This solo, wilderness kayaking journey began many years ago, years
before I even knew anything about kayaks and paddling down remote,
legendary rivers. Poring over maps of those pleases revealed very
little. The blank spaces spread far and wide. At last, after
decades of dreaming, I stood on the shore of Lake Atlin in British
Columbia where the headwaters of the Yukon River are. I stood there
and thought about all those hope filled years and thrilled at the
anticipation of leaving that morning in mid-June.
Crossing the expanse of Lake Atlin in a fine mist, I guided the
kayak toward Graham Channel, which would take me to Tagish Lake.
There I met Jim and Marion Brook at their cabin. After hot coffee
and freshly baked cookies, they sent me on my way. They were the
first of many people who helped me on my journey.
That evening, having found the "perfect" campsite, I inspected the
area for bear tracks. Finding none I started a large campfire
before setting up the tent. Supper had been eaten at a previous
stop, so there was no cooking where I stayed for the night. This
was the procedure I followed every night. It kept animals bigger
and hungrier than me from visiting my campsites.
As I paddle down the lakes, I stopped at villages such as Tagish;
I paddled down Marsh Lake, down dangerous Lake Laberge; stopped in
historic towns such as Whitehorse and Dawson City. I passed by
wrecked and beached steamboats form the gold rush days and finally
crossed the US/Canadian line into Alaska. I had paddled through a
forest fire so immense that it took a day to pass the flames. The
current carried me past Eagle, Circle City, though the Yukon flats
(where he river was 10-20 miles wide) andcrossed the Artic Circle
at Fort Yukon. Then came the small villages of Beaver, Stevens
Village, and then the oil pipeline.
I paddled on to Rampart where the fierce head wind nearly drove me
back upstream. Next I passed through Tanana, where I met Emmet
Peter who has won the Iditarod long ago; then on to Ruby, Galena,
Nulato and Holy Cross where Bergie Demientieff served me coffee and
gave good advice.
Finally I arrived at Russian Mission where I ran out of time after
51 days and 2, 000 miles of paddling my kayak. There Harvey Pitka
and his wife Ester fed me a wonderful dinner before I flew out. As
the plane climbed and banked toward Bethel, I knew that I would
return one day to finish my Kayak trip to the Bering Sea.
General
Is the information for this product incomplete, wrong or inappropriate?
Let us know about it.
Does this product have an incorrect or missing image?
Send us a new image.
Is this product missing categories?
Add more categories.
Review This Product
No reviews yet - be the first to create one!
Welcome to Loot.co.za!
Sign in / Register |Wishlists & Gift Vouchers |Help | Advanced search
