Outpost Mountain, Yukon
Gallery / Current Painting
Acrylic on Canvas
48" x 48"
This painting shows the iconic view seen from the base camp of the Arctic Institute of North America, Kluane Research Centre, Yukon Territory.
One day, upon the advice of the Arctic Institute staff, four artists hired a helicopter to take us to the top of this mountain for an adventurous painting excursion.
There we were - four girls, no compass, no real sense of direction, but we were assured by the heli staff that it would be easy enough to make our way down the mountain at day’s end. The heli staff advised us as follows:
“Just turn left at the fifth pond where the helicopter drops you. Then head down that creek bed you’ll find there. 0h, and here’s a two-way radio in case you need to reach us”. (The two-way radio didn’t work once we attempted to use it!)
Well, at day’s end we hiked and we hiked, keeping count of the numerous ponds and the grizzly bear scat as we went. It was finally late in the afternoon. It was hot, we were tired, and things got worse. We were lost. Confusion ensued as to whether we had passed four or FIVE ponds. The decision was made to follow the next creek bed on the left.
At first, with forced bravado, we sang and made lots of noise to alert the grizzly bear population of our presence. However, it wasn’t long before we were entangled in 300-year-old-willow scrub and bigger and bigger rocks and boulders along the creek bed that we needed to maneuver.
We fought this ever-decreasing and rigorous trail for a long time. Eventually, I stumbled and fell hard amid the boulders, knocking myself nearly unconscious. To their credit, every one of my three loyal friends promised that they would not leave me that night, that they would stay with me overnight! That was indeed a brave promise, considering we were stranded on a wilderness mountain with nightfall fast approaching and in grizzly bear habitat.
I lay amid the rocks for a while trying to get my bearings. Finally, I thought I heard the rotor blades of the helicopter! My colleagues gently doubted me and thought I was hallucinating but I begged them to concentrate on listening for the sound. Sure enough, the sound got louder and louder. Hallelujah!!
I suggested to my friends that they spread their colourful nylon jackets on the ground in a compact pattern to try to attract the helicopter pilot’s attention.
It worked! Before too long, we knew that the pilot had spotted us. We definitely heard the sound of the helicopter circling our area. Nervously counting the minutes, we finally welcomed the sight of the pilot and his copilot come crashing through the heavy underbrush to find us.
We were carefully guided out of the dense and rocky creekbed and down the mountain to the site where our brave aviators had made a very dangerous forced helicopter landing in order to rescue us.
We were subsequently flown safely back to our base camp, where we were welcomed by the relieved staff, and where we got a whole lot of good-natured ribbing while I received some minor first aid for a bump on my head and a nasty gash on my arm. And yup, I can still show off my souvenir scar!