Tales of the beautiful everyday from the North
“George from Toronto”
The sharing of secrets
Sylvia first emailed me a month ago. She and her partner William were coming to Whitehorse, and wanted to get engaged under the aurora. She was forward it wasn’t a secret or going to be a surprise, but they hoped for some beautiful photos. It felt beautiful and spoke right to my heart.
“…and I think after all of our research, you would be the best fit for our special night.”
Just a few days away from our aurora chase, I got a call from William. They were nervous about the continually changing weather forecasts and fickle nature of the aurora. He asked if I would be up for joining them on a helicopter instead - flight-seeing over the Yukon with a stop on a mountain where he could propose. And this was going to be a surprise to Sylvia. The problem, of course, was that Sylvia was in touch with me several times before and had been doing all her research. What if she recognized the way I spoke, or recognized my face.
After one final last minute change to avoid a snowstorm the day before, I arrived early at Capital Helicopters on a clear, calm -23° Sunday morning and after quietly checking in, I assumed my alias of George from Toronto; a tourist visiting for the week who was just happy to be able to get up on a last minute heli tour in good weather.
In a moment of pause just before I left my place, I realized I couldn’t wear my mukluks, insulated Canada Goose snow pants, or balaclava to protect my little frost bitten face. I needed to be slightly unprepared and definitely underdressed. Skinny jeans, clean hiking boots, and an unfortunately now trendy Fjällräven parka has to scream city boy from back east.
When Sylvia and William arrived at the office, I stood sheepishly staring at a massive wall map of the Yukon, deliberately disinterested in small talk or making new friends. I looked up, smiled shyly without really making eye contact, and buried my face back into my zipped up parka studying names of mountains and rivers on the wall 30cm from my nose.
Now on our way out to the ramp after our safety briefing, I introduced myself as George, from Toronto, who arrived on Thursday, was staying until Tuesday, and had never seen mountains like this in real life before.
It was perfect. I was absolutely glowing inside, and enjoying my well calculated social awkwardness far too much.
Sweeping through saddles of mountains, climbing up mountainsides, circling steaming waterfalls in rivers, this was I think the most beautiful I have ever experienced our planet. I was just beside myself. The aviation geek, the nature lover, the winter addict, the photographer, and the hopeless romantic who just loves love… My chest just couldn’t take it.
“No matter how prepared you think you are for this, I promise you, you aren’t.”
After our amazing pilot landed us in -28° at Rose Lake, teary eyes overtook us all and Sylvia, of course, said yes. And finally reaching in for hugs, I could share I wasn’t actually George, I was Sean from Whitehorse, who you’d been emailing with for weeks. The laughter and warmth that ensued was almost too much. We immediately had like a thousand stories to share and there just wasn’t enough time, or warmth.
“Stop I don't want to tear up before the plane.”
In a few goodbye texts on Monday morning just before they boarded their flight back south, there were some watery eyes on each side of the phone. Just a couple of guys having a genuinely soft moment.
Sometimes in life you just meet the perfect people, in the perfect place, at the perfect time, and this was every, every little bit of that.
From about 8,000ft here, above the left edge of the lake, very faintly in the distance, you’ll see Mount Logan - the tallest mountain in Canada at 5,959m.
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.
Drama in the alpine
The wind was gusting 50kmh just in the city, but my berry anxiety was more intense than my desire to stay cosy — of which there are few things I love more.
I did have a sinking feeling, though, that I was a week or two too late, but this was a day off and I just couldn’t not know for sure.
Lining the path up were bushes of both lingonberries and blueberries, but ripe berries definitely were scarce. The ridge wasn’t all that much better, but the 14+ kilometres of trail did allow for a litre or two of berries still to come home with me, and for several more handfuls to be eaten along the way.
Knowing this was more of a berry trip mission than a photography trip, I had temptations of leaving my photography things at home (what it must be like to not travel as a photographer), but those temptations were short lived.
What if there were caribou along the ridge, or moose, never mind just the autumn colours. So of course my photography bag came with me, and the colours everywhere were naturally maybe the most beautiful I had ever seen.
“This kind of power in nature is something I do love just as much as being cosy at home with a coffee.”
Distant mountain peaks were capped with fresh snow and the weather was overly dramatic. The winds hurt at times and made walking not easy. I was brushed with the mist of a heavy rain storm that narrowly missed my path. The mist felt amazing, but I kept a close eye for any sort of shelter if the storm moved closer over. And for the way home back down, the sun was mostly out in true Icelandic Yukon weather kind of fashion.
This kind of power in nature is something I do love just as much as being cosy at home with a coffee.
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.
The meandering drive back north
“Sometimes the absence of options leads to the best one of all.”
After our horizontal migration from Calgary to Kamloops, I think it was the evening before we were leaving to start our more leisurely drive back home and Stewart, BC wasn’t even really on our radar.
We were getting a little desperate at this point and had resorted to massive physical maps, like the ones from CAA. Where we wanted to end up around at the end of our first day driving back just felt like a dead zone. Smithers was too close and just about anything further north than that may as well have been an entirely additional day of driving. Hotels were sparse and our ability to make a decision was even more rare.
Then we circled back to Stewart on the map, and sure it was a little bit out of the way, but after reading rumours of glacier views from the highway and bears basically outnumbering humans, we found a charming hotel with crooked, creaky floors and amazing views and booked it.
That was probably my favourite decision from the entire trip.
On the highway in, the winds were wildly strong but the air so warm and sweet. We travelled right through golden hour, and you can only imagine how breathtaking that light was cast over the mountain peaks towering up from either side of the highway. We did see bears, as promised, and as much as I wanted to spend the rest of the little remaining daylight sitting in front of glaciers, we resigned ourselves to tea and treats in our cosy little room at the Bayview Hotel.
Our final couple days on the road were spent soaking in and soaking up Northern BC. Every time we passed the Liard Hot Springs, we spent some hours there, again dreaming of returning in the middle of winter. We found cosy accommodation in Muncho Lake Provincial Park, and wandered around the mountains and the most teal lakes I’ve ever seen. By the time we parked back home, we had done 6,141.4 kilometres in a week and a half and were ready to do it again in a heartbeat.
