Yellowknife is a magical place where the sun is shining late into the night. There aren’t many places you can play cards in a tent until 2:30 in the morning without a flashlight.
Something else extraordinary was happening: my fluorescent skin was beginning to look like a normal human being’s. Tanned even! I didn’t realize if I ever wanted some colour, all I had to do was drive 18 hours north.
The bugs accompanied me everywhere, serenading me with the song of their people. By this point on the trip I had become accustomed to my new perfume: eau de bugspray. My scent prevented the frighteningly large insects from carrying me away.
One of the main reasons Yellowknife became our destination was the Summer Solstice Festival. The event was mentioned in all the tour guide books, listed on all the websites, but do you think we could find anyone who knew what we were talking about?
Even the tourism centre had little to no information on this so called “Summer Solstice Festival.” Fine.
At least we could still go fishing.
I knew I was in for a different fishing experience when our bait was about the size of the fish I was used to catching. The last time I went fishing I almost fell out of the canoe and into the lake when I hooked a small bass. The last time my mother went she did fall in the lake, twice. My friend had never gone fishing.
We hopped from lake, to river, to lake. Finally the sun began to set, and all we had caught were weeds. I cast my line into the water one last time when...a bite!
An epic battle of woman versus beast began and chaos broke out in the dock, much to the entertainment of some local fishermen. As I slowly reeled in my catch, we saw it was a six foot pike.
OK, it wasn’t six feet. But its teeth were! My mother fetched my fish from the lake with her bare hands. What are moms for?
In true tourist style, I clutched the pike close to my body and cradled it like an infant. My very own pike baby.
When everyone had finished posing with the fish, I gave my friend the honour of releasing the majestic creature back into the wild. She held the fish gently in her hands, looking down at it tenderly. Then to our horror she proceeded to fling the fish with full force into the lake.
The fish hit the water with a traumatic splash about eight feet from the dock.
“That fish is going to need therapy,” remarked one of the fishermen, who had erupted with laughter.
I looked down at my navy blue sweater to see I was covered in a thick layer of pike slime. Or should I say, a thick layer of glory. My pride of the first catch didn’t last very long, when not two minutes later my mother hooked a fish over twice the size of mine.
As she proudly held her prize catch, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her give my camera such a big smile.
Sadly not long after we arrived in Yellowknife we had to say goodbye. Driving along just outside of the capital city, we were greeted by the perfect farewell party: a herd of about 40 bison.
We were surrounded on the highway and time seemed to stand still as they lazily sauntered along. Some seemed to be bigger than my car, and were accompanied by several frolicking babies.
With the Northwest Territories growing smaller in my rearview mirror, I could humbly add another part of this beautiful country to my ever-growing collection of fond travel memories.
