Toronto to Yellowknife and back, Part 2 Toronto to Yellowknife and back, Part 2 Toronto to Yellowknife and back, Part 2 Toronto to Yellowknife and back, Part 2 Toronto to Yellowknife and back, Part 2 Toronto to Yellowknife and back, Part 2 Toronto to Yellowknife and back, Part 2 Toronto to Yellowknife and back, Part 2 Toronto to Yellowknife and back, Part 2

Toronto to Yellowknife and back, Part 2

Last of Yellowknife Last of Yellowknife Last of Yellowknife Last of Yellowknife

Last of Yellowknife

And still more Yellowknife… And still more Yellowknife… And still more Yellowknife… And still more Yellowknife… And still more Yellowknife… And still more Yellowknife… And still more Yellowknife… And still more Yellowknife… And still more Yellowknife… And still more Yellowknife…

And still more Yellowknife…

It’s now been a month and a day since I started interning at the Globe and Mail. The drive back from Yellowknife was long and lonely. My muffler dragged intermittently, secured mainly by a thin piece of looped wire that kept slipping and loosening. I drove at night through fog so thick it looked like clouds were drifting over my headlights. I blew a tire late on a Saturday night and was taken in by wonderful folks named Wendy and Richie Morrisseau, who gave me a glass of wine, a shot of Baileys and a bed. My brakes overheated climbing the steep hills around Marathon with a 3,000-pound trailer attached to my 2005 Nissan Altima and when I pulled over for gas in White River I found I couldn’t get the car to move forward. When I finally arrived in Toronto it was dark and rainy and I bottomed out about four times on Dufferin Street. By the time I parked around the corner from my friend Paul’s house, where I stayed for three weeks, my nerves were completely shot.
I had just shy of a week to pull myself together. 
I had spent the last eight months learning about territorial politics; about what kind of boots it takes to keep your feet warm in -30C (men’s Wind River, rated to -70, and even those failed me sometimes); about how long I could leave my car unplugged before my battery died; the joys of jamming in a crammed houseboat on a dark winter night; how to avoid being run over when photographing the Northern Lights by the side of the Ingraham Trail and, above all, learning some things about myself. 
I had been a “reporter/photographer” at the Yellowknifer newspaper. We all had this title because all the reporters were responsible for shooting their own photographs. Unfortunately my reporting interests - legislative assembly and courts - didn’t really offer me many opportunities to shoot.
I was pretty rusty and I knew it. I also knew I had been offered the internship at the Globe - one I had wanted ever since I first heard of it - because they felt I could hit the ground running. 
I hoped that I wouldn’t prove them wrong. I continue to hope that every day. 
But before I get started with my Globe updates, here’s some of what I loved about Yellowknife. It’s now been a month and a day since I started interning at the Globe and Mail. The drive back from Yellowknife was long and lonely. My muffler dragged intermittently, secured mainly by a thin piece of looped wire that kept slipping and loosening. I drove at night through fog so thick it looked like clouds were drifting over my headlights. I blew a tire late on a Saturday night and was taken in by wonderful folks named Wendy and Richie Morrisseau, who gave me a glass of wine, a shot of Baileys and a bed. My brakes overheated climbing the steep hills around Marathon with a 3,000-pound trailer attached to my 2005 Nissan Altima and when I pulled over for gas in White River I found I couldn’t get the car to move forward. When I finally arrived in Toronto it was dark and rainy and I bottomed out about four times on Dufferin Street. By the time I parked around the corner from my friend Paul’s house, where I stayed for three weeks, my nerves were completely shot.
I had just shy of a week to pull myself together. 
I had spent the last eight months learning about territorial politics; about what kind of boots it takes to keep your feet warm in -30C (men’s Wind River, rated to -70, and even those failed me sometimes); about how long I could leave my car unplugged before my battery died; the joys of jamming in a crammed houseboat on a dark winter night; how to avoid being run over when photographing the Northern Lights by the side of the Ingraham Trail and, above all, learning some things about myself. 
I had been a “reporter/photographer” at the Yellowknifer newspaper. We all had this title because all the reporters were responsible for shooting their own photographs. Unfortunately my reporting interests - legislative assembly and courts - didn’t really offer me many opportunities to shoot.
I was pretty rusty and I knew it. I also knew I had been offered the internship at the Globe - one I had wanted ever since I first heard of it - because they felt I could hit the ground running. 
I hoped that I wouldn’t prove them wrong. I continue to hope that every day. 
But before I get started with my Globe updates, here’s some of what I loved about Yellowknife. It’s now been a month and a day since I started interning at the Globe and Mail. The drive back from Yellowknife was long and lonely. My muffler dragged intermittently, secured mainly by a thin piece of looped wire that kept slipping and loosening. I drove at night through fog so thick it looked like clouds were drifting over my headlights. I blew a tire late on a Saturday night and was taken in by wonderful folks named Wendy and Richie Morrisseau, who gave me a glass of wine, a shot of Baileys and a bed. My brakes overheated climbing the steep hills around Marathon with a 3,000-pound trailer attached to my 2005 Nissan Altima and when I pulled over for gas in White River I found I couldn’t get the car to move forward. When I finally arrived in Toronto it was dark and rainy and I bottomed out about four times on Dufferin Street. By the time I parked around the corner from my friend Paul’s house, where I stayed for three weeks, my nerves were completely shot.
I had just shy of a week to pull myself together. 
I had spent the last eight months learning about territorial politics; about what kind of boots it takes to keep your feet warm in -30C (men’s Wind River, rated to -70, and even those failed me sometimes); about how long I could leave my car unplugged before my battery died; the joys of jamming in a crammed houseboat on a dark winter night; how to avoid being run over when photographing the Northern Lights by the side of the Ingraham Trail and, above all, learning some things about myself. 
I had been a “reporter/photographer” at the Yellowknifer newspaper. We all had this title because all the reporters were responsible for shooting their own photographs. Unfortunately my reporting interests - legislative assembly and courts - didn’t really offer me many opportunities to shoot.
I was pretty rusty and I knew it. I also knew I had been offered the internship at the Globe - one I had wanted ever since I first heard of it - because they felt I could hit the ground running. 
I hoped that I wouldn’t prove them wrong. I continue to hope that every day. 
But before I get started with my Globe updates, here’s some of what I loved about Yellowknife. It’s now been a month and a day since I started interning at the Globe and Mail. The drive back from Yellowknife was long and lonely. My muffler dragged intermittently, secured mainly by a thin piece of looped wire that kept slipping and loosening. I drove at night through fog so thick it looked like clouds were drifting over my headlights. I blew a tire late on a Saturday night and was taken in by wonderful folks named Wendy and Richie Morrisseau, who gave me a glass of wine, a shot of Baileys and a bed. My brakes overheated climbing the steep hills around Marathon with a 3,000-pound trailer attached to my 2005 Nissan Altima and when I pulled over for gas in White River I found I couldn’t get the car to move forward. When I finally arrived in Toronto it was dark and rainy and I bottomed out about four times on Dufferin Street. By the time I parked around the corner from my friend Paul’s house, where I stayed for three weeks, my nerves were completely shot.
I had just shy of a week to pull myself together. 
I had spent the last eight months learning about territorial politics; about what kind of boots it takes to keep your feet warm in -30C (men’s Wind River, rated to -70, and even those failed me sometimes); about how long I could leave my car unplugged before my battery died; the joys of jamming in a crammed houseboat on a dark winter night; how to avoid being run over when photographing the Northern Lights by the side of the Ingraham Trail and, above all, learning some things about myself. 
I had been a “reporter/photographer” at the Yellowknifer newspaper. We all had this title because all the reporters were responsible for shooting their own photographs. Unfortunately my reporting interests - legislative assembly and courts - didn’t really offer me many opportunities to shoot.
I was pretty rusty and I knew it. I also knew I had been offered the internship at the Globe - one I had wanted ever since I first heard of it - because they felt I could hit the ground running. 
I hoped that I wouldn’t prove them wrong. I continue to hope that every day. 
But before I get started with my Globe updates, here’s some of what I loved about Yellowknife. It’s now been a month and a day since I started interning at the Globe and Mail. The drive back from Yellowknife was long and lonely. My muffler dragged intermittently, secured mainly by a thin piece of looped wire that kept slipping and loosening. I drove at night through fog so thick it looked like clouds were drifting over my headlights. I blew a tire late on a Saturday night and was taken in by wonderful folks named Wendy and Richie Morrisseau, who gave me a glass of wine, a shot of Baileys and a bed. My brakes overheated climbing the steep hills around Marathon with a 3,000-pound trailer attached to my 2005 Nissan Altima and when I pulled over for gas in White River I found I couldn’t get the car to move forward. When I finally arrived in Toronto it was dark and rainy and I bottomed out about four times on Dufferin Street. By the time I parked around the corner from my friend Paul’s house, where I stayed for three weeks, my nerves were completely shot.
I had just shy of a week to pull myself together. 
I had spent the last eight months learning about territorial politics; about what kind of boots it takes to keep your feet warm in -30C (men’s Wind River, rated to -70, and even those failed me sometimes); about how long I could leave my car unplugged before my battery died; the joys of jamming in a crammed houseboat on a dark winter night; how to avoid being run over when photographing the Northern Lights by the side of the Ingraham Trail and, above all, learning some things about myself. 
I had been a “reporter/photographer” at the Yellowknifer newspaper. We all had this title because all the reporters were responsible for shooting their own photographs. Unfortunately my reporting interests - legislative assembly and courts - didn’t really offer me many opportunities to shoot.
I was pretty rusty and I knew it. I also knew I had been offered the internship at the Globe - one I had wanted ever since I first heard of it - because they felt I could hit the ground running. 
I hoped that I wouldn’t prove them wrong. I continue to hope that every day. 
But before I get started with my Globe updates, here’s some of what I loved about Yellowknife. It’s now been a month and a day since I started interning at the Globe and Mail. The drive back from Yellowknife was long and lonely. My muffler dragged intermittently, secured mainly by a thin piece of looped wire that kept slipping and loosening. I drove at night through fog so thick it looked like clouds were drifting over my headlights. I blew a tire late on a Saturday night and was taken in by wonderful folks named Wendy and Richie Morrisseau, who gave me a glass of wine, a shot of Baileys and a bed. My brakes overheated climbing the steep hills around Marathon with a 3,000-pound trailer attached to my 2005 Nissan Altima and when I pulled over for gas in White River I found I couldn’t get the car to move forward. When I finally arrived in Toronto it was dark and rainy and I bottomed out about four times on Dufferin Street. By the time I parked around the corner from my friend Paul’s house, where I stayed for three weeks, my nerves were completely shot.
I had just shy of a week to pull myself together. 
I had spent the last eight months learning about territorial politics; about what kind of boots it takes to keep your feet warm in -30C (men’s Wind River, rated to -70, and even those failed me sometimes); about how long I could leave my car unplugged before my battery died; the joys of jamming in a crammed houseboat on a dark winter night; how to avoid being run over when photographing the Northern Lights by the side of the Ingraham Trail and, above all, learning some things about myself. 
I had been a “reporter/photographer” at the Yellowknifer newspaper. We all had this title because all the reporters were responsible for shooting their own photographs. Unfortunately my reporting interests - legislative assembly and courts - didn’t really offer me many opportunities to shoot.
I was pretty rusty and I knew it. I also knew I had been offered the internship at the Globe - one I had wanted ever since I first heard of it - because they felt I could hit the ground running. 
I hoped that I wouldn’t prove them wrong. I continue to hope that every day. 
But before I get started with my Globe updates, here’s some of what I loved about Yellowknife. It’s now been a month and a day since I started interning at the Globe and Mail. The drive back from Yellowknife was long and lonely. My muffler dragged intermittently, secured mainly by a thin piece of looped wire that kept slipping and loosening. I drove at night through fog so thick it looked like clouds were drifting over my headlights. I blew a tire late on a Saturday night and was taken in by wonderful folks named Wendy and Richie Morrisseau, who gave me a glass of wine, a shot of Baileys and a bed. My brakes overheated climbing the steep hills around Marathon with a 3,000-pound trailer attached to my 2005 Nissan Altima and when I pulled over for gas in White River I found I couldn’t get the car to move forward. When I finally arrived in Toronto it was dark and rainy and I bottomed out about four times on Dufferin Street. By the time I parked around the corner from my friend Paul’s house, where I stayed for three weeks, my nerves were completely shot.
I had just shy of a week to pull myself together. 
I had spent the last eight months learning about territorial politics; about what kind of boots it takes to keep your feet warm in -30C (men’s Wind River, rated to -70, and even those failed me sometimes); about how long I could leave my car unplugged before my battery died; the joys of jamming in a crammed houseboat on a dark winter night; how to avoid being run over when photographing the Northern Lights by the side of the Ingraham Trail and, above all, learning some things about myself. 
I had been a “reporter/photographer” at the Yellowknifer newspaper. We all had this title because all the reporters were responsible for shooting their own photographs. Unfortunately my reporting interests - legislative assembly and courts - didn’t really offer me many opportunities to shoot.
I was pretty rusty and I knew it. I also knew I had been offered the internship at the Globe - one I had wanted ever since I first heard of it - because they felt I could hit the ground running. 
I hoped that I wouldn’t prove them wrong. I continue to hope that every day. 
But before I get started with my Globe updates, here’s some of what I loved about Yellowknife. It’s now been a month and a day since I started interning at the Globe and Mail. The drive back from Yellowknife was long and lonely. My muffler dragged intermittently, secured mainly by a thin piece of looped wire that kept slipping and loosening. I drove at night through fog so thick it looked like clouds were drifting over my headlights. I blew a tire late on a Saturday night and was taken in by wonderful folks named Wendy and Richie Morrisseau, who gave me a glass of wine, a shot of Baileys and a bed. My brakes overheated climbing the steep hills around Marathon with a 3,000-pound trailer attached to my 2005 Nissan Altima and when I pulled over for gas in White River I found I couldn’t get the car to move forward. When I finally arrived in Toronto it was dark and rainy and I bottomed out about four times on Dufferin Street. By the time I parked around the corner from my friend Paul’s house, where I stayed for three weeks, my nerves were completely shot.
I had just shy of a week to pull myself together. 
I had spent the last eight months learning about territorial politics; about what kind of boots it takes to keep your feet warm in -30C (men’s Wind River, rated to -70, and even those failed me sometimes); about how long I could leave my car unplugged before my battery died; the joys of jamming in a crammed houseboat on a dark winter night; how to avoid being run over when photographing the Northern Lights by the side of the Ingraham Trail and, above all, learning some things about myself. 
I had been a “reporter/photographer” at the Yellowknifer newspaper. We all had this title because all the reporters were responsible for shooting their own photographs. Unfortunately my reporting interests - legislative assembly and courts - didn’t really offer me many opportunities to shoot.
I was pretty rusty and I knew it. I also knew I had been offered the internship at the Globe - one I had wanted ever since I first heard of it - because they felt I could hit the ground running. 
I hoped that I wouldn’t prove them wrong. I continue to hope that every day. 
But before I get started with my Globe updates, here’s some of what I loved about Yellowknife. It’s now been a month and a day since I started interning at the Globe and Mail. The drive back from Yellowknife was long and lonely. My muffler dragged intermittently, secured mainly by a thin piece of looped wire that kept slipping and loosening. I drove at night through fog so thick it looked like clouds were drifting over my headlights. I blew a tire late on a Saturday night and was taken in by wonderful folks named Wendy and Richie Morrisseau, who gave me a glass of wine, a shot of Baileys and a bed. My brakes overheated climbing the steep hills around Marathon with a 3,000-pound trailer attached to my 2005 Nissan Altima and when I pulled over for gas in White River I found I couldn’t get the car to move forward. When I finally arrived in Toronto it was dark and rainy and I bottomed out about four times on Dufferin Street. By the time I parked around the corner from my friend Paul’s house, where I stayed for three weeks, my nerves were completely shot.
I had just shy of a week to pull myself together. 
I had spent the last eight months learning about territorial politics; about what kind of boots it takes to keep your feet warm in -30C (men’s Wind River, rated to -70, and even those failed me sometimes); about how long I could leave my car unplugged before my battery died; the joys of jamming in a crammed houseboat on a dark winter night; how to avoid being run over when photographing the Northern Lights by the side of the Ingraham Trail and, above all, learning some things about myself. 
I had been a “reporter/photographer” at the Yellowknifer newspaper. We all had this title because all the reporters were responsible for shooting their own photographs. Unfortunately my reporting interests - legislative assembly and courts - didn’t really offer me many opportunities to shoot.
I was pretty rusty and I knew it. I also knew I had been offered the internship at the Globe - one I had wanted ever since I first heard of it - because they felt I could hit the ground running. 
I hoped that I wouldn’t prove them wrong. I continue to hope that every day. 
But before I get started with my Globe updates, here’s some of what I loved about Yellowknife. It’s now been a month and a day since I started interning at the Globe and Mail. The drive back from Yellowknife was long and lonely. My muffler dragged intermittently, secured mainly by a thin piece of looped wire that kept slipping and loosening. I drove at night through fog so thick it looked like clouds were drifting over my headlights. I blew a tire late on a Saturday night and was taken in by wonderful folks named Wendy and Richie Morrisseau, who gave me a glass of wine, a shot of Baileys and a bed. My brakes overheated climbing the steep hills around Marathon with a 3,000-pound trailer attached to my 2005 Nissan Altima and when I pulled over for gas in White River I found I couldn’t get the car to move forward. When I finally arrived in Toronto it was dark and rainy and I bottomed out about four times on Dufferin Street. By the time I parked around the corner from my friend Paul’s house, where I stayed for three weeks, my nerves were completely shot.
I had just shy of a week to pull myself together. 
I had spent the last eight months learning about territorial politics; about what kind of boots it takes to keep your feet warm in -30C (men’s Wind River, rated to -70, and even those failed me sometimes); about how long I could leave my car unplugged before my battery died; the joys of jamming in a crammed houseboat on a dark winter night; how to avoid being run over when photographing the Northern Lights by the side of the Ingraham Trail and, above all, learning some things about myself. 
I had been a “reporter/photographer” at the Yellowknifer newspaper. We all had this title because all the reporters were responsible for shooting their own photographs. Unfortunately my reporting interests - legislative assembly and courts - didn’t really offer me many opportunities to shoot.
I was pretty rusty and I knew it. I also knew I had been offered the internship at the Globe - one I had wanted ever since I first heard of it - because they felt I could hit the ground running. 
I hoped that I wouldn’t prove them wrong. I continue to hope that every day. 
But before I get started with my Globe updates, here’s some of what I loved about Yellowknife.

It’s now been a month and a day since I started interning at the Globe and Mail. The drive back from Yellowknife was long and lonely. My muffler dragged intermittently, secured mainly by a thin piece of looped wire that kept slipping and loosening. I drove at night through fog so thick it looked like clouds were drifting over my headlights. I blew a tire late on a Saturday night and was taken in by wonderful folks named Wendy and Richie Morrisseau, who gave me a glass of wine, a shot of Baileys and a bed. My brakes overheated climbing the steep hills around Marathon with a 3,000-pound trailer attached to my 2005 Nissan Altima and when I pulled over for gas in White River I found I couldn’t get the car to move forward. When I finally arrived in Toronto it was dark and rainy and I bottomed out about four times on Dufferin Street. By the time I parked around the corner from my friend Paul’s house, where I stayed for three weeks, my nerves were completely shot.

I had just shy of a week to pull myself together. 

I had spent the last eight months learning about territorial politics; about what kind of boots it takes to keep your feet warm in -30C (men’s Wind River, rated to -70, and even those failed me sometimes); about how long I could leave my car unplugged before my battery died; the joys of jamming in a crammed houseboat on a dark winter night; how to avoid being run over when photographing the Northern Lights by the side of the Ingraham Trail and, above all, learning some things about myself. 

I had been a “reporter/photographer” at the Yellowknifer newspaper. We all had this title because all the reporters were responsible for shooting their own photographs. Unfortunately my reporting interests - legislative assembly and courts - didn’t really offer me many opportunities to shoot.

I was pretty rusty and I knew it. I also knew I had been offered the internship at the Globe - one I had wanted ever since I first heard of it - because they felt I could hit the ground running. 

I hoped that I wouldn’t prove them wrong. I continue to hope that every day. 

But before I get started with my Globe updates, here’s some of what I loved about Yellowknife.

Copyright Galit Rodan/NNSL photo

System Operator John Vanthull monitors Yellowknife’s power generation and distribution system from the control room at Jackfish power plant, Tuesday, March 20, 2012. 

  1. Camera: Nikon D3s
  2. Aperture: f/4
  3. Exposure: 1/60th
  4. Focal Length: 24mm
So I haven’t updated my blog in ages and now I’m months behind and it’s going to be a slow, painful process. That’s what I get for slacking. 
About two weeks ago I was sent to take a last-minute portrait of Ice Road Trucker Alex Debogorski with two trophies the Likely, B.C. Archery Rod and Gun Club had presented him with for best wildlife story and best fishing story. 
Alex Debogorski is quite a character and lots of fun to shoot. If my flash hadn’t been taking so long to recycle I think there might have been a few other shots I would have preferred but I was happy with what I came away with. 
And as he was driving me back to the office I took a couple more…
YELLOWKNIFE, NT (26/04/2012) - Alex Debogorski holds trophies for best fishing story and best wildlife story, awarded to him by the Likely Archery Rod and Gun Club at its fish and game banquet in April. 
Link to the article here: http://www.nnsl.com/frames/newspapers/2012-05/may2_12deb.html So I haven’t updated my blog in ages and now I’m months behind and it’s going to be a slow, painful process. That’s what I get for slacking. 
About two weeks ago I was sent to take a last-minute portrait of Ice Road Trucker Alex Debogorski with two trophies the Likely, B.C. Archery Rod and Gun Club had presented him with for best wildlife story and best fishing story. 
Alex Debogorski is quite a character and lots of fun to shoot. If my flash hadn’t been taking so long to recycle I think there might have been a few other shots I would have preferred but I was happy with what I came away with. 
And as he was driving me back to the office I took a couple more…
YELLOWKNIFE, NT (26/04/2012) - Alex Debogorski holds trophies for best fishing story and best wildlife story, awarded to him by the Likely Archery Rod and Gun Club at its fish and game banquet in April. 
Link to the article here: http://www.nnsl.com/frames/newspapers/2012-05/may2_12deb.html So I haven’t updated my blog in ages and now I’m months behind and it’s going to be a slow, painful process. That’s what I get for slacking. 
About two weeks ago I was sent to take a last-minute portrait of Ice Road Trucker Alex Debogorski with two trophies the Likely, B.C. Archery Rod and Gun Club had presented him with for best wildlife story and best fishing story. 
Alex Debogorski is quite a character and lots of fun to shoot. If my flash hadn’t been taking so long to recycle I think there might have been a few other shots I would have preferred but I was happy with what I came away with. 
And as he was driving me back to the office I took a couple more…
YELLOWKNIFE, NT (26/04/2012) - Alex Debogorski holds trophies for best fishing story and best wildlife story, awarded to him by the Likely Archery Rod and Gun Club at its fish and game banquet in April. 
Link to the article here: http://www.nnsl.com/frames/newspapers/2012-05/may2_12deb.html

So I haven’t updated my blog in ages and now I’m months behind and it’s going to be a slow, painful process. That’s what I get for slacking. 

About two weeks ago I was sent to take a last-minute portrait of Ice Road Trucker Alex Debogorski with two trophies the Likely, B.C. Archery Rod and Gun Club had presented him with for best wildlife story and best fishing story. 

Alex Debogorski is quite a character and lots of fun to shoot. If my flash hadn’t been taking so long to recycle I think there might have been a few other shots I would have preferred but I was happy with what I came away with. 

And as he was driving me back to the office I took a couple more…

YELLOWKNIFE, NT (26/04/2012) - Alex Debogorski holds trophies for best fishing story and best wildlife story, awarded to him by the Likely Archery Rod and Gun Club at its fish and game banquet in April. 

Link to the article here: http://www.nnsl.com/frames/newspapers/2012-05/may2_12deb.html

Galit Rodan/NNSL photo

Lead Auditor Ruth Sullivan, left, Principal Glen Wheeler, Auditor General Michael Ferguson and Assistant Auditor General Jerome Berthelette took questions from members of the legislative assembly’s standing committee on government operations, Monday, March 23. 

Ferguson was in Yellowknife to discuss the Status Report of the Auditor General of Canada to the Northwest Territories Legislative Assembly, tabled February 14.

Story here: http://www.nnsl.com/frames/newspapers/2012-03/mar28_12ag.html

  1. Camera: Nikon D3s
  2. Aperture: f/2.8
  3. Exposure: 1/320th
  4. Focal Length: 70mm

You could probably take the same picture of me through the window in front of my desk at work. Early spring ennui on a grey day.

Yellowknife cat through a window looking onto an alley beside the newsroom - April 3, 2012.

  1. Camera: Canon EOS 40D
  2. Aperture: f/5.6
  3. Exposure: 1/1250th
  4. Focal Length: 314mm
I’ve been wanting to shoot the Northern Lights since I arrived in Yellowknife and finally, on Monday, I got to. 
I probably should have done this ages ago but a number of factors - cloudiness/frigid temperatures/early mornings and, admittedly, sometimes laziness - stood in my way. 
I went out around 10 p.m. Monday and stayed out for about two hours. My fingers froze at times and I was a little afraid for my and Adam’s lives when I made him pull over on the side of the Ingraham Trail and turn the headlights and hazards off, but thankfully we made it through alive and with all fingers in tact. It was an unreal experience, too - I was absolutely elated. 
I’m pretty happy with how these turned out, considering it was my first time. Getting to a prime viewing location and making sure I wasn’t missing my focus were probably the most challenging parts. I’m really, really excited to try again. I’ve been wanting to shoot the Northern Lights since I arrived in Yellowknife and finally, on Monday, I got to. 
I probably should have done this ages ago but a number of factors - cloudiness/frigid temperatures/early mornings and, admittedly, sometimes laziness - stood in my way. 
I went out around 10 p.m. Monday and stayed out for about two hours. My fingers froze at times and I was a little afraid for my and Adam’s lives when I made him pull over on the side of the Ingraham Trail and turn the headlights and hazards off, but thankfully we made it through alive and with all fingers in tact. It was an unreal experience, too - I was absolutely elated. 
I’m pretty happy with how these turned out, considering it was my first time. Getting to a prime viewing location and making sure I wasn’t missing my focus were probably the most challenging parts. I’m really, really excited to try again. I’ve been wanting to shoot the Northern Lights since I arrived in Yellowknife and finally, on Monday, I got to. 
I probably should have done this ages ago but a number of factors - cloudiness/frigid temperatures/early mornings and, admittedly, sometimes laziness - stood in my way. 
I went out around 10 p.m. Monday and stayed out for about two hours. My fingers froze at times and I was a little afraid for my and Adam’s lives when I made him pull over on the side of the Ingraham Trail and turn the headlights and hazards off, but thankfully we made it through alive and with all fingers in tact. It was an unreal experience, too - I was absolutely elated. 
I’m pretty happy with how these turned out, considering it was my first time. Getting to a prime viewing location and making sure I wasn’t missing my focus were probably the most challenging parts. I’m really, really excited to try again. I’ve been wanting to shoot the Northern Lights since I arrived in Yellowknife and finally, on Monday, I got to. 
I probably should have done this ages ago but a number of factors - cloudiness/frigid temperatures/early mornings and, admittedly, sometimes laziness - stood in my way. 
I went out around 10 p.m. Monday and stayed out for about two hours. My fingers froze at times and I was a little afraid for my and Adam’s lives when I made him pull over on the side of the Ingraham Trail and turn the headlights and hazards off, but thankfully we made it through alive and with all fingers in tact. It was an unreal experience, too - I was absolutely elated. 
I’m pretty happy with how these turned out, considering it was my first time. Getting to a prime viewing location and making sure I wasn’t missing my focus were probably the most challenging parts. I’m really, really excited to try again. I’ve been wanting to shoot the Northern Lights since I arrived in Yellowknife and finally, on Monday, I got to. 
I probably should have done this ages ago but a number of factors - cloudiness/frigid temperatures/early mornings and, admittedly, sometimes laziness - stood in my way. 
I went out around 10 p.m. Monday and stayed out for about two hours. My fingers froze at times and I was a little afraid for my and Adam’s lives when I made him pull over on the side of the Ingraham Trail and turn the headlights and hazards off, but thankfully we made it through alive and with all fingers in tact. It was an unreal experience, too - I was absolutely elated. 
I’m pretty happy with how these turned out, considering it was my first time. Getting to a prime viewing location and making sure I wasn’t missing my focus were probably the most challenging parts. I’m really, really excited to try again.

I’ve been wanting to shoot the Northern Lights since I arrived in Yellowknife and finally, on Monday, I got to. 

I probably should have done this ages ago but a number of factors - cloudiness/frigid temperatures/early mornings and, admittedly, sometimes laziness - stood in my way. 

I went out around 10 p.m. Monday and stayed out for about two hours. My fingers froze at times and I was a little afraid for my and Adam’s lives when I made him pull over on the side of the Ingraham Trail and turn the headlights and hazards off, but thankfully we made it through alive and with all fingers in tact. It was an unreal experience, too - I was absolutely elated. 

I’m pretty happy with how these turned out, considering it was my first time. Getting to a prime viewing location and making sure I wasn’t missing my focus were probably the most challenging parts. I’m really, really excited to try again.

Five more Brrrlesque shots.  I can’t help it.
1) Sarah Elsasser (as Eva Knievel) cartwheels over the legs of Andrea Edmunds (as GG Delicia)
2) (Left to right) Kate Witherly (as Kiki Kincaid), Andrea Edmunds (as GG Delicia), Paco Greau (as Manzelle O alila Folie) and Sarah Elsasser (as Eva Knievel) performed the Can Can as the Klondike Girls.
3) In “Through the Smoke Screen,” Nicole Garbutt (as Lucy Caboose) and Kayla Cooper (as Lucy Caboose) examined the difference between a man’s perception of how a woman gets ready for a night out and what really happens
4) Rebecca Davis (as Lily Mae Dawgwood) showed off her frilly Habs bloomers at the end of her act, “Good Ol’ Hockey Dame”.
5) Margaret Bell (as Sassparilla Honeypotts) gets a few extra hands with her outfit in “Birds in a Cage”.  Five more Brrrlesque shots.  I can’t help it.
1) Sarah Elsasser (as Eva Knievel) cartwheels over the legs of Andrea Edmunds (as GG Delicia)
2) (Left to right) Kate Witherly (as Kiki Kincaid), Andrea Edmunds (as GG Delicia), Paco Greau (as Manzelle O alila Folie) and Sarah Elsasser (as Eva Knievel) performed the Can Can as the Klondike Girls.
3) In “Through the Smoke Screen,” Nicole Garbutt (as Lucy Caboose) and Kayla Cooper (as Lucy Caboose) examined the difference between a man’s perception of how a woman gets ready for a night out and what really happens
4) Rebecca Davis (as Lily Mae Dawgwood) showed off her frilly Habs bloomers at the end of her act, “Good Ol’ Hockey Dame”.
5) Margaret Bell (as Sassparilla Honeypotts) gets a few extra hands with her outfit in “Birds in a Cage”.  Five more Brrrlesque shots.  I can’t help it.
1) Sarah Elsasser (as Eva Knievel) cartwheels over the legs of Andrea Edmunds (as GG Delicia)
2) (Left to right) Kate Witherly (as Kiki Kincaid), Andrea Edmunds (as GG Delicia), Paco Greau (as Manzelle O alila Folie) and Sarah Elsasser (as Eva Knievel) performed the Can Can as the Klondike Girls.
3) In “Through the Smoke Screen,” Nicole Garbutt (as Lucy Caboose) and Kayla Cooper (as Lucy Caboose) examined the difference between a man’s perception of how a woman gets ready for a night out and what really happens
4) Rebecca Davis (as Lily Mae Dawgwood) showed off her frilly Habs bloomers at the end of her act, “Good Ol’ Hockey Dame”.
5) Margaret Bell (as Sassparilla Honeypotts) gets a few extra hands with her outfit in “Birds in a Cage”.  Five more Brrrlesque shots.  I can’t help it.
1) Sarah Elsasser (as Eva Knievel) cartwheels over the legs of Andrea Edmunds (as GG Delicia)
2) (Left to right) Kate Witherly (as Kiki Kincaid), Andrea Edmunds (as GG Delicia), Paco Greau (as Manzelle O alila Folie) and Sarah Elsasser (as Eva Knievel) performed the Can Can as the Klondike Girls.
3) In “Through the Smoke Screen,” Nicole Garbutt (as Lucy Caboose) and Kayla Cooper (as Lucy Caboose) examined the difference between a man’s perception of how a woman gets ready for a night out and what really happens
4) Rebecca Davis (as Lily Mae Dawgwood) showed off her frilly Habs bloomers at the end of her act, “Good Ol’ Hockey Dame”.
5) Margaret Bell (as Sassparilla Honeypotts) gets a few extra hands with her outfit in “Birds in a Cage”.  Five more Brrrlesque shots.  I can’t help it.
1) Sarah Elsasser (as Eva Knievel) cartwheels over the legs of Andrea Edmunds (as GG Delicia)
2) (Left to right) Kate Witherly (as Kiki Kincaid), Andrea Edmunds (as GG Delicia), Paco Greau (as Manzelle O alila Folie) and Sarah Elsasser (as Eva Knievel) performed the Can Can as the Klondike Girls.
3) In “Through the Smoke Screen,” Nicole Garbutt (as Lucy Caboose) and Kayla Cooper (as Lucy Caboose) examined the difference between a man’s perception of how a woman gets ready for a night out and what really happens
4) Rebecca Davis (as Lily Mae Dawgwood) showed off her frilly Habs bloomers at the end of her act, “Good Ol’ Hockey Dame”.
5) Margaret Bell (as Sassparilla Honeypotts) gets a few extra hands with her outfit in “Birds in a Cage”. 

Five more Brrrlesque shots.  I can’t help it.

1) Sarah Elsasser (as Eva Knievel) cartwheels over the legs of Andrea Edmunds (as GG Delicia)

2) (Left to right) Kate Witherly (as Kiki Kincaid), Andrea Edmunds (as GG Delicia), Paco Greau (as Manzelle O alila Folie) and Sarah Elsasser (as Eva Knievel) performed the Can Can as the Klondike Girls.

3) In “Through the Smoke Screen,” Nicole Garbutt (as Lucy Caboose) and Kayla Cooper (as Lucy Caboose) examined the difference between a man’s perception of how a woman gets ready for a night out and what really happens

4) Rebecca Davis (as Lily Mae Dawgwood) showed off her frilly Habs bloomers at the end of her act, “Good Ol’ Hockey Dame”.

5) Margaret Bell (as Sassparilla Honeypotts) gets a few extra hands with her outfit in “Birds in a Cage”.