Some day, inevitably, I will regret everything that I am about to say. Some day. But for today.....
It's snowing, and I am soooo excited!! It's the craziest thing here! When it started getting dark, we were ready. When it started threatening to snow, we were ready. Weird, right? I know! But honestly, everything is to such extremes here, by the time weather changes, people are ready.
As if by decree, it started snowing today. It had to, tomorrow is halloween and it snows for halloween. Apparently that's the rule. Crazy thing is, I'm ok with that. The last 3 weeks have been very grey and oft described as Ontario-like. I hate that - grey, damp, blah and am thrilled with the current flurries.
Like I said, I will regret this, but there is nothing prettier than a mountain covered with snow, and walks are so much better with the light reflecting off of the white. I'll probably hate it if we get that 20cm tonight, but for right now. I'm very happy indeed!
Friday, October 30, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009
Black
I survived my first early morning this week. Not my first ever, but my first since it has been getting dark.
For weeks, I have started my day working from home, waiting just long enough to walk Maui once it has gotten bright out. It's been a nice way to ease into the change, and a good way to manage the hours I have been putting in.
But this week, I had to conduct a tour at 9am, which meant a walk in the dark. Apparently, I was woefully unprepared. For starters, I'm not entirely sure amidst our boxes where I might find a flashlight. I have some idea, but I had no time. I was also wearing a black coat, grey dress, black tights and black boots - not particularly safe.
We started out along the street, which was relatively ok. But the second we walked into the forest, wow, it was like hitting a brick wall. Quite literally, I could not see my own hand in front of my face (probably the black gloves) and most of the time I couldn't even see Maui's white blaze. Dogs from every direction, let into their backyards, began barking like crazy at us. They knew we were there, but I doubt they could see us. We sure could not see them.
I am not sure I have ever actually been in darkness that complete. From the street, where there is a little bit of light, it was spectacular. Millions of stars. From the woods, sheer, utter and complete black. I had to take the path by memory and talk the entire time so Maui knew where I was. She, largely, stayed on my heels and actually whimpered in fear for a large part of our walk.
I felt terrible, and will definitely not do that again.
For weeks, I have started my day working from home, waiting just long enough to walk Maui once it has gotten bright out. It's been a nice way to ease into the change, and a good way to manage the hours I have been putting in.
But this week, I had to conduct a tour at 9am, which meant a walk in the dark. Apparently, I was woefully unprepared. For starters, I'm not entirely sure amidst our boxes where I might find a flashlight. I have some idea, but I had no time. I was also wearing a black coat, grey dress, black tights and black boots - not particularly safe.
We started out along the street, which was relatively ok. But the second we walked into the forest, wow, it was like hitting a brick wall. Quite literally, I could not see my own hand in front of my face (probably the black gloves) and most of the time I couldn't even see Maui's white blaze. Dogs from every direction, let into their backyards, began barking like crazy at us. They knew we were there, but I doubt they could see us. We sure could not see them.
I am not sure I have ever actually been in darkness that complete. From the street, where there is a little bit of light, it was spectacular. Millions of stars. From the woods, sheer, utter and complete black. I had to take the path by memory and talk the entire time so Maui knew where I was. She, largely, stayed on my heels and actually whimpered in fear for a large part of our walk.
I felt terrible, and will definitely not do that again.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Articles
I'm not very inspired yet today, so here's a link to two recent articles. Another comes out in a week or two.
For background, we received $75,000 through a community development grant to develop 14 interpretive panels and to build 6 viewing platforms at the Preserve. The point was to stimulate the economy by buying local and hiring local people, as well as increase a sense of community by incorporating volunteers. It makes for a very complicated project!
With 10 days left, we've thought of almost nothing but this project for the past 6-8 weeks and probably won't until the very detailed post-project report is done mid-November.
Wild Life: All About Oreamnos americanus http://bit.ly/4pYT4K
Wild Life: Work that Satisfies http://bit.ly/I0bIM
Sunday, October 18, 2009
So sleepy
I have to admit it, I have been struggling with this season change. Not really struggling, just feeling sleepy and lazy. Funny thing is, I expect I always have trouble waking up as it gets darker in the morning, and getting energized as it gets cooler and/or gloomier, but I don't think I have ever really given it much thought. These days, however, I get asked so often about the dark/how I'm handling the dark/how tired I might be/etc that I am extremely conscious of it all. Which makes me think, perhaps wrongly, that this year is different.
In a comforting way, I am learning that everyone else I know is struggling too. It's strange, I think I had some crazy perception that everyone who lived in Whitehorse was unaffected by the seasons and the darkness, but they do. In some way, it's comforting. In a recent edition of What's Up Yukon, my editor wrote this editorial. It struck a cord with me. Enjoy.
I'm Just Saying: It's Cheechako's First Winter
October 15, 2009
BY DARRELL HOOKEY
This is a special column just for you Cheechakos. If you are a Sourdough, you already know this stuff. Flip the page and you will find a delightful column by Rob Millar on how to barbecue tofu.
OK, here is your first “winter lesson”: when someone said to you, “Have you seen Grey Mountain?”, you should not have been offended. Yes, of course you've seen Grey Mountain. I mean, c'mon, it's a mountain. Kinda hard to miss a mountain when it's right there in the middle of town.
But what they were really saying was, first, “I thought you were a Sourdough” (a real compliment) and, more to the point, “Winter is getting closer and closer.”
You see, those of us who live in Whitehorse know that Old Man Winter lives on top of Grey Mountain and he slowly reaches his foulness toward the city a little bit every day.
Every day, we get to see it get closer and we know it will be even closer tomorrow. And, when it is, indeed, closer the next morning, we say to each other, “Have you seen Grey Mountain?” This is usually followed by words of comfort that are neither meant nor believed.
Unspoken is the fact that Teslin is probably already a goner.
You will never hear someone respond with, “Whoo hoo! I'm going to get my ice fishing gear ready!” or “I can hardly wait until I can catch snowflakes on my tongue!”
Do you want to know why? Because November and December are not the ideal ice fishing season; and having snowflakes slammed into the back of your throat on 55 km/h winds loses that sense of fun real quick.
Sure, snowflakes fall gently to the earth, but then the winds catch it and whip them at you and over your parka's collar, through the layers of fleece and kicks in that trapdoor of your long johns and up your ... oh! ... my goodness.
The snow (the horror, the horror) keeps falling. I remember when it used to snow only twice a week. Now it is every day, and if you don't shovel it off the sidewalk right away, it turns into the hardest ice imaginable.
“How can ice be hard or not hard?” you ask. You're a Cheechako, you wouldn't understand. Just realize that early winter around here is like a dinner served cold, like a shoe that pinches; like a boss that yells, like Elisabeth Hasselbeck when she talks.
And it is dark; it is oh so dark. December is the darkest month.
So, you are now wondering: Why do people live here when you have snow on the ground six to seven months of the year?
It's because we can tolerate November and December since we are exhausted from the hectic summer and we welcome an excuse to cocoon indoors. And we can tolerate January because we are exhausted from Christmas.
But February, March and April are your reward for putting up with November, December and January.
The snow is soft and white and looks like a Christmas card everywhere you look. The sun now lasts a decent amount of time each day and warms you up when you trust it enough to open your jacket to it.
All of a sudden, the Yukon will be peopled not by parka-clad gnomes who shuffle from doorway to doorway, but instead by sporty hipsters in their brightly coloured jackets and wrap-around sunglasses.
We become the beautiful butterflies that emerge from the serviceable cocoons of Thinsulate and nylon shells.
Once you have survived early winter and rejoiced with late winter, lived the yin and yang of this place and acknowledged that the long nights are “cozy” and not “depressing”, then you may call yourself ... a Sourdough.
In a comforting way, I am learning that everyone else I know is struggling too. It's strange, I think I had some crazy perception that everyone who lived in Whitehorse was unaffected by the seasons and the darkness, but they do. In some way, it's comforting. In a recent edition of What's Up Yukon, my editor wrote this editorial. It struck a cord with me. Enjoy.
I'm Just Saying: It's Cheechako's First Winter
October 15, 2009
BY DARRELL HOOKEY
This is a special column just for you Cheechakos. If you are a Sourdough, you already know this stuff. Flip the page and you will find a delightful column by Rob Millar on how to barbecue tofu.
OK, here is your first “winter lesson”: when someone said to you, “Have you seen Grey Mountain?”, you should not have been offended. Yes, of course you've seen Grey Mountain. I mean, c'mon, it's a mountain. Kinda hard to miss a mountain when it's right there in the middle of town.
But what they were really saying was, first, “I thought you were a Sourdough” (a real compliment) and, more to the point, “Winter is getting closer and closer.”
You see, those of us who live in Whitehorse know that Old Man Winter lives on top of Grey Mountain and he slowly reaches his foulness toward the city a little bit every day.
Every day, we get to see it get closer and we know it will be even closer tomorrow. And, when it is, indeed, closer the next morning, we say to each other, “Have you seen Grey Mountain?” This is usually followed by words of comfort that are neither meant nor believed.
Unspoken is the fact that Teslin is probably already a goner.
You will never hear someone respond with, “Whoo hoo! I'm going to get my ice fishing gear ready!” or “I can hardly wait until I can catch snowflakes on my tongue!”
Do you want to know why? Because November and December are not the ideal ice fishing season; and having snowflakes slammed into the back of your throat on 55 km/h winds loses that sense of fun real quick.
Sure, snowflakes fall gently to the earth, but then the winds catch it and whip them at you and over your parka's collar, through the layers of fleece and kicks in that trapdoor of your long johns and up your ... oh! ... my goodness.
The snow (the horror, the horror) keeps falling. I remember when it used to snow only twice a week. Now it is every day, and if you don't shovel it off the sidewalk right away, it turns into the hardest ice imaginable.
“How can ice be hard or not hard?” you ask. You're a Cheechako, you wouldn't understand. Just realize that early winter around here is like a dinner served cold, like a shoe that pinches; like a boss that yells, like Elisabeth Hasselbeck when she talks.
And it is dark; it is oh so dark. December is the darkest month.
So, you are now wondering: Why do people live here when you have snow on the ground six to seven months of the year?
It's because we can tolerate November and December since we are exhausted from the hectic summer and we welcome an excuse to cocoon indoors. And we can tolerate January because we are exhausted from Christmas.
But February, March and April are your reward for putting up with November, December and January.
The snow is soft and white and looks like a Christmas card everywhere you look. The sun now lasts a decent amount of time each day and warms you up when you trust it enough to open your jacket to it.
All of a sudden, the Yukon will be peopled not by parka-clad gnomes who shuffle from doorway to doorway, but instead by sporty hipsters in their brightly coloured jackets and wrap-around sunglasses.
We become the beautiful butterflies that emerge from the serviceable cocoons of Thinsulate and nylon shells.
Once you have survived early winter and rejoiced with late winter, lived the yin and yang of this place and acknowledged that the long nights are “cozy” and not “depressing”, then you may call yourself ... a Sourdough.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
A couple of Yukon Firsts. Part One.
Number One: Last week, we were separating caribou from each other. It is the rut, and males can only share an enclosure if one acknowledges the other is king, as it were. This appeared to be an impossible task for two of our males who continued battling over and over and over again. For the record, two full size males fighting can crash through gates, caribou can also 'climb' fences to get away. Apparently, so can females when "no means no" continues to be ignored. So...we did some rearranging and moved animals to different areas. One particularly excitable male went into solitary confinement (just kidding, he's in a huge enclosure, just on his own for a bit), one male moved from co-ed to an all-male enclosure and then we encouraged the females to go home again.
By and large, a lot of running around/patient walking/encouragement, but a very smooth process. Except for one small, memorable experience. The male we were moving to solitary had to walk past the all-male enclosure to get to his new home. Generally, we let animals find their own way, and he found his way back to the bull he had been fighting. The two went antler to antler through the fence in full force. It had been my job to encourage him to keep walking up the roadway, so I was about 2 feet away when this happened.
Wow! What an amazing show of force. Their strength and determination is unbelievable. Certainly not something I can do justice to in words.
I was very impressed I stood my ground, but frankly they could not have cared less that I was there and so long as I kept my distance we were a-ok. After a few moments of battling, we were able to take advantage of their momentary break and keep moving him forward. Moments later, he was where he needed to be and seemingly pretty happy to be able to eat something in peace.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
The Moon and Stars
Last night we had a Board meeting. It lasted until 9:40 pm. The Preserve, at night, is extremely dark with very few lights. When I went outside last night, I could not see my hand in front of my face (scary) - but I saw millions and millions and millions of the most amazing stars. Breathtaking!
This morning, I woke up and begrudgingly went upstairs to do emails. Maui eventually got up too and when I let her outside (by this time around 7:30 am) I had the most amazing view of the quarter moon. It was perfectly arched. It was spectacular. It was the moon at 7:30 am!
This morning, I woke up and begrudgingly went upstairs to do emails. Maui eventually got up too and when I let her outside (by this time around 7:30 am) I had the most amazing view of the quarter moon. It was perfectly arched. It was spectacular. It was the moon at 7:30 am!
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Road Closures
I have mentioned it before, but it is very easy to forget that we live in a remote region. In so many ways, Whitehorse is just like any other urban centre and then, something happens to remind us that's not quite the case. Recently, it was the Road Report.
Every radio station reports on the territory-wide road conditions daily. It is also published online, updated regularly, by the territory. I initially found it unbelievable, but the reality is, there are very few highways/major roadways in the territory, and often there is only one route in and out of a community.
I usually block the road report out. Largely, it is updates on persons working, loose gravel, frost heaves and local smoke. Average stuff. Recently, however, a prototypical Yukon report caught my attention. In addition to the frost heaves, fog and slippery conditions, this week''s report included the following:
Highway 6, the North Canol, is now closed for the season.
The Pelly Barge has ceased operation for the season.
Canada Customs at Little Gold is now closed for the season. Highway 9, the Top of the World highway is now closed from km 86 to km 105.
The George Black Ferry is in operation from 7 a.m. to 11 p.m. The George Black Ferry will be out of service as soon as the life boats can not be launched safely due to ice conditions.
Ahh...we really are in the north. Daily updates available here.
Every radio station reports on the territory-wide road conditions daily. It is also published online, updated regularly, by the territory. I initially found it unbelievable, but the reality is, there are very few highways/major roadways in the territory, and often there is only one route in and out of a community.
I usually block the road report out. Largely, it is updates on persons working, loose gravel, frost heaves and local smoke. Average stuff. Recently, however, a prototypical Yukon report caught my attention. In addition to the frost heaves, fog and slippery conditions, this week''s report included the following:
Highway 6, the North Canol, is now closed for the season.
The Pelly Barge has ceased operation for the season.
Canada Customs at Little Gold is now closed for the season. Highway 9, the Top of the World highway is now closed from km 86 to km 105.
The George Black Ferry is in operation from 7 a.m. to 11 p.m. The George Black Ferry will be out of service as soon as the life boats can not be launched safely due to ice conditions.
Ahh...we really are in the north. Daily updates available here.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Our pick your own
Using "we" in the loosest of terms, we became members at a pick-your-own farm this summer. As anyone who knows me knows, we are huge supporters of local farmers and producers and try very hard to eat local and in season. We have not nearly reached the "almost exclusively" status that we had in Ottawa, but slowly, slowly we are getting there.
I may have already blogged about some of the challenges I experienced at the farm this summer - not the least of which is re-learning when things are ready, rushing to pick and store things when everything is ready at the same time and, as it turns out, inadequate/inappropriate storage at our apartment, meaning I have lost a lot of food I had successfully stored in Ottawa. Sigh. It has also been a bit challenging gardening around work, which was all-consuming this summer, but more than once I found myself lost in the garden for hours. The other thing which I am sure I have mentioned, is how unbelievably large the veggies get here. With near constant sunshine, veggies grow big and they grow fast - meaning the big ones are still edible, but sometimes too big to even try.
Why go to all this work? Why not just eat stuff from the grocery store? Well, my health for one, the local economy for another and, well, I don't know too many Monday night dinners that require 15 minutes prep and look like this. Yum!
I may have already blogged about some of the challenges I experienced at the farm this summer - not the least of which is re-learning when things are ready, rushing to pick and store things when everything is ready at the same time and, as it turns out, inadequate/inappropriate storage at our apartment, meaning I have lost a lot of food I had successfully stored in Ottawa. Sigh. It has also been a bit challenging gardening around work, which was all-consuming this summer, but more than once I found myself lost in the garden for hours. The other thing which I am sure I have mentioned, is how unbelievably large the veggies get here. With near constant sunshine, veggies grow big and they grow fast - meaning the big ones are still edible, but sometimes too big to even try.
Why go to all this work? Why not just eat stuff from the grocery store? Well, my health for one, the local economy for another and, well, I don't know too many Monday night dinners that require 15 minutes prep and look like this. Yum!
The Dark
It has begun. The dark I mean. You can really feel it now.
It's amazing how fast the time change happens here. Sunset, for instance, occurs about 5 minutes earlier each night. I was momentarily in Ontario about 2 weeks ago and our time was definitely the same, but within the last 2 weeks, you can feel the difference. Officially, sunrise today is at 8:34 and sunset is at 18:59 (6:59 pm). It is about 8:20 am as I write and there is definite light over the mountains, but the street lights are still on.
The real difference still, or at least so far, is the completeness of the dark. The dark blankets the earth and it is extremely difficult to see more than a foot or so in front of you. Your eyes can adjust, but the darkness is so complete that any glimpse of other light (such as from a car or streetlamp), immediately interferes with your eyes. For anyone who has lived in any urban or remotely inhabited space, it is difficult to comprehend how absolutely encompassing the darkness is.
Living in a basement means that we get that much less of the pre-sunrise and post-sunset light than most people. I have been surprised how this has alternately not at all affected what time I get up in the morning (weekdays, when I have things to do) and facilitated sleeping in, sometimes rather dramatically (weekends). For Mike and Maui, it is creating even more incentive to stay in bed and can be a bit disarming in the absence of an alarm clock to discover just how late it is.
This, of course, has not been helped by a week of Ontario-like weather. The rather grey days, has created beautiful white mountain tops, but has done nothing for my general disposition!
The upside to all of this darkness is the rather spectacular star gazing and, of course, the northern lights (which I still haven't seen). It also makes it a whole lot easier to not feel guilty about relaxing. Reading a book, playing a game, watching a movie - what else is a girl to do?
It's amazing how fast the time change happens here. Sunset, for instance, occurs about 5 minutes earlier each night. I was momentarily in Ontario about 2 weeks ago and our time was definitely the same, but within the last 2 weeks, you can feel the difference. Officially, sunrise today is at 8:34 and sunset is at 18:59 (6:59 pm). It is about 8:20 am as I write and there is definite light over the mountains, but the street lights are still on.
The real difference still, or at least so far, is the completeness of the dark. The dark blankets the earth and it is extremely difficult to see more than a foot or so in front of you. Your eyes can adjust, but the darkness is so complete that any glimpse of other light (such as from a car or streetlamp), immediately interferes with your eyes. For anyone who has lived in any urban or remotely inhabited space, it is difficult to comprehend how absolutely encompassing the darkness is.
Living in a basement means that we get that much less of the pre-sunrise and post-sunset light than most people. I have been surprised how this has alternately not at all affected what time I get up in the morning (weekdays, when I have things to do) and facilitated sleeping in, sometimes rather dramatically (weekends). For Mike and Maui, it is creating even more incentive to stay in bed and can be a bit disarming in the absence of an alarm clock to discover just how late it is.
This, of course, has not been helped by a week of Ontario-like weather. The rather grey days, has created beautiful white mountain tops, but has done nothing for my general disposition!
The upside to all of this darkness is the rather spectacular star gazing and, of course, the northern lights (which I still haven't seen). It also makes it a whole lot easier to not feel guilty about relaxing. Reading a book, playing a game, watching a movie - what else is a girl to do?
Monday, October 5, 2009
The Fleeting Fall
Fall in the Yukon is spectacular. It is beautiful, it is magnificent, it is gone. Since no words will do it justice, here are some photos.
Edmonton
In theory, I spent the last 5 days in Edmonton. In reality, I pretty much spent 5 days at the West Edmonton Mall.Last week was the CAZA conference - the Canadian Association of Zoos and Aquariums. This conference was unlike any I have ever been to before. From media training to outreach education, endangered species to climate change, animal nutrition and sea lion training - I learned a lot! Zoo people, for the record, are different than fundraisers, so it took some time to meet people. In the end, we met great people, made good contacts and I had my first meeting to discuss, umm, how should I put it.... extraction from a couple of our animals to help impregnate animals at a potential partner's facility. (the awe continues)
It was a busy conference, which fortunately included 2 field trips - one to Fort Edmonton and one to the Edmonton Valley Zoo. Thank goodness, or else I may not have ever had time to leave the mall! Honestly, it was really, really busy! The conference days were long, there were events in the evening, and in between I tried to keep up with the craziness going on at work. I barely even had time to shop! Sigh. (but not to worry, I managed a bit)
Walking through the WEM is like stepping back in time. I am pretty sure that nothing, except for the stores, has changed since I was a kid dreaming of going there. Awesome and cheesy. A pirate ship, an amusement park, a shooting gallery, an ice rink, a bingo/casino, aquariums, monkeys, and daily penguin/sea lion shows - and that is just the beginning! There is, of course, also the water park - water slides, wave pool, hot tub - yes, I went. Fun!
Aside from that, I got a brief glimpse of Fort Edmonton, which seemed nice. We were fortunate to get both a train ride and a hay ride in advance of a delicious dinner onsite. I also learned how to bale furs! The afternoon touring the animal exhibits at the WEM and the Valley Zoo proved to be interesting, educational, memorable and highlighted just how lucky we are at the Preserve.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Windsor
I have finally gotten to the point where I have to admit that I suck at blogging. I think about blogging all of the time, but I think two factors have been fighting me on it. One, I have simply been WAY too busy. Life has been insane and I am eagerly looking forward to November! Also, in some ways, things that used to inspire me to write - such as petting an animal or the scenery or my job - now seem to just prompt me to smile. But I will keep trying to plug away.
I was in Windsor recently, and in some ways it was a bit of a test. It was my first real visit back since my "going away" in April. I only had 72 hours in town, so I was determined to spend every waking hour with Emma, Kael, Owen and my siblings. In my mind, I have been fortunate to see both my parents this summer, and while I love my friends, its hard to talk on the phone to or facebook with the kids!
We had a great time! We played and played and played some more. We read stories and watched (strange to me) programs on tv and relaxed and caught up. It was awesome! Only for them do I get up the equivalent for me of 4am, 3:30 am and 5am....It was a great few days.
We also managed to condense our annual Christmas shopping weekend into one day. Mom, Erika, Owen and I went over to Detroit in what largely turned into a shopping for me trip, but we all got some great shopping done and I did start my Christmas shopping - honest, quite a bit actually. We also got a TERRIFIC lesson. Crossing back into Canada, Elisa and I inevitably got pulled over. It was inevitable after Elisa declared $700 worth of stuff. Sigh. Oh well. I offered to go in and pay, after all, Elisa had driven and I had already spent the last 45 minutes trying to feed Owen from the passenger seat. Great move on our part! I live in a territory where our only tax is GST, we don't have territorial sales tax and, apparently, that means I don't pay any crossing into Windsor. A $35 bill was it! Awesome!
Honestly, it was a great experience. I love hanging out with my siblings, I love hanging out with my niece and nephews (and of course I love my parents). Anyway, I miss them, I love them, but I was still excited to return to Whitehorse when it was time. (Admittedly, it would be another 5 days before I was heading there, via Edmonton, but it really does feel like home now). Having said that, the good bye nearly killed me. As we were leaving and I went to give Emma a hug, she said "but I don't want you to go. I love you too much. I miss you"
Best and worst feeling in the world. Sigh.
I was in Windsor recently, and in some ways it was a bit of a test. It was my first real visit back since my "going away" in April. I only had 72 hours in town, so I was determined to spend every waking hour with Emma, Kael, Owen and my siblings. In my mind, I have been fortunate to see both my parents this summer, and while I love my friends, its hard to talk on the phone to or facebook with the kids!
We had a great time! We played and played and played some more. We read stories and watched (strange to me) programs on tv and relaxed and caught up. It was awesome! Only for them do I get up the equivalent for me of 4am, 3:30 am and 5am....It was a great few days.
We also managed to condense our annual Christmas shopping weekend into one day. Mom, Erika, Owen and I went over to Detroit in what largely turned into a shopping for me trip, but we all got some great shopping done and I did start my Christmas shopping - honest, quite a bit actually. We also got a TERRIFIC lesson. Crossing back into Canada, Elisa and I inevitably got pulled over. It was inevitable after Elisa declared $700 worth of stuff. Sigh. Oh well. I offered to go in and pay, after all, Elisa had driven and I had already spent the last 45 minutes trying to feed Owen from the passenger seat. Great move on our part! I live in a territory where our only tax is GST, we don't have territorial sales tax and, apparently, that means I don't pay any crossing into Windsor. A $35 bill was it! Awesome!
Honestly, it was a great experience. I love hanging out with my siblings, I love hanging out with my niece and nephews (and of course I love my parents). Anyway, I miss them, I love them, but I was still excited to return to Whitehorse when it was time. (Admittedly, it would be another 5 days before I was heading there, via Edmonton, but it really does feel like home now). Having said that, the good bye nearly killed me. As we were leaving and I went to give Emma a hug, she said "but I don't want you to go. I love you too much. I miss you"
Best and worst feeling in the world. Sigh.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
New Beginnings
Yesterday I had the good fortune to witness an important milestone in Whitehorse and First Nations' history. At midday the much anticipated sod-turning ceremony for the new Kwanlin Dün Cultural Centre took place on the banks of the Yukon river at the foot of Black Street in downtown Whitehorse.In the Yukon, as in other parts of Canada, First Nations rely on oral histories to record and pass down their traditions from generation to generation. As such, being witness to an event intimately involves the observer in the act of cultural remembrance. For me, this ceremony was a unique opportunity to learn about First Nations traditions first hand.
Kwanlin Dün First Nation represents the indigenous peoples of Whitehorse, Chu Nínkwän (Yukon River) and the surrounding areas. Archeological evidence shows that the region has hosted seasonal hunting and fishing camps for more than 5,000 years. In the late 1800s and early 1900s the gold rush and the resulting massive influx of outsiders caused the Kwanlin Dün to be displaced from their traditional lands and way of life. In 2005, the Kwanlin Dün signed its Final Agreement with the Government of Canada and the Government of Yukon and thus overcame decades of hurdles to become the Yukon's 10th self-governing First Nation.
So it was under grey skies and in the light cool rain of a fall day in Whitehorse that the Kwanlin Dün proudly marked their return to the Yukon River. After all the requisite prayers, thanks and speeches were given, students from the Sundog Carving Retreat presented a traditional dugout canoe to the Kwanlin Dün First Nation in a special gifting ceremony. Under the guidance of Master Carver Wayne Price, a Tlingit artist from Haines, Alaska, these emerging young carvers spent 10 weeks on an Egg Island turning a 14,000 lb red cedar log from B.C. into a 30 ft long, 400 lb statement of cultural vitality. According to Mr. Price it is the first dugout canoe carved in the Yukon by First Nations people in over 150 years.
Due to the unusually fast current in the Yukon River, the Healing Canoe could not be paddled downstream to the site as planned but was instead, and perhaps more impressively, portaged over 100 m to the ceremony. First Peoples Performances/Dakká Kwáan Dancers dressed in full regalia (including my colleague Heather Callaghan), responded to the gift with traditional song and dance. It was a powerful moment for everyone present and a triumphant one for the young carvers that had put their blood, sweat and tears into the project. In 2012, when the cultural centre opens, the Healing Canoe will displayed in a glass canoe house by the river, symbolically reconnecting the Kwanlin Dün to their traditional territory.
Thanks to Nicola Pritchett for the photo.
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