Here's Elizabeth Hay, author of Late Nights On Air (please click link), on the second stop of her blog tour...
May 2/08. Whitehorse, Yukon.
Ensconced in the Baked Café on Main Street. Excellent coffee and scones, my favourite being their cranberry-coconut. This is a lively café, almost too warm, with big windows that
overlook the incredibly wide streets of Whitehorse. Yesterday we walked on top of the fragile, crumbling bluffs that give a view of the city, strangely new-looking for a town that’s over a
hundred years old. Underfoot dry, sparse vegetation of moss, heather, the occasional crocus. Down below, the townsite next to the winding Yukon River. In the distance, snowy
mountains.
Wednesday night, as part of the Yukon Writers’ Festival, six of us did a reading in the fossil museum on the outskirts of town. One of the most entertaining literary evenings I’ve ever
been part of. Ivan Coyote led off with a spellbinding story about her father giving up drink; Kevin Chong obsessed about Neil Young; Jon Turk took his broken pelvis to a shaman in
Siberia; Robert Priest in a migraine-haze performed the most playful poems; Jerome Stueart moved us into science fiction; I brought us back north with something from the canoe trip in
Late Nights on Air.
Last night I did a reading in Tagish, an hour’s drive from here. More talk than reading. It was in the little library, smaller than the thrift store in the next room, both of them under the
roof of the community centre. I love these out-of-the-way events. They take me back to my small-town childhood and I feel comfortable with the scale of things. Yesterday I also signed
books in Mac’s Fireweed Bookstore in Whitehorse, where the manager told me spiritual books are in highest demand. Summer tourism isn’t yet underway, but once it is Germans will
arrive in great numbers on the weekly charter that flies directly between Whitehorse and Frankfurt. They come with their passion for the wilderness and the writer Jack London.
Driving back from Tagish last night, we were in beautiful, beautiful country – open rivers, half-frozen lakes, mountains in the near distance. As we crossed the bridge over the Tagish
River, a bald eagle flew over the car.
Tomorrow we go to Haines Junction. Next week we’ll be in Mayo, Dawson, Carmacks and Teslin. Leading the way in every instance is Lori Schroeder, the public librarian in Whitehorse
and the wonderful brains behind this whole operation. She keeps her head warm under a Norwegian knitted hat with long earlugs that reminds me of the wigs judges used to wear in
court.
--Elizabeth Hay
May 2/08. Whitehorse, Yukon.
Ensconced in the Baked Café on Main Street. Excellent coffee and scones, my favourite being their cranberry-coconut. This is a lively café, almost too warm, with big windows that
overlook the incredibly wide streets of Whitehorse. Yesterday we walked on top of the fragile, crumbling bluffs that give a view of the city, strangely new-looking for a town that’s over a
hundred years old. Underfoot dry, sparse vegetation of moss, heather, the occasional crocus. Down below, the townsite next to the winding Yukon River. In the distance, snowy
mountains.
Wednesday night, as part of the Yukon Writers’ Festival, six of us did a reading in the fossil museum on the outskirts of town. One of the most entertaining literary evenings I’ve ever
been part of. Ivan Coyote led off with a spellbinding story about her father giving up drink; Kevin Chong obsessed about Neil Young; Jon Turk took his broken pelvis to a shaman in
Siberia; Robert Priest in a migraine-haze performed the most playful poems; Jerome Stueart moved us into science fiction; I brought us back north with something from the canoe trip in
Late Nights on Air.
Last night I did a reading in Tagish, an hour’s drive from here. More talk than reading. It was in the little library, smaller than the thrift store in the next room, both of them under the
roof of the community centre. I love these out-of-the-way events. They take me back to my small-town childhood and I feel comfortable with the scale of things. Yesterday I also signed
books in Mac’s Fireweed Bookstore in Whitehorse, where the manager told me spiritual books are in highest demand. Summer tourism isn’t yet underway, but once it is Germans will
arrive in great numbers on the weekly charter that flies directly between Whitehorse and Frankfurt. They come with their passion for the wilderness and the writer Jack London.
Driving back from Tagish last night, we were in beautiful, beautiful country – open rivers, half-frozen lakes, mountains in the near distance. As we crossed the bridge over the Tagish
River, a bald eagle flew over the car.
Tomorrow we go to Haines Junction. Next week we’ll be in Mayo, Dawson, Carmacks and Teslin. Leading the way in every instance is Lori Schroeder, the public librarian in Whitehorse
and the wonderful brains behind this whole operation. She keeps her head warm under a Norwegian knitted hat with long earlugs that reminds me of the wigs judges used to wear in
court.
--Elizabeth Hay
The first stop on her blog tour was at Metro Mama's. Check it out!
4 comments:
I feel as though I was along for the ride. I wish I had been.
Yeah, after reading these and Late Nights On Air I'm pretty confident that I'll be checking out her earlier books, too.
Thanks for including your readers in this excursion! It's wonderful to be along for the ride!
I will be checking out her earlier books, for sure!
Cool article as for me. It would be great to read something more concerning that matter. The only thing your blog misses is a photo of some blocker.
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