Despite all my best efforts, the last two days before the new Gallery show and opening are going to be full of insanity and stress. No matter how many times people are asked to provide details for their work - their work, which is being exhibited in an important regional gallery space - they fail to do so. It's very frustrating. Had everything gone as planned, I would have finished my Exhibition Notes on the weekend, all the content for the panels would be at the printers and ready for pick-up tomorrow, the labels would be printed and I would be in the process of mounting them. Instead, I'm transcribing label material from hodge-podge sheets of paper, many of which lack important bits of information such as the title of the piece. Instead, I'm still organising the exhibition information binder. Instead, my Exhibition Notes are sitting half completed on my computer desktop waiting for key bits of information to dribble in via email. Yet, it all must come together for Thursday. Can we do it? God, I hope so.

In other news, I think it's safe to say I now have a small but ecclectic circle of friends up here. There's Owen, the Mad Scribe (Owen Williams, he would want me to say, who is one of two calligraphers living in the Yukon and probably one of Canada's only 'letter artists'); Andrew, my reporter friend as the Curator would call him and, possibly Owen's friend, Dawn (to whom I am known as 'Fuscia'), can be lumped in this strange social heap. There's also Dungeon Master Andrew from D&D and Matt from the YAC. At something more of an arm's length there is Nicole, an artist originally from Peterborough and, Tammy, box office party girl. No great surprise, I'm making friends faster with the boys than with the girls, and for once (at least in most cases), it's not because I've got boobies. Or at least not entirely. Also, there are a few others from Dawson that I can probably count, too, but in that they're in Dawson, they're not really immediately accessible.

At any rate, the other night, Owen, Reporter Andrew, myself and Jessica the ex artist-in-residence at KIAC in Dawson, all went for an ice cream and an impromptu hike through Miles Canyon following a small art show opening at Zola's. Zola's would be the big frou-frou cafe on Main Street, home of the Midnight Sun coffee company. Zola's a big supporter of the Arts. Yay ! Anyway. We got soft-serve ice cream from Riverside Grocery, which is open 20 hours a day (it used to be 23 hours a day), which has possibly the yummiest soft-serve around. The consistency is all wrong, so it comes out with this awesome texture and malty goodness. Yum. We were eating it in Rotary Park (is this a new semi-urban Canadian icon to go with Chinese Restaurants and Cenotaphs?), but since it was a bit chilly down by the river and the mosquitoes were biting, we decided to finish up and pile into Andrew's VW to check out Miles Canyon.

Miles Canyon is, well, it's a canyon through which the Yukon River flows. We originally went to take photos and then head home, but it was so enticing that we trotted across the swaying wooden bridge (held fast by anchored cables) and head out on a delightful hike. We probably hiked for an hour and a half, not quite making it to Canyon City, the site of a... well, some kind of settlement, or something. But, in that it was pushing 10 o'clock and we were still on the trail, you can understand why. The views were spectacular, I must say, with volcanic rock cut down by the river into sheer walls of red and grey stone. The river, itself, is a sort of eerie greenish blue, or bluish green, I guess, kind of thick-looking, and totally beautiful. Tall evergreens and less tall poplars and such grow up away from the sides and on the slopes, hunks of weathered basalt (real basalt - not in a lab !) sitting along the paths. Down the slopes are many alpine plants, low and clinging with tiny flowers. The furry crocuses (crocii?) have gone to seed, which suggests they're not actually crocuses at all, and Owen made me eat some. Holy burning mouth - talk about a northern source of chili-pepper replacement. And then, to make up for it, he picked these tiny pink flowers smaller than my chewed pinky finger nail and fed those to me. Much like clover, but softer in flavour, kind of honey-like. Very nice. I took many photos and we discussed everything from Philosophy and Art, to music and travel. It was grand. I will certainly return to Miles Canyon.