2

Alice Angus

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11

Diary 4(Waiting bySheep Creek)

Waiting by the Creek

Introduction

In the summer of 2003 I spent several weeks inthe Northern Yukon, began a collaboration withJoyce Majiski (artist and guide) and participatedin a residency in Ivvavik National Park in thenorthwestern Arctic. This eBook is one of a seriesfrom the sketchbooks of that journey.

Traces

From the air, and in the imaginations of thetemperate zone the land of Ivvavik, the Arctictaiga and tundra, seems a frozen desert of heathof scrub, rock and earth. But landing at thejunction of Sheep Creek and the Firth River wesee tussocks of grass and wild flowers rise fromthe valley floor. Islands of colour, embroideredcushions with succulent jewel like plants,luminescent mosses, ferns and vibrant wildflowersare miniature raised gardens of Babylon, othersare spiky like curled up hedgehogs or mosscushioned stepping stones over boggy groundbetween caribou trails. The arctic summer is soshort and the sunlight so intense that life burstsinto being. Inhuman quantities of mosquitoes andother bugs swarm around us, feeding the birdpopulation whilst tormenting the larger mammals.On arid ochre hills shimmering in a heat haze thearctic poppy follows the suns path gathering heat,moss campion bursts between rocks and cottongrass shudders in the wind. Though life is fragileit is also tenacious and, at this time of year,abundant yet the language of the north I grew upwith tells of a place of desolation but if you knowwhere to look, the legends desolation fall away.

Tracks and Trails

Out on the land there are larger traces of life;ghostly tracks of caribou in their thousands, aDalls sheep shimmers in the distance, porcupineshuffles in the trees and fox scavenges what hecan find. Stuck in the pine pitch is a wisp ofgrizzly hair marking the scratching post with an "Iwas here". Local stories and archaeologies wouldtell you where trappers, and travellers had walkedand hunters waited.

Time and Tide

There is the bleached wooden handle of a shovel,a rusty sieve and a tatty old boot, a stake driveninto the ground, the fading detritus of a harshnorthern mining claim. Across the breeze thereare the stories of the nomadic people andtravellers that criss crossed the land and waybefore that the ancient people that came fromAsia. Im told there is still gold in these hills. TheJapanese prospector and musher Junchiro Wadawas one who came to stake a claim not far fromhere, about a hundred years ago. (1)

Wada trekked the long route route up to theKlondyke the thence north via the Firth River andway up to the Beaufort Sea and Herschel Islandthrough the darkness and harsh winter. Centuriesearlier explorers had landed on the East Coastbringing smallpox to the people of Canada andand later, long distance whaling ships camearound the north coast, unwittingly carryingdevastating disease to the people of the arctic.Whilst Wada chased Gold from the Klondyke tothe Arctic, much further south another wave ofmigration pushed over Canada; some must havebeen driven by greed, but others by hope of a lifebetter than the poverty they left in inhumanfactories and crowded cities and some wereforced to emigrate as the bleak story of theBritish Home Children will testify. Nearly 100,000children as young as 3 were subject tocompulsory deportation and sent alone toCanada, by religious and charitable organisations,many became indentured farm labourers. (2)

So waves of migrations continued to come overthe land and sea bringing new religions, laws andlanguage.

The first Transcontinental Train arrives, from theAtlantic, at the Pacific Coast, stopping at PortArthur on June 30, 1886.

High up under crumbling tors and hidden by aheat haze I see the Dall's Sheep. Far away like adream remembered it stands for a momentsensing my presence then turns back into itsworld.

The fox in the city slips from bin to bin, house tohouse in the semi silence of night. Sometimes helives in the center of the metropolis, so far fromsuburbia and so deeply in the city' no-one wouldexpect to see him, so we think it was a large dog.He is camouflaged by our expectations.

References.

1. Jujiro Wadahttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jujiro_Wada

2. Child Migrant Trusthttp://www.childmigrantstrust.com/Index.htm

3. Image source,http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Image:

CPPacific.jpg#filehistory

4

Diary 4 (Waiting by Sheep Creek)Alice Anguscreated on: Fri Oct 19 08:08:26 2007

www.diffusion.org.ukDIFFUSION eBooks are designed to be freelyavailable to download, print out and share.

319

Diary 4(Waiting bySheep Creek)

Waiting by the Creek

Introduction

In the summer of 2003 I spent several weeks inthe Northern Yukon, began a collaboration withJoyce Majiski (artist and guide) and participatedin a residency in Ivvavik National Park in thenorthwestern Arctic. This eBook is one of a seriesfrom the sketchbooks of that journey.

Traces

From the air, and in the imaginations of thetemperate zone the land of Ivvavik, the Arctictaiga and tundra, seems a frozen desert of heathof scrub, rock and earth. But landing at thejunction of Sheep Creek and the Firth River wesee tussocks of grass and wild flowers rise fromthe valley floor. Islands of colour, embroideredcushions with succulent jewel like plants,luminescent mosses, ferns and vibrant wildflowersare miniature raised gardens of Babylon, othersare spiky like curled up hedgehogs or mosscushioned stepping stones over boggy groundbetween caribou trails. The arctic summer is soshort and the sunlight so intense that life burstsinto being. Inhuman quantities of mosquitoes andother bugs swarm around us, feeding the birdpopulation whilst tormenting the larger mammals.On arid ochre hills shimmering in a heat haze thearctic poppy follows the suns path gathering heat,moss campion bursts between rocks and cottongrass shudders in the wind. Though life is fragileit is also tenacious and, at this time of year,abundant yet the language of the north I grew upwith tells of a place of desolation but if you knowwhere to look, the legends desolation fall away.

Tracks and Trails

Out on the land there are larger traces of life;ghostly tracks of caribou in their thousands, aDalls sheep shimmers in the distance, porcupineshuffles in the trees and fox scavenges what hecan find. Stuck in the pine pitch is a wisp ofgrizzly hair marking the scratching post with an "Iwas here". Local stories and archaeologies wouldtell you where trappers, and travellers had walkedand hunters waited.

Time and Tide

There is the bleached wooden handle of a shovel,a rusty sieve and a tatty old boot, a stake driveninto the ground, the fading detritus of a harshnorthern mining claim. Across the breeze thereare the stories of the nomadic people andtravellers that criss crossed the land and waybefore that the ancient people that came fromAsia. Im told there is still gold in these hills. TheJapanese prospector and musher Junchiro Wadawas one who came to stake a claim not far fromhere, about a hundred years ago. (1)

Wada trekked the long route route up to theKlondyke the thence north via the Firth River andway up to the Beaufort Sea and Herschel Islandthrough the darkness and harsh winter. Centuriesearlier explorers had landed on the East Coastbringing smallpox to the people of Canada andand later, long distance whaling ships camearound the north coast, unwittingly carryingdevastating disease to the people of the arctic.Whilst Wada chased Gold from the Klondyke tothe Arctic, much further south another wave ofmigration pushed over Canada; some must havebeen driven by greed, but others by hope of a lifebetter than the poverty they left in inhumanfactories and crowded cities and some wereforced to emigrate as the bleak story of theBritish Home Children will testify. Nearly 100,000children as young as 3 were subject tocompulsory deportation and sent alone toCanada, by religious and charitable organisations,many became indentured farm labourers. (2)

So waves of migrations continued to come overthe land and sea bringing new religions, laws andlanguage.

The first Transcontinental Train arrives, from theAtlantic, at the Pacific Coast, stopping at PortArthur on June 30, 1886.

High up under crumbling tors and hidden by aheat haze I see the Dall's Sheep. Far away like adream remembered it stands for a momentsensing my presence then turns back into itsworld.

The fox in the city slips from bin to bin, house tohouse in the semi silence of night. Sometimes helives in the center of the metropolis, so far fromsuburbia and so deeply in the city' no-one wouldexpect to see him, so we think it was a large dog.He is camouflaged by our expectations.

References.

1. Jujiro Wadahttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jujiro_Wada

2. Child Migrant Trusthttp://www.childmigrantstrust.com/Index.htm

3. Image source,http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Image:

CPPacific.jpg#filehistory

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5

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Diary 4(Waiting bySheep Creek)

Waiting by the Creek

Introduction

In the summer of 2003 I spent several weeks inthe Northern Yukon, began a collaboration withJoyce Majiski (artist and guide) and participatedin a residency in Ivvavik National Park in thenorthwestern Arctic. This eBook is one of a seriesfrom the sketchbooks of that journey.

Traces

From the air, and in the imaginations of thetemperate zone the land of Ivvavik, the Arctictaiga and tundra, seems a frozen desert of heathof scrub, rock and earth. But landing at thejunction of Sheep Creek and the Firth River wesee tussocks of grass and wild flowers rise fromthe valley floor. Islands of colour, embroideredcushions with succulent jewel like plants,luminescent mosses, ferns and vibrant wildflowersare miniature raised gardens of Babylon, othersare spiky like curled up hedgehogs or mosscushioned stepping stones over boggy groundbetween caribou trails. The arctic summer is soshort and the sunlight so intense that life burstsinto being. Inhuman quantities of mosquitoes andother bugs swarm around us, feeding the birdpopulation whilst tormenting the larger mammals.On arid ochre hills shimmering in a heat haze thearctic poppy follows the suns path gathering heat,moss campion bursts between rocks and cottongrass shudders in the wind. Though life is fragileit is also tenacious and, at this time of year,abundant yet the language of the north I grew upwith tells of a place of desolation but if you knowwhere to look, the legends desolation fall away.

Tracks and Trails

Out on the land there are larger traces of life;ghostly tracks of caribou in their thousands, aDalls sheep shimmers in the distance, porcupineshuffles in the trees and fox scavenges what hecan find. Stuck in the pine pitch is a wisp ofgrizzly hair marking the scratching post with an "Iwas here". Local stories and archaeologies wouldtell you where trappers, and travellers had walkedand hunters waited.

Time and Tide

There is the bleached wooden handle of a shovel,a rusty sieve and a tatty old boot, a stake driveninto the ground, the fading detritus of a harshnorthern mining claim. Across the breeze thereare the stories of the nomadic people andtravellers that criss crossed the land and waybefore that the ancient people that came fromAsia. Im told there is still gold in these hills. TheJapanese prospector and musher Junchiro Wadawas one who came to stake a claim not far fromhere, about a hundred years ago. (1)

Wada trekked the long route route up to theKlondyke the thence north via the Firth River andway up to the Beaufort Sea and Herschel Islandthrough the darkness and harsh winter. Centuriesearlier explorers had landed on the East Coastbringing smallpox to the people of Canada andand later, long distance whaling ships camearound the north coast, unwittingly carryingdevastating disease to the people of the arctic.Whilst Wada chased Gold from the Klondyke tothe Arctic, much further south another wave ofmigration pushed over Canada; some must havebeen driven by greed, but others by hope of a lifebetter than the poverty they left in inhumanfactories and crowded cities and some wereforced to emigrate as the bleak story of theBritish Home Children will testify. Nearly 100,000children as young as 3 were subject tocompulsory deportation and sent alone toCanada, by religious and charitable organisations,many became indentured farm labourers. (2)

So waves of migrations continued to come overthe land and sea bringing new religions, laws andlanguage.

The first Transcontinental Train arrives, from theAtlantic, at the Pacific Coast, stopping at PortArthur on June 30, 1886.

High up under crumbling tors and hidden by aheat haze I see the Dall's Sheep. Far away like adream remembered it stands for a momentsensing my presence then turns back into itsworld.

The fox in the city slips from bin to bin, house tohouse in the semi silence of night. Sometimes helives in the center of the metropolis, so far fromsuburbia and so deeply in the city' no-one wouldexpect to see him, so we think it was a large dog.He is camouflaged by our expectations.

References.

1. Jujiro Wadahttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jujiro_Wada

2. Child Migrant Trusthttp://www.childmigrantstrust.com/Index.htm

3. Image source,http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Image:

CPPacific.jpg#filehistory

8

7

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Diary 4(Waiting bySheep Creek)

Waiting by the Creek

Introduction

In the summer of 2003 I spent several weeks inthe Northern Yukon, began a collaboration withJoyce Majiski (artist and guide) and participatedin a residency in Ivvavik National Park in thenorthwestern Arctic. This eBook is one of a seriesfrom the sketchbooks of that journey.

Traces

From the air, and in the imaginations of thetemperate zone the land of Ivvavik, the Arctictaiga and tundra, seems a frozen desert of heathof scrub, rock and earth. But landing at thejunction of Sheep Creek and the Firth River wesee tussocks of grass and wild flowers rise fromthe valley floor. Islands of colour, embroideredcushions with succulent jewel like plants,luminescent mosses, ferns and vibrant wildflowersare miniature raised gardens of Babylon, othersare spiky like curled up hedgehogs or mosscushioned stepping stones over boggy groundbetween caribou trails. The arctic summer is soshort and the sunlight so intense that life burstsinto being. Inhuman quantities of mosquitoes andother bugs swarm around us, feeding the birdpopulation whilst tormenting the larger mammals.On arid ochre hills shimmering in a heat haze thearctic poppy follows the suns path gathering heat,moss campion bursts between rocks and cottongrass shudders in the wind. Though life is fragileit is also tenacious and, at this time of year,abundant yet the language of the north I grew upwith tells of a place of desolation but if you knowwhere to look, the legends desolation fall away.

Tracks and Trails

Out on the land there are larger traces of life;ghostly tracks of caribou in their thousands, aDalls sheep shimmers in the distance, porcupineshuffles in the trees and fox scavenges what hecan find. Stuck in the pine pitch is a wisp ofgrizzly hair marking the scratching post with an "Iwas here". Local stories and archaeologies wouldtell you where trappers, and travellers had walkedand hunters waited.

Time and Tide

There is the bleached wooden handle of a shovel,a rusty sieve and a tatty old boot, a stake driveninto the ground, the fading detritus of a harshnorthern mining claim. Across the breeze thereare the stories of the nomadic people andtravellers that criss crossed the land and waybefore that the ancient people that came fromAsia. Im told there is still gold in these hills. TheJapanese prospector and musher Junchiro Wadawas one who came to stake a claim not far fromhere, about a hundred years ago. (1)

Wada trekked the long route route up to theKlondyke the thence north via the Firth River andway up to the Beaufort Sea and Herschel Islandthrough the darkness and harsh winter. Centuriesearlier explorers had landed on the East Coastbringing smallpox to the people of Canada andand later, long distance whaling ships camearound the north coast, unwittingly carryingdevastating disease to the people of the arctic.Whilst Wada chased Gold from the Klondyke tothe Arctic, much further south another wave ofmigration pushed over Canada; some must havebeen driven by greed, but others by hope of a lifebetter than the poverty they left in inhumanfactories and crowded cities and some wereforced to emigrate as the bleak story of theBritish Home Children will testify. Nearly 100,000children as young as 3 were subject tocompulsory deportation and sent alone toCanada, by religious and charitable organisations,many became indentured farm labourers. (2)

So waves of migrations continued to come overthe land and sea bringing new religions, laws andlanguage.

The first Transcontinental Train arrives, from theAtlantic, at the Pacific Coast, stopping at PortArthur on June 30, 1886.

High up under crumbling tors and hidden by aheat haze I see the Dall's Sheep. Far away like adream remembered it stands for a momentsensing my presence then turns back into itsworld.

The fox in the city slips from bin to bin, house tohouse in the semi silence of night. Sometimes helives in the center of the metropolis, so far fromsuburbia and so deeply in the city' no-one wouldexpect to see him, so we think it was a large dog.He is camouflaged by our expectations.

References.

1. Jujiro Wadahttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jujiro_Wada

2. Child Migrant Trusthttp://www.childmigrantstrust.com/Index.htm

3. Image source,http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Image:

CPPacific.jpg#filehistory

10

9

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13

Diary 4(Waiting bySheep Creek)

Waiting by the Creek

Introduction

In the summer of 2003 I spent several weeks inthe Northern Yukon, began a collaboration withJoyce Majiski (artist and guide) and participatedin a residency in Ivvavik National Park in thenorthwestern Arctic. This eBook is one of a seriesfrom the sketchbooks of that journey.

Traces

From the air, and in the imaginations of thetemperate zone the land of Ivvavik, the Arctictaiga and tundra, seems a frozen desert of heathof scrub, rock and earth. But landing at thejunction of Sheep Creek and the Firth River wesee tussocks of grass and wild flowers rise fromthe valley floor. Islands of colour, embroideredcushions with succulent jewel like plants,luminescent mosses, ferns and vibrant wildflowersare miniature raised gardens of Babylon, othersare spiky like curled up hedgehogs or mosscushioned stepping stones over boggy groundbetween caribou trails. The arctic summer is soshort and the sunlight so intense that life burstsinto being. Inhuman quantities of mosquitoes andother bugs swarm around us, feeding the birdpopulation whilst tormenting the larger mammals.On arid ochre hills shimmering in a heat haze thearctic poppy follows the suns path gathering heat,moss campion bursts between rocks and cottongrass shudders in the wind. Though life is fragileit is also tenacious and, at this time of year,abundant yet the language of the north I grew upwith tells of a place of desolation but if you knowwhere to look, the legends desolation fall away.

Tracks and Trails

Out on the land there are larger traces of life;ghostly tracks of caribou in their thousands, aDalls sheep shimmers in the distance, porcupineshuffles in the trees and fox scavenges what hecan find. Stuck in the pine pitch is a wisp ofgrizzly hair marking the scratching post with an "Iwas here". Local stories and archaeologies wouldtell you where trappers, and travellers had walkedand hunters waited.

Time and Tide

There is the bleached wooden handle of a shovel,a rusty sieve and a tatty old boot, a stake driveninto the ground, the fading detritus of a harshnorthern mining claim. Across the breeze thereare the stories of the nomadic people andtravellers that criss crossed the land and waybefore that the ancient people that came fromAsia. Im told there is still gold in these hills. TheJapanese prospector and musher Junchiro Wadawas one who came to stake a claim not far fromhere, about a hundred years ago. (1)

Wada trekked the long route route up to theKlondyke the thence north via the Firth River andway up to the Beaufort Sea and Herschel Islandthrough the darkness and harsh winter. Centuriesearlier explorers had landed on the East Coastbringing smallpox to the people of Canada andand later, long distance whaling ships camearound the north coast, unwittingly carryingdevastating disease to the people of the arctic.Whilst Wada chased Gold from the Klondyke tothe Arctic, much further south another wave ofmigration pushed over Canada; some must havebeen driven by greed, but others by hope of a lifebetter than the poverty they left in inhumanfactories and crowded cities and some wereforced to emigrate as the bleak story of theBritish Home Children will testify. Nearly 100,000children as young as 3 were subject tocompulsory deportation and sent alone toCanada, by religious and charitable organisations,many became indentured farm labourers. (2)

So waves of migrations continued to come overthe land and sea bringing new religions, laws andlanguage.

The first Transcontinental Train arrives, from theAtlantic, at the Pacific Coast, stopping at PortArthur on June 30, 1886.

High up under crumbling tors and hidden by aheat haze I see the Dall's Sheep. Far away like adream remembered it stands for a momentsensing my presence then turns back into itsworld.

The fox in the city slips from bin to bin, house tohouse in the semi silence of night. Sometimes helives in the center of the metropolis, so far fromsuburbia and so deeply in the city' no-one wouldexpect to see him, so we think it was a large dog.He is camouflaged by our expectations.

References.

1. Jujiro Wadahttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jujiro_Wada

2. Child Migrant Trusthttp://www.childmigrantstrust.com/Index.htm

3. Image source,http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Image:

CPPacific.jpg#filehistory