"yellowknife?! you know it's february right...?" we knew. in fact, it was another driving force behind our (my) desire. wednesday morning, jen and i woke up and scrambled to get downtown early before work because in 48 hours we would be touching down where arctic clothing programs aren't just a fashion, but a way of life. the forecasted lows hovered around -31 degrees celsius with winds of 20-30 knots a constant over the few nights we'd be outside standing still, creating neck pains you can only understand from personal experience. we both needed to outfit ourselves for winter, and a mid-weight jacket and jeans weren't going to cut it. unless your name is jason pineau, and you live in yellowknife flying for air tindi. just sayin', jason.
when we touched down on a snow-packed runway in yellowknife, i felt my heart sink immediately. visibility was maybe two miles, there was blowing snow, and it was overcast at less than a thousand feet. but we were going to see the northern lights. the forecast on my iphone said so. i had eight weather apps on my iphone, and one of them was calling for clear skies in the evening. so i deleted the other seven. i saw what i wanted to see, and we believe it.
well when the dull grey overcast skies started to crack just before twilight, and there were now defined clouds, as much as we loved being out on the frozen lake, our tummies were grumbling over the sound of five feet deep ice cracking, so we spent $86 (ask what the market price of arctic char is before you order) on fish & chips at bullocks bistro. and when we came out, ohh, when we came outside again... wait until you see what's in store next...
jen's eyelashes froze. as did both of our nose hairs. and we try not to tell the story of the wind blowing snot out of my nose, and onto my jacket which it froze instantaneously to.