A Yukon Adventure

After another busy week at work I decided to take my kayak on an overnight camping trip, so Saturday after work I jumped in my minivan and headed to the grocery store to buy enough food to survive the weekend. The plan was to drive to Braeburn Lake, located about 1,5 hour north of Whitehorse. While the pump attendant filled up my fuel tank at the gas station I inserted the soundtrack of ‘Into the Wild’  in my car’s CD player and concluded I was ready for a relaxing weekend getaway.

Living in the Yukon makes you redefine the definition of the word ‘highway’, since many highways are basic gravel roads without any of the characteristics of what the rest of the world calls a highway, and only once in a while you`ll pass a small settlement consisting of a small number of cabins and a gas stations which often doubles as convenience store and local bakery. The same applies to Braeburn, a small settlement located at Mile 55 of the Klondike Highway. The Braeburn Lodge is famous for its cinnamon buns and sandwiches, and is definitely a place worth visiting for anyone travelling up the Klondike Highway. 

It was already shortly after nine by the time I arrived at the Braeburn Lodge, and unfortunately they just closed the kitchen for the day, so I decided to head down to the lake right away and start my trip. After taking my kayak of the roof rack, I quickly loaded it with my groceries, a camping stove,  a small tent, sleeping mat,  a spare set of clothes, and some basic camping gear. While looking at the lake I had a brief discussion with myself about whether I should take my photo camera along or not. Except for a couple of dark clouds on the other side of the lake everything looked peaceful so I decided to fill up the remaining space of my waterproof compartment with my Sony SLR and my standard zoom Carl Zeiss lens. A quick look in the back of my minivan confirmed that I loaded everything I could possibly need for this trip in my kayak so I locked up the car and headed down the lake in my fully loaded kayak.

One of my co-workers told me earlier that day that the lake contained some small unhabited islands, perfect for camping. The dark clouds that seemed to be far away not too long ago were now moving rapidly towards me, and it didn’t take long before I was paddling in the rain. Probably 5 minutes later the rain got accompanied by load thunder, which made me decided to head to the nearest shore and find an appropriate spot to build up my tent. 

A small inlet on the opposite shore of from where I started proved to be a save harbour to set up my camp, so I pulled my kayak out of the water and went for a short walk to inspect my new ‘home’ for the night. Equipped with a can of bear spray in my right hand I walked down a partly overgrown track to find a wider open space to build up my tent. About 100 meter from the waterside I found a space big enough to build up my tent, so I quickly ran back towards the lake to start unpacking my tent. A mere five minutes later I was  able to sit inside my tent and hear the rain drops hit the outside of my tent. I unrolled my sleeping mat and crawled into my warm sleeping bag, and not too much later I went into a deep and comfortable sleep.  

In order to make the weekend as relaxing as possible I left my phone behind in the car, so I have no idea what time it was when I woke up the next morning but it must have been already pretty late in the morning. The dark clouds of the night before were now replaced by a clear blue sky and bright yellow sun.  A breakfast consisting of 2 bananas, a couple of granola bars and a bottle of water provided me with enough energy to start the day with, so I headed back to my kayak, leaving my tent behind as storage for most of my gear. Soon I was surrounded by water again, and looking in every possible direction all I saw was rolling mountains with green trees. I spent an unknown amount of time enjoying the scenery and the weather until I passed a small island with a fairly high, sandy hill on it. I figured the top of the hill must give an impressive view of the area, so I paddled around the island to find a spot to dock my kayak and explore the island. 

While walking up the sandy hill I felt like a little Robinson Crusoe on my own little island and like I expected, the hill provided my with a magnificient view of the lake. I collected a pile of rocks and used the branch of a dead tree to dig a hole to build a small fire pit. Still not having any sence of time I don’t know for sure how long it took me, but my pile of rocks turned relatively fast into a small fire pit big enough to grill my corn on the cob, my leftover bananas and some bread. This small and largely improvised meal on a location like this tasted better than many meals I ate in luxury restaurants around the world.

After my lunch break I put out the fire, walked back to my kayak and decided this was a place I would return to in the near future. I paddled back to my tent, loaded everything back in the kayak and crossed the lake again to get back to my car. Just before reaching my car I saw the small creek I didn’t pay too much attention to the night before. I asked an old man walking his dog on the shore whether this creek was heading to the highway, and if it was possible to paddle it downstream. He nodded and assured me it was about a 500 meter to 1 kilometer trip till it would go underneath the highway, followed by a spot where I could easily pull out my kayak. Before I thanked him for the information he added that there were no beaver dams or other obstacles so that it would be an easy trip downstream.  

After paddling down the stream for what felt like one kilometer I expected to see the highway after every turn the creek made. Instead the creek became more and more overgrown by trees and other vegetation, making it more and more difficult to paddle through. Not much later the first trees starting blocking the creek entirely, forcing me to get out of my kayak and drag the boat over the trees. By now it was already too late to turn around so I decided to continue, still expecting to see the highway after the next turn. After passing these natural obstacles the current became stronger, and it took some serious efforts to keep control of the kayak. I started laughing thinking back of what the old man told me not too long ago, and concluded he had clearly no idea what he was talking about. A couple of turns later a beaver dam showed up in front of me, and after a failed attempt to stop the kayak I rolled over and was forced to my first unvoluntarily swim. I quickly grabbed the side of my kayak to put it back up again, but a branch sticking out of the dam got stuck behind the cover of my waterproof compartment and took of the lit. To make things worse, this was exactly the compartment I stored my camera in, and thus ruining a 1800 dollar camera in a fraction of the time in took me to save up for it. By now I got pretty upset, but I had no other option than to continue.

Not having any sense of time now turned into a negative thing, since I had no idea where I was nor where I was going. After a couple more strenuous sections I reached a large beaver dam, with a steep one meter drop behind it. I decided to get to the shore and take some time to decide what to do next. A couple of screams to figure out if I was near any civilization turned out to be useless, so I decided to leave my kayak behind and see if I could find an accessible road somewhere. With an axe in one hand, and a can of bear spray in the other I tried to find a way towards where I believed the road must be. Shortly after I left my kayak behind I realized it was close to impossible to pass this section on the forest, so I decided to turn around and look for a possible way to pass the dam. Walking back to the river I noticed what I believed were fresh bear excrements. I tend to sing only when I`m drunk, but at this time I felt the pressure to sing as loud as I could to scare away any bear that was possibly nearby.

It wouldn’t misfit in a new Pepsi commercial, but I sat down in my kayak, drank my last can of Pepsi and decided I had no other option than paddle towards the dam and look for any possibility to go down the dam. I wrapped a rope around my waist and secured the other end to the front of the boat. As soon as I reached the dam I jumped out of my kayak  and crawled down the dam, hoping that it would not break under my weight, which would than cause a wave with an enormous amount of debris. Except for the sounds of a number of branches cracking underneath me, the dam seemed to hold up and I managed to get safely to the creek one meter below. From here on the creek was more accesible again, and I started to enjoy my adventure again. Instead of reaching the highway the creek turned out to end in another lake, making me wonder if I would make it back to Whitehorse on time to open the office on Monday morning.  

I looked around to identify anything that would either direct me towards the highway, or provide me with an indication of where I was at. In the far back of the lake I spotted something that could possibly be a cabin, so I started paddling towards it. Halfway the lake I could clearly see the cabin. To my luck there was a lady sitting on the deck when I arrived at the cabin. Although she was surprised to see someone showing up in front of her, she was more impressed by the number of mosquito bites I turned out to have on my face, arms and legs. Without even noticing it I seemed to be eaten alive while fighting the creek. After the lady was kind enough to give me some mosquito spray she told me I was at Little Braeburn Lake, and that I would have to paddle to the opposite side of the lake and walk about 2 kilometer to reach the highway.

After I took all the water out of my kayak and tried to recover my camera I thanked her for her help and took off to cross the lake. With sore arms I reached the other side, dragged my kayak out of the water and with my backpack on my bag started walking down the heavily eroded dirt road. After walking the 2 kilometer reaching the highway now felt like a victory, but from here on it was still a 3 kilometer hike to reach the Breaburn lodge. Just after I started the last kilometer the first car passed me, which I waved down for a ride to reach the lodge.

Again the kitchen was closed, but the owner offered me to make me a fresh turkey sandwich.  While I sat down to eat my sandwich I toldhim what happened on my trip down the creek. According to the owner of the lodge the creek is known to locals to be inaccessible and as far as he knew noone attempted to follow the 5-6 kilometer creek down to the end for a large number of years. Upon finishing my sandwich I walked the remaining two kilometer back to finally reach my car. By now it was already 10.30 PM and it took me another 30 minutes to drive back to my van and load everything up again. Although I was exhausted and preferred to sleep in the back of my van and drive back the next morning, I figured it would be better to drive home now, change into a dry set of clothes and get some good rest in my own bed before another busy week at work would start on monday morning.

Driving down the highway I concluded it had been an unforgettable weekend, with an excessively high price to pay in the end, with over 50 mosquito bites, arms and legs full of scratches and bruces, and an 1800 dollar camera to replace.