Northern Sights

by Karen Harrison

Every year, thousands from around the globe descend on Yellowknife, capital of the Northwest Territories, for a sight of one of the world’s natural wonders, the Aurora Borealis.

I departed Ottawa with the same intention earlier this year, only to be foiled by cloudy weather. Though I never did see the colours that make the northern sky such a spectacular attraction, I did enjoy a dogsled ride on a frozen lake with international racer Grant Beck and now appreciate the words of John Buchan, Governor General Lord Tweedsmuir, on his first encounter with the north in 1937: “It is impossible to describe the country, for it is built on a scale outside that of humanity.”

Having lived all my life in Canada, I am embarrassed to say that this was the furthest I had travelled in my own country. I have always had a deep-seeded curiosity about the North. What is it really like?

“The whole history of the Canadian North can be divided into two periods – before and after the airplane,” Hugh L. Keenleyside wrote in the Canadian Geographical Journal in 1949. While one can now drive to Yellowknife year round, I took the plane. As we flew over northern Alberta, the distance began to sink in – signs of settlement became rare, and Great Slave Lake, frozen solid and snow-covered, seemed endless. Finally, the tower of the Con gold mine appeared, with Yellowknife set amid a landscape of snow and tamaracks.

At the airport, I was greeted by a masterpiece of taxidermy – a polar bear on an ice floe, catching a fish, while a seal dives nearby. The Ministry of Transportation poster about bison on the highways helped to put into perspective any big city roadside groundhog issues.

Thanks to the airplane and adventurous bush pilots, Yellowknife began to grow as a town in the 1930s. This heritage of flight is highlighted in many ways, from the Bristol Air monument near the airport, to the Pilots’ Monument high atop an outcrop in the middle of Old Town. The history of flight in N.W.T continues to be written as several float plane companies operate within the city limits, supporting the burgeoning diamond mine industry hundreds of kilometres beyond Yellowknife.

Compared to the vast landscape around it, Yellowknife may not seem like much. In truth, it is a thriving city of 38,000. The Legislative Assembly of the Northwest Territories meets in an exquisite building on the edge of Frame Lake (one of several lakes which dot the city). Only two stories high, it sits nestled amongst tamaracks. The round chamber is symbolic of the consensus form of government in the Territories; the elegant use of zinc panels inside and out signifies the land formation of the north, and the use of glass, both architecturally and artistically, permits the maximum amount of natural light possible in such a far northern location.

Steps away is the Prince of Wales Northern Heritage Centre. This jewel of a museum describes itself, in part, as “A Cultural Journey Through the Northwest Territories”. Exhibits range from First Nations art and artifacts, to detailed explanations of mining technology, to hands-on children’s activities. The café, under soaring cedar arches, is the best place I found.

It is easy to eat well in Yellowknife. Fish, bison and caribou seem to be staples, and Bullock’s Bistro in Old Town serves them all with gusto in a noisy, friendly (“I’m so busy, but you can make your own tea”) atmosphere. Be sure to sign your name on the wall – seriously! Quieter, casual elegance can be found at Old Town Landing.

The official motto of Yellowknife is multum in parvo (Much from Little) and while I do not wish to quibble with the founders, I would suggest changing it to multum in multo – Much from Much. Though the Aurora Borealis eluded me, everyone I met said, “Come back in the summer! Fishing! Canoeing! Hiking!” I hope to someday, for, to paraphrase Robert W. Service, circa 1909, “The North has got her.“



Karen Harrison is CGE’s circulation manager.