Teslin River, YT
The Teslin River widens with the addition of the Boswell's flow and that of several other streams in the area. A few miles below our camp was Roaring Bull Rapids. At high water, these can offer an exhilarating ride, but we were traveling at low water. The bottom came up fast when we approached the upper rapids. As the river's speed increased, the rocks beneath our canoes appeared to be rushing upstream. We picked a route in deeper water to avoid running aground. Aside from a couple of standing waves, Roaring Bull Rapids went by almost unnoticed. We were all a bit disappointed as we settled back into the monotony of flat water.
As the Teslin neared its confluence with the Yukon River, it slowed perceptibly. The water was heavily silted, and it was no longer possible to see our progress over the bottom. Ahead, we could see the abandoned settlement of Hootalinqua, on the far side of the Yukon. We felt the Yukon's strong current as we paddled hard for its opposite shore. In contrast to the Teslin, the Yukon was a brilliant blue-green. Though the rivers were joined, their different colors showed that they would not be completely mixed for several miles.
As we hugged the shore of Hootalinqua Island, I watched carefully for signs of the shipyard that had once operated there. We pulled in at a rocky beach where massive beams lay half submerged. On the island's interior, we spotted what looked like a large factory, decaying and partially overgrown with tall spruce and aspen trees. What appeared to be a large building turned out to be the steamship Evelyn, in the same spot where it was laid up for the winter in 1930. Rusting iron pistons, rotting capstans, and other shipyard artifacts were strewn about. We pitched our tent in a fine campsite with a view of the river out front and the Evelyn behind.
The next day we visited the long-abandoned village of Big Salmon, one of the better-preserved historic sites along our route. Ned and I investigated some cabins. Arctic ground squirrels, called sik-siks, barked from their holes nearby. Some of the holes seemed to have been dug up, but I didn't give it much thought.
Big Salmon has a picturesque graveyard, complete with spirit houses-tiny cabins where First Nations people believe that the spirits of the dead are sheltered. Ned and I walked down the trail to the cemetery. Then, I stopped.
A large pile of fresh bear scat lay directly on the trail in front of us. It was full of sik-sik hair, a sure indication that the bear in question was not a timid black bear, but an unpredictable grizzly. Suddenly, the dug-up sik-sik holes in the village made perfect sense. Ned and I backtracked for reinforcements. The addition of Laura and another couple visiting Big Salmon made a larger and safer group for our second sortie. Together, we returned to the graveyard, where we viewed the spirit houses in solemn wonder.
For Robert Service, the Yukon was a magical place and all its people possessed a special spirit. We found that magic still alive.
On our last day, we paddled 45 miles in the rain to our take-out. We retrieved our truck from the Minto Resort. Undisturbed, it looked the same as when I'd left it, except for a thick coat of dust speckled with fat raindrops. We loaded up and headed north to see the sights of Dawson City.
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