Tales of the beautiful everyday from the North
One more step
One more second of watching water flow beneath clear ice. One more minute of waves breaking against a frozen shore. One more step out further down the fjord, just to see how the view changes around the next small curve or what beautiful frozen pool is maybe still ahead. I just didn’t want this time to end, I didn’t want to go.
The small waves don’t do justice to the brutal wind whistling down the beach. The kind of wind that makes you tuck your face into the collar of your jacket with your hood up. The kind that makes you walk onward with your head down to try to protect your face in place of there being any other reprieve.
"It was extraordinarily painful and beautiful at the same time. It’s what I love so much about winter and what I can never can let go of."
Sips of hot coffee
These moments seemed to bring a more full sensory awareness. Sipping coffee left time to just admire the light, the reflections, and all the textures of the ice. The sound of the wind at one angle was deafening against my hood, but at another I could hear it’s gentleness and power in the trees. All of this just seemed to prolong a kind of perfection. It felt like time could have just stopped, but of course the orange sunlight climbed up the mountains and the blue gradients became more intense.
I still never wanted to just turn back for the car. It was too beautiful. Every magical moment of water crashing up over the ice at the shore, or new clouds passing rapidly by catching final rays of the sun, or that harsh sensation of the sharp wind on my skin. It was extraordinarily painful and beautiful at the same time. It’s what I love so much about winter and what I can never can let go of.
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.
The magic valley revival
Thousands of kilometres away now, but the little magic valley in Yellowknife meant a lot to me. For years, it was a retreat in both daylight and under the stars. It was a quiet, cosy valley I could just hide away in. It reminded me of Norway, as much as Yellowknife could, and I think that was an important recharge for me.
"I think that was an important recharge for me."
On the last morning of showings for my then-home, and subsequently the day I sold it, I spent some hours there in this magical winter light. It’s still one of my best memories.
And then, more than half a year later, I stumble into my very own magic valley here. It was all the comfort, security, and nostalgia of Yellowknife, but Norway too, just even more special.
On this afternoon, I couldn’t stop watching in amazement of the shadows playing on the mountain sides. Chasing the light and the water up the valley just yielded more and more absolutely surreal beauty. Every moment needed another photograph. And how the light moved up to the peaks of the mountain ridges until it was all finally gone was just so beautiful. It was slow but still so fast.
Just so
Checking in on the auroral conditions a little later that night after dinner revealed far too perfect of an opportunity, despite being so exhausted, to stay home.
There was really just one choice of course, and it was to back track south once again to the magic valley. It was in so many ways just what I had been dreaming of for years. And now it gets to be my every day. That is magic.
The Long Road
Decorating blind, again
Now sitting in Scotiabank’s my little apartment, I have owned exactly 2 homes in my 35 years. Both of them I bought sight unseen, from several thousand kilometres away. So wandering the showrooms and marketplace at IKEA, and burning my fingertips on my phone screen from spending so much time in their app, to furnish a place I hadn’t actually seen, wasn’t new or particularly surprising. It was in a way my bliss, and I loved every second of it.
Finding space for all of that love and bliss in a little Ford Escape wasn’t the most straight forward task. I knew in a worst case scenario, I could just ship up a few boxes and that wouldn’t be the end of the world. But I didn’t need to save any space for anything, it didn’t matter how ridiculous the inside of my car looked. There aren’t any prizes for unused space, so I may as well just try to take it all. I unpacked individual IKEA items to save on space and weight. I stuffed clothes into lampshades. I padded the back window with pillows to keep a floor mirror and ceiling track light from going through it on acceleration and bumps. Plants were boxed up in bunches and stacked. It was the culmination of nearly a decade of playing tetris with suitcases at YVR.
A few highways bumps made me bite my lip hard and turn my head back at my porcelain bathroom sink, as if I could see it, wondering if I had just rendered it useless. But thankfully not. Not that I was ever driving very fast anyway. I had litres per hundred records to set.
"There aren't any prizes for unused space, so I may as well just try to take it all."
Beauty anxiety and cosy nights
Long drives soothe me. They aren’t a chore, they’ve never felt like a thorn in my side or something I just needed to get over with. They’re one of the best parts of life, and in my dream car, going up through one of the most beautiful places in the world, it was something I was more than ready to enjoy every second of. I just wish there were more McDonald’s for their baked apple pies and black coffee.
So more than 9 weeks behind schedule, it was finally departure day for the Yukon after a multiple-time extended summer in BC. Hotels were booked, cancelled, and re-booked. It was a running joke in my mum’s house that every conversation we had about how my apartment is coming along in Whitehorse, the year of completion got exponentially more ridiculous.
"Don't you go falling in love with my ZZ plant now, because I'm taking it with me when I leave here in 2054."
But now I was staring down another 2,200 kilometres, a distance I’d been used to doing straight through. I would this time spread it out over 3 days. 8 hour drives easily became 14 hour days between coffee breaks, emergency photo stops, drone launches, and deep breaths in the sweet forest air.
The weather changed often and dramatically. Golden hour light took my breath away, touching the very tops of trees or peaks of mountains. Blue hour felt never ending and never more beautiful. It was the best of summer, every moment of it. The beauty was almost too much for my chest.
What's good isn't only happy
April 14 at last, -23°
Ethiopian one last time for dinner because there could be no better ending than that. Back home, it felt like forever laying on my back. Just staring at my ceiling, but I eventually fell asleep on my old sofa. The northern lights still danced outside every window. The serenade was of course perfect too.
A restless night ended to low, orange sunlight pouring in the windows. I made a small, spacey walk around the house running my fingers along random walls. I held back tears for all of about 4 seconds inside my long idling car, and finally pulled away for the last time, looking back more times than I can remember.
