She traveled with me two years ago to sojourn through the amazing Yukon. She came now to visit me living in this incredible place with the man she introduced me to, I want to say "all those years ago." I know, though, that it wasn't that long ago but it feels like just ages. Is that a bad thing that, on the two year anniversary of my moving to be here with Shea, it feels like we've lived lifetimes together? We laugh nervously when we consider that question...
But Anne came back this Spring Break for a week of Yukon adventuring and yet again it proved to be a marvelous time. She helped make my birthday one of the best ever, she added focus and grace and wit to any occasion we hauled her into (Man, that girl is clever - she constantly floored Shea and I with her snappy lines and quick deductions).
I've been going through the photo's that she left on my computer to post them here. It's kind of interesting to see the things she recorded that now I don't see as worthy of photographing. Maybe half of the pictures I'll post today are Anne's, half are Shea's. On request, I've not included any of the naked ones.
Now this one is to show you all, who don't otherwise know, what cross-country skiing usually entails. When I mention the "tracks," Isa, I mean those grooves Anne is skiing in here. They track them by pulling a weight behind a ski-doo. We pay to join a club that is called Mount Mac and they maintain the trails that we ski on regularly. I ski there a couple of times a week, Shea less so as he prefers "the pass" which is up in the mountains and more suited to downhill or kite-skiing enthusiasts. Mount Mac is five minutes from my house and has hundreds of kilometres of beautiful trails like this. The tracks make it easier to ski but getting the right technique is such a blimmin art that, my ski teacher encouragingly reminds me, it takes up to 10, 000 hours to perfect. I'm at 250 hours.
These are from ski-jouring the other day. One the left is Jane, our host, hacking up bits of frozen fish to feed the dogs. On the right is the trailer they use to transport the dogs when they go somewhere for a sled race. If the dogs were all in one space they'd fight to the death.
Now, the big expedition during Anne's visit was an adventure out to the Granite Lake Cabin (yes, the same one I wrote of previously) and then on to the Haines Pass; think big coastal mountains that separate coastal Alaska with interior Yukon. If you can't picture it, look it up in the atlas and look at the mountains between Haines, Alaksa and Haines Junction, Yukon. Forgive me if some of the photo's look the same as a previous post; it's just so damn gorgeous out there you can't help but take a wealth of images.
Your intrepid Aussie narrator, "waxing up" her skis before the 15km trek into the cabin. We're overlooking Kathleen Lake in the distance there. We ski in the opposite direction, kind of behind where Anne, the photographer is standing. I'm using Skye's skis. She is Shea's sister, a bit taller than me and thus the skis are a bit big for my use. They're wider and heavier than my usual Mt. Mac skis which is important when doing such 'back-country' trips. You need bigger skis to plough through the snow as here there are no tracks. I'm pretty sure that what I write now is true, I really should get Shea to edit these posts for me...
This is on the way to Haines Junction from Whitehorse. Shea owns land looking out onto those mountains...just breathtaking.
We stopped on the drive to look at a lynx we spotted on the side of the road. He/she just sat there, even after Anne ran at it; yelled at it. You should look up Lynx on the internet - they're really quite beautiful creatures.
Anne (a self-portrait) and myself (an Anne-portrait). The tree's behind her are eerie looking spruce. The sign behind me says Kluane Park, a national park that makes up one of the worlds largest protected areas. I think it may have something to do with the vast inhospitable nature of its ice-fields.
Shea and I back at Granite Lake. This time we had two friends with us and a rest day between the ski-in and the ski-out. Anne and our Yukon mate Bill Willoughby joined us on this trip.
Here we are, Bill and I supporting Shea in this unusual pose. I had mixed feelings during the taking of this picture; pride that I could stand upright on skis while also supporting a crazy guy from my shoulder; anticipation that Anne could set the camera and ski into place in time (we'd tried me as the photographer and I was totally missing every shot) and bamboozlement that Shea would pose like that. No-one else seemed to find it unusual so I conclude that it is a Canadian thing - try to pose with your skis in the air while supported by others....
Bill Willoughby orgering (sp?) a hole in the ice. He has an orger which I guess I could best liken to a cork screw. In the same way that I deftly unscrew a cork from a bottle of delectable red wine, Bill Willoughby orgers through the three foot thick ice until he reaches water. From that hole we drew our water (much faster than melting snow) and Bill would later fish while Anne, Shea and I went for a leisurely day ski down the lake.
Below you see Anne and I collecting the water; we use the jug to dip into the hole and then pour into the blue jug. It doesn't take too long at all...carrying it up the hill to the cabin probably took me longer.
During the aforementioned leisurely ski. Shea led us up this hill into these dicey rocks. My memory reminds me that at this point, our rest/turn-around spot, I was madly going through the scenario's of how we were going to get DOWN the hill. Despite being quite nervous (I was wishing that water bottle was full of Scotch right here) I have to say that I look bloody good. That's mostly why I included this picture; I'm just so chuffed at how professional and hardcore I look. Isn't editing your own story just bliss?!?!
While we were out skiing. Bill Willoughby was busy fishing for dinner - with great success I must add. He also lit the sauna fire, cleared the stoop, shovelled the fire pit and generally acted as a most courteous homesteader.
Below you see Anne cleaning the homesteader's fish and then the finished product (pre-cooking) with the wine we enjoyed while partaking of the fresh delicacy (no boiled beer this time).
The fish are fresh lake trout.
You'll need to ask Bill for more info.
Bill is pulling a funny face here as he's saying something with a fake French accent.
These fish fed us through a delicious gourmet dinner and then served as appetizers the following night. To keep: simply throw outside into the snow where they will remain frozen until next required.
Anne wryly noted that it was an interesting experience to dispose of the fish guts/heads etc. down the same hole we draw our water from. Apparently it all just vanishes and clears out so the water we continue to draw remains fish free.
Strange but true.
Sunset at Granite Lake. This was post-ski/fishing day. Post sauna and pre-fresh fish dinner. Ah, bliss.
Skiing out of Granite Lake, Anne surprised me by "layering down" to her pink dress. It had been hidden beneath her jackets and jumpers. It's the same dress we bought when we were traveling in the Yukon together 'all those years ago.' Shea had taken us to the tiniest thrift shop in the middle of nowhere. We all found some gems there. Anne has also been photographed changing a tire in this same dress on that previous trip.
The ladies skiing out together. While we must tip our hat to Anne's wearing of a dress on such an occasion, can we also note my extreme colour matching ensemble? All red and black, even down to the colour of the pulk and the bags on that sled. I bring a certain sophistication to the scene.
Waiting for Anne and Bill Willoughby to bring the car; Shea and I had followed slowly across the last lake with all the gear and pulks (sleds). I'm trying to stay warm here, having taken off my sweat soaked socks and ski boots and putting on the down jacket (Chrissie present from Shea) and dry socks and mukluks (the shoes I'm wearing that are made from moose-hide).
Now we're skiing at "the pass." I get so confused about all the types of skiing we can do. There is backcountry, touring, downhill, telemarking, touring turns, just plain touring, cross-country tracked, cross-country-backcountry....I guess I feel like Shea must feel when he goes into a coffee shop on Darby Street and tries to order a coffee.
We've just spent the night at another cabin high up in the coastal mountains. We spent a few hours the next day skiing through the wind and drifts before driving back to Whitehorse.
There's a lot more snow at the pass than there is in Whitehorse (due to elevation).
Bill, Anne and myself at the "Stellar Cabin" at the pass. Isn't it made of the thickest timbers? It's hunkered down in the snow to withstand the huge snowstorms and avalanches that occur quite frequently in this area.
I'll take you there when you come to visit.
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