Day: May 24, 2017

A bit early in the season still, but an escape from town and into the Yukon seems prudent, so I pack the truck with food, water, and gear, point it north and fly up the Haines Highway towards the border. Once past said political nonsensical imaginary line in the sand, I am cruising the upper corridors of the Haines Summit area and whisping down into the interior. I am surprised to find the great and vast Aspen stands here are just now beginning to bud with no leafing yet having occurred. I see three Black Bears between Haines and Haines Junction today… they are out foraging and the roadsides seem to attract them; for whatever reason I do not know.

My mind and heart are a wreck and a good stiff hike into the Yukon wild is in order; I have chose to explore the Slim’s River West trail, which travels up the Slim’s to it’s source at the toe of the enormous Kaskuwalsh Glacier and until recently, was the source for the Yukon’s largest lake – Kluane Lake. The Slim’s native name is A ay Chu, but the english name comes from the name of a horse who got stuck in the river’s quicksand and subsequently died. Poor ‘ol Slim. The Kluane region of the Yukon is much more than just a beautiful and vast place. It is a place of ancient history, eminent cultural treasures of the Kluane, Aishihik, Tutchone, and Champagne first nation peoples, and has been for thousands of years. It is also an enormously beautiful and mysterious place that holds the northern hemispheres largest non-polar icefields, including the remote and seldom seen Mt Logan, Canada’s highest peak at 19,551 feet above sea level. Recently, due to glacial retreat of the Kaskuwalsh, the Slim’s River has changed it’s course and now no longer empties into Kluane Lake. In a short time, the mighty lake has already lost a great deal of it’s holdings.

I head to the visitor center in Haines Junction to buy a map and get some info; an enjoyable and slightly flirtatious conversation with the Kluane woman who sold me the map reveals that the Slim’s River West trail has been closed down due to high Grizzly activity in the area. Apparently, a large boar Griz walked right through two hikers kitchen just a couple days prior. She informs me that the Slim’s River East route is in fact open, but I may have difficulty with route finding this time of year and especially since the geologic upset in the area recently. I ponder this briefly and I am out the door heading north to find my old campsite up on Bear Creek Summit. I had last camped here in 2011 while riding my Ogre up from Moab. A lovely little spot amongst the White Spruce and Aspens with views to the west of the Kluane front range, and to the east, the low sub arctic hills of the vast and wild Dawson Plateau. Later, after my supper of Turkey and avocado sandwiches on home made sourdough, I set up my trusty tent and then set on the tailgate and crack open a beer. Something is amiss here; my mind is struggling, my heart bleeding. I realize that my passion, intensity, and perseverance tend to drive those away that I wish to hold close. This set of traits works great for backcountry trips, mountaineering, and all out survival, but seems to be of little help regarding people. My constant need for self expression seems to always do more harm than good. At 49 years old, I still seem to be learning life’s hard lessons. I am as tough as nails, but have a tender heart; a winning combination it would seem, but it is not always so. I come from a place of only love, but my execution seems constantly in need of improvement. I fear not the furry four legged creatures of this planet, but fear greatly the hostile and unpredictable two leggeds. Melancholy grips me and I am unable to enjoy my surroundings…

I crawl into my tent and ponder the coming the midnight sun. There seems to be too much of it these days. I wish for winters return so I may fold myself into it; all this sunshine is nurturing my sadness. The Slim’s seems a far fetched notion at this point and my alternate, Mt Decoeli is still under much of winters snow. All I feel now, here in my tent is emptiness and without hope. In a flash, I pack my shit into the back of the decrepit Toyota and pull onto the Alaska Highway, and head home.