FIELD NOTES: SURVIVING A 1000-MILE PADDLE RACE

More people have stood on the summit of Mount Everest than have paddled into the uncharted, high-risk expanses of the northern Yukon River. Spanning 1,000 miles from Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, past the Canadian border, and deep into interior Alaska to the Dalton Highway Pipeline Bridge, the Yukon 1000 is universally recognized as the longest and most grueling paddle race on Earth.

To put the scale into perspective, most traditional paddling events are sprint efforts that wrap up in a matter of hours. The Yukon 1000 requires two-man teams to paddle up to 18 hours a day, covering over 100 miles daily through total isolation. Organizers enforce a mandatory six-hour rest shutdown every night from 11:00 PM to 5:00 AM, giving teams a maximum of 10 days to complete the 1,000-mile course.

Dawson City (the famous endpoint for shorter regional races) is reached around 450 miles in. From Dawson onward, competitors cross a threshold into pure survival: over 550 miles of uncharted, ultra-remote backcountry. There are no checkpoints past Dawson, no spectators, no cell service, and no safety net. Competitors face mandatory 18-hour daily paddling shifts, navigating braided river channels, sweeping strainers, whirlpools, and sudden arctic weather fronts while carrying every ounce of their own gear and sleeping rough in raw grizzly and black bear territory.

We had never heard of the Yukon 1000 when Paul Sibley and Bob Egbert reached out asking for gear support. When we started to dig in it was hard to fathom the reality of a paddling event that pushes so far past traditional competition and straight into survival territory. We agreed and geared them both up with our absolute best, trusting them to take our equipment into the deep unknown.

Out of the thousands of applicants they were the only team of the 30 final picks hailing from Hawaii. Paul (56) and Bob (56), Team Na Hoa Koa, are no strangers to suffering. Sibley, an ultra-endurance athlete originally from the bayous of Louisiana, has spent decades tackling Ironman triathlons, 100-mile mountain runs, mountaineering, and ocean outrigger paddling. Egbert, a former Navy SEAL and 16-time Ironman finisher, spent his youth in the Pacific Northwest climbing, diving, and paddling before transitioning into paddleboarding and coaching youth outrigger teams in Oahu. Together, they share a deep comfort with the water. But swapping open-ocean channels for an arctic river that was locked in ice just four weeks before race day presented a formidable learning curve.

Team Na Hoa Koa completed the Yukon 1000 in 7 days, 15 hours, and 49 minutes. Below is the story of their journey, told in their own words.

Interview by Bryce Lowe-White

Photos by Aaron Blackschmidt, Paul Sibley & Robert Egbert

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Tell us about your backgrounds, how you got into canoeing, and when the Yukon 1000 first hit your radar.

Paul Sibley: My launch into OC1 canoeing began in my early 40s after decades of endurance sports. While I paddled rivers over the years—including adventure racing and whitewater trips—real competitive racing didn't start until my early 40s. The Yukon 1000 hit our radar about three years ago when Bob landed on the race website late one night. We were immediately curious, so we applied for the race.

Bob Egbert: I dabbled in canoeing for many years while focused on swimming, biking, and running. It was about 26 years ago that I really dove into paddleboarding and learned the feel of the ocean. From there, it was a short leap to surfskis and keeping a paddle in my hand. When my son Wyatt turned 12, he joined the Ka Lāhui Kai race team, and I joined the program to coach the new generation of junior boys. This made canoe paddling front and center. It was about three years ago that I mentioned the Yukon 1000 to Paul. It sounded big and awesome: a bucket-list race and an adventure for the books as our kids grew and we had a bit more time.

Going from tropical Hawaiian heat to the Alaskan wilderness is a massive environmental shock. How did you prepare, and how did you adapt your mindset for that change?

Paul Sibley: The mental preparation was forged from decades of endurance racing across various terrains, making me very relaxed in the wild. However, the cold arctic weather did present a shock. Every day brought heat, wind, rain, and cold that tested the body. The elements never relented. Mental endurance is different from physical endurance. Over decades of running 100-milers, you learn that you will finish if you just take one more step. In the Yukon, we just took one more stroke and reminded ourselves that together, we could accomplish anything. In our minds, we had already completed the race before we even started.

Bob Egbert: Mindset is a topic I love. Mindset and mental performance training are fundamental to all things in life, and sport/adventure is a microcosm to practice that. My strategy was to arrive at the start line knowing and feeling that the Yukon 1000 is the only place I want to be for that timeframe. There is no doubt, no mental or emotional drift—only presence. Doubt is a fracture that discomfort or pain seeps through. Commitment, focus, and presence.

Preparation for the Yukon is dynamic. It requires a training program and base fitness to support muscles and tendons to manage the sheer duration of being in a canoe for 18 hours a day. It also includes route planning, nutrition, logistics, staging, and detailed gear preparation. We traveled to the Pacific Northwest for simulation training, which focused on canoe load planning, gear staging, and water-to-land transitions. Proper load plan and weight distribution are essential. Balance equals body management, reduced mental stress, and focus over extended timelines. Over the long haul, the smallest details make the biggest difference. I learned long ago in the SEAL Teams that the smallest detail makes the biggest difference. In the case of the Yukon 1000, the goal is to be present for what matters most and not get distracted by the things you can manage or mitigate.

As the only team hailing from Hawaii in the entire field, what was it like coming from an open-ocean outrigger background to the world's longest river canoe race?

Paul Sibley: Going from the islands and outrigger racing—where we read the ocean, winds, ground swells, and overall rhythm of the water—to the Yukon River, which was literally covered in ice a month before race day, was a learning curve. While there is a single river that we followed, it is a channel with many sloughs and tributaries constantly feeding into the main channel. The trick was to remain in the main channel, which was not evident at times. Other teams had significant experience reading river hydrology and knew how to run the rivers much better than us. A 10% advantage is a 100-mile advantage over the Yukon 1000 course.

We bought new river canoe paddles and started the race using them to pull water, but that didn't work out for us. Even on the flat sections, the river paddles didn't feel right. We switched to our Tahitian paddles, and that change felt natural. Over the distance, the primary difference across teams was river knowledge, shortcut channel options, and overall experience with river flow. We learned quickly to find the "River Nymph".

Bob Egbert: The advantages of living in Hawaii are that we can paddle year-round to build amazing base fitness, and while the rhythm of the ocean is different than the flow of a river, the wide range of ocean conditions prepares you for water on many levels. Adapting to the river environment is certainly a skill, but that's the fun of learning: hydrodynamics, flow, refractions, adjusting currents, river hydrology, and land topography. All these things come together as the art of river paddling.

Crossing ocean channels is amazing point-to-point paddling with the ever-present question of taking the right "line". The river was very different. The course is somewhat defined, yet there are many variables. The Yukon grew very large and wide as we raced down, spreading into many sloughs, each flowing downriver with very different outcomes. Finding the main flow can be challenging. Have a plan, keep your mind focused, and read the current and landscape. When you are in the river, you can't always see around the bend. Ocean channels and rivers each have their unique challenges, and the adventure is in the unknown, armed only with your experience and preparation.

What was the lowest point you faced as a two-man team, and how did you pull through together?

Paul Sibley: Day 6 was the crux! We had crossed into Alaska the day prior with great rhythm and solid motivation. We were managing well until the Yukon Flats began, and the arctic weather played its hand. The Yukon Flats are a maze of islands—sometimes miles long—with a braided main channel and so many sloughs pulling you in like Greek Sirens.

The headwind started slowly, and rain followed. The intensity picked up, lifting waves, graying out the sky, and driving freezing rain straight into your core. We pushed on, pulling hard at 5 mph. When I checked my watch, we were already almost 12 hours into the day! I was shivering heavily without any pause—real hypothermia. I think Bob was whistling from the back of the canoe, or maybe the hallucinations were getting stronger.

As we pushed into the storm, the river channel suddenly became covered with rocks. We had to jump out on noodle legs from sitting all day straight into waist-deep freezing water, which amplified my shivering. We portaged the canoe across the moving channel to a better opening, then launched back in. We had to manage building waves coming over the bow while keeping the canoe headed into the waves and away from strainers. We had to skirt a large whirlpool at one point and knuckle down through endless hours of treacherous conditions as our bodies were slowly shutting down.

We had to call the day at 94 miles to seek shelter. Bob helped me with my tent, and I stripped off all my wet clothes while standing in freezing weather to climb into my tent and survival bag. The shivering slowly stopped, only for hamstring cramps to begin. No food or water was prepared during this survival focus. As I slowly stabilized around 2:00 AM, I heard Bob yelling loudly for help over the raging storm outside his tent. I lifted my battered tent shell to see Bob wearing only his Florence jacket, working to save his shelter, which was failing from strong winds that were flooding all his gear—a total death trap. I ran over to help by burying his tent stakes perpendicularly like a snow fluke deep within the river silt, allowing him to crawl back into his shelter to recover. I had been using the Polartec Alpha Direct Hooded Fleece as a jacket and pillow, so it was dry. It became a real lifesaver as I gave it to Bob as his only piece of dry clothing. Day 6 was pure teamwork.

Bob Egbert: Our night near the Arctic Circle was the low point. We and our gear were completely wet from the day prior. As we learned, you get four seasons each day on the Yukon. A Northwesterly front blew in during the early evening while we were still on the water with about six hours of paddling left. At this time, Paul was beginning to feel the cold. We communicate closely about our physical, emotional, and mental condition, becoming very attuned to each other's signals. When his core temperature went on a downward trajectory, it was time to get off the water.

It took some time to find a place to land, and it was not an ideal campsite, given its significant exposure to the elements. Nonetheless, it had become a survival situation. Once we got Paul sheltered and warming, I set a quick camp, secured our gear, and dove into my tent—no food that night. As it happened, about two hours later, the wind increased and blew my tent apart. The rainfly was gone, and water was dumping in horizontally, quickly soaking the last of my sleeping bag—a true shit storm. I called for Paul to help. He found me buck naked trying to salvage the rainfly. Paul had a brilliant idea, and it worked. Teammates helping teammates—how fast fortunes change!

It was a very wet and cold night. Ultimately, we made the decision to just move, soft-pack our gear, and get on the water. Soon that was in the past, and we were into the next adventure: a beautiful, miracle-filled morning followed by treacherous, technical river conditions. That is the nature of the Yukon. Freedom and wild come without security, and I love that!

How did your Florence gear hold up through the dynamic conditions, and were there specific pieces that proved essential?

Paul Sibley: In short, we tested the heck out of the gear before the Yukon and during the race, and it stood up to the test!

Polartec Alpha Direct Hooded Fleece: Sheds water well, keeps you warm, and is very soft and comfortable. A must-have for any cold-weather adventure. It also doubles as the best pillow when placed over an inflatable pillow.

Sun Pro Long Sleeve Hooded Max UPF Shirt: I have a serious history with skin cancer requiring me to cover up, and the Yukon's sun didn't set. This shirt was my go-to for all-day paddling, warmth, and sun protection. No chafing or pinching around the arms. If you need to manage sun exposure, this shirt has been tested!

Cordura Expedition Pant: We wore these from the plane to the race, back again, and then to work the next day. I've never used a pair of pants that felt like board shorts but performed like pants. The crotch mesh was a perk, and quick drying was a great feature during daily rain showers.

2.5 and 3.0 Layer Shells: We had these at the ready every day since the Yukon gave us all four seasons daily. The protection from wind, rain, hail, and cold really worked. They also dried quickly, which is a major benefit.

Bob Egbert: I can't say enough about my Florence gear! In every way, it was the skin and shelter that allowed me to endeavor through dynamic and wide-ranging environments. It supported us through vigorous training and expedition racing, and it even looked good at the bar afterward.

Cordura Expedition Pant: Hands down the most comfortable and capable pants I have ever worn, period. Flexible, water-repellent, breathable, quick-drying, with great pocket design. The fabric composition and design are brilliant.

Polartec Alpha Direct Hooded Fleece: An unbelievable layer that retained heat extremely well and continued insulating even when damp or wet. It wicked water very well, and I didn't cut corners even when layering under my shell.

Airtex Long Sleeve Button-Up: Layered fantastically with the Airtex T-shirt, Polartec fleece, and 2.5-layer shell. I really liked the collar because it provided wind coverage and reduced chafing from my life-jacket straps. From a design standpoint, the collar made all the difference.

Airtex T-Shirt & Hoodie Options: I wear the T-shirt for everything in Hawaii (gym, paddle, cycle, hike). Having the option of a T-shirt, hoodie, and collar was great, and it all rolled up easily into a dry bag for daily weather variations. Super lightweight.

Runner Hat: Wore it every day. It was easy to throw a hoodie over in wind and rain, wearing the bill forward with the hood up, and backward when the sun went down. Perfect for me.

Standing at the finish line after 1,000 miles of pure backcountry, how has this expedition changed the way you view endurance, teamwork, and your connection to the outdoors?

Paul Sibley: We are both born of nature and tested over decades by the elements, yet something in the Yukon changed us. If it didn't, we shouldn't have done the race. At our most challenging point, when we needed to lock in and get it done, I looked at Bob in the back of the canoe and let him know that I trusted him. I turned forward, and we paddled into the storm as one. Not only as a team, but truly as one. We felt the conditions just as we felt the ocean. We instinctively knew when to brace, poke, pull, and scratch in unison.

When tested the most, we became immersed in the Yukon. From decades of the most extreme endurance events, we knew how to truly endure and survive. Becoming one with the Yukon and the generations before us was somehow relaxing despite the seriousness of the situation. This experience changed us, and we are already seeking our next backcountry adventure: packrafting!

Bob Egbert: Both Paul and I agree that this experience demanded and produced teamwork at the highest level—something you can't know unless you've experienced it. I experienced this in the SEAL Teams, but never in civilian life. This required complete trust, confidence, and surrender—a precious gift that is not common in daily or individual athletic life.

The most unexpected thing for me was how deeply the Yukon penetrated my soul. It is vast, beautiful, brutal, free adventure. So much space, so alone, so exposed. Relative to our daily lives of structure, obligation, and rules, feeling this freedom on such a large scale is amazing. It stays with you, you bring it back, and you yearn to be free again. Get out and explore; perspective shapes your thoughts, your actions, and your life. 🚩