Back to the frozen abyss

Deep winter, sunrise views along the Alaska Highway at the edge of Kluane National Park are some of my favourite views. Favourite, favourite views.

We were in and out of ice fog for a lot of the day, a lot of the drive. You can’t have the magic of a hoar frost covered landscape without the suffocatingly dense ice fog first.

This is the environment and the climate that I just can’t be without. It’s so beautiful it almost hurts the soul.

Making every second count

Seeing the first seconds of pink sunlight touch the peaks of the Kluane and St. Elias Mountains confirmed to me that setting out from Whitehorse deep, deep in blue hour was the exact right decision.

The days are among some of the shortest of the year now, and the beauty of Kluane extends further than perhaps any other time of the year. The forever low and golden sunlight emphasizes that. You know by now my obsession with light and ice.

Our entire day felt almost eerily quiet with very few passing vehicles. The forests felt predictably quiet - a few squirrels, a lone gray jay, and a grouse couple that, as ever, sent my heart into my throat with their chaotic helicopter takeoff hidden in a tree. Then, closing in on darkness, a herd of somewhere near 100 elk off both sides of the highway halted our plan of a late visit to a lake along the way back home in favour of taking our time loving on all our new furry friends.

These are the best days, the ones of magical light, majestic views, and of making every second count.

A love that almost hurts

The beauty sigh, heart racing, chest-so-full-it’s-going-to-explode kind of day

It was the early morning on a full day off after another very late aurora chase. I was exhausted again, or still, but I just had to go. I couldn’t stop myself. So with coffee and snacks, I was soon driving through snowfalls, sunshine, rain and gusty winds.

The forecast was a complete mess, of course, but it all just translated as ‘perfect’ to me.

Shoulder stops all the way to, and inside of Kluane, were more frequent than ever before. These were of course the most beautiful moments of my life so far, and I don’t know if I had ever known such a love and amazement in this world.

On the shore of Kluane Lake, clouds ate entire mountains, and minutes later instead of struggling to hold my hood up over my head against the wind, I could feel the warmth of the sun on my back.

I watched as over and over again, waves came crashing for the shore. The colours, and the patterns of colours all over the lake were unlike any way I had seen this place before. Even the glacial brown-grey of the water was stunningly beautiful. This was a quintessential raw northernness that fills me with the most amazing feeling of home.

A seasonal love that challenges winter

I never expected to feel a love come close to the one I have for winter. The -40°, longer twilight hours than daylight hours, quiet and frozen everything love, but once again, fall in the Yukon takes a healthy run at it.

This day in Kluane kept getting pushed back for hopes of ‘better’ weather later and later in the week. I’m not sure what I was really expecting to find in the ‘perfect’ weather forecast — maybe more assurance of clear sky — but whatever that perfection in my mind was may as well have just been exactly this.

“Sometimes I think if you wait for a perfection, you may never really find it.”

Every mountain peak was not always visible, but as a result, early, or maybe the first, snow had dusted mountain peaks. Low clouds sat in valleys and floated beautifully in front of mountains. Sand storms blew up in the valley and moved gracefully along to disappear. I couldn’t tell you how many times I remarked through the day how happy I was to have the weather we did.

Entire landscapes and mountain sides were painted with every shade of yellow and burnt orange. It was all a beauty that was far too much. Even with guests, I couldn’t help myself from pulling off the side of the road more than what’s probably reasonable. I hadn’t even left Kluane yet and I was already planning a return on my own.

And while I’m sure come December, I will, without question, be so in love with winter that it won’t even feel close to the overall love I have for the fall, this was just once again probably the most beautiful day I’ve ever lived. And I know, I know I feel it and I say it or write it out loud pretty much every time I’m out in nature here.

Beauty sighs

Sunrise today, on the 1st of December, is 10:42. The weeks ago of this trip into Kluane National Park was a much earlier morning. I left Whitehorse at the faintest hint of blue hour with temperatures deep into the -20s. The smell of warm coffee filled the inside of the car with the windows frozen shut, and ice crystals lining the top of the inside of the windshield.

Elk weren’t shy at the sides of the highway. Coyotes ran alongside the highway at times too. Any passing traffic was almost non-existent which prolonged the time just watching these beautiful animals from the car.

"There’s something about this cold, snowy, icy winter that just makes me so crazy. It’s like a connection deep down with my soul."

Closer and closer to Kluane, temperatures dropped to the lowest of -33°. Around every corner, a new mountain or new angle of the same mountains appeared more and more magical. Blue hour, then sunrise and golden hour all gave such magic that it felt like nothing had ever been so beautiful. I kept having these deep in the body, heavy sighs. Beauty sighs. It was just some kind of physical way, some kind of release, to deal with so much beauty and love. It was complete and total overwhelmingness.

On every trip into Kluane before, I always had this dream of being up with the mountain sheep, but they were always, always so high up on the mountain. But today finally, I could join them and watch them from what felt like so close.
Maybe they are not the most special wild animal, but observing any wild animal in their natural space is something which has to be so incredible.

After some time sitting out on the edge of the ice watching golden hour fade back into blue hour, and somewhere between numb fingers and the most sniffly nose ever, the ice starts to sing. At first just a few high pitched pings, and I snapped my body backward in the direction of the sound almost in disbelief. I couldn’t believe the perfection. Of course by now you know how much I love the singing ice, after my well documented obsession last winter. I just could not imagine any more perfect way to end such a day.