Canoeing the Yukon River: Part 3

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 18/10/2023 (770 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

This is the third in a three-part series about an auntie and niece canoeing on the Yukon River, from Whitehorse to Dawson City. Find the first two parts here — wfp.to/6MW — and here: wfp.to/6Mk

As the morning mist lifted, we were greeted by another warm and sunny day. To pass the time, we sang songs, shared stories, and floated every once in a while for refuelling snacks. We had discovered the previous day that apple cores floated, and so we amused ourselves with apple core races. We also tried carrot tops but, much to our surprise, they did not float. Neither did broken crackers, nor bits of beef jerky.

We got our first glimpse of wildlife on this day, and over the course of our journey the sightings grew… six bears, five moose, mountain sheep, otters, beavers, and a fast-moving critter on the opposite shore that resembled a wolverine. Brit was great at spotting animals and wildlife, at one point she even saw bright pink salmon jumping out of the river, and an eagle swooping down to snatch a fish right out of the water.

After 10 long hours of paddling in 35-degree heat, and a lacklustre apple core race, we reached the campsite earmarked for that night. It, too, was high on a bluff overlooking the river, and treating us to another glorious sunset. Within range of cellular towers, we were able to check in with family and friends. While it was wonderful to reconnect, it was also bittersweet to break out of our little bubble.

The next morning, we awoke knowing it was the day we’d be reaching Five Finger Rapids – the only official set of rapids on the Yukon River. While the name itself was intimidating, all resources indicated they should be easy to pass as long as you keep right.

There was an air of apprehension as we left the village of Carmacks behind. In all previous outdoor adventures, I had never paddled through rapids in the stern seat. My MO had always been to rely on more experienced canoeists. This time, it was on me.

We took time on the way to practise rapid-manoeuvre strokes — kneeling for stability and paddling hard. The river got more swirly as we approached the point where it bends and the Five Finger Rapids appear, spanning the width of the water. What a sight! We could clearly see all five channels, each separated from the other by massive stone walls. It was rugged, beautiful, and also incredibly intimidating.

Creeping closer, as slowly as the current allowed us to go, we hugged the right shore. We could see the passable channel ahead of us, as we dropped onto our knees, preparing for the uncertain battle. In what felt like slow-motion, we entered the flow, our speed instantly increasing. No less than 10 seconds later, we were through — and so relieved! Wanting to celebrate, we realized that the stretch ahead for as far as we could see was still choppy and swirly. There’d be no letting our guard down today. Or any day, for that matter.

The Yukon River commanded our attention right to the very end of our trip. On the second last day, after passing the mouth of the White River, the water became faster, shallower, and even choppier than it had been. It was also silty and undrinkable, requiring us to boil it and let it settle in the pot, before gently scooping it out.

That night, camped on a sandy shoal with exactly zero trees, we examined ourmaps. From there, it was only 107 kilometres to reach Dawson City. Knowing that distance was doable, and considering the weather had taken a turn, we vowed to get there the next day.

On what would be our final night on the river, a lightning storm surrounded our little tent perched in the middle of the exposed sandbar. It circled relentlessly as we lay on our backs, eyes wide open in the blackness, counting the seconds between flashes and thunder as we tried to anticipate how close the storm was. After about three hours, it slowly subsided, and we were able to drift off to sleep.

The next morning, we awoke to fog so thick we couldn’t see anything beyond our sandbar. We waited it out before proceeding cautiously on the now wider, faster, and even more shallow Yukon River. It took constant zigging and zagging from one side to the other, to safely navigate the many channels, to avoid the dangers, and to skirt around sections of churning ‘lava’ water.

Around 6 p.m. our destination came into view – Dawson City. For the first time in 10 days, I felt like I could truly and fully exhale, knowing we would make it safely.

Not having done a lengthy canoe trip in over a decade, I wasn’t even sure I’d still be able to take on the physical demands of navigating a fast and powerful river. But somehow we managed to get ’er done, paddling 706 kilometres in 10 days, finishing four days ahead of our anticipated schedule.

It was an amazing adventure to say the least, and one for which I’m extremely grateful.