There were three Dicks in my life. Saying that recently to a friend made him squirm and squiggle, but it’s true. I was from a time when, if your name was Richard you were called Dick, and it was ok. There was my Uncle Dick, my first long term boyfriend Dick, and Yukon Dick. To Yukon Dick I am grateful, for another bead on the awakening of my life. From June to October of 1982, I was I was kayaking the headwaters and as much of the 2,300 miles of the Yukon River as weather would allow. I was traveling with my boyfriend and had spent most of the winter making preparations for the trip. We were using a foldable Klepper kayak that would allow us to fly the boat out from wherever the journey ended. The Klepper was a heavy boat with a wooden internal frame and a skin of blue canvas and rubber. The double kayak had a rudder and spray skirt. I had completed menus, packed food and other provisions and set dates, hoping to arrive on Lake Bennett just as the headwater lakes broke up in the spring. That would allow four months of river travel to make it to the Bering Sea before the river froze again. The trip was an extended version of a historical/wilderness trip I had taken the summer before as a guide for eight teenagers.
Part of the context for this trip was that my boyfriend’s house was leased out in the summer so he had to find alternative living arrangements.This trip fit the bill. Also, at age 22, I wanted to see something to the end. Thus far in my life most experiences were truncated by having to get back to school or home. I wanted to satisfy a deep desire to stay out in the wild until I was saturated and fulfilled. We took the Alaska State ferry up the inland passage from Seattle to Skagway with 28 bags weighing in at 180 pounds, and on the ferry met Lance and Greg. We chose the passenger fare, pitching our tent on the deck and staking out our “campsite” for the 4 day passage. The overall atmosphere of the makeshift campground must have been similar to to the makeshift towns that sprouted up all along the 1898 gold rush route. Noisy, friendly, crazy, with a sense of adventure and camaraderie. We got off at Skagway and sent the boat and some provisions ahead to Lake Bennett, then hiked the thirty three mile Chilkoot Pass with 45 pound packs. Thirty three miles may not sound long, but the summit is steep and the weather conditions treacherous. The hike took 5 days. At that time, being outside in the wild was my passion; the sheer beauty and physicality of the adventure. It was how I connected to the God part of me. There are many skills one learns in wilderness living that may not be used again. I saw myself as an adventurer and wildlife biologist like Olas Murie, and I loved so many of the skills. I loved learning to expertly tie what had become my favorite knot; the half hitch. I loved trying to figure out how to cook an extremely small variety of food over an open fire in different ways so as not to be boring. I loved learning to create an oven in the ground for baking, and tasting the first not-burned bread. I washed clothes, body and hair in a river. I sketched flowers, examined bones, making a new campsite every day. What I didn’t love was learning to be with myself over and over and over again, when things were tough, uncertain, and lonely. Finally on my June 11 birthday, after hiking the pass in rain and snow, we were at Lake Bennett, the first of the headwater lakes of the great Yukon River. The ice had just broken up and it was cold! We were in our tents and Lance and Greg heard a noise. They called out to listen. The noise was loud and crunchy over dead leaves in the woods. I was a seasoned camper and wilderness guide. But the first night out in bear country we all were a little nervous. The guys insisted it was a bear and we get out the gun. I insisted it wasn’t and to stay warm in the tent. It was freezing! All were in long underwear and with teeth chattering, crawled out of our sleeping bags and into the same darkness that pervaded the tents. Tension, crunch, gun pointed, crunch crunch. Louder crunch! A rabbit hopped by. All three bearded guys feeling foolish in long johns turned in for the first night. Crossing Lake Bennett can be as hazardous as crossing any ocean, or large lake, as cross winds can catch and capsize your boat in a split second. The lake is also lovely, long and narrow, and held in by mountains, reminding me of photos of fjords. We made it safely across that first headwater lake, and started getting our “sea-legs”. Besides Lance and Greg, we had not seen any other people since leaving Bennett Station. One evening we were surprised to come upon a man in a canoe. When I travelled the Yukon the year before, I had never encountered a single person or boat. He introduced himself as Dick and invited us to stop and have a meal with him. We paddled after him and were surprised to find that he lived year round in a teepee and had created a life, down to the smallest detail, as a life to survive. He seemed eager to show off his knowledge and skills, or maybe he was glad to have someone to talk to. We set up our camp for the night as he scoffed at and commented on many of our camping skills, competing with the other three guys on the trip. There was another young couple staying as guests. In the morning, clad only in shorts, gray and red wool socks and shoes, with gray hair pulled back in a ponytail, he was off to do his morning cardio workout. He explained that he had studied the topic extensively and had calculated that twenty minutes daily of aerobic exercise was exactly the amount his heart needed to stay fit. After twenty shirtless minutes, not one minute more or less, he went on to show us some yoga practices. Standing with legs apart, one hand on each knee, he began to roll and contort the muscles of his tanned stomach. “The practice of nauli”, he assured us, “takes a lifetime to be able to do.” This was the moment. There is never even a gap between thinking that I know, and what bursts forth. Some energy rose up inside and without a thought, I said “I can do that.” Yukon Dick asked, “Have you ever done it before?” I didn’t recall ever seeing this technique in my life or doing it, so I answered “No”, but somewhere inside I “knew” it. He challenged me then, on the spot. I rolled up my shirt to expose my untanned stomach, put my legs apart and placed my hands on my knees. My body caught it and stomach muscles rolled left to right, right to left, up and down effortlessly. Yukon Dick sputtered and said I must have been practicing this, no one can just do it. Lance, Greg and Dick enjoyed the show. I had no response but a trail of joy and wonder to follow. Comments are closed.
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Bodhanaa NithyanandaWriting to Discover and En-spire. Archives
April 2021
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