Yukon bush life

(Yukon) Our bend in the river is a windy spot. It’s about to get worse. We didn’t get a moose and so it will be a diet of dried beans for the winter. On the bright side, the wind blows the deep cold away so this will give new meaning to the term “man-made climate change.” Calling for moose on the river We missed our moose, the one we stood 30 feet away from but had no rifle. We aren’t seeing any tracks now so perhaps they have gone back up into the mountains? Lore has it that moose come down to rut when it gets cold. It didn’t get cold this year.  Calling from the porch with birch bark bugle Our lonesome moose lady calls are answered only by cackling ravens and furious squirrels. We haven’t given up, but it’s feeling unlikely. Out early, looking for bloody moose We’ve tried our hand at fishing. We didn’t have line strong enough for salmon and so have improvised with parachute cord.  They aren’t fooled. When we fished salmon ...

(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...