I'm an Environmentalist.

This is not a rant. I am writing on behalf of the hundreds who call themselves students of Environmental Studies; environmentalists, if you will. 

You see, we’ve been placed into a box – like many other folks pursuing certain academic things – and that box can be very limiting in terms of image and portrayal of this discipline, leading to more than a few prejudgements from those on the outside. I want to set the record straight. Right here, right now. There’s probably a lot of inaccuracies or - and I hate to use this word - ‘labels’ attached to us Environmental Studies students, but this is just a short list of the ideas other people have had about me during my four years in university. 

1)    I’m a hippy

Nothing against hippies, I’m just not one. On the contrary, identifying yourself as a ‘hippy’ is nothing to be ashamed about; hippies have pulled the human rights wagon further than most groups. At the height of the American Counterculture Movement during the 1960’s, these folks worked on having an incredibly positive impact in many places. If it weren’t for the ‘hippies’,  LGBTQ Rights, freedom of speech, anti-war campaigns and environmentalism wouldn’t be close to what we know and have today. 

And I wasn’t part of any of that. So please, stop calling me a hippie, and read a history book, or better yet watch Zeitgeist. 

2)    I am solely responsible for saving the world 

There’s a really scary word used by big businesses called externalities. It refers to the residual aspects of industry; the side effects of mining, lumber exports, building houses, global banking, etc. and, you probably guessed it, these externalities really mess things up. The damage caused by whatever means to create a product are often ignored because some people think that other interest groups will just take care of it.

According to this logic, I am part of this ‘other group’, solely because I will graduate in a year with a degree that flashes ‘here they come to save the dayyyyyyy!’ In rides the environmentalists on golden steeds, ready to fight for justice and make everything right again. It’s this kind of image that perpetuates thoughts like ‘somebody else will take care of this’ or rebuttals like ‘isn’t there people advocating for that already??’

Sometimes we ride in on golden crocodiles, too.

Take a good look back into history. The only time anything big and important ever got done, such as significant legislation enacted, human rights extended, wars ended, etc, it was because a multitude of people from a multitude of backgrounds came together over some commonality. Environmental Studies isn’t trying to breed a group of distinct individuals who will save the world from inevitable destruction, it is trying to create people who will bring more people together. So stop relying on me to fix everything. 

3)    I am going to work for Greenpeace/PITA

As I near the end of my time as an undergraduate student in university, I enter the realm of expectation I think all graduates-to-be transition into (whether we like it or not). It’s a period of your life when the apparent immaturity and carelessness of student life begins to fade and the adult you forms….As others may see it. Soon, a relentlessly annoying golden question will begin to crawl its way into your life: ‘So, what are you going to do with your (blank) degree after graduating?’

'Lets throw our hats to show how hopelessly unidirectional our lives are!'

I get it. Most people mean no harm with this question; it’s motivated by an unconscious desire to categorize and place you into a nice sounding career and/or lifestyle. You’ve just spent thousands of dollars and four years on a piece of paper, now do something with it. But it’s not that easy, and the answer, these days, won’t seem quite as sexy. In fact, there might not be an answer at all.

A large majority of my peers who have, or are about to, graduate university don’t have a very straightforward post-degree plan. Or if they do, it does not involve finding a permanent job and settling down. Contrary to this trend, I have literally had conversations with other people (sometimes other students) who have assumed I will end up working for Greenpeace when I graduate. Again, it’s that urge to find a poster child for every discipline, and then automatically tag the student to it. That way you won’t have to put any thought into the answer. Business majors have Pfizer, English majors will be teachers, and Fine Arts majors will be jobless (okay, maybe that last one is a tad bit accurate….). 

4)    I practice (inset random generic spiritual thing here)

Yoga. Meditation. Reiki. Tai Chi. Buddhism. Hoola Hooping. 

Whether I’ve practiced these things or not, it’s a bit unfair for one to assume that all Environmental Studies students know everything there is to know about vegetarianism or Jainism. It’s not like we synthesize every one of these activities by osmosis and default into Ghandi. I don’t even think I’d particularly like that. 

5)    I’m going to make you feel bad for eating that chicken. 

There is one thing I can say for sure about Environmental Studies students (at least the one’s at York), and that is there is much higher than average percentage of vegetarians in the program (I being one of them). It could be that a lot of the ideals we study foster this sense of stewardship, but then again it also gets challenged by many in our discipline at the same time. 

There’s this idea largely held by non-vegetarians that us herbivores make it our life mission to publicly shame others while they consume meat. What becomes misunderstood is that our dietary restrictions are for most of us veggies (and I hope I speak the truth on this) a personal choice. Meaning, it has nothing to do with your choices for eating meat. Meaning, you don’t have to ask us if we’re offended before you eat that leg of chicken. It’s okay, you can still be my friend.

Diagnosis: BUSHED

Have you ever started to read a book and, about three chapters in, realize that you are also playing the plot out in real life? Sometimes the right story will land in your hands and have important relevance to your life at that very moment. I have a habit of doing this.

Such was the case when, last April, I purchased Adventures in Solitude: What Not To Wear to a Nude Putluck and Other Stories from Desolation Sound by author and CBC Radio host Grant Lawrence. I figured it would be a good supplement to the trip I was about to take to the West, but wasn’t quite ready for how connected I would feel to Lawrence’s lifelong experiences in the remote Southern coastal destination of Desolation Sound. Now, I could probably write an entire post on how a dying breed of talk show hosts at CBC (Stuart McLean, George Stroumboulopoulos, Jian Ghomeshi) are carrying on the forgotten art of storytelling and proper interviews, but it’s safe to say that Grant Lawrence can be added to that list.

Lawrence’s award winning book stood out to me in one very poignant way: he framed his past at the Sound as both a physical and mental challenge, bringing to the forefront the idea that prolonged periods of isolation in sparsely populated areas can have serious psychological consequences. In fact, about half way through the book, Lawrence dives into the full details of what he refers to as ‘going bush’ (can you see the connections I’m drawing here?!?). According to the author, there are five stages of ‘going bush’: extreme loneliness; onset of depression; resentment; paranoia and eventually.....death. According to Lawrence, many individuals who lived in the Sound for years ended up committing suicide as a result of an inability to cope with ‘going bush’.

Exhibit A: Just another day in the bush.

 As I obviously have a tough time empathising with the final stage of ‘going bush’, I can certainly think of times while I was travelling that I experienced the other four to some degree. My other blog that I co-manage, Becoming Bushed, is dedicated to taking a humorous approach to the mental effects of living far away from anywhere, much like Lawrence does as he recounts his time at his father’s rustic cabin in Desolation Sound. All of this begs the question: should ‘going bush’ actually be considered a serious mental disorder?

My natural curiosity has led me to the internet, the source of all knowledge. Not surprisingly, it was difficult to find any dependable sources that would fully relate the idea of ‘going bush’ with a mental disorder, but I did find evidence of extreme isolation and social segregation which led to pre-existing mental health problems such as severe anxiety, manic depression and schizophrenia. Two major works on this topic are the books The Lonely American: Drifting Apart in the Twenty First Century (J.Olds, 2009) and From Antarctica to Outer Space: Life in Isolation and Confinement (A. Harrison, 1991). The former conducted scientific research to conclude that ‘Surprising new studies tell a grim truth about social isolation: being disconnected diminishes happiness, health, and longevity; increases aggression; and correlates with increasing rates of violent crime.’ (Olds, pg. 24). The data can be scary, but coping mechanisms exist.

In a world where the vast majority of people are moving to densely populated areas, the plight of the lonely traveller may be more pushed aside than ever. It is easy to detach yourself from friends and family back home while pursuing solitude, but it can be unhealthy at the same time. I’ve learned over my years of semi-nomadic living that it is important to always stay in tune with life outside of your immediate reality. One great way to achieve this is to start a blog, communicate with loved ones frequently, or read the news every morning. Always keep yourself and your head in check when you’re in the bush, or the bush controls you.....

Six Things I've Learned Before Turning 24

This pretty much sums it up.

Last Thursday I turned 24, and, aside from battling a minor existential crisis, I’d say it went smashingly. Celebrating your birthday in a forest a few thousand miles away from your friends and family makes for a rather unorthodox occasion, but we made the best of it and now I’m another year older (how the hell did that happen?!?).

To be honest, since the tender age of 18 I’ve sort of given up on making a huge deal out of my birthday. Maybe it’s because since then I’ve spent the majority of them away from home or maybe, deep down, it’s because I’m just not fond of marking a day that only recognizes the fact that I’m getting older. In my experience, the mantra of age vs. wisdom is largely untrue, but then again, what do I know? I’m still relatively young, aren’t I? One thing I know for sure is you never stop learning. Which leads me to my first point:

The older you get, the less you know.            

I’m a sucker for quotes, and I try not to swamp my articles in them in fear of looking completely lame, but I have to include this one from Mr. Oscar Wilde: ‘I am not young enough to know everything’. If there’s anything I’ve learned after living for 24 years, it’s that I know nothing, and I don’t mean that in the I’m-an-idiot-and-incapable-of-doing-anything sense, but more so as an ode to the 99.99999% of things in this world I have no idea even exist. If you stop asking questions, being curious, and admitting to yourself that you have an infinite amount of learning ahead of you, you’ve reached the point of ignorance. It’s a nonstop cycle of finding answers that in turn generate five times as many questions, and we’ll never be able to understand everything, but that’s what makes it so much fun. You’ll become old when you think you’ve got it all.

Your thoughts are not your own.

Okay, without getting all mystically hippie on you, I’m going to try to explain this one in common sense terms. I learned this not a year ago and it was a major part of managing the onset of depression that could have been crippling otherwise. I’ve always been under the impression that whatever was going through my head was directly related to my self, that is who I am and the true person I have become (aka my core morals, values, outside relationships, etc). So, consequently, if I was having negative thoughts, I would feel horrible all day and I’d let it get in the way of what I wanted to accomplish. On the contrary, if I was experiencing lots of happy thoughts, I’d be in a great mood and life would be all tulips and roses and freakin’ rainbows and crap. While this part was great, I’d let my thoughts totally dictate my actions because I saw no separation between the two. Not until I realized that those often uncontrollable things that are trapped in my brain are actually completely different from the rest of my body, and I can learn to step outside of them and not let it control me. Of course, I’m still working on this, and it’s not always perfect. If you get good at this, though, you’ll actually begin to feel more mentally balanced and not have such dramatic ups and downs. This can have amazing benefits to your communicative abilities and intrapersonal relationships, not to mention your self-imagine will improve dramatically.

Your fears get bigger, and more real.

Seriously, who wouldn't be terrified??

When you were a wee child, the biggest fears you encountered included the monsters under your bed or whether or not tonight’s episode of America’s Funniest Home Videos was going to be new or a repeat. While I would never want to downplay the severity of these issues (I am still pretty sure I get visited by the Mad Hatter every night), they tend to change and morph over time into things that are more tangible and equally, if not substantially more intense. Adult fears can be debilitating - fear of change, fear of being hurt, fear of rejection – and we all face a point where we either allow our fears to control us or we do something we really fear. Although it can be awesome and even life changing to face a fear, it’s so much easier to not and to exist in our own little comfort bubble. Big fears are a big part of life, and we’ve all succumbed to ours at one point or another…Because we’re human and that’s just what happens, but to not pick ourselves up again is to do something you’ll probably regret later on.

Sometimes you’re wrong, and that’s OK.

Freakin' TANNINS, Jim. That's all I'm asking for.

Being born into my family means that, purely by default, you’re as stubborn as a door knob. Stubbornness is a funny thing; it can be incredibly advantageous yet completely destructive at the same time. I’ve gotten myself into more hairy situations that I’d like to admit thanks to this sometimes less favourable quality of mine, which made this lesson hardest to swallow. Growing up in a culture that has hard-wired competition and the value of always being right deep into my bones didn’t really help either, and I know I am certainly not alone on this. Hell, I will fight something I know isn’t true just to be the one who ends up on top. One of the hardest things you may ever have to do is mutter these two simple yet oh so painful words to another person: ‘I’m wrong’. It hurts the ego, makes us feel vulnerable and ashamed, and for us men it can be 180% emasculating, but it saves relationships. I’ve almost lost some of the most important people in my life over my inability to do this. Not being OK with being wrong can lead to quarrels over the simplest and most unimportant things – who didn’t take out the trash, which direction the bus stop is and whether the tannins in a well-aged cabernet merlot contribute to sweetness or bitterness on your palate (…just me?). Next time you’re in a heated debate heading hurtful with a loved one, step aside and ask yourself: ‘Is this worth ruining our relationship over?’. Being wrong can be so, so right.

Your bandwagon gets smaller. Much smaller.

Or too big. Whatever.

There’s no two ways around it: some adult decisions can just suck. Not necessarily because the outcome will suck, but because you know there can be a big difference between the choice you want to make and the choice that other people want you to make. You see, as you grow older, the things you want may be...How do I put it...Absolutely not what other people want for you. Throw in the fact that sometimes this includes those who are very close to you, like your best friend or your parents, and things get a little more complicated. Maybe the people who have supported you over the years (possibly financially or otherwise) are also part of the group that isn’t so quick to hop on your bandwagon. This can make things substantially more complicated. Many young adults are pressured into making decisions that they ultimately don’t want, all because they just want to make someone else happy. The only problem is that (shockingly) this usually won’t make YOU happy, and now you’re stuck living out someone else’s idea of what’s right for you. To avoid this, you’ll need to understand that staying true to your own desires can and probably will upset some people who are important to you, BUT that consequence is both temporary and won’t leave you with regrets and bitterness. Which nicely takes me to my final thought...

Be selfish.

The word selfish itself has taken on a really negative connotation, when really all it’s referring to is the ability to take care of oneself before looking outwards. As I’ve stated above, you need to stay in touch with what you want, regardless of who may think otherwise. Being selfish is just a counterpart to this important lesson, and is synonymous with the idea of self care. This is law of human emotional nature: if you want to care for others, you must care for yourself first. If you want to love others, you must love yourself first. I’ve seen too many friends or coworkers who attempt to bypass this rule in blatant disregard for their own health, and it’s a one way ticket to a total mental and physical burnout. At this point, you can render yourself useless in every regard, which can have negative impacts socially, at home and at work. SO do yourself a favour and BE SELFISH once in a while; it’s really the best thing for everyone.

Six Undeniable Reasons to Travel the Alaska Highway to Whitehorse

Most people who travel Canada’s West will hang out closer to the national border, usually sticking to Vancouver Island and the coast or venturing into the ever popular Okanogan Valley for some wine and....old people? If you’ve never actually been past Prince George before, you’ll look at the mountains and think “gosh, Canada is such a beautiful, diverse country!”, or something else that’s bashfully endearing. While you wouldn’t be wrong with that sentiment, the Southern Rockies are certainly not the end-all-be-all of stunning mountain scenery and culture for us humble Canucks. Not by a long shot.

Usually, the way things tend to go when you’re travelling is that you have to make three times the effort to get to the places that make it worthwhile. Yes, Vancouver is pretty, but if you think you’ve seen Canada just because you spent a two week vacation in Whistler, you’d be quite terribly mistaken. Things become a lot more untamed after you’ve pointed yourself north, as I’ve done, and get to the Alaska Highway.

Mile 422 - Toad River Lodge

The Alaska Highway officially begins in Dawson Creek, BC (not to be confused with Dawson’s Creek, unless that show was about a group of biker outlaws fleeing a paper trail and working in an isolated industrial wasteland). This is the official ‘Mile 1’ of an ambitious project that would finally connect the Yukon and Alaska with the rest of Canada and the mainland. From Dawson Creek, the highway stretches north past Fort St. John and Fort Nelson, dotting small roadside stops on the way – each with their own unique character. A crown jewel amongst this journey, however, is Toad River Lodge, situated in between Summit Lake and Muncho Lake. The Northern Rocky Mountain Range begins to enfold you at this point, and at times it will seem as though you are a tiny spec treading through the land. Toad River Lodge is complete with a service station which boasts a collection of over 3000 hats, most of which were donated by travellers passing by. The ‘restaurant’ is usually occupied by friendly neighbours, lonesome truckers and the regularly scheduled Greyhound passengers en route to Whitehorse or somewhere in between. 

This is why their buisness is ahead.....Heheh.....

Mile 462 - Muncho Lake

A mere one hour’s drive northwest of Toad River on the Alaska Highway is Muncho Lake, the centerpiece of Muncho Lake Provincial Park. The highway will  skim the edge of the lake, an unforgettable sight as towering cliffs contrast the clear blue below. While you’ll feel dwarfed by the scenery, Muncho Lake is a place of serenity in the wild. It’s most startling attribute forms out of a special mix in natural chemicals that allow the lake’s water to appear crystal blue and translucent. This section of highway traverses the ‘Muncho Pass’, that is, the Northernmost range in the Rocky Mountains to be traversed by a highway. It is also arguably the most beautiful section of driving in BC.

 

Mile 497 - Liard River Hotsprings

Follow the Alaska Highway closer to the Yukon border and you’ll end up on the other end of the Muncho Pass, where an oasis of naturally heated spring water awaits. In Liard River Hotsprings Provincial Park, a boardwalk trail leads over a bog and into the overhanging canopy of lush boreal forest, complete with unique species of plants that are not found anywhere else in Canada. Two pools of blissfully hot water trickle into the overgrowth, creating a sanctuary for those who need a reprise from the road. You would probably forget you were in Canada if it wasn’t for the putrid smell of lingering sulfur in the air (kind of smells like rotten eggs). Nevertheless, Liard River Hotsprings are truly a must see on the Alaska Highway. 

Mile 597 – Watson Lake Signpost Forest

Watson Lake is the first real ‘town’ North of the BC/Yukon border on the Alaska Highway, and like many other roadside establishments in this end of the country, there’s not much too it. But the big claim to fame in Watson Lake is the Signpost Forest; an impressive collection of vintage licence plates, hand painted signs and road markings posted by passersby. Word on the dirt road has it a homesick U.S Army G.I by the name of Carl K. Lindley first nailed a sign in this location during the construction of the Alaska Highway in 1948 indicating the number of miles to his hometown. What Lindley didn’t know is that he would start a fad that is now well over 10, 000 signs strong. 

Mile 866 – Tagish Road to Carcross Desert

The wayward traveller is welcome to venture off the Alaska Highway and into more uncharted territory. Tagish Road, at Mile 866, is one such opportunity that reaps great rewards. Diverting an hour Southwest, Tagish Road eventually happens across the small community of Carcross, home to what many refer to as the World’s Smallest Desert. True, The Yukon Territory is probably the very, very last place you would expect to find a desert, but it’s there...All one square mile of it. The area itself was originally covered by a glacial lake, which then retreated, leaving its exposed sandy bottom behind. It was a very bad, very dirty glacier. Today, you can climb the dunes of the Carcross Desert and pretend you’re a tiny cowboy searching out the nearest scallywag for a tumble. If that’s what you’re in to. 

Mile 866 – Atlin Road

 If you’re feeling extra saucy, you can continue on past Carcross and ride South along the Klondike Highway to its terminus at Atlin, BC. Affectionately deemed The Little Switzerland of the North, Atlin is situated in the Torres Channel Mountain Pass, home to massive glaciers and gorgeous white-capped giants. The area was first occupied during the Gold Rush in 1898, but a few residents continue to live in the town year-round. If you’re searching for breathtaking scenery coupled with nature’s bounty, look no further. 

I've published a new blog!

Yeah, you heard right! Becoming Bushed is a new blog I've been working on with my partner Nikki Satira in anticipation for our departure to the West next Friday. Take a virtual bus ride, learn about Liard River and check out our bios! It's all there!

The link:

http://becomingbushed.wordpress.com/

Queen West’s Most Important Facelift

            It’s a little absurd that I’m writing this post right now. I've just finished something called an undergraduate thesis, which was the single most important project I’ve completed as a student to date. I felt like shearing my eyebrows with a potato peeler after I unglued by body from the desk in my living room; a full weekend spent on trying to make sense of all the fieldwork, researching and archiving I’ve done. The sweet sound of victory was the slapping of a 45 page report on the desk of my adviser as a great smile took over my face. I felt like I was walking up the bobsled run during the slow clap scene of Cool Runnings. 

          Despite all the pain inherent with the process, I’m about to write a freakin’ post on it, because it’s really important, and hey, eyebrows only express emotions. Admittedly, doing research on one of the biggest mental health organizations in Canada like the Centre for Addictions and Mental Health (CAMH) was a little more than intimidating. I wasn’t always treated like someone worth talking to, or even responding to after dozens of phone calls and emails. I managed to leverage my previous experience in the field to access the right people, especially after I mentioned that I had fund raised over $9600 for their hospital last summer (tis a story for another time).

The original Provincial Lunatic Asylum ca.1867

            If you know anything about the history of Queen Street West in Toronto, you’ll be familiar with the old insane asylum at 999. The institution is over 150 years old and has seen the worst side of mental illness, beginning with its inception as the Provincial Lunatic Asylum in 1850. Traditionally, if you had (or were suspected of having) a mental illness during this time, you would have been sent here and forcefully put behind a wall to carry out your life, usually on an indefinite basis. This negative treatment led to one of the worst stigmatization's to ever be placed on a marginalized population. 

            Although the original massive Victorian facility has been torn down, in its place a decrepit residential hospital continues to treat clients. The old buildings that were a product of modernist thought in the 60’s do not match the quality and quantity of care that is required for psychiatric patients in the 21^st century. In response to this issue, CAMH launched an ambitious project in 2004 to change both the reality of the programs and the (mostly inaccurate) ideas we attach to mental illness. Dubbed Changing Lives, its most courageous feat will be the complete redevelopment of the hospital, which changed addresses in the mid 1900’s to 1001 Queen Street West.

The Queen West Mental Health Centre during its first redevelopment in the early 1960's

           Today, if you walk along the South side of Queen at Ossington, you will find yourself smack in the middle of construction. That’s because CAMH is loud and proud in every sense, including the fact that their new facilities will snuggle up to curbside, becoming not so easily ignorable anymore. But the site is still very much cut off from the rest of the city; the boundary wall still exists on three of its four edges, and the privatization of space for the incorporation of big box stores like the wonderful Shoppers Drug Mart might deter the avaunt-garde independent crowd that floods street level daily. Bland corporate logos and tampered photos of kids playing soccer splurged across storefront doesn’t really scream ‘window shopping’ to me.

Looking North to the construction of CAMH's new front door: The Bell Gateway Research Centre

           The idea, though, is to create a ‘socially inclusive space’ where members of the community and patients at CAMH can mingle, providing face to face interaction and slowly removing the stereotype that works against those suffering from a mental illness and/or addition. The addition of a new client-run café and gym are all part of this, and the opening up of campus by extending Ossington to Adelaide is supposed to increase foot traffic and eliminate the physiological barrier which has created a vacuum for so many years.

The future of Mental Health?

            But a stigma is exactly that – something that has been created over time and is deeply entrenched in our attitudes and behaviors. Merely changing the physical fabric of a space isn’t going to reverse this, nor is it going to collectively transition society into being more inclusive. If CAMH is to achieve this vision, it will have to make an effort beyond the redevelopment to create a more educated public perspective. An ‘urban village’ at 1001 Queen Street West actually makes sense if you couple it with the engagement and awareness that psychiatric patients have something to offer and should be accepted as functional members of society. The fact that they aren’t is a problem that CAMH will have to tackle from many different angles, or the history of the site will continue to predict what we see there and not what it could be. 

*Photos taken from the Toronto Public Library Archives and the CAMH Website.

Expect the Unexpected in Canada’s Northwest

            Fifty years ago, a pilgrimage of sorts made its way beyond the large settlements of the border-lying cities in Alberta and British Columba and into the ‘bush’ that was Northwestern Canada. It was a ‘back-to-the-land’ movement that sparked many young urbanites to completely change their way of life. The idea was to find open land, stake a claim and live from your immediate environment. In those days, any unmarked land owned by the government (or ‘crown land’) was free for the taking at a very minimal one-time payment. Dozens of ‘hippies’ from all over North America found their way to places like Watson Lake and Stewart Crossing, settling on the outskirts of a small town and gathering in groups to celebrate a new connection with earth.

           Many of the young adventurers followed in the footsteps of those who had frantically made their way along the dangerous route to Dawson City during the infamous ‘Gold Rush’ of 1889. The challenges of subsisting on land that experienced eight months of frigid winter with only two hours of sunlight in peak cold season would have pushed these squatters to their limits, testing their ability to survive in such extreme environments. The North is a stunningly beautiful place, but it can also be your worst enemy if you aren’t prepared.

            Today, not a lot of physical evidence from this brief era of nomads is left behind. Many grew tired of the isolation that was inherent to living in such conditions and moved to Whitehorse or Dawson Creek to find a steady income and permanent residence. But the legend of these areas continues to inspire many a traveller to stray from the beaten path and experience the awesome landscapes and cultures of Canada’s Northwest. I have been fortunate enough to have had a taste of the true North while I was living in Whitehorse during summer 2010. I travelled to the Alaskan Peninsula, Dawson City, tripped up the Dempster Highway through Tombstone Territorial Park and into the Arctic Tundra, and visited many incredible places in Northern British Columbia. But I left feeling a sense of wanderlust; I had seen so much, yet not nearly enough. 

Dawson City at midnight.

           So I’m going back. But I’m raising the stakes: Instead of existing in the comforts of a tourist capitol with a Wal Mart and Starbucks, I’m living in a cabin with my amazing partner Nikki Satira, inside the Liard River Hot Springs Provincial Park Campground, where I’ll also be working and using as a sort of ‘home base’. The park is located four hours from the closest major city (Fort Nelson) and has no cell phone access or grocery store (go ahead, Google Map it!). Lucky for us, our cabin is complete with internet, so I’ll be blogging during the entire trip here and on a new blog I’m launching in about a week with Nikki! Stay tuned for more details over the course of the next month. Our official departure date from Toronto is April 27^th, returning in early September for a final year at university. It’s time to make some big changes, people!

Safe travels,

Aaron Turpin