The Yukon Descent
Tuesday 6TH July.
We had a
good drop of rain during the night but it hadn’t stopped the wind from blowing hard. After breakfast I walked to the toilet block to have a wash and to collect some water. There were showers but they required tokens to use them and with the store closed I had to make do with a cold-water wash to the top half of my body. The water was so cold that my head throbbed when I washed my hair, but at least I felt clean again.
When we pushed off the wind was coming from all directions but within 4kms we were heading directly into it. With the current opposing the wind, it became one hell of a choppy river. The boat was tossing and turning in all directions; the bow of the canoe would spear into one wave only to drop down and collide with another. The impact sprayed and splashed the water everywhere including Ed’s lap. He was getting wet, really wet. We pounded through the waves
being thrown around as if we were riding a bull. It was an amazing experience and tough going, but when the river turned in a different direction the water calmed like a millpond; and we were thankfully to be given a short reprieve.
It was a beautiful clear day and we now had the privilege of seeing two mountain ranges, one from the North and one from the South. The southern range
reminded me of the Porongurup small mountain range in Western Australia, when viewed from the town of Albany. The river meandered north and then south so often, like a huge curly snake, that we had the pleasure of seeing the picturesque ranges over and over again. We had fantastic views and I loved it.
It had been a hard day, the current was slow, the wind was strong and in general the
conditions were very testing, but it was the sight of the hills that gave me the inspiration to turn the day into a number of beautiful memories. By the 70km mark Ed was ready to stop. We were halfway to Steven’s Village so we found a camp spot on an island opposite the abandoned King Slough Village. We were now only 100 metres above sea level.
The island was bare and exposed to the
wind, which kept the mozzies away and gave us a good view of the surrounding area. Although we were happy with our camp spot we could see smoke creeping in from the southwest and cutting visibility. It was a disheartening sight. I wrote until 11.30pm.
Wednesday 7th July.
We were up by 6.30am. We wanted to get into Steven’s Village 70kms away before the store closed. It was cold but we braved it. By the looks of the smoke haze ahead it wasn’t going to be a good day; however it wasn’t too thick and cleared as the day went by. The day livened up when we hit the wind coming from the West to South West. It was fun having the canoe lunge up and down but Ed wasn’t laughing – he was getting wet. I offered to change ends but he didn’t want to.
It was probably the coldest day that we have had since leaving Lake Bennett and Ed was now soaking and shivering.
As we continued our paddle around Long Point it seemed never ending. We rejoiced when the river turned left around Windy Bend. The current was still poor but the closer we got to Steven’s Village the happier we were. We were counting every bend. We spotted a house with a
load of tools, timber and general boat rubbish on shore so I decided to ask how far the village was.
I walked up the rickety steps to the top of the riverbank and across to the house. A dog started barking; nevertheless I kept walking, looking at the rubbish that surrounded the building. I reached the door, feeling somewhat hesitant. Inside were three or four guys, one holding onto a
dog that was growling viciously. It looked a hillbilly shack with hillbilly men inside. I didn’t feel at all comfortable. I asked them how far it was to town and after they told me, I didn’t allow them to say anything else, I thanked them and high tailed it back across the garden, down the steps and returned to the canoe. I was happy to be paddling away. Unfair of me I know – I just couldn’t help thinking of the film ‘Deliverance’!
The village was a mile down a channel that we were approaching. We soon reached the first ramp where the Washeteria was close by, had a shower and collected water. With fresh clean bodies we returned to the canoe where the shore was stony and littered with rubbish. Although it was time to camp this wasn’t the place, so we paddled to the other side of the channel to an island and camped on a beach there.
