City Slicker Bound for the Yukon Gold

My what a crazy life I lead. One minute I'm working in LA and the next minute I am working in Whitehorse, Yukon. Yes, you read that right. Whitehorse in the winter. What next?

Of course, it is film related work and I am ecstatic about this particular job, because industry work has been a bit sloooooow lately. So slow, I've been working in a completely different field just to keep my mind occupied. That is why I can't complain about the Yukon, no matter what the weather.

I arrive on a two hour Air Canada flight from Vancouver. That’s the equivalent of Van City to San Fran! To my surprise, it was surprisingly short. When you hear you are being sent to the North, you immediately think seven long hours with two grueling stops in-between, but this felt like a luxury first class trip to Los Angeles! Lucky me!

I step off the plane and frantically wonder what -24 C really means. You know what it means? You are going to freeze your pretty little yoga buns off. That’s what it means. So, naturally, I go outside. Smart.

I wait in the frigid air for a taxi, but there are none to be had. Apparently, there are only one or two flights a day to Whitehorse, so the taxis don’t bother coming around until those official times of arrival approach. Well…my flight was early, so do I wait outside? Ya, I do, because I want to be a “cool” Yukoner and brave the cold like the rest of them, until I look around and realize no one else is dumb enough to wait outside like me.

Finally, after about twenty minutes (I went inside, don’t worry) a taxi arrives. Yes A taxi. I bolt towards the lovely soft-faced looking driver who is wrapped warmly in a very similar jacket to the one I have on! Yeah! I look like a local. I am proud of myself.

I start talking to the lovely cherry cheeked fellow and decide to get straight to the goods.

“So, are you from the Yukon?” I ask.
“Nope, I’m from Tuktoyaktuk.” He says with a giant smile.
“Really?” I say shocked as a wrack my brain for any former knowledge I may have retained from my grade 5 social studies class…uh…twenty years ago. Where the heck is Tuktoy-what-what? I’ll look it up later.
“Yup. I passed through here twenty years ago, never heard of Whitehorse, and haven’t left since," he says with a grin. I betcha it has something to do with a woman.

Interesting.

I finally got to my hotel which, according to my cabbie, is a very shi shi upscale accommodation. I thanked my jolly friend for the ride and tipped him 30% (why not) and hopped outside. Frick, it is COLD!!!

The driver yells, “Traveling in style, eh?” Well, not exactly. The “best” hotel in the Yukon is charming, yes, but stylish? No. The lobby is clad in natural unstained wood with a quaint bar/restaurant attached to its left. The restaurant garners hunter green booths and wooden chairs with rose coverings. It feels very much like I walked into a Western. Paraphernalia of the Klondike Gold rush scatter the walls and hints of wealth emulate behind the smiling faces in the black and white photographs from the past. It must have been a glorious time back then.

The server approaches me, all smiles, almost as if she enjoys her job. Could it be? I order my toast and sip my coffee quietly as I wonder what this new town has to offer me. As I get ready to pay the bill, my server informs me that it has been taken care of. Do they think I’m a moviestar or something? Do I already have a Yukon admirer who wants to woo me with toast and coffee? No, people are just THAT friendly here. A new comer like me arrives in the dead of winter and they probably just feel sorry for me! “Oh, we’ll buy her toast. That’ll make that poor girl feel better.” Maybe I’m just a charity case.

I attend my meetings and I find out that this lovely government employee, whom I am working with all week, is actually a successful romance novelist! Have you ever met one? Apparently, romance resides in the Yukon. It does seem romantic here, though. The majestic mountains, the snow, the bars…just kidding. Really, though, the scenery is spectacular and what better way to spend the winter months than to snuggle up with your loved one in front of the roaring fire. Sigh. Whatever. I’m stuck in a hotel room with noisy neighbours. Wah. No romance for me.

I wake up the morning and head off on a road trip with my guide. He takes me to Fish Lake. It’s shaped like a fish (clever) and is not only frozen, but also covered in a thick blanket of snow. Overhead, a few ravens fly by and boy are they ever magical. Now I see why the natives treat them like their elders or spirit guides. When you look at these incredible creatures, you have to treat them as such.

As I gaze around at my 360 degree view of breathtaking scenery, I hear multiple dogs barking, almost as if a pack of wolves is approaching. I turn to my left and there are DOG MUSHERS!!!! My dream come true. I feel like I am in the middle of watching the Iditarod. Spectacular. I whip out my camera and take as many shots as possible. All smiles, I head back into the 4x4 truck and yammer away at my driver who is a Yukon local and probably thinks I’m nuts to be this excited about a bunch of Huskys pulling a nomad on a sled. Hey, it’s interesting and so different from my life I once lived working at a Hollywood studio. I’d take dog mushing over studio driving any day.

Then my toes start to seriously freeze. My boots aren’t warm enough. Go figure, city slicker! I ask the driver to “please take me back to my hotel so I can switch my boots.” Yup, a rookie move, but it is what it is. I’ve never experienced cold like this in my life, so I’ve got to give myself a break.

I hop out of the car, change my shoes, run back into the car and he drives us off to our next location. More mountains! I whip out my camera, but where is it? Honestly, with all of my layers, mittens hats etc. I can hardly move. I’m like that little brother in the movie “The Christmas Story” where he is so bundled up in his snow suit that he can’t even move. Ya, that’s me! I search and search, but no camera!! I realize, with all of my layers, I must have put it on my lap and when I stepped out of the car to change my boots, it probably fell out. Heart broken! All of my dog mushing photos gone! Such a rookie move. Lesson learned. You must learn to work with your parkas people. Learn to move with your mittens too. Someone should teach a class. I suppose it was a classic city slicker moment. ☹

In any case, yes, my day was ruined slightly from me losing my uber expensive camera, but tomorrow is a new day and I will prevail with sites to be seen and stories to be told.