This little adventure took place in mid-April out on the Yukon river.  It was a good workout as it was late afternoon and the snow was a bit slushy.  Better to go early in the morning for trips like this when the snow is still hard-packed and it’s a little cooler.

Herschel is about 9 months old and just learning to skijor. In fact, this was his first attempt.  We took two “old” (but still very young at heart!) dogs, Jack & Harris to teach him the ropes. It’s often much easier to train a pup like this. They take cues from the other dogs much easier than they do from us humans.

We first tried Herschel alone, having him “chase” the other two dogs. That instinct comes in handy when teaching a dog to pull. The excitement of the chase makes him forget he’s actually pulling you! Some dogs might stop or slow down until they figure out that the thing pulling them back is normal and ok.  Trying to get “in synch” with your skiing and the dogs pulling – so you’re not jarring him – helps.

Since Herschel got along with the other dogs and was looking a bit hesitant, we hooked him up with Jack.

It’s all about them having FUN at this age (well, and all the time really).  This really made a difference as he was running right beside his new buddy and he just had to follow along, and keep up!

Here’s a short video after we got things all figured out.  It was a successful training run for Herschel and a blast for us humans as well.

And after the snow melts, then what you ask?  We trade in skis for wheels… stay tuned!

After the U-Haul jacknifed in the middle of the highway, on a HILL (made it out of that ok), we were stuck overnighting at a gas station in the SUV. In December! What fun!

The trip took twice as long as it would have if we took the Alaska highway, but that was 12 years ago and the information wasn’t out there as it is these days. And summer roads are a different, much more… pleasant experience.

So! Here begins our first in a series of  “The AK highway” travel stories. We’re going to focus on the Muncho Lake area in this post.

My parents are becoming pros at driving the highway. They come up from Calgary every couple of years and have found the best spots along the route to stay and visit and sight-see. Let’s take a look at some of those places and their suggestions for others hitting the Alaska highway!

They have traveled the route in an truck/camper and in an SUV, so they’ve sought out campsites that are RV-friendly and stayed in hotels as well.

The one place they’ve returned to every time and raved about is Toad River Lodge, located on the southern edge of Muncho Lake.  They described the campground as a “quaint, beautiful campground on a little river” and liked it so much they went back a few times. It’s not a 5-star hotel, but if you are expecting one of those on this route… well, you better head in another direction! It was comfortable, reasonable and clean – three must-haves on an Alaska highway journey.

Another highlight of an Alaska highway trip are the encouters with bison along the highway.  You also better not be in a rush on the Alaska highway, sometimes the universe has other plans – like telling you to stop and enjoy the view!

Just ask these folks who owns the road (the commentary and “appropriate Neil Young music” is especially entertaining!)

Spring in the Yukon is an amazing time of year.  The joy and happiness on Yukoners faces – in reaction to the growing daylight and warmth – is something I can’t get enough of.  It also seems, that no matter how long you’ve been here, it is always a surprise to us when the daylight increases. It’s always a freakishly joyous time of year.

Let’s just say that with sunrise at 6:21 am and sunset at 9:10 pm, our days are getting loooong!

We’ve had an exceptional spring so far. It’s been warm, snow is rapidly melting and people are starting to make summer plans.

But! There are still lots of spring activities to do – like skiing at higher elevations, where the snow is not slushy like it is down lower right now.  This is the reason you may see many Yukoners rockin’ the face-only tans in March & April.

So, sit back, enjoy the ride – get out there and enjoy this time of year.  YAM is back and here’s what we are working on:

• Spring skijoring & pup skijor training
• RV’ing it up the Alaska Highway
• Avalanche Awareness and backcountry skiing
• More girly peeing gadgets (can’t get enough of these, they are necessary when adventuring!)
• If YOU have a story you’d like to share, let us know! You can be visiting, a local, just passing through, anything. We’d LOVE to hear from you and would love even more to share your stories with everyone.

In the meantime, enjoy one of our popular spring activities – visiting Swan Haven and observing the first of the migrating birds into the Yukon. This area is one of the first to have open water in the spring and it is a critical stopover for migrating birds on the long migration to northern nesting grounds.

The Interpretive Centre is open April 1 – April 30. There is also indoor and outdoor interpretive panels, daily swan counts, activities and a superb viewing platform.

Some of you, outside of the Yukon, may be wondering what we do here on New Years Eve.  Well, it can range as much as NY festivities do anywhere else, but there can also be a certain “northerly” angle to some NY celebrations.

Some common NY celebrations in the Yukon:

• dogsledding at the stroke of midnight
• bonfire parties complete with fireworks (everyone up here seemed to have fireworks this year!)
• skating & pond hockey parties
• tobogganing
• skiing (cross-country, downhill, backcountry)

And…. skijoring! This is what we did this year and we have some videos & photos to show just how much fun it was.

There are LOADS of great, groomed public trails around Whitehorse, and we found these about 20 mins outside of town.  Well packed, WIDE trails make for great skijoring trails.   A bunch of us headed out with 9 dogs, 3 sets of skis and one dogsled. It was about -16C, perfect for skijoring with light layers on  – you warm up quite a bit while skijoring.  It’s a fun, fantastic workout.

Here we are getting ready, with a mass of lines and dogs and people tripping over each other in a fairly confined space, but luckily the dogs are old pros at this.  It didn’t take long for us to get going.  And even though they’ve done this a million times, the whining, screeching dogs were certainly happy once we got going!

Ever wonder what it’s like to skijor?

Pooh Bear and Woody and I are off! These two little happy creatures are a joy to skijor with.  Even though I’ve tried, I just can’t go back to cross country skiing without dogs, it just seems to slow and boring now. Having a couple of 50lb dogs help out makes for a faster and potentially wild and crazy experience. Depending on trails, you can have a wee bit of fun – we had some good downhill sections here. The dogs ran full out and I had to snowplow to keep from running into them. The trail was windy and full of bumps as well. I took some air off of some of those downhill bumps and the dogs kept pulling.

Time for a bit of a break!  They know the dogsled team is up ahead and were not big fans of just “taking a break” – there was a team to catch.  If you ever want to try your dog skijoring for the first time, the best way to do it is to have them CHASE something.  Anything – other dogs, loose dogs, a skidoo, etc. It works wonders and most dogs just have that innate need to chase (and pull while they’re at it).

Here you can see the workout they’re giving me as we go slightly uphill… and the dog team is up ahead if you look closely. Sorry for the somewhat sideways video, but it’s hard to hold a camera while your hands are strapped into ski poles! I REALLY need a helmet-cam.

And that’s how we roll on New Year’s Eve in the Yukon!!! What a great way to finish off the year, with good friends and dogs.

All the best to YAM readers in 2012!

The breeder we purchased him from named all the puppies by colour to sort out which ones had already been sold. Even before we saw Mr. Green and his littermates my wife was certain of two things: we were getting a male Bouvier and he was to be called chosen the name “Aklak”.  The name Aklak translated means Grizzly or Brown bear to the Inuvialuit.  Soon after we took Aklak home with us we left Calgary for Desert Hot Spring, California. By necessity he quickly became a veteran traveler, and to this day whenever he hears the word “Jeep” his attention is instantly piqued.

We lived in Southern California for just over one year, before we chose to return to Canada. The California desert is no place for a northern breed, but while down there, we kept his coat very short.

True to the breed, Aklak is loyal, protective of his family and a steady guardian. My job requires me to be away from my home for frequent extended periods and these outings are made easier because I know Aklak is there. Whenever I leave and am away he changes and becomes extra protective and Heather loves it because it makes her feel safe. His intimidating size and a loud deep bark is more than enough to keep unwelcome visitors away, and I know that if need be Aklak would do what a guardian does. He has, on more than one occasion, even frightened me as I approached the front door.

In true Yukon style Aklak is a working dog, after all, Bouviers are a working breed. When he was younger he would skijor and we even entered a few Copper Haul Twister pet dog races.

Unfortunately we found out early that he will pull with everything he has for as long as he can – which was usually less than the 5 km race loop. Recreational skijoring was just not a good fit for his heavy build so we began to look for other actives we could get him involved in. In 2005 we saw a friend’s dog compete in the Yukon Sourdough Rendezvous One Dog Freight Pull and we knew right away that Aklak would love it… and he did.  

He was a natural at it, and the following year Aklak was entered in the freight pull.  He entered a total of four times from 2006 - 2009. It was in 2009, which was to be his last year in the competition, in which he came out on top. We’ve always let him show us if he wanted to work and if it ever looked like he was not up for it we would simply not enter him anymore.

That is what happened the winter of 2010. His usual method of training for the freight pull was nightly wood hauling workouts, but last winter Aklak had lost something.  He was still excited and ready to pull but his body could not do what it once did. He had lost none of his drive, but physically he had slowed down considerably.  Aklak, being the way he is, would have certainly pushed himself to injury, so Heather and I made the decision to retire him and not enter him in any more freight pull competitions.  Hauling wood keeps him active and he still gets excited every time he does it.

Aklak is now ten and we allow him all the comforts an older working dog deserves, he sleeps on our bed and/or on the couch.  This is a difficult time for me because every once in a while I still see the younger dog in him, but it never lasts. H e runs out of energy fast and needs more and more time to recover.

I never knew how a dog could become such a large part of my life. I find myself wondering how long will he be around for?  Has he had a good life with us? Of course I know he has, and I know he will not be around forever… even though I want him to be.

He is not yet gone these thoughts continue, and I can not help how sad I get when I think of him being gone. I am not ready to replace him, nor do I think I could.  He is my first dog I want to be there with him at the end, unfortunately my type of work keeps me away from home for extended periods. I worry that one day when I return home I won’t be greeted by his distinct bark… only a strange silence telling me he is no longer there.

Although Aklak was not born here…. he is a truly a Yukon Dog.

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. 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 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 loud thunder, which made me decide 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 safe 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 metres 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 had 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 two 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 sense of time I didn’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 kilometre 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 off the lid.  To make things worse, this was exactly the compartment I stored my camera in, and thus ruining a $1800 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 excrement. 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 fit 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. 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 accessible 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 had 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 kilometres 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, started walking down the heavily eroded dirt road. After walking down the road reaching the highway now  felt  like  a victory,  but  from here on it was still a two kilometre hike to reach the Breaburn lodge. Just after I started the last kilometre 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 told him what happened on my trip down the creek. According to the owner of the lodge the creek is known to locals to be inaccessible. Upon finishing my sandwich I walked the remaining two kilometres 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: over 50 mosquito bites, arms and legs full of scratches and bruces, and an $1800 camera to replace.

This story was sumbitted by Bob Van Beers as part of the October bootie contest. Thanks for your entry Bob! Hope you are able to replace that camera soon.

I have always been a searcher: new fish, new technique, new location, but I have not enjoyed fishing this much since I was young. These new experiences, new sensations every time I am out on the water are completely addictive.

My kayak somehow transports me back to a time where it was all about getting out fishing, and not what I caught, or how big it was. It was indeed a simple time, where all I wanted to do was fish. I had no stresses about work, home, and family. All that mattered on the weekend, every weekend was getting down to the river with my friend Paul and being there all day.

How did this all happen?

I think it was an amalgamation of things that now has me fishing from a kayak and loving it as much as I do, and I do have one person to thank.

This individual saw an avid angler without a boat come into the store where he works three years ago. We spoke for hours about kayaks and to this day I think he wanted to get me into a kayak so he could see if I was a just a tall tale teller or if I could really fish. After that first kayak fishing excursion to Snafu Lake two things were made clear:

1. I became instantly addicted to kayak fishing

2. My friend was a far better paddler than fisherman.

In the years that have followed Kalin has sold me five kayaks, taught me to paddle better and shown me how to truly enjoy fishing for what it really is….just being there.

Thanks Kalin.

Dave “Bowrider” Desmarais

Bertha

Meet Bertha, one of *Cabela’s Commercial-Grade Electric Meat Grinders.  This one horsepower grinder has part of our family for the last three hunting seasons.

Bertha is easy to use with only a few parts to be assembled and powerful enough to process any variety of game quickly at 9-12lbs per minute.  Often times we cannot feed meat in fast enough to keep up with her ability.  She has a solid build at 58 pounds so it is not necessary to bolt her to a surface for use.

Bertha is safe enough that we allow our young children to help drop meat into the shoot.

The protective cover on the very large meat holding tray makes it nearly impossible to accidentally turn your fingers into burger.

She cleans up well with a rinse of cold water first and then a good hot soak.  She also has the ability to process your game into various degrees of coarseness as well as stuffing tubes to make your own sausage.

We would highly recommend bringing this other woman into your own home!

*Kara & Matt were not paid in any way by Cabela’s to promote this product. Their love & devotion is based solely on their personal experiences and tasty dinners thanks to Bertha the meat grinder.

And thanks to everyone who entered the contest, reading about your Yukon adventures was the highlight for me.  I never doubted that there are some entertaining, heartwarming and just darned crazy Yukon adventures out there.  Let’s keep ‘em coming.  Spread the word! I have more schwag to share so keep writing.

And stay tuned: I’ve got 3 new stories lined up, two interviews I’m working on and hope to share some ski/snowboarding videos soon, made by local youth.