Spell of the Yukon

North: 63-35'30.0"
(150 miles South of the Arctic Circle)
West: 35-54'08.9"
(150 miles East of the Alaskan Border)

Four hundred people spend their lives in this sleepy little arctic village in the middle of nowhere and at the end of the road.
Situated at the junction of two major river systems, this remote village seems to epitomize the essence of true Yukon living.

To be considered a Yukon resident one must have made the Territory their principal residence for at least twelve months and be physically present within the Territroy for six.
With Yukon Territory being my principal residence for the past eighteen months (though without any one fixed address and seven of which were spent elsewhere - mostly South America), I've recently been granted a Territorial Hunting Lisence (exclusive to residents), and I'm pretty happy about that.
Every Yukoner is entitled to one Moose per year and may purchase Big Game Seals for everything from Caribou, Bison and Grizzly Bear (ranging from $5-$50); and although those options remain open, I've brought only a small rifle with me this time and am restricted to small game like Ruffed Grouse, Ptarmagin and Snowshoe Hare - which is perfect and all I am really interested in at the moment.

I like to spend days wandering about the countryside and following the myriad of surrounding rivers and game-trails. Hunting is like fly-fishing in the sense that you're often alone and in the midst of some of the most breathtaking scenery the world has to offer - free of all preoccupation but the sense of being a part of your surroundings - snowy arctic evergreen, frozen lakes and rivers, and the snow covered mountains insulating the quiet landscape rolling out as far as the eye can see.. and farther.
Snow has a way of making everything quieter while allowing to hear the slightest of sounds with acute clarity and awareness - like the stiff, sharp crack of lake ice splitting apart or the sudden thud of snow falling from a branch.

You can sit on a hillside and have a smoke, setting your backpack and rifle down beside you while scanning the clearing below for movement or fresh tracks in the snow.. There are dozens of old tracks - fox, rabbit, various birds - and if you're lucky you'll stumble upon the trail of a moose or wandering bear. It is late in the season for bear, and many have already settled down for their long winter sleep, but - to be sure - there are still a few restless ones, too stubborn to settle, wandering about. A big old male Grizzly was spotted on a hillside not far from here last week. They're incredibly impressive to see in the wild and my hope is to again see one this year - though at a distance.
So you finish your smoke and hoist your gear and wander down the hillside in a given direction.. It doesn't really matter what direction, because you're without direction.

I like the nature of hunting of only for the complete absence of daily preoccupations - much like fly-fishing or sports in that regard. I always found my best casting days were those days free of all distraction. A complete concentration on the motions of your body and your surrounding environment. Most atheletes can relate to that sense of being 'in the zone', and in some ways I find it much the same.

With my constuction project completed, I gave my notice at the Pub, packed my gear and through a series of rides made my way ten hours drive north - to see miss Angela.

As a Remote Outpost Nurse, this tiny northern village has been her posting for the past few months and she seems to like it here. In such a remarkably short time Angie has become extremely well-known in nearly all of these remote Territorial communities for her outstanding medical ability and amazing care, exclusive to the rare and unique nature of a woman surely born to be a Nurse. It doesn't amaze me at all how in such a short time she has become such a valuable asset to Yukon Territory Health Care and I am really proud of her.

Within a week or two we'll be heading Southward. Ang will go on ahead by air while I spend a few days travelling by land - down into Southern British Columbia and Vancouver then over to the Island.
The longer I stay in the North the more it feels like home. I am comfortable here and I havn't any doubt that this part of the world will be a part of my migratory path throughout the years...
For now, the plan is to spend a few months on the island trying out different locations, taking some courses and spending some time with my family over the holidays (a rarity over the past five years).
Northwest Territories is being considered for the new year and I've also been researching Habitat for Humanity - an International aid organization focused on building community and low-cost housing in third world countries.

That's all from the North - See ya on the Island!



Joseph Sieben




The Spell of the Yukon
I wanted the gold, and I sought it;
I scrabbled and mucked like a slave.
Was it famine or scurvy, I fought it;
I hurled my youth into a grave.
I wanted the gold, and I got it --
Came out with a fortune last fall, --
Yet somehow life's not what I thought it,
And somehow the gold isn't all.

No! There's the land. (Have you seen it?)
It's the cussedest land that I know,
From the big, dizzy mountains that screen it
To the deep, deathlike valleys below.
Some say God was tired when He made it;
Some say it's a fine land to shun;
Maybe; but there's some as would trade

Mount Hildane

it
For no land on earth -- and I'm one.

You come to get rich (damned good reason);
You feel like an exile at first;
You hate it like hell for a season,
And then you are worse than the worst.
It grips you like some kinds of sinning;
It twists you from foe to a friend;
It seems it's been since the beginning;
It seems it will be to the end.

I've stood in some mighty-mouthed hollow
That's plumb-full of hush to the brim;
I've watched the big, husky sun wallow
In crimson and gold, and grow dim,
Till the moon set the pearly peaks gleaming,
And the stars tumbled out, neck and crop;
And I've thought that I surely was dreaming,
With the peace o' the world piled on top.

The summer -- no sweeter was ever;
The sunshiny woods all athrill;
The grayling aleap in the river,
The bighorn asleep on the hill.
The strong life that never knows harness;
The wilds where the caribou call;
The freshness, the freedom, the farness --
O God! how I'm stuck on it all.

The winter! the brightness that blinds you,
The white land locked tight

Stewart River

as a drum,
The cold fear that follows and finds you,
The silence that bludgeons you dumb.
The snows that are older than history,
The woods where the weird shadows slant;
The stillness, the moonlight, the mystery,
I've bade 'em good-by -- but I can't.

There's a land where the mountains are nameless,
And the rivers all run God knows where;
There are lives that are erring and aimless,
And deaths that just hang by a hair;
There are hardships that nobody reckons;
There are valleys unpeopled and still;
There's a land -- oh, it beckons and beckons,
And I want to go back -- and I will.

They're making my money diminish;
I'm sick of the taste of champagne.
Thank God! when I'm skinned to a finish
I'll pike to the Yukon again.
I'll fight -- and you bet it's no sham-fight;
It's hell! -- but I've been there before;
And it's better than this by a damsite --
So me for the Yukon once more.

There's gold, and it's haunting and haunting;
It's luring me on as of old;
Yet it isn't the gold that I'm wanting
So much as just finding the gold.

Minto Lake
Ang and I, on the way out to Minto Lake and in search of fowl

It's the great, big, broad land 'way up yonder,
It's the forests where silence has lease;
It's the beauty that thrills me with wonder,
It's the stillness that fills me with peace.

(Robert Service - 1874-1958)

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