September 6-7
I did a fair bit of hiking on this trip. Unlike hiking back home, all of Yukon is bear country and so I’ve had to mentally prepare myself for the eventuality that I would find myself face to face with a bear. I have bear spray but that is only used in certain rare circumstances. On top of that, as a lone traveller I had to be ready to face such a situation armed only with my own faculties (such as they are). This was my main concern when deciding to limit myself to day hikes. Secondarily, I was concerned with finding myself miles from nowhere and unable to fend for myself. I awoke Wednesday morning convinced that it was time to do an overnight hike into the sticks and stay overnight in a backcountry locale.
My main reason for the change of heart was not so much out of any well-placed confidence in myself but rather disappointment that I did not finish scaling King’s Throne mountain (due to misplaced fear of heights) or reach the foot of Samuel’s Glacier (due to misplaced fear of hiking late in the day). I felt it was time to prove it to myself that I could hike to a reasonably remote location with all my supplies on my back and survive a night.
In Kluane Park such excursions require registering with the office (so they know where to find your carcass if you don’t arrive back) and to pick up a mandatory bear cannister (surprisingly not to capture a bear, but rather to store your food so bears can’t get at it – who knew?). I went to the office and registered, collected my cannister and received my backcountry 101 briefing from the Parks Canada guide. Off I went. Two things I didn’t count on was that (1) I would be the only person booked at that particular backcountry location that night and (2) that all weather forecasts in Yukon, particularly ones that call for only a small chance of rain, are suspect at best and bogus at worst.
I set off with my provisions and tent and made the 7.5km hike on the Auriol Trail to the campsite. I arrived late afternoon, set up camp and had an hour long nap as I was still a bit tired after staying up late with my German friend the night before. When I got up I was surprised that no one else had arrived and resigned myself to spending the night alone.
I decided to scrounge up whatever wood I could find for an evening fire. Pickings were slim as the site was too remote for the park to stock wood and plenty of recent wet weather meant that anything on the ground was going to be damp. Some time around 7:00 I got my fire going and, with a lot of nurturing, a healthy campfire ensued to my surprise. Knowing my notoriously poor fire building skills I made sure to bring food that required no cooking or preparation. So I enjoyed the fire for its heat and my sense of accomplishment.
Around 10:00 pm I put out the fire and retired to the tent for the night with the satisfaction of knowing I had managed thus far without being eaten by a grizzly. I coccooned myself in my sleeping bag expecting a cold night. Instead the rain started to fall. No worries, there was always a chance there could be rain. By 1:00 am I was awoken by a deluge – a complete deluge – hammering on the fly of the tent. From then on I was wide awake, planning step-by-step my evacuation plan in the morning rehearsing it in my head. Thankfully, the tent kept me bone dry.
The rain finally slowed down at 6:30 with just enough daylight to break camp and hike my way out. I alighted from the tent blinking in the mist to discover that all the nearby mountains in view got significant snowfalls overnight. I limited breakfast to a banana, knowing that my hike would only be a two hour walk. My hunger would make me angry, swift and focused, I rationalized. Within 15 minutes I had packed up and rigged my waterproof survival blanket as a cover for my backpack so it wouldn’t get soaked during the walk out.
In every silver cloud is a pig’s ear I always say, and the silver cloud that morning came in the form of a wildlife sighting I was not expecting. At about the 3 km point I rounded a corner on the trail to find a massive bull moose blinking at me not more than 20m away in a stand of willow shrubs. Knowing I was in a precarious position in dense forest with a heavy pack on my back I did the only thing I could think of – I started talking to the moose. I spoke to him as though he were a friendly tail-wagging dog “oh isn’t he a nice boy!” – and other inanities that went on and on. I could not tell whether the moose was curious or annoyed by our one-way conversation but he didn’t move. And given that he was next to the path I had to take I was doing everything I could to avoid backtracking and finding a new path.
Sadly, because of the rain, my phone (i.e. camera) was buried in my pack to keep from getting wet. So I have no pictures to prove this encounter took place. In the end, I guess he figured I was boring or posed no threat to him. He casually turned, walked out onto the path in front of me and veered back into the forest on the other side. It was then I realized how big he actually was – nearly 6ft at the shoulder.
Apart from a playful grouse who followed me for a good 500m, that was the only wildlife I encountered on my excursion. I arrived back at the car in under two hours and found a restaurant back in Haines Junction to treat me to a hot breakfast. I then went back to the Parks Canada office to return my empty bear cannister telling the guide that I had failed to capture one. The girl gave me a funny look.
sedativegunk 