Softball at the End of the World

This article originally appeared in August 2014.

It's a bright July day in Whitehorse, Canada, and the air, usually quiet and calm and almost crushing in its stillness, is filled with the sound of engines. You can hear the baritone grunt of diesel as pickup trucks and rusted four-by-fours and tiny hatchbacks with busted mufflers file down the street, puffing out exhaust that swirls up from tailpipes and disappears against a backdrop of endless spruce trees.

The vehicles are heading to...

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