Part 5 Life in Whitehorse

When I arrived in Whitehorse I spent a very enjoyable weekend with old friends and former Yukon Archives colleagues Lesley and Jonathan. Twenty years ago they were young and I wasn't yet old and so we got along quite well in the workplace and outside in social settings like croquette, relay running team, racquetball, pubbing, dining and attending parties. I remember well the dating start to their romance. I believe the tipping point was the round of Jimmy Cliff shooters, No. 122 on the posted list of 135 at the Capital Hotel. This was quickly followed by three kids and a mortgage so readers just take that under advisement when ordering a beverage in WHSE. But in truth they are three lovely children and it is a very comfortable house in a city that would be the envy of most Canadians if word ever gets out about it. So let's just keep this between us ok. I don't want to be responsible for causing the next stampede to the Yukon.





Over the weekend and several meal conversations we covered a lot of ground and with three other active participants the discussions were much more diverse than might otherwise have been. Will, Ella and Joe are bright, engaging kids up on latest happenings in town. Work is a short walk up the Trans-Canada Trail so Lesley and I take a hike after Sunday dinner to have a look around, check e-mail and no I was never tempted to check out the old LAC account. I just want to re-acquaint myself with a building I never worked in but saw being constructed and visited several times over the years. There was a very brief discussion of work to be done but the details would be revealed Monday, my first day on the job.





Three kids to get ready for school and Lesley handling it solo, Jonathan headed off to Ottawa, of all places, for a training session, left at the crack of dawn although these days that is around 4:00 a.m., I decided to stay in bed and wait for the dust to clear in bathrooms and kitchen. Speaking of bed I have been granted the privilege of sleeping in Joe's bedroom, thanks for giving it up buddy, you are a generous fellow. I particularly enjoy the giant paper machete goldfish that hangs from the ceiling and moves with any breeze. It is the dog days of school but still exams are on for the high schoolers. Once things quiet down I venture out shower, breakfast and then drive the short distance to the Archives. I have to get paperwork filled out today so I thought bring the car would be easier. The sky is the brightest blue imaginable. There really isn't any air pollution to speak of, ok there are some cars and an bump in the population of old farts but since we are not ruminants therefore have less effect than cattle. Ok except after fajitas, refried beans and beer night. The clarity of the air means the scenery and vistas stand out as if specially lighted by a Hollywood movie crew. To be honest, the big sky is a big reason I love this place. While Westerners in general can claim big sky as well, for me it is also a combination of things scattered about on the planet's surface that give the light something to work with. No offence Saskatchewan but landscape diversity works. Maybe you should consider it, that's all I'm saying.


Upon entering the doors of the Yukon Archives, in a heightened state of excitement and somewhat nervous, I am introduced to the staff on site. Since Mondays are closed to the public there wasn't the full contingent on hand but still a goodly number of people for a small organization. I have my first official meeting with Ian, and Lesley to go over the contract, and sign it. We went over more details about the projects. It does seem ironic that my number one priority is to process and describe an accession of old Records Office files which have languished in the backlog since the mid-80's, meaning that the stuff was here during my first tour of duty and I never got around to it. Then again the half dozen successor Government Records archivists didn't get it off the backlog either. So proof positive that archives does make it last longer, even backlogs. The good news is that there's interesting stuff in the files and it is material I am familiar with.





Of course what kind of archival meeting would not be replete without a session of good old archival gossip, a universal sustenance. As interesting as that subject was Ian had to leave since he had another meeting about to begin. Lesley and I finished up and as we were leaving the meeting room I looked outside and saw none other that Rob Ingram and Helene Dobrowolsky walking past the window. These are old friends and two of the most prolific historical researchers in the territory. I meet them at the main door and introduce myself as the new YA "greeter" a la Wall Mart. Once the hugs and handshakes subsided we had a nice chat and made plans to get together soon.

Back to work. I had more orientation and met a few more staff members and found it reassuring that a number of people dated back to my first go around at YA twenty years ago. Additional proof of the archives and making things last, although I have to be careful with that one since Peggy, YA Librarian would beg to differ. Time to actually start doing something useful. I begin with reading some memos and going through procedures on line all in the aid of informing me about how to tackle my first project.



And then, in a moment, everything changes. I was told that I had a phone message from Caryn and that I was to call my sister Brenda. When I spoke with her she told me that Mom was slipping fast and would not make it through another day. Various organs were just simply shutting down after 97 years of work. She was resting comfortably however, under medical assistance. I had a premonition of sorts when I had my last visit with her before the trip started that it could well be our last face to face conversation. Still the news was like a kick to the gut. I tried to make plans, to figure out what to do. I actually tried to go back to reading material but to no avail. I took a trip downtown to register for my YTG security pass, then to Workers Compensation to get coverage for my one employee company and then over to the city office to acquire my business license. After completing those tasks I decided to head over to the airport to see what options were available. There was a possibility on getting out this evening or waiting until tomorrow and word from Ottawa. I went back to the Archives and sat around in a state of shock. I talked to Lesley and she said, "just go home." So we booked a ticket on-line and I flew out to Vancouver at 8:00 p.m., changed in Toronto and arrived in Ottawa at 10:45. Caryn picked me up and I went home had a quick shower, made a sandwich and headed over to the Seniors residence in Kanata. Unfortunately Mom passed away about the time I landed. My brother and sister were with her at the end and said it was very peaceful.




This photo was taken on one of her last outings, a trip to the War Museum.

Mom always had a great sense of humour, she was forever laughing about something or other. I took this little movie on St. Patrick's Day. Her mother emigrated from Ireland in 1906 and Mom remained more Irish than the Irish all her life. Her dad was of Scottish and English descent hence the story Brenda was relating to her about who of the two parents really mattered on St. Patty's Day. She was wearing the hat I provided with great price once she found out the "orange" didn't represent those northren Irish.

Episode 4 and

Day 13 June 6

The day starts with a fine breakfast in the Lodge restaurant. One of the features of the place is the array of hats stuck to the ceilings and the walls everywhere. Reminds me of a cottage we rented a few years ago which had similar decor. In this case the official tally is now up to 6735 hats! No, I didn't contribute one.

tip o the cap to Toad River

The morning is cool and crisp, perfect for my last day on the road. I wonder if my luck with wildlife spotting will continue. Ummm the answer is a resounding yes, these guys are were half a kilometre down the road, then the mule deer, a young elk, three more sheep and then... but we'll get to that later.

Salt seeking sheep

The scenery is spectacular as the snow capped mountain illustrates. Mountain creeks and rivers swollen by the snow melt as temperatures are unseasonably warm.

Muncho Lake strikes me as a particularly beautiful spot in the morning light. I am enthralled by the combination of sky, water, mountains and snow. This is the North that fuels my desire to return to this area.

Muncho Lake, B.C.

And then the bison appeared.

There have been signs warning motorists to be on the lookout for these magnificent animals. As if on cue I see something ahead, a brown hump at the side of the road, then another and another and a 4,th 5th, 6th ,7th, 8th!!! I guess they really are a herd animal! They eat the grasses along the verge or lie down, completely relaxed. I take a number of photos but they all look pretty much the same. I continue past the concentration in almost disbelief and then round a corner and three more stand very close to the road. I pass them without touching the camera. On I go, less than two kms and there are two trucks parked on the shoulder. They are firefighters taking a break. What is extraordinary is that one guy is standing beside the cab and not more than ten feet away is a huge bull and he is gesturing towards it! The bison ignores the men and simply enjoys its own meal break. Beyond them is a herd of seven or eight more cows and calves. I slow but do not stop, worrying that the least disturbance might add more risk to a risky situation.

Bison and lots of them...

Fire!

As I approach Liard there are visible signs of fire. The forest is blackened on one side of the road, then a bit further on both sides of the road have been touched by the fire. A short distance beyond that trees are still smouldering and there is a sign man indicated that I should stop. He explains that a pilot truck is on its way to guide vehicles through the next area because of the ongoing concern over flare ups. It would be about a twenty minutes wait while it does the circuit. I strike up a conversation and find that the man's family home is Haines Junction in Yukon. He is Southern Tuchone now living in Ft. Nelson. I mention the incredible amount of wildlife I have seen and he thinks the fire has moved animals south. He says the fires were pretty intense, surprisingly so for this early in the year. The truck appears and off I go, feeling better about having a radio in the convoy.

Once clear of the fire area there is still a significant amount of smoke in the air. So much so that it obscures the mountains for a while. Eventually it dissipates and I am in the Yukon, able to see it in all its glory. The mountains and lakes are more familiar as I spent more time in these parts. I feel the anticipation of viewing Whitehorse rising at the end of this long trek.

Now entering forest fire area, still some smoldering going on

there is a mountain in here, honest.

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I am finally here and I feel a great elation in completing my journey. I am also viewing a place which captured my heart many years ago and that feeling is still there.

This is it though not its best side but you get a sense of Whitehorse nestled in the valley, the Yukon River weaving through. It is the view I see every day on the way to work.

Since my hosts Lesley and Jonathan are supposed to be canoeing, I have time to... give yourselves a pat on your back those of you who guessed... go to the public library... (and then the liquor/beer store). Not just to use the internet but to also look around my old workplace as the Archives had been part of this building. It seems an appropriate starting point on my nostalgia tour. I am scheduled to have internet time in fifteen minutes so I wander through the stacks, check out the Northern Section and stand in awe of the gigantic stone fireplace in the middle of the reading area. Ah my time is starting. I contact as many family and friends broadcasting the news of my arrival, not quite conquering Everest on a solo climb but still its something I feel is a notable accomplishment.

The next part of the blog will be an update on what has changed, what stays the same in the Yukon.

Here are some snapshots of the best bits to be seen along the Klondike Highway between Whitehorse and Skagway.

Tutshi Lake

Bove Island, my favorite spot.

Alpine vegetation clinging to a very inhospitable environment

A very unique landscape past Fraser, B.C.

Mountains of the White Pass

Just a small bush on a pathway to work. It seems as though the leaves have started an enormous tattoo project. I don't see any piercings though. I'm going to guess snail tracks but I will need to conduct some research before offering the answer.

[Editor's Note: Thanks to Rob Ingram, Yukon resident and noted amateur mothologist for this clarification. "The “snail tracks” on the aspen leaf are actually the burrowing caterpillar of the Leaf Miner moth. This spring, they were so thick in the air they looked like late snow. "So there you have it. An even better source on the bug and the blog's second footnote, happy times! http://www.gi.alaska.edu/ScienceForum/ASF17/1753.html ]

OK, let me present a bit of entertainment provided by Pumpkin, one of the three cats under my charge at my first house sitting job. First night there I was getting ready for bed and as I entered the bathroom to brush my teeth, there was Pumpkin standing front paws in the basin. I studied this for a moment and then thought what the heck and turned the water on. Here is what happened next.

Stay tuned for further developments.

Episode 3 - this time we do get to the Alaska Highway

Remarkable the timing of my arrival at the motel in Lloydminster, just minutes before the start of the broadcast of Game #1 of the Stanley Cup Finals. Ah, Don and Ron, a cold one in hand and finals hockey. This has to be Canada eh. A Detroit victory, not unexpected.







Day 7 May 31






Last night I called the Mills' family in St Albert to warn them of my impending arrival today. David is still in Ontario enjoying the Learneds and as I soon discover a whole lot of golf. David and Janice are old friends from early days in Ottawa and neighbours in the Glebe. The drive through Alberta is enjoyable as the morning is sunny and bright though there is a cool breeze blowing. Janice has plans to plant a couple of flower beds today so I should be there in time to help. I get to Edmonton and call to fine tune directions and arrive in time to get dirty in the planting operation. We worked for a while until most of the flats were distributed and then we went in for lunch and a good long chat. It covers the gap of the many years which have passed in our respective lives, kids, careers, etc. Mid afternoon now and friends, the Voiseys come over to wish Janice a happy birthday delivering card and gift. We spent a rousing few hours of conversation over drinks. Topics range from life in Edmonton, Ottawa, and various national parks as we shared experiences. They take their leave and we decide to bbq dinner. It was another chance to talk especially about my recent decisions and activities. Janice generously agreed to watch some of the second game of the SCF since she has a goalie for a husband and is accustomed to the lure of playoffs. WOW huge screen, hi def too! Alas not a great game especially for Pittsburgh. Looks like a Detroit sweep.





Day 8 June 1




Janice has to work today so I have the place to myself. A stack of morning papers - four dailies - yes I know its all about the research David! That took up a good part of the morning, then laundry, a trip to the driving range, bought some wine and groceries for a good meal which I was happy to prepare as part of my rent. I spent some time in the sunshine reading my book which I am finding fascinating, The Book of Negroes, by Laurence Hill. All in all a nice battery recharging day after a number of days on the road and almost half way to my destination. Dinner... pork loin, rice, broccoli and Caesar salad. David flew in just in time for leftovers. We have a grand re-union going over old and new news. We work out a plan for the next day which, of course, includes golf. I call Brian Corbett to see if he would be interested in joining our group. Oh and I have to explain that I have the rocks, ready for delivery. Jerry O'Brien had tasked me with a special request, to deliver two ocean worn beach stones from their trip to the Magdalen Islands a couple of years ago. It is a long story and I don't expect to stay in the rock import-export business so please send all future requests for a detailed explanation or to order more rocks contact Jerry directly. After a few calls back and forth we filled out our foursome with a friend Brian has invited.



Day 9 June 2



In another of those classic coincidence moments it turns out that Rod Macleod, professor at U of Alberta, (actively researching and writing a biography on Sam Steele,) was on the board that hired David into the History department. Brian Corbett was half of the two man board, the other was Peter Gillis, that hired me to my first contract at Public Archives of Canada in 1977. We had a great day on the links, save for the scores, but everyone enjoyed the sunshine, the kibitzing and reminiscences generated lots of laughter. Oh yes and we end with a cold one on the deck of the Indian Lakes golf course. Left to right - me, Brian, Rod and David.



In the evening an exchange of e-mails establishes that Patti Anderson is in Edmonton attending the ARMA conference. I call her and we arrange to meet for dinner tomorrow, Wednesday.

Day 10, June 3

Got directions from David and make my way into downtown Edmonton from St Albert. Patti has already headed over to the restaurant from her hotel so I drive through the rush hour traffic and arrive a bit late. It's an Italian place on, appropriately, Whyte Ave with a sunny patio at the back. Patti has ordered an appetizer but we set some sort of record for the amount of time between receiving menus and finally placing an order. We are too busy chatting to concern ourselves with food. We cover a long list of items since it has been a while since we had an opportunity. We worked together for many years and were important cogs on softball and golf teams, Unfortunately neither sport really needs cogs but we were ready if called upon. Patti seems a bit miffed at how happy I appear, too happy is her complaint, you know that almost smug kind of happy, what with all the retirement and engagement stuff going on. I explain that the idea of the retirement party proposal is partly her inspiration. Patti and her beau John decided to tie the knot back a few months ago although she did not seem to be a big fan of marriage. So that caused an "ah ha" moment for me which started the process rolling. A good four hours later we have had our fill of food and beverage but could have gone on talking til who knows when. It's time to leave. I manage to get someone to take a commemorative photo of the event just before Patti mounts up and bikes back to the hotel. I would say an ideal night but there is one minor flaw, the bar a few doors down appears to be a favourite of motorcycle club members and there is a constant parade of very large, noisy bikes to-ing and fro-ing down the back lane to Philthy McNasty's, how appropriate. Ah we manage to talk over the grumbling engines anyway.

Got back to the Mills homestead, Janice has already gone to bed... work the next day. David is watching several concerts of famous bands from the 60's and 70's still hard at it these days. Boomer Rock. Enjoyable never the less. It is good to have a chance to talk over those days, and in an equally nostalgic touch he produced, no not a joint, rather a photo album with snap shots from lo those many years ago when we played Sunday Morning Softball with a group of friends and colleagues, there were camping excursions, trips to Henry's cottage and different parties. All before children arrived for most of the people pictured there. Ah the good old days. The last few images were from the time the Mills, including their two young kids, came to Whitehorse when we lived there in the late 1980's. How appropriate to see images of my destination.

Day 11 June 4

This is it the last big push from Edmonton to Whitehorse along the legendary Alaska Highway. It is a leisurely start, unfortunately Janice is gone already by the time I get up so I leave a note of thanks for her hospitality taking in a travel weary fellow, providing shelter and sustenance. It has been a very enjoyable stay both for the level of comfort and catching up with old friends. I tell David we'll have to keep up the pace, every 15 years or so we'll get together. We say our farewells and I capture the inspired t-shirt he has on for blog purposes. It's a rec hockey team logo with a back story. E-mail David for details.

I am actually looking forward to getting behind the wheel after so much time off. It is cool and cloudy, perfect for a long haul up the highway. The first part of the trip is dominated by farms the next part has oil rigs dotting the country-side, eventually entering the boreal forest. Soon there are signs of wildlife as I catch a glimpse of a coyote on the prowl. I stop and to my surprise the car doesn't seem to both him at all. He looks, listens and then pounces trying to catch mice or voles. My efforts to get an action shot were so so. Whenever I had the camera ready in movie mode he would stop. After a few minutes I would take a break and then he would jump around like a rubber ball.

The game of coyote and mouse looked like it was an all day event and I have places to go and so I did. Next stop, after a fairly long day was Dawson Creek, B.C. and no Elizabeth, it is not that Dawson's Creek, it might have been a more interesting tv series if it had been shot here, though. Found a place that looks ok, get a room and haul my stuff in. Wouldn't you know its game 4 of the SCF, what remarkable timing. Hey not only that but there is an NBA Finals game on as well. What a great country we live in, cable and satellite feed. Hey Pittsburg won, now it is a series again.

Day 12 June 5

That was a good night's rest, often a challenge with time change and increasing light levels. I am up early because I want to see if I can chew up a lot of the 1400 kms left so that I can get to Whitehorse at a good time on Saturday. Pack up, a quick bowl of cereal and I'm ready to go. As I leave Dawson Creek I think I should replenish my post card supply and something from around this area would be different. I keep an eye out for a suitable place to stop once it gets a little later. As I come upon Taylor, B.C, population 1400 I notice a Tourist Information Centre, housed in a nice log cabin. I pull in to check it out and get some cards. I try the door but not open yet. Then a notice on the door grabs my attention. "Alaska Highway Closed Between Fort Nelson and Watson Lake Due to Forest Fires" Now this is something I had not factored into the trip. Mechanical problems, maybe some bad weather but not fires this early in the year. There wasn't much to do except wait so I took the opportunity to look at the outdoors exhibition of historical information and artifacts beside the cabin. Apparently the cabin was built in 1938 then bought much later and donated to the town by a kindly benefactor.

As I was reading the plaques a car pulled up and a lady emerged from the passenger side carrying a box. She apologized saying that the center should be open by now but she was a little late, she had picked up donuts from another event held yesterday. Did I want to come inside and have coffee and a donut. Western hospitality, why not, but I should skip the donut, empty calories. Sometimes I try. The driver of the car a younger man came in as well. The building was chilly inside as it is not heated when not staffed. She set about turning the heat on, pulling the coffee maker out and setting up the donuts. "Sorry they are day olds but do have one." I declined and asked about the fire situation. She asked her son, who was back in town for a visit and he said the last he heard the highway was still closed. Once she heard my dilemma she started on a non-stop dialogue, extolling the virtues of the tourist attractions in and around Taylor. She listed hikes and scenic points of interest gathering steam as she began to warm up. She listed a few places where I could stay all the while pushing the donuts. I declined the donut but took a cup of the instant decaf and was grateful to have something hot in my hands. The son seemed to sense my predicament and asked if it would help if he checked on line for the latest update. Yes, yes please! The Highway site stated that it was still closed. He gave me the contact number to try later on and then suggested that there was a golf course just up the road and they served a good breakfast at reasonable prices, in fact they were just there earlier. Sounded fine to me but I was still having some difficulty disengaging from the Mom who continues to pile up brochures and maps, sounding a bit hurt by my refusal of the donut and a second cup of the coffee. She extracted some information from me... home, destination, reason for going and then surmised that with my interest in history I "really must check out the Alaska Highway Museum." I tried to politely explain that I had a fair knowledge of the highway's history having been responsible for records of one the federal departments involved, and I had presented at a conference on that very topic in Whitehorse some years ago. Big, big mistake. I should have just said uh huh and left when I had the chance. Now I was led over to the shelf containing the library devoted to local history with a small subsection devoted to the Highway. She said maybe my work was there among the other authors. I explained that my presentation wasn't published. She wanted to know why... "Was it not good enough?" Now I was being interrogated. Why hadn't I taken the donut, then none of this would have happened! I would have tried to come up with a defence if I could only remember why it wasn't published. I don't think anything out of the conference was. Oh well. Anyway I decided that the golf course offered the best plan of retreat. As I bade goodbye and headed for the door she made one last effort at passing out a donut, ah no thanks, and I made my break for it.

A short distance down the road I came upon the largest golf ball I have ever seen. I deduced I was close. Sorry no picture, I was too awe-struck to remember I had a camera. Just a bit further along was the Lone Wolf golf club, The Pride of the Peace, Mile 36 on the World Famous Alaska Highway. All right, history that serves up breakfast. I find a table in the near empty dining area. Service is quick and pleasant. I order and ask about fire knowledge here. One of the staff is unaware and the other says yes the highway has been closed for a while. Coffee was good so was the juice and I had time to write some post cards, oh yes I did manage to come away with some cards while suffering through the inquisition. The Weather channel was on the TV so I had half an ear on it. No mention of the highway situation although there was a story about fires in central B.C. Typical, was the response of the server, they never talk about the North unless it is something really big. As I ate and wrote, the weather outside was actually improving. it had been drizzling but was clearing up. A thought entered my brain, I'm at a golf course, I have nowhere to go for a while, I have clubs in the trunk. A plan started to form. I walked over to the pro shop side of the building and asked if there was an opening. No one booked for the next half hour, yeehaw. Oh but the dress code, I was wearing jeans, the person at the cash responded to my question with the following phrase, "phffffffff." I took that as the local term for "whatever."

Out to the car, clubs, shoes, ready to go. Off to the first tee. I began with my rigorous pre-game routine, stretch left, one right, try to find my toes ah there they are, now I am ready. A quick look at the hole layout on the tee box map, develop a strategy, water all along the left so keep it middle right. Ball on the tee, practice swing, address the ball, waggle, waggle, whoosh.... Splash! Oh well, moved on down the fairway and find the ball in the shallow water; ball retriever, extraction, drop it and gather necessary data to inform my next shot. Second shot about 185 yards over water and with a cross breeze. Trusty 5 wood deposits my second shot onto the green a mere 8 feet from the pin. I decide that a mulligan is fully in order given the trauma of the fire, the cool, damp conditions, the lack of proper warm-up, etc. Still two putted. Not that I am going to provide a shot by shot account of the game, although I could post the card, ah, no, but I did want to mention that after hitting my drive on the second hole I saw another single finishing up at #1 so I waited to see if he wanted to join me. Dillon turned out to be a young man of some golf talent and good company. As well he had local knowledge and much better vision than mine so he found several of my wayward shots I would never have located otherwise. Though he was slow talking we did manage to warm up to each other and he was soon offering up interesting historical facts about the town, its industries and his own background. He is a goalie and hopes to make the pros. On top of that he is a very good golfer playing the round at par. I was just happy to improve upon the game in Edmonton. As we finished we shook hands and wished each other well.

I found out where the local post office was and set off to buy stamps and mail the postcards. As I finished I saw that the Visitor Centre was directly across the road so I crossed over with the number for Highway Information in hand. As I got out of the car I saw the lady from this morning. She was with another staff member but recognized me and came over immediately. I asked if I could use the phone, certainly. I showed her the number, she said it was long distance, I said fine I have a calling card. As I was punching in the dozens of numbers required to make the call she first offered me that last donut and then said non-chalantly, "the Highway is open again." I stopped dialing. "Opened up shortly after you left were here this morning." I thanked her and made for the door. She insisted that before I leave I needed to have a look at the archives held by the centre. It was a series of photo copied clippings about the Highway. I said they were a fine collection, very helpful to visitors especially as they were arranged thematically. She seemed pleased with that so I bid her goodbye and beat it before the donut came up again.

I drove to Fort Nelson where I decided to eat an early dinner and then try to make it as far as possible that evening. The last portion of the drive from Summit Lake to Toad River Lodge is an incredible experience. First off the fantastic scenery as the elevations increased and the snow capped mountains start to appear. Add to that the unbelievable amount of wild life I encounter in such a short distance. I literally see more animals in one hundred kms than I had in an entire summer in the Yukon. Let's see, three black bears, a dozen mule deer, two moose, two herds of Dall sheep totalling over twenty animals. Apparently the road salt is one of the big attractions this time of year making for a tasty treat after a long winter.

The day ends when I pull into theToad River Lodge. There are vacancies in the motel and cabins but no one was on duty in the office. The hand written note on the door explained the drill. "Please enter and take any room with the door open. Register and pay in the morning." Now I recall why I enjoy this region so much! A place to stay, a day's travel from my objective, life is good.

Episode 2 More Dief and Roads to Resources... the Alaska highway

Still Day 5 but later on...


I am only five days into my cross Canada adventure but I have decided to get off the normal north by northwest path from Ottawa to Whitehorse, my diagonal trip cross country, so as to indulge in one of my life's interests John George Diefenbaker.



Day 5 May 30
This will be a fun day, chance to just be a tourist as opposed to, at times, feeling like a long haul trucker. I head due north of Saskatoon towards Prince Albert. However there is a point of interest before that. Batoche is the last battle site in the 1885 Riel Rebellion and now a National Historic Site. This was a critical moment in Canadian history, not so much the actual outcome on the battlefield as there was never any doubt about who would be victorious. It was the reverberations throughout the country in terms of how the decision concerning Riel and the other leaders of the rebellion would be handled. In the end it was decided that a rope was the best justice and that has had consequences felt til this day. You can look it up,it has googleability. I have a wonderful day at the site, touring the museum in virtual solitude. there are some very good displays especially the diorama of a Metis buffalo hunt. It brought back memories of the Museum of Natural History, when I was a small child, looking at the diorama of the wolf pack attacking the bison. Quite dramatic. I tour the site at my leisure, once again it is me the buildings and land and western sky. Oh and two staff members drive by in their atv. They stop beside me while I read the plaques, they are fixing something and ask if I had questions. "Not so much but thanks for asking." They finish up and drive off. I stroll back towards the church and surprise a guide who is reading a novel on a bench outside the building. She sees me, looks a bit sheepish but asks if I have seen the inside of the church. I accept her offer of a tour. She is quite thorough and informative and as we talk and I tell her of my federal government archival background she adds other tid bits to the presentation. I feel the history of the place come alive and I am happy to have been some small part of the process, a part of the team that made it our business to preserve history for all Canadians to enjoy. It is good to see the work being done so well.

Off to Prince Albert with a stop for an roadside attraction. Wheat stalks 15 metres high! A local



visitor centre uses this eye catching work of art to attract passers-by to their location,and very effectively I might add.











As I drive I listen to Stuart McLean on CBC as he does his oh so familiar shtick but I have to admit to the comforting feeling it gives you to know that there is a nation wide broadcaster spreading the same corny humour everywhere in this land. Maybe I can send him a bad pun and it will be heard coast to coast to coast, a collective national groan! My greatest legacy, the Cristo of pun art. That's it I'll wrap the Parliament Buildings in Red Tape! Nah too many forms, too much bureaucracy. Something simpler perhaps along the lines of the lines of the John Prine lyrics in Please Don't Bury Me... "Give My Knees to the Needy!" Ok maybe not, perhaps a work in progress.


So why Dief, what's up with that? Glad you asked. I have had a curious affinity for this western populist political that goes back years. I am on my way to visit his home, where he lived from 1947 on when he wasn't in Ottawa. These early years especially were spent in the political wilderness, losing five elections in a row. Yet he persisted and eventually won the leadership of the Progressive Conservative Party and then went on to win the greatest majority ever recorded in Canadian electoral history. Now that's a comeback. The home, there it is below, quite striking, even Rockcliffesque in its grandeur.


















My interest began very early in life as my parents were enthusiastic supporters of a fellow who was just a few generations away from the pejorative term DP or Dispossessed Persons that was used in a not so complimentary fashion for people from war torn regions in Europe who came to Canada as a refuge after the Second World War. Yet his vision and power of oratory influenced many non- traditional Tory voters to accept this westerner's view point. After this early inculcation, I was only five and six when he won his greatest victories, there were numerous intersections in our lives. Not quite like the story of Dief, the young paper boy meeting then Prime Minister Wilfred Laurier at the PA train station and after having a brief chat, the precocious Dief broke off the conversation by telling the PM that he had to go, he had papers to deliver. For me there was the mock election campaign held in my grade six class, held parallel to the federal election. I played Dief to Phil Convey's Pearson. Dief and I both lost but at least I did not have to face the humiliation of being pelted by tomatos throwing youngsters in, of all places, Arnprior! I have it on good authority, I was there, that it was the sons of the local Liberal candidate who became a bit too partisan in their political discourse. From there to an address by Dief to my grade eight class as we met the old political war horse in the old Railway Committee Room. It was memorable for another reason as on the same day one, the opening of Parliament, Paul Joseph Chartier an unemployed construction worker, attempted to blow up the House of Commons but instead blew himself up in the men's washroom of the Centre Block on May 18, 1966. Something to be said for developing bladder control. Also handy on a cross Canada drive but perhaps too much information. Both events, the speech and the explosion, made indelible impressions on my memory. Some years later the Chief gave a speech to the graduates of Arnprior and District High School. I was only in Grade 12 but able to attend as a junior matriculation graduate. He gave a good presentation and did not seem wary of either tomato or bomb tossers. The ultimate connection came about part way through my career at Public Archives of Canada I was hired on contract to work on processing the Diefenbaker Papers. That turned into a contract with the University of Saskatchewan but working at my same desk in Ottawa. Finally I won a competition and became the Head of the Diefenbaker Project in 1981.













































Managed to score a present for my parents, a signed photo by Dief just prior to his death in August 1979, with a personalized greeting to them. They were thrilled. A few years after Dief died, I moved on to what I always felt was my ideal job, archivist for the Canadian North. But there is still something that lingers and connects me with this important figure in Canadian history. That's why I am here and touring his home, filled with so many familiar mementos including Sir John A. Macdonald's couch and bed. Lots of nostalgia and memories.


Ok done with Dief and now I am driving around PA. It is a tired looking town. The other superficial impression is that it has a very young, First Nations population, especially in the burbs, and nobody pays attention to traffic rules. I like rules myself, they help me sort out where I am and how I should react but it is chaos as people just step off the sidewalk and head across to the other side on a whim. Ones, two, entire families just strolling across streets. Oh well vive la difference. Time for me to move on... in so many ways. Hey its a blog, its not all deep.

Speaking of blogs, this is a new experience for me. I have kept a journal from time to time, at one point I even maintained a diary but I found it pretty dull so I couldn't fathom anyone else being interested in its contents. I threw it out. I do recall one diary I came across at the archives, it was maintained faithfully by an individual who lived well into his eighties and the majority of entries were concerning the weather. Well it is a very nice sunny day today but I don't think I should fill up a blog with weather observations, there are highly trained professionals who do that for us. Maybe what I can pass along are some of the thousands of thoughts that cascade through my head, no not just the battle between my brain and my right foot, stop or at least slow down once in a while, or the constant monitoring of bladder level, I am also processing a constant stream (bad choice of words) of scenery, highway signage, historic plaques, the roadside kitsch while also filtering through 57 years of memories. Ok to be honest the first three of four years are kind of sparse but nonetheless there is a lot of stuff there to chose from. So this damned blog business, a promissory note to family and friends who want to be kept informed about my adventures, as if I was a lunar module, with constant updates on the hour. There is the small problem of lack of technical support along with the time commitment of driving 5700 kms. So what I try to do is write as much as I can each night and someday hope to transcribe that into the blog technology. Then there is the pressure of what to say to people, should I remind Caryn to water the lawn and the indoor plants, what about the ex-twonie poolsters who expect wit usually distilled into a snappy two paragraph blurb. Then there is the expected updates on the psychological adjustments of leaving the public sector and becoming a contractor to the public sector. Radical change that. Ah but I am still processing the retirement party and all of the good vibrations that entailed. Kind words spoken by people I truly respect and am privileged to call friends and colleagues. Ooops, former colleagues but friends for a lifetime. I am a lucky guy. And I've made the right decision. Ok road, where to now?


As I get closer to the Alberta border there are more indications of oil activity with nodding horses dotting the landscape. I am heading towards Lloydminister, a town with a unique distinction. It is the only city divided between two provinces. The Alta-Sask boundary runs right across the main street. I felt the almost biblical sign of separation when as if by natural design I was given a sign that I was indeed a different place, maybe not Kansas but certainly latitudenally and philosophically aligned with that part of the world.



I certainly feel the existence of a western mentality. At the motel there was a large sign over the office door, "Please Wipe Your Boots on the Matt Provided Before Entering." Worked for me, and I did.

The Journey Begins...Episode 1

Prelude to Day One

“What was I thinking,” I thought, “you've just thrown away a well paying, secure job for a life of unpredictable contracts and who knows what in tough economic times.” Not the best mantra to start out on the first leg of a journey in search of my dreams. I lay in bed trying to entice sleep’s arrival as doubts crept in. That was over a month ago now and as I look back at that moment the words of Kevin, my golf teammate in the Air North Midnight Scramble quickly come to mind. Saturday before last, June 20th, we met for the first time on the 18th tee at the Mountain View golf course. We awaited the arrival of the two other members of our foursome in this best-ball tournament. I knew none of these men and had just made it into the tourney as a last minute replacement for a regular who had to drop out. After introducing ourselves the first thing Kevin asked was, “what kind of player are you?” I replied, “Not that good.” “Geez man, you gotta have more confidence than that to play this game! You are replacing our ace putter, how’s your putting?” I replied, “Well my putting is a bit unpredictable, it can also be the weakest part of my game.” “Oh man you gotta quit thinking like that, you gotta be more positive!” Who knew I‘d be teamed up with the Yukon equivalent of motivational guru Tony Robbins, here on a golf course in Whitehorse! But when a 6’4” Cree man from Saskatchewan says get more confidence you begin to look for it in a hurry. Thanks to the pep talk and three very enjoyable playing partners I shook of the golf rust and early jitters and made a healthy contribution to our team. Even won a closest-to-the-hole contest on a 174 yards par 3 with 143 other golfers, many of whom are fine players judging from the team scores posted. So, dammit, I’m going to do this contract thing and I’m going to do it well and I'll enjoy the experience. Thanks for the inspiration Kevin.
(Editor’s note: this is the only "hindsight" flashback in the travel portion of the Blog, the rest is as experienced or shortly thereafter.)






Every traveller should be guided by a cake map, truly enjoy eating up those miles!












May 25 Day I

After carefully packing and adjusting and rechecking the contents of the car Caryn and I headed out for a last greasy breakfast at Kozy’s, our favorite neighborhood breakfast spot. This would also bring to a close the past few weeks of retirement celebrations affectionately known as DougFest. The endless stream of lunches and dinners and parties were taking their toll, I was de-svelting rapidly. No problem, I thought, exercise at the end of every day’s drive would fix that. As for now… “more buttered toast please.”

It is time. Farewells are exchanged, last minute details reviewed and then it begins. Key, ignition, gas…ooops, its a standard, right... CLUTCH, key, ignition…now the gas. And simple as that it is westward ho! Well as far west as Arnprior, my childhood hometown and a mandatory stop. Iconic images of my youth, Wes' Chip Wagon and the old post office, must photos to document the meeting of old and new intertwining on this trip of dreams.

Right, time for a break, I mean it has been a grueling 70 kilometres so far. I visit with brother Mike and, surprise, surprise, two brothers for the price for one, Bart has taken an extended lunch break to hang out on the chance I will show up.


Bart, just tell the boss you were on a smoke break, an hour long smoke break.












This is our last opportunity to be together this summer as it is unlikely either will come to the Yukon. We share some laughs and bottled water, now that is a first, but there still is a long drive ahead. More goodbyes and finally on to the road, the true beginning of the journey, honest.

Onto the Trans-Canada Highway and through very familiar territory, the Ottawa Valley, summers of my youth spent paving roads, the memories come flooding back; learning how to work, to live away from home and family, being recognized as an individual and not just part of a clan. Then there were the later years, vacations and road trips with my own family, golf outings and cottages. The history I have read about, the history I have lived all blend into this stew of life recalled... or maybe poutine is more Canadian, hmmm? Hey, the Soo, how did that happen so fast? The Ipod fueled drive, that little, memory inducing device, churning out music that inspires so many thoughts about people, places, events, decisions made and not made. The dreams seem to be steering the car, I’m just along for the ride. Yeeehaw!

May 26 Day 2

Up early, got in some exercise, breakfast consisted of a Subway sub, half for breakfast the second for lunch. Mmmm fast food turkey with olives, pickles and lettuce on whole wheat bread now that is healthy, just ask Jarrett. A few items required at Canadian Tire; more water and a flashlight. Fast food and Canadian Tire what could be more patriotic… ok maybe a Timmy’s coffee but there’s still time for a break, that would make the perfect Canuck trifecta. All set to go. I decide to follow the Trans-Canada instead of heading north. It is a longer route but I have never been through this part of Ontario, hey and I have the time.

I am astounded by the beauty of the land and water but there is a growing realization that this is one, butt numbingly BIG province! The music is cranked up as one memory evoking song after another pours out of that Ipod. Between the music and a dictatorial right foot my ability to intervene and stop to enjoy historic plaques or roadside attractions has failed completely. I have no influence over the foot on the gas pedal whatsoever. I have a hard time coaxing it to even press on the brake once in a while, let alone come to a full stop so I can stretch! To be fair the weather is drizzly and pictures of the Wawa Goose would not have lived up to anyone’s gander. Sorry old habit but I know you will appreciate it Elizabeth. As for natural beauty there is one peculiar area before Thunder Bay. As I reached the top of a hill I am in awe of a strange sight in the valley and hillsides surrounding me. Here is the mysterious valley of the Flaccid Birch. For some reason all of these the thousands of birch trees are bent over as if there had been an incredible ice storm or snowfall recently. I finally seize control of the car and actually turned around so as to get the best vantage point to photograph this weird, almost abstract view.













The movie shows better examples.








Back on the road and soon Thunder Bay looms ahead of me. Time to shop, replenish supplies and why not, check out the public library. It occurs to me that Kenora is next stop, actually last stop in Ontario. It is famous for several reasons; Huskie the Muskie, the much touted Willy Fountain and lastly being home to that famous archivist Leah Sander. First, let me just say a word about public libraries if I may. These buildings are such a neglected resource in this country, not only do they offer an oasis for learning but they provide internet access to anyone willing to sign up. This provides instant access to so many tools and allows communication anywhere in the world.

Where was I, ok despite that build up, instead of the internet I rely on a good old fashioned phone book and sure enough there is the number for the Sander household. Once I have found accommodations for the night in T-Bay I place a call and enjoy a pleasant conversation with Lois Sander. I explain my westward journey and that I had worked with Leah at LAC. I mention what a wonderful person her daughter is. Lois responded nonplussed, “oh yes we know that!” Somehow the phone conversation translates into a dinner invitation, and it takes little effort to convince me to drop by the next day.

May 27 Day 3

The trip from TB to Kenora is panoramic in the welcome sunshine. I arrive with time to spare so I took in the sights, downtown murals, the town hall, yes the public library, a lovely building and a busy place as well. Do a bit more internet messaging then set out to capture some of the famous sites on camera. Pick up a few offerings to add to dinner and head off to Casa Sander. Lois had mentioned “simple” fare, fish and potatoes. Ah but what fish, lake trout recently caught and dessert consisting of homemade blueberry grunt, hand picked berries, just what I am counting on. Add to the good meal two and a half hours of lively conversation covering life in this part of Ontario, the current mayor who actually proposed closing the library, boooo! I'm ready to lead a protest right there and then. Lee and Lois speak about the travels of their children to exotic and interesting places demonstrating what a remarkable country we have that furnishes opportunity for all regardless of location. Leah had e-mailed them earlier and passed along a copy of her fine poem delivered at my the retirement party so that sparks more discussion. Alas the time was too short and I have to move on if I am to reach my destination of the far side of Winnipeg by the end of the evening. So with warm goodbyes and a commemorative photo to capture the Sander hospitality I head towards Manitoba.






Lois and Lee.











A few wrong turns and then misdirections from a gas station attendant took me on a painfully slow drive through the heart of downtown Winnipeg. I am now way behind schedule. It is late, I’m tired and in need of a place to rest. I try two different motels but no vacancies to be had. I ask the night manager if he knows of any place that had a vacancy. He assures “oh sure I know a place,” and confirms with a quick call. Off I went, directions in hand and end up at a not too inviting cinder block building, the night clerk tucked behind a wire screen. She seems somewhat surprised when I ask for a room, as if to say, “For the entire night?” Hey it had a bed, the door locked and there are no bugs on the floor or mushrooms growing in the tub. All of my criteria are met or exceeded. Ah sleep!

Day 4 May 28

Today’s objective is Saskatoon, a bit of a stretch but I am prepared. I’ve got secret weapons, a cd version of Who Had Seen the Wind read by W.O. Mitchell himself. I plan to spend an extra day there, be a tourist, slow down and smell the flowers… or is that Round Up, the herbicide? The drive is going well except that being in the car for four long days starts to wear. I decide to take a break and saw a sign for a local golf course. I drive in and ask if they had a driving range. Yes indeed but could I wait fifteen minutes or so until they cleared the range of balls. No problem. I watch as one of the staff in a golf cart pulls a small “harvester” around the area picking up golf balls from earlier practitioners. I wait, with a smile, do some stretching and the proceed to hit my first golf shots of the year all over the place, pitying that poor retriever who would have his work cut out for himself, next trip. After that I head to the club house and order a hot dog and a beer, the complete golf experience! It is a very pleasant place, convivial staff and ladies. The ladies were starting to come in from their day on the course, bragging about their scores. I enjoy the repartee between the staff and these obviously familiar customers. I am treated the same way, small town friendliness. For the most part it has been a solitary adventure I am on and I don’t have many opportunities to interact with people other than buying food, gas or lodging, so moments as this are made even more enjoyable. I guess I have to admit that I am a sociable guy. Although this opportunity for lots of thinking and reflecting is welcome.

For example, I mentioned to a friend just before leaving Ottawa on this journey that this was a quest of sorts. A vision of Don Quixote came to mind as I said this. And what Canadian doesn’t have frequent visions of DQ I ask. Well a few thousand kilometers along in my journey and I am able to say that the good Don and I are pursuing different goals. While we share the ideals of chivalry, I am not going to tilt at oil rigs or roadside attractions. Although I was tempted by that giant muskie! Man, not only was it huge but it is Plexiglas so you can mount it on an exterior wall. My objectives are to visit or re-visit places which resonate for me in my own personal experience. Only drawback is trying to do that in western Canada with Ontario plates! I have to admit one bit of uber-coincidence. While travelling though Manitoba I decide to play one of the dozens of books on CD Paul Marsden offered to me out of his vast collection. I had selected only four since I have to haul them back with me at the end of my Yukon adventure. At random I chose one and began to play The Alchemist. It is novel about a quest of a young Spanish shepherd. He is directed in his pursuit of his own "personal legend" by the ancient King of Salem. [The Alchemist was originally written in Portuguese and has since been translated into 67 languages, winning the Guinness World Record for most translated book by a living author.^ a b Paulo Coelho Biography on PauloCoelho.com. ] http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/c/c4/TheAlchemist.jpg

Ah a blog with footnotes, I can see readers leaving in droves at this point. For those who stick it out, you may want to consider this one for your bookclubs. It is a great allegorical work that stikes home for me, no not the shepherd part, nor young for that matter, it is the quest of which I speak.


Take one IPOD loaded with old favorites and new, so many smiles and occasional tears, hey I’m getting old and sentimental, during the first days of the tour. In some ways it is like stepping into a time machine of memories that are unlocked by the music. Different eras, people, events yes even those polyester pants ok! Combine that with the avalanche of experiences and fresh memories just from the last few months. All of these things with the associated counterpoint to artists new and old and their music. Each of these imprints roll out of the car speakers as ‘random play’ dictates the order , triggering emotions and recollections in my mind, racing through years and events as I race through Northern Ontario and the West. Quite the sensory experience. Fortunately the landscape is up to the task, big enough to take on half a century plus of life and reminiscences.

I decide to take a break when I get to Yorkton, Saskatchewan, have lunch and look around at the local life. After a tour of downtown and the local grocer I eventually end up in, come on guess, the local public library. I am quickly installed at a computer and established internet connection to the universe. With the whole of the web at my disposal, and against my own avowed prohibition to shake the archival dust off, I try to log onto my old LAC account. Fortunately, I am unsuccessful. On the bright side I did have a number of important e-mails on my personal site concerning hockey playoff pools and enjoyable messages from friends and family. What a gift this interweb! I meet a fellow from Ottawa who is looking at the internet login in sheet and sees my name and address. He knows Whytes but not related. He lives here part of the year and the rest of the time in Florida or Vancouver. I am getting ideas about possible lifestyle options.

Back in the car, and on to Saskatoon. Another random thought, I miss my family. Sure this has been the culmination of several years planning and weeks of build up and the endless stream of retirement related events; celebrations parties, lunches, dinners and I am sure that put a strain on every one. Maybe in a few weeks of things getting back to normal and quiet once again returns to our Spadina home, it will be appreciated by the inhabitants. Me I’m lonely. Must be post DougFest withdrawal, although I don’t think I have even received as many hugs in all my life, so it wasn’t all bad. Ok none of it was bad it’s just that now I’m alone. Ah Saskatoon, hey it is big, 209,000 thousands of people; I’m not alone any more. Who knew!?!?! Find suitable accommodations where I can spend a comfortable couple of days, go out for walk and than a good dinner.


Day 5 May 29

Next morning I decide to work the kinks out of my golf game so I find a local driving range. It is an interesting experience especially as there is a local high school gym class occupying most of the tees. Lots of hi-jinks as the boys do their best impressions of Happy Gilmour trying to impress their buddies and the number of girls in the co-ed class. It is a warm sunny day making the setting even more convivial. The young ladies are less interested in hitting the ball and more interested in just being outdoors. Interesting to see so many of the kids hitting golf ball, big hair and even bigger headphones. Could be the start of a new trend on the tour?

Once done the bucket at the range I am able to get directions to the University of Saskatchewan campus. I want to see the Diefenbaker Centre as it was a big part of my early career although I had never been there before. I find the place and enter, sauntering around for a bit before I introduce myself to the staff and manage to wangle a tour of the archives with Rob Paul, Archival Coordinator. We have a great chat, he brought me up to date on what the Centre is involved in these days, I gave background information about the period when the decision to place the archives was still up in the air. Bob Gordon, Director of Manuscript Division at Public Archives of Canada, had made a big pitch for the collection pulling on Dief’s patriotism, for the good of all Canadians. To no avail, the deal was done with U of S. In the end he bartered a ‘Presidential- like' Library with a mausoleum thrown in to boot! This is one of the moments when past meets present and the collision of historical atoms produces some strange occurrences. I had spent several years during the early part of my archival career delving into this man’s papers. This was the first time I had ever seen the end product processed and together in one place. I truly relish the experience, it is special to be here, checking boxes of historic papers, seeing the row upon row of mobile shelving, the museum, the gravesite, the whole environment devoted to Dief. This is the moment when I decide to take a side trip to Prince Albert and visit his home which has also been turned into a museum. What the heck, I may never have the opportunity again. Thanks Rob for your time, I wish you well.

Rob Paul in the Dief Archives

To be continued..............