Healing and Connection Dawson To Dos

CONNECTION AND HEALING

Kay has lived in the North for eight years. She is interested in spiritual practice, healing, creativity and land connection. Between painting and writing, Kay makes sure to spend quality time in the wilderness that surrounds her. She is currently working on her first book, inspired by a kayaking pilgrimage she did in 2018 from Atlin to Dawson City.

THE DISTANCES WE GO

After living in the North for nearly a decade, I have come to appreciate that travelling over 500 kilometres to replenish my food supply and see a dentist is merely a leg stretch.

And a five-hour drive to reach the closest lake is simply the time it takes to go swimming. Although I try to minimize my carbon footprint and time behind the wheel, there always seems to be an occasion to go the distance. My sister’s wedding, as well as medical trips down South, will require me to drive 2,500 kilometres, starting down the winding and scenic Stewart Cassiar Highway.

If you had expected me to travel these distances before I moved north, I would have thought you were bonkers. But, up here the distances we go are great and I am starting to get used to them. I’m almost starting to enjoy travelling these wide-open spaces (and I know I’m not the only one).

It appears that some of us are celebrating these distances by racing through them. We relay over scenic roads for 240 kilometres, from Haines to Haines. And we chart unsettled waters, paddling 715 kilometres in the Yukon River Quest. Mushers also venture out in mid-winter, across the dark desolate landscape, in attempts to cover the 1,600-kilometre-long Yukon Quest.

Back here in the bush, I’ve heard of hard-core locals walking entire traplines. While others have hiked ancient trails, only to get lost for days or weeks at a time. What a tale they have spun upon their return—one of resilience and resourcefulness. The Indigenous Peoples of this land and water would travel vast distances from summer to winter camps, from salmon to caribou, from coast to inland, from trade to community gatherings. It is simply astonishing the distances they used to travel, and by such humble methods—canoe, dog team, on foot—down rivers and across overland trails.

For the most part, our modes of transportation have changed and continue to change dramat-

ically, over time—from foot to car, dogsled to skidoo, and canoe to motorboat—but the distances remain the same, and we travel them all the same. And there are still some back-to-the-landers who stay committed to carrying on traditional methods of travel. We can also look to our animal friends for inspiration, who continue to travel unbelievable distances under self-powered methods.

The Sandhill Cranes, who we hear trumpeting overhead every spring and fall, migrate thousands

of kilometres to and from their northern breeding grounds. We are talking hundreds of thousands of cranes riding the thermals and traversing the prevailing wind currents from as far south as Mexico, to northern and central Yukon and Alaska. Some even cross the Bering Strait to Siberia, all for the sole purpose of breeding. And yes, their fledglings fly the entire distance back with their parents, months later. Talk about impressive kids!

And if you think that migration is epic, consider the North-

PHOTO: Kay Linley

Sandhill Cranes during migration

ern Wheatear, a small unassuming songbird that breeds in Yukon each summer. The Dempster Highway is apparently a good place to try and spot them. The bird makes its return journey to its wintering grounds in sub-Saharan Africa, 21,000 kilometres across Alaska, the Bering Strait, Asia and the Middle East. This bird migration is out of this world; or, maybe I should say around it!

And the resident grizzly bears, maybe not making a true migration but certainly going the distance, within their territories, are known to travel up to 250 kilometres, per year, in search of food. They occupy large home ranges (especially the males) of around 1500 kilometres2. They need large tracts of wilderness to survive and, unfortunately, habitat loss from human encroachment is their biggest threat.

And our finned friends, the salmon, also travel thousands of kilometres from their natal streams, to the Bering Sea, only to return from the oceans, years later, to spawn in the same rivers they were reared in. And if it wasn’t hard enough the first time, the return trip is against the current. Given that there are very few salmon returning to spawn here in the Yukon, the ones that continue to make the perilous journey are even more precious.

As I reflect on all of the incredibly unfathomable journeys these animals take, out of necessity, to complete their life cycles, I receive a perspective shift for my own life challenges. These animals are driven by a force so great that they can overcome seemingly insurmountable odds and complete distances beyond our comprehension. And, although I forget sometimes, I am also made from the same fabric as these animals. Maybe I am a bit softer and not as strong, but I still have the same force within me.

The grandiosity of the upcoming distances I need to go in my life is reduced when I think of my fellow traveling companions, both human and animal. In all this good company, the distances start to feel less like an obstacle, in the way of my dreams, and more like a part of me, like who I am—a northerner, with drbehindeams big enough to fill the wide-open spaces.

Whether I achieve my dreams or not is beside the point. As I reflect upon the salmon, I come to realize that they don’t swim the distance back to their natal streams only if they make it. They swim their migration regardless; it is hard-wired into who they are. Their journey is an unconditional one. n

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2. Forage, and connect with nature’s abundance

Most Yukoners probably know at least a little bit about some of the delicious edible things growing in our boreal forests, but there’s always more to learn. Grab your family or get together with a group of friends and take a day trip somewhere, with the intention of only eating what you can forage or catch. Take along your fishing rods (and fishing licenses), a copy of Beverley Gray’s book, The Boreal Herbal, and one of the many mushroom field guides available at Mac’s Fireweed Books, and see what you can find.

Each season in the Yukon brings with it its own treasures, and you’ll gain a new appreciation for the abundance around us. Spring offers sweet yellow dandelion flowers, tangy spruce tips and tasty morels. Summer brings with it wild strawberries, fireweed and meadow mushrooms. The end of summer and the beginning of autumn is berry time, with raspberries, Saskatoons and blueberries weighing down their branches. And around the time of the first snowfall, deep-red cranberries are at their sweetest. Preferably go with someone who knows their way around a fishing rod, or who has experience mushroom hunting, and you’ll be sure to have a Yukon culinary adventure like no other.

3. Let a friend teach you

Maybe you’ve been wanting to learn how to rock climb or canoe, or maybe you’ve always thought standup paddleboarding (SUP) looked like fun. But classes are expensive, there’s never enough time and another year goes by without you ever trying anything new. One of the many great things about living in the Yukon is that it’s almost guaranteed that within your circle of friends there’s at least one person who has years of experience doing exactly that thing that you’ve wanted to try. Borrow or rent the necessary equipment and ask a friend to teach you the basics. By the end of the day, you’ll at least have a better sense of whether you want to invest in buying your own equipment and whether you enjoyed it enough to spend more time and energy learning more. Return the favour by teaching your friend something that you’re experienced at and that they’re interested in learning.

4. Take a day trip from your doorstep

Many people get discouraged to go on adventures because of all of the preparation that’s needed. So instead of having to load up the car with coolers and bikes and then driving at least an hour to the trailhead, try to simplify things. Pack a lunch, throw a towel in your backpack, grab your bike and start riding. If you can, try to follow a route you’re not familiar with and aim towards a lake or a river. Ride until midday and cool off with a swim in some nice icy Yukon water. Enjoy your picnic and then get back on your bike and head home. Hopefully you’ll feel recharged and accomplished in the evening.

5. Spend a night under the Midnight Sun

When was the last time you slept outside under the stars? Instead of turning on the TV in the evening and falling asleep on the couch, take your family outside, make a campfire and watch the sunset. Set up a tent in the backyard, for the kids, and if you’re feeling very adventurous, hang up a hammock for yourself. Depending on the month, you might not see very many stars because it won’t get dark enough … but you may see the moon, and if you’re lucky, you may even see a bat or two flying around, or maybe a flying squirrel gliding down to your bird feeder. Be sure to dress warmly and maybe put on some extra bug spray. An added bonus to backyard camping, instead of regular camping, is that in the morning you can just walk back into your house and make your breakfast in the comfort of your own kitchen. Who said adventures couldn’t end with a delicious hot cup of coffee? n

Refreshed and recharged

PHOTOS: Jessica Surber