Stand-up paddleboarding 50 Yukon lakes in a single season will take some good planning and a lot of luck. For me, the season was off to a slow and awkward start. After an early first paddle on Schwatka Lake, I tried to get a jump-start on the other 49.
Early attempts to stand-up paddleboard (SUP) came with some typical Yukon challenges. I was blocked by ice and pelted with blowing snow and hail. I was blown off a lake, after only 15 minutes, by sudden gusts and high winds. One launch was delayed during a wildland fire-management training session, with its helicopter continuously dropping its water-scooping Bambi Bucket or Heli bucket into the lake, dropping the load onto its target on Grey Mountain and then circling back.
Finally, the lakes opened and the weather improved. But that came alongside waves of family needs, illness and work deadlines. Slowly, I carved out bits of time to make it to the next lake.
Then there was the dreaded check-engine light on the van, and various gear issues—each thwarting my paddle plans. Beneath all of the weather, life and logistical challenges, I could feel the bigger hurdle.
Fear and anxiety had built up over the past months. This winter (even this past year) seemed like a harder one to shake off. There was the imposter syndrome that comes with taking on such a big expedition without more-advanced skills under my belt.
Camping on the shores of Lake Laberge in late May, fear hovered over everything. The day ahead was about facing my lake nemesis. Feeding my nervous stomach an early breakfast of hot coffee and oatmeal, I launched my SUP. It was a beautiful, quiet morning. The water was serene; only the laziest ripples made an appearance on its surface.
It was the calmest I had ever experienced Lake Laberge. It had been 15 years since I raced the 2010 Yukon River Quest as part of a tandem canoe team. That was a year of high winds that reached 25 knots, with one-metre-high waves. Not surprisingly, a number of teams capsized. Our tandem canoe made it off the lake without dumping, but only due to the ace talents of my paddle partner in the stern.
The year before the wind-lashing of the race, I paddled Lake Laberge with a friend from France. A day that had started calm had turned wild with the winds … and quickly. Our canoe got pinned at the end of the lake. We hunkered down on a beach, we flipped our canoe on its side to use as a wind block, made a meal and settled in for the evening. We waited out the wind for six hours before we could carry on to the Yukon River.
After those two experiences, I confess that I hadn’t been back on Laberge until this season. The 50 Lakes expedition was motivation to push through the challenges and fears. Momentum and luck then turned.
Suddenly, I was flying through the list. Lake by lake, the early season kinks got worked out. The van got a check. Items got patched and repaired. My systems were sorted and I stopped forgetting things. My movements of getting my board, paddle and gear from the van to the lake became quick and efficient. The pack of anxieties and the fear of the unknown floated away.
Each lake brought a moment of pure joy, of memory or laughter.
Like Mary Lake. It was my first time paddling this small lake that wraps around the far side of its subdivision namesake. The evening weather was stunning and I found some lovely gems. The beaver lodges were the headline of the night. The west side of the lake has the long-ago abandoned section of the White Pass railway, with its tracks and telegraph lines slowly being taken over by nature. Seeing the beaver lodge built into and over the old railway tracks made me chuckle. On the paddle back, I saw another beaver lodge. Woven amongst thousands of sticks and mud, I saw a lost paddle that a beaver made good use of and that is now a part of its lodge.
On Braeburn Lake, a female elk with her baby splashed along a sand spit between the shore and a small island. A pair of muskrats played peekaboo from their hole as I passed by. The white petals of the Northern anemones opened in bloom along the shoreline. I was enjoying the meditative paddle strokes and the overwhelming beauty of the landscapes. And the tears started flowing. I could feel the full-body release of the stress from the past weeks. I was fully in the moment, feeling like I was exactly where I should be.
As we head into summer solstice, the cobwebs of the season’s start have been shaken off. Ahead, a summer of more magical moments awaits.
More from the 50 Lakes series
Taagish Méné (Tagish Lake)
Łʼèx Hîni Shâk Âyi (Rose Lake)
Chu Cho (‘Big Water’) — Little Salmon Lake
Dòon Chúu — Fisheye Lake
A Lake With A Big Sky Vibe
Äshèyi Mǟn
Nekhų Män/ Kùsawu.â (Kusawa Lake): The Locals’ Favourite
50 Lakes: Autumn’s magic in every valley
Great Things Can Come in Small Packages
Things Are Really “#$@!” Up!
The Thrill Of The Seasonal (Gear) Swap
