Lessons

Whitehorse is a town that has everything. Honest. For a town of its size, it is over-serviced and remarkably easy to live in.  But the lesson must be learned, if there is something you want, you gotta grab it, or do it. 

Ahh... we should have seen Star Trek last weekend. Or any day this week. With only 4 movie screens in town, we now know the big movies come, but they don't stay long. Lesson learned. 

Grocery stores are open late, in the case of the Superstore 10pm every night. Very convenient now that we are living in town. But Sunday nights, Mondays? Don't bother. Until the trucks come in choices in milk, meat and produce are limited. Lesson learned. 

Every day, gas prices range by more than 5 cents! Seriously, I pass about 5 stations on the way to work, and regularly and predictably prices are that far apart. Why would anyone go to the always pricey station? 

Canadian Tire has a national pricing strategy. Combined with no territorial tax, shopping there is a bargain. The liquor store is cheaper than off-sales with a lot more selection, but not as convenient in a pinch. The deli that I love, even though it is never open, carries terrific products at prices very comparable to Westboro, delish! Super A is a lovely store, but prices are MUCH higher than anywhere else and they carry things no one else does. Regular price for 2L of pop anywhere is at least $1.85!! Insurance is 40-50% less, a 5-year license is $50. Wonton soup is often sold only in double portions it is not, as I first thought, just an expensive $7. 

Whitehorse is funny like that. So many things are the same price as back East, so many things exhorbitantly more expensive and some are even significantly cheaper; it is highly unpredictable. The key is in knowing where to shop and when, which often involves being a bit organized -  or accepting the higher price and just being happy there is no sales tax. All in all I think it balances out, but the guessing game is fun!

Oh, and if you find something you like, buy it! It might not be there tomorrow, and it will likely never be in that store again. A very important lesson indeed!

A Bad Do

Yesterday I went for my first haircut in Whitehorse. New in town and trying to be frugal I decided to try the barber shop closest to my office. Fittingly it's called The Barber Shoppe. I never expected such an eye opening experience from such a seemingly benign place. Firstly, Murd, the owner, is a 60-something long-haired biker dude with a pot belly, a goatee and a full grey mullet. Now, to be fair, this look is not that unusual in Whitehorse so I dutifully took my seat in the chair.

After awkwardly stuffing barber's paper down my collar and covering me haphazardly with a cape, Murd asked me how I usually have my hair cut. I gave him the standard "clipped short on the sides, scissor cut longer on top" instructions that any barber in the world should be able to handle. Murd could not handle these instructions. Murd shakily and mercilessly mowed my head like a high school soccer field leaving what little hair I have on top over an inch longer on the left than the right. He decided to skip the front altogether (or forgot) and then proceeded to pull out a hose and vacuum my entire melon with a hidden shop vac tipped with a mangy old bristle brush. I assume the shop vac was meant to remove hair clippings and prevent them from ending up on my clothes and down my neck. It did neither.

Then, the straight razor. Normally I like having my neck finished with a straight razor but Murd's trembling put me in fear for my life. I think he was a bit nervous about his hands too because he took more time with the razor than he did cutting the rest of my head. A few tense minutes later the ordeal was over and I asked him how much I owed.
"Just $28", he said.
"Pardon?", says I, stunned, thinking it must be a joke on the cheechako.
"How much do you pay back in Ottawa", he asked.
"About $12", I said as I forked over the cash.
"Oh, well, see you next time", he said unapologetically.
"Unlikely", I thought to myself.

While butchering my hair, Murd had boasted that there was only one other barber in town, Fred up on 4th Ave. He was old and shaky, implying that I really shouldn't bother going there. Thinking he might be putting me on about the cost and the lack of options, I did a quick tour around the downtown core today and discovered that there are 3 other barber shops and about half a dozen salons. In fairness to Murd, Barber's II charges $24 for a men's cut, so he wasn't totally ripping me off.

I've never paid more than $15 at a barber shop (I once paid $9 in Windsor but that was almost as bad as my $28 cut) and I can't understand why hair cutting, of all things, is so expensive here. Next time, if old Fred at City Barber Shop is under $20 I'll take my chances.

Today is Chloe day

Today, is Chloe day. For that matter, a lot of this weekend is Chloe weekend.

True, I have to determine if we can get a permit to sell food first, drop off our cheque run, and then confirm some marketing opportunities in What's Up Yukon - and I still have to complete that Katimavik proposal by today.....

But from lunch 'til tonight and then again tomorrow overnight, it's me (and Mike). I'm pretty nervous about that whole thing, but excited too. Maria has showed me how to prepare the bottles and I've already fed her, I'm thinking the 'cleaning up' part will be somewhat more challenging than Maui, but I'm up for the job. Just another day at the office I say.

Maui smells

Maui smells. She smells really bad, and it isn't going to get better. 

Our house essentially backs onto woods, mountains and lakes. It is absolutely stunning. We get to meander through the trees, catch the views and frequently say hi to other dogs and dog owners. It is totally off -leash, and Maui LOVES it! She is so very happy there, she runs, she walks, she sniffs everything, she's really getting to know her way around and frequently tells us where we're going. 

But ever day, no matter how we get there, it ends up nothing more than a variation walk up the hill, down the hill and into the lake. Maui wades, she swims, she drinks 'til her heart's content and then we drag the sand and dirt from the trail back home.  

This seemed harmless (and scentless) when the lake was still frozen, but now that it has started warming up, she smells. We towel her down, make her eat outside, have her lay on a blanket inside all in vain. She's wet, she smells, she's cute and so happy!!

It's really not that bad. By tomorrow afternoon she'll be dry again. Just in time for her walk!

Chloe

A mixed blessing. 

I was at work very late last night. We were hosting Elaine Taylor, Minister of the Environment (and my largest funder) at the Preserve today and I was preparing. My office is also the board room. Anyone who knows me, and has seen me at the office, would understand just how long I might have been in at the office last night before I began stuffing files into the filing cabinet haphazardly, perhaps somewhat desperately. 

Just before 8, I was driving home when the call came. It was Maria, our vet, and she had just found out that we were getting a moose.  After Millie miscarried recently, we identified the need for a new female moose, and were about to embark on a hunt. While one of my Board members commented "moose usually walk themselves here," I can't believe it actually happened (metaphorically, of course). It is, a mixed blessing. We were so excited to get a moose, we kinda were crazy when she arrived and was a 'she!'

Anyway, we believe Chloe was born on Sunday in Haines Junction. She was seen in the townsite with her mom, but they were separated, seemingly by traffic on the Alaska Highway. Conservation Officers brought her to the forest to try and reconnect her to her mom, but they didn't bond.  They waited 24 hours, still no connection, and some grizzlies hovering, so Chloe was brought to the Preserve!

While the Conservation Officer and his wife were driving up (the Preserve is about 1.5 hours from Haines Junction), Mike and I went to Shoppers Drug Mart to buy Pedialyte and baby bottles. 

Lucky for us, Chloe fed from her mom before being separated. This is really important for the transfer of antibodies and for her knowing how to eat. Next, she had to 'imprint' on someone, and there is no better person than Maria. She is, truly, amazing with animals and Chloe like so many others before her is becoming extremely attached.  Maria is staying with her, or rather Chloe has taken over the bedroom off of Maria's office where Mike and I were living until recently.  We are so very lucky to have Maria, as just like a baby, Chloe will eat every 2-3 hours for days. 

Likely dehydrated, having been away from her mom for so long, Chloe was first fed Pedialyte every 3 hours. She moved to weak milk and, by tomorrow, full milk (special powder milk). First from a beer bottle with a large nipple (easiest to learn off of), then from a baby bottle, next a wine bottle with the large nipple - because she will only get hungrier and hungrier! 

Mike and I have both been fortunate enough to feed Chloe and to cuddle with her, however fleetingly. I think I'll be luck enough to have shifts most of this week, and then we'll be hunkering down on Friday night and Saturday to relieve Maria. 

So amazing. 

Riding the Hog

Ok, of all things, Mike's motorcycle can't really be called a "hog." 

Mike really, really, really wanted to go for a ride today, and it was such a beautiful day, who was I to argue?  It was that or housework. Guess what we decided. 

I don't think I had been on the Ducati more than twice last year, and certainly not for more than 20 minutes or so. Today's ride was significantly longer and my butt, thighs and back were a bit surprised by it all. 

The thing of it is, it was easy to ride for a really long time. Unlike Ottawa, where we mainly drove from Point A to Point B, typically along Hwy 417, the Alaska Highway is spectacular.  The sun, the mountains, the river valley - spectacular!!  And not to forget the local colour! 

Our drive started with our neighbourhood fox - the same fox that I'd seen running up our street with dinner in his mouth just last week. Mile after mile of beautiful scenery, and then a random drunk guy hitchhiking.  Not so surprising near town, but this was really far out. I'm thinking with all of the forwards/backwards/sideways action he was taking with each step, it must have taken him hours to get to where he was!  And then there were the 2 guys hunting from their pick up - VERY illegal, and the random horses at the side of the road not contained in any way. Not much further after that, we headed back through the crazy gusting wind.   

All around a very nice day! 

The Spree (or When the Bell Tolls)

Sometimes a bell is just a bell.  In the case of Friday night a bell means jugs of beer appear unbidden at your table.  Multiply that by three and you've got the makings of a classic old time Klondike spree.

According to Pierre Berton, in the heyday of the gold rush a prospector returning from the gold fields would lavishly spend his poke (gold find) in a five alarm booze-up, trashing bar after bar all the while buying rounds for everyone in the house.  To refuse the generosity of the spree or to leave a drink unfinished was considered a heinous insult to the buyer.

So, on Friday night, for reasons still unknown to us, a local patron invoked a fine gold rush tradition and vigourously rang the bell above the bar, sending a steady stream of Yukon Gold our way.  Loath to break with tradition, we toasted the man of the hour and floated away on a river of draft.

And thus, our dated night double feature of Wolverine and Star Trek was derailed (not due to a lack of interest as some have suggested).  Krista and I limped home in the eerie glow of the midnight sun, wallowing in the pain and satisfaction of having participated in a remnant of unique Klondike ritual.