The Yukon has fascinated me. I’ve waited to write about the Yukon Quest race because I just keep reading more and more about it, losing myself down a rabbit hole of myths, legends and impossible-sounding stories which turn out to be true. This is a race like no other: one thousand miles in bitter sub-zero temperatures following the route of the historic 1890s Klondike Gold Rush route between Fairbanks, Alaska
I didn’t know that walking in the snow made such a crunching sound until I moved to Canada. Like the wrong type of leaves, I guess we always got the wrong type of snow. So, when I left the warmth of my cosy Yukon cabin to explore, I walked the trails happily listening to the unexpected sound of the snow. I was staying at the Northern Lights Resort and Spa,
As I sailed backwards through the air, landing in an undignified heap in a snow drift, I can’t pretend for a second that I felt surprised. I knew I’d fall off my sled. I’d told the others, ‘If someone’s falling off, it’s me!’ And I really wasn’t being self-deprecating. So yes, there I was, with the snow in my face to prove it. Wearily, I propped myself up on my
One of the major draws of the Yukon is the possibility of seeing the Northern Lights. I’ve dreamed of watching the night sky dance with colour since I was a child. I had high hopes for this trip to Whitehorse; there were “elevated activity” signs on the aurora forecast site, the skies were clear and all the conditions seemed right. But nature is a fickle thing and it turns out
Transformative. That’s how a friend recently described the Yukon and I think she’s right. You get the first clue that things aren’t going to be business as normal at the airport gate. As I sat, checking my phone and sipping coffee, I realised that almost everyone around me was chatting to each other. Was it a group outing? No. It’s just one of those places where everyone seems to know
