the raven’s path
the raven’s path: a yukon race’s journey toward reconciliation
words x
shannon lough
A Yukon Race’s Journey Toward Reconciliation
An ultra trail race in the Yukon is taking its first steps toward reconciliation in the design and delivery of the event — demonstrating how organizers can go beyond the cursory ticking of a box. In Canada, you may be familiar with land acknowledgements at the start of a race, but there are more ways to help deepen our relationships with Indigenous People and the land they have stewarded since time immemorial. The race crew that organizes the Raven 50 in Whitehorse, where the Yukon River flows through a valley bowl protected by the surrounding forested mountains, has begun engaging with Kwanlin Dün First Nation in an effort to create new pathways together while celebrating Indigenous runners from near and far.
For the past two years, the Raven 50 has sponsored two Indigenous runners to fly up to Whitehorse and challenge themselves on the steep, undulating, remote alpine trail. This year, Anita Cardinal-Stewart based in Edmonton, and Alethea Greyeyes, in Saskatoon, have been invited to run and speak, with their travel paid for by Air North.
An ultra trail race in the Yukon is taking its first steps toward reconciliation in the design and delivery of the event — demonstrating how organizers can go beyond the cursory ticking of a box. In Canada, you may be familiar with land acknowledgements at the start of a race, but there are more ways to help deepen our relationships with Indigenous People and the land they have stewarded since time immemorial. The race crew that organizes the Raven 50 in Whitehorse, where the Yukon River flows through a valley bowl protected by the surrounding forested mountains, has begun engaging with Kwanlin Dün First Nation in an effort to create new pathways together while celebrating Indigenous runners from near and far.
For the past two years, the Raven 50 has sponsored two Indigenous runners to fly up to Whitehorse and challenge themselves on the steep, undulating, remote alpine trail. This year, Anita Cardinal-Stewart based in Edmonton, and Alethea Greyeyes, in Saskatoon, have been invited to run and speak, with their travel paid for by Air North.
“running is medicine, it’s healing, it’s sacred. we’ve run on these lands since time immemorial to meet, to hunt, for sport. it’s why I always feel connected. running to me has been a source of ceremony, it’s healing,”
said Cardinal-Stewart, who is Nêhiyaw (Cree) and a member of Woodland Cree First Nation, and on race day, she runs in a traditional ribbon skirt.
Ultra running appealed to Cardinal-Stewart because she could run alone, feeling less isolated than at other races where there were no efforts to include Indigenous Peoples, and where she rarely encountered other Indigenous runners. Community is important to her, and she’s been creating Indigenous running teams at ultra events, which was how she met Alethea Greyeyes from Saskatoon, who joined her at the Sinister 7 Ultra in Alberta. The two women also direct a race for Orange Shirt Day on September 30 as part of their RunConciliAction mission — taking action toward reconciliation by running.
“reconciliation is not an end goal. it’s a process and journey that we go on together, we do this as a partnership. we work towards looking forward and remembering our past, and living in our present, and appreciating and helping to foster those important relationships with one another and relationships with the land,” cardinal-stewart said.
While the Raven 50 is on that journey today, you could say the race’s origin story took place on a different map entirely. It all began in a local bar, where the founders were drinking craft beer and dreaming up an event they could hold in their backyard. How silly that their fellow Yukoners were flying all over the place to run when they could be staging races locally. Maggie Mac was one of the settlers at the table. She remembers joking about giving the race a fun title, and it obviously needed to be named after a Yukon animal. And so they called their fledgling race the “Reckless Raven” after a local beer.
In their inaugural year of 2016, the event attracted 35 solo runners and an equal number of teams for the two-person 50-mile relay. John Carson, who would serve as race director for many years, considered this turnout a success. Though many participants couldn’t complete the route or meet the cut-off times, this only motivated them to return the following year seeking redemption.
In their inaugural year of 2016, the event attracted 35 solo runners and an equal number of teams for the two-person 50-mile relay. John Carson, who would serve as race director for many years, considered this turnout a success. Though many participants couldn’t complete the route or meet the cut-off times, this only motivated them to return the following year seeking redemption.
The Reckless Raven could have continued on this way, building the trail race’s reputation for its technical, and breathtaking landscape from Whitehorse to the hills and back. But in 2021, when archeologists discovered 215 unmarked graves at a former residential school site in Kamloops, B.C., Canadians were confronted with a dark past that had been kept buried for too long. As hundreds more unmarked graves were discovered there was a rising national reckoning and a growing pressure to pursue reconciliation. At the time, Mac, one of the original race founders, was working with Kwanlin Dün First Nation as a Child and Family Liaison Worker, and recently had a son with her Indigenous partner. She recalls going into a period of deep reflection, all while wrapping up a social work course that prompted her to write about reconciliation through sport.
“I called John (Carson) and challenged him. If this is the last year of the race (this was during the precarious pandemic era), let’s go out better than we came in. We know better, we can do better. Let’s partner in a meaningful way,” Mac said.
Carson, who had begun looking inward before Mac reached out, was open and willing to take on the challenge.
“In exploring my roots as a settler I’ve come to recognize my own privileges and biases. This process has inspired me to bring these important conversations into our event. As runners gather from around the world on these lands owned and governed by Indigenous Peoples, our goal is to work collaboratively with First Nation partners and use their input to enhance our event for participants, volunteers, and community members,” Carson said.
Taking early steps on this new path toward reconciliation, race organizers searched for other models to guide them. But they couldn’t find anything in the ultra marathon space. They mindfully began feeling out their own way in collaboration with Kwanlin Dün First Nation.
By 2023, many of the pieces were in place to rebrand and move onward. They embraced a new motto capturing the momentum: Shä̀w níthän. Másin cho. GunałchÎsh. Thank you. Together we fly! They changed the race name from Reckless Raven to the more culturally respectful Raven 50. An artist from the Nation, Terrence Cory Shorty, was hired to design their new logo. They rewrote and had the race guide vetted by the Nation. The land they run on is mostly the traditional hunting grounds and managed by the Nation, and so they keep the Chief and Council informed, while obtaining a land use permit from the First Nation Land Office.
On race day, an Elder offers an opening prayer, and the Nation provides the safety talk. A team of youths sweep the trails. Drummers encourage the runners at the mid-way point and finish line. Local caterers provide a post-race feast of bannock and stew.
All Indigenous runners receive free entry to the race, and a portion of the fees go toward supporting the Kwanlin Koyotes, a youth ski program founded by Gary Bailie. Bailie, a Kwanlin Dün member who has been inducted into the Yukon Sports Hall of Fame, is a race board member who advocates for youth inclusion, such as adding a relay to the main event.
“I help them lay out a course a couple kilometres long. We build teams of youths, so they have a relay. You’ve got to keep it fun for the kids. The major race is challenging and brings people in from all over the world. We’ve gotta include our youth, they’re the next generation. They see the big race, and who knows, maybe they’ll want to do it one day,” Bailie says.
“I called John (Carson) and challenged him. If this is the last year of the race (this was during the precarious pandemic era), let’s go out better than we came in. We know better, we can do better. Let’s partner in a meaningful way,” Mac said.
Carson, who had begun looking inward before Mac reached out, was open and willing to take on the challenge.
“In exploring my roots as a settler I’ve come to recognize my own privileges and biases. This process has inspired me to bring these important conversations into our event. As runners gather from around the world on these lands owned and governed by Indigenous Peoples, our goal is to work collaboratively with First Nation partners and use their input to enhance our event for participants, volunteers, and community members,” Carson said.
Taking early steps on this new path toward reconciliation, race organizers searched for other models to guide them. But they couldn’t find anything in the ultra marathon space. They mindfully began feeling out their own way in collaboration with Kwanlin Dün First Nation.
By 2023, many of the pieces were in place to rebrand and move onward. They embraced a new motto capturing the momentum: Shä̀w níthän. Másin cho. GunałchÎsh. Thank you. Together we fly! They changed the race name from Reckless Raven to the more culturally respectful Raven 50. An artist from the Nation, Terrence Cory Shorty, was hired to design their new logo. They rewrote and had the race guide vetted by the Nation. The land they run on is mostly the traditional hunting grounds and managed by the Nation, and so they keep the Chief and Council informed, while obtaining a land use permit from the First Nation Land Office.
On race day, an Elder offers an opening prayer, and the Nation provides the safety talk. A team of youths sweep the trails. Drummers encourage the runners at the mid-way point and finish line. Local caterers provide a post-race feast of bannock and stew.
All Indigenous runners receive free entry to the race, and a portion of the fees go toward supporting the Kwanlin Koyotes, a youth ski program founded by Gary Bailie. Bailie, a Kwanlin Dün member who has been inducted into the Yukon Sports Hall of Fame, is a race board member who advocates for youth inclusion, such as adding a relay to the main event.
“I help them lay out a course a couple kilometres long. We build teams of youths, so they have a relay. You’ve got to keep it fun for the kids. The major race is challenging and brings people in from all over the world. We’ve gotta include our youth, they’re the next generation. They see the big race, and who knows, maybe they’ll want to do it one day,” Bailie says.
A few years ago, Bailie lost his daughter to a fentanyl overdose. She had been an incredible skier, and her father says the Kwanlin Koyotes ski club is her legacy. While raising his granddaughter, Bailie is determined to be a force for change by influencing the younger generation. He says, “Healthy is the new high. Let’s get them addicted to the things that give life instead of taking it away.”
He sees the Raven 50 as an opportunity to bring people together in a healthy way, through community.
Fireweed Runners is another local youth program in Whitehorse dedicated to supporting positive mental and physical health practices. Natalie Thivierge, the current Raven 50 race director, facilitates this after-school program through a non-profit called Athletic Yukon, which is funded by the Yukon Safety and Compensation Board. She anticipates that 50 teams will run the youth relay this year.
The reconciliation path they’re on is certainly not linear or straightforward. Progress often resembles a traversing route, scrambling up and down, similar to the actual Raven 50 course. Even still, Indigenous ultra-runners like Sergio Avila, who grew up in Mexico and was sponsored to participate in 2024, are celebrating the journey.
“Honestly, I would not be attracted to The Reckless Raven. But the Raven 50, and the logo, and the artists and all that connection, that effort that I see they have put into making it more meaningful. That is really what spoke to me and of course, the land. Because it calls you to come and visit and see it in a different way,” said Avila.
He sees the Raven 50 as an opportunity to bring people together in a healthy way, through community.
Fireweed Runners is another local youth program in Whitehorse dedicated to supporting positive mental and physical health practices. Natalie Thivierge, the current Raven 50 race director, facilitates this after-school program through a non-profit called Athletic Yukon, which is funded by the Yukon Safety and Compensation Board. She anticipates that 50 teams will run the youth relay this year.
The reconciliation path they’re on is certainly not linear or straightforward. Progress often resembles a traversing route, scrambling up and down, similar to the actual Raven 50 course. Even still, Indigenous ultra-runners like Sergio Avila, who grew up in Mexico and was sponsored to participate in 2024, are celebrating the journey.
“Honestly, I would not be attracted to The Reckless Raven. But the Raven 50, and the logo, and the artists and all that connection, that effort that I see they have put into making it more meaningful. That is really what spoke to me and of course, the land. Because it calls you to come and visit and see it in a different way,” said Avila.
“reconciliation is not an end goal, it’s a process and a journey that we go on together.” – said anita cardinal-stewart.
The approach taken up by Raven 50 and Kwanlin Dün First Nation could very well serve as an example for other race directors. Perhaps what lies ahead is a reconciliation guide — not only to build relationships with Indigenous people, but also to nurture deeper connections with the land itself and cultivate a more inclusive community where Indigenous and non-Indigenous runners unite in their shared love of trail running.
To learn more about the Raven 50, please visit their website linked below. To register for the race, Indigenous registrants can secure a complimentary entry through their registration process with Race Roster. Runners from far and wide are welcome to come to the North and challenge one of the toughest 50km/50m ultras on Turtle Island. Together we Fly :).
More info and registration.
To learn more about the Raven 50, please visit their website linked below. To register for the race, Indigenous registrants can secure a complimentary entry through their registration process with Race Roster. Runners from far and wide are welcome to come to the North and challenge one of the toughest 50km/50m ultras on Turtle Island. Together we Fly :).
More info and registration.
about the author
Shannon Lough is a writer based on the shores of Lake Huron in Ontario, on the traditional territory of Anishinaabe, Haudenosaunee, and Neutral peoples. With a Master of Journalism from Carleton University, Shannon served as editor for a community newspaper in the Pacific North Coast of B.C. before joining Ecotrust Canada as Communications Manager, where she shares stories about sustainable place-based economic initiatives in rural, remote, and Indigenous communities.A dedicated runner, Shannon has logged miles across varied landscapes—from mountain trails, city scapes, and now along the surprisingly hilly trails in Huron County. When not working, she splits her time between creative writing, teaching yoga classes, and exploring the outdoors.
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