It was great to get back on the river and into the wilderness again. The first few kilometres were paddling around the large oxbow curves the river takes through Carmacks, under the steel bridge that we had walked over a couple of times in our missions to town, and the only means of road crossing of the river for hundreds of kilometres. Carmacks is the sort of central hub from where road travelers have to chose where they head for the next couple of hundred kilometres, and because of the single bridge there is no chance for correcting wrong choices. The Yukon Territory is a different place. One of the larger Canadian territories in area, but less than 35 000 inhabitants of which more than 32 000 live in either Whitehorse, Dawson City or Carmacks. This is a state of wide open space wilderness.
Leaving Carmacks the river flow slowed to an almost dam like stagnancy, increasing our expectancy for the awaiting Five Fingers Rapid, dam wall that lay some 30 kilometres downstream. Thirty years ago, Imi had had a traumatic experience on these rapids, after choosing the wrong 'finger' of the five, so I sensed a building level of apprehension as we approached them. One kilometre before we stopped to secure all our gear in the boat, Imi removing his potential anchor, walking boots, donning the head video camera, and then we were off for the challenge of the day. Final run through our paddling procedure and instructions for emergency direction changes, and the roar of the rapids became much louder as we came around the last river bend and the significant basalt towers of the rock gates that form the rapids appeared. Calling out what I could see, to try and give Imi the full experience, I shouted "300 metres to go, looking perfect and we must up our paddling tempo to have speed through the waves. It was exhilarating watching us hit the first standing wave, Imi taking lots of water in the bow, but paddling on unnerved, we bobbed and crashed our way, with a course that was straight as an arrow through the few hundred metres of standing waves, most of which were around 1.5 metres. Nothing for the experienced kayak paddler, but a little challenging in a fully laden open canoe with two, more than 90 kilogram, elderly citizens who watched as each wave noticeably added to the quickly rising water level inside the boat. Soon we were through the standing wave section, and as I said to Imi we were through it, he put his paddle down and punched the heavens in a display of both victory and relief. I lent forward and tapped him on the shoulder saying: "Well done mate, we did it", a special moment. As I leaned forward I felt how unstable the canoe was, now half fill with river. We nursed the boat downstream, struggling to paddle across stream to an idyllic island beach that eventually confirmed our endeavors were well rewarded. Bailing all the water from the boat was followed by a well deserved lunch and basking in the glorious sunshine of the day. A chance to dry a few pieces of wet clothing and take in the first real sunny day of our trip.
The rest of day's paddle was extremely pleasant, other than the strong Northerly wind; we enjoyed the ride in the smaller Rink rapids, and ended up doing 58 kilometres on the day. The river snakes its way north, and with the north wind, often as we rounded a bend, the full brunt of the north wind suddenly hit us, seemingly stopping the canoe in its tracks, and leaving me wandering whether there even was any river current helping us. Imi is largely oblivious to our pace across the ground, maybe a blessing in disguise on these headwind sections.
At around 5pm we beached on a small island, two hundred metres long, and right mid river, with gurgling river flowing both sides...the perfect overnight camp spot. Once the tents were up, coffee made, we had both stripped down and were enjoying skinny dipping in the still high in the sky, and quite fierce, sun. We both warmed up to the point were a swim in the icy water became a virtual 'next step'. It was a shock to the system, but a great way to celebrate our own special island paradise. What a difference the sun makes, this is just such pleasant canoeing and camping.
Still no real animal life, although we do see lots of ducks, birds and squirrels.
Conversation on the canoe has noticeably matured, and is more about looking for common ground of our initially thought, seemingly diametrically opposite person life philosophies. Imi has now conceded that my Life is a Series of Adventures approach is an attempt to establish a virtually continuous Zen like life. The setting and planning of the adventures although seemingly anti Zen, non now activities, being critical for delivering the 'in adventure' huge Zen moments, like we are now experiencing in the days on the river. Anyway, I hope this makes a bit of sense to some readers....It's hard to capture days of debate in a few lines. It's all been great fun though!
Imi's Moment of Reflection:
Nature's Beauty
What makes Nature so great?
Unquestionably the immensity of life forms and the multifarious strategies for survival are astonishing. However, this could be a cosmic accident brought about by natural selection over billions of years. But I'm not so sure. It appears to me that life is a creative upward moving force. Whenever life is given free reign nature in all its beauty and diversity finds expression. How rich, how beautiful are the coral reefs, the Amazon forests etc. The balance that nature achieves which we can only disturb and impair is exquisite and grand. This, however, doesn’t have to be so. Algae blooms, bacterias, and fungi could have predominated, but life aims for diversity and richness.
Leaving aside these metaphysical musings, what is undeniable, for humans who are receptive is that Nature speaks and responds to what is pure and grand in us.
Words of wisdom from an amazing blind outdoorsman.
Finally, another nature wonder: I described the island we are on, and its pretty much in the middle of a fast flowing part of the river 300 metres to either shore, definitely not swimmable for a human, unless you have a wetsuit and are ok making it to the river bank kilometres down stream. The island is really small, with no trees, just scrub. Well at the northern end I found reasonably fresh moose hoof prints, less than a week old!
That's it for today, time too pack up and head off, with another perfect looking day ahead. Over the next few days we will switch our day routine, so we get to paddle through the night for a unique experience. While it's night it's not really dark up at these latitudes, but we will share the story soon...
Thanks for all the emails, sorry satphone time means we can only respond when back in normal land. Keep them coming though; it motivates us to enrich these blog postings. Imi would love ANY questions, and he means ANY!
Take care
H + I
Saturday, June 25, 2011
A Great Rest Day!
Still at Carmacks, a great relaxing day, and a wonderful last night’s sleep in a bed for a while....
It's a beautiful day today, blue sky, sun streaming through our window, birds chirping and even the squirrels are nattering in their sometimes confusing bird like calls. The forecast is for sunny weather for the 'next week', whatever that means....but sounds very promising!
Yesterday was very relaxing, so much so we are taking a bit of a blog break today....
Just to add: We have 400 kilometres in front of us to Dawson City, and we expect his will take about 7 days. We will probably take the opportunity to spend two nights at a special campsite we hope to find along the way. Other than that we will just be out in the solitude of the river paddling every day. We are both really looking forward to getting back to wilderness life.
Hold thumbs for us getting safely through Five Fingers Rapids. It's about 30 kilometres into the day today and should be fun.
Till tomorrow, take care
H + I
It's a beautiful day today, blue sky, sun streaming through our window, birds chirping and even the squirrels are nattering in their sometimes confusing bird like calls. The forecast is for sunny weather for the 'next week', whatever that means....but sounds very promising!
Yesterday was very relaxing, so much so we are taking a bit of a blog break today....
Just to add: We have 400 kilometres in front of us to Dawson City, and we expect his will take about 7 days. We will probably take the opportunity to spend two nights at a special campsite we hope to find along the way. Other than that we will just be out in the solitude of the river paddling every day. We are both really looking forward to getting back to wilderness life.
Hold thumbs for us getting safely through Five Fingers Rapids. It's about 30 kilometres into the day today and should be fun.
Till tomorrow, take care
H + I
Thursday, June 23, 2011
From a Different Environment…back to civilisation!
Today I sit here writing this blog in such a different 'space' to that of yesterday:
We reached the town of Carmacks at around 3pm, well the main campsite, invitingly named, Coal Mine campground, about a two kilometre walk to Carmacks. A really canoe friendly place, right on the river, and with just one vacant cabin left to rent, it seemed to be made for us. It wasn't that easy a decision though, so we grabbed a cuppa coffee, two delicious cinnamon rolls and thought through our options testing them against the original overall adventure mission. Would two nights in a cosy cabin versus tenting detract from our experience, and our sense of personal triumph. Was this a copout we would later regret. Imi has this powerful concept that we need a personal 'struggle' (challenge) and that the sense of personal triumph we get from overcoming the challenge gives us 'personal height', and the main goal in life is to increase one's personal height. Very importantly this height is within and is not relative to others. So....
We both agreed the cabin option was right in line with our adventure goal, acknowledging it would reduce our level personal struggle, but would enhance our overall experience by providing us with two relaxing days immersed in the Carmacks and campsite community.
The deal was done, and so last night saw us going to bed on normal beds with fresh clean sheets and a mosquito free environment. As fate has it, by the late afternoon the clouds had moved off, replaced by blue sky and a delightful sunshine, so the roof over our heads never got the chance to bring back thoughts of the challenges of all too familiar pitter patter of our tent days.
A bit about yesterday's canoeing on the river:
For those that are following our adventure on Google earth, you will see the tortuous path the Yukon takes. Even with its power and size, the mountainous terrain mostly dominates, forcing the river around its many bluffs, and ranges. Often the river has a small win breaking through less robust land areas forming islands that provide evidence of the ongoing battle of nature. Yesterday's river section was prominent in both the plethora of islands we encountered and the impressive bluffs. The islands providing us with route choices that often saw us virtually having to paddle up stream to reach our chosen channel. I think Imi thought I chose these canoeing challenges on purpose so I could move our team into 'maximum power', fastest paddling cadence mode to satisfy my speed / competitive needs! Often I'd be shouting: "Faster, faster, we are only just going to make it" I was always impressed by the power the two us paddling at full speed were able to produce, but how long it was sustainable for, was something I didn't dare suggest or test...This wasn't what Imi signed up for! Sensing I needed to assist with motivation I'd call out the metres we still had to go before we were 'safely' across the counter flow and in our current of desire. Imi would always ask, what was that all about, and I guess I had to admit it was not a critical, or necessary excursion, rather an irresistible challenge to take a seemingly better inter island channel. Better, sometimes being faster flowing, but other times being more scenic, and even other times being more tranquil. These options providing decision freedom from the rigor of racing where the search is only for the quickest route, being the fastest flowing, most direct channel. The river is fascinating in that its size makes for complexity of flow patterns that often defy the flow rules of lesser size rivers.
One of the truly dominant bluffs, that will forever remain in charge of the Yukon's course is the very impressive, probably 800m high Eagle's Nest Bluff, which we passed yesterday. A huge piece of impressive, light grey granite like rock, scarred with orange rock caves, with a singularly huge cave right below its peak....Maybe the home of the eagles! Interestingly, I saw only my second bald eagle of this trip, perched in a tree at river level just below the cave. Running down from this apex cave almost to river level was a narrow gorge, packed with spruce completing this vibrant grey, orange, and green piece of nature's special artwork.
Twice we were surprised by the 'plop' and large splash of a sizeable fish jumping out of the water quite near us, but both times we were too late to see what it was.
Generally though I have been disappointed in the amount of wildlife, the best being the water birds.
On approaching Carmacks, we encountered our first signs of present civilisation in the form of sporadic hill billy housing next to the river, and a fisherman, standing knee deep on the side of the river bank. The map wasn't 100% clear on which side of the river the town of Carmacks was and so I decided to pass close buy this guy and ask him. After a brief exchange about his lack of fishing success, he told us confidently that Carmacks was on the right river bank. This confirmed what Imi's 30 year memory bank recalled, so this set our approach and campsite selection. The river is so wide and fast flowing that correcting a wrong approach choice, would see one missing Carmacks and beaching somewhere undesirable downstream.
On landing at our campsite, and walking to the office, lo and behold we bumped into our fisherman, who has turned out to be our cabin neighbour. Small world, in a real small world, but it was to get even smaller..... His name is Don, and on establishing I was South African and clearly making some assumptions about Imi, when we asked him where he came from, he started by describing Canada, and laboriously 'taking us' to North West Territory, say he lives 'there'. Surprising him I said I have spent a lot of time in Yellowknife, in NWT, he then, still not expecting me to know where it was, said he was from Hay River. Well when training for the North Pole, I used to ski from Yellowknife across Great Slave Lake to Hay River. Hmm, now this is a very small, difficult to access village that attracts a unique type of person...Don! We shared a few stories about the area, and he then wanted to know about our canoe trip and how we had managed the UPSTREAM paddle from Whitehorse!! He seemed very surprised when we told him the river flowed the other way, North. A very nice, basic good bloke, as they say in Aussie, and we bade him a temporary good bye as we moved into our 'luxury' cabin, and then headed off on the 2km to explore 'town'.
An interesting walk past an Athabascan settlement, but then suddenly before we had hit town, the road connected to the huge steel bridge that crosses the Yukon, and the town isn't yet in sight.... It's on the other right bank, the one called the left one! Don must be upside down in his world, definitely not a good trait for a tour guide job! I guess he does come from Hay River!
Town was as expected of a town of around 600 people. Imi and I had a very memorable dinner at the Carmacks Hotel's, very rustic, and true to character, Gold Panner Restaurant. The dinner being memorable in our light hearted reflections of the journey so far, the observations of the rich characters in the restaurant, rather than the quality of the food, and the far from adequate service from our irritatingly, nervous and unapologetic German waitress. Not taking it all too seriously we truly, often breaking out in loud laughter, had a fun evening. I sense we both felt highly content and hugely satisfied with how the adventure had so far panned out, and how our friendship had progressed.
Imi has been getting to appreciate the role of this blog in our adventure, and after a few days of thinking through how he would like to contribute directly, today he brings you what will be a regular contribution: (Below I have typed exactly the words he dictated to me)
Imi's Wondering as a Wanderer:
Today's Reflection:
The Fullness of Living and the Presence of Danger
"Yes, I felt the fullness of the present, the pregnant, throbbing present, as I experienced the wind and the waves, the vastness of the ever fresh nature. The kind of fear we experience in cities bars us from experiencing the fullness of the living present. In cities, requirements and conditions have to be met, goals achieved, and expectations fulfilled, for securing even our basic needs. In nature I can experience its glorious-ness now. The fear that we may not come up with what is required for us to succeed, demoralizes humans in cities, but vast wilderness is also scary. This fear somehow does not paralyze. Rapids, freezing rivers, lurking bears, and hurricane winds are a constant threat in the wilderness. No preparation can provide adequate defenses against these, but this fear is a spur, whose overcoming, empowers and is the source of personal triumph. The consciousness of our helplessness in the presence of this vast cosmos only adds to the fullness of the present. "
Back to our canoe trip:
We will spend another night in our cabin, then head off tomorrow, with the first day going to present us with our biggest white water rapid challenge: Five Fingers rapids, where an error in theory could be fatal, but more likely adventure ending with the loss of the canoe, something I, and a few of you readers would have had the misfortune of experiencing in the past! This won't happen this time!
More from Carmacks, including a few rare and collector potential blog photos, tomorrow...!
Be good
H + I
We reached the town of Carmacks at around 3pm, well the main campsite, invitingly named, Coal Mine campground, about a two kilometre walk to Carmacks. A really canoe friendly place, right on the river, and with just one vacant cabin left to rent, it seemed to be made for us. It wasn't that easy a decision though, so we grabbed a cuppa coffee, two delicious cinnamon rolls and thought through our options testing them against the original overall adventure mission. Would two nights in a cosy cabin versus tenting detract from our experience, and our sense of personal triumph. Was this a copout we would later regret. Imi has this powerful concept that we need a personal 'struggle' (challenge) and that the sense of personal triumph we get from overcoming the challenge gives us 'personal height', and the main goal in life is to increase one's personal height. Very importantly this height is within and is not relative to others. So....
We both agreed the cabin option was right in line with our adventure goal, acknowledging it would reduce our level personal struggle, but would enhance our overall experience by providing us with two relaxing days immersed in the Carmacks and campsite community.
The deal was done, and so last night saw us going to bed on normal beds with fresh clean sheets and a mosquito free environment. As fate has it, by the late afternoon the clouds had moved off, replaced by blue sky and a delightful sunshine, so the roof over our heads never got the chance to bring back thoughts of the challenges of all too familiar pitter patter of our tent days.
A bit about yesterday's canoeing on the river:
For those that are following our adventure on Google earth, you will see the tortuous path the Yukon takes. Even with its power and size, the mountainous terrain mostly dominates, forcing the river around its many bluffs, and ranges. Often the river has a small win breaking through less robust land areas forming islands that provide evidence of the ongoing battle of nature. Yesterday's river section was prominent in both the plethora of islands we encountered and the impressive bluffs. The islands providing us with route choices that often saw us virtually having to paddle up stream to reach our chosen channel. I think Imi thought I chose these canoeing challenges on purpose so I could move our team into 'maximum power', fastest paddling cadence mode to satisfy my speed / competitive needs! Often I'd be shouting: "Faster, faster, we are only just going to make it" I was always impressed by the power the two us paddling at full speed were able to produce, but how long it was sustainable for, was something I didn't dare suggest or test...This wasn't what Imi signed up for! Sensing I needed to assist with motivation I'd call out the metres we still had to go before we were 'safely' across the counter flow and in our current of desire. Imi would always ask, what was that all about, and I guess I had to admit it was not a critical, or necessary excursion, rather an irresistible challenge to take a seemingly better inter island channel. Better, sometimes being faster flowing, but other times being more scenic, and even other times being more tranquil. These options providing decision freedom from the rigor of racing where the search is only for the quickest route, being the fastest flowing, most direct channel. The river is fascinating in that its size makes for complexity of flow patterns that often defy the flow rules of lesser size rivers.
One of the truly dominant bluffs, that will forever remain in charge of the Yukon's course is the very impressive, probably 800m high Eagle's Nest Bluff, which we passed yesterday. A huge piece of impressive, light grey granite like rock, scarred with orange rock caves, with a singularly huge cave right below its peak....Maybe the home of the eagles! Interestingly, I saw only my second bald eagle of this trip, perched in a tree at river level just below the cave. Running down from this apex cave almost to river level was a narrow gorge, packed with spruce completing this vibrant grey, orange, and green piece of nature's special artwork.
Twice we were surprised by the 'plop' and large splash of a sizeable fish jumping out of the water quite near us, but both times we were too late to see what it was.
Generally though I have been disappointed in the amount of wildlife, the best being the water birds.
On approaching Carmacks, we encountered our first signs of present civilisation in the form of sporadic hill billy housing next to the river, and a fisherman, standing knee deep on the side of the river bank. The map wasn't 100% clear on which side of the river the town of Carmacks was and so I decided to pass close buy this guy and ask him. After a brief exchange about his lack of fishing success, he told us confidently that Carmacks was on the right river bank. This confirmed what Imi's 30 year memory bank recalled, so this set our approach and campsite selection. The river is so wide and fast flowing that correcting a wrong approach choice, would see one missing Carmacks and beaching somewhere undesirable downstream.
On landing at our campsite, and walking to the office, lo and behold we bumped into our fisherman, who has turned out to be our cabin neighbour. Small world, in a real small world, but it was to get even smaller..... His name is Don, and on establishing I was South African and clearly making some assumptions about Imi, when we asked him where he came from, he started by describing Canada, and laboriously 'taking us' to North West Territory, say he lives 'there'. Surprising him I said I have spent a lot of time in Yellowknife, in NWT, he then, still not expecting me to know where it was, said he was from Hay River. Well when training for the North Pole, I used to ski from Yellowknife across Great Slave Lake to Hay River. Hmm, now this is a very small, difficult to access village that attracts a unique type of person...Don! We shared a few stories about the area, and he then wanted to know about our canoe trip and how we had managed the UPSTREAM paddle from Whitehorse!! He seemed very surprised when we told him the river flowed the other way, North. A very nice, basic good bloke, as they say in Aussie, and we bade him a temporary good bye as we moved into our 'luxury' cabin, and then headed off on the 2km to explore 'town'.
An interesting walk past an Athabascan settlement, but then suddenly before we had hit town, the road connected to the huge steel bridge that crosses the Yukon, and the town isn't yet in sight.... It's on the other right bank, the one called the left one! Don must be upside down in his world, definitely not a good trait for a tour guide job! I guess he does come from Hay River!
Town was as expected of a town of around 600 people. Imi and I had a very memorable dinner at the Carmacks Hotel's, very rustic, and true to character, Gold Panner Restaurant. The dinner being memorable in our light hearted reflections of the journey so far, the observations of the rich characters in the restaurant, rather than the quality of the food, and the far from adequate service from our irritatingly, nervous and unapologetic German waitress. Not taking it all too seriously we truly, often breaking out in loud laughter, had a fun evening. I sense we both felt highly content and hugely satisfied with how the adventure had so far panned out, and how our friendship had progressed.
Imi has been getting to appreciate the role of this blog in our adventure, and after a few days of thinking through how he would like to contribute directly, today he brings you what will be a regular contribution: (Below I have typed exactly the words he dictated to me)
Imi's Wondering as a Wanderer:
Today's Reflection:
The Fullness of Living and the Presence of Danger
"Yes, I felt the fullness of the present, the pregnant, throbbing present, as I experienced the wind and the waves, the vastness of the ever fresh nature. The kind of fear we experience in cities bars us from experiencing the fullness of the living present. In cities, requirements and conditions have to be met, goals achieved, and expectations fulfilled, for securing even our basic needs. In nature I can experience its glorious-ness now. The fear that we may not come up with what is required for us to succeed, demoralizes humans in cities, but vast wilderness is also scary. This fear somehow does not paralyze. Rapids, freezing rivers, lurking bears, and hurricane winds are a constant threat in the wilderness. No preparation can provide adequate defenses against these, but this fear is a spur, whose overcoming, empowers and is the source of personal triumph. The consciousness of our helplessness in the presence of this vast cosmos only adds to the fullness of the present. "
Back to our canoe trip:
We will spend another night in our cabin, then head off tomorrow, with the first day going to present us with our biggest white water rapid challenge: Five Fingers rapids, where an error in theory could be fatal, but more likely adventure ending with the loss of the canoe, something I, and a few of you readers would have had the misfortune of experiencing in the past! This won't happen this time!
More from Carmacks, including a few rare and collector potential blog photos, tomorrow...!
Be good
H + I
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Day 5: A Big Day…
It's 5h30 on the start of Day 6, the all too familiar pitter patter of rain on the tent roof, but today quite a bit is different:
We are camped out on a small island, maybe 400 metres long and 50 metres wide. It has impenetrable dense bush all over it other than 10 metres right at the downstream northern tip. That's where we are. The Yukon is rushing by with a therapeutic gurgle on the one side of our cape, and a much more gentle flow down the other side meets almost where Imi's tent ends. My tent is almost backed on to his, and we have less than 10cm of freeboard, before rising waters would make our campsite no more. Why camp there you may ask..? Firstly, this section of the river has either very steep and high earthen banks, or thick forest right down to the water’s edge, so is not suitable for camping, but secondly this is a very special spot.
The other difference with today is being so close to Imi's tent, I was treated to a night of snoring (and more!) entertainment! All good boys stuff, reminding me of my sailing days, with some of you snorers from those days reading this blog!
Yesterday was a great day from a progress and river appreciation perspective. We covered more than 80 river kilometres, spending 10 hours out there including a few breaks. The one break being quite a bit longer as the others as Imi and I engaged in a fairly emotional debate about my favourite subject, Risk, and how the lack of understanding of Risk was the real cause of the financial crisis. It is really great having these discussions on such a wide range of subjects and at a philosophical level. Often the debate is taken down to our real situation on the river to make a point, which sometimes adds a dose of sobriety!
The river has really expanded in width often being close to a kilometre wide. One really gets the sense of its immense power, and regional significance.
The paddling day was cool and overcast, and mostly free of rain, but true to form on setting up camp it began to rain, making for a short dinner and straight into our tents. Interestingly we saw an abandoned canoe wreck on the side of the river, both of us wondering how that could have happened, but a reminder of the fact that we are on an adventure.
We are paddling well together, now that I have capitulated to Imi's Zen based, time is not an issue, pace. We had a long discussion about paddling cadence and what sets our paddling pace. A discussion I have had with Ruth (another Zen adventurer) on our joint adventures many times before, so am well versed with the arguments. Eventually we agreed that Imi's cadence (strokes per minute) is the sustainable pace for him, and so that is the team pace. In exchange he offered to give me free Zen classes!! I did remind him that without the non Zen vision and planning of this trip we wouldn't be on the Yukon! I think I almost have him adopting some 'Life as a series of Adventures' approaches!
Interestingly on the trip so far, we have been so engaged in discussion that we have had very little time 'in the zone' in our own worlds as normally happens on solo pursuits, but both agree that the second half should deliver more of that. Our discussion time has built a huge level of openness and trust in each other and we both feel we have the basis for a truly deep friendship, which is very special.
By the end of today we should be in the town of Carmacks, the halfway point, and some 60 kilometres from here.
Today's insight into Imi's blind world brings a sad perspective but one which we have now made a source of light heartedness. With me doing most of the campsite work on the adventure, and necessarily helping him when he or the team needs it, he is accepting and almost overly thankful. For example, when I ask him whether he wants tea or coffee, it used to be, "Oh only if you are making, and then whatever you are making". I can see the situation from his perspective, how he feels he is burdening me, and with work load so unevenly split, how can he ask for something that needs more work. The thank you’s beyond the norm confirmed the same feeling of burden, and so early on we discussed this. I asked him if it was the way I was behaving that made him feel like that, or was it just the dependency factor that made him feel uncomfortable. He confirmed it was only the latter and I told him how I didn't see it like that and my extra load was part of my personal challenge on this adventure, and him having a great experience my goal. To help the situation and get him to almost demand what he wants we now use the five star hotel analogy. He is the five star hotel guest and me a variety of service providers working for the hotel. Every time he 'over thanks' me I say: "Sir, remember you are a guest of this 5 star hotel, it's my pleasure to help you, and I don't expect thanks" on the team and coffee issue, I say, "Sir, as a valued guest to our five star hotel you can have whatever you want, whenever you want, so what would you like. The analogy works well, often is the source of much laughter, really helping the essentially sad feeling of a 2nd class citizen. As I said to Imi, I can see how hard it must be accepting all the time, and my personality would struggle a huge amount, so I know it's not easy even as a five star hotel customer. To help I also explain to him how much he is giving me, and so although it may not be obvious, all is in balance.
With the pitter patter unabated I will now sign off and deal with the preparation of breakfast in the drizzle and then packing up a wet tent, before we get to the peace of being out on the river again. It’s strange how one gets to a point of not just acceptance but enjoying being in the rain outdoors. Cycling in Patagonia made me appreciate this seemingly bizarre experience.
Take care
H + I
We are camped out on a small island, maybe 400 metres long and 50 metres wide. It has impenetrable dense bush all over it other than 10 metres right at the downstream northern tip. That's where we are. The Yukon is rushing by with a therapeutic gurgle on the one side of our cape, and a much more gentle flow down the other side meets almost where Imi's tent ends. My tent is almost backed on to his, and we have less than 10cm of freeboard, before rising waters would make our campsite no more. Why camp there you may ask..? Firstly, this section of the river has either very steep and high earthen banks, or thick forest right down to the water’s edge, so is not suitable for camping, but secondly this is a very special spot.
The other difference with today is being so close to Imi's tent, I was treated to a night of snoring (and more!) entertainment! All good boys stuff, reminding me of my sailing days, with some of you snorers from those days reading this blog!
Yesterday was a great day from a progress and river appreciation perspective. We covered more than 80 river kilometres, spending 10 hours out there including a few breaks. The one break being quite a bit longer as the others as Imi and I engaged in a fairly emotional debate about my favourite subject, Risk, and how the lack of understanding of Risk was the real cause of the financial crisis. It is really great having these discussions on such a wide range of subjects and at a philosophical level. Often the debate is taken down to our real situation on the river to make a point, which sometimes adds a dose of sobriety!
The river has really expanded in width often being close to a kilometre wide. One really gets the sense of its immense power, and regional significance.
The paddling day was cool and overcast, and mostly free of rain, but true to form on setting up camp it began to rain, making for a short dinner and straight into our tents. Interestingly we saw an abandoned canoe wreck on the side of the river, both of us wondering how that could have happened, but a reminder of the fact that we are on an adventure.
We are paddling well together, now that I have capitulated to Imi's Zen based, time is not an issue, pace. We had a long discussion about paddling cadence and what sets our paddling pace. A discussion I have had with Ruth (another Zen adventurer) on our joint adventures many times before, so am well versed with the arguments. Eventually we agreed that Imi's cadence (strokes per minute) is the sustainable pace for him, and so that is the team pace. In exchange he offered to give me free Zen classes!! I did remind him that without the non Zen vision and planning of this trip we wouldn't be on the Yukon! I think I almost have him adopting some 'Life as a series of Adventures' approaches!
Interestingly on the trip so far, we have been so engaged in discussion that we have had very little time 'in the zone' in our own worlds as normally happens on solo pursuits, but both agree that the second half should deliver more of that. Our discussion time has built a huge level of openness and trust in each other and we both feel we have the basis for a truly deep friendship, which is very special.
By the end of today we should be in the town of Carmacks, the halfway point, and some 60 kilometres from here.
Today's insight into Imi's blind world brings a sad perspective but one which we have now made a source of light heartedness. With me doing most of the campsite work on the adventure, and necessarily helping him when he or the team needs it, he is accepting and almost overly thankful. For example, when I ask him whether he wants tea or coffee, it used to be, "Oh only if you are making, and then whatever you are making". I can see the situation from his perspective, how he feels he is burdening me, and with work load so unevenly split, how can he ask for something that needs more work. The thank you’s beyond the norm confirmed the same feeling of burden, and so early on we discussed this. I asked him if it was the way I was behaving that made him feel like that, or was it just the dependency factor that made him feel uncomfortable. He confirmed it was only the latter and I told him how I didn't see it like that and my extra load was part of my personal challenge on this adventure, and him having a great experience my goal. To help the situation and get him to almost demand what he wants we now use the five star hotel analogy. He is the five star hotel guest and me a variety of service providers working for the hotel. Every time he 'over thanks' me I say: "Sir, remember you are a guest of this 5 star hotel, it's my pleasure to help you, and I don't expect thanks" on the team and coffee issue, I say, "Sir, as a valued guest to our five star hotel you can have whatever you want, whenever you want, so what would you like. The analogy works well, often is the source of much laughter, really helping the essentially sad feeling of a 2nd class citizen. As I said to Imi, I can see how hard it must be accepting all the time, and my personality would struggle a huge amount, so I know it's not easy even as a five star hotel customer. To help I also explain to him how much he is giving me, and so although it may not be obvious, all is in balance.
With the pitter patter unabated I will now sign off and deal with the preparation of breakfast in the drizzle and then packing up a wet tent, before we get to the peace of being out on the river again. It’s strange how one gets to a point of not just acceptance but enjoying being in the rain outdoors. Cycling in Patagonia made me appreciate this seemingly bizarre experience.
Take care
H + I
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Day 4: Four Seasons in One Day
Yesterday we covered a good 60 river kilometres, spending six and a half hours out there in very varied river and weather conditions. Most of the day on the river we were in light rain, and cold conditions, that made it quite challenging. We stopped for a very pleasant lunch at a deserted cabin, still around from the early 1900's mining days. This was right at the confluence with the sizeable Teslin River. Being a bit wet from the constant rain on the river, we were both pretty cold as we climbed back into the canoe to paddle a river that was now twice the size, in volume of water. Within half an hour of paddling we were back up to temperature and full of the joys of being out in this special wilderness.
Further evidence of the old mining days, was the just exposed deck of SS Klondike, a larger steamer that ran aground and sunk in 1936. It was quite special paddling close by. In fact in trying to get too close to it we had a close shave that required us to paddle at a new record rate for a few minutes to avoid us being pushed onto the wreck...all good fun, and helped warm us up!
I saw a beaver in the river, my first bald eagle, majestically perched on the top of a tree at the river edge. Lots of ducks as usual, and a lovely pair of Canadian geese with their weeks old chick.
We decided to overnight on this largish island, which attracted us for its lack of mosquitoes, and great beach camp spot. What a great place it turned out to be, probably also helped by the wonderful change in weather. The sun came out strongly, rare blue sky appeared, and when we went to bed at 11pm our tents were like saunas inside, and thankfully all our gear dry. After the usual richly diverse conversation, spirits were very high, and Imi was talking about how nice it's going to be 'tomorrow'. Having had a wild weather Yukon experience on my 2008 bicycle adventure, and in my 'pessimistic realist' approach, I added: "Don't leave any dry stuff outside, one never knows here, it could rain in the night". Hmmm, around 3 am the pitter patter on my tent roof started, and here I sit 630am and it’s still raining lightly. This is life in the Yukon, one never knows, and should expect to deal with all the seasons, all the time.
I walked around our island and was quite surprised to find fairly new moose and bear tracks, and one dead squirrel!
Amazed at Imi's genuine love and deep appreciation of the outdoors, I was curious to know how, as a person without sight, he experiences this Yukon wilderness, so around the fire last night I asked him.
It became clear, and he agreed that his past sighted visit here helps him a lot experience the environment. The visions and experiences of the past and his sightless, yet rich sensory experience of today, form what he calls a seamless, combined holistic experience that would seem to verge on that of a sighted first time visitor. As he spoke I became clear there was more to it though. Fascinatingly, he said with the sound, smell and 'feel', he can sense the vastness of this wilderness, going on to say that this vastness is a cumulative thing. Each day on the river expands his feeling of vastness, and by day 5 or 6 he expects this feeling to have reached its plateau which represents the true wilderness immensity of the Yukon. I could relate totally to this, and as many would know, it's hard to describe the feeling of the REAL big, wide open outdoors. In the day to day specifics there is little of true and specific specialness, but in their collective there is something truly awesome.
I feel I am falling short in not publishing photos on the blog, but somehow a few photos would devalue the portrayal of this experience of vastness, and remoteness one feels out here. I have experienced this many times before, but this is really the first time on a river, a river of such expansive vastness.
Imi goes on to explain that being out here for him gives him a feeling of antichronism, a feeling where not only time doesn't matter, but a feeling so opposite to normal busy life where often time is central to each day's rush and sometimes drudgery. This situation in the wilderness is such a rarity, that it oddly feels a luxury.
He goes on to explain that in normal city life, blind people lack mobility, and as such find it hard to escape the sounds and busy-ness of suburban life, their choice of environment is very restricted and dependant on others, but out here one is in that escape environment virtually all the time, and there is peace. The ability to move on one’s own in the peace of the outdoors is very special. The sounds and rhythms of the eternity of nature and the outdoors, the wind, waves, flowing water, call of the ducks, etc gives him a sense of exhilaration that takes him away from the exact opposite, contrast superficiality of the ever changing, busy city world.
Finally, sadly he says being in the great outdoors, makes him feel less alienated. Adding that blind people are shut off from much of normal, and often feel like strangers in their own communities, but out here he feels a real oneness with nature, and a huge degree of at home-ness that he never does in his home town...
Following on this theme, in the hours paddling in the rain yesterday, I thought about the canoe race that will start from Whitehorse on the 29th June and finish at Dawson City, taking the same course we are doing. Imi and I have had many debates about competition, belonging, people's motives, and in the past I have competed in many similar events. I honestly concluded that for me I must either compete seriously in the race, or do what I am doing with Imi or alone. My desire to compete has waned as I concluded that competition requires others to reference one’s happiness or triumph, and as such has the potential to be imprisoning or hollow, the real personal triumph for me is dealing with my fears and the aloneness of myself or maybe just one other, eg with Imi. Doing something so special like these 75
kms of the Yukon is not a social event for me, it's as Imi portrayed, a deep spiritual experience only possible without the clutter of others. Anyway, I have moved a long way from those old days, but I can truly see for me the personal value in being able to be at one with oneself in the vastness of the REAL big outdoors like the Yukon.
The rain has now stopped, time for me to cook breakfast, and then we will head out for probably a 7-8 hour day on the river.
Till tomorrow.....Bye!
Further evidence of the old mining days, was the just exposed deck of SS Klondike, a larger steamer that ran aground and sunk in 1936. It was quite special paddling close by. In fact in trying to get too close to it we had a close shave that required us to paddle at a new record rate for a few minutes to avoid us being pushed onto the wreck...all good fun, and helped warm us up!
I saw a beaver in the river, my first bald eagle, majestically perched on the top of a tree at the river edge. Lots of ducks as usual, and a lovely pair of Canadian geese with their weeks old chick.
We decided to overnight on this largish island, which attracted us for its lack of mosquitoes, and great beach camp spot. What a great place it turned out to be, probably also helped by the wonderful change in weather. The sun came out strongly, rare blue sky appeared, and when we went to bed at 11pm our tents were like saunas inside, and thankfully all our gear dry. After the usual richly diverse conversation, spirits were very high, and Imi was talking about how nice it's going to be 'tomorrow'. Having had a wild weather Yukon experience on my 2008 bicycle adventure, and in my 'pessimistic realist' approach, I added: "Don't leave any dry stuff outside, one never knows here, it could rain in the night". Hmmm, around 3 am the pitter patter on my tent roof started, and here I sit 630am and it’s still raining lightly. This is life in the Yukon, one never knows, and should expect to deal with all the seasons, all the time.
I walked around our island and was quite surprised to find fairly new moose and bear tracks, and one dead squirrel!
Amazed at Imi's genuine love and deep appreciation of the outdoors, I was curious to know how, as a person without sight, he experiences this Yukon wilderness, so around the fire last night I asked him.
It became clear, and he agreed that his past sighted visit here helps him a lot experience the environment. The visions and experiences of the past and his sightless, yet rich sensory experience of today, form what he calls a seamless, combined holistic experience that would seem to verge on that of a sighted first time visitor. As he spoke I became clear there was more to it though. Fascinatingly, he said with the sound, smell and 'feel', he can sense the vastness of this wilderness, going on to say that this vastness is a cumulative thing. Each day on the river expands his feeling of vastness, and by day 5 or 6 he expects this feeling to have reached its plateau which represents the true wilderness immensity of the Yukon. I could relate totally to this, and as many would know, it's hard to describe the feeling of the REAL big, wide open outdoors. In the day to day specifics there is little of true and specific specialness, but in their collective there is something truly awesome.
I feel I am falling short in not publishing photos on the blog, but somehow a few photos would devalue the portrayal of this experience of vastness, and remoteness one feels out here. I have experienced this many times before, but this is really the first time on a river, a river of such expansive vastness.
Imi goes on to explain that being out here for him gives him a feeling of antichronism, a feeling where not only time doesn't matter, but a feeling so opposite to normal busy life where often time is central to each day's rush and sometimes drudgery. This situation in the wilderness is such a rarity, that it oddly feels a luxury.
He goes on to explain that in normal city life, blind people lack mobility, and as such find it hard to escape the sounds and busy-ness of suburban life, their choice of environment is very restricted and dependant on others, but out here one is in that escape environment virtually all the time, and there is peace. The ability to move on one’s own in the peace of the outdoors is very special. The sounds and rhythms of the eternity of nature and the outdoors, the wind, waves, flowing water, call of the ducks, etc gives him a sense of exhilaration that takes him away from the exact opposite, contrast superficiality of the ever changing, busy city world.
Finally, sadly he says being in the great outdoors, makes him feel less alienated. Adding that blind people are shut off from much of normal, and often feel like strangers in their own communities, but out here he feels a real oneness with nature, and a huge degree of at home-ness that he never does in his home town...
Following on this theme, in the hours paddling in the rain yesterday, I thought about the canoe race that will start from Whitehorse on the 29th June and finish at Dawson City, taking the same course we are doing. Imi and I have had many debates about competition, belonging, people's motives, and in the past I have competed in many similar events. I honestly concluded that for me I must either compete seriously in the race, or do what I am doing with Imi or alone. My desire to compete has waned as I concluded that competition requires others to reference one’s happiness or triumph, and as such has the potential to be imprisoning or hollow, the real personal triumph for me is dealing with my fears and the aloneness of myself or maybe just one other, eg with Imi. Doing something so special like these 75
kms of the Yukon is not a social event for me, it's as Imi portrayed, a deep spiritual experience only possible without the clutter of others. Anyway, I have moved a long way from those old days, but I can truly see for me the personal value in being able to be at one with oneself in the vastness of the REAL big outdoors like the Yukon.
The rain has now stopped, time for me to cook breakfast, and then we will head out for probably a 7-8 hour day on the river.
Till tomorrow.....Bye!
Monday, June 20, 2011
Finally the Real Yukon…
After the cold and rainy start to day 3, by 10h30 there was a break in the clouds and we took the gap to excitedly set off on the short distance to connect to the start of the real river flowing out of Lake Lebarge. Being the morning dishwasher, Imi had suffered from cold hands, and so was warmly clothed, and I was dressed in full rain gear ready for a possible wet day ahead.
It was just great getting into the deep green flowing river, and with mostly steep, tree lined, earthen riverbanks either side, there was this wonderful sense of tunneled solitude. Progress was noticeably faster than the still lake, and the need for my 'J' stroke intervention less important as we drifted, sometimes lazily with the current.
U.S. Bend was fun as we stuck on the fast flowing outer course, bobbing in the gentle rapids. I saw a moose calf down at the river, but it took off before we were alongside it. I also saw quite a few varieties of duck, but generally I was hoping for more wildlife, definitely bald eagles, but just seagulls so far, and let's hope that the next days bring more viewings.
This 30 mile section is very beautiful in its riverbanks, forestation and green river, a beauty and associated solitude that is hard to convey in photos, but is so apparent from the seat of our moving canoe. It moves me, when every so often, Imi just shouts out: "I just love this!" He really does, it's just so fantastic to see how he feels the river and the special parts. He somehow knows when it's special. This '30 mile section' is special and so we decided to go slow and take two days enjoying it. We will pay later with long days soon to get our daily average back to what we need to complete in our plan, but today it felt good. We stopped at a beautiful small island, only to find it was owned by mosquitoes, huge, aggressive ones too. At least I wasn't bombed this time.
We found a wonderful campsite location, hidden in an aspen forest, just as the river splits around another, larger island. Tent building time produced our first major team camping challenge, and one I was anticipating, but had put off preparing for...Building Imi's architectural masterpiece, but engineering disaster in the rain. After a wonderful rain free paddle, the rain started half way into Imi's daily tent building challenge. I knew I should have practised building his complex tent, so I could shortcut the up time if there was rain, but just looking at the complex poles and structure, and seeing his solo resolve, made me delay it each day. Well today we got caught out: Rain teaming down, Imi clearly having one pole in the wrong sleeve, I stepped in 'subtly demanding' that we abort the erection and seek refuge in my, already erected two person tent until the rain stopped. I sensed Imi, initially felt he had had his favourite puzzle unfairly, taken away, but as I explained the rapidly deteriorating situation, and once inside my tent he agreed with the intervention. It rained pretty hard, for a couple of hours, resulting in us resorting to an unplanned luxury afternoon nap. We both awoke with the silence of no rain on the tent roof, and I was soon getting my overdue lesson in putting his tent together. Gee, I was impressed how he knew and felt his way around its corners and tent pole sleeves, but with three lots of three tent sleeve intersections to contend with, one, easy to make, wrong sleeve choice takes one down a frustrating insoluble puzzle that only becomes apparent with the last pole! Always determined, Imi is a model for patience and methodicalness, as long as it's not raining!
The rain has largely held off, and after yet another stimulating two hour philosophical debate we headed out for a walk in the wilds. With no path, and terrain vary from river boulders, to lake marsh, to aspen forest, Imi was in his element. He is a natural and his passion and love for being out in the wild is just so inspiring. He insists on walking without being connected to me, and is quite happy walking into the odd bush / tree for that freedom. I describe the terrain and scenery, and he just responds with: "I just love this". We passed some old bear scat, so maybe a viewing isn't far off. The area we walked with a few ponds and open grassland does seem to have potential for wild life viewings and so we will check it out again before we finally leave. We did practise bear safe procedures last night when setting up to go to bed...Just in case!
I sense the weather will remain challenging for the next few days, but with long days on the canoe and my Ruth's poncho a wonderful rain protector while paddling, I have no doubt we will find an unlikely, newly discovered, heaven out there on the Great River North.
Now to a more sobering subject: The day Imi, went blind!
Sitting around a roaring fire, next to the flowing river, me drinking a Yukon Jack, aptly named "The black sheep of the whisky family", and with a human toe, the other key component of 'Sour toe", Imi emotionally told me his scary and sobering story:
Being born with the genetic eye disease Retinitis Pigmentosa, he was destined to lose all or most of his sight sometime during his life. By early 2006 he was having periods of challenging vision, almost always associated with extended exposure to bright light, eg snow etc. These were always temporary situations, where his sight returned within hours of the end of the bright light exposure.
This evening in late March 2006 he was enjoying dinner out at a restaurant with a female friend. She was sitting in front of a bright light, and in desiring of staying connected to the conversation he was forced to deal with the back light. Starting to feel excruciating pain in his eyes, he couldn't continue the evening, and asked his friend to take him home, thinking this was another temporary situation just needing removal of his eyes from any form of light.
He got home, went straight to bed, thinking the morning would bring a return of his sight as usual. He tells me he did sense this pain was unusual, but he was in complete denial that it could be more serious. He woke at 6am to a sightless situation, but in the confusion and associated hallucinations he concluded he was having a bad dream, and now needed to go back to sleep.
He awoke again at 9am, and to the same sightless world, but this time he felt this feeling of "the deepest agony and being totally alone, and beyond help". He tried meditation, but it never helped. He thought of phoning the ambulance to take him to hospital, but his denial came back and he put his hope in more time. After a lonely and fearful 12 hours without talking to anyone, and moving between shock and denial, finally at 9pm that night he phoned the ambulance to take him to hospital in St Paul, Minnesota. There the ophthalmologist confirmed his worst fears: He had lost his sight forever. He says nothing can prepare one for this devastating news, and the state of mind that flows from it. In a matter of hours his whole life had changed dramatically forever.
He had deep pain within, but the source of the pain was not about his inability to read or teach as one would maybe think, it was this feeling of being crushed. He would now be seen as a handicapped person, and this was humiliating, as he would now depend on others for help. There was this feeling of despair, as he felt he had been relegated to the ranks of beggars.
Imi openly shared with me how he seriously contemplated suicide, even selecting in his mind the rope in his garage he would use to hang himself. It initially seemed better to die proudly, but three thoughts kicked in taking away from this lowest of low point:
Firstly, he said life is about feelings and pain, and in have this extreme pain he was extremely alive, and so dealing with it was to part of living, and somehow the spirit of life will give him something. Secondly, it was midterm at university and he had many students who had paid for his tuition, and he couldn't let them down. Thirdly, he couldn't disgrace his family by an act of cowardice.
In talking through all this with me, Imi was very strong and clear on his recall, but tears often streamed down his cheeks as he spoke. I repeatedly asked him if he wanted to continue and if he was happy blogging this, and each time he answered passionately "of course, I like this". Here is a man who has clearly conquered something few of us would ever understand, and with the 'darkness' behind him, was at peace sharing his pain of those days.
He went on to tell me that the hardest thing to deal with was his first day walking onto the campus with his white walking cane. He felt humiliated and being judged as now some lesser person.
In reflection he added:
"Humans are infinitely adaptable, managing the mind to not only tolerate disaster, but to even see positives within it. Each door that closes opens a new one"
For me listening to the story, and having now lived with Imi for three days, I was deeply affected by my virtual arrogance at taking my non-disabled position for granted, and relying on a fragile, no true basis sense of invincibility, as my antidote to experiencing his level of pain. Every hour I am painfully reminded of his restricted world, often disappointed at myself for not having put myself in his shoes and been more proactive in helping him have a better experience. All humbling yet valuable life learning and 'we' thought this was a river canoeing trip, hey!
Back to the river, the start of day 4 has brought an overcast cool morning, with some glimpses of sunlight, and we are hopeful for a long but pleasant day on the river.
We have only done some 70 kilometres of the more than 700, but today should see a big step change.
Off to cook breakfast...
Take care...
H + I
It was just great getting into the deep green flowing river, and with mostly steep, tree lined, earthen riverbanks either side, there was this wonderful sense of tunneled solitude. Progress was noticeably faster than the still lake, and the need for my 'J' stroke intervention less important as we drifted, sometimes lazily with the current.
U.S. Bend was fun as we stuck on the fast flowing outer course, bobbing in the gentle rapids. I saw a moose calf down at the river, but it took off before we were alongside it. I also saw quite a few varieties of duck, but generally I was hoping for more wildlife, definitely bald eagles, but just seagulls so far, and let's hope that the next days bring more viewings.
This 30 mile section is very beautiful in its riverbanks, forestation and green river, a beauty and associated solitude that is hard to convey in photos, but is so apparent from the seat of our moving canoe. It moves me, when every so often, Imi just shouts out: "I just love this!" He really does, it's just so fantastic to see how he feels the river and the special parts. He somehow knows when it's special. This '30 mile section' is special and so we decided to go slow and take two days enjoying it. We will pay later with long days soon to get our daily average back to what we need to complete in our plan, but today it felt good. We stopped at a beautiful small island, only to find it was owned by mosquitoes, huge, aggressive ones too. At least I wasn't bombed this time.
We found a wonderful campsite location, hidden in an aspen forest, just as the river splits around another, larger island. Tent building time produced our first major team camping challenge, and one I was anticipating, but had put off preparing for...Building Imi's architectural masterpiece, but engineering disaster in the rain. After a wonderful rain free paddle, the rain started half way into Imi's daily tent building challenge. I knew I should have practised building his complex tent, so I could shortcut the up time if there was rain, but just looking at the complex poles and structure, and seeing his solo resolve, made me delay it each day. Well today we got caught out: Rain teaming down, Imi clearly having one pole in the wrong sleeve, I stepped in 'subtly demanding' that we abort the erection and seek refuge in my, already erected two person tent until the rain stopped. I sensed Imi, initially felt he had had his favourite puzzle unfairly, taken away, but as I explained the rapidly deteriorating situation, and once inside my tent he agreed with the intervention. It rained pretty hard, for a couple of hours, resulting in us resorting to an unplanned luxury afternoon nap. We both awoke with the silence of no rain on the tent roof, and I was soon getting my overdue lesson in putting his tent together. Gee, I was impressed how he knew and felt his way around its corners and tent pole sleeves, but with three lots of three tent sleeve intersections to contend with, one, easy to make, wrong sleeve choice takes one down a frustrating insoluble puzzle that only becomes apparent with the last pole! Always determined, Imi is a model for patience and methodicalness, as long as it's not raining!
The rain has largely held off, and after yet another stimulating two hour philosophical debate we headed out for a walk in the wilds. With no path, and terrain vary from river boulders, to lake marsh, to aspen forest, Imi was in his element. He is a natural and his passion and love for being out in the wild is just so inspiring. He insists on walking without being connected to me, and is quite happy walking into the odd bush / tree for that freedom. I describe the terrain and scenery, and he just responds with: "I just love this". We passed some old bear scat, so maybe a viewing isn't far off. The area we walked with a few ponds and open grassland does seem to have potential for wild life viewings and so we will check it out again before we finally leave. We did practise bear safe procedures last night when setting up to go to bed...Just in case!
I sense the weather will remain challenging for the next few days, but with long days on the canoe and my Ruth's poncho a wonderful rain protector while paddling, I have no doubt we will find an unlikely, newly discovered, heaven out there on the Great River North.
Now to a more sobering subject: The day Imi, went blind!
Sitting around a roaring fire, next to the flowing river, me drinking a Yukon Jack, aptly named "The black sheep of the whisky family", and with a human toe, the other key component of 'Sour toe", Imi emotionally told me his scary and sobering story:
Being born with the genetic eye disease Retinitis Pigmentosa, he was destined to lose all or most of his sight sometime during his life. By early 2006 he was having periods of challenging vision, almost always associated with extended exposure to bright light, eg snow etc. These were always temporary situations, where his sight returned within hours of the end of the bright light exposure.
This evening in late March 2006 he was enjoying dinner out at a restaurant with a female friend. She was sitting in front of a bright light, and in desiring of staying connected to the conversation he was forced to deal with the back light. Starting to feel excruciating pain in his eyes, he couldn't continue the evening, and asked his friend to take him home, thinking this was another temporary situation just needing removal of his eyes from any form of light.
He got home, went straight to bed, thinking the morning would bring a return of his sight as usual. He tells me he did sense this pain was unusual, but he was in complete denial that it could be more serious. He woke at 6am to a sightless situation, but in the confusion and associated hallucinations he concluded he was having a bad dream, and now needed to go back to sleep.
He awoke again at 9am, and to the same sightless world, but this time he felt this feeling of "the deepest agony and being totally alone, and beyond help". He tried meditation, but it never helped. He thought of phoning the ambulance to take him to hospital, but his denial came back and he put his hope in more time. After a lonely and fearful 12 hours without talking to anyone, and moving between shock and denial, finally at 9pm that night he phoned the ambulance to take him to hospital in St Paul, Minnesota. There the ophthalmologist confirmed his worst fears: He had lost his sight forever. He says nothing can prepare one for this devastating news, and the state of mind that flows from it. In a matter of hours his whole life had changed dramatically forever.
He had deep pain within, but the source of the pain was not about his inability to read or teach as one would maybe think, it was this feeling of being crushed. He would now be seen as a handicapped person, and this was humiliating, as he would now depend on others for help. There was this feeling of despair, as he felt he had been relegated to the ranks of beggars.
Imi openly shared with me how he seriously contemplated suicide, even selecting in his mind the rope in his garage he would use to hang himself. It initially seemed better to die proudly, but three thoughts kicked in taking away from this lowest of low point:
Firstly, he said life is about feelings and pain, and in have this extreme pain he was extremely alive, and so dealing with it was to part of living, and somehow the spirit of life will give him something. Secondly, it was midterm at university and he had many students who had paid for his tuition, and he couldn't let them down. Thirdly, he couldn't disgrace his family by an act of cowardice.
In talking through all this with me, Imi was very strong and clear on his recall, but tears often streamed down his cheeks as he spoke. I repeatedly asked him if he wanted to continue and if he was happy blogging this, and each time he answered passionately "of course, I like this". Here is a man who has clearly conquered something few of us would ever understand, and with the 'darkness' behind him, was at peace sharing his pain of those days.
He went on to tell me that the hardest thing to deal with was his first day walking onto the campus with his white walking cane. He felt humiliated and being judged as now some lesser person.
In reflection he added:
"Humans are infinitely adaptable, managing the mind to not only tolerate disaster, but to even see positives within it. Each door that closes opens a new one"
For me listening to the story, and having now lived with Imi for three days, I was deeply affected by my virtual arrogance at taking my non-disabled position for granted, and relying on a fragile, no true basis sense of invincibility, as my antidote to experiencing his level of pain. Every hour I am painfully reminded of his restricted world, often disappointed at myself for not having put myself in his shoes and been more proactive in helping him have a better experience. All humbling yet valuable life learning and 'we' thought this was a river canoeing trip, hey!
Back to the river, the start of day 4 has brought an overcast cool morning, with some glimpses of sunlight, and we are hopeful for a long but pleasant day on the river.
We have only done some 70 kilometres of the more than 700, but today should see a big step change.
Off to cook breakfast...
Take care...
H + I
Sunday, June 19, 2011
What a Difference a Day Makes
A full day since I was writing yesterday's blog, and here I sit in my tent, the patter of rain on its roof a reminder that nature is largely in charge of our experience on this adventure.
The paddle yesterday was in very warm almost perfect conditions, and we took the direct route to the Yukon River outlet at the northwest end of the lake. This meant we crossed the lake; something not recommended because of the icy water, but on a day like yesterday, it was virtually without risk.
After almost two days of truly amazing solitude we did come across another group of canoeists right at the end of the day. We had planned to overnight at the start of the river proper (the end of the lake) and they fortunately carried on, returning us to our heavenly state of solitude.
For all those dealing with the short southern hemisphere winter days, it's almost 24 hour days here. After a wonderful deep crimson red sunset, and dusk that lasted through to midnight, a huge wind came through around 2 am, needing me to go outside and make sure the canoe was out of reach of the sizeable waves that were developing. The rain followed shortly, and soon I felt very snug inside my sleeping bag, head on my wonderful soft, 'I love Canada' pillowcase made by Balese my special friend from Ethiopia, who was part of the Brooks Junior High School I visited last week. (thank you Balese!) The noise of the crashing waves completing that real outdoor adventure specialness.
Our campsite is right at the river outlet, and the, soon to be experienced, current is a pleasure to watch as it flows past the last bit of lake bank. There is a small island just off our lake bank, and I paddled across on my own to explore the rowdy seagull colony. Well if I thought it was rowdy from our campsite, as I beached the canoe, war was declared, with all available sea gulls called to air to defend their sea gull land. The reason was the presence of many couple week old chicks, and the noise and air attack was impressive. The star fighter pilot finally won, the perfect dive bomb, dropping a huge, slimy turd all over my shirt, and sealing my decision to retreat!
The day paddling although short in distance was a bit tough mentally, as the sore muscles from the day before and our route far from the lake shore created the optical illusion (only for me!) of us making very poor progress. Imi confirmed that due to his lack of visual reference points, he didn't struggle at all, and felt we had gone at the same pace as the day before. He also reflected on how much easy the mental side was versus the 1st time he paddled Lake Lebarge. Maybe competing blindfolded in endurance events is the key to new personal bests!
The day started with a challenging experience for Imi. We had agreed that on day 2, he would have a chance to take the back seat and see if he would be able to steer a straight course, with minimal intervention from me. Having paddled solo many times, and desiring of the confirmation that his loss of sight hadn't taken away his ability to steer the boat, I could sense how important this 1st ever trial would be for Imi. Sensing it would probably be impossible, I delayed the trial to Day 2, using Day 1 to try and get him to assimilate steering by telling me when he thought I was off course. He made me feel hopeful, when he told me he could just make out the shape of the mountain skyline as it ran parallel to the lake shore, but knowing the need to constantly make small course corrections, I felt he had an impossible task ahead. Who was I to judge and with his huge optimism, and my hope that somehow a sixth human sense would present itself, we agreed that he would start Day 2 in the back seat. I really wanted this to work, and reconciled myself to foregoing trip progress in favour of spending the time and patience to help him achieve what in my view would be a truly remarkable human achievement. His optimism and determination were amazing.
The hour that followed with him in charge was both filled with huge moments of hope, jubilation, but also despair and disappointment. We tried everything, and there were times where we went straight for a couple of hundred metres with his obvious feel and control, without my intervention but this was inevitably followed by a patch of tortuous way off course wandering. We didn't give up, with time not an issue on the day, I encouraged him to persist, not worrying about me or how I felt. I watched on desperate for some new inspiration or innovative technique, as Imi started dealing with the reality that he was on a hugely disappointing impossible mission. He finally accepted the reality, suggesting we beach the canoe and swap positions. I sensed we had both lost something, Imi's loss much greater, and I attempted to console him by adding that he could use the day ahead to try and work out what he could do better, and then we would try again another day.
Last night around the fire he shared with me how devastating the reality of this experience had been. He said humans, and particularly disabled ones, just want to find out new things they can do. Discovering what you can't do is such a blow and filled with helplessness and disappointment. Sobering stuff, and makes one feel obliged to use all the desire and commitment energy we have to conquer things where we have the faculty capability but sometimes lack the free to access willpower. Here was a man who had will power beyond most normal faculty people, but he was cut short by a faculty gap not of his own doing.
Half way across the lake, probably in our attempt to move things on, Imi asked me about my loss of sense smell, and how smell is probably our least critical sense. I mumbled along about the inconveniences, trying to elevate this sense loss closer to his one by talking about how my lack of sense of smell was 'quite' critical when sailing solo, with diesel, gas etc around, but the comparisons were embarrassingly irrelevant, and his point had been made. He then asked me whether I thought blindness or deafness was worse. He has clearly asked many this question, and with a seemingly high level of authority told me that generally women say deafness is the worse, and men say blindness. His conclusion being that women are bigger communicators and need to hear, while men need mobility to feel powerful, and blindness takes away mobility.... Oh well, let’s be thankful for all we have today.
The plan today is to do around half of the 1st 'thirty mile section' of the big river north. All my readings say that this thirty mile section is the best on the whole river, so we want to savour it, not getting carried away doing huge miles because of our new found help from the flowing river. The river will be quite narrow (50-100m) in this section, and flowing at 5-6 km/h. There is a very tortuous section that includes a bend called U.S. Bend, being a combination of a 'U' and 'S' bend. Should be fun....
Just hope the rain stops and things warm up again....
The next blog will have the story about the day Imi lost his sight forever....a very sobering one, but one full of lessons and inspiration for all of us....
H and I
The paddle yesterday was in very warm almost perfect conditions, and we took the direct route to the Yukon River outlet at the northwest end of the lake. This meant we crossed the lake; something not recommended because of the icy water, but on a day like yesterday, it was virtually without risk.
After almost two days of truly amazing solitude we did come across another group of canoeists right at the end of the day. We had planned to overnight at the start of the river proper (the end of the lake) and they fortunately carried on, returning us to our heavenly state of solitude.
For all those dealing with the short southern hemisphere winter days, it's almost 24 hour days here. After a wonderful deep crimson red sunset, and dusk that lasted through to midnight, a huge wind came through around 2 am, needing me to go outside and make sure the canoe was out of reach of the sizeable waves that were developing. The rain followed shortly, and soon I felt very snug inside my sleeping bag, head on my wonderful soft, 'I love Canada' pillowcase made by Balese my special friend from Ethiopia, who was part of the Brooks Junior High School I visited last week. (thank you Balese!) The noise of the crashing waves completing that real outdoor adventure specialness.
Our campsite is right at the river outlet, and the, soon to be experienced, current is a pleasure to watch as it flows past the last bit of lake bank. There is a small island just off our lake bank, and I paddled across on my own to explore the rowdy seagull colony. Well if I thought it was rowdy from our campsite, as I beached the canoe, war was declared, with all available sea gulls called to air to defend their sea gull land. The reason was the presence of many couple week old chicks, and the noise and air attack was impressive. The star fighter pilot finally won, the perfect dive bomb, dropping a huge, slimy turd all over my shirt, and sealing my decision to retreat!
The day paddling although short in distance was a bit tough mentally, as the sore muscles from the day before and our route far from the lake shore created the optical illusion (only for me!) of us making very poor progress. Imi confirmed that due to his lack of visual reference points, he didn't struggle at all, and felt we had gone at the same pace as the day before. He also reflected on how much easy the mental side was versus the 1st time he paddled Lake Lebarge. Maybe competing blindfolded in endurance events is the key to new personal bests!
The day started with a challenging experience for Imi. We had agreed that on day 2, he would have a chance to take the back seat and see if he would be able to steer a straight course, with minimal intervention from me. Having paddled solo many times, and desiring of the confirmation that his loss of sight hadn't taken away his ability to steer the boat, I could sense how important this 1st ever trial would be for Imi. Sensing it would probably be impossible, I delayed the trial to Day 2, using Day 1 to try and get him to assimilate steering by telling me when he thought I was off course. He made me feel hopeful, when he told me he could just make out the shape of the mountain skyline as it ran parallel to the lake shore, but knowing the need to constantly make small course corrections, I felt he had an impossible task ahead. Who was I to judge and with his huge optimism, and my hope that somehow a sixth human sense would present itself, we agreed that he would start Day 2 in the back seat. I really wanted this to work, and reconciled myself to foregoing trip progress in favour of spending the time and patience to help him achieve what in my view would be a truly remarkable human achievement. His optimism and determination were amazing.
The hour that followed with him in charge was both filled with huge moments of hope, jubilation, but also despair and disappointment. We tried everything, and there were times where we went straight for a couple of hundred metres with his obvious feel and control, without my intervention but this was inevitably followed by a patch of tortuous way off course wandering. We didn't give up, with time not an issue on the day, I encouraged him to persist, not worrying about me or how I felt. I watched on desperate for some new inspiration or innovative technique, as Imi started dealing with the reality that he was on a hugely disappointing impossible mission. He finally accepted the reality, suggesting we beach the canoe and swap positions. I sensed we had both lost something, Imi's loss much greater, and I attempted to console him by adding that he could use the day ahead to try and work out what he could do better, and then we would try again another day.
Last night around the fire he shared with me how devastating the reality of this experience had been. He said humans, and particularly disabled ones, just want to find out new things they can do. Discovering what you can't do is such a blow and filled with helplessness and disappointment. Sobering stuff, and makes one feel obliged to use all the desire and commitment energy we have to conquer things where we have the faculty capability but sometimes lack the free to access willpower. Here was a man who had will power beyond most normal faculty people, but he was cut short by a faculty gap not of his own doing.
Half way across the lake, probably in our attempt to move things on, Imi asked me about my loss of sense smell, and how smell is probably our least critical sense. I mumbled along about the inconveniences, trying to elevate this sense loss closer to his one by talking about how my lack of sense of smell was 'quite' critical when sailing solo, with diesel, gas etc around, but the comparisons were embarrassingly irrelevant, and his point had been made. He then asked me whether I thought blindness or deafness was worse. He has clearly asked many this question, and with a seemingly high level of authority told me that generally women say deafness is the worse, and men say blindness. His conclusion being that women are bigger communicators and need to hear, while men need mobility to feel powerful, and blindness takes away mobility.... Oh well, let’s be thankful for all we have today.
The plan today is to do around half of the 1st 'thirty mile section' of the big river north. All my readings say that this thirty mile section is the best on the whole river, so we want to savour it, not getting carried away doing huge miles because of our new found help from the flowing river. The river will be quite narrow (50-100m) in this section, and flowing at 5-6 km/h. There is a very tortuous section that includes a bend called U.S. Bend, being a combination of a 'U' and 'S' bend. Should be fun....
Just hope the rain stops and things warm up again....
The next blog will have the story about the day Imi lost his sight forever....a very sobering one, but one full of lessons and inspiration for all of us....
H and I
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