Summer: not quite over, whether it realises it or not.

It was a busy summer, workwise. On top of that, according to Fawn's calculations, we've had guests for about two out of every three days this summer. And it hasn't felt like much of a summer.

Maybe it's because of the wet, cool weather we were afflicted with. Maybe it's because I hardly had time for any canoeing and didn't have a single overnight hiking or canoeing trip.

Regardless of the reasons, it's snowing now and it's supposed to keep snowing tomorrow. I like the snow, but I'm not ready to pull out the old snowshoes quite yet. I going to make one last grasp at a cherished summer activity. I'm going canoeing tomorrow, and will willfully weather the weather, whether the weather likes it or not.

Into the Taku - Part 3 of 3

If you missed Parts 1 and 2, you can read them here and here.

As is the case with all good things, they must come to an end. It was time to leave Taku Country.

The ride out.

A flying beaver!

Lift-off.

In the co-pilot's seat. No, I didn't fly the plane.

The back of the mountain I scrambled up that morning.

A pond in the mountains.

Treeline transition.

White stripe.

Waterfall.

I think this is where the Nakina flows into the Taku River.

Beautiful country for canoeing.

A big, grey mountain.

A very pointy mountain.

A very lumpy mountain.

The pilot. Man! That's great canoeing country!

With defensible terrain like this, it's no wonder the Tlingit were able to control the trade with interior peoples.

An orangey mountain.

A bald mountain.

Cascades from afar.

A closer look at the cascades.

How amazing would it be to hike on this mountain?

Can you feel the love?

An alpine water supply.

Back in the lowlands.

What the heck is this formation all about?

Clay pond.

Back at Atlin Lake.

A placer mining operation.

Coming into Atlin, with Minto Mountain in the distance.

Atlin.

Downtown Atlin

If all good things must come to an end, at least the same can be said about bad things.

My Pop is out of intensive care.

My Granny, who is still in a care home, is eating better than she has in ages.

My Mum is still helping my grandparents wrap up some odds and ends, but life is a little easier now that my Pop is out of the hospital.

My friend has managed to make some progress in dealing with his unfaithful wife.

Jade is still having seizures, but they're not as bad as they were even a week ago.

I guess that sometimes we need those tough times to fully appreciate the good times. And when those good times come to an end, we'll always have our memories to help us though the next time things get a little rough.

Here's to making more good memories...

First Paddle of the Season

The other day at work, Kim, a colleague, asked me about places to learn canoeing and since I hadn't been out yet this season, I asked if she'd like to join me for a paddle at Chadburn Lake. She'd just moved up from Victora and has done a lot of sea kayaking, but not much canoeing.

We headed out on Saturday. It was one of those mornings where it looked like it might be sunny or it might pur with rain. The wind was brisk and there were thunderheads building, but it was looking more and more like the weather would lean to the nice side, so we went anyways.

In Whitehorse, if you don't like the weather, wait half-an-hour.

It was pretty nice by the time we get there, though the wind was blowing pretty steadily down the lake and the shore was crowded with canoes and kayaks for a product demonstration by a local rental and sales company.

I pulled out my GPS and entered the coordinates for a cache at the end of the lake. We never got there, because we were headed upwind and the wind was too strong. Instead, we pulled into the shore and I offered Kim the stern.

She picked things up pretty quickly and was sweeping and drawing in no time. Running with the wind, we ducked into the lee side of a point and paddled to shore.

A woman and her son were having a snack at a picnic table located up the bank. We asked if we could also occupy the spot and they gracefully obliged, stating that they were just about to leave anyways.

I had brought along my Liard Firebox, a kettle, some tea and some bannock mix. In no time, the firebox was set-up and a fire was boiling some water for tea. The woman and her son sat talking, checking out the firebox and watching the proceedings. We invited them to join us for some bannock on a stick.

It was a great way to spend a Saturday afternoon. Hot bannock slathered in jam and tea boiled over the fire is one of life's great culinary delicacies. And it's something you'd never be able to replicate in a restaurant.

After the bannock, the woman and her son left. There "just about to leave" had taken another hour or so, but we were happy they joined us.

Kim and I let the wood burn down to ash, packed up the firebox and went to see the views on the other side of the point. I plugged in a different set of coordinates for a nearby geocache I'd been to before and offered the GPS to Kim. She took the stern of the canoe and we were off to find the cache.

After a bit of a climb, we found the cache, and Kim was hooked. Geocaching is like that. I had the coordinates for one other cache past the end of the lake and we stuck out for that.

Again, running with the wind, we pulled the canoe out in a bay at the end of the lake, hopped over a hundred trees felled by beavers and picked up a trail the led towards the cache.

It was nice in the trees, out of the wind. The trail took us to to the Hidden Lakes. The cache was easy to find and had some great loot in it, but we didn't have anything to trade, so we signed the journal and left it there.

We were worried about the paddle back up the lake but, with Kim in the stern and me in the bow, we managed to power our way back to the lee side of the point in no time. The clouds were getting darker and it was obvious a storm was coming in, so we headed back to the car.

We got the canoe loaded just in time. It started raining just as we started driving back along the Chadburn Lake road.

It was a great way to spend a Saturday; my first day off in a looooong time.

Yukon Adventure Challenge Mini: August Rush

When the 24 to 36-hour Yukon Adventure Challenge was held earlier this year, I had trouble finding a teammate. For some reason, hiking, biking, and canoeing for 36 hours doesn't appeal to most people. I just don't get it.

After the race earlier in the season, when I was grousing about my inability to find a teammate, Pauline suggested we team up. Pauline is an adventure challenge veteran, so she already knew what she was getting into - and that's the best type of teammate to have.

Then, good fortune smiled our way. The race organizer decided to host a second race this summer - a scaled-down, 12-hour version called The Yukon Adventure Challenge Mini: August Rush. We were ready.

The race started dark and early at the base of Haeckel Hill. First, to begin separating the teams, there was a run.


Then, at the first Transition Area, each of the teams grabbed their trekking bags (containing the mandatory gear), and the hiking began. For Pauline and I, that meant walking at a swift trot.



As we rose above the tree line, wading through the wet buckbrush on an old trail that I knew, we knew that we were doing well. Before long, we were walking across the alpine tundra on Mount Sumanik.










Our goal was Mount Wilson and, after that, Scout Lake.

The trekking portion of the race.

We had started off strong in the coolness of the morning, but as the sun rose we began to feel the heat.

Strong.

Feeling the heat.

Pauline does an imitation of the Kokanee sasquatch. (Not all readers may get this reference. Please leave a comment if you require or desire an explanation.)

At last we had a view of the other side. Thinking myself clever, I took us further to the left of Scout Lake than we should have gone. My intent was to avoid the mass of moraines and fire-kill at the base of Mount Wilson. Gah! How I blundered! We fumbled down the slopes searching for a trail through the thick lodgepole pines and fallen fire-killed trees. When we did find the trails, they wound back and forth, never quite taking us to our destination. Eventually, we decided that the direct route would have to do and we wandered back into the fire-killed trees and thick lodgepole pine. Finally, we reached Scout Lake.


There was a checkpoint at Scout Lake that we were told was in the lake. I thought that meant it was on a muddy, white-clay peninsula that jutted out into the lake. After sinking to my knees in an unsuccessful attempt to find it on the peninsula, we continued around the lake only to discover that it really was in the lake.



I stripped down to nothing but my underwear and my ultra-cool hat (I found an old funnel on the trails - and wanting to do my part to keep our trails clean, I picked it up and used most of my duct tape to fashion it into a very stylish hat) and swam out to the checkpoint. Of course, there was a photographer from a local paper there to capture the whole thing. Yes, my cool hat made the paper.


After the long hike (and refreshing swim), we welcomed the transition to our bikes. We flew down the old roads, hoping to catch up to the three teams that were now ahead of us.

What the..? Where did this dog come from?

Well, there he goes!

Biking in the Ibex Valley.

The biking portion of the race.

Then, of course, we had our accident. There always has to be an accident, doesn't there? Fortunately, we were able to make our repair and keep moving.

Another checkpoint, another opportunity to get soaking wet.

For the most part, the riding was fast and I had few opportunities to take pictures. Another team had caught up to us after our repair and, though we tried, we couldn't quite keep up. They beat us to the next Transition Area - the portage.

Carrying the canoe down to the Takhini River.

The canoeing section of the race.

Although paddling should have been our strongest area, it took us a little while to get in the groove. Around the first bend, though, we overtook the team that had overtaken us.



The clock was ticking. The race had a cut-off time and we already knew that most of the teams weren't going to make it. Would we?

After the long hike and subsequent bike, we could feel our muscles stiffening as we sat in the canoe. After we dropped off our canoe, there was a final 3km dash to the finish line. We tried to jog it, but my knee had started to hurt. I did a hobble-trot for the finish while Pauline jogged beside me. The cut off time was looming...

"We're almost done! We're almost done!"

..but we made it, the fourth of four teams to finish the race within the time limit.

Pauline celebrated by hugging her daughter. Pauline was a fantastic teammate and I would race with her again in a heartbeat.



I celebrated by soaking my muscles in the hotsprings.



And then by tasting my shiny new medal.



I loved the 12-hour format and hope the organizer continues to host them. I think they're the perfect opportunity for people who would like to try adventure racing but aren't ready to commit to a 24 to 36-hour race.

Conclusion? The YAC Mini rules!

The entire route.