Arrival in Yellowknife

After dreaming of visiting Yellowknife since I was a child, I'm finally here and probably at the nicest time of year. You might all be wondering why on earth is isolated capital city of the Northwest Territories even on my must see travel list - actually if you knew me you'd probably not be all that surprised... I like small towns and remote locations (I do live in a smaller, even more remote and isolated hamlet on the shores of Baker Lake), but in this case it has to do the the stories of the best story tellers that I know: My Gramma and Grandpa.

From my earliest childhood days, Yellowknife was synonomous with the north, adventure, the barrens and the final frontier. My grandpa told us stories of his travels on the land with a canoe and a friend and some very bad cooking. I still remember him vividly telling me about waking up with his sleeping bag covered in snow. My grandma tells stories of the people of Yellowknife - how an old miner taught her how to cook her first turkey for my Granpa after they were married.

Arriving here, I was caught doing something as lame as photographing the polar bear diorama in the airport. I had to laugh at myself as we were driving into town from the airport that I was getting that culture shock thing that goes with cars, roads and trees and large buildings because my typical viewscape is red clay/gravel roads, trucks, hondas and machines (skidoos), and the largest building in town is the high school. The view from my room is amazing - I can see the territorial legislature and Frame Lake.

I'd better throw out a few picture and then go take a bunch more for you all. I know a remarkable number of displaced Yellowknifers for someone who has never been here before.