Canoe North Adventures Poetry
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Poetry writing is always met with a few groans at the beginning of the trip. But soon everyone gets into it as they see their fellow paddlers hastily writing notes on scrap pieces of paper or gazing off into the sky with the look of the sheer entrancement that only poetry writing can bring to your face. The final dinner is always entertaining! Here are some of the results from magnificent efforts.

The River
Our days paddling down the river have been to me like a compressed period of life that would have normally taken many years to unfold. Some days have a few quiet moments that let us relax and enjoy the river but never for long. There was always an unknown and exciting situation just around the next bend. The decision to go left or right had to be made quickly. The wrong decision could have serious consequences. Our leaders, Lin and Al, through their teaching skills sometimes reinforced by voice helped us all make the right choice most of the time. Our general well-being was assured but the enjoyment of the mealtimes at the camps required the help and cooperation of all. It is remarkable that hardly two weeks ago, we barely knew each other's names but now we are setting up and breaking down camp like a well-oiled machine. Tomorrow, being our last day together as a group, will let us reflect on what we have learned and perhaps allow us to be better paddlers on the river of life.
John Wheelwright

Timeless Power

timeless power
where giants walked
spirit soaring over mountains
with the golden eagle
bear tracks in the snow
quiet communion
creator raven constant, watching,
talking to me
rivers curving, connecting places
people past and present
people gutsy, open, generous
seekers whether they find
what they're looking for or not
skies changing, moving, sweeping
over and around me
wapitit, moose
timeless power of the Yukon
Anne Naylor

Yukon Sonnet
A clutch of bright and subtle colours
Spilled into the river
Contained in narrow slices
of green and red.
A speckled and happy scattering
Knifing through pewter ripples
Skimming on flat greens
bobbing across blues and greys.
Never making liquid harmony
with all about them but ever
keeping their crayon tones distinct
from slate and granite, stone-washed sand
grass buff and bush brown
the tones of the land.
Wendy Cecil

The Wilds of the North
Here we are together, sitting by the firelight in the wilds of the north. This virgin land had mountains, mountains the sun shines on with the power of a million stars that make us feel tiny and minuscule compared to this vast world. Yes, this land has mountains yet tho9ugh the Yukon has beauty, it can kill. Huge moonscapes tortured and decimated by the devilish fire that burdens this beautiful territory. But, behold, within this burnt, desolate area, the Yukon spirit fights against the fire, for within days, maybe even hours, new saplings push forth and the Yukon's majesty pours through in the form of a blossom, fireweed. Massive fields of it. Miles and miles of intense beauty. Yes, this land has many hidden treasures, Yet, it also has rivers, trees, animals of every kind. All of them makes us pale in comparison to this great land. But, yes there is always a but, if we learn and master this northern extremity, it will capture us in our hearts, minds and souls and at the same time make us as free as an eagle in flight. In this great land of the north, new friendships are kindled, new love is formed. In this wonderful land, things happen that you will never see again, never feel, never touch, never taste. So if we follow the Yukon's laws while living and until we die, we will rejoice in its creation, you will never regret coming to the wilds of the north.
Taylor Pace

Fourteen Days

Well the river shows its power, as it cuts every hour
Through the rock of this wild place.
The rapids & the shoals, the eddies & the holes
You see there's life in this water's face
There's fire in his eyes, as the river he spies
Looking for the safest path.
One wrong turn, the pain it will burn
As they suffer the rivers wrath.

And I just want to sit on this rocky shoal
Burn this scene in my memory.
The end's coming near & that's what I fear
This river's what I want to be.
After fourteen days of heat, cold and rain
Mosquitoes, flies, bruises and cuts
Do I want to stop this dream? Buddy you must be nuts!

Well the river will rise, visitors be wise
Make your tracks too close to shore.
And the wind will sing, see what it brings
Mother Nature will show you the door.
There's tracks on the ground, nature all around
The water's cold and crystal clear.
I want this to last, forget about the past
Leaving hear is what I fear.
Kev Weeres

Farewell to the Mountain River

The sun sat on the mountain for a rest
The birds were singing in every tree
All nature seemed inclined for a rest
But still there was no rest for me.

Farewell to Mountain River, your canyons so deep!
Let your mountains dark and mysterious be!
For when I'm away from this paradise we've found
Will you ever heave a sigh and a wish for me?
I grieve to leave this mountainous land
I grieve to leave my comrades all
And the river that does roll and toss
And the waterfalls and creeks of this land so wild!
I have my paddle and my vest
The rapids and corners are my test
But a poor paddling soul, the like of me
Must be tossed out and forgotten from this river dream!
Jill Weeres

Teaching Me

Thank you - mountains
For teaching me to be humble Thank you - river
For teaching me there are times to flow and times to fight Thank you - animals
For teaching me how precious our world is Thank you - sky
For teaching me no matter how many miles I make today - tomorrow is another day
Thank you - friends
For teaching me that fellowship makes everything that much better that we do together
Tony Vella

Dip and Swing
The river flows, never ceasing,
Surface smooth, then troubled
Spinning away from its purpose
Returning to the way it will go,
Onto the sea.

The creatures come to the river
For sustenance, to give birth, to survive.
People as well, use the river
For what it will give.

And we paddlers - we bring our own turbulence,
Our pushings and strivings.
We cannot fight the river,
Dip and swing,
Dip and swing,
As the days float by,
We learn to give way to the river.
Isabel Wheelwright

Yukon Dreams

The mountains heaved & lurched & reached for the sky.
The lichens took root on the barren rock.
The raven & the caribou courted on the tundra steppe.
Ancient voices echoed through the river valley.

The sculptor chisels life out of the solid stone.
The weaver threads a dazzling tapestry.
The writer struggles to find the words.
The painter splashes colour across the canvas.
The artist has a daunting task.

To capture a fleeting glimpse
Of the Yukon's sacred heart beat
Awe inspiring, stunning, unspoiled wilderness.
And so we sit amongst the tundra riches
And give ourselves unto the land.
We feel the north spirit flow through our veins.
We venture forth into the great unknown.
We search for the beauty in the evening sky.
Look for truth at the water's edge.
We capture a moment for now, for ever
We turn the page and let it go.
The Yukon teases and taunts us.
And locks us in her spell.

How much beauty can the land behold?
How much beauty can our palettes inspire.
Wild rivers and wild lands
A Klondike past that's rich and bold
Let our canvas drink the colours
Of Yukon's beauty, heart of gold.
Al Pace
Silent and Free

The ladies said "Are we going to the Yukon?"
"Yes" said the fair Joanne to Bruce with his toque on.
To follow the Nisutlin down to its end.
We'll camp each night as we paddle round the bend

We'll be wilderness women and gents all so brave.
Shining paddles will flash, our smiles we will save.
A hundred miles on the river through unspoiled lands
We're sure we can make it in Lin & Al's hands.

The river, a beauty, silent and free
And who would believe it - a latrine in which to pee.
The paddling was easy on each sunshine day.
We wish for something softer for our heads to lay.

We thought we'd see wild life - a moose or a bear.
With all of our chatting we never seemed to care.
That any wild thing within several miles
Would hide behind every tree, hill or rock piles.

Where was our luxury at the end of the day?
Lin & Al made us work hard before we could hit the hay.
Happy hour was certainly a bright moment for all.
But suddenly from the leaders would come this call.

Collect the wood, make the fire, dinner's got to be made.
It seems our peace of mind always would fade
What happened to butlers and waitresses galore
In fact, which end of this tent is the damn front door.

You should be happy, you came through in spades.
Yes, capture that wilderness spirit before it fades.
The Yukon has many stories to tell it is true.
But adds to its list, the one it tells of you.

You're a fine group, kind, funny and caring
Fit to take on a challenge with all of your daring
Thank you for letting us be part of your circle
We enjoyed your laughs, you are full of sparkle.

On the eve of our day when you all fly home
Think kindly on adventures of the Yukon as you roam.
This last wilderness on the road less traveled
Lin & Al with all their heart hope you have truly valued
Lin Ward

Random Thoughts

We see the everlasting images of the white and grey cloud patterns,
the riverbank drifts, the sand and clay ripple marks,
the straight and true spruce.

We see the morning mist of our first morning on the
river, the smooth grey surface of the
driftwood, the red-orange of the sunset.

We see the rolling hills of muted greens,
and snow studded mountains in the distance
as the meandering river beckons us on.

We see the first canoe
that breaks the morning calm,
the eagles and ravens soar.

We feel the warmth of the sun on our faces.
The fury of the desert storm as the dust bites
our eyes and dusts our bodies.

We feel the stiff sore muscles after
a day of steady paddling.

We feel the morning chill at 5am,
and the cool of the afternoon hail.

We feel the warmth and coziness of our sleeping bags.
And the chilling of our dips in the river.

We hear the drone of mosquito wrath,
the sizzle of the dinner meal, the fire wood crackle

We hear the gentle patter of the rain on tent roof.
We share the uniqueness of each other,
our strength and weaknesses.

We share the never ending tasks of making and breaking camp
and the comradery that a fine group of women bring.

We share the new grown confidence in our skills
and special beckon that the Yukon has on us.
This was a very significant and emotional week for me
and I thank you all for your part in it.

The memories live on ---
"I go to Nature to be soothed and healed and to have my
senses put in tune once more."
Joanne Osborne

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