I caught a two-woman play last night called "Matt and Ben" about the hilarious possible scenario of how it came to be that these two managed to pull off "Good Will Hunting."

After the play, I walked "home" to my campsite at Robert Service along the Yukon River. Midnight sun viewing has officially become my favorite Whitehorse activity. The river flows northwest and the weather seems to come from there, so a magical dynamic interplay between clouds and river creates an illusion of stillness. The Fireweed, the flower of the Yukon, grows everywhere alongside the river and its vibrant purple combined with the hazy purple of the midnight clouds on the darkened water makes for quite the poetry. I can see how Robert Service, among many others, was inspired...

Poor Henk's been sitting in the rain more than he's used to. He's starting to rust a little under the exhaust. So am I. You've got to be a hearty soul to live in a place like this. Damp and cold and rusty. I spoke to a couple of 60-something women this morning over coffee. One had arrived here 29 years ago, the other over 40. Both had come for a short visit, and neither had gone home. "You'll hear that story over and over here," one of them said, sipping her latte and smiling. They looked happy and hearty, like the people I met in Bella Coola, excited to share their little slice of paradise with an appreciative visitor.

I'm going to a yoga class tonight. Can't wait to stretch my bones after sleeping an inch from the cold ground night after night. Comfort is an ever-changing state, isn't it? Toronto had gotten too comfortable for me. I have to remember to keep that in mind.