Larsen River Hot Springs June 25/ 2020
It was 6am on Saturday morning, I got up to make coffee, I watched myself moving about the cabin like an old man, slowly, methodically, placing the pot with the spoon in it, onto the stove, and preparing my breakfast. I felt foolish being here, moving ever so slowly, after all I was 76 years old, I tried to pick up speed, as if someone is watching. No one was, except some ever vigilant mosquitoes, that were always ready to bite me. I sat down to drink the warm coffee and started reading a book titled “Petit Nicola”, in French. A strange choice of a book for Larsen Lake, Yukon. I reflected with a little bit of nostalgia on my arrival here. Yesterday, my landlord and a butch female pilot flew me to Larsen Lake, in an ancient float plane. They unloaded lumber, beaver traps, propane tanks, and assorted junk, and of course, my 12 shopping bags full of camping gear. In what seemed like a short minute, they left. They left me there, all by myself, hundreds of kilometers from another human being. After the plane left, the sudden quiet became very frightening. Reality set in. I wondered around the property. The place was extremely pretty. The lake was like a northern jewel, sun reflecting off the rippling surface. The dock was a floating up and down structure that I felt was there for my momentary amusement. The main building was a large, elegant structure, well suited for any large city subdivision. Really out of place. All doors and windows were boarded up with plywood, to prevent nonexistent intruders. The ground around the building was covered with plywood, garnished with hundred of sharp nails, in an effort to deter grizzly bears. A veritable Fort Knox. It was made crystal clear to me that I wasn’t allowed to use the main building. I felt uncomfortable even walking around the building, even though no one was around. I was allowed to use the “guest cottage”. A beautiful, traditional northern wood cabin. Very well built by a competent carpenter. In the interior, the cabin was full of stuff. Stuff that couldn’t find a home anywhere else. I shoved some items to a side and made a nest for myself and all my belongings. After all, this chalet was where I expected to reside for eight days. Ostensibly, my plans were to use this as a base for my expedition to the hot springs and back.
I was very lethargic, and not at all sure if the hike was worth the effort. Since a hike to the wilderness was to be a serious undertaking I vacillated about starting out. The weather would always be an excellent excuse, after all it rained daily since I left Watson Lake B.C. There wasn’t a single day without precipitation. The appearance of just a single cloud was a perfect excuse for leaving the hike for later.
Sunday morning I checked in with my wife Antoinette, on the satellite phone, regarding the weather forecast. Sadly sunshine was the prediction for a while. I ran out of reasonable excuses. Grudgingly, I packed all hiking gear that I felt was necessary. Then I hoisted the pack on to my back. It was way too heavy. Removed a few items and test-walked around the property. I left an ominous note on the table as to my travel plans, the reality being that if anyone other than me read the letter, it would be too late! I left with a heavy heart, no one said goodbye to me, I knew that if anything happened to me it could be the end….. I wasn’t melodramatic but rather just realistic. No helicopter could find me in the dense forest, the grizzly bears would be there first.
The first part of the hike was through a marshy, soggy, trail. My boots and pants were wet and muddy to the crotch. The trail was a cut-line, that turned into an animal trail for a while, and then it all disappeared without notice. This was the beginning of the real hike. I faced miles of bushwhacking ahead of me. In theory, and as per my note left at the cabin, I was going to follow the Larsen River on the west side all the way to the hot springs, but on a whim I decided to parallel the river on the east side mountain range. Good choice, as the vegetation on the ridge was less dense, so I progressed relatively better. The day was long and frustrating, still too many trees to maneuver around. Every time I glanced at my Garmin GPS, the indicator implied that I hardly advanced. The more I checked, the less I progressed. My imaginary hiking partner was constantly complaining about the mosquitos. I agreed, slushing DEET everywhere on my expoed body parts, was the only answer. I had bites on top of bites.
When you are old and alone in the forest, hundreds of miles from nowhere, bears are a real and imaginary concern. Hell no! Terrifying concern. Obviously, I didn’t have a gun. They are heavy and I am blind on one eye. I couldn’t hit a bear that was in front of my nose. My “good”eye was staring through a lense covered with DEET and sweat. The trees all looked alike, they were like tall solders imploring me turn around and head home. I again glanced at the GPS, I could hear it laughing at me. (On a previous hike it went completely blank, after the batteries died.) Without the GPS I would be at a total loss, as I can’t navigate with a compass. I would make a lousy boy-scout.
By 3pm, I literally could not put one foot in front of another, I unceremoniously collapsed on the ground. I guessed that I overdid the hike a little bit. What an understatement. I lay there panting like an old dog. I decided to call it a day. I did have enough energy to yell at the top of my lungs, and cursing Jesus, Allah, and Donald Trump for being here. But I had only myself to blame. I implored all grizzly bears to stay away while I set up tent for my new home in the forest. It was not easy as I was shaking like a leaf. My tiny home shared by hundreds of buzzing of insects. I killed most of them. I layed there with the slightest noise sending shivers up my spine. Actual sleep didn’t occur until late at night. Daylight, up north is almost 20 hours.
The thought did occur to me to turn back. Why was I here anyways? Hot water? What stupidity. Ignorance. Perhaps arrogance? Next morning was very chilly, it’s always chilly in the mornings, the sweaty wet clothes were ice cold. I made a pot of ho coffee, and cold cereal. It took about an hour to get going after rearranging my backpack. The conditions and the terrain were the same as the day before. Tediously at best, tiring at worst. At about mid-day I descended from the ridge of the mountain to be near Larsen Creek where I expected to see the hot springs. The river zigzagged and “S”curved dozens of times, so it was a guessing game to find the exact location. The trees blocked the view. I eventually reached the river, just one curve short of my destination. I figured that in about an hour I should be in heavenly bliss.
No such luck.
I was full of enthusiasm, expectations, joy and pride. I could see the hot springs. All I had to do was to cross a large grassy field and I would be there. The Mother Nature got even with me. I took two steps into the grassy area and I suddenly realized it was a marshy swamp. I took a couple more steps and I sunk down, way down. That was it. Slowly, I descended inch at a time to chest level. My heavy backpack and walking sticks made sure that I was firmly trapped, perhaps forever. I spent about an hour in that position. It felt like eternity. I started to cry, I screamed at top of my lungs. When I came to my senses, I removed my walking sticks straps and my backpack. Both of which floated to the surface. I then, with a lot of effort got myself into a horizontal position and crawled backwards to the edge of the swamp. These few feet took another hour. Exhausted, but I made it out. I hiked around the swamp, and wearily approached the hot springs.
It was heavenly. The large clearing, had an Olympic sized pool of hot water, constantly fed by an underground source.
I undressed to dry my clothes, spread out all my belongings in the sun and slowly immersed myself in to my very own natural hot tub. All the effort of the hike was worth the dip. To know, that probably I was the only person to visit this location in many years was the cherry on the cake.
My clothes and belongings were drying in the afternoon heat as I lay naked on the ground, the butterflies were chasing each other around me. Life was worth living. Soon, I had to think of returning to the cabin and back to reality.
Nick.
