Yukon skier always relishes the call of the wild
No matter how demanding — and repetitive and stressful — his dayto-day routine gets, he knows there is a handy antidote. Only two hours away. One flight can carry the Canmore-based youngster from Calgary to the Yukon — a world away from the competitive grip of cross-country skiing, a place of soul-soothing serenity.
At least, as far as he’s concerned.
“I am able to, usually once or twice a year, fly home and get the chance to go hunting, to just be out in the wilderness,” says Knute Johnsgaard.
“Sitting close to wildlife, that sets my mind at peace. Sometimes you get too wound up thinking about ski racing and criteria and trying to make Olympics and world championships.
“In Canmore, you’re training, you’re coming home, you’re recovering from training, getting ready to train again the next day. It’s really valuable for me to be able to be in peace and quiet up in the Yukon. Some remote area, just me and the animals.
“It re-sets my mind and gives me peace.”
Johnsgaard’s tale is compelling stuff.
Not only is it that exceptionally cool name, a nod to his Scandinavian heritage. Not only is it the time, as a three-year-old, he broke his nose when his tricycle ride down a flight of stairs ended messily.
Not only is it the scar on his left hand, souvenir of a bloody run-in with an angry and sharp-toothed squirrel.
This is a guy whose hockey career halted when he was eight.
Why? Simple. The dad who organized the teams in his tiny hometown of Mount Lorne, half an hour south of Whitehorse, moved away.
By chance, another parent had started up a cross-country skiing club for five or six kids.
From those humble beginnings, Johnsgaard literally made strides — from once in while, to twice per week, to nearly every day.
He had no idea how fast he was until Grade 12. That year, 2010, Whitehorse happened to host the Canadian championships, and out-of-town coaches were struck by his dominating display.
“It was a big moment to realize, that rather than going to university, this was something I could choose as a career path.”
He has since sped his way to national-team status, to the World Cup circuit (part-time last winter, full steam now).
All of which had necessitated the shift south.
“I’m definitely a Yukon boy — that’s where my heart will stay, always,” says Johnsgaard, who turns 24 next month.
“But since I was a little kid shuffling around on skis, my dream was to be on the national team. So it was a pretty easy decision to move to down here.”
Some habits, however, are tough to break.
Johnsgaard, in August 2015, convinced coaches to allow him to customize his regimen.
So, rejecting a training block of roller-skiing, he took a week-long hike through a remote mountain range.
A 13-hour drive from Whitehorse, the solo excursion — entertainingly detailed in his online account (hardknockhunt. blogspot.ca) — included withstanding a grizzly charge, overcoming landmark-obscuring fog and pouring rain, (temporarily) losing his backpack and himself, dining on expired Sidekick noodles cooked in an energy drink.
However, he did shoot a caribou bull, which he butchered and humped out of the bush in two spine-crinkling loads.
This is just the latest entry in a blog he’s subtitled: The Hunting Stories of an Athlete.
“I really like cooking and eating good-quality foods, particularly that which I can gather or harvest myself,” says Johnsgaard.
“I love picking berries, anything from the forest, mushrooms. I try not to buy meat from the grocery store.”
Last winter, back on tamer ground, he threw himself into the Canmore scene.
Cutting-edge training paid dividends.
“It really helped me make that breakthrough.”
Joining the World Cup tour in January, he raced in Planica, Slovenia. By all accounts, it had been a jittery debut. “But it was good to shake off those nerves, then I could feel like I belonged there.”
It showed. In March, at Gatineau, Que., he placed 30th in the men’s skate sprint, earning his very first World Cup point.
“It was a huge moment for me,” says Johnsgaard.
“It’s every domestic skier’s first step … to being a competitive skier on the World Cup.”
But from that scrapbook moment, there are no keepsakes. Not even the results sheet. And he gave away his race bib.
“I know there are bigger moments to come.”
Which he hopes include a top-12 finish on the World Cup calendar, a berth in February’s world championships in Finland, an invitation to the 2018 Olympics.
And should his sport’s burdens and expectations begin to rest heavily, he knows what to do — and, more importantly, where to go. Northward. “Since I was really young, I’ve just loved the outdoors,” says Johnsgaard.
“It’s just a huge part of being a Yukoner — the connection to the outdoors.”