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Tuesday, October 10, 2017

CHAPTER 8 of the soon to release "UPSIDE DOWN IN THE YUKON RIVER"

 


 

 

What an amazing journey life can be. Jason Walsmith suggests giving away a chapter a week so people can decide if my writing is worthy of their time and a few bucks once the book releases. GREAT IDEA! This leads to a couple Facebook lives where I share a bit about myself, the book and a few ideas that hopefully inspired someone. And that lead towards a revelation that people maybe (probably) are tired of hearing me blah, blah, blah every Tuesday night so why not let some very cool cats share THEIR stories. AND THAT is leading towards an official Facebook live show launching in the next month or so called "The Elephant Tamers - Ordinary People Doing Extraordinary Things."

Like all things, this all began with one step, just one, and anyone can take one step. 

#dreamBIGdreams


CHAPTER 8

There was no reason to believe that the Yukon River Quest was a possibility for me. Reading the qualifications, I was a long shot to even get in. This was not like signing up for a 5K to meet chicks. This was the “longest canoe/kayak race in the world.” Self-proclaimed or not, 715 km, 444 miles, Whitehorse to Dawson City, Yukon was a damn long way.   Sitting in front of the computer perched atop Grandpa’s gifted TV, I was again a boy filled with wonder and a bit of dread. This was no vacation paddle to the Boundary Waters. The distance was nearly beyond comprehension. To be honest, it was entirely beyond comprehension. Were it not for the history of the race and documented finishes from years prior, I might not have believed it possible. But, I thought, if they can do it, then I can do it. Now, if I could just get in.
The race waiver confirmed this adventure should be taken seriously:
“The Yukon River Quest is a long-distance race that takes you through very rugged and isolated territory, where roads and people do not exist, and where dangers, including death or injury from hypothermia, drowning, bear mauling, forest fire or other acts of nature, do exist.”
It continued on to say, and I’m paraphrasing here, “If the shit does hit the fan, you damn well better be able to save yourself, because it may be many, many hours until we can get to you.”
My adventure resumé was on the weak end of the criteria to get in. It would take some crafty wordsmithing and, hopefully, a race director who could sense the desire to take on this monumental challenge in my words. A handful of marathons, a couple of twenty-four-hour-plus adventure races, and a few ultras paled in comparison to most all of the racer bios I read. I may have exaggerated the length of some of my training paddles.
The most recent edition of the Race to the Midnight Sun featured ninety-four teams with 236 paddlers from all around the world. Fourteen countries would be represented, including Australia, Austria, sixteen Canadian provinces/territories, fifteen different states from the USA, and even South Africa.  Reading through the bios was interesting and, in some cases, intimidating stuff, such as the 1972 Munich Olympian and race legend Heinz Rodinger, known simply as “the Austrian,” who competed and completed the Yukon River Quest while in his sixties (and still does today in his seventies). What was as intimidating as anything was how many of those athletes, much more qualified than me, had DNF’d the previous year.
Summer months in the Yukon offered the unique opportunity to play beneath the sun until the wee hours of the morning. Darkness never totally falls over the rugged landscape during the summer solstice. The race description, including its warnings, the incredible accomplishments of so many who had raced in the past, and the picture it painted of the wildness of the venue, was intoxicating. Drunk on the possibilities of what could be, I felt time vanish. Was I worthy of a spot in the race? In resumé, no. In spirit, yes.


If You are enjoying Steve's new book, take a glance to the right where you can download his first book FREE!

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