Taiyaki Night !!

Taiyaki moulds. It's okay they died of natural causes.

Taiyaki is a Japanese waffle treat. Andrew got a set of Taiyaki irons for Christmas from his friend, Megan. This was his first go at making these little tasty fish.

The box instructions were clear if the text was completely incomprehensible.

Andrew mixed up the batter using Korean pancake flour, just perfect.

After oiling the irons - actually made of aluminum - he poured in the batter. Then to make them real Taiyaki he added a good dollop of red bean paste in the lower half.

You need a burner for Taiyaki, so we set up the Coleman propane camp stove on top of the fancy, but in this instance useless, electric stove. We watched closely as Andrew turned them back and forth over the burner.

Okay, these are not the first ones. But after one or two rounds of Cajun Taiyaki Andrew got in the zone and lightly browned Taiyaki began flopping around the kitchen.

Joy gave them two thumbs up, a Taiyaki in each hand.

Lyrid Meteors on the Marge of Lake Laberge

 
The Lyrid meteor shower peaked on April 21st. Andrew and I decided to head out to Lake Laberge some 50 km North of Whitehorse to escape the lights of the city and watch for meteors. As we drove into the campground by the lake we saw a local group around a bonfire trying to keep warm while waiting for the sky to darken. We'd dressed for mid-winter since the sky was brilliantly clear and a slight northern wind came up the lake. We settled in by the boat launch, I set up my camera and we huddled into our camp chairs.

It wasn't long before a spectacular show of Aurora began, the red-tinged green curtain highlighting the stars beyond. And we began to see the occasional shooting star, quick streaks here and there. I've been a fan of meteor showers since I was a kid on the eastern prairies. In late summer I stayed out to watch the Perseids. In the early 1980s when we went back to the land in central Saskatchewan there was an especially impressive display – I counted over a hundred shooting stars in about half an hour. I was so impressed that when our first child was born a year and a half later in the same place we gave her the middle name "Celeste" to celebrate the sky and the wonders it holds.

From previous research Andrew and I knew the Lyrids were not as fast as the Perseids and were therefore somewhat less visible. But we also learned that the while Lyrids were slower, in the early evening they have a flatter trajectory entering the atmosphere and therefore a longer run across the sky. Bruce Mclure from earthsky.org calls them "earthgrazers – a loooong meteor that travels horizontally across the sky."

And we were rewarded for our early arrival. Just after 11 pm we watched a bright shallow streak head south somewhere miles East of the lake. As it approached the ground  we watched in astonishment as it suddenly brightened and broke up into three distinct pieces. Andrew noticed a brief blue halo effect and then it blinked out. When we got home I was surprised to see that I had managed to get a photo of its demise. The exposure was somewhere around 30 seconds so it was just luck that we got anything at all. Later, neither Andrew nor I could remember if we'd heard a sound.

This post is dedicated to our son-in-law Stephen who shared his enthusiasm for the night sky with us during our visit to New Zealand earlier this year. Mahsi cho Stephen, we were smarter sky watchers this spring.

Shackelton's Scotch

NOT Shackleton's Hut at Cape Royds. This is actually Scott's place down the iceberg. Watch this space for the real Shackleton's hut coming soon. s. (Erin Neufeld photo)

The heroic age of polar exploration  in the first decade of the twentieth century witnessed a scramble amongst young European males to reach the extremities of the planet. While the First World War saw off the noble idea of individual heroism, there are still traces of this time that can capture our imagination.

Interior of the WRONG Hut. (Erin Neufeld photo)

Earnest Shackleton undertook several voyages to the Antarctic. The 1909 expedition was remarkably well equipped with supplies to keep the large crew healthy and well fed. Amongst the kit were crates of brandy, champagne and Scotch whiskey. After over wintering at Cape Royd, Shackleton led an attempt to reach the South Pole. Upon his near success he told his wife Emily, a live donkey is better than a dead lion, isn't it? and she gallantly replied, Yes darling, as far as I am concerned.

One of the crates thawing at the Canterbury Museum in Christchurch. (New Zealand Antarctic Heritage Trust)

A century later curators of the New Zealand Antarctic Heritage Trust working on hut maintenance discovered stored items below the floor boards. They were amazed to find three crates of Mackinlay whiskey. As curators I'm sure they felt they'd discovered the holy grail of Antarctica. The crates were reverently packed and shipped to Christchurch for conservation at the Canterbury Museum where they, and the museum, survived two major earthquakes.

The self-discipline of these conservation professionals ranks at the same level as those heros of the exploration age. An archaeologist colleague of mine told me that the general practice with whiskey bottles in camp was to remove the caps and throw them immediately into a fire. Curators noted that a bottle was missing from one of the crates and assumed one of Shackleton's party couldn't resist a tipple. I suspect a Canadian archaeologist made it to the crate before the heritage trust as no sign of the cork was found.

Scotch Whiskey has been popular in the Yukon since before Shackleton began his voyages. This ad is from the Dawson Daily News, March 25, 1938.

Whyte & MacKay, Glasgow, the owners of the Mackinlay brand, jumped at the chance to work with the NZ Antarctic Trust. They were able to access several bottles and took minuscule samples to undertake the replication of the hundred year old Scotch. Some 50,000 bottles were produced with 5% of proceeds returned to the Heritage Trust for their work.

Remarkably ten of these bottles made it to the Whitehorse liquor store where our friend Mark acquired two. He then organized a "coffee break" and invited friends to join in the subtle and fine art of whiskey "tasting". I discovered this was quite different than the whiskey "drinking" I learned about in archaeology camp.

Mark genially bringing forth the bottle to begin the formal celebration of World Whiskey Day in Whitehorse.

Lauren, our host for the whiskey tasting, carefully holds the replica box and bottle for a portrait.

A whiskey tasting is an earnest and thoughtful affair. Each participant is provided with both a whiskey score sheet and a graphic analysis tool. Unfortunately I have misplaced mine so you can only read about it here. The score sheet has several characteristics to be considered, each with dozens of possible descriptors. With this in hand one pools a few drops of the whiskey on the tongue and considers its content. This pooling on the tongue might be repeated a few times until you have fully sorted the whiskey. I include below the distiller's taste guidelines so you can see what an educated palate can discern. For my part, I simply leaned back, closed my eyes and thought of the empire, and the whiskey corks burning in the fire.

The 47.3% ABV whisky has a light honey and straw gold colour with shimmering highlights. The nose is soft, elegant and refined with delicate aromas of crushed apple, pear and fresh pineapple. It has a whisper of marmalade, cinnamon and a tease of smoke, ginger and muscovado sugar. The generous strength of the 47.3% whisky, believed to be high to stop the alcohol freezing, gives plenty of impact, but in a mild and warming way. It has whispers of gentle bonfire smoke slowly giving way to spicy rich toffee, treacle and pecan nuts.                                                   - Whyte & Mackay, Glasgow

With this information in hand you can graphically display the whiskey on a star chart that makes a permanent and comparable record of the liquor for your files.

The Shackleton Whiskey was delightful and warming. I'm sure it was a hit at Cape Royds too.

Joy and I modelling beside the generous range of Scotch and dinner, including a haggis, supplied for the event. Many thanks to all for making Yukon's first World Whiskey Day a red letter day in my book.

Golfing way down under

Ringa Ringa Heights on Stewart Island, New Zealand is one of the furthest south golf courses in the world. At six holes it is also one of the few that requires three rounds to play a full round.

We rent clubs at the post office/air terminal/bus depot/tourist shop in town and then hike through the forest and over the ridge to the course. Dramatically located on a narrow spit there are great views of mountains and ocean in every direction.

There are few local rules and green fees are modest.

We mistakenly start on the sixth hole, but it is so cool with an amazing drop to the green just over 130 metres away.

Its beaches and cliffs along the third and fourth fairways bring winds that counter what ever skill we might have. Erin bought two dozen golf balls at the flea market before the trip. A number made it into the thick jungle surrounding the course. I was gob smacked when we actually found at least half of what we fired into the impenetrable forest.

None of us had golfed for awhile so we tried a variety of stances and approaches to the ball.

Andrew surprises us, four whiffs, a suggestion about keeping an eye on the ball and after that he's hitting the ball at least 150 yards in an absolutely straight line.

Stephan and Andrew check out the scenery on the way down to the fourth green.

Ringa Ringa Heights Golf Course celebrates my brother Dick's birthday on the Spring solstice. Hope you had a fine day and a good start on the new year..

Myth & Medium – Yukon First Nation Public History

L to R: Julia Morberg harvests grayling, Madeleine de Repentigny picks blueberries, JJ Van Bibber tries out beaver tail, Waylin Nagano with his first caribou

Dänoja Zho (Long ago House) cultural centre stands beside the Yukon River, a striking architectural statement of cultural difference in the midst of the historic gold rush town of Dawson City, Yukon.

Myth & Medium is a periodic cultural heritage event hosted by the Tr'ondëk Hwëch'in in the centre of the Yukon Territory, Canada. This year's event, We've got a story to tell..., addressed how community narratives of meaning are being looked after, passed on to youth and used in building a future.

Our host, the First Nation's heritage department, currently has nine full time staff including a director, two cultural centre programmers, an archivist/collections manager, managers for traditional knowledge, land-based heritage resources and heritage sites, a language programmer and a heritage researcher. Additional staff include a collections assistant and research assistant on contract. Summer staff look after trails and interpretation programs.

Dänoja Zho meeting room, with its stunning view of the river and the traditional camp of the Tr'ondëk Hwëch'in at Moosehide, was the scene of the professional roundtable each morning. Chief Isaac, leaning on his bow on the right, oversees the proceedings.

One afternoon was spent in the First Nation Hall where different land skills and crafts were set up. Mary Jane Moses demonstrates, and gets help, preparing dry meat.

Record of the past

Sharon Shorty, a Tlingit/Northern Tutchone storyteller, opened the conference with a retelling of a number of traditional stories, reminding the audience of both the colour and embedded morality in these tales. The evening of films combined a selection of home movies made in Dawson in the 1930s and early 40s. They joyfully presented the details of family and community life in the still familiar landscapes of today.

Julie Cruikshank, respected anthropologist of the the Yukon, offered her recollections of her first oral history project in the mid-1970s. She interviewed two of the senior Hän elders at the time. Patsy Lindgren, daughter of Chief Isaac, spoke of her father's warnings to be ready for civilization. Julie noted that in her stories, Patsy's understanding of civilization, the arrival of the white man, was alcohol and violence.

Sue Parsons, Tr'ondëk Hwëch'in collections manager, makes willow bark rope.

Freda Roberts, Tr'ondëk Hwëch'in Cultural Education specialist, on right and Sara Nielsen, Yukon Parks, work out the intricacies of woven babiche bags.

Celebrating traditions

A professional round table included some 40 individuals working in First Nation, Yukon and Canadian government cultural heritage roles. Discussion included technical topics on the administration of community oral history collections and the provision of training for new staff. Yukon College's Heritage and Culture certificate, specifically designed to provide a professional introduction for First Nation students, was profiled as a successful example of community-based training.

The priority for the First Nation governments attending Myth & Medium however was the teaching of youth. Mary Jane Moses of the Vuntut Gwich'in Government's heritage department presented on the extensive cultural geography research project underway and how the results were being transformed into curriculum packages for their school. She also profiled the success of their recent book, People of the Lakes, based upon the oral history projects.

In Dawson the Tr'ondëk Hwëch'in are concerned about the state of the Hän language. Jackie Olsen, Director of the heritage department, noted that while lots of work has been done to record the language over a dozen years, they have not yet produced a single speaker.

There's gonna be a good ole' fashion Language Throw Down challenge to others to lay some lip in their motha tongue rap style... Georgette McLeod and Erika Scheffen host the first Hän rappa throw down with two classes competing for the honours.

Jackie also announced the Yukon Department of Education's accreditation of the First Nation's series of seasonal land practices camps. Students attending four of the Tr'ondëk Hwëch'in seasonal activity camps - First Hunt (caribou late fall hunt), First Fish (salmon in mid-summer), Spring camp and Moose camp (early fall) - will obtain credits for their participation.

Fran Morberg-Green draws upon her knowledge of traditional plant herbals and medicines to help people find the right path.

The Tr’ondëk Hwëch’in Heritage Department released a 10-minute-long animation, “The Story of Crow,” created by TH youth, ages 8–10, during a Hän language demonstration project in summer, 2011.

Making a Future

Staff of both the Dawson City Museum and the Dawson area national historic sites spoke about the need to more closely engage with the local community. Laura Mann of the DCM suggested a “rapid response” gallery for the museum, a space dedicated to reflection on current debates in the community. Carrie Docken, responsible for national historic site interpretation programs, spoke about enhancing the sites' messages by ensuring they were grounded in both the community's present and a national narrative.

Glenda Bolt, manager of Dänoja Zho, described the First Nation's interest in partnering with other community groups. The cultural centre works with the local art school and the annual short film festival to bring the First Nation and newcomer parts of the community together.

My own paper, a contribution to the Tr'ondëk Hwëch'in International Polar Year traditional knowledge project, highlighted the complexities of contact between cultures with incommensurable knowledge sets. The paper questions the casual assumption of Western culture that it is the norm which others should strive to match. We need to think more about gaining consensus instead of getting our way.

Myth & Medium called for a more respectful and reflexive response to a cultural difference. We all need stories that help clear up the bad rap of civilization.

The Hän men hosted the final dinner in the community hall while the Hän dancers once again demonstrated their enthusiasm and skill in their traditional dances. Later there was also a jigging contest that got many participants on the floor

Christchurch Earthquake - Rebuilding a Fallen City

City Gaps, empty spaces where buildings have disappeared, have been taken over by a variety of temporary shops and services.

Christchurch is a fallen city. There are large numbers of unlivable houses, the downtown core remains a closed zone and city water supply and sewage systems are fragile and running at a limited capacity. Repairs and new projects are proceeding but these are complicated by the need to first remove dangerous ruins, deferred engineering evaluations and the increasingly complicated waters of insurance settlements. The level of uncertainty about the future raises concerns of disorder. After almost a year of waiting however, people mostly remain calm and carry on.

The Canterbury museum has mounted a display of the spontaneous collection of “hearts” of support sent to the city from around the world. These signs of caring are comfort for a damaged city.

Sam Johnson, a student at Canterbury University, organized the Student Volunteer Army, to help clean up after the quakes.

For many in Christchurch it has been a hard year. People speak of losing a year of work, but the time has been well filled. One University of Canterbury professor I spoke with acknowledged that her research had been set back as she spent more time supporting and mentoring her graduate students. Stephen was astonished when he returned to his school after the quake to find a bunch of his students with shovels and wheelbarrows beginning the clean-up. The Student Volunteer Army (SVA), a web-based crowd sourcing organization, grew out of this spirit and has been an important element in both the clean-up and the construction of new community relationships. Despite the challenges of addressing their dislocation and material loss, the people of the city are addressing their uncertain future through the strengthening and expansion of social networks.

Erin and Stephen have responded to this vibrance. They've purchased a house, acquired chickens, planted vegetables, taken in cats and strengthened their commitment to their home place because of the relationships to place they've found themselves in.

Lyttleton, Christchurch's port, was also heavily damaged in the quakes. The town, built on the steeply sloped interior of an ancient volcano, suffered from both the quake and the subsequent fall of rock from above. Nevertheless people have worked together to mend their community.

A town planner in Lyttleton who cheerfully continues her work in making the Christchurch region a more liveable space. Geological devestation is simply another issue highlighting needs and a new frame for making a better community.

The Lyttleton weekend market, Anna Moorehead of Gruff Junction sells her local goat cheese “from teat to table”. Others offer fish caught this morning, fresh baking, chocolate delights and heaps of just harvested vegetables and fruit. The market is back. Though some stalls are still to return, spirits are high.

In Lyttleton I get to experience a GapFiller. Like the SVA, another group of earthquake “activists”, the gap fillers, moved to take back their city. Making arrangements with owners of lots cleared of wrecked buildings - gaps - they have organized a series of events including a historic photo exhibit of bombed European cities (now rebuilt and vibrant) and a community activity site (where Erin and Stephen set up the “Hammer Time” stall where kids could bang nails and be builders). In Lyttleton they met with community groups who bemoaned the loss of all their public meeting spaces. In reponse they organized a community event to clean up a downtown lot and created “The Petanque Court”, a new community meeting space. We subsequently attended follow-up event there to “rebuild Lyttleton.”

A professor of art at the University of Victoria, Wellington, unpacks his portable town reconstruction kit, tent, work table, blocks of clay and working tools.

We all built model houses for the new Lyttlelton. Stephen worked on a fairy tale theme for his street of houses.

We all built model houses for the new Lyttlelton.

Cashel Re-Start, the temporary downtown of Christchurch, blossoms amongst the city ruins.

In downtown Christchurch the municipal government and business community have similarly moved to engage the people with their city. The Cashel Mall, largely destroyed in the quakes, has been artfully redone as “Cashel Re-Start” with colourful shipping containers fabricated into store fronts. The main shops have established a foothold in their downtown. The lively pedestrian mall brings people together in new spaces.

Buskers help create a shared experience of fun and community in Re-Start.

The hard work of re-making a city includes bricks and mortar. In Christchurch it is also clear that cities are re-made through the strengthening of social networks and the acknowledgement of different interests and the celebration of shared experiences and challenges.

Christchurch Earthquake - near a year on

Erin's artistic response to the loss of her house in the February, 2011 earthquake.

Taking apart Christchurch one stone at a time.

Earlier in December Erin and I walked into Cathedral Square, closed since the earthquake last February. The municipal government is working hard to have people reconnect with their city. For three weekends only, a two block long fenced-in walkway was opened to the Square. People, hanging on the fences looking down the familiar but now empty streets, watched giant cranes taking apart the tall office buildings and hotels too dangerous to enter. At the square people gawp at the shattered cathedral. There is a debate about both the secular and religious heritage values associated with this city icon but the expense of reconstructing the whole city appears to have doomed this stone pile.

Odd to see modern office buildings tilted so far from mathematical perfection.

Pedestal without a statue. The founder lost.

Most churches in town have heavy steel beams leaning into the walls, one had the two ends of the transcept punched out, only after seeing this dark void did I notice that the complete church steeple was neatly set on a wooden stand in the parking lot out in front. The churches especially are unnerving, they portray a post-rapture landscape. Still, it is summer and the cherries are ripe so even post-rapture has its charms.

City supplied outhouses on the street mark the homes of determined residents.

I took a five hour hour bike ride through the earthquake damaged parts of Christchurch where Erin and Stephen used to live. Built on reclaimed land (swamp with dirt on it) the eastern part of the city was the worst hit. As I entered the neighbourhood you could see the roads change from pavement to gravel. Still occupied neighbourhoods are marked with portable toilets parked along the street. A heavy blue hose snakes along the sidewalk delivering fresh water to houses via attached garden hoses. As I move further along however the number of toilets along the curb dwindles. Then the blue hose stops and you enter the empty blocks.

A wilding garden

Yards are deep in a year's unkempt growth, vegetation flourishes in the damp and mild Canterbury summer. Unclipped rose bushes stretch above their supporting bowers and fushia and other flowers branch out wildly. The grass grows tall in most yards, but it seems at least a few people drop by to mow the lawn and look in on their house - home now somewhere else, possibly one of the always “no-vacancy” motels along the main entries to the city awaiting insurance and engineering decisions about their future.

The Yellow card that makes you leave home.

Too dangerous to enter, a Red card.

The town is full of construction and de-construction workers. Heritage advocates are making the case for the preservation of at least some of the Gothic-Victorian architectural face of colonial Christchurch.

At the same time the city heritage park has developed a collection of earthquake debris. The earthquake is on its way into history.

Few of the houses look damaged. Some have lost portions of their brick veneer, most are without chimneys, often just a ragged blue tarp is tied around a stump of bricks. But looking along the street there is a lot of “out of the corner of your eye” abnormalities - roof lines have a bend, several houses on the river bank look like they've nose-dived into the earth and a footbridge is almost tied in a knot. Regardless, almost all are scheduled for demolition.

Foot bridge over the Avon River in Linwood, a few blocks from Erin and Stephen's old place.

A rememberance of the fishmonger who died when her shop collapsed. We shopped there during our stay in 2009. Both sides of this street corner were devastated, fish shop, bakery, diary and news agent are now just weedy brick-strewn  lots.

I ride along one of these broken streets, the road surface covered in fine silt, large holes swallowing orange warning cones and empty windows staring mindlessly at the street. There are no people, no barking dogs, no cars, a few have fading handwritten signs warning off trespassers. Whole blocks of houses, some 6,000 in all, home for 20,000+ people, will be levelled and cleared. Many places will never be built on again.

I watch one of the first of these houses being turned into a pile of iron roofing, a stack of bricks and a large midden of smashed doors, clumps of gypsum and wall paper amid shards of timber that once rang with the sounds of shared meals, family celebrations and lives lived. It is wrenching. The city is collecting people's experiences of the earthquakes, they are available at Kete Christchurch.

Over the past week there have been more earthquakes, Christmas shopping interrupted, more liquifaction covering streets, gardens and filling houses with fine silt. The seismologists assure Canterburians that these are the final settling of the previously unknown fault under Pegasus Bay but...  there's nothing quite like being literally shaken out of bed early in the morning with your first thought being "get into an interior wall corner and pray."