麻豆社区

KIRKMAN CREEK 鈥� The old thermometer nailed to the front of Linda Taylor's ramshackle bakery topped out at 43 C in the sunshine last Friday afternoon.

For everyone but the Yukon River Quest paddlers dozing under the shade of a makeshift tent topped with an oversized blue tarp, shade was hard to find.

Bugs swarmed in cloud-like formations over the rolling grass at the second of the race's two mandatory layovers.

For the last nine years, Taylor's summer home has served as a three-hour pit stop for River Quest racers.

Taylor and her family have survived in the Gold Rush era cabins by opening up their homestead as a campground and bakery to tourists travelling by river to Dawson.

For those paddlers with enough energy to make it past the blue tarp Friday, Taylor was dishing out warm turkey soup and roast beef sandwiches to anyone with an appetite.

Many never made it to the kitchen, and were asleep as soon as their head touched the grass in the checkpoint's quiet area.

"I feel like I was paddling in my sleep,鈥� said British serviceman Alan Jackson as he and his partner touched the checkpoint's shoreline. "I can't remember.鈥�

Mary Obstfeld, the only kayaker in the women's solo class, admitted she had been eating chocolate espresso beans to combat the onset of total exhaustion.

Sometime later, a weary father-daugher team was helped out of their kayak by checkpoint volunteers.

"You're almost there,鈥� someone told Perth, Ont. paddler Tracy Plourde.

"I know!鈥� she said. "Unbelievable.鈥�

Bleary-eyed Inuvik paddlers Evan MacLeod and Brandon Johnston

extended their stay at Kirkman to more than four hours, content to spend time chatting and relaxing with the Taylor family.

Johnston, 29, talked about his next canoe adventure, which he pictured as a "more relaxed, less mad dash鈥� type of paddle.

FORT SELKIRK 鈥� Historic Fort Selkirk still makes for a remarkable sight on the shore of the Yukon River.

The midnight sun rose high above the 19th-century trading post and village last Thursday night as the lead paddling teams rushed by.

Checkpoint manager Georgina Leslie and her 14-year-old grandson, Navarreaux Simmons, excitedly manned their posts, taking down team numbers and times as boats came into view on the river.

Leslie, a first-year volunteer from Whitehorse, said she was drawn to the race by the thrill and excitement surrounding it.

"It's so friggin' hard and so many people push themselves past their limits,鈥� she said after completing a game of cards with her grandson, visiting from Washington.

"Everybody 鈥� the paddlers, volunteers, organizers, media 鈥� are doing their absolute best, and it's thrilling.鈥�

Three young German tourists sat high on the shore above their docked canoes and watched excitedly as the racers paddled by, one after another.

The trio of adventurers were each midway through their own paddling trips from the Yukon capital to Dawson City.

One told the group of volunteers they were advised to set aside 14 to 16 days for the epic 715-km journey.

Dawn had broken Friday morning when kayak duo Stephen Handley and Callum Wright arrived at Selkirk via motorboat.

The two had been helped off shore after waving down a First Nations boat, and gratefully accepted a lift three kilometres to the historic fort.

The two military servicemen 鈥� one of three English teams raising funds for a charity known as Afghanistan Trust 鈥� had capsized after hitting something near the shoreline at 3:00 that morning.

Handley and Wright, both rookie paddlers, grabbed what they could of their gear and swam for shore, where their military training took over.

Without their map and spare paddle, the two built a fire, and watched with dread as a rainstorm approached.

"We saw the thunder and lightning in the distance,鈥� said Wright, 21. "We pulled on our survival blankets and decided to wait it out.鈥�

Five hours later, they found themselves at the fort complex, awaiting word about whether they could continue in the race without some key equipment.

After a phone call to the race marshal, an extra map was provided, and the two were able to paddle on downriver.

"I think I'd take Afghanistan over this,鈥� said Handley, 29.

Less than an hour after the paratroopers' arrival, New Zealand duo Graham Sutherland and Greg Lloyd steered their tandem kayak toward the riverbank and scaled the cliff towards the historic fort.

After paddling through an early-morning drizzle, the two stoked up the potbelly stove in the rustic kitchen cabin and strung up their gear to dry.

Asked to describe his last 36 hours on the Yukon River, the 44-year-old Lloyd admits he's been fighting off an overwhelming desire to pack up and go home.

"It's incredible,鈥� he said of the journey down the river. "And that's hard to say when you're jaded and sleep-deprived.鈥�

FIVE FINGER RAPIDS 鈥� A lone lightning bolt darts out of the night sky and touches a tree high on the Yukon River's hillside.

Flames flash to life, and smoke begins to rise from the dense forest above Five Finger Rapids, the only whitewater stretch paddlers face on the journey. Moments later, the smoke is billowing.

It's Thursday night, and the leading teams are bracing for a white-knuckle ride through the channel, about 40 km past the Carmacks checkpoint.

A safety boat idles in the most passable finger of water, keeping a watchful eye on teams passing through.

It's just after 7 p.m. when the first women's voyageur team is funnelled into the channel.

Dubbed "Currently Available,鈥� Team No. 58's attempt at shooting the rapids ends with a wave crashing over the back three paddlers and overturning the boat.

"Our line was perfect,鈥� team captain Mia Lee recalls later. "I called out for the brace, but that last wave just smacked us.

"It was hot out,鈥� Lee explained with a smile. "We were actually refreshed by it.鈥�

Lee, a three-time finisher of the River Quest, was unfazed by the incident, which saw two safety boats spring into action 鈥� one rescuing each of the six paddlers and the other whisking the water-laden canoe out of the quick river current.

"Our attitude was we're not going to let this get us down,鈥� said the

51-year-old Whitehorse paddler.

"Nobody on our team was going to scratch. In the end, it adds to the adventure and gives us something to talk about for years to come.鈥�

Her one regret was the spill cost her team an hour and 10 minutes as they collected and sorted gear, and bailed water from their canoe.

Even a last-ditch sprint to the finish line in Dawson wasn't enough for the all-Yukon team to achieve their goal of a 50-hour finish time.

The team members missed their mark by seven minutes, but still finished first in their class and third among all voyageur teams.

ON THE YUKON RIVER 鈥� Mist rose off the hills on the Yukon River last Saturday morning, as the last of the paddlers made their final push to the former Paris of the North.

A bald eagle swooped out of his nest in the tree-tops to soar low above the fast-rushing current.

A barge carrying supplies to the Minto Mine operation upriver appeared on the horizon, and soon the aftermath of his wake crashed into those remaining on the river.

Dark rainclouds caught up to the final safety boat leaving Kirkman Creek and began to unload heavy drops of rain.

Longtime race volunteer Gerry Rivest looked up to the heavens and smiled.

"You could paddle this river every summer of your life, and never see all of it,鈥� he said.