We found a cool park by the river there, and ate lentil salad, which was pretty alright by me. Afterwards we checked out the downtown, which equals nothing to do on a weekday, and decided to sleep early and hit the road the next day. The road led to Dawson Creek, about 929km away, and was a long one. Upon arrival we checked out the town, scoped a spot to sleep and passed out. Awakening, we took a picture with the Alaska Highway sign and hit the road again, this time for Whitehorse, which is around 1500 km further up the Alaska highway.
We stopped around halfway at a wicked viewpoint and ate Weisswurst with sweet mustard and sipped a little Hefeweizen. Upon the realization that pretzels are also necessary with the meal, we jumped back on the road and kept this huge undertaking going. We stopped again to eat dinner (spicy spaghetti) and then made it to Whitehorse around 1 AM. To all you who would caution me against driving at night, fear not. Whitehorse is in the Yukon, and it's summer, meaning the sun was just starting to set when we pulled in. All in all it was a couple days of pretty constant vehicle usage, and our awesome ass van pulled it off without a hitch. We stopped just outside the city and bunked down for the evening. The next day was Canada day.The parade in Whitehorse for Canada day was hilarious in so many ways it's difficult to describe. There were all sorts of floats, including a fire spitting monster truck, two full grown men on toy cars, and a phillipino and thai community float. People vaguely paid attention and it was all in good fun, but was over extremely fast. The good news was that it ended at the farmers market. Now, I know what your thinking, who the hell farms in the Yukon. But I'll tell you who, total badasses with nothing to fear. We talked briefly with a couple people before stumbling on Tom and Simone Rudge, who are probably the people I would most want to be raised by if my own parents didn't exist. At first they told us to go see Brian, a blind goats cheese maker, who also happens to operate in the yukon (badass enough for you?). Brian also makes halloumi cheese, which I'm a fiend for, and definitely was not expecting to find anywhere in Canada being made, much less so in the great white north. Brian was kind and one of my many regrets about not staying longer in the Yukon is not being able to watch him do his thing. The halloumi was amazing. After that we ate some of the best falafel sandwiches I've ever had, which is almost pure comedy because it's the Yukon. The gentleman doing them is from outside Haifa, and makes all the traditional garnishes fresh for the market. He was funny and the falafel sandwiches were transcendent. After that we visited Tom and Simone again to ask if we could come see what a farm in the Yukon is like. Tom basically said that if we don't mind slaughtering pigs, we could come tomorrow. That was about the best thing anyone could have said to us at that point, and we got really giddy. After jotting down directions, we said our goodbyes and went off to the Yukon brewery for a tour.
This was an action filled day, maybe the most of the trip. The brewery was fun, they make some good beer and some mediocre beer, but the tour guide was a good natured joker and we got to taste every beer they had on tap, which made us happy, but not too happy.After the brewery we decided hunger was getting the best of us and marched over to a nearby shopping mall to grab some bites. Needless to say there was Daikon radish, durian fruit and all manner of other exotic stuff you might have trouble finding in a major city there. It's mental to think about the transportation for these goods to get anywhere, but the added push to the yukon was enough for me to cast a dark eye on that super market. We settled on a slaw type salad with sesame dressing and seared halloumi cheese. For those not in the know, halloumi is a weird cheese,
unlike others, it doesn't melt. It caramelizes. So you can sear it in a frying pan like a peice of meat. We were only too happy to do so. Whilst cooking in a park, another couple set up at the next bench and a random aboriginal guy said he could smell it from down the block and had to come check it out. His name was Louis, and we gave him a bowl to eat and he freaked out. He said he never eats anything without meat, and that this was bar none the best meatless dish he's ever had in his life. Thanked us in the native tongue and welcomed us to the land and such, it was a pretty interesting experience. After we'd eaten, and fed some to the Albertans at the next table, a gentleman down a ways on a picnic bench gave us a pork chop to try. It was his special marinade and was pretty good. This eating thing was getting to be quite a communal experience. The Albertans came over and chilled with us for a while, they were super cool so we decided to hit the town for Canada day. First we compared vans, at which they kicked our ass. Rob is an engineer, and his van is engineered to be a badass machine. Extra batteries, a self chilling cooler, the works. We hung out a bit longer before going to one dead bar after another, at one of which I won 25$ in bar tab. Then we found Foxy's, the rocking spot for Canada day. We got in and had a few rounds before deciding to go back to the vans for a nightcap. The nightcap lasted til 4AM and went through a bottle of gin. We had half concious arguments about Disney movies and conversations I'm sure I don't remember. We hit the hay late, but had to be at the farm at 10AM the next day, so I woke up early and hit the road while Fabian slept. He woke up when we pulled into the farm, around 20 minutes outside of town. The farm is called Aurora Mountain farm, and is amazing. They have goats, pigs, cows and horses, a market garden, chickens for laying and broilers. Their house is self built and operates off the grid, and the people who live there are each extremely interesting in their own right. When we pulled up they were making a pancake breakfast, which was when the first pangs of wanting to live there hit me. The only thing that threw me off was walking in and seeing a guy in a clockwork orange outfit at the table. Their son is going into fine arts in Dawson City, and happily got to go to town today because we were helping with the slaughter. He's a whipsmart dude with a good memory, he can recite Robert Service at the drop of a hat, and also can work a farm better than most of you, therefore he gets extra points in at least two categories. He also has a really hot girlfriend, so double bonus. After breakfast it was down to business. The pig slaughter was something I was slightly apprehensive about with no good reason. The pigs aren't worried about it, why should I be? Basically it all goes down like this. The pigs get fed. Whilst gorging at their troughs, two of them get shot in the head and pulled away. The rest of the pigs care less than I do, and continue eating. It's really something that makes you change the way you think about the animal when you see it. They absolutely couldn't care less about their piggy brethren. They almost make people look compassionate, almost.
After the initial kill, they are hung up and drained of blood before being brought to the butchery area. There we burnt and shaved one, and skinned the other. Then we eviscerate them, cut them in half, and bring them to the local butcher. It was painless for the pigs, much less gory than I expected, and actually something I can definitely say I approve of. Now that being said, don't think that these are your supermarket pigs. These are slaughtered on farm with no inspector, so they can't be sold retail. People get these pigs off Aurora Mountain Farm because they know good pigs, and trust their farmer. Ideally everyone would get pigs like this. So after we help deliver the pigs, Tom took us around to a couple businesses in town that he likes. He's a slow food representative for the Yukon, and will be part of their delegation going to Terra Madre for the Slow Food conference this year. He brought us to the Alpine bakery, which is a huge stone hearth bakery in town, and we had a chat with the owner, who will be accompanying Tom and Simone to Italy later this year. After that we picked up some beer to go with dinner and went back up towards their farm. On the way there is a really beautiful coffee roaster, called Bean North, which we also stopped into. We got a private tour because one of the hands there gets pigs from Tom. This guy knew his coffee, and it was an interesting experience to see the process that turns raw beans into finished, retail-able coffee. Almost similar to wine, the flavour charts are immense, and depending on roast, country, mountain and other such details, some coffee drinkers can tell you exactly where it's from (or, apparently, what side of the mountain it grows on). It was a really educational walkabout.
We returned to the farm, where Simone had on a pork stock with all the bits people don't want(the best bits), and ate a quick meal of rice and braised pig with some greens. It was relaxed and the conversation was good, and Tom wrangled us into another slaughter the next day, this time poultry. We did, however, have to see the soccer match before the killing could begin. We legged it down the road, stayed at a camp spot near the river and a collapsed and forgotten house, and slept. Early rise again, this time feeling Canada day's wrath upon me, we drove to town to catch the match at a local breakfast place. German wins again and we head out another farm to get our quota for the day. Killing chickens is another process that is really streamlined and not difficult or grotesque. The farmers who have chickens in the area have all pitched on buying a slaughter line, and set up like a factory. There are a couple other newcomers, one couple who wants to get into farming, and a guy from the local butcher who wants to see where the birds come from. We were the first there, and slowly the others arrive. The first job is catching the birds and getting them into crates, where they are easy to access and can't escape from. The crates are them brought over to the slaughter line, and the chickens hung up, electro-shocked to unconciousness, and bled out, after bleeding they are scalded and then put in what resembles a washing machine with fingers, but it affectionately known as a plucker. They go from the plucker to an inspection table then into a cold water bath. From the bath they go to a primary butchery table, and from there to the evisceration table.
Post-gutlessness, they are again dunked in cold water, and then packaged. It all runs very streamlined, even with us newbies running about. After a certain stage we stop for lunch before finishing the last details. Lunch is huge, includes dessert and everything. I think I’m almost too lethargic to do any more work after. Happily the remaining bits are just finishing and breakdown, so nothing too painful for a tired, full me to attempt. After everything is complete, we have a beer with Tom, promise we’ll see him on the way back from Dawson City, as he just announced he happens to have a bottle of wine he’d like to share. Then we hit the road, deeper into the north and full of zest and sleepless excitability.
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