We've done a fair amount of wilderness canoeing in Ontario, but, that was a long time ago and frankly, the idea of wielding an 85 lb. canoe on our heads, along with all our gear, across forest portages just wasn't that appealing any more. That is the beauty of the Yukon River. There are NO portages, none! Even better, you don't really even have to paddle! The downstream current averages between 5-7 miles per hour and unless there are headwinds, it basically just requires steering and avoiding obstacles.
After the mad rush of provisioning and packing, it was exhilarating to push off into the current at Whitehorse. We couldn't believe how fast we were going and watched the shoreline speed by. Within twenty minutes, we spotted a pair of deer on the shore, all was looking good and we spent a comfortable first night at the entrance to Lake Laberge.
Lake Laberge was the first of just three 'obstacles' on the trip that we had misgivings about. The lake is thirty miles long, subject to headwinds and there would be little current to assist us through it. It was a hot, two-day slog of a paddle through and although very beautiful, we were glad to see the end of it. There weren't that many good places to camp, but, we managed to find a great spot both nights which afforded us long views up and down the length of the lake.
After leaving Lake Laberge, we entered into the section of the river known as the 'Thirty Mile'. This section is designated a national heritage river and part of the Klondike Gold Rush International Historical Park. It was narrow, sparkling clear, rocky and very lively with lots of riffles that caused us to ship water on occasion. We had to keep our wits about us to be sure we were in the right place at the right time. Our moving water skills were rusty and it wasn't a very relaxing ride. We were wondering if we had bitten off more than we could chew. Once we reached the end of this section and joined up with the Teslin River, it all changed. There were still many boils and eddies in the river, but, it was wider, the water stayed flat and we didn't have to be quite so vigilant. We started to enjoy the scenery, like this patch of fireweed in one of the many burn areas we encountered.
Once we'd remastered our moving water pivot turns, we found that even with the fierce current we could ferry glide over to either bank for a quick tea break.
On the shore, we encountered details like these beautiful flowers found among the stones on a muddy beach.
The second obstacle that gave us pause was Five Finger Rapids. Historically, they were a major navigation obstacle and many people and ships have come to grief there. We checked the Rapids out by road beforehand and they didn't look too bad as long as you lined up properly, took the rightmost channel (on the far left in the picture below) which only had standing waves down the middle of it, braced well and didn't stop paddling. We shipped quite a lot of water going through, but, it was all over in a minute and although very wet, we were through and relieved it was done.
A few miles further downstream we encountered our third and final obstacle, the Rink Rapids, but, these were easily bypassed as long as you kept to the extreme right of the river. From here on there wasn't much else to worry about and the days passed easily one-by-one and they all seemed to blend together. The days were mostly warm and sunny, the first few hours each day were magical when it was cool, fresh and quiet and we glided along soundlessly. We saw fewer and fewer people as we went along. After Fort Selkirk, the half-way point, which I'll write more about later, we didn't see another soul for about five days, until one evening when the whump-whump-whump of a helicopter loudly announced itself. It landed on an impossibly tiny strip of marshy shore directly opposite our camp and dropped off three men and a bunch of equipment. They were picked up a few hours later and we were alone again.
The silence was again blissful. Although travelling the river today is very much a wilderness experience it wasn't like that during the years surrounding the Gold Rush. The whole length of it must have been a hive of industry. There were telegraph lines running along the shore (all the way from Vancouver to Dawson City). Along with the lines came telegraph stations, police posts, even post offices. There were stage crossings and roadhouses at regular intervals. Every bend in the river contained huge woodpiles. Men cut and stacked cordwood all winter to fuel the paddle steamers. It must have been noisy, with machinery running and steam whistles blasting at every 'meet' point in the river. Hard to imagine today, but, just step a few metres back from the shoreline into the trees and the evidence is all still there.
Steam sternwheelers operated regularly on the River up until the 1950's. The SS Klondike, on the hard now at Whitehorse was one. Hard to believe this huge ship: 64m (210 ft.) with a beam of 12.5m (41 ft.) and a draft of 0,6m empty (24 in.) - 1m loaded (39 in.) draft negotiated this river full of ever-changing sandbars and depths. Not surprisingly, ships went aground regularly and they often had to employ winches and cables attached to shore to get them through the sticky bits.
I couldn't finish this post without mentioning the wildlife encountered, specifically moose. We saw lots, probably at least a dozen and each time it was a thrill. Often it was early morning, sometimes they were single and sometimes in pairs. We were transfixed by one that swam directly across the river, just ten metres from the bow of our canoe.
It was a wonderful trip and we enjoyed it very much!
Hi! Just wondering what were the dates of your trip? Great write up!
ReplyDeleteThanks for your kind comment. We did this canoe trip during the first two weeks of July 2016.
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