Yukon bush life

Disappearing water hole Sometimes I find myself thinking, Christ this is hard. When it’s 45 below, and our waterhole has disappeared under glacial ice, and everything we didn’t put upstairs froze solid overnight, and we cannot get warm in the house as no matter how much wood we burn the heat stops 3 feet from the wood stove. It’s times like those when you need to remind yourself just how much worse it could be and go camping. We didn’t purposefully pick the coldest night so far this winter, we just went “Let’s go test the new tent out on Tuesday.” Tuesday was the beginning of a cold snap that’s kept us between 35-45 below for two weeks. Setting off We set off anyway, late in the day with the 40 year-old wall tent and "hippy killer" wood stove. It was a test to see how it would feel if we’d been travelling all day and then had to stop, find two trees the right space apart to hang the tent, clear the ground, cut firewood and camp for the night. ...

People often ask me, are there lots of mad people in the bush? I don’t know if there are more than anywhere else , but I know this- if you are mentally unwell, living alone in a tiny cabin and seeing no-one for months on end will send you a whole lot fucking madder. Snowy day on the beach We’ve just lost a very dear friend. As far we know they haven’t died, but they left a very odd note in our PO box last month, and have refused all contact by email since. Though they are one of our closest friends, I’ve never written about this person. They are intensely private. When I say private, what I really mean is, delusionally paranoid. This person can be great company and has been very kind to us, both with advice and possessions. But we knew every interaction we had was mulled over and picked apart in the depths of an unwell mind. We knew that one day we would say or do something that would weave us into the web of conspiracy that our friend saw all a...