Early springtime in the Yukon seems to ignite a sense of renewed magic and wonder inside the people of the North. The smell of wet Earth, and of trees, as they thaw with the ever longer-lasting sunshine brings life back into people’s smiles. Motivation mingles with excitement, and after the winter, we begin to prematurely don shorts and T-shirts long before the snow leaves the ground. Our translucent skin reflecting the sunlight and blinding our friends.

Springtime for me usually means deciding I want to take up long-distance cross-country running again. And every year, by midsummer, I generally scrap that as I enjoy breweries, festivals, and become swamped with summer guiding.

On one particular spring evening, I dressed up in my cold weather running attire, and bounced down the patio steps and down the driveway to begin a nice long jog.

I was in my early twenties, staying with my parents in between guiding seasons (I mean let’s be honest, it’s not like you get rich guiding canoe tours), This run I was about to embark on was aimed to travel all the way to the end of the gravel road, and back, seeing as snow still covered all the other trails.

My childhood home was located about 35 minutes south of the city of Whitehorse. We were 2 kilometers off the Alaska highway, down a gravel road, nestled amongst the trees.

Although we only owned 5 acres of land, I could continue on for a good long time, and become virtually lost in the bush, well past our property line.

So, in my teenage years, while several of my friends who lived in town were going through their phase of sneaking out at night to meet secret lovers and go to parties, I never did. Where was I going to go? To find a teddy bear picnic in the middle of the woods?

Needless to say, where we lived shaped my life completely.

I came to the end of the driveway, and quickened my pace to an energetic trot. The sun had turned the frosty earth to a sparkling gold, and my breath puffed out in little white clouds.

As I tuned into a natural rhythm, breathing in time with the crunch of frozen gravel beneath my pink running shoes, something flickered to my left. New, unfamiliar shapes in my periphery yanked at my attention, and my heart skidded to a halt with my feet.

I looked over, eyes widening as they took in the sight of the late sun glinting off the silver hides of around 20 to 30 caribou, only a couple of meters from where I stood.

In that moment, upon meeting the many pairs of wild, brown eyes and flared nostrils, time stood still. The steam from our breath lingered, in a celestial mist, around crowned heads.

Never before had I even detected signs of caribou this far down the mountains. 

I was too dumbfounded to close my mouth. I had no idea what to do. So we all just stared at each other.

I finally began to grin. I was in such awe of these silver creatures, standing so assertively, yet just as unsure as I.

I thanked them, and bowed deeply with the weight of all my respect and reverence upon me.

I then turned, to continue about my own business, to give them space, and to continue my unexpectedly magical run.

The sound of crashing brush and thundering hooves arose behind me, and I turned to see the entire herd of caribou, running alongside me. Powerful legs, a blur, through the black bark of trees.

I began to laugh, and run faster, tears running toward my ears in the wind. 

A wild joy, a fierce love, a primal excitement filled me to the brim, and made my heart feel ready to tear free from my chest.

I let loose a crazed howl from the depths of my belly, running faster and faster, until I was gasping with effort.

Eventually the speed and grace of the wild beasts beside me overcame my own, and just like that, they were gone.

My lungs burned from the frozen air I had gulped down in exultation, my chest rose and fell rapidly, and I could not keep the grin from my face. My heart was full, and could not possibly hold any more love and joy than it did in that moment.

An experience so powerful and rare is a precious gem; to run with Caribou. Creatures of Silver, in a world made of Gold.

By: Mikeala Shaw