The Day of the Rapids

Day 7, July 1, 2019

Have not seen friends from last night’s fireball party this morning yet as we push away from the campground landing. It is 7:00 am and Five Finger rapids is waiting about 35 miles downstream. The river is fast and clear and sweeps us along under the Carmacks bridge, one of only 3 bridges on the 1982 miles of Yukon waterway.

Up ahead on a sandbar is Jennifer’s red canoe. She is bent over doing something. As we pass by, she waves her gold pan and says, “I think I found a nugget”.

Soon, the towering rocks of Five Finger rapids come into focus. Our pulses quicken. Preferred passage is through the narrow channel on the right. Standing waves and eddies fight for space. Time speeds up and suddenly our canoe is being jerked in all directions. Water splashes off Deb in the front as the bow dips and then rises. Thirty seconds later, the danger is behind us. We celebrate our teamwork for keeping the canoe straight and the shiny side down. A sandbar allows us to beach and wait for Jennifer, who comes shooting through , whooping and raising her paddle. There is an overlook above the rapids that allows car people to spectate and record passage. Nothing to report this morning, except for about a gallon of foamy water in the canoe.

We paddle close to Jennifer for awhile. She seems pleased to be venturing alone. She says, “People pay for this solitude.” We paddle forward a bit. We hear her exclaim that she is at a low point. We wait for her. She says, “At times I think fuck it.” I think how can you? Where do you give up but at the end? There’s no where to put out. And there’s no cell service. She tells us her phone is dead and her charger is not working. Deb says, “Take mine it has two charges.” We hand it off to her. She asks if we’re going to stop at the abandoned cabin. Why not?

At mile 38 for the day we saw Jennifer’s canoe on the bank. We landed to inspect two gold rush era cabins with Jennifer. The log walls were still solid, though roofs were long gone. There was a Chevy pickup from about 1940 with many parts missing. The odometer showed 22,190. A Chevy truck of the same vintage and condition was located 1/4 mile away. There are no roads, so they must have been delivered by barge for purposes unknown.

Jennifer was excited to see this find. We were ready to move on and left her to eat her lunch. This turned out to be the last time we saw her.

An hour later we beached at a camping area with an active gold operation, it appeared. There were two cabins, one of which was old, but sound and clean inside. Trails went off in different directions. There was a large pile of bear scat, full of hair, not your typical vegetarian pile. It was a great campsite, until we remembered a guide back in Carmacks saying she would bring her large group here tonight. We reloaded our canoe and pushed off into the racing current and strong headwind, nearly capsizing for the first time. There were no other potential campsites listed on our map, so about an hour later we beached on the gravelly upriver side of a small island. Lots of flies, mosquitoes, and no-see-ums. Deb adds another hundred scratch points to her collection. She is going mad until neosporin and fireball work their magic. We have not seen Johnny and Emma all day and wonder if they had trouble in the rapids….