Monday, 12 August 2013

The Story of Andy

Some stories need to be written down.

This has been my story of my time in the Yukon. I can’t say how it has changed me with any certainty, but I am wise enough to know than an experience like this must have changed me.

I did not do as Andy at Eagle did. I did not road trip up to Alaska and then to Whitehorse to float down the Yukon River with a few pans, a tent, a saxophone, and nothing else on my person, and end up starting a homestead. But still, this was my adventure.

I have done as he suggested on the boat ride out from the David Site: make short term, medial term, and long-term plans. He said that things in his life have worked out—not necessarily in the way he imagined, but they have worked out and sometimes in better ways.

Maybe that’s a cop out, a wish, a hope to make us feel better or to fear less, though for my part, I believe it to be true.

I remember the evening spent up late, talking with my sister. The night I realized that if I were to do archaeology, I would want to work in the community and do public archaeology. I remember the wish to do this up north.

Here I am. I have gotten to do that. And it was amazing.

My only regret is the goodbyes. More happened today as I said goodbye and will say goodbye to my field crew—I feel grateful for each one of them being here—for both the good times and the little bad parts—for making me stronger, for letting me help them, for teaching me; for making my time up here all that it was.

Maybe it’s a cop out to think our paths will cross again, that I will get to see all of my wonderful crew again but to pull a line from Brittany, “Good friends are like stars. You don't always see them, but you know they're always there." 

In the land of the midnight sun, perhaps truer words have never been spoken.

Here’s to the Little John Field Crew 2013. Love you long time. 

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