Day 2 in Yellowknife - Amazing Views, the Visitor Center, & Absolutely Freezing
I spent a lazy morning in bed watching shows that I’d downloaded on Netflix. At around 8:30 AM, I got up and opened the curtains, exposing the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Outside, the world was blue. In the distance the mountains loomed and the sky looked like a silk blanket had been thrown across it.
I looked out at the vista for a while, taking in the curve of the road and the little wooden houseboats that stood isolated in little banks of snow. Then I lay down on the sofa, my feet toward the window and my head propped on a pillow. Picking up my phone, I finished the show I’d been watching. Every once in a while, I’d set it down to look out at the wild world outside.
At around 9:00 AM, I saw the owner of the B&B drive up to the house. I got up, stretched, and started pulling myself together. I needed to at least put pants on over my long underwear before going upstairs for breakfast.
The attempt at getting dressed for the day was lackadaisical at best. Finally, I pulled on a pair of jeans and opened my door. I walked up the set of wooden stairs to the upper floor. The owner of the B&B was sitting on the couch. As soon as he saw that I was awake, he began cooking breakfast. Two over medium eggs & two thick pieces of toast with jam. Plus a cup of coffee to wash it all down.
I sat at the breakfast table, which featured maps of the Yellowknife Aurora trail beneath a protective plastic cover. I studied it for a brief moment then turned to look out at the frozen lake and the house across the street. The house was a simple structure with a pitched green roof and terra cotta-colored siding. A snow-covered awning stretched out over the porch while frosted trees stood in the front yard. Their thin branches were blanketed in soft white fluff. A light cloud of smoke billowed from the chimney, drawing my eyes up to a sky that was just starting to turn a paler blue.
I sat there contentedly eating my breakfast, messaging a few friends on Instagram, and enjoying the quiet morning.
As the sun made its way into the sky, a dusty pink glow emerged at the tops of the distant mountains, illuminating elegant peaks. I don’t think there’s anything quite so astounding as watching the world come alive. This is especially true in rural areas where the snow is an untarnished canvas. The golden light of the sunrise paints brush strokes between exposed rocks and coruscates off the shimmering ice.
I let myself enjoy my time there, sipping the dark roast of coffee, and staring out at the forested landscape. I have a bad habit of idealizing things, daydreaming of better scenarios than the ones that I’m in. However, that morning, I felt that nothing could have been improved upon.
If I could create a dream life for myself, it would consist of slow mornings. Breakfasts with a view. Hot coffee, hearty breakfasts, and time to sit and think about things (or nothing at all) as I watch the rest of the world wake up.
Follow that with a good few hours writing and you’ve basically given me Nirvana.
Et voila!
That’s exactly how I shaped my second full day in Yellowknife. Feeling full and content from breakfast and stimulated by the coffee, I thanked the B&B owner then walked back downstairs to my room. There, I sat down at the little desk in the corner, arranged myself to be able to look out at the lake whenever I wanted, and started writing this recap of the morning. It was a most perfect moment.
After I finished writing about my morning, I decided it was time to go up to the Bush Pilot Monument. Just up the hill from the B&B, it was said to have great views of the city.
I pulled on my layers and, looking at the bright day outside, decided that I didn’t need my face mask.
Boy, was I in for a shock. I stepped outside and almost immediately felt the difference in temperature between the day before and this day. I shivered as I pulled the door handle and turned the key to lock it.
Still, I hypothesized that it would be warmer once I got into the sun, so I didn’t go back inside.
I turned left and trotted up the small hill next to the B&B. Again I saw a fox. It raced in front of me and into the snowy forest. This time, however, I was distressed to see what looked like a ribbon tied around its tail. It had sprinted too quickly for me to really see, but I hoped it was just something that had gotten caught after a night of rummaging. I tried not to think about a person having done that to the animal on purpose. I truly believe that there is nothing more dangerous than a bored human.
It was only a few more paces before I found a set of steps that had been described to me by the B&B owner. Sure enough, a plaque provided some brief insights into this exact spot: the Bush Pilots Monument.
I made the climb up the steps to the highest point in the city. It wasn’t difficult and the view was breathtaking. The sun was still rising up over the mountains, illuminating every part of Yellowknife, from the austere buildings of the downtown area to the charming houseboats that floated on a sea of ice.
I could also see trucks driving along the ice roads, across the lake to get to the city. A man on a bicycle road across as well. Everywhere I looked, the golden world around me seemed to be getting ready for the day to begin.
The pilot’s monument itself is a tower-like structure with a metal airplane sculpture at the top. Below, a plaque explains who it’s dedicated to—the pilots who bravely flew to this arctic territory. Carrying passengers and supplies, they made it possible for this town to survive.
At this point, my face was burning. I tried to cover my cheeks with my gloved hands, but the exterior of the gloves felt like ice. I’d been reading about frostbite the night before (while deciding if I wanted to go snowmobiling or not) and I remembered a description that involved a prickling sensation on your skin as ice particles formed.
I swore I could feel that prickling sensation. Quickly, I descended down the stairs back toward the B&B. Luckily, it was just a five minute walk.
Back inside, I used the restroom before replacing my furry flapped hat with a beanie and a full face mask. It took me a while to warm up and I let myself relax. Once I was sufficiently reheated, I grabbed my daypack and set off for the central downtown area.
I was bound for the Visitor Center in hopes of receiving a signed certificate proving that I had been to this arctic region.
Luckily, Google maps had taken me on a roundabout journey to the ice caves the day before. Because of this, I’d had a general understanding of which direction to walk in. I headed down the road until I reached a small cabin with an Aurora flag hanging on one side. It was the Yellowknife Adventures company and I’d seen it on my previous day’s walk. I turned right and walked along the main road. Trucks drove past with bundled drivers holding the wheel in gloved hands.
I passed 49th street where I’d turned during my ice cave adventure. Today, however, I continued on.
It wasn’t a bad city. There were offices, businesses, stores, and a movie theater. However, I couldn’t help but feel grateful that my B&B was in the Old Town, which had that rustic, Yukon atmosphere to it. Cabins and houseboats rather than tall concrete buildings.
When I came to 52nd street, I again turned to the right. After walking past a movie theater and office buildings, I saw what looked like a National Park. Nestled within white forest was a brown building. I crossed a street and saw that it was, indeed, the Yellowknife City Hall where the Visitor Center was located.
A sign outside directed me into a small room. As walked in through the glass doors, other tourists were making their way out back into the cold.
A young woman sat behind an L-shaped counter.
I walked over and asked, “Is the Visitor Center in here?”
Without missing a beat, she responded, “this is the visitor center.”
Looking up, I realized the small room had a polar bear and wolf on display. There were also some artifacts with descriptions set up along the back wall.
“Oh!” I responded, trying not to sound too surprised.
“Let me know if you have any questions.”
So I walked to the back and started to read.
Ever since I was a child, I’ve been attracted to native cultures. I was enthralled by their ability to live in the wild land and the connection they had with the animals and nature that surrounded them. As a child, I read about the Shoshone tribe. When I traveled to Alaska as a ten-year-old, I became captivated by the stories told on totems. I sewed rabbit fur pouches and wanted so badly to be able to feel the spirit of the earth beneath my feet and on my finger tips as I played in the dirt.
All this is to say that I enjoyed the short time I spent reading in that small visitor center. There were interesting facts about the native people, the Dene, and their incredible ingenuity and connection with that frozen place.
As I approached the end of the informational displays, I began to wonder where, exactly, I was supposed to get the certificate from.
Almost as though reading my mind, the girl behind the counter said, “if you’d like a souvenir, we have certificates and pins. They’re free. Most people come here for them.”
I walked over and watched as she signed her name as a “witness” to my having been there. Then she handed me the certificate, which I signed as well, along with a little pin of a yellow knife.
Then off I went to walk along the trails that were right outside the center. I crunched along in the snow, breaking off from the main path to follow a snowmobile trail down to a snow track. It was just off to the side of the main lake and I stared out across the flat white landscape to the other side.
Once I’d had my fill of admiring the snowy forest, I walked down a path toward a brown modern building with a curved roof. Something I loved about Yellowknife was the modernism that could be found throughout the city. At times, it almost felt like a Scandinavian country in the Canadian arctic.
As I approached the brown building, I realized it was a museum. I debated about going inside, but thought that I’d rather walk outside for a bit. I continued down the hiking path until I was hidden on either side by a frosted forest.
This was a big mistake. In the shade of the trees, the temperature was at least 2ºC cooler. I’m guessing it was around -30ºC? Anyway, my toes started to go numb and my fingers burned.
Knowing that I wanted to stop into some souvenir shops, I turned around and raced back toward the Museum. Passing the big building, I walked briskly back toward the Visitor Center, only stopping long enough to help a Japanese couple find the path to the museum.
Once back in the central downtown area, I knew I had to stop in somewhere to warm up quick. I checked my phone with fumbling fingers and noticed that a souvenir shop was located inside the YK Center. A strange building, it felt somewhat deserted as I walked through its doors. I saw a store named for the Ragged Ass road which sold some souvenirs, but nothing that I thought looked like a gift for anyone I knew.
Browsing for a while just to regain feeling in my hands, I finally felt ready to head back out into the below freezing temperatures. Once back on the sidewalk, I noticed a different shop across the street.
To be honest, it sort of looked like a strip club from the outside with its neon sign, but I saw some other tourists coming out of the building, so made my way over and went inside.
It was different than other souvenir shops. Native arts and crafts were featured along the walls and in display cases. I browsed around and had a chat with the store owner. He’d visited Hawaii a couple of times and had really liked it there. Though many of the crafts were beautiful, they were mostly made from animal hide and bone (not something my San Francisco animal-loving friends would enjoy). However, I did find a nice woven hat for my mom and some woven gloves for a fellow birthday girl, Haven.
Saying goodbye to the shop owner, I took a deep breath and went back outside. With my head down, I marched along the road toward the Old Town.
The journey back felt much longer than it had on the way there. By the time I passed the NWT Brewery (which I’d eaten at the night before), I could no longer feel my feet. This resulted in the quick and spontaneous decision to duck into Bullock’s Bistro, a famous Fish & Chips place that the B&B owner had told me about during my drive into town.
I only ever eat fish when I’m in a seaside town (and know its been freshly line caught). So, I sat down and ordered the Arctic Char. Luckily, I’d been warned that it was expensive, so my $40 fish and chips plate wasn’t as big of a shock as it should have been.
The money was worth the atmosphere with two boisterous gals chatting with themselves and anyone who walked in the front door. Feminist stickers were slapped onto the oven vent and the lady in charge of the stove certainly knew what she was doing.
I took a seat at a small round table near the entrance and felt a lot more comfortable than I had when I’d eaten alone at the brewery the night before. Almost as soon as I sat down, a plate of sweet brown bread and thick butter was set down in front of me.
Boy, did I not realize how hungry I was until I ate that first slice of bread. I remembered in Finland when our guide Erikki explained that during the winter, he’d butter on everything because it was so hard to keep on weight in that cold weather. I suppose I thought this gave me an excuse to stuff my face as well.
And stuff my face I did. I ate all of the bread and then devoured one whole fish that was placed down in front of me. The woman who served me quickly whisked back around to ask if I wanted tartar sauce or a feta cheese sauce. She brought me both.
I enjoyed the fish, fries, and a salad, all the while dipping each into the sauces. Soft and seasoned, it was delicious. But I have to say, the warmth of the restaurant was the most delicious part of the meal.
After paying, I knew it was time to leave. I also knew that I’d eaten a lot more than I’d expected to. Standing up, I could feel the heavy weight in my stomach.
I stepped outside into the cold air. Looking up, I saw that there was a grocery store across from me. I wanted to get back to my B&B, but I also knew that if I’d need to drink coffee later (if I was going to stay up for my Aurora tour). It didn’t start until 10:00 PM and didn’t end until 3:00 AM.
So I went inside and bought some instant coffee, a dark chocolate almond bar for myself, and an Aero bar for another friend’s birthday. At the counter, the cashier mused at the almond bar.
“This sounds good,” she said.
“Oh, it is!” I replied, “I need something sweet.”
She nodded in approval and then I was on my way. Once back at the B&B, I knew that I couldn’t stay inside for very long. My stomach ached fullness and I knew that I needed to move around a bit more.
So I dropped off my groceries and gifts, put my shoes back on, and decided to locate the pick-up spot for my tour that night.
It’s a good thing I did too. It took me forever to recognize it. I walked past the little red house two or three times before I realized that it was the place.
I also stopped to take a walk out on the lake. I watched as a man on a bike pedaled home with his dog running by his side. The sun was setting and I could see all of the boats and houseboats glimmering in its light. It was beautiful, really.
Finally it was time to head back to get some rest and drink a bit of coffee before my tour. The night looked clear and though there was only a small KP index for the auroras, I still maintained hope that I would see them.
