Category Archives: First Person

Tundra

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We made it to the tundra. We drove into Tombstone and went through the transition and passed the tree line and then it was tundra. Amazing.

We stopped at Two Moose Lake. Our daughter decided to pull out the ultralight camp
stove and make coffee for everyone. The Tundra Barista. It was a little magical. We saw no moose, but we were there, feeling the strange slanted light, overlooking a lovely lake that no doubt attracts many moose, and just BEING there.

The world gets increasingly elemental here, that is, boiled down to its elements. And life wants to thrive. I think that’s what I find most inspiring about the north—how plants always find the nook or cranny to grow in. How the rose hips give a little pop of colour or the fireweed, even when it is spent.

I feel like that.

The kids left this morning. We had such a good time. An epic family trip for the ages. I’m so grateful I’m alive to do it. Rob and I still have two or three weeks before we are home. It will be great, but it won’t be the same without them.

Two Moose Lake in Tombstone

Barista Kate, Moose Lake

Tundra

Kluane Magic

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Kluane National Park is magical. The light is stark, slant, and ever-changing. The lakes are glacial, blue and more blue and green with refracted glacial silt, and unbelievably cold to jump in.

In the old days, I would have gone on day long monster hikes. Now I go on a few shortish hikes here and there, happy when my heart and one-and-a-half lungs can get me places.

I’m amazed that I’m alive, I’m here, and I’m doing these things. I’m grateful to be here with my family, the in laws and the outlaws.

Pictures are worth a thousand words. Here are a few.

We made swag!
Kluane LakeFishing on Kathleen LakeMount Logan (I think?) whatever it is, it’s beautiful! Glacier flowing

A Hyphen Moment

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Climate news around the world is hard to bear. The fires are making their own weather now. Closer to home, parts of the city of Spokane are on fire. Meanwhile, we are in the Yukon. I feel like we are in a dream.

The Yukon River is high this year, the result of a cold winter and big snowpack. Out fishing the other day, it was hard to find the main channel within all the shallow water. We saw eagles and beaver. We fished into the long twilight.

There is no normal, not really, but there is a scale of easy to difficult to impossible. We are on the easy end of the scale now while much of the rest of the world is in the difficult to impossible.

This time is a gift. The kids (all grown ups, to be clear) arrived yesterday. We are all together, camping by a glorious creek, delighted by the antics of squirrels and other forest creatures. The air is crisp, cool, and clean. The twilight lasts for hours. Nights are luxuriously cold.

And my awareness of this time as interstitial is constant. I’m the only one awake right now. I have noted more than once in my writing about how we humans are rarely aware of when something is happening for the last time. Life changes in the instant. I know this as well as anyone. I don’t know if this is the last time we will experience our lives like this, but I’m going to appreciate it like it is. We are living what I call a “hyphen” moment. We are in between. I’m grateful. Here’s a photo of twilight on the Yukon River.

Personal Hygiene in the Wilderness

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Do I dare broach the topic of personal hygiene in the wilderness? I think I will.

Showers are few and far between these days. What this means is a small basin of tepid water, a washcloth, and “top and tail” as my mother-in-law says. Basically a sponge bath.

How much exposure you’re willing to have depends on many factors, privacy being the most obvious. But there are also the mosquitos to consider. You want to be quick if you’re outside. I’m lucky to have the tiny trailer.

Why not jump in a lake? Or a river? Well, that’s always possible. But, again, the privacy situation has to be right if you want to skinny dip and the water here is very cold.

And what if you’re menstruating? I don’t have to worry about that any more, thank the Goddess. But I was once on this five day hike through the Purcell Wilderness Conservancy when my period started. In those days, I used a Diva cup. With all the animals around it was important to dig a deep enough hole to bury the blood. It is a total hassle and I had to use some of my very precious water to rinse the cup. Did I have to? I FELT like I did. So yes. Anyway. Menstruation kicks everything up a notch when it comes to hygiene in the wilderness.

So called “beauty” routines are gone. I realized today I hadn’t moisturized in more than a week. I mostly remember sun screen.

Today was the day I looked down at my cracked fingertips and rough fingernails and sighed. I found a little salve in my bag. That helped.

I go nowhere without my pocket-sized hand sanitizer.

Flossing is taking a beating, but I always brush my teeth.

But all of this is temporary for me and freely chosen. I think about how people displaced by war and disaster feel. The simple luxury of being clean is easily taken for granted and easily lost.

Lastly, the toughest thing is hair, and I don’t even have much hair to worry about. Hair gets bad pretty fast between the sweaty hikes and bug spray and sleep bumps. Bandanas and hats help. But I’ve got two words for anyone who is going to be unable to wash hair for a while: dry shampoo. It works. I used to use it in the hospital too. Over a few days it builds up and you can kind of sculpt your hair into place. If I’ve got big, good hair in the wilderness, you know it’s the dry shampoo.

As for clothes, there’s a lot of sniffing and shrugging these days. I shake clothes out. Good enough. Campfires are wonderful but the smell sure lasts. Maybe that’s a good thing.

My friend Val calls this gradual drift away from one’s usual standards of cleanliness “getting bushed.” Hard as it is to get used to, if I’m out for long enough, I always find getting un-bushed the hardest part of returning to my regular life.

Yukon River

Big Changes/Little Notes on the road to the Yukon

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Another WiFi opportunity will not be wasted here on the way to the Yukon. We’ve crossed over two important markers on the way north:

1. We’ve left the forests of hemlock and Douglas fir and cedar and crossed over into the more open forests of black and white spruce and aspen. It’s a big change. These forests support moose and caribou and LOTS of bears.

2) we have moved from the Pacific watershed to the Arctic watershed. All water flows to the Arctic ocean now.

We really wanted to go to the Grand Canyon of the Stikine, another huge river we hardly know about. BUT, we didn’t think the little trailer could take the trip on that rough, steep road. 18 to 20 percent grades. Ouch. Wise to avoid, I think.

It’s colder. We saw an excellent glacier. Bear glacier. And there is more sunlight. We are too late in the year for midnight sun, but there’s not much darkness anymore.

We are out of fire danger for now and having our first campfire. It’s primal. Humans evolved around the fire. There’s nothing else like it. Give us something flickering, even a candle, and we are hooked.

Noticed: there are not many generators going in the campgrounds, but there are lots of solar panels. Our rig has solar panels and they work great. We always have enough power, but then again, we don’t use much in our tiny trailer.

Next update at the next wifi.

Bear Glacier near Stewart