It’s almost a summer ritual. One—or both—of the highways connecting the Yukon to southern Canada shuts down because of wildfires or floods. If the closure lasts a few days, grocery shelves in Whitehorse start to empty. I still remember struggling to find salad greens in July 2022, after the Alaska Highway was washed out in northern British Columbia.

Nearly everything Yukoners eat is trucked in. Only an estimated 2 to 4 percent is commercially cultivated here. A short growing season, limited arable land, and poor-quality soil make farming an unforgiving grind. In recent years, the precarity of our food supply has become more and more obvious, with the Yukon Agricultural Association seeing an uptick in inquiries about what’s available locally and where to buy it. (The YAA refers people to its online directory, the Yukon Farm Guide.)

But while agriculture might seem a no-go so far north, a small, resourceful band of farmers and producers is proving otherwise. In fact, you might be surprised by what can be coaxed from the land. Whitehorse stores sell potatoes, vegetables, eggs, flour, baking mixes, and sausages. A cheese shop stocks Polarbert from a dairy close to Dawson City. At markets, you can find sundry veggies. (Back in 2022, on the hunt for leafy greens, I located some in Sarah’s Harvest, an organic garden about fifty kilometres north of Whitehorse.) Across the Klondike River, a nursery yields apples and grapes. First Nations are involved too: since 2014, the Tr’ondëk Hwëch’in Farm has supplied the Dawson area with fresh produce such as lettuce and, in more recent years, eggs and meat.

That shift—toward local control over what communities eat—is happening across the North. Remote regions are looking for ways to feed........

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