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How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Yukon1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | Itinerary | Home
The air is crisp as we push out into the river in our kayaks, catching the same swift, northward current that carried the prospectors to their fortunes in Dawson and beyond. With water levels at record highs, Kalin warns that the river “is doing some weird things.” Evergreens peak through the water’s surface like icebergs. At Meagan’s parents’ house, which is on the river, the babbling creek babbles no more. While most of the world struggles to find enough freshwater, Whitehorse is overwhelmed by it. In Miles Canyon, unpredictable eddies and sieves have made the water unusually menacing. Kalin advises us to stay calm and “paddle like hell.” Before I can reconsider, I am tearing toward the rapids, my jaw clenched and my shoulders rotating in overdrive. Once in the canyon, the kayak bounces wildly and my oar is barely skimming the water. Still, I paddle like hell, if only to distract myself from the prospect of meeting the grim fate of so many Klondikers. But the Klondikers didn’t have Kalin rooting them on, and he is cheering wildly as I emerge from the canyon. He is, as he would say, “stoked.” His eyes are bright and wide, and his hands are raised to the sky in the rock ’n’ roll sign. “Wooh! Freakin’ awesome!” Later, on our drive home, we see the sun setting over faraway mountains. Kalin is driving ahead of us when he stops his car, gets out and points at the sinking ball of fire in disbelief. “Freakin’ awesome!” It’s no longer pitch black, but the sun is still hours away. Corey and I force ourselves out of bed. Though the high will be 12°C this afternoon, it’s below zero now and I am wearing a light spring coat. With fishing rods over our shoulders, we approach the water in silence. The mist is thick, like clouds over a mountaintop, and we push our canoe out onto the waters of Marsh Lake. Though I’ve never caught a fish in my life, Corey is seasoned: He spends three months a year working as a king-crab fisherman, braving Alaskan winters at sea. We review basic technique, and soon, I am casting my reel with ease, the orange metallic bait breaking the calm of the water. |
