Alone in the Yukon

Adventuring in the wilds of Canada's Yukon territory usually involves skidooing across frozen landscapes, cross-country skiing through birch trees or drilling fishing holes into icy lakes. With an average winter temperature of -18 degrees Centigrade, and a rugged landscape that borders Alaska and the Arctic Ocean, Canada’s most north-westerly territory promises some pretty wild adventures.

Perhaps the most extreme adventure of all however, is taking time to enjoy the silence and isolation of the Yukon – just you and a log cabin, with no one else for miles around.

This is exactly what I did whilst writing my Masters thesis: I had been studying an English literature Masters in Vancouver for two years, and was invited by the Arctic Health Research Network to trial a new scheme for writers’ retreats. Rather than spending days researching away in the library, I was going to write my thesis in a log cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Eagle’s Landing

Eagle’s Landing is a collection of two cottages, just down the hill from the owner’s house. Kevin Barr has been providing accommodation there for years, although it all started rather accidentally. A couple phoned him up at random and asked if he had a room to stay in – he didn’t, but he said ‘why not?’, and called his friends round to build a log cabin before the couple arrived. The little house they created has a kitchen, living room and bedroom area, and a mezzanine level covering half the space from the roof. A free-standing wood burning stove heats the cabin, whilst pots and pans rattle on the wall like probably did in the days of the prospectors. A larger cabin suitable for a small family stands across the way, and although there was an occasional visitor passing through, I went for days without talking to anyone.

On the shores of Crag Lake, Tagish First Nations territory, Eagle’s Landing overlooks the Nores Mountain range just one hour south of Whitehorse. It was on the shores of Crag Lake that Skookum Jim, a First Nations Tagish explorer and guide, had a spiritual vision which told him where gold was in the Klondike. This was perhaps the spark that started the 1850s Gold Rush which later shaped and defined the White Pass trail and much of northern Canada. I wasn’t expecting to strike gold during my stay, but I at least hoped for a little inspiration.

No teddybear’s picnic

My day started with an early morning yoga session and a run through the forest. I would jog for an hour, skipping and jumping over tree roots – occasionally falling face-first if I wasn’t paying attention – but always with the frozen lake at my side. I would then eat breakfast on the porch and spend all day writing and reading with a blanket across my knees, following the winter sun as it traced a path across the porch.

Admittedly, the bear claw marks were a shock. I was on one of my morning runs, when the sight of six-inch scratches scoured across a silver birch stopped me dead in my tracks. Canadians love to regale wide-eyed visitors with stories of bears and beasts in the wilderness but I hadn’t expected to come face-to-face with the evidence just metres from where I was sleeping. Perhaps this time alone in the middle of nowhere was more risky than I had realised.

Steaming

I discovered the sauna cabin a week into my stay. Set behind a few trees, Kevin had built a small two-room cabin especially to house it. You left your clothes in the first room, and then sweat it out next to an enormous wood burning stove in the second. I have never had a homemade sauna experience: it took an hour of chopping wood before the fire was stoked up to a raging heat, and I then went down to the lake to collect water. The lake was frozen, which rendered my bucket useless; so instead I cracked off chunks of ice from the waters edge, and carried it in my arms.

In First Nation tradition, communities regularly undergo a sweat lodge ceremony to commune with their ancestors and purify themselves physically and spiritually. A traditional sweat would take place in a structure of willow and birch poles curved into a dome and covered with heavy black-out material. Burning hot rocks are placed in the centre and a powerful scent of smouldering sage pervades the air, as groups stay in the lodge for four-hour-long sessions of prayer and reflection.

Whilst my sauna wasn’t a spiritual ceremony, it still purged me of any stress or worry over my work. Concerns eked themselves out of my pores, as my body relaxed into the heat and I became comfortable with my solitude. As I emerged from the sweat, I poured a bucket of freshly melted ice water over my head and vowed to always have at least one holiday alone every year.

The real wilderness

Friends back home thought I was crazy when I told them I was going away for ten days by myself. Holidays are almost always about socialising with other people, yet the person we often spend very little quality time with is ourself. Sidestepping the bustle of the everyday, to walk, exercise, read or chop wood, created a sense of space and peace within me that I had rarely felt before. I spent one afternoon just watching ice melt; three hours passed, sat on a rickety wooden jetty on the frozen lake, whilst shards of ice cracked and sighed their way back home into the water.

Watching ice melt might sound like watching paint dry, but I still consider silence an extreme sport: climbing a mountain or trekking across the Yukon is exhilarating and energetic, but sitting in silence is perhaps the greatest challenge of all.

To visit Eagle’s Landing in Carcross, Yukon, call 00 1 867 821 5057 or email [email protected]