From Canadian territories in the heart of Alaska, through the wilds of North America, we rowed down the Yukon. Story of a great outfit.
One afternoon in September, as a small, sharp wind shuddered upward in the gray water of the river, four canoes touched the muddy shore that stretches out at the foot of Circle City in northern Alaska. Woolen beanies, felt hats, boots, canvas overalls, waxed, Canadian: the eight people who got out carried on their backs a motley but robust pile of crumpled, smoky but warm clothes. It looked like an old band of coureurs des bois springing from the depths of the boreal forest.
By giving the last strokes of the paddle and despite their fatigue, they did not fail to express their joy at having arrived there, in this small village lost at the bottom of a dirt track, somewhere in the region of Yukon-Koyukuk. . It was the return to civilization! Sitting on the swimming benches of their canoes, they had just traveled nearly 450 kilometers on the mighty waters of the Yukon, one of the largest rivers on the continent.
