Eagle Plains, Yukon Territory, Canada
(Located at the midway point of the Dempster Highway)
August 30, 2001

I'll be leaving shortly to head down the rest of the Dempster Highway and return to Dawson City late this afternoon. Yesterday, just before crossing from the Northwest Territories into the Yukon, I stopped at James Creek which runs crossways to the road. The Milepost guidebook promised good fishing here. I passed it on my way north because I didn't have a Northwest Territories fishing license at that time.

James Creek is certainly a creek and not a river. It has clear waterpools which at first looked empty. Then I saw the rainbow trout hovering within them, waiting for me and the proper selection of tackle. It took several tries for me to find the right combination and it was maddening, watching these nice sized fish swim around but ignore every offering I made.

Eventually, settling on my Eagle Claw spinning rod with a Mepps Blue Fury 1 lure, I caught the interest of an 11" rainbow trout. The second one I caught was slightly larger at 12" long. I had enough for a good meal and didn't want to risk
unsuccessfully releasing any other catches. Preparing to gut and clean the fish, I thought it would be fun to sit at the side of the creek and watch the other fish that I didn't catch, swim from one pool to another. I was also conscious of
wanting to save some fish for the next person and their next meal.

I was reaching into the back of the Pathfinder for my filet knife when a taxi slowed on the road above, watching me. Taxis are quite common up north in small towns where it doesn't make sense to own a car. This one had come a long way.

A few minutes later the taxi came back over the bridge, then turned off and headed toward me. I expected it to come around the corner but it didn't. I wasn't entirely concerned, but I felt cautious, vaguely wondering if someone was going to ambush me.

And then it emerged from around the bushes, parking nearby. But it wasn't a man who stepped out, it was a woman in her late twenties. I waved hello. Shyly, she came over and asked about the fishing. I told her. And then she explained that she'd dropped some students off in the field down the road so they could pick berries. But she was here to do some fishing and took a rod out of the trunk of her car.   

I suppose I should have talked to her some more after I showed her the lure I was using,and where the fish were located. I'd already mentioned that I was traveling alone through the country. She was even kind enough to take my picture with the fish I'd caught. But I assumed that like myself, she didn't necessarily desire company. I wanted to give her some room.

After cleaning my fish downstream, I left, saying goodbye then waving once more as I passed over the creek on my way south. I didn't know if she'd notice, but she waved goodbye. And I hope that like myself, she had fresh trout for dinner.

Eagle Plains has a population of 18, though it's really just a gas station, motel and campground. And the latter is merely a gravel parking lot. It's cold and windy here, being at the top of a mountain. But I knew it was a promising location to see the Northern Lights. The sun set last night around 10 p.m. and several hours later it became dark. I left my contact lenses in and curled up in the sleeping bag, waking every hour or so to look out the window. The clouds had drifted off and the sky was clear, but no lights appeared. At one point I looked out the window and still nothing. I was adjusting the position of the sleeping bag when something caught my eye.

I looked outside and saw a white carpet of light sweep across the sky. It was the Northern Lights! I jumped out of the truck, my head turning as I followed their movement from the west toward the east. Sheets of white light appeared to dance thirty feet above me. I could almost reach out and grab them.

Soon, the cold became too much. It was nearly 2:30 in the morning and I got back in the truck, into my sleeping bag and watched the lights through the window. Slowly, my eyes began to close. And then I was asleep.