Jake & Susan's Yukon River Trip: Yukon

Sunday, August 21, 2011

10 Things I Hate to Admit about My Yukon River Trip

Here's a collection of thoughts, actions, or whatnots that I would have been embarrassed to admit before I went on our Yukon River Trip. But somehow, these tidbits seem like an important part of my adventure that I should share.

1. As I was standing in an empty partaking lot in Whitehorse directly after our time on the Yukon River, I felt nature calling. Before I realized what I was doing, I had already scoped out a bear-free bush to relieve myself…. Sorry I can't make this story any better; I only said I scoped it out; I didn't act upon my newly acquired natural instinct. Instead, I excused myself and walked into the nearby McDonalds.

2. The Canadian & US Border Officers we encountered were all younger than us.

3. While on our Yukon River Trip, I will admit that my survival instincts did surprise me. More than once I caught myself selfishly eying the remaining filtered water or coveting a larger scoop out of the dinner pan.

4. We listened to Meat Loaf's Bat out of Hell album and sang at the top of our lungs…a few times. (Hey, you try spending 14 days of your summer hauling an overloaded trailer while covering almost 7,000 miles; you'd be surprised what you resort to in order to stay awake and to divert insanity's scheme against you.

5.   Almost 2 weeks after returning home from our summer adventure, I was still sleeping in my clothes. The Yukon nights got down to the low 40s (℉), and I was already wearing my warmest clothes when it was time to burrow into my sleeping bag. Furthermore, changing required more exertion than just crawling into my cocoon of promised warmth; changing for bed just didn't seem important or necessary at the time. I also slept along side bug carcasses--big ones, little ones…it just was not a priority to dispose of them before laying my weary head to rest for the night. The Yukon had a way of altering my priorities without ever really bringing them to my attention.

6. I cried like a baby on the river…more than once.

7. I went 20 days without a full head-to-toe shower or bath. Because the water temperature on the Yukon River was around 40 ℉, fully submersing myself in the chilly waters was not practical. I got my nerve up twice to fully dunk my head for a good shampoo. The water was cold and stabbed dull butter knives into any piece of flesh daring enough to linger longer than a brief moment or two.

8. I ate fallen food off the dirty cabin floor and deck of our boat--every precious calorie mattered!

9.   After our first week back home, I realized that I had only taken two showers: one the morning we arrived home and one a few days later.   During that first week back on my way to the grocery store, one glance in the rearview mirror revealed that I had not put an ounce of makeup on nor had I made any attempt to tame the messy bun that was atop my head. I had also neglected to put on deodorant (so unlike me!).

10. During our Lake Laberge horror, I begged and screamed prayers up to God and thought He wasn't listening.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Jake & Susan Are Back on Dry Land!: Day 19 of the Yukon River Trip

     Jake & I are happy to announce that we have finished our Yukon River Trip adventure! We pulled into Carmacks on the evening of our 12th anniversary, covering 202 miles of the mighty Yukon River. Early on in our quest, we decided to forego our original destination of Dawson City for a number of reasons. Though we definitely could have made the 460 miles to Dawson City, it became quite clear that we were losing sight of some of our original trip goals.
   Our venture quickly took on the feel of all work and no play. Yes, we knew we had our work cut out for us, but even before we left town, we began to feel as though the planning of this trip was a second job. Then when it was finally time to depart, the six-day drive wore us down even more (we only stopped at three motels--the rest of the nights we drove on through to cover the 3,300 miles to Whitehorse. The weight and aerodynamics of the trailer and boat slowed us down much more than we anticipated.
   Once arriving in Whitehorse (finally!), we took two nights at the Yukon Inn to recover...or so we thought we would. We quickly found ourselves running here and there--getting fishing licenses, last-minute gear, checking the river and launching sites, reorganizing our gear from the drive, making arrangements for storing our truck and trailer (thank you Sports North!), etc. When we finally hit the river on the afternoon of July 3rd, we were still exhausted from the months of planning, the 3,300 miles of driving, and the preparations once reaching Whitehorse.
   As we got a handle on how the Sundowner maneuvered on the Yukon River, a river so different from any back home, we soon discovered that the wind was going to be our biggest challenge. Lake Laberge, the 30-mile lake we had to cross early in our route, surprised us by how calm she appeared to be as we entered her waters. At first, the glass-like surface and windless skies deceived us, as we later found ourselves battling the horrific winds and waves that Laberge is known to produce without notice. The structure of the Sundowner took quite a beating from Lake Laberge (and so did we).
     After sneaking out of Laberge late in the evening and rowing through the night because her winds seemed to be the calmest then (thankgoodness for the almost 20-hours of sunlight), we found ourselves taking on the wind during the next stretch of Yukon River, known as the Thirty Mile River. It was apparent that we would most likely continue to battle the wind--not the river--the whole way. Jake & I found that we had not had any time to explore, play, recover, or even feed ourselves properly, and I wasn't journaling--simply recording the miles of the day and basic events. We were just too worn down. We felt we were putting in overtime covering miles, ignoring what the real purpose of our trip was.
     So, we decided to take a couple of days off to rest up, reorganize the cabin, and play. Panning for gold and fishing were the highlights of this break; they were the first "just for fun" moments of the trip. This made us revisit our goals and begin thinking about changing our final destination. You see, Dawson City was not our goal; working together to live on our boat as we explored the awesome Yukon River and followed in the paddle strokes of so many before us. We weren't exploring; we were simply covering miles and wearing ourselves out as we battled the wind with our boat, watching the canoes and kayaks zip by us.
     We did the math daily; we could still make it to Dawson City, but with the frequent and unpredictable winds the Yukon blows, we knew we needed to readjust the final destination in order to meet our goals. We worked hard, played a bit, and learned much during our fifteen days as we covered 202 miles of the Yukon River from Whitehorse to Carmacks.

(As we travel home we will be posting journal portions, pictures,

and memories of our trip. So, check back soon!)

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Departing from Carmacks & the Yukon River: Day 18 of the Yukon River Trip

...continued from "Jake's Return to Carmacks: Day 18 of the Yukon River Trip"

In spite of the last 24 sleepless hours of bootless fishing, incessant gold panning, ill-intentioned visitors, relentless packing, and drawn out shuttle rides, we somehow managed to load up the Expedition for our impending departure. Without reprieve, our next challenge awaited us: getting the Sundowner on the trailer (and eventually out of the Yukon River!). We knew battling the strong, swift Yukon current was unavoidable.

This picture is from the Sundowner's deck. Our plan was to back the stern away from the bank & use NRS straps to pull the boat upstream a short distance to load the Sundowner onto the trailer before having the Expedition pull both trailer & boat up the ramp & out of the Yukon River.

Experience taught us to prepare for the worst-possible scenario: losing the Sundowner to the current. No boat ramps existed downriver, not even for the boat alone. Overpowered by the current, the Sundowner would surely wreck, creating an expensive & nearly impossible retrieval. Taking precautions, we tied one end of a blue NRS strap to our boat & anchored the other end to the trees until we combined the other NRS straps into two longer straps, securing both from our boat to the trailer. These would serve as guide ropes, aligning the boat & trailer while also pulling the Sundowner close enough to attach the manual winch strap, which when cranked secures her into position. We also hitched our battery powered winch on the bow of the Sundowner in anticipation of needing more than just muscle to load our boat. And once again, we had an audience; a local couple materialized & watched us from their parked car on the circle drive (which, of course, added to the already escalating stress & pressure we were under).

Anchored by NRS Straps in Carmacks, YT

Backing the trailer down the boat ramp & into the water triggered yet another onslaught from the Yukon's unrelenting campaign to deny us any predictability. As Jake inched the trailer farther out toward the necessary depth to receive the Sundowner, the river's powerful waters waged full force against the trailer. The Yukon River strove for victory as its surging current grabbed onto the tail of our 2000 lb. trailer, threatening to carry it downstream. The unforgiving water pledged one of three outcomes: to mangle the trailer beyond use, to break the trailer from the Expedition, or to claim both the trailer & the Expedition as casualties in its assault. My frantic screams & gestures sent the Expedition & the trailer lurching forward as Jake drove back up the ramp and broke the water's promise of demise. And still, the couple brazenly watched our struggles unfold from the circle drive (a little help would have been nice!).


Onlookers usually parked on the left side of the circle drive near the Carmacks boat launch.

Plan B transpired and then soaked in my anxiety & worst-case scenarios as Jake backed the trailer & the Expedition off the soft, squishy river bank & into a shallow pool just upstream of and next to the ramp. From there, we followed our original idea of using NRS straps to secure & guide the Sundowner onto the trailer. The forceful, icy current taunted me, and doubt stole my courage as I balanced on submerged bars of the slippery trailer & fought rushing water up past my knees. I gave up trying to guide our boat toward the trailer with the NRS straps; Jake took over & grappled with the reigns to align the boat before we both wrestled the Sundowner into her secure position (and not without help from both the manual & battery powered winches). The river just didn't want to let her go.

Climbing back into the Expedition, Jake stomped on the gas daring the mighty Yukon River to give the Sundowner up to its soft, mushy bank. I yelled for Jake to stop after watching slushy sand & pebbles hinder the departure. Tension rose as I shared my hesitation with Jake, and incredibly, two sets of eyes still stared out at us from behind the windshield of the parked car on the circle drive. Jake ignored my disbelief & the gawking locals and floored the pedal again, this time spurring movement (& hope!). The Expedition roared as it slowly inched forward. My heart pounded as the back tires grabbed for pavement. Holding my breath, I watched the trailer's first set of tires slide through the soggy sand. Jake didn't let up, and the engine dominated with a slow, steady pace as the stern of the Sundowner left the water and the trailer's last set of wheels finally mounted the paved road! I imagine the inquisitive locals parked on the circle drive expected their curious, doubting stupor to last longer. Now what would they do? I stood in my own lingering fog of skepticism & marveled at our first stroke of luck since our departure from Whitehorse nearly 3 weeks ago on Day 1 of our Yukon River Trip.

Jake put the truck in park & joined me on the bank of the Yukon River to celebrate our latest feat before saying goodbye to our beloved spot in Carmacks. Exhausted, we stood together trying to absorb the sobering reality & surreal finality of our exit off the Yukon River.

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Alone & Anxiously Awaiting Jake's Return to Carmacks: Day 18 of the Yukon River Trip

...continued from "A Worst-Case Scenario in Carmacks: Day 18 of the Yukon River Trip"

Once my talkative, curious visitor and her two mysterious men in the magically appearing truck vanished--CUT! Yeah, that's not really how I saw the whole situation. "Talkative" and "Curious" and "Mysterious" are quite honestly lip service at best. The Truth: These three were up to no good--period.

So, let me start again: Once the ill-intentioned, pushy girl and her two creepy accomplices in the eerily stealthy truck slithered away after their failed mission (much better), I welcomed relief, regained focus, and once again engaged myself in the monstrous goal of organizing the Sundowner and all her contents, which had sustained us for nearly three weeks on our 202-mile Yukon River Trip.

Clothes & toiletries, uneaten food & kitchen essentials, fishing poles & tackle, knives & tools, sleeping pads & bags, towels & tarps, maps & cameras, dry suits & waders, rain gear & extra boots, books & writing necessities, and survival gear along with a wench all had to be prepped to be logically packed into our vehicle upon Jake's return to Carmacks.

I wanted all the boxes, trunks, bags, crates, & many, many piles of gear to be prudently laid out, ready to load up before Jake's return for two reasons: 1.) I yearned for a near-perfect organization system because we would be spending the next 7-8 days riding in & living out of our Expedition, and 2.) I wanted Jake to return to a job well done and appreciate (& maybe even be happy) that I stayed behind in Carmacks while he retrieved our truck & the Sundowner's trailer from Whitehorse.

Each glance at the clock showed advancing numbers that represented the growing time that separated Jake & I for the first time since our June 25 departure date over three weeks ago. For 24 days Jake was virtually an arm's reach away from me; rarely was he out of my sight, except the handful of times one of us would wander a couple of streets away for a food run in one of the few towns where we grabbed a bed to alleviate the laborious task of hauling the Sundowner 3300 miles from Indiana to the Yukon River.

Enough time had not passed to merit serious worry, but the sudden separation left me feeling strangely incomplete, allowing anxiety to fill the newly vacant space Jake's absence created. The once seemingly impossible chore of prepping all of our gear for the arrival of Jake & the Expedition proved to be a blessing with the distraction it offered.

Once Jake's earliest possible estimated arrival time had passed, my mind would frequently steal away & wonder--or worry, rather--how Jake's chore was playing out: I wonder if he has made it back to Whitehorse yet.... Will our 12-year-old truck start after sitting so long? What if the Expedition has been stolen? Or it breaks down--or worse--wrecks on the lonesome & treacherous road between Whitehorse & Carmacks? What will I do if he's not back before the town sleeps and foragers lurk & scheme in the nearby shadowy foliage? Just about the time Worst-Case-Scenario-Girl was ready to permanently stake herself a tent in the land of anxiety, Sanity would intervene and chase the worry back into my subconscious where it festered before surfacing again.

The Gravel Road I Routinely Scanned in Anticipation of Jake's Return

As the afternoon matured, I debated on transferring the contents of the Sundowner onto the bank in hopes of shortening our load time once Jake returned. I knew this was a gamble; if the culprits with the duplicitous dealings from earlier returned, I may not manage as well in a second strike. On the other hand, if I cut our work in half, Jake & I could make an earlier departure for our 112-mile drive to Whitehorse. (Google Maps estimated the travel time as 2 hours and 17 minutes; however, during our 6-and-a-half-day drive to the Yukon, nearly doubling those estimates better matched the pace our Expedition chose while hauling the Sundowner.)

Time or safety: that was the question. I resolved to chance it & unload the aggregation of paraphernalia from the Sundowner onto the bank of the Yukon River. Any time that I could cut to accelerate our departure meant that much less time between me and a shower & clean bed. So, I sorted & shuffled our gear into a mock-up of our packed Expedition, following the blueprint my mind drew during earlier hours of my scrupulous packing.

The New Holding Plot for Our Gear

At last, while grabbing another load from the bow of the Sundowner, I turned & beheld our trusty Expedition with trailer in tow heading my way. Pure joy saturated me when I caught my first glimpse of Jake's handsome face through the windshield camouflaged by the reflection of the surrounding trees.