9 minute read
Yoga in the yukon
Jan Albin-Bullock goes through her practice amid the wonders of a nearly people-free scenery of Hart River in the Yukon Territory of Canada.
By Jan Al in-Bulloc
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The sun is well above the horizon and because it is July in the north, I know that it will light the sky until midnight.
I find a flat place on the pebble beach, careful to avoid the small purple flowers. I lay down my mat and then lay flat on my back.
After several adjustments, moving pokey rocks, changing the angle of the mat to maximize the flat space, I begin my practice.
I breathe. Movement; water, wind, breath. I move through my imperfect practice. Muscles sore from paddling lengthen and open. Spine becomes aligned. The shadows are my mirror and the water is my meditation. My practice is here in this remote land.
While I love a good yoga studio with smooth floors, I
20 | The Good Life www.ncwgoodlife.com | June 2020 have found that the earth is not flat and the temperature is not controlled. This practice on the river requires me to deal with the elements first hand.
Adjusting to the earth as it presents itself brings a different dimension to the poses I have practiced for years. There is new understanding as I deal with bugs, sun, wind and rain.
Small obstacles allow for adaptations and make flexibility a necessary component.
A headstand in rubberboots and raingear makes me smile. Sharing my mat with small spiders and sand allows me to move through the irritations and into my breath.
My husband and I have traveled to the Yukon Territory to explore the rivers for over 15 years. Our travels have led us to the remote rivers of the Peel Watershed in the Yukon Territory.
This year, we will float the Hart River. To get there, we arrive in Whitehorse, capital of the Yukon Territory. We finalize our supplies and trip plans, then drive about four hours to the float planes in Mayo, Yukon.
From here we load a float plane, get dropped off at Elliot Lake where we rig our boats and our trip begins. Adjusting to the earth as it presents itself brings a different dimension to the poses I have practiced for years. There is new understanding as I deal with bugs, sun, wind and rain.
We travel from the lake, down the twisty, small Elliot Creek and then finally arrive at the confluence of the Hart River.
This land is vast. The human population becomes smaller as we travel to the river and the space becomes filled with rocks, water, trees and wildlife.
The weather will be warm, sunny, windy, rainy, cold, sometimes all in the same day.
We will be on this river for 20 days. We leapfrog with one other group of canoeists and from the reports, our group is one of four that will run this river this season.
Our lives become simple; wake, eat, load the gear, push off, paddle the river, find a perfect campsite (protected from the wind, flat tent sites, plentiful firewood.) We set up camp, make a good fire, eat, practice (daily yoga), tell stories, read and sleep.
While the routine is the same, each day on the river delivers a new experience; fast moving water, upstream wind, rapids, possible portages, easy floating, strenuous paddling.
Part of the routine each day is to shake our heads in wonder of this land.
Honestly, the mosquitoes are at times horrible, but 90 percent of the time, we are free from the tiny beasts.
There is light, all day in this land of the midnight sun.
I celebrate the sand on my skin and the rocks beneath me the same as I celebrate the colors in the sky and the movement of the water.
It’s here in the Yukon, that I can travel across the wild land and rivers and put to work my practice, allowing for heart, mind and breath to come together.
Jan Albin-Bullock has lived and worked in Wenatchee for most of her life. She works at WestSide High School and is thankful to spend as much time as possible hiking, skiing, paddling and biking in our amazing area.
>> RANDOM QUOTE
Our greatest glo ry is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall. Confucius
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South Korea? Let’s do it
Great timing for an island wedding, Korean mermaids and a taste of the sea
By Mari Fore an Groff
Last September, my husband Alan and I traveled to our Best Man’s wedding in South Korea.
It was a big deal to us at the time, but now, with COVID-19 “stay home, stay healthy” mindset, it seems downright extravagant.
Prior to receiving our friend’s wedding invitation, we had never heard of Jeju — a semitropical, volcanic island, about 700 square miles, located below the southern tip of South Korea, in between China and Japan.
I googled it: Jeju, known as “honeymoon island,” great beaches, volcanic landscape, verdant hiking, exports tangerines and green tea, home to what may be the last generation of Haenyeo, Korean mermaids.
We splurged and booked the trip.
The wedding was a beautiful, multinational affair; never had we been to an event where so many different languages were spoken.
At the wedding luncheon, we sat next to a Korean American who had not been back to Korea since leaving as a young child. Over the next several days we would meet others with similar stories.
During the Korean War, Koreans who could fled the violence and poverty engulfing the Korean peninsula, and raised their children in various far-flung countries (our friend grew up in Brazil, and then the U.S., his wife in Singapore, then England). Now, some of these adult children and grandchildren are returning to visit, even live, in prospering South Korea.
The luncheon boasted an amazing buffet of more than 40 different Korean style dishes — ranging from abalone, octopus, and sea cucumber, to spicy black pork, an island specialty, to strange vegetables (lotus root?) I’d never seen before.
And, of course, kimchi. (Koreans really do serve kimchi with every meal. We’ve become huge fans of the spicy fermented stuff).
When our new friend tasted the abalone she smiled, explaining “I haven’t had this for so many years. It brings back memories.”
She encouraged us to try it. “It tastes like... the sea.” I tried many new foods that day, but passed on the strange looking abalone.
The next day, we hired a local guide named Suzie to show us around Jeju Island. We hiked volcano craters, visited Jeju City, and ate lunch at a local favorite spot: tofu soup, steamed tofu, fried tofu, tofu pancakes, tofu wrapped in soybean leaves. It was good.
But the highlight was a close encounter with the Haenyeo, female divers, also known as Korean mermaids.
After hiking up the seaside Seongsan Ilchulbong volcano crater, we descended to the beach below where the Haenyeo were at work. Their orange, pumpkin shaped buoys bobbed out in the cove, serving the dual purpose of marking their presence and holding up fishing nets.
Korean mermaid fresh from the sea pricing her wares.
The female divers we met that day ranged from age 50 to 81 years old. Haenyeo do not use breathing equipment; they just hold their breath, for two minutes at a time, and dive down, 30 to 60 feet, where they pry their catch off the ocean floor. They wore black wetsuits (Korea Strait is cold!), snorkel masks and a weight belt.
After their nets were full of little octopus, seaweed, conch and the celebrated abalone, the mermaids swam in, unloading at a seaside table. They hacked shells and sliced seafood. We watched eager purchasers pay $50 for a plate of raw seafood, then eat it up right there on the beach.
That might sound like a lot, but these women do not make much. They swim up to six hours a day and spend the afternoon shelling their catch,
The view from the ascent up Seongsan Ilchulbong, a tuff cone formed about 5,000 years ago. It’s famous for its beautiful bowl shaped crater resembling a castle. The freshest conch, octopus, and abalone, rinsed and ready to eat.
the best earning up to $25,000 a year.
And it’s dangerous work. There are sharks, rip tides, boats and bad weather with which to contend. Every year a few Haenyeo are lost to accidents or, more commonly, heart attacks.
We learned that diving for food has been a part of Korean history for a thousand years. But at some point in the 1600s, diving went from being a man’s job to being dominated by females. Why? The answer is not certain, but war probably had a lot to do with it — as in, mandatory male army conscription.
Korea’s 4,000 year long history is a turbulent one; the peninsula has been invaded many times by various countries including China, Mongolia, Japan, and the U.S (1871).
Yet, consistently from the 17th Century to today, Haenyeo have provided food and income to their families. Some call them the original working mothers.
But the numbers of Korean mermaids are dropping.
Suzie explained there are too many educational and occupational opportunities for young women now to choose this. These women here today, she told us, are probably the last of the Haenyeo.
We spent the final days of our trip up north in the hip, techy city of Seoul. The modern, urban values felt a striking contrast to the traditional Haenyeo and quiet Jeju Island.
As we prepared to come home, I reflected on our newly married friends, the beauty of Jeju, the brave Haenyeo, and the notion of grown children making the pilgrimage back to the land of their parents and grandparents… and I tried abalone.
You know what? It tasted like the sea.
