Welcome back to Material Reculturing! For those new to the column, I’ve undertaken to write these every month, alternating between first-person stories from my life as a mediocre environmentalist (this is one of those), and stories from other people who are also wrestling with the contradictions we inhabit in our current material culture. If you have a story you’d like to share, especially (but not necessarily) if it’s something concrete you’re trying to do, maybe even with pictures, please send it to [email protected] and I will try to use it in the next article.
I try not to drive.
I often fail. And then how much difference does it make, me avoiding driving 14 kilometres downtown and back (when I then travel to Ontario)? This contradiction challenged my mental health when I drove across the country with an art show that included a lot of glass and ceramic sculpture. I carpooled on the way home to try to reduce the impact. But still, it drove me a little crazy.
What works for me may not work for others. I live in Hillcrest, so walking downtown takes about an hour each way, depending where downtown I need to get to. Living even as far as Porter Creek, this becomes impossible. I’m a woman in her fifties, in reasonable physical condition. I’m not taking an ableist position that everyone can walk.
I’m a bit on-again, off-again with the walking thing—not unlike some smokers. Trying not to drive is a mental and emotional exploration for me that I hope you can find something useful in. There may be more articles from this practice. But let’s get out the door …
If we’re going to reduce our carbon footprint, we will certainly have to change many of our habits. But we store a lot of our thinking in our habits.
I am walking downtown. I feel quite smug that I got myself out the door to get downtown in time to walk down to my shift at Yukon Artists At Work. As I come around the outside of the airport, I realize that I left my phone at home. Oh well—that’s nothing new. But then, as I come down the stairs I realize I forgot my keys. Not only do I have to use them to open the gallery, but two other people are depending on me doing that. I rush to my partner’s workplace, borrow his vehicle, drive home, grab my keys and phone and drive back down. I open the gallery on time. So much for my carbon savings. It was a nice walk though.
If I had had my truck with me, I would have had the keys, because I couldn’t start it without them. As I left that day, I walked right past the sign in all caps on the door that asks “KEYS? PHONE?”
Another thing that takes thought is using Whitehorse transit. I like riding the bus, for many reasons. It tends to lead to more walking. Living in Hillcrest, if you are willing to walk a bit less than a kilometre, you can get to a bus more than once an hour. Then again, by the time you’ve walked that far, maybe it’s best to just walk downtown.
I have tried hard to ride buses here for a long time, and it takes a different kind of effort and research to figure out how. I have often described it as learning how to collaborate with an idiosyncratic friend. Often I find myself the only person on the bus. I feel like it’s almost a civic duty to use the bus if I can. If more of us used it, maybe service would become more frequent.
For the most part, my dog, Itsy, really likes it when we walk downtown. Taking him along commits me to walking back home with him, or driving or getting a ride. In many municipalities, you can bring a leashed dog on public transit, but they’re not allowed here in Whitehorse. In Toronto, “Leashed dogs or pets secured in an enclosed container are welcome to travel on the TTC during weekends and weekday off-peak periods— that is before 6:30 a.m.; 10 a.m. to 3:30 p.m.; after 7 p.m.” Something like this, here in Whitehorse, would certainly help me integrate transit and walking into my days.
I’m heading downtown for a rehearsal. I’m waiting at the bus stop with my ukulele in its case. Maxime stops, with a guitar in the back of their car, and gives me a lift downtown. Good thing, too! Because I had thought the rehearsal was at 6:30 and it was actually at 6:15. At least I remembered my keys this time.
No one will stop and give you a ride if you’re already driving. And if we carpool, we’re using less fossil fuels, emitting less carbon. The vulnerability of being a mere human at the side of the road can lead to connecting with other people, to a kind of community-building. I hadn’t met Maxime before, but we had many shared interests.
My thoughts here are informed by the work of the Yukon First Nations Climate Actions Fellowship. Young Indigenous leaders have put together a document addressing climate change, called “Reconnection Vision.” You can find it at https://reconnection.vision/. You can even request a hard copy of your own. I highly recommend it.
What’s the difference between commuting and pilgrimage? From going for a hike and getting downtown?
Walking to courses at Yukon College (at the time), I would pass through the tank farm and cross the highway at the top of Two Mile Hill before getting back into the woods behind the Geological Survey offices. I loved the time in the woods. I didn’t love, but was educated by, the blackness of the snow at the lights there, breathing the air there, altered by all those vehicles idling, waiting for their turn to go.
I am often one of those drivers. When I am in my truck and I see the blue-lit bus interiors go by, I feel a bit homesick for them. When I am in my truck, I remember that I am depriving myself of the pleasure of walking.
So maybe I’m not trying not to drive. Maybe I’m trying to learn how to walk.
What are you trying to learn to do? Send me your stories. I will try to include them in the next column. [email protected].
