North Stars

158 November 2013 The name itself sounds like a place far, far away. Whitehorse, in Yukon, Canada, owes some of its legend to the 19th-century writer and adventurer Jack London, who camped here while navigating the Whitehorse Rapids.

I was in Whitehorse in the hope of catching a glimpse of the Aurora Borealis, further from home, geographically, than I had ever been. Whitehorse has a causal way of reminding you about how remote it is. Downtown, on a Saturday, I had to walk five blocks before I could find anybody on the streets. What I didn’t realise is the people were going to come to me, later that evening.

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If life takes you to Whitehorse, it will most likely deposit you at the Best Western Gold Rush Inn, which is where we were staying. It is home to the Gold Pan Saloon, their appropriately rustic, wooden and small-townish bar and restaurant. As we were checking in, the lady at the reception suggested we get to the Gold Pan Saloon by 7, as it filled up early. Tonight would be especially packed, as the Dave Haddock Band was playing. Having never heard of the band, and considering the deserted streets we’d just walked through, we figured the Whitehorse definition of ‘packed’ would be quite different. We ambled in at 7.30. Surprise! She hadn’t been joking.

It took us a while to adjust to the fact that the entire population of Whitehorse was upon us, and we couldn’t quite focus on the music. Five minutes later, we couldn’t escape it. The Dave Haddock band turned out to be a three-piece outfit that had more music in each of their little fingers, than any of the numerous bands I’ve seen live over the years. Dave Haddock, a white-haired, folksy gentleman in a hat, was belting out numbers from his new album, Talk to Me, which released this September. His last CD released was back in 2002. Seeing that Mr Haddock seemed to be an integral part of the Yukon music scene, the expectations and excitement were high. And I’m happy to report I was in no way disappointed. Dave Haddock’s music kept us enthralled for three hours, buoyed gently by the steins of beer we were consuming. The music was a compelling mixture of blue grass, blues and indie rock with lyrics that hit you straight in the gut. It was intimate, low-lit and unlike any of the big arena gigs I’m used to being at.

The Northern Lights were something I was expecting to see, but this beer-fuelled, musical revelation, I was not. And as it happened, the temperamental Aurora Borealis never showed up on our visit. The good news is, Whitehorse still gave us a phenomenon to remember.