By Peter Christensen

Op-Ed Commentary

During the eighties I worked guiding and drove a small band of horses from Elsa into the Bonnet Plume Range of the Mackenzie Mountains of the Yukon Territories and got lost along the way.

Three of us: Richard, a weightlifter city boy from back east with no backcountry experience; Barry, an experienced guide and myself rode and chased a dozen horses into Rapitan Creek Base Camp southwest of the Bonnet Plume Range of mountains. The horses were trucked from Pelly Crossing, where they wintered, to a siding called Elsa along the ‘Silver Trail’ to Keno City.

Elsa is about 450 km north of Whitehorse and 13 kilometres west of Keno City, a silver-lead-zinc town; population 20. It was a slow trip between Pelly and Elsa as the road was gravel and rough. This was in the 1980s so the road was ‘unimproved’. Ten mph was making good time for the single axle stock truck with a dozen horses on board.

Barry, Richard and I waited at Elsa. It took “Lightening,” what Barry called the driver, about 24 hours to make the trip one way from Pelly. I had hooked up with Barry at Pelly Crossing where he was nailing shoes on the front feet of the horses. To our surprise we knew each other from grade school. We’d had no contact since Barry dropped out in Grade 9 and went to work in the oil patch, at least 15 years previous.

The ‘Outfit’ we were working for had acquired the Bonnet Plume Outfitter Concession that year.  The Outfitter was a German fellow from Calgary with big dreams. He had sent his greenhorn son-in-law, Richard, along to keep an eye on things.

The truck arrived at night; we unloaded the horses in a ditch, watered and then tied them to whatever we could find for an early start. Once packed we followed the South McQuesten River for a couple of days. Barry, a good horseman and ‘bushrat’ was supposed to know his way; however, he made a left instead of a right at the first junction and took us a 100 kilometers in the wrong direction. I was at the back chasing the ponies and leading a couple of pack horses when I noticed Barry kept stopping and starring at the country. At first, I did not think this was unusual but his stops became more frequent. Finally, Barry admitted he was lost, didn’t know where we were, exactly…

We’d been travelling for about 12 hours so we made camp to think a bit. The late dusk light settled in for a few hours before sunrise at 3 a.m.  I had purchased a topo map of the Bonnet Plume country while in Whitehorse and had my compass so the next morning Barry sent Richard out to rustle the hobbled horses while he and I climbed a hill above camp for a bigger view.

When we gained some height and could see the lay of the land we unfolded the map and tried to make the country fit. It was not until we positioned the map to true north with the compass that things started to make sense. It was the strangest feeling!  All of a sudden, I felt dizzy! It was as if the whole landscape swung 180 degrees and fell into place. (This was of course pre GPS and satellite navigation.)

Barry and I headed down to camp feeling relieved. Even though we would have to backtrack for a couple of days at least we knew now we would be headed in the right direction. But where was Richard? No Richard!  And no horses? We waited and waited. We heard a very distant gunshot. I fired an answer and got a response. A few hours later Richard and the horses slogged into camp.

We found the Wind River and then Rapitan Creek Basecamp, a couple of hundred kilometers northeast of the McQuesten. Basecamp was a few ragged wall tents left behind by the previous guide outfitting concession. Barry stayed on for one hunt and then flew out on the float plane that brought in the next couple of clients.

Then Richard left. I felt very alone and deserted, but there was a job to do. I kept guiding clients as they came in by float plane and then eventually left that way myself.  The outfitter had found some natives who knew the country; they came in at the end of the season and herded the horses back to Elsa. I was exhausted!

In my last two op/ed’s I ventured into the thorny landscape of politics, not a place where I feel comfortable, especially these days with Trump, Vance and Musk stirring the caldron of trade and power to see what will fall out. I did not make any guesses about their motives and agenda but did make a few comments about our own government being without leadership and drifting to who knows where?

These days I feel like I did when I was on top of the big hill with Barry and pulled out the map and compass to try and locate where we were?

I do not know how many people or if anybody actually reads these op/ed commentaries Ian so generously publishes so I sent a link to a few old friends. Things went fairly well. One person said, “Let her rip!” Another was gracious and thought my writing thoughtful and passionate but ventured no opinions, and yet another bluntly declared that he “did not like my politics.”

I am not sure what my politics are just yet! I am looking for a map and compass that I can lay down, line up with the true north strong and free and have the whole political landscape fall into place. Is that too much to ask?

– Peter Christensen is a Columbia Valley-based writer and poet.

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