The Accident

Day 2 Tuesday 9/5/2025

With tents scattered wide and far, the morning seemed to roll out tentatively. Where should we be now? I typically get up at 4:00 AM and write in my journal under the light of my head lamp. And while thinking, I’m putting things away in one of the little bags carefully labeled but still able to elude me as to its content. I seem to have misplaced my toothbrush, paste, floss all together or separately at least once a day. While camping nightly over several weeks you develop your own routines—your rhythm of the road, or in this case rhythm of the river. What do I do next and at what time do I need to do it. This trip will challenge my idea of my rhythm because I almost never travel with a group.

First I need to know, the timing of the waking. Somewhere in the routine, we should learn the rules for pooping. Some time ago, my friend Laurie and I were setting up our tent on the JMT when a guy asked us “Where does a guy poop around here?” That is one of the questions. Here’s the answer for our situation: The Red Bag which I called the “Bag of Shame. It contained a garden trowel, lots of TP and hand sanitizer. I see it as the planchette of the Ouija Board. Push it in front of you and drop your head as you move. The way is cleared, and basically, you are guided to the right spot. And, if asked, the planchette will answer your ontological questions with a yes, no, or Goodbye.

At 9:00 AM I think we’re still maintaining a leisurely schedule, but it was just me. I was lagging. I had the farthest distance to my site. I arrived at the shore with my tent which turned out to be the last one stuffed in tent dry bag.

Painfully hooked on one of my shoulders was my Duluth-type dry bag. Garrett looked at it and suggested I might want to “clean it up a bit.” The bag would be snapped into a canoe along with the barrels and all the gear. Nothing would be left untethered, except the paddlers and paddles. If you dumped your canoe, the gear needed to stay with the canoe and you should also. Always remember, there is no way to give up and go home.

It was time to pair up in a canoe for the day and decide who will be stern and who will be in the bow for the day. Karen asked me to pair with her saying she wanted to know me. This made me feel comfortable and good.

I had only paddled once before on a river (the Yukon River) which had no rapids. Our group started on a Knee Lake, good sized lake but no comparison to Lake Laberge of the Yukon. This lake was infamous for being the stage for the cremation of Sam MaGee “the queerest they ever did see.” According to the 1907 Robert Service poem. Lake Laberge can make for a long paddle if you’re fighting a headwind and waves. When Terry and I crossed Lake Laberge we heard stories of many difficult passings many which left the paddlers wind and wave bound. These two ventures are very different. First, as remote as the Yukon may be, we saw plenty of paddlers. And a road passed near us everyday. That would not happen in this case.

As the day moved on, we picked up wind and waves. I wondered if this would shorten our day. We were on a tight schedule. Because if we didn’t make it to York Factory by the 14th we wouldn’t make our boat connection and might need to stay at York Factory for 4 more days.

We did land early but it was owing more to the 29K distance to the next camp than to the weather. As we were unloading, I walked over to the other side of the boat to help unload. As soon as I put my foot on the slick rock, I was down on my back landing on my tailbone. I took a little time getting up. But I like to assess the problem. I believed I’d be uncomfortable for a few days. I made sure I pitched my tent close in. it was a slow go affair. And I had wanted to go faster than last night. Unfortunately, the path up the hill had roots, rocks, and a sandy slide. I wondered if l’d have time to eat and indeed I had another delicious meal. But it was beautiful.

We shared the day with one another and no others.