sailboat..

Gorgeous viewpoint after our hike up the ridge..didn't see a soul :)

The Yukon gets into your cells and your lungs. Its energy and peaceful spirit seep into you through a type of quiet and steady osmosis. Most importantly it enters into our hearts and we are forever changed. Or perhaps it is us that walk into its heart. 

SURFACING:

New Paintings By Heather Horton

November 2-17, 2012

Abbozzo Gallery, Oakville, Ontario

Opening Reception November 2, 7-10pm

Artist meet and greet November 4, 2-4pm

You can see more available paintings via my website: heatherhorton.com 

and at Abbozzo Gallery's website: abbozzogallery.com 

Hiking In The Ibex Valley: Whitehorse and The Yukon 2010

"I would rather wake up in the middle of nowhere than in any city on earth."

~Steve McQueen

I knew for three weeks about this hike. It haunted me a bit, frightened me a bit, thrilled me too. 27 km in 6 hours? It seemed rather ambitious yet I was up for the challenge. My friend Ian, whose house I was sitting (along with his cats) in Whitehorse, YT, told me before departing for Uzbekistan, that a small group of us would do a good hike before my flight back to Ontario. He explained it was across the floor of the Ibex Valley, a gorgeous region of land 25km north of Whitehorse. We would use two cars, one at our extraction point and one at the beginning of the trail. Here is a map of the Ibex Valley. Our hike looped below the Alaska Highway and met back up with it via a side road.

We organized our gear at the start of the trail. I was excited to try my Osprey daypack, a Kestrel 28L, as I knew it would be the perfect place to put it through its paces, as well as being handy for many future day hikes. There were four of us in total, and we headed out on trail which is usually frequented by bikers, ATV enthusiasts and skiers in the winter.

The trail was mostly flat, with a few rolling hills but no steep ascents or descents. We made good time and chatted amiably amongst ourselves. I was glad I had packed lots of water and some Gatorade, as well as lots of food. It is amazing how quickly you become depleted when hiking, especially if you are hiking at a good clip. I had forgotten my Camelbak in Ontario but it was easy to drink while hiking with the side pockets on the pack. I didn't want to slow the group down and was determined to keep pace with them. All three of my friends are consummate Yukoners, seasoned hikers, used to multi-day treks and much more ambitious excursions than this one. Thus I wanted to prove my mettle by not lagging on the trail.

As we crested a ridge I caught sight of a beautiful perspective...snow capped mountains as far as the eye could see. I looked out, loving the thought that they were so untampered with, not trodden upon by many people at all...the land free to breathe as it wished.

You can see from this photo the angle of the sun was quite distinctive. I wish I could articulate what it is about light and the North, what makes it so unique. I'm sure it must have to do with the latitude and angle of the sun, but from this artist's perspective I can only appreciate the effect it has on me rather than analyzing why it is the way it is. At times it is almost diaphanous, thin like the air, gauze-like. It's rays reach like a filigree over the earth. It bewitches.

Here are a couple of the many MANY bear tracks we saw on the trail. The earth was sandy and it was easy to make out the tracks...fortunately they were going in the opposite direction! The top photo shows an adult black bear while the shot below is a cub. We had bear mace and tried to make noise so as not to surprise them and reduce the chance of a potentially nasty encounter.

About 9 miles along the trail we approached a lake where my friends knew would be a perfect spot to stop for lunch. I asked Ian and the group about living in the Yukon and listened to them talk knowledgeably about animal tracks and previous adventures in the North. It is certainly a land of extremes: extreme climate, beauty, potential, serenity, and certainly extreme fortitude.

The vista took my breath away. My heart sang with gratitude that I was seeing this and experiencing this special place. We only passed a handful of people on the trail, all of whom were on bikes. They seemed a bit incredulous that we were hiking rather than biking the distance. As we neared the lake I could discern that it had a glorious turquoise colour, a quiet gem in the wilderness. A few birds were around but, as in Alaska, the enormity of the landscape made birdsong few and far between...silence predominated.

So many greens and soft colours composed the landscape. It was as though the earth was waiting to open with vibrancy and colour in a few weeks of warmer weather.

Although I knew the waters would be frigid I had an urge to jump into the lake, to break that still mirror reflecting the mountains above it.

After lunch we continued on, covering ground quickly. We spotted a few elusive Dall sheep up on the mountains to our left...small specks of white contrasted with the dark shale. We marvelled at their habitat, such a precarious life, their survival depending on their surefootedness.

After six hours we made it back to the car that we had left as a shuttle for ourselves. My feet ached but the rest of me was happily exhausted, a great day of exploration and companionship behind us. In times of sickness or fatigue, when I am in a crowded waiting room or on the subway, I think back to this day, use these memories as food to carry me through the trying times. It takes one to truly appreciate the other.

We discover that nothing can be taken for granted, for if this ring of stone is marvelous then all which shaped it is marvelous, and our journey here on earth,

able to see and touch and hear in the midst of tangible and mysterious things-in-

themselves, is the most strange and daring of all adventures. ~Edward Abbey

A Beautiful Silence...Whitehorse 2010

The trail that hugs the shores of the Yukon River

We're all like detectives in life.

There's something at the end of the trail that we're all looking for.

~David Lynch

Last Friday I went for a run down by the Yukon River. It has been just over two weeks since I arrived in Whitehorse. Most days have been clear and sunny, or the occasional clouding over which has lent a lovely atmosphere with the mountains off in the distance.

Admittedly I'm a cautious girl, despite traipsing off and hiking alone in Alaska this past weekend (that will be another post, another day :)). Thus when my friend Ian told me about a great loop to run down by the river I was excited and scheduled it in as an alternate to my usual route down Hamilton Blvd to the Canada Games Centre and back (about 4.5km). This loop by the river is about 5km. Thus I headed down and parked near the S.S. Klondike, a designated national historic site which is situated right at the river on the way into town.

islands of ice line the river

It was brisk at 9am on Friday morning. Granted it WAS a workday. Nevertheless I was astonished at how few people I saw on the trail. In fact, aside from maybe two other joggers and one man walking his dog, I saw no one for the entire loop...It was alternately peaceful and unnerving. I was raised in the suburbs...a town that is home to 155,000 people. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the capital city of The Yukon Territory only having 25,000 people. Once you leave Whitehorse the average settlement that you encounter is only home to about 300-800 people...as another example, there are about 700,000 people in Mississauga, a suburb of Toronto that is two cities over from Burlington where I live. That is the ENTIRE population of Alaska contained within Mississauga essentially. Wow.

The patterns of ice were so beautiful, I was quite hypnotized by them.

Ian had informed me that there was a bridge called the "fish ladder"that crossed the river some distance down the trail. Thus I set off along the asphalt and stopped periodically to take photos of the melting ice on the river. The last time I saw this river was in Alaska...it certainly has personality...clear waters that vary from teal to slate blue-gray....it ranges from over a hundred feet across to narrower channels but always, always is on the move. I was glad I had my toque with me as I skirted the river and paralleled Robert Service way, one of the main thoroughfares into the city. Even so there were not many cars going by (surprise).

Here is a short video that I shot while running along the river.

A fun side trip but I had definitely taken a wrong turn

As I made my way around the loop I encountered a small wooden bridge. Not knowing the area I presumed that this was the bridge Ian referred to. I was wrong. The asphalt turned into wood chips and soft earth but I kept running, happy to have a change of surface. The trail became quite overgrown in parts and I had the feeling that I had taken a wrong turn but kept on with the route. Finally I realized that indeed I was going the wrong way. Serendipitously, just at that moment another runner came by. I asked her where the elusive fish ladder was and she instructed me to where I would find it. A few minutes later and I was on track again.

The fish ladder is right at the hydro station in Whitehorse. Signs posted everywhere indicated how hazardous the area was so needless to say I hastily ran over the bridge and made my way along the far shore in the direction of the start of the loop.

The fish ladder bridge that crosses the Yukon River. A nice 5 km loop.

I have not run inside at the Canada Games Centre since arriving in Whitehorse. Generally it is easier on the knees to run on a treadmill than paved surfaces. Concrete is the bane of runners' knees. Asphalt is 10 times softer apparently and you can definitely feel the difference between the two. However here the natural trails are so ubiquitous and inviting that I would almost feel guilty running inside. Thus I cherish the fresh air and ability to run outside here.

The river with the Whitehorse skyline in behind

I happily steered clear of the water's edge here

The trails on the far side of the river veered off of the asphalt and I followed them, the soft ground being the most preferable for my feet and knees. Periodically I stopped to take shots of the river, signs and landscape. My memory of the entire experience is clean, fresh, cool air, adventure and the excitement of taking a new path. Though familiar to many residents of Whitehorse, this loop was brand new for me...a great discovery. I can't wait to run it again...Not today though....it is snowing and has been all morning. Here is the view out into the backyard when I awoke at 7am.

As the days continue on here in Whitehorse I am continually struck by the constant quiet. In fact, when I awoke this morning I heard what I thought was the soft thud of a neighbour hammering next door. Upon listening closer I realized it was the beat of my own heart.

Have a wonderful day....

"A happy life must be to a great extent a quiet life,

for it is only in an atmosphere of quiet that true joy dare live."

~Bertrand Russell

If you enjoy listening to music and want to follow me on Blip.fm please click here. Blip.fm is a free music listening website. It is a lot of fun and a great way to hear new bands. I highly recommend it. Click here if you want to join. If you do, welcome! :)