The air hit my face with that Northern snap I’ve come to associate with Whitehorse – crisp even as summer approaches. Today’s assignment would take me inside the newly opened mental health facility at Whitehorse General Hospital, a project years in the making and one that speaks volumes about how we’re finally confronting the mental health needs in Canada’s northern communities.
“It’s a space designed with healing in mind, not just treatment,” explains Dr. Ella Rasmussen, Clinical Director of Mental Health Services, as she meets me at the entrance. The $72-million facility stands in stark contrast to the outdated spaces it replaces – all soft curves and warm wood tones reminiscent of the surrounding Yukon landscape.
Walking through the main doors, what strikes me immediately is the light. Floor-to-ceiling windows capture the spectacular mountain views while flooding common areas with natural brightness. Research from the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health shows that exposure to natural light can reduce average hospital stays by almost 15% – something clearly factored into the design here.
“We wanted to move away from the institutional feel that can actually increase anxiety in patients,” says architectural lead Thomas Wong of Northern Collaborative Designs. “Each element – from the Indigenous artwork to the visibility lines – was chosen with trauma-informed care principles in mind.”
The 25-bed inpatient unit incorporates private rooms organized in circular clusters – a deliberate nod to traditional healing circles important to many of the Yukon First Nations communities served here. Walking the corridors, I notice the subtle integration of natural materials: river stone accents, local timber, and wall coverings depicting regional landscapes.
What’s especially meaningful is how the facility represents a departure from colonial approaches to mental health. Nearly 25% of Yukon’s population identifies as Indigenous, and the hospital worked closely with First Nations health authorities throughout the planning process. The result includes dedicated spaces for traditional healing practices, with rooms designed for smudging ceremonies and areas where Elders can meet with patients.
“This place recognizes that healing happens in many ways,” says Sarah Johns, a member of the Kwanlin Dün First Nation who serves on the hospital’s community advisory board. “For generations, our people had to leave their communities, their support systems, everything familiar, just to get mental health support. That separation often caused more trauma.”
The statistics behind this facility tell a sobering story. According to the Government of Yukon’s 2022 health assessment, the territory has faced suicide rates nearly double the national average, with communities struggling with intergenerational trauma, addiction issues, and limited access to care. Until now, severe mental health crises often meant emergency medical transport to facilities in British Columbia or Alberta – sometimes over 2,000 kilometers away.
In one quiet corner, a young woman sits sketching in the art therapy room. The space is filled with natural light and supplies. I learn later she had previously been sent to Vancouver for treatment – separated from family for months. Now she can receive care while remaining connected to her community.
The facility also houses the territory’s first dedicated youth mental health unit, a critical addition considering that the Mental Health Commission of Canada reports that 70% of mental health problems begin during childhood or adolescence. The youth spaces feature age-appropriate design elements, outdoor recreation areas, and technology that allows for virtual family visits for those from more remote communities.
As we tour the outpatient clinic, Dr. Rasmussen points out subtle but important design features: consultation rooms with two exits to ensure both patients and providers feel safe, walls painted in calming blues and greens drawn from the Yukon landscape, and sound-dampening materials that create a sense of privacy without isolation.
“Mental health treatment isn’t just about the medical interventions,” she explains. “It’s about creating environments where people feel secure enough to be vulnerable, where they can begin to heal.”
The facility also addresses a long-standing northern challenge: recruiting and retaining qualified mental health professionals. With purpose-built staff areas, advanced telehealth capabilities, and dedicated research space, the hospital hopes to attract specialists who might otherwise choose urban centers.
“We’ve already seen increased interest from psychiatrists and specialized nurses,” notes Hospital Administrator David Laxton. “Having modern facilities makes a tremendous difference in our ability to offer the full spectrum of care here in the territory.”
What makes this facility particularly remarkable is that it emerged from a collaborative process spanning nearly a decade. Community consultations began in 2014, with patient advocacy groups, First Nations governments, and healthcare providers all contributing to the vision. Construction finally broke ground in 2020, navigating pandemic delays and the unique challenges of building in the North.
As the afternoon sunlight streams through the windows of the central gathering space, I watch as staff and patients move through the building with a sense of purpose and calm that feels worlds away from the institutional environments I’ve visited elsewhere.
One elder, who asks not to be named, tells me, “This place feels like it belongs here, like it’s part of our community. That matters when you’re trying to heal.”
Before leaving, I visit the rooftop garden where raised beds will soon be planted with traditional medicinal herbs alongside vegetables for the facility’s kitchen. The view stretches across Whitehorse to the mountains beyond – a reminder of the resilience and beauty that characterize this territory.
This facility represents more than just modern healthcare architecture; it embodies a fundamental shift in how we approach mental health in northern communities – one that acknowledges cultural context, community connections, and the importance of healing environments. As Canada continues to reckon with the gaps in our mental health systems, particularly in rural and Indigenous communities, Whitehorse’s new facility offers both a model and a promise of what compassionate care can look like.
