#07 - Welcome to Wal-Town?

The more things change…

In the dead of winter, the City of Whitehorse is full of life and colour. The frosted trees along Main Street are tangled with festive lights, people are flush with the holiday glow, and the promise of other winter traditions on the brightening horizon—the Yukon Quest, Frostbite (the music festival, not the medical condition) and Rendezvous—gives the place an air of optimism.

So, I find it funny that around this very time last year, a group known as the überculture collective showed up to screen a documentary called Wal-Town. Indeed, the world’s largest retailer set up shop a stone’s throw from the Yukon River several years ago. Less certain is one of Wal-Town’s implications: that this big-box store will inevitably destroy our city’s unique character, if not the city itself.

I didn’t catch the film or the post-screening discussion, but I suspect I’ve heard similar arguments on other occasions. Like bad fire seasons, controversy about Whitehorse’s commercial evolution periodically tears through the local environment. And as Starbucks is poised to penetrate the very heart of the downtown core with its second local outlet, I wouldn’t be surprised if things heat up again.

The truth is, Wal-Mart wouldn’t exist in my version of a perfect Yukon. Nor would Starbucks, for that matter.

But I also realize that progress inevitably elbows its way into this place, as it does almost everywhere else. Historically, the trappings of the modern world have managed to sniff the Yukon out, no matter how remote it seemed. One after the other, Outside forces have appeared on the landscape—the Hudson Bay Company, the White Pass & Yukon Route railroad, the U.S. Army, mining conglomerates, national chain stores, multinational behemoths, you name it. Each has produced its own profound effects. And in most cases, the population welcomed these effects.

Naturally, there are some Yukoners who see a paradise diminished or even lost with each new development. Maybe they move on, deeper into the land’s wildest nooks and crannies, beyond the clutches of modernity. There’s always a place if you look hard enough. Meanwhile, newcomers find their way to the Yukon, including Whitehorse, where they discover something they love—warts and all—and decide to stick around.

The irony is, the newest arrivals are often the most anxious to stop the clock. They have romantic ideals. The rest of us just accept the fact that, while our giant Canadian Tire store will never have the ramshackle charm of Nelson’s Hardware (displaced years ago by our first Tim Horton’s franchise), Whitehorse is more than just the signs on our storefronts. We know that the Yukon’s willingness to welcome change and yet, somehow, remain uniquely itself is as true to local character as anything else. We also know that nothing rubs harder against the grain of Yukon tradition than collectivist tendencies to dictate against free will and free enterprise.

So, let the changes continue. Canadian Tire has joined Wal-Mart along the bends of Two Mile Hill, just down the road from the venerable Yukon Tire. We’re surviving. The new Starbucks will be cornered by three branches of big national banks, which aren’t exactly homegrown businesses—yet somehow manage to evade the wrath of the local anti-globalization crowd. Tomorrow, something else will come along and Yukoners will do what we always do: we’ll adjust.

Meanwhile, the Yukon River slides timelessly by.

Grey Mountain and Golden Horn still size each other up across the broad valley.

The same old trails lead to new discoveries.

As ever, the ravens play their crazy tricks.

And, yes, gophers occasionally get caught in traffic. Let’s save the eulogies for them. The Yukon’s capital feels totally alive.

This column was first published in the January/February 2008 issue of above&beyond magazine.

© 2008 Mark Koepke / Photo by Christine Todd