Yukon bush life

We met the Yukon’s most formidable forces this spring. The annual breakup of the Yukon River ice, which will not go until it is ready and will not stop for anyone, the world’s fastest bird and a family of grizzly bears, Mum and two grown cubs. Grizzly cubs stay with their mother for up to 3 years and nothing, not even the largest, grizzliest of male bears will tangle with the combined power of this fluffy, little family unit, happily picnicking across the river from us. The cubs are almost the same size as their mother now and loll around on the bank digging at roots or voles. One is honey amber and the other a shimmering blond, almost polar bear white. I’ve read that males usually have dark fur so maybe they are both teenage girls? They lay on their bellies with their paws stuffed into holes in the sand. Probably looking at their phones. Mum is slightly larger and paces along the beach. Even she is endearingly plump and cuddly. Grizzlies are the tedd...

(Lou, Yukon) The emotional rollercoaster we’ve been riding on our broken down snowmachine took a couple of stomach-churning turns this week. We fixed our machine! All by ourselves! (With only a little bit of help from just about everyone in a hundred mile radius.) Then we managed to break it again before we got it running! Superb. How did we manage this amazing feat? We went to town last week on a borrowed Skidoo to collect our new snowmachine, a 1993 Polaris 340 (or Piccolo as we’ve named him.) The new part we needed to fix our machine, a coupler, was there at the PO (along with a very welcome parcel of gin and chocolate.) We waited for it get above -30 before going to fit the coupler as our disabled machine was still two miles away out on the trail. It didn’t. We went anyway as we wanted to return the Skidoo our Alaskan pals had lent us. The new coupler fitted beautifully. We got her running but she just wasn’t happy, smoking and backfiring, now what? Ah, very si...

(Lou, Yukon) We had two major breakdowns this week, first my husband then the snowmachine. The machine is more inconvenient. Neil twisted his knee. Nothing major, but he can’t just take it easy, forget the bike and get the DLR to work as he would in London. So I’ve had to get all the wood and water again. (I am a martyr, have I mentioned that before?) Time is the best healer for injuries. But not machines. We had been working on finding and staking our trail downriver, after losing it under a fucking great heap of snow. Trail goes this way somewhere We decided I shouldn’t carry on alone as if the machine rolled on the rough ice I could get pinned underneath it. That decision lasted as long as it took me to get bored. About half an hour. I don’t take stupid risks. I travel slowly, don’t go too far and snow shoe any sections I’m not sure of before driving them. I take a Delorme satellite signaller. If I’m not home by a set time, Neil can check the internet for a...