A. INTRO TO SUMMER
2014 AND 2015
B. SUMMER OF 2014
B. i.
PRE-SUMMER
B. ii. SUMMER OF 2014
B. iii. CANADA TAKE ONE/ 2014
B.
iii. DAY 1 AND 2. THE BORDER AND THE
CHILLIWACK
B.
iii. DAY 3. THE HIKE TO LINDEMAN LAKE AND THE GATES RUN
B.
iii. DAY 4. THE NAHATLATCH AND SOME RANDOM GIRL NAMED
JOE
B.
iii. DAY 5 THE THOMPSON
B.
iii. DAY 6 THE CLEARWATER
B.
iii. DAY 7 CAYOOSE CREEK
B.
iii. DAY 8 THE UPPER LILOOET
B.
iii. DAY 9 GREEN RIVER
B.
iii. DAY 10 HOME
B. iv. POST SUMMER
B. v. SILENCE AND SOME FALLING RAIN
C. SUMMER OF 2015
C. i. WINNING A PERMIT
C. ii. PRE-SUMMER
C. iii. THE ALCAN HIGHWAY
C. iv. WHITEHORSE TAKE ONE
C. v. THE TATSENSHINI RIVER
C. v. i. THE DRIVE, THE BORDER, AND THE RIGGING
C. v. ii. THE RIVER
C. v. iii. THE TAKE OUT AND
FLIGHT HOME
C. vi. WHITEHORSE TAKE TWO
C. vii. FINISHING UP THE ALCAN
C. viii.
KENAI PENISULA
C. ix. HEADING TO SMITHERS AND WHITEHORSE TAKE THREE
C. x.
SMITHERS AND THE BABINE
C. xi. THE
FINAL RIVER OF SUMMER 2015, THE NASS
A. INTRO
“Another letter, again from Cerro Negro, is written, on the
contrary, in a tone of inspired evocation: reporting – it seems – a local
legend, it tells of an old Indian known as the father of stories, a man of
immemorial age, blind and illiterate, who uninterruptedly tells stories that
take place in countries and in times completely unknown to him.” Italo calvino
So the thing is, I didn’t publish my blog last year. Did you miss it? Maybe a little piece of your yearly routine
was off, and you couldn’t quite put a finger on the reason. Maybe you are new to this blog, and you
didn’t miss anything, yet maybe you’ll now have to read ten years of blog
before reading this entry to catch up with “the rest of the crew.” Or perhaps you joined me on one of my trips
over the last two years and you are looking for mentions of your name and
checking that I didn’t make some joke at your expense hidden in the subtext (or
in Kevin’s case, some joke about his mom).
For this blog, I’ve titled the different sections, just to make your
search shorter. You could even be one of
my students looking for some clue about their math teacher. Or perhaps, somehow out on the Internet you
caught wind of this blog and randomly clicked on a link and this is your first Sublimitylife experience. If that is you, I’m happy that you have
joined us for part of the first paragraph.
I do actually hope to increase my readership someday; but it is low on
my list of concerns. The thing is, I
meant to publish the 2014 blog, it was written, but it just didn’t feel
right. Maybe it wasn’t written well
enough. Maybe the summer of 2014 just
wasn’t the most exciting year. The thing
is, I will publish it, here and now with the summer of 2015. Maybe, I, the author, fail to understand how
blogs are supposed to work. Blogs should
have weekly updates at the very least, not every two years. Or maybe I was just meant to be a really bad
magazine article writer in the hopes of becoming Hunter S. Thompson. Maybe Hemingway
is trying to talk to me … in my dreams.
But did you, dear reader, feel like something was missing last
year? Only a couple of you thought to
ask. I suppose I can only blame myself
for publishing a blog with so many inside jokes that only family and close
friends can follow the themes. But how
are we going to become famous if I don’t at least publish once a year. In any case, welcome, my friends, to my
description of the summer of 2014 and 2015.
I appreciate the couple hours that you will now spend with my writing and
these words. Please sit back in a
comfortable chair with your lab top or portable device. Grab a whiskey on the rocks. I hope you enjoy. But most of all, I hope to be on a river
with you soon. Sorry that you had to
wait an extra year for your Sublimitylife
fix, I hope you’ll benefit some
from the power of delayed gratification.
I hope, that like a good multi-day river this story builds and builds to
an extraordinary conclusion. In any
case, we here at the Sublimitylife hope
this story will take you to a great conclusion.
The last Canadian River that we run in 2015, THE NASS, should serve as a
good finale.
B. SUMMER OF 2014
“So that’s why I’ll try contrary to my normal habits to
write a story with a beginning, middle and “grand finale” followed by silence
and falling rain” Clarice Lispector
B. i. PRE-SUMMER
“With the possible exception of things like box scores, race results, and stock market tabulations, there is no such thing as Objective Journalism. The phrase itself is a pompous contradiction in terms.” Hunter S
In late April my roommate Michele and I joined four others for a medium-water run down the Rogue River. The weather was extremely variable and for at least some of the trip we all hung out in a large portable teepee tent with a stove that Jake and Mary Ann brought along. Riding in style is what I would say.
On the way to a boater wedding in May; Jesse, Dave, Babcock, Carol, and I paddled down the lower White River at about 550 cfs. If you’ve never been on Oregon’s White River, you need to. The scenery is quite surprising and at least for now the wood danger is low.
Lacey and I spent my week off between spring and summer terms hanging with her family in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. We went flat water kayaking around the swamps three different times enjoying the scenery and I even got a short sit-on-top kayak session right in the middle of a group of dolphins. It was good to finally meet Lacey’s family. I always appreciate families that can vacation and function together. It takes effort, right? But it is always worth the effort.
B. ii. SUMMER OF 2014
“My god, I just remembered that we die. But—but me too?!
Don’t forget that for now it’s strawberry season.
Yes.” Clarice Lispector
The local kayakers have made a new overnight trip out of a run on the North Fork of the Lewis. The section used to be run in a day, but it is an awesome area and worth camping on. My roommate Michele, Jesse, and I only had 1.8 feet on the gauge; maybe the lowest recorded run? I would recommend a bit more water, (2.1 feet last time I ran it was perfect), but we had a lot of fun.
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| Michelle on the Lower North Fork Lewis |
The removal of a dam on the White Salmon has also created a new run, that locals affectionately call the lower-lower. It was nice to finally see the section. The portage around the little falls on the run was easier than I expected and the rapids better than I expected. That said, be careful when the run has lots of water. The rapids would be great but the portage has the feel of something epic.
One of the highlight trips for 2014 was
a permit I had pulled for an eight-day trip down the upper Main Salmon
River. It might surprise the reader to
know that I rarely win the lottery and get river permits. If my memory is correct, this was only the
second river permit I had ever won. I
instead always rely on friend’s permits and I am an expert at getting
cancelation permits. (As an interesting
side note, later in the blog, in 2015 I win a permit to run the Tatshenshini
River in Alaska. I was super excited
about my luck until the ranger at the takeout told me that everyone who applies
for The Tat gets a permit, IE there aren’t enough people heading Far North to
fill up the daily river trips.) In any
case, back to the Salmon: two dogs, two families (the Knapps and the Rosss),
two kids, and Lacey headed down into the smokey wilderness that is the lower
48’s biggest protected area. A couple of memories from this relaxing trip
stand out. First, the hill behind the
Christian Missionary Camp was an active fire.
It was a beautiful fire to float past, but it seemed like an ominous
sign for the missionaries to watch the fires above burn down, but we floated
on. The other fun details involve the
kids, Wendy and Wyatt. On my watch,
Wendy gave Wyatt his first sip of whiskey.
I didn’t know that Lisa had left a water bottle that had whiskey in it;
but I figured it out when Wyatt took a sip and then started screaming. Oops, but pretty funny. The second time Wyatt and Wendy made it into
the pages of my blog, Wyatt was dancing on top of our famous red kitchen box
feeling the freedoms of nudity. With
that same sense of freedom he decided to relieve himself, on top of the closed
kitchen. We’ve partied a lot on the
river, but no one had ever shat on the kitchen before. Hee Hee.
Then it was back to Portland, we had to fight a few alternator problems
to the Land Cruiser back and it literally died in front of a friend’s household
a mile from my house. Gave us an excuse
to hang with their new kiddo while the vehicle was repaired.
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| Lacey and I on the Salmon |
B. iii.
CANADA TAKE ONE/ 2014
“Oh yes. I fell out
of an ambulance there with only two dozen beer bottles and five journalists on
top of me, all heading for Paris.”
Malcolm Lowry
I always feel the need to show a modest amount of honesty
with my reader. That said, I also always
feel the need to edit some things because we all should have a bit of a
personal life and we should all have a bit of a public life. Trips to distance places have always created
a bit of extra anxiety for me. The
spoken beta that you can gain from distant friends, guidebooks, and websites can
become just that: distant. Some rivers
are new. Some rivers have changed since
I last ran them. Some rivers are just
like I know them to be. The morning that
we were supposed to leave for Canada, I decided to visit the doctor. I hadn’t slept all night, I was nervous, and
I wasn’t sure if my decision-making was clear.
I’m on a new anti-anxiety med and I walk up Mount Tabor near my house
every day that I’m home for some good exercise and natural antianxiety
medication. Although sometimes nervous
on this visit to Canada, the talk with the doctor helped. I’m still working on things, but that said,
my dear reader, aren’t we all. Lets stop
this regression, listen to a quick synopsis of Canada 2014 and most of all sit
back on our heals and really wait for that Canada take 2015 section that is
still to come.
B. iii. DAY 1 AND 2.
THE BORDER AND THE CHILLIWACK
We left a little later than expected and the friendly chat
South African Dave and I had with the border guards inside the compound slowed
us down a bit more. With all that we
still managed to make it to a campground in the middle of the classic
Chilliwack Canyon Run. It was a little
low, but recent rains had brought it back up to a quite nice flow. It had been a few years since I had run the
Chilliwack and my memory cells seemed a bit fried. We kept it slow and safe. Once we got to the biggest rapid, my memory
cells started firing again and I just bombed it. Weird how that works; sitting here at my
computer I really can’t remember what the drop looks like, but my muscle memory
prevailed off the lip. It was super good
times. Kinda on a whim, we went to scout
the extremely low Keyhole Canyon on Slesse Creek. On that same spirit of a whim, we decided to
scrape down a new run. The pictures and
scenery made a few bumps and bruises worth it.
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| Slesse Creek -- Photo by David Brigg |
B. iii. DAY 3. THE
HIKE TO LINDEMAN LAKE AND THE GATES RUN
After a rainy night in our tents, Dave and I hiked up to
Lindeman Lake, which sits above the breathtakingly beautiful Chilliwack
Lake. We had planned to hike farther,
but both of us had forgotten how tortuous shorts B.C. hikes could be. The short hike worked out well, because Dave
was able to put in above Allison’s Pool and run Trailer Park Rapid down into
the take out at Tahini Slalom Park while I drove shuttle and read a book. This is all classic Chilliwack stuff and
doable on low water years that have seen a little bit of rain.
B. iii. DAY 4. THE
NAHATLATCH AND SOME RANDOM GIRL NAMED JOE
After a comfortable stay at the Comfort Inn in Chilliwack,
Michael J Babcock who was accompanied by Mike and William Ross joined Dave and
I. After stories about our different
border crossing incidents, we ran the upper section of the Nahatlatch. Again it was a little bit of bump and grind
this year, especially for the catarafts, we still had a good time. William managed to earn his first booty beer
(he is now legal drinking age in B.C.) and we headed down river in the car to
scout the canyon for the next day. On
the scout, our adventure took an unexpected turn; we met Joe.
Joe has a master’s degree in Egyptology and as you might
expect, was looking for additional employment.
So she signed up for guide training on the Nahatlatch. The season was over for the guides and she
literally almost locked us into the maze of a resort as she headed for a
five-day solo canoe trip. Instead she
had somehow lost her canoe and with nothing to do talked us into joining her
for dinner. Joe was going to use her
solo adventure to decide if she should head to Alaska, Hawaii, or Australia
next. After
a fun evening we parted ways. The next
day we did make it down to scout the canyon, decided to run it a different
year, and helped get Joe’s van unstuck.
She really did a pretty good number putting it in the ditch and is
pretty lucky we were around.
B. iii. DAY 5 THE
THOMPSON
Next day we rallied for the big water of the Thompson River
and crashed in a yurt at Kumsheen Rafting that evening. Partied it up in the hot tub and made jokes
at the expensive of the guides on their end of the year party. Some of those jokes of course used the first
nation word Kumsheen. By now William had
earned his second booty beer with a big water swim at The Jaws. As a little bit of background story, I met
Mike Ross on a trip to the Thompson when I was either 18 or 19; but that is a
story for another time. Dinner that
night included listening to stories from Search and Rescue who were busy
looking for an older First Nation local that had gone out on his four wheeler,
likely for his final ride to save his younger relatives from having to take
care of him.
B. iii. DAY 6 THE CLEARWATER
Keeping with South African Dave’s mission to run a new river
every day we headed on the long drive to the Clearwater and launched in the
afternoon. Bigger water but so doable at
later season flows. It is always worth
the extra drive for the lower run on the Clearwater.
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| Scouting Tea Kettle right above the Launch for the Clearwater |
B. iii. DAY 7
CAYOOSE CREEK
Unlike our lack of good beta adventures down the class five
section of Cayoose Creek years ago that would cost Lori two broken ankles; this
time we choose to run the mellow class two section. It was a good break in the drive to Pemberton.
 |
| The Upper Mellower Section -- Cayoose Creek -- Photo by David Brigg |
B. iii. DAY 8 THE
UPPER LILOOET
Upstream from Pemberton we made camp at a campsite created
by a very large landslide that destroyed access to one of my favorite hot
springs in B.C. We had no idea until we
got up the very long road, but BC Hydro is putting in new dams on the Upper
Lilooet. They are run of the river dams
and won’t drain the rivers, but the flows will be manipulated a lot. This class three-four run was a new one for
the entire group and was actually significantly better than planned. The first half of the run was nice and
continuous with lots of hidden rocks in the silt-laden water to mess up our
lines. The biggest rapid was at our camp
and created by the landslides. The
catarafts ran it and then we had lunch at home base. Downstream it was classic glacial run out
looking for channels and watching for wood in the awesome old glacial
valley. After the run we made
our way to Key Hole Hot springs. BC
hydro had put in a new trail and it was much longer than we expected. But in true form, we had a great time bathing in small pool next to a very committed looking canyon. Later that season one of the Serrasolses brothers made a first decent of the sketchy waterfall that is upstream of the hot springs.
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| Key Hole Hot Springs |
B. iii. DAY 9 GREEN
RIVER
I’m really surprised I had never done the Canadian Class Two
section of the Green River coming out of gorgeous lake in whistler. It was significantly more exciting than its
class two rating would imply. We had
William lead us down and he did great out front after his week of river
running. The truck headed home after the
run and Dave and I stayed one more day.
B. iii. DAY 10 HOME
We just couldn’t bring ourselves to motivate for another
river the next day, so we said our goodbyes, for now, to Canada.
B. iv. POST SUMMER
“And thus I came to understand that I, anyhow, had had
plaque through all those long years in which, paradoxically enough, I’d
believed with all my soul that I was fighting it.” Camus
Upon returning from Canada, our family did a short class two
section of the Santiam and I got to ride with my niece Cassie on the front of
the boat for one of her first river trips.
Later in the year some of us also kicked out a nice end of summer Rogue
River trip.
B. v. SILENCE AND
SOME FALLING RAIN
“Silence.
If one day God comes to earth there will be great silence.
The silence is such that not even thought thinks.” Clarice Lispector
Then I had a birthday in December. As usually happens on my birthday, I was at a
white elephant gift exchange. Also, as
typical, I was wearing some silly hat or costume. I drank, as is the ordinary, some warm
cocktail paired with a beer. My
girlfriend (or perhaps some taxi) had to drive me home. In the silence and falling rain of the car’s
interior, I thought about my plans for next year’s adventure. Most of all I thought about the number 40 and
silence and cold falling rain.
The avid reader will recognize that my stories are more
likely to appreciate the need for literary freedom than truth. In reality the winter’s cold, falling rain,
and white elephant party proceeded my birthday by a few days. We actually flew to Mexico and had a great
time chasing sharks, Mayan ruins, drinks, and circus shows with our snorkel
gear on for my 40th. Those
themes just didn’t fit with the following description of summer 2015.
“On the wall facing my desk hangs a poster somebody gave
me. The dog Snoopy is sitting at a
typewriter, and in the cartoon you read the sentence, It was a dark and stormy night…”
italo calvino
C. i. WINNING A
PERMIT
It was dark and stormy on the night before Christmas Eve,
2014, when I received an email from Alaska stating that I had won a permit to run
the Tatshenshini River (the name translates in the first nation language to
smelly Chinook Salmon at the headwaters).
Let the planning begin, and let me tell you dear reader, it was a lot of
planning. I started by making a list of
friends and family to invite as well as a list of things to prepare for in a
journey to the Yukon. I suppose we
should jump right to our story, the editors are complaining about all this
writing. Why couldn’t I create a normal
blog with small bursts of text? Why
these long entries, two years worth of information all at once with no regard
for deadlines and paychecks. God only
knows what our Photojournalist is currently thinking, not to mention our
Technology Support Team here at TheSublimityLife.
C. ii. PRE-SUMMER
After a busy year earning extra money and teaching extra
classes I was able to fit in a quick Rogue River trip and then a Lower
Deschutes trip with Lacey. Other than
that we were all packing and planning for the big trip as summer eased its way
into Portland.
C. iii. THE ALCAN
HIGHWAY
Somehow the phrase, on a dark and stormy night, seems like
on odd way to start our summer adventure to Alaska, but it is a classic line. But I do picture Snoopy flying up to Alaska
in his WWI era doghouse. I picked Niki
up on July 7th. After zeroing
out the odometer we began driving. Two
months later and 9000 more miles on the truck, I would return to Portland. After a smooth border crossing we had an
excellent drive to Whitehorse Yukon. We
made a detour to start the Alcan at its original start location. When World War II was just starting to break
out in Europe the US worried about losing Alaska to the Russians. So in record time and with very little
Canadian input, the US built a road to supply its bases in Alaska. Through this blog you will read some quick
side stories about how this and other colonial influences forever changed the
First Nation populations that live along the Alcan. On our drive we saw Dinosaur footprints left
in sedimentary rock, moose, brown bears, black bears, stone sheep, big horn
sheep, and a couple of buffalo among other things. We visited a museum and watched a video about
the diseases and mayhem that the road brought for the locals. We even saw a RV that had lost its entire
rear axle. For us the drive was smooth, enjoyable, and very long.
C. iv. WHITEHORSE
TAKE ONE
Who wouldn’t want to start an adventure in a town next to
the Yukon River? Niki and I were the first
to arrive, seeking beta about places to buy our food, last minute supplies, and
which bars would serve to introduce our crew to the Yukon. We found a hotel with a secluded gravel back
lot where we could pack more that two weeks worth of food and gear for twelve
people. Babcock, Carol, and Jerod pulled
in a couple days later pulling the second trailer full of boats and equipment. Next a group of five flew into the small
airport: sister Carrie, old friend Mike
Ross, teacher buddy Allison Elliott, Niki’s Partner Allen, and new friend Meggy
M. Finally, and as usual a little behind
schedule, came Jesus John and his partner Patty in their 1970’s era van. For clarity, our engineering friend Jesus
(who is sometimes employed by Boeing) earned his name not from his considerable
good deeds or ability to make things fly safely, but from his flip-flopped,
long bearded, and robe wearing emergence from a van along some random river
years ago. The name stuck, and his
arrival time was perfect and magical as always.
After a few days of packing and shopping, we picked up 3 local shuttle
drivers in the morning and headed to the river.
C. v. THE TATSENSHINI
RIVER
“I may not know who I am, but I know where I’m from.” Wallace Stegner
Usually I feel my blog gives a decent description of a
river. At least it offers a flavor to
savor and entice. When it comes to the
tat, my vocabulary, story telling abilities, mental pictures, and sense of
godliness seem to fall short. I ask the
reader to use their imagination and like Alice in Wonderland once asked you to
do, drink this… The ways in which the
tat is different from any other permitted river in the west becomes obvious
from the beginning. On most permitted
rivers, a river ranger meets you at the put in giving a safety and ethics
talk. For the tat, we would start in the
Yukon, boat through northern British Columbia and then cross an international
border into Alaska. Because of this
international border crossing, the trip leader acts as the river ranger. You make a list of all the regulations, keep
a list of your campsites, make sure your group is carrying passports, and
finally keep a list of bear and other wildlife sightings. So we came from Oregon, and we launched in
the Yukon on the Tatsenshini River.
C. v. i. THE DRIVE, THE BORDER, AND THE RIGGING
On the way to the river we had to pass the put in and check
in via car with US border patrol. The
trick is to send the gear rigs down to the put in so that all of the gear
doesn’t run through border patrol. Just
a single van full of people needed to head to border patrol. Check in went well with a little scare since
our Canadian shuttle driver forgot his passport. At the put in we were surprised to see two
other groups. This turned out to be a
blessing in disguise. The glut of
launches on our same day meant that no more launches would be coming behind
us. On the rest of the trip we would
only see one of these groups again once and no one else until the last night on
the river. We took our time boating down
the river. It is so far away from home
that we saw no reason to hurry the journey.
Rigging took forever, but soon enough we sent the vehicles back and we
were celebrating Jesus John’s birthday and would launch the next day.
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| Birthday at the put in -- Photo by Allen Hux |
 |
| Photo by Allen Hux |
C. v. ii. THE RIVER
“There will always be another river, not to cross but to
follow.” Edward Abbey
The next day we launched on a float through the world’s
biggest UNESCO Heritage sight. All of
the interesting rapids happened the first day.
They were pretty fun read and run class three. At our first camp, Silver Creek, we ventured
up the creek to find a spawning salmon and enjoyed the scenery. Little did we know at this point, that the scenery
would just keep getting better and better.
A momma and baby moose hung out for a while on the other side of the
river and a male moose crossed upstream of us to our side of the river.
The next day we used our GPS tracker to count our river miles
down to sediments creek. One of the
guided groups was there, so we took the second campsite. The guided trip had brought some really good
beer but their clients only wanted Molsen’s Canadian. The guide and I did a swap for a case of
Canadian for his fancy canned beer to make his clients happy. That night a beaver scared the crap out of me
slapping its tail right next to my feet when I walked down to the river. Three of us hung out for a while watching him
swim around in his/her river. The next
day we hiked up to the canyon rim at one of the easiest places to reach the top
on the entire river. About half way up
we saw a glacier in the distance that completely filled up a valley. The image through the binoculars was pretty
clear, but we couldn’t quite decide if it was perhaps fog. Later in the trip we would realize that we
were looking at a huge glacier valley. There
was an obvious turn around point on the hike about 2/3 of the way up. I should have taken it, but four of us
continued to the top. It was near the
end that my body finally decided it really didn’t like this hike, but we made
it up and back down with the help of the ladies. That night back at camp we got to watch
Mountain Goats moving around up on the Cliffside up behind camp somewhat near
our hike.
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| Birthday -- Photo by Allen Hux |
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| Photo by Allen Hux |
Because of our Northern latitude we had a lot of light, hence it was sometimes hard to put yourself down to sleep. Carrie went 3 days before she realized that her headlamp didn’t have batteries in it. Most nights I didn’t get the sleep I needed.
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| Getting ready for a very long hike. We made it to the top on the right of the little canyon. -- Photo by Allen Hux |
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| Look close and you'll see either Dahl Sheep or Mountain Goats -- Photo by Allen Hux |
Our next stop was Alkie Creek and things just kept getting prettier. The stretch of river showed signs of washouts and a wandering river in a glacial valley. Around the campfire that night Carrie saw something in the river. “I was watching a stick float down the river and I decided that if it climbed out of the river it wasn’t a stick.” Sure enough a porcupine came out of the water and headed through camp. With Carrie’s warning I got to walk along with it for a bit till it entered the forest. Later we would see a few other porcupines wondering around the camp. The next day we hiked up the creek until it dead-ended. Along the way we found some excellent grizzly prints.
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| Trying to share my beer with a porcupine -- Photo by Allen Hux |
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| A typical camp scene -- Photo by Allen Hux |
The following paragraph is only a joke, and a joke by any other name is still nothing more than a joke. When we showed up to Alkie Creek campsite we soon realized why this campsite was recommended. It currently lives as my favorite riverside campsite in the world. It has the following: world class view, living aspen grove for the kitchen, sandy beach, bathing area, easy groover location, and an excellent 3 mile hike along the creek. Most importantly the campsite has a runnable section of world-class whitewater. I’m sure that other boaters have dragged kayaks, gear, and paddles up the creek to run its exceptional whitewater. What I’m not sure about is whether other groups had shown up to camp and decides to run the creek in pac-rafts since they didn’t have any hard shell boats with them. I needed to run this creek and recruited Maggy to join me. Something about this section of whitewater lured me in. So here is the thing. This is a joke, and this is only a joke. We took a shot of whiskey at the put in and launched our crafts. You as the reader need now watch this incredible video of our pac-raft decent:
And that shows our exploratory decent of Alkie Creek. If it was a creek by any other name, and if
we hadn’t had a shot of whiskey in the eddy of decision, the creek might be
still waiting for its first pac-raft decent.
But if you know me, you know, I had to run Alkie Creek.
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| A not so atypical beach scene -- Photo by Jerod |
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| Alkie Creek Descent -- Photo by Allen Hux |
Next stop was Towagh Creek. Our group worked well together, moving together like a glacier instead of wandering like individual snowflakes. We were starting to synch together as a group. Some of the crew saw a black bear on the way down to the camp. We even had a few fun little rapids that looked bigger than they were. It was a nice camp with a perfect groover location. Later the first night Mike and Maggy found a wolverine running across the open plain. Most of us choose not to believe them, but the ranger at the take out completely believed that they had seen a wolverine. Awesome. It was somewhere in here that my lack of sleep started really catching up with me. There was always the Fear Of Missing Out, or FOMA, combined with the short nights. It just took some effort to force myself to bed at a decent time. Honestly, I think it took me most of the rest of the year to catch up on my lack of sleep during a summer in BC/Alaska.
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| Melt Creek -- Photo by Allen Hux |
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| Melt Creek -- Photo by Allen Hux |
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| Our very large friend at Melt Creek. -- Photo by Allen Hux |
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| Melt Creek -- Photo by Allen Hux |
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| Jerod finds our first piece of margarita ice. |
Next stop was Melt Creek, which has a panoramic view of Glaciers. The campsite is directly below where the creek hits the river and would be easy to miss. To find enough parking for all our boats we had to drag two of the catarafts up the creek. It helped that our team member Jesus John could walk on water. The pictures do some justice to the craziness of this location. The first night we got to see a grizzly run across the entire Tatshenshini River when he smelled us. Behind camp there were big dug out beds that the grizzlies use to sleep in. Maggy was inspired by our decent of Alkie and walked up a ways to run Melt Creek.
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| Jesus John watching a grizzly and thinking about were to store his toothpaste -- Photo by Megi |
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| Megi taking the pack raft out on Melt Creek |
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| Jesus walking his cat boat on water up one of the few parking spots at Melt Creek -- Photo by Megi |
On our second night at melt creek I finished my book and
started into a new one. Read below to
see what I thought of it. Just for
reference, I take terrible notes for this blog in my journal; somehow I piece
them together into a somewhat coherent blog.
Part of the reason it takes me forever to write up my reports is because
of my short-on-detail notes. This one is
talking about Jesus John’s thought that the Grizzly bear we saw really doesn’t
want toothpaste from a tent and we needn’t worry about putting ours into dry
boxes. We offered to move his tent out
into the flat behind camp near the beds the grizzlies had dug into the ground
so he could test his hypothesis. He
didn’t like our plan. You also might
notice I really didn’t like my new book.
The next day we joined the much bigger Alsek River. The book wasn’t clear about what the rapids
would look like with the increased flow, but they remained mellow. The current was fast and it was more
important than ever to find lines that had enough water to prevent grounding. Our next stop was Walker Glacier where a
Glacier used to come down close enough to camp that people could walk on
it. Now the glacier has receded too far
up the hill to safely walk on, but a lake has been left that Pac-rafts work
great on. The park service only allows
people to either lay over here or at the much bigger Alsek Lake
downstream. With absolutely no one else
on the river, I’m sure we totally followed this restriction. Our theme for Walker Glacier was, “Why you got to be, why you got to be, such a
crevasse hole?” It turns out there is a
lot that you can do with a quote like this.
Why is it that I don’t like to bring a camera on trips? Yet, for the benefit of you, the reader, I
ask my friends to take pictures for me all the time. Some of the photos are staged; some of the
photos are au naturel. Some of my
friends (most) love to take these photos.
I appreciate it. My editors for
the blog offered to buy me a camera. I
don’t know. I just like to be me as a
minimalist.
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| Walker Glacier -- Photo by Allen Hux |
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| Walker Glacier -- Photo by Allen Hux |
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| Walker Glacier Bath Time -- Photo by Allen Hux |
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| Walker Glacier -- Photo by Allen Hux |
When we woke up in the morning to leave Walker Glacier, we experienced the thickest fog of the trip. We traveled through one of the prettiest sections of river only being able to see the two boats ahead of us. Our weather up to this point had been perfect, so we could only complain a little. At the end of the day we needed to float down into the lake. Huge glaciers can guard the entrance to the lake and you need to pick your route wisely. Because of the fog, we had no way to scout the entrance and therefore could only take the right cheat line that doesn’t always have enough water. Luckily we floated right trough it without problems and then found a nice campsite on the lake. I have read stories that the original First Nation boaters on the Alsek River used to float through a cave in the now receded glacier down into the lake. They might just be stories, but it does seem possible that the glaciers once covered the entrance to the lake. Hopefully the following pictures do some justice to the amazing scene that we found ourselves in. The weather was awful, but we had enough propane to burn, keeping ourselves at least a bit warmer. Once the rain finally stopped we also hiked up to look down on the lake from the top of the island. We were very glad we had floated down the sneak route since most of the other routes dead-ended into house sized glaciers. Every once in awhile a huge noise would rumble through camp. It was the icebergs rolling on their sides.
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| Photo by Allen Hux |
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| A sense of scale -- Photo by Allen Hux |
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| Photo by Allen Hux |
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| Photo by Allen Hux |
Some of the biggest rapids on the trip were on the section
below the lake. The river was now
enormous. Most of the river features
were easy to avoid, but Niki had a little bout with an iceberg that chased her
down a rapid. There are a few ways to
get to the landing strip at Dry Bay. One
is to float past it and then take this small obscure side channel back upstream
to the strip. Get the GPS coordinates if
you plan to do this. The other method is
to have a local pick you up with four wheelers and drive you over to the
takeout. This is the route that we
picked. If nothing else it made for good
pictures and we got some fresh salmon out of the deal. There are exactly 27 people who live in Dry
Bay, no more no less. And according to
the guide company that we bumped into, “They are all characters.”
C. v. iii. THE TAKE
OUT AND FLIGHT HOME
Description of the river on the sign at the take out: “Most rivers run from the mountains to the
sea. Not this one. The Alsek River runs through the
mountains. Not just any mountains, but
the St. Elias Mountains, among the highest, wildest, most glaciated coastal
mountains in the world. People have
followed the Alsek and Tatsenshini Rivers for thousands of years, first as a
trade route and hunting corridor, and more recently as a world-class rafting
destination.” Kinda funny, but the sign
was made in Sheridan Oregon according to a sticker on the back, perhaps at the
prison.
When I talked to the ranger and showed him our list of
wildlife, I didn’t expect his first question to be, “Did you see any wolverines?” You see, none of us had believed Mike Ross
when he said he saw a wolverine when hiking with Meggy. Instead we got a list of stories from Jim the
Ranger about how he just missed his first wolverine sighting as the rest of his
crew quietly photographed the wild animal.
I don’t know if you, the reader, believe that Mike Ross and Meggy saw a
wolverine, but as for River Ranger Jim, and me, we believe.
Here is our partial list of wildlife on the tat. Kingfisher, cougar scat, bald eagle, ravens,
grizzly bear, swans, momma, baby, and brother moose, falcon, salmon, interested
subspecies of dipper birds, beaver pile, beaver, golden eagle, bald eagle,
juvenile bald eagle, beaver den, merganser, chipmunk, either dahl sheep or
mountain goats on the hill, bumble bee taking a shit, squirrel, robin, sparrow,
alpine marmot, porcupine, sandpiper, wolverine, huge local swan, sea gulls,
jaegars, terns, pair of humming birds, black bear, etc
And here is my choice of power animals:
Here is a list of our camps with their appropriate day
number and power animal:
0. Launch Area –
Cougar Scat
1. Silver Creek –
Moose and a Calf
2. Silver Creek –
Falcon
3. Sediment Creek –
Beaver
4. Sediment Creek –
White Mountain Goats and/or Dahl Sheep
5. Alkie Creek –
Porcupine
6. Alkie Creek –
Another Porcupine and a Black Bear
7. Towagh Creek –
Wolverine
8. Towagh Creek –
Pair of Hummingbirds
9. Melt Creek – A few Grizzly Bears
10. Melt Creek – Ice
floating down the creek like a fish
11. Walker Glacier –
Lots of Gulls and some hawk called a Jaeger
12. Gateway Knob on
the lake – Iceberg shaped like a llama
13. Gateway Knob on
the lake – Iceberg shaped like a frog
14. Takeout – A
little Tern who came to eat a salmon carcass and his Bald Eagle Friend
The careful observer might notice that we stayed two nights
at a lot of the camps. It was that kind
of trip that all camps had some adventure that could be taken.
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| Photo by Allen Hux |
We had been warned that the weather on the Tat and Alsek is
often bad and occasionally planes can’t make it in. We only really experienced this weather the
last couple of days. When we woke up the
morning that our plane was to arrive and saw the perfect blue skies, the stoke factor
began to set in. Since we didn’t really
know how our gear would fit in a plane, we had ordered the biggest plane that
could land at the strip. It just made
everything easy. It took about an hour
to load all our gear into the plane. Then
we went to the back of the craft where a stewardess showed us to our
seats. Carrie used her youth to work her
way into the front of the plane and sat between the pilot and copilot. The flight home was impressive. We had our own flight attendant who thought
we were rich and kept trying to give us drinks and food. We finally convinced her to chill and watch
the most scenic flight that most of us will ever take. The plane followed the path of our river journey
in reverse. We could see some of our camps and the entire glaciers that
stretched back into the mountains. From
the river we had only seen the terminus of the glaciers. We even got a view of Mt. Fairweather, which
is notoriously difficult to see. Finally
the plane veered off towards Whitehorse, but in the distance we got a brief bonus
look at the Kluane; which is Canada’s highest peak and the world’s largest
granite monolith.
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| Our plane -- Photo by Allen Hux |
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| Bird's Eye View. Mt. Fairweather in the distance and Alsek Lake to the right -- Photo by Allen Hux |
C. vi. WHITEHORSE
TAKE TWO
Upon landing, only two of our crew stayed with the plane and
unloaded it. The rest of us went into
customs to get checked back into Canada.
Finally we picked up the two trucks and loaded them right there on the
tarmac. It was pretty awesome to watch a
747 land while we are out there loading our vehicles. Then we headed to our favorite bar, the Dirty
Northern Bastard and had a great time. The
next day the crew either flew or started driving home. Niki and I dropped the trailer at the shuttle
company and started heading farther North sans boating equipment.
C. vii. FINISHING UP
THE ALCAN
“I read in a book that the objectivity of thought can be
expressed using the verb “to think” in the impersonal third person: saying not
“I think” but “it thinks” as we say “it rains.”
italo calvino
On a somewhat random thought, Niki and I decided we had
better finish the entire Alcan Highway before we picked up Lacey in
Anchorage. Delta Junction was a bit out
of the way, but we drove the Alcan to its somewhat less than dramatic end. Niki and I also really wanted to see Cariboo
in the wild so we drove another 200 miles, mostly on gravel roads, for a chance
to find them. We did succeed in seeing
two different caribou in the wild. On
the morning drive to Anchorage we also got to see Denali. As trips to Alaska go, very few groups get to
see Denali, Mt. Fairweather, and the top of Kluane, but that is just the kind
of luck we had.
C. viii. KENAI PENISULA
After a much-needed shower at a hostel, we picked my
girlfriend Lacey up at the airport. The
first thing that she wanted to see was a tidal bore, and sure enough one was
happening that afternoon.
We had an excellent week car camping and exploring. As kind of a laundry list, here are some of
the things we did. Watched a bore
tide. Hiked to an excellent view above a
fjord. Hiked to the bottom of a
glacier. Spent a whole day reading books
by a stream. Went through a toll tunnel. Camped along an amazing fjord. Saw a whale through the binoculars. Visited some classic bars in Stewart and
Homer. Watched the Fox News Republican
debate. (This was the first of a very
long election cycle.) Saw a bear, sea
otter, seal, sea lion, juvenile bald eagles, and lots of birds from a sea kayak
trip near Homer. Had pizza at the Moose
Drool in Anchorage. We had a fun week
but were surprised just how many people there are on the peninsula during the
summer. Niki and Lacey flew home and I
was left on my own for a few days.
C. ix. HEADING TO
SMITHERS AND WHITEHORSE TAKE THREE
“Do you know how to tell the difference between a Canadian
and an American?” “Ask them to name the
prime minister of Canada.” Overheard in a bar
C. x. SMITHERS AND THE BABINE
“The river is as far as I can move from the world of numbers.” Jim Harrison
Over our two trips we have developed the following map that would be useful if you plan a rafting or kayaking trip to the Babine River. MAP
Over our two trips we have developed the following map that would be useful if you plan a rafting or kayaking trip to the Babine River. MAP
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| Camp One -- Photo by David Brigg |
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| Pestering the dish crew. -- Photo by David Brigg |
After launching it took us about 5 hours at 0.5 meters on the gauge to get to the first “larger than it looks” camp on the right which is about two miles below a class two-plus canyon. Next day we stopped at Shelagyote River for lunch and then in about exactly one hour of float time we stopped at Gail Creek on the left and walked up to find fossils. There are two nice fossils in a display case and then some others can be found about 50 yards downstream of the display case. After the fossils, a set of great read and run rapids leads to a small cascading creek called Thomalson. A half-mile downstream below a small rapid is a better-than-it-looks campsite on the right. The next day was a short action packed run down through some really nice rapids to Waterfall Camp. Then we all finally got an afternoon of rest and even a few games of ladder ball.
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| Shannon takes a kayaker shower -- Photo by David Brigg |
The local beta was that a large log was blocking the exit from Kispegas Canyon that we would encounter the next day. For our first trip down the Babine in 2007 the flows were extremely high and the Canyon was an absolute beast. This made me exceptionally worried about a possible log in the canyon. So with some trepidation we launched on the Babine’s biggest adventure day. It starts with some mellow rapids leading up to Grizzly Bear Falls. The trick is to do exactly everything that you aren’t supposed to do near bears, be quiet and sneak up on them. The first boats that floated down near the drop got to see a grizzly bear mom and two cubs along with as many as four other grizzly bears in the area. All of us got to see the two biggest grizzlies that couldn’t quite decide if they should take off or take us on. We had our marine grade air horns on the ready. In the end they both left and we ran the rapid down the left nicely. The difference in flow from 2007 was very apparent here and the rapid was fun. The next rapids were Fake Spincter and Spincter. These are the hardest rapids at the lower flows. About fifteen minutes downstream we scouted the canyon. Much to our relief the log was gone and the canyon was quite mellow at the lower flows. The log had washed out between the last group down the river and our trip. We were lucky since any kind of portage in Kispegas Canyon would be terrible. We went down to the amazing camp called Island and had a nice big celebration. The following day the rapids on the Skeena last about two hours and were much harder than I remembered them being. We passed a few nice campsites below the rapids that would make a great additional river day. I plan to take advantage of one of these campsites the next time down the run. Then it was a long float to our takeout with a quick stop at the totem poles. We had a great time camping at the take out.
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| One of the reasons to visit the Babine -- Photo by David Brigg |
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| Another reason to visit the Babine. The local story we got tells of a lahar event that left the village's canoes stuck on top of a nearby mountain. -- Photo by David Brigg |
The next day, Dave and I took a tour of the First Nation museum at the take-out, which was once the site of an old village. We also made a detour to a local “castle” called Battle Hill. The original inhabitants of the area had one of the most advanced human cultures ever that didn’t use or incorporate agriculture. They lived entirely off the land, salmon, berries, game, and very greasy Oolichan, which is a very nutritious type of smelt. They had rich trading routes up and down BC that existed all the way until European traders started making there way to the area. The tribes would fight, but they would often just pick one member of the tribe to fight and decide conflicts. As is usual, European traders brought change and conflict. My favorite story of this change is of a man named Nekt. The Europeans brought some iron supplies (including nails) to trade and these supplies created a demand and new reasons for conflict on the traditional supply routes. Because of these new conflicts, Chief Nekt, created a coat of armor out of shale rocks glued to a Grizzly Bear hide. The resin glue was likely a new European product and it made his coat of armor basically impenetrable for all the local weapons. From there he built a European style fort on top of Battle Hill that looked like a castle and disrupted the local way of life. What I enjoy about the story is how a small change in technology and trade, can have such huge effects on a very well established society. Nekt was finally hit by a lucky arrow strike and beheaded. This secluded area can count the Alcan Highway as a major change in a long list of historical changes.
C. xi. THE FINAL RIVER OF SUMMER 2015, THE NASS
“Do you believe that every story must have a beginning and
an end? If ancient times a story could
end only in two ways having passed all tests, the hero and the heroine married,
or else they died.” italo calvino
My first trip to Smithers was in 2004 and since then I’ve
been researching possible rivers to run in the area. The Grand Canyon of the Stikine comes up, but
I have always known that river is way above my paddling ability. I’m not quite sure when I first heard about
the Nass River, but it always sounded tempting and near the top of my skill
level. Recently, when a new guidebook
came out that included the Nass, it even made the river seem somewhat mellow,
but over the years I have learned to be cautious of Canadian Rivers. Part of my infatuation with the Nass and this
region is my love for the culture that once flourished here and still manages
to exist here. The Skeena, Stikine, and
Nass all flow out of a region called The Sacred Headwaters that still contain some
of the most wild and productive rivers in the world. Match this with the relative isolation this
region has always enjoyed and this really is wilderness. The problem with running a river near the top
of your ability levels after turning 40 is that fear and worry can make it hard
to know if you should attempt a particular river. When I first crossed the river on the way to
Smithers a week and a half earlier to meet the Babine crew, it was running much
higher than I would want to run it at. All rivers in this area have the ability
to rise and fall very quickly. But the
river had quickly fallen by the time we finished the Babine, we had a very
solid list of boaters, some local beta on the run, and somehow I talked myself
into joining the crew. Now, reading
through my journal for the Nass, I can tell how nervous I was. Literally a third of my two-year journal is
dedicated to the days on this river. It
was just a mental technique to calm myself down as I wrote in the journal,
which is one of the reasons I journal in the first place. To be honest, I’m not sure that running the
river was the best decision, I was very nervous, but on the other hand I’m glad
I ran the river.
My write up for the Nass won’t give the reader many useful
details to help plan a trip. I usually
only write up mellow class four whitewater and I’m not all that comfortable on
big water. I’ve always thought authors
who are extremely comfortable on the said river should be the only ones to give
the river descriptions. Luckily you can
find a full detailed write up of the river here:
Zach's Nass River Trip Report and Mileage Guide
Zach's Nass River Trip Report and Mileage Guide
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| These beaches have been used for a long time and some of the rocks were once tools -- Photo by Liane Owens |
So day zero was a long adventure in cars. Once again we planned to set our own shuttle. Part of the shuttle for the Nass goes along an original First Nation trading route called “The Grease Trail,” named after the very useful and tummy filling Smelt that migrate up the Nass River. This fish oil is so pure, it was burnt as a source of light, and traded up and down all local areas, including up a popular pass to the Skeena River. The locals created seamless cedar boxes and would carry them full of the fish grease on their backs up the path (now a gravel road). It took a bit of searching to find the takeout and to our amazement; another group from Oregon was there. Literally on the shuttle Stephen had said to Michael and Shannon, “finally I get to run a river with you that you have never run.” I joked, “And you only had to drive 1100 miles from Portland.” Then 1100 miles from Portland we find the NWRC van with Zachary Collier and some of his friends. It did make me confortable that such a confident crew of boaters would also be on the river; and it really was very exciting to be one small part of Zach’s many adventures before he got married at the end of the summer, in other words, it was a bachelor party!! On the way up to the put in we scouted the couple possible access points that had roads near the river. The river is always somewhat near a road, but near is a very relative word in Northern BC. This river is more wilderness than most rivers I have run. The last 5 miles into the put in are through a shroud of small poplars that already make you think you have left civilization. It is recommended you remove your antenna from your vehicle and turn your review mirrors in.
The next day we launched for day 1 on the Nass River, a
river that I had built up to be a challenge for many years, I was already
nervous. The actually launch for the
Nass is on the Bowswer River which quickly joins the Bell-Irving River which
takes you down to the Nass River. After
the first road bridge we entered a small canyon that was so narrow it actually
had a log spanning it. This log seemed
very surprising since we already had a large volume river feel. About 2/3 of the way through the day we
floated down to the Nass River proper and it seemed to double the flows. The next section was supposed to be bigger
than the first canyon but was actually easier at our flows with lots of
lines. We rejoined the bachelor party at
a camp on river right. It was truly a
bachelor party; they had set up a square canvas miner’s tent with a smoke stack
and wood stove. They were doing their
job as bachelor partiers, acting tough and brazen, and telling Zach not to get
married (only as a joke of course). Kevin’s
mom seemed to come up a lot; it reminded me of that time I hung out with her in
the back of an ambulance in Vegas.
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| Michael and a saved frog giving us a bit of Good Karma. -- Photo by David Brigg |
For day 2 of the Nass River, we floated back under the
usually distant road at a bridge and started the section that the guidebook Rockin’ Whitewater by Tania Millen
calls, “potentially the world’s best Grade 4 whitewater” and “pool-drop on
steroids.” I was happy to be in my
cataraft for this river, but even at that I was nervous for big water rapids in
BC described in such a way. Adding to
our wild life experience, the Nass has little tiny frogs that swim across
it. Many of them seem to be out of
energy and quite likely in danger. To
add to our river karma, Michael Williams saved one of these frogs.
We had a wonderful crew and lots of kayakers with big water
experience lead us down the river. The
rapids cumulated at what the bachelor party called Wolf Island Rapids. Their two boats went left along what turned
out to be a bit of a difficult line. Our
boats went right, which looked difficult but turned out to have a lot more line
choices available. But the bachelor
party got to see a big wolf running up the hill. Lots of bachelor parties head to some exotic
location and behave like wolves, but Zach took his crew to a river and showed
them an actual wolf in the wild. It goes
to show, not all bachelor parties are the same.
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| The Bachelor Crew and some TP -- Photo by David Brigg |
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| No Caption Needed -- Photo by David Brigg |
By day 3 my nervousness was starting to add up and I wasn’t sleeping well. Day 3 was supposed to be the mellowest day; but we would float under the last bridge, representing the last place to exit the river before Moose Carcass Canyon. I don’t think I was the only tired one; Michael surfed an epic wave and then proceeded to almost fall asleep in his boat on the flat-water stretch below. After passing the bridge, the river hit us with two surprisingly difficult rapids that tossed our group around a lot and frankly ended up scaring me; as I was only prepared for a mellow day. Our camp that night was awesome, with multi tiered waterfalls that some of the crew climbed; but I needed to go write in my journal and try to calm myself down and prepare for the last big stretch of whitewater of my summer. I was grumpy and nervous and went to bed early. After a few hours of sleep South African Dave woke us up to an epic showing of the Northern Lights. He had stayed up late reading his book, also nervous for the next day’s adventures. It was just what I needed to mentally prepare for the rapids the next day. The lights moved and danced just like you have seen in videos, and it is amazing to witness. I woke up the next morning and was for the most part ready to face the challenge.
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| Waterfall Camp -- Photo by David Brigg |
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| Swimming at the Waterfall Camp. -- Photo by David Brigg |
“The novel is not so much a literary genre, but a literary space, like a sea that is filled by many rivers.” Jose Saramago
I don’t really know how I knew this, but I had always
assumed that the guidebook was wrong to call the final canyon of the Nass River
class three. In earlier research for the
river I must have found some information about the lower canyon. Our local contact in Terrace had confirmed
that the last canyon was the most difficult and had thankfully given us the
hint to when possible hang on the left side of the river. By this point in the trip you are near the
end of the drainage with significantly more water than I’m used to, even
compared to some of the other BC big water rivers. The lead in rapid is called Squish and is a
huge wave train that is as big or bigger than I’ve ever seen Hermit Rapid on
the Grand Canyon. Then there is a large
eddy and a long forgotten logging bridge.
The entrance to the canyon is very intimidating. Our group stopped in the eddy and prepared
ourselves. Once we launched the kayakers
went first and Dawkin’s and I followed in our catarafts. After two weeks of boating together, our
group really pulled it together to make a nice safe run of the canyon. I was so happy and proud to see everyone
boating as strongly and safely as possible through the huge big water
canyon. It was one of many highlights of
my boating career. The major hazard is
Hahn’s Hole and it is fairly obvious that it is coming up on the right. The problem is figuring out how to work your
way back over to the left while still missing the random big water features,
boils, and waves of the river. The hole
is huge and literally has rocks acting as teeth in it. Many of us in Oregon, especially since we
aren’t used to big water rivers, would call the last canyon class five. Here is Dave’s description, “One mile of hard
read and run, then an eddy, then one more mile of Oregon class five that we
would have scouted if we could.”
After the Tchitin River enters from the right, the rapids
are done. We stopped at a little beach
and finished the whiskey. My body was so
excited to finally be able to relax and I think others in the group felt the
same way. The river rewarded our hard
work through the next few miles of the canyons.
We saw mountain goats up on a bench, harbor seals going up and down the
class one rapids searching for salmon, lots of eagles, and as an end to our
adventure we all got to see three timber wolves not to far from the river. They looked so large that at first I thought
I was looking at very large mountain goats.
It actually took them quite awhile to see our group and when they did
they bolted up the canyon scree slope.
That night it was quite scary to walk anywhere as you stepped over the
very large Timber Wolf prints that went up and down the beach.
The float to the takeout was amazing and we got to see some
working fish wheels that are still in use by the First Nation tribes. This run out below the hard stuff is possibly
one of the most beautiful sections of class-2 water. One of the boats working on the fish wheels
stopped and warned us of two black bears hanging at the takeout. After a long trip seeing many, many bears; we
didn’t realize the nature of their warning.
The bears had been humanized and were not afraid of us at all. They weren’t just there, they stayed there
and kept coming back each time we chased them away.We blew the air horn more at
that takeout than any other part of the trip.
While some of us drove the five-hour shuttle, others had to huddle
together and act large to keep the aggressive bears at bay.
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| Our friends at the takeout -- Photo by David Brigg |
At that point the Portland crew headed back but South African Dave and I had a bit more time. With a few extra days to burn we made the extremely scary drive down into Bella Coola; the steepest narrowest road I have ever driven down. We were rewarded with amazing views of a very long BC fjord. If you want to go to Bella Coola, go by boat.
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| Bella Coola -- Photo by David Brigg |
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| Bella Coola -- Photo by David Brigg |
“I feel a sudden aggressive benevolence toward everyone in
this room, as if I could somehow set the world straight merely by goodwill, by
doing the right thing – by being extremely nice to people. Instead I continue to stare stupidly at my
lunch.” Ellon Melloy
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| What the end of a long trip looks like. |
It is nearing the end of our long epic story. My editors are starting to breath easy,
noticing that the writer’s block is gone and I might actually publish my story
this year before Summer 2016 starts.
Somewhere near the end of my blogs I always like to include a dream
sequence. This year I had many dreams,
and it was difficult to pick a good one.
The chosen story started with me driving a spacecraft near the North
Pole, watching the northern lights skip and dance. I noticed from above that the elves seemed to
be asleep and the place was in massive disarray. I beamed down from the craft to assess the
problem. Things seemed a little strange
as I noticed the elves were just robots that looked like the maid from George
Jetson’s house. Yet they still had funny
little hats and oversized shoes on. The
elves weren’t actually asleep, but had rusted in place from lack of use. I spent time oiling and cleaning the rusty
maid-elves. When I finally got one to
speak, she explained the problem. After
the Jetsons show had fallen out of popularity the robots found new employment
up North. After discovering that Santa
Claus wasn’t real the robots had decided to stop making the gifts and toys since
they never got any of the credit. I
worked on convincing them to get back to work and “do it for the kids.” As I flew off, it seemed like my motivational
speech had worked.
“The city of cats and the city of men exist one inside the
other, but they are not the same city.”
italo calvino
Like the city of cats and men, the world that I knew when I
was young is not the same world that I currently live in. Trips and plans aren’t as carefree as they
once where. There are some advantages to
growing older: sometimes I bump into them.
Lacking the capacity to expand upon these thoughts, I feel this year’s
conclusion will be brief. What an amazing couple of years of adventure. I want to give thanks to all the friends that
joined me and helped along the way. I
can tell you it was a dark and stormy night when we began our plans for summer
of 2016…
