We went south this week-end.
Warm temperatures, green grass, friendly locals and sunshine greeted us in the lovely small town of Haines, Alaska. It's not quite Mexico, but after a few days of strolling around town without a jacket with the sun beating down on my skin, I feel like I've had a bit of a respite from the long Yukon winter. Only 3 months to go!
Family self-portrait on the Taiya from our camping trip in Dyea, Alaska on the week-end.
I realized something important this past week-end. It was while we were enjoying our camping trip in Dyea (pronounced DIE-EE, good to know so you don't spent ten minutes embarrassing yourself in front of the customs agent at the US border). I was sitting in a camp chair on the Taiya river with my husband Rich writing in his journal beside me and my son Oscar merrily throwing sticks for our dog. It was one of those pure happy moments. It could have been in the movies as one of those slow motion happy montages about someone who just died or that touching scene just before a meteor hits the earth. It should have been a simple happy moment but there was a bittersweet element to it.
Oscar climbing a fallen tree on the bank of the Taiya river.
I should back up. If you've been reading this blog, you know how much I love the Yukon. I love the Yukon to the point where part of me thinks it's the obligation of the universe to keep me here. When I found out Rich had to go to Edmonton for four months for university, I've been giving the universe plenty of opportunities to do just that. I tried to get family to come out and help babysit Oscar during my crazy flight attendant hours, I hit up Air North for a 9-5 job in about five different departments (once even accosting the COO who was on a flight), I scoured YUWIN for other 9-5 job possibilities and I looked into getting an au pair or a nanny. My success rate has been approximately zero percent. It slowly began to dawn on me that with a three-year-old in daycare, a distinct lack of disposable cash and Richard's uni and bills to pay for, my pipe dream of a long and happy life in the Yukon is not likely. Hence my frostiness towards the universe lately.
So what should have been a pure happy moment was bittersweet because instead of enjoying the moment I was having, part of me was resenting the future moments I wouldn't have.
That's when I realized something important.
It was like the universe had enough of my self-indulgent mental whining and gave me a good invisible b**ch-slap.
Yes, the river was nice, and the mountains and the fresh air, but the happiness had less to do with the pretty scenery and more to do with the family I was with. I am one of those very lucky people who loves my husband, has a wonderful child and gets to be with them almost every day. We are in good health, we have a close and honest relationship and we laugh every day. Even my dog is great. She's not super bright and she could create a new dog with the amount of hair she sheds every day, but nice and gentle and great with Oscar.
Whether we are in the Yukon, or Edmonton or Timbuk Two, we will be together. That's what matters. Bitterness was replaced with gratefulness, the universe and I have mended fences and the rest of the trip was pure sweetness.
We stopped in Skagway for some halibut and ice cream on our way back to Whitehorse from Dyea.
The south Klondike Highway between Whitehorse and Skagway is one of the most picturesque road trips I've even taken.
on the Taiya River.
Oscar didn't miss his toys back home as he explored the forests and rivers.
We stayed at the Klondike Gold Rush National Historic Park. The camping is free from September to May and the sites are nice and private. Ours had a little path to the Taiya River.
on the Taiya river with no one around.
I love how he eats it so delicately but it still ends up all over his chin.
When I worked in the photo lab on cruise ships I used to roll my eyes every time I printed this touristy picture. Who knew one day I would take it!
This lake is called Emerald Lake, and even with a coating of ice over it, you can see why. Photo by Christa Galloway.
The drive from our house to Skagway is only about two hours on the Klondike Highway but it takes us through the Yukon, British Columbia and Alaska. There is also a surprising variety of landscape. We drove to Skagway this week-end for a Mother's Day camping trip. This time of year we saw everything from desert to icy emerald lakes to snow-covered misty mountain ranges.
The Carcross Desert is an interesting mix of evergreen trees and sandy desert, overlooked by mountains. Photo by Christa Galloway.
A welcome sign near the Alaska border on the Klondike Highway at White pass on the Coast Mountains. Photo by Christa Galloway.
The Mendenhall caves in Juneau, Alaska. One of the most memorable experiences of my life was exploring these caves of ice in the Mendenhall glacier. Photo by Christa Galloway.
Last night I dug through my photo archives. I'm lucky enough to have travelled and experienced many interesting places around the world while I worked on cruise ships. One of the reasons I was drawn to the Yukon was my connection to Alaska. Skagway was the port that most reminded me of home, and a great port for escaping ship life for a bit to go hiking Lower Dewey Lake. I had some of my most memorable experiences in Juneau, exploring the Mendenhall caves, hiking up Mount Roberts and of course. You can see more photos here.
Glacier ice and rock, forming the Mendenhall caves. Photo by Christa Galloway.
We drove in and out of clouds on the Klondike highway, on our way to Carcross. This was shot through the car window, by the time I got outside, the clouds and light had changed and the shot was gone. Photo by Christa Galloway.
We left for Skagway this morning, passports at the ready, keen to see one of our most frequently visited ports from cruise ship days and in good spirits. The light was beautiful as we drove in and out of the frozen fog. We stopped every few minutes to take photos.
The sun shining through trees on the Klondike Highway. Photo by Christa Galloway.
The mountains near Carcross, Yukon. Photo by Christa Galloway.
During one of our frequent stops we noticed a burning smell coming from the car. Rich did an excellent impression of someone who knows about cars and declared a coolant line had split. We were both tempted to take our chances and carry on to Skagway, but the thought of being stranded in an American port during the off-season did not appeal. We decided the sensible thing to do was to turn around, but since we were only a few miles from Carcross, we decided to go that far, at least.
If I'd half hoped we'd run into a random mechanic in Carcross who would merrily fix our car and we'd be on our way, I was destined to be disappointed. I'm not sure if it was because it was a Sunday, or because it was off-season, but Carcross seemed like a ghost town. The photographer in me was delighted by the spooky village and I rushed around taking photos, my footsteps, the only sounds.
Carcross at the White Pass and Yukon Railway bridge. Photo by Christa Galloway.
Carcross Visitor Information with a closed sign in the window and a spooky boat in the background.
This is the caribou statue at the entrance to the turn-off into Carcross. We passed by the turn-off on the first drive-by but decided to check it out on the way back. I've since noticed that the statue normally has a sign with a huge arrow underneath it, pointing to Carcross. I guess in the winter you need to either know where you are going, or be adventurous to find it. Photo by Christa Galloway.
After our self-guided tour of Carcross, we headed back home and I contented myself with taking pictures in our own backyard.
Next week-end, to Skagway!