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Frank Cotolo
March 24, 2022 |
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Of all the places I have travelled, the most quixotic is the Yukon. There is barely a human
population on the frozen spread of northwest Canada called Yukon, especially atop Canada's highest
peak, Mount Logan.
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"Up there the air is rare," wrote Canadian explorer Wes Billfold in 1889.
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The glaciers are also poor spots to build a house, no less a family. "Ice, ice everywhere and not
a cube for my beverage," Billfold wrote in 1892, after surviving a fall from Mount Logan.
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One mysterious tale told to me in a tavern along the Alsek River involves a French trapper named
Ordeal Kant. He was hunting in the Tombstone Territory, looking for large beasts from which he
would make warm coats to trade.
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"Ordeal had a long rifle," said Xerion, a local who told tales of the Yukon every other Wednesday
night, "but he'd used up most of his ammo shooting at animals that weren't there because he was
snow blind and that does strange things to one's eyes, such as make one see animals that aren't
there. Ordeal thought he would die, which we all do eventually, but not by a set of moose antlers,
such as he saw galloping his way. So Ordeal cocked his rifle and stood to meet the moose head on
with what bullets he had left to shoot. Then there was a crash that echoed through the vast white
land. It was a boom, a big boom, nothing like a moose hitting a man with antlers."
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Xerion's audience gasped and became silent for an hour. Finally, I said, "Hey Xerion, what
happened after the boom?"
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