Yukon River 2

July 11
At last, we're back on the water again! Whitehorse was nice, but I'm beginning to be restless and its good to be off. After several hours of loading, unloading , car shuttling and last minute grocery shopping, we set off around 10:30. The current and our well-rested bodies carried us quickly along the river. At every turn the mountains shifted, and different views opened out in front of us. We took frequent breaks which, since the current was carrying us along at 3 1/2 miles an hour, really didn't hinder our progress.

Around 3:30, we made it to Lake Laberge, the start of our last big lake crossing. Just at the mouth of the river, there were numerous grass covered mud flats speckled with sea gulls. To the east was a spectacular ridge of rocky domed mountains. The bare round rock faces were reminiscent of the domes in Tuolumne meadows in Yosemite.

Soon we rounded the bend and entered the lake itself. The vast expanse of water, in combination with the lack of current, made it feel like we were going very slowly. We hugged the shoreline, and watched the points, coves, and trees creep by.

We stopped paddling relatively early, 5:30, having come about 45km. The entire day has been crystal clear and very sunny. We're all feeling a little baked and dehydrated. In the evening before dinner, Dave was looking for a shady spot to snooze. In the end, he set the canoe on its side and spread out in the shade of his "canoe cabana". It's still sunny now at 10:15 PM and I have my sunglasses on while lying in the tent!

-Lexi

July 12
Since Lake Laberge is a 32 mile long wave generator, we put extra care into constructing today's sailing vessel. Extra long spars gave us more space between boats to allow for overtaking waves to pass without washing in. A fixed port mast allowed us to tack more effectively and let Phil sleep. Light wind made our initial progress by sail somewhat slow. It was also about 30° off our port stern, so to avoid drifting into shore, Lexi held a paddle next to the center boat as a skeg. Even with all these advancements, it still took a long time to pass Richthofen Island.

After the first hour the wind picked up and shifted to our advantage. I ruddered while everyone else enjoyed great views of the Hancock Hills to the east, ate, sang, and quite commonly, slept. At one point we were cruising along and I was the only one awake. Fortunately someone came to entertain me or we might have veered off who knows where.

Midafternoon, having been sailing for six hours straight, and everyone except Phil having relieved themselves in a bailing bucket multiple times, we dropped sail and crashed onto a stony beach. I had been craving a scramble in the craggy hills all day and finally got us to pull over for a break. It felt unusually invigorating to run up tufted grassy slopes. The scrambling was great, but a bit dangerous: the rock was solid but incredibly sharp. I avoided touching it and dreaded tripping. Although we climbed only 350' from the lake, we had a satisfying vista of its nearly endless waters.

With good teamwork and a great heave-ho! we launched our craft through waves and returned to our northward sail. Just in time for dinner we turned into the Yukon River outlet and made camp at the historic settlement become campground, Lower Laberge. We inspected a couple of ramshackle structures and mused on the difference between historical artifacts and abandoned junk (these are easily confused). A thoroughly rusted out Chevy provided a suitably odd backdrop to our camp spot.

-Dave

July 13
Today was our first full day on the river. We covered the section called the "Thirty Mile". At the start of the day we went through a few little rapids (maybe riffle would have been a more appropriate term). These were not marked on our map and so were a pleasant surprise. I was in the stern and enjoyed the challenge, albeit a relatively tame one. I had a few minor zigzags in my steering, but quickly go the hand of it again. The river flows with such high volume that there are occasional boils that appear out of nowhere. These little eddies can cause the boat to suddenly veer erratically.

A highlight of the day was our visit to the remains of the S.S. Evelyn (a steamship that was abandoned high and dry on skids on a small island). Paul, Dave and I explored around the ship despite the warnings to stay off. IT was very similar to the Klondike which we had toured in Whitehorse. The lower deck was amazingly intact complete with the boiler. The upper deck seemed substantially less stable. We tip toed up the stairs to the bridge and peered inside. We noticed as we moved around that the structure was swaying a little so we decided a retreat was in order.

After paddling about 100km-its amazing how fast we can go with the current!-we decided to call it a day at Big Salmon Village, where we explored some of the dilapidated gold rush era buildings. We shared the site with yet more Germans and a couple of curious ground squirrels.

-Lexi

July 14
We had a slow start this morning, but around 8 Dave and I pushed off. The others were still breaking camp, so we floated without paddling for nearly an hour and a half before their caught up. Floating quietly along letting the boat take us where it would was incredibly peaceful.

Our first stop was at an old gold dredge fabricated from a caterpillar motor, a car engine, and lots of salvaged parts. When it was first erected, its owners retrieved 72 ounces of gold in 20 days. This seems like a good return, but it was apparently not enough, and the dredge was abandoned. The dredge was little more than a pile of parts in a heap along the bank. Behind was a beautiful meadow of fireweed.

A few kilometers down was yet another dredge, partially submerged in a quiet side channel. We inspected the still standing framework from the water.

Soon it was time for lunch. The river is moving so fast that it seemed to make more sense to raft up and float while we ate rather than getting off the water. That way we could relax and still make considerable forward progress. After lunch we all took siestas (still floating!). All that is, except Phil, who tamed his restlessness by ensuring that our unwieldy raft was always correctly oriented in the current.

Several hours and 20km later, we landed at Little Salmon Village. Unlike the historical sites we've visited so far, this was an actual inhabited village. The folks we talked to (2 First Nations men) indicated that they live there only in the summer while they are fishing; in the winter they live in Carmacks.

After a lazy afternoon, we decided that some actual paddling was in order. Its amazing how fast we can go when we paddle in the strongest part of the current. It feels almost like a free ride.

Towards evening, we had our sights set on a camp spot mentioned in the book. When we got there however, there was nothing to be found on that side of the river, though we could see a lovely spot on the opposite bank. Unfortunately 100 yards of swiftly flowing water separated us from it. We weren't sure if we could make it without being swept downstream. We decided to go for it. Hugging the bank, we made our way as far upstream as we could. Then we set our bows into the current and ferried across. Ferrying is the strangest sensation. For the longest time, you feel like you're working your tail off on the treadmill of the river getting nowhere. Then gradually you realize that you're slowly working your way across. Just as we made it to the far side, out of breath, but pleased with our efforts, we heard the resounding slap of a beaver disappearing beneath the water.

The spot was well worth the effort. The forest here is open aspen woodland. The light through the trees is dappled and green. The forest floor is flat and covered in duff. Many of us took advantage of our early stop to take a "swim" in the river. Of course given the current I actually swam for about a nano-second before planting my feet firmly on the bottom so I wouldn't be washed away. The only downside of this spot is the numerous mosquitoes. Halfway through dinner, a breeze came up and made this situation much more tolerable.

-Lexi

July 15
For many days in a row it has been sunny.

July 16
Despite the small size of our island, we had a pleasant evening and suffered only a bit of dew. We battened down our gear with unusual promptness and floated around the corner to the infamous Five Finger Rapids, so named because the river channel is divided by large pillars of rock. We put ashore upstream of the rapids and walked over to an observation platform for a good preview. The rapid is an avoidable Class 2 standing waves. It is much more amusing to imagine one of the old steam powered sternwheelers winching itself up the rapid on a regular basis. Lexi and I went through first, bounced harmlessly through a couple of waves, and eddied out by a curious natural stone arch. From that position we spectated the others. Kathy and Lynda had been nervous about the rapid for the previous day, had a fun time, and were glad when it was over. A few short kilometers later we ran Rink Rapids, really just a simple band of standing waves. The others headed to the extreme right to avoid even the small ripples. Lexi and I headed a bit more towards the center where we bumped through a couple of small waves.

As we paddle downstream, every little tributary grows the Yukon. The river is now hundreds of yards wide, although an increasing number of ephemeral gravel bars and islands of every size make it difficult to measure. The river continues to drop 1.7 meters every kilometer, and so moves very quickly, up to 7-8 kph. Paddling has come to seem like a way to keep the best position in the channel, and not a way to make forward progress. Instead of paddling hard, you can push off a bit earlier and just float. For a couple of hours at lunchtime we floated, eating, happing, drinking beer, and reciting Robert Service poems.

In the late afternoon we passed by the joining Pelly River and cut across to Fort Selkirk. We hadn't been quite sure what to expect there, and found a very nice campground with a cooking but, water, free firewood, and to our wine drinkers' delight, sanctioned drinking. There were also 34 maintained or restored historical structures of the settlement of Fort Selkirk. Being at the confluence of the Pelly and Yukon, the area has been settled for over 10,000 years. First Nations peoples, gold rush privateers, and rustic homesteaders lived in a thriving community until the Alaska Highway was completed in the 40s, when river travel became obsolete, and the community was abandoned virtually overnight. All of the buildings, OSHA compliant or extremely otherwise, were open to wander through. It was eerily fascinating to walk through a ghost town, settled only 70 years ago, and yet at a standard of living we would normally associate with the early 19th century.

With a deft note posted in the cooking shelter, Paul tricked Phil and I to run over to one of the staff tents to look for free marshmallows. We were so motivated by this tricksy notion that we actually poked our noses into what only at the last minute did we recognize as a bedpan (unused). Painful guffawing carried on for some time.

-Dave

July 17
I woke early this morning to the sound of rain pattering on the tent and was glad that we had not agreed to leave early, and I could justify rolling over and going back to sleep. A few hours later I was awake for real. Dave and I luxuriated in the shelter as we ate our breakfast. Oh, maybe luxuriated is too strong a word, but a solid roof in the rain in the woods is awfully nice.

The rain abated, and we continued our exploration of the village at Fort Selkirk. Its strange to be in a place that seems like its as it was when it was abandoned, yet clearly some effort has been put into keeping the buildings from falling down entirely. Attics and basements were freely accessible through trap doors and ladders of questionable stability. The place was only abandoned in the 40s, but it seemed much older. The way of life here on the frontier hinted at by the remains seemed more akin to the early 1800s.

We proceeded from the white settlement to the cabins owned by the Selkirk first nations people. These were universally much smaller and simpler. Some were so small it was hard to imagine a person living there.

All the literature about this place was at pains to state or imply that the Selkirks and the white settlers were on very good terms and that their cultures mingled within the village. I wonder whether that is really true or if that's just nice sounding propaganda. We met a knowledgeable local boat driver who thought that's just what it is. History is such a funny thing. I'm not sure there is fact. It all depends on who's telling the story.

Our last stop at Fort Selkirk was the First Nation Cemetery. All of the graves were either enclosed by elaborate wooden fences or covered by a small hut (spirit house). Few were marked with names or dates. Instead, each one was painted a series of bright colors, and some were decorated with totems or other symbols. Presumably the colors and totems were enough to identify the deceased to the people who have lived here. Much of the paint has been recently restored in part by matching paint ships. We learned later that archaeologists have been unable to identify the source of all of the pigments. The bright colors made this place seem a bit like Legoland but he setting in the woods gave it an aura of sacredness.

After our sight seeing we procrastinated some more by eating lunch in the shelter and hoping the skies would clear. Finally around 1 PM we set off again. We had heard (again from the knowledgeable tour boat operator) that the salmon had reached Dawson and were coming upriver so we thought it prudent to be a little more cautious of bears, and ate dinner at a separate site from where we intended to camp. We arrived at our chosen campsite, but found a sign warning of an active bear in the area, and so moved on. We ended our day at Selwyn Station after paddling 50km. Nothing remained of the small settlement but a sign.

-Lexi

July 18
When the alarm went off there was no one stirring, not even a peep. Steady rain seemed to temper even Phil's morning enthusiasm. Paul packed up quickly and motivated everyone else to follow suit. The day started off pretty grim: solidly cloudy skies, the look of long term rain, and a firm headwind that made paddling almost pointless. Dressed warmly, working hard, and hiding in the lee of as many islands as possible, we made slow progress. Normally we choose the largest river branch for its quick current, but today we often chose the smallest for its relative calm.

Around lunchtime we paused on a large gravel island to pee. Individually we walked between 3 and 200 feet of shrubless flat to find our special places. We were then so chilled that we got back in the canoes and raced to the next island to warm up, and then rafted up for a floating lunch.

After a bit more paddling we pulled into Kirkman Crossing, where we had been told to expect a bakery. As you would rightly expect for a place 100 river miles from the nearest road, "bakery" was a bit misleading. Among a cluster of half fallen down (but modern) buildings was an extremely ramshackle camp that probably couldn't keep out the summer elements, never mind the winter ones. This was the Pink Motel of the Yukon. We petted several of the ancient dogs and bought fireweed jam, homemade cookies, coffee, and under threatening skies enjoyed our snacks in the gazebo (complete with alternator, motor, and file).

We paddled into the evening with very little wind, and having traveled nearly 90 km, settled on a spacious sand and gravel island. We were happy to dry out our soggy tent. Wit the aid of a white gas enhanced campfire and a bottle of Canadian whiskey, we swapped raunchy personal and travel stories into the very late daytime.

-Dave

July 19
We were awoken at 1:30 AM by howling wind accompanied by horizontal rain coming through the netting of our tent. We were camped on an exposed gravel bar and every gust hit out tent door full blast. Dave held up the top to keep it from collapsing and I clung to the front corner hoping that the pieces of wood that we had pounded into the sand as stakes would hold. We knew from past experience that if one stake popped it would likely lead to catastrophic failure. There was little we could do by hope and listen to the slapping of nylon and the rumbling of thunder. After about half an hour the wind died quite abruptly, and we found ourselves quite intact, if somewhat wet. Eventually we fell back asleep, lying carefully so as to avoid the puddles in the corners.

In the morning, we discovered that the wind had turned our canoe 90°, but left the empty soda container next to the boat mysteriously unmolested. We paddled off in the relative calm under overcast skies and occasional light rain.

The White River is well named. Where it meets the Yukon, its opaque white flow bubbles up mysterious balloons of froth in the relatively clear (it has 875g of silt per liter, try drinking that!) Yukon. We were tempted to explore the enormous eddies that form at the junction, and suddenly found them extremely powerful and unsettling. We were quite unsure which way to paddle to get out, but were eventually ejected into the main channel.

The wind picked up again, and we stuck to side channels as much as possible to stay in the lee of the various islands. At one point we approached Phil and Kathy's canoe. "I think that's a bear over there", Kathy said. Dave, skeptical from numerous previous false alarms, dug out the binoculars and said, "Holy shit, she's right!" The black bear was ferrying across the current without losing any ground and without visible effort. Only the top of its head and ears stuck up above the water. The bear reached the bank and the rest of it emerged from the water. Without a pause to shake off water, the bear sauntered off, paying no attention to us. Its certainly the closest I've ever been to a wild bear!

A short while later we took shelter from the wind in a pleasantly narrow channel and rather quicker than we might have liked came upon a healthy bull moose. He tromped down the shore, across the channel, and away into the brush. The firm headwind was persistently annoying, so we stayed near the shore for a while before finding a nice rocky beach on which to cook dinner. Wishing to avoid further encounters with either bears or unruly wind, after dinner we moved on to a reasonably protected camp spot.

-Lexi