16 July: Days-38, Total-40; Miles-20, Total-1352
Recently, everyday has been a little cooler than the previous day. It was in the sixties when we were in Ruby; yesterday morning it was in the mid-forties, this morning was in the low forties.
We were on our way at 7:30am. Soon the wind and waves were growing. Bill has been feeling tinges of pain in his neck, we have been trying to take it easier and we may need to take a complete day of rest. When paddling into a headwind and heavy waves, it is not really possible to “take it easy”.
Since about the time we passed through Circle, AK, we have seen fish camps on the river bank. Most are only used when the salmon are running and there are several types of salmon each with their own habits and unique schedule. The King Salmon are now running in this area. Some camps are quite elaborate and either have residents for the entire summer or get lots of weekend visits. In the Yukon, salmon are either caught with a set, gill net or with a fish-wheel. The water is too silty to use rod & reel. However, the heavily silted river enables the fish-wheel to work whereas in a clear stream the fish will avoid them. The fish-wheel is a type of trap. Big mesh scoops rotate into the water, occasionally lifting out large salmon which slide down a chute into a holding box. This big thing is handmade of wood and rotates 24 hours a day. Most folks check their traps once or twice a day. The catch is taken to their nearby fish camp, cleaned, filleted, salted and smoked. Fish that have spawned and started to deteriorate are dried for feeding to the sled dogs during winter.
The majority of the fish camps are clustered within about 10 miles of a village, both up and downstream.
Back at Galena, Andy Summers told us about a fish camp, 18 miles down stream at Bishop Rock. He thought they might sell us some salmon. Bill and I decided that I would stop, get the salmon and catch him down the river. I paddled ahead and soon saw the big rock cliffs and a large white cross to honor the bishop that was killed near here. The fish camp was tucked in a cove behind Bishop’s Rock. There were three or four houses, a couple of smoke houses, covered cutting tables & drying racks, some other out buildings and three boats. I stayed clear of their landing and yelled “Hello” several times. Finally, some women came out. Martha and young Raymond said hello and disappeared. I asked Jenny if they had any salmon they would sell. She told me it had been salted, but had not yet been smoked so I would have to cook it within a day or two. She picked out about as many filet strips as we would get when preparing a dinner for six to eight adults. Evidently this was really Eilene’s fish, I asked her how much and she wanted to give it to me. When I insisted on paying, she said OK, $2. I gave her $4 and still felt like it was not enough.
On the way back to my canoe, I took a picture of eight year old Cicely playing with a couple of the many large dogs. Everyone there appeared to be Athabaskan Indian. All were friendly and cheerful.
Bill was just passing by as I slipped into the main flow of the river. As we talked about our experiences with many of the local people. Bill developed a theory: The ones who work hard to make a living for their family are helpful and friendly, those that are on some type welfare program or other give-away plan are sour, unfriendly, have bad attitudes and are often high or hungover.
As we fought the wind and waves, I thought of the many ways I might fix some of the salmon. At one point I saw ice pellets falling on the canoe cover. We found a level spot and pulled onto a mud shore. There were wolf tracks in the mud. We both got our feet stuck in the mud as we waded alongside the boats to unload our gear. Bill nearly fell with a load; he caught himself on one knee. The lower half of his body was soaked in chilly water with 15 kts of wind to keep him cool. We no more than got our tents up till it started sleeting. Twenty minutes later the sun came out. I started fixing the salmon. Then quick back in the tent, this time snow was mixed with the sleet. This sun & salmon then sleet & snow sequence was repeated four times. I have given up on the salmon for tonight, I am in the tent and sleet is blowing against the tent by what must be a wind of 40 kts. The tent is shaking but not budging. This is probably the hardest blow we have had on the trip.
Later… When the wind eased, the sleet stopped and the sun appeared, I moved quickly to baste and pan-fry a couple of fillets. A stir-fry of onions, cabbage and carrots made a bed for the fillets. A toasted english muffin and some cool mountain stream water completed the meal. As I was putting away the washed utensils, the sleet started again, I dashed to the tent one last time. It is now 10pm, it is sleeting outside and I am dry, warm and well fed inside. 🙂
17 July: Days-39, Total-41; Miles-39, Total-1391
As I looked out of the tent, after a squall with sleet had passed, I saw a little ridge of sleet along the bottom edge of the tent. Sleet had hit the tent and rolled off into a one inch high line of ice on the windward side.
Frost was on logs, gear, ect. when we started fixing breakfast.
We decided to change our daily schedule to better deal with the wind and consequent waves. The new plan is to start in the evening, paddle through the low light that passes for night, and knock out 30-40 miles before stopping in the early morning. Usually the wind dies and the water is much more calm during the evening and early morning hours.
So, by 10am we were back in our tents trying to sleep/rest before we started paddling at 6:30pm. We both got a few hours sleep but mostly rested quietly, trying not to disturb the other. By 4pm we were packing and fixing a meal before departing. Bill tossed a salmon fillet in his pressure cooker with some rice and cabbage for his ‘meal-of-the-day’. I cut chunks of salmon and stirred them with some cabbage and cooked it for only a couple minutes. On top of this went some raw onion slivers and crumbled bacon. Another english muffin and wow! It was great.
It was calm when we pushed off at 6:15pm. We peacefully streamed along with the current, reminding each other how clever we were. The evening was wonderful. Watching the soft pink colors of the sun trying to set, but instead rolling around the northern horizon. About midnight it got noticeably cooler. A light quartering tailwind aided the current and our paddles as we slipped gently through the stillness of these mystic hours. There was a long twilight then little by little it got a bit lighter.
We wanted to knock out at least 33 miles, I like to see those hundreds rack-up every three days. At 3am we started looking for a campsite, the low light makes it difficult to evaluate potential sites from a distance. At 4am we pitched on a barren, dried mud/sand island. We had to carry our gear over a few hundred feet of soft mud to a dry area but it was home.
The new schedule worked well, we planned a 6pm departure and hit the sack. It was easy to sleep in the cool morning.
18 July: Day-40, Total-42; Miles-33, Total-1424
After paddling until 4am, I slept well to about 8am then off and on till noon. I was working on the journal when Bill asked if moving our departure up to 4pm would be OK. We decided he would leave soon and try to do some sailing since we had a hint of a quartering tailwind. He left at 3:30 sailing out of our little mud landing with a great smile on his face. After carrying the sailing rig for 1400 miles this was only the second time the wind was in a semi-favorable direction. It wonderful to see his canoe propelled by wind power; I ran down the shore to get a picture.
About an hour later I was underway. The water was smooth and it seemed that the light wind we had earlier had eased to almost nothing. Our plan was to meet at Kaltag, 15 miles downstream. It was a warm sunny day; current and paddle soon had me within sight of a tiny white dot far away. Bill’s sail is bright white and easy to spot for many miles. He arrived in Kaltag about a half-hour before me and was chatting with Thomas Neglaska and his daughter, Mariah, when I paddled to the gravel landing. Thomas gave us a ride on his 4-wheeler to the laundromat. It was almost 8pm, but he said it was open till 9pm and that it had a phone. We said good-bye and they drove off. The laundromat was closed. We walked to the village store; I used their phone to send messages, then filled my water bottles.
When I arrived back at the landing, Bill was talking with Frederick. Bill immediately started on his way. Frederick told me that he was kidding with Bill and Bill must have taken it seriously. He asked me to relay his apology.
It was a very pleasant paddle as the sun got lower and the temperature dropped a few degrees. All seemed so still as we were gliding on a glass-smooth surface. Soon we were looking for a campsite. The islands at the downstream end of Big Eight Mile Island were all mud and had no shade. The morning sun and its heat prevent Bill from sleeping. Bill spotted what might be a better place across the river. As we made for it, the current carried Bill into a sandbar. We both found suitable islands and, on the radio, decided that each of us would camp where we were currently located. We would contact each other at 1pm tomorrow afternoon to discuss that day’s plan.
19 July: Day-41, Total-43; Miles-43, 1467
A soft breeze, in one end of the tent and out the other, made for good sleeping. I got up about 10am, took a bath in the river, cooked up a grand meal, answered email and worked on yesterday’s journal entry.
Bill and I talked on the radio and made our departure plans. Bill thought he could catch some wind and sailed off. I was only a few minutes behind him at 3:45pm. Later we linked up and he thought there was enough wind that he could tow me. We hooked up and it worked so well we continued for hours. This paddleless cruising opened a new world to us. We now have more time to concentrate on the scenery, birds, maps, etc and I am doing the journal as we move along at an average of about 6 mph. What a deal!
Later…the wind eased at about 7:30pm, we paddled till midnight and found an island to call home.
Q: Now that you have been paddling almost six weeks, how are you guys doing physically?
A: Very well! We both were fit when we started and we have been eating well, we both take a half dozen vitamins/supplements and we try to exercise everyday 🙂 We both have callused hands and probably too much sun. Both of us have noticed that the slightest cut or sore is very slow to heal. I have had the skin crack along the thumb nails, most likely due to the very low humidity.
20 July: Day-42, Total-44; Miles-57, Total-1524
Wind, sand and fine silt were blowing into my tent at 5:30am. The raging wind outside was driving the dried silt and sand from the surface of this island under the tent fly and through the net at the doorway. I zipped the nylon cover over the door and brushed sand and dust off my gear as best I could. It was on and in everything, I could even feel grit grinding on my teeth.
Just by luck, the wind was not blowing the sand/silt toward Bill’s tent. About 8:30, Bill said the wind seemed favorable for sailing. We hustled thru breakfast and soon were on the water. It was an hour or so before the sailing was good; we hooked up and sailed along with Bill’s boat towing mine. We talked as the miles slipped by but Bill really had to concentrate on holding a course and always be prepared to spill wind from the sail if we received a good gust, as we did quite often. He had to always keep one hand on the rudder and the other on the main sheet (line to the boom which controls the amount of wind caught in the sail). So for hours he was unable to get a drink, swat bugs, etc. Additionally, since his canoe has no cleat to secure the sheet, much of the thrust from the sail is transmitted, as forward force, to the canoe through his grip on the line. Anyway, it kept him busy and he was enjoying every second of it.
I kept busy keeping my canoe aligned behind Bill’s. If the trailing canoe is allowed to swing wide, it will plow through the water as it is being pulled a bit sideways. Initially, my canoe was constantly oscillating from side to side. I rigged a bridle under the bow, which pulls low from both sides, and it eliminated the oscillation. But, wind, waves and current act a bit differently on my canoe than they do on Bill’s heavier and shorter canoe, so it still required attention to make it most efficient.
We sailed for hours, even when the wind picked up to more than 20 knots and waves were breaking over the bow. Bill was in his glory, he has carried this sailing rig almost 1500 miles, paddled a heavier boat because it is better for sailing and now he is doing what he had hoped to do all along. Also, I’m sure he felt satisfaction in helping the “team” move forward. For almost six weeks he has said that he feels like he is slowing our progress, but now we are both flying as a result of his sailing rig. We both loved the exhilaration of it all.
At midnight we found a less than level, gravel shore for a campsite, we were about a mile short of the village of Grayling. We did at least 57 miles; it was a great day.
Note: It is about 1am as I type this and the light level is so low that I can barely see the keys and cannot read the screen at all. It is amazing that the days get so much shorter each day. This is due to both the growing number of days since the solstice and our southerly movement, hence a daily decreasing latitude. It is now nearly dark between about 1am and 2:30am.
21 July: Days-43, Total-45; Miles-26, Total-1550
It was nearly 10am when a pickup truck drove to our campsite and raced his engine to alert us of his arrival. I was in my tent getting the journal and emails ready to send later in the day. When I stepped out, I found Carl, a friendly guy who drove a mile up the gravel shore to welcome us to Grayling. He had seen us set up camp after midnight. Carl told us about what we might find in the village and about the river, fishing, and local weather. Not long after he left, a red fox came trotting along the shoreline, sniffing the gravel as it moved quietly along. It must have been accustomed to humans, even though it kept its distance; it was undeterred by our presence.
Soon another pickup with Richard, Todd and Steve arrived. They also had news about the village and spun a few tales about encounters with bears and 12 to 20 foot waves on the river. We asked them where we might buy some salmon. They gave us a few ideas and told us what price to expect for smoked salmon. It was much higher than the paltry amount we had paid for fresh (unsmoked) salmon earlier.
When they left, we finished eating, had another visit by the red fox and started packing. Todd drove up in yet another pickup, this one had no windshield. He brought us some salmon; it was $25 for about 3 pounds. About what we had been told to expect.
We floated the one mile into Grayling and were met by other locals at the landing. There was a nice big sign saying, “Welcome To Grayling”. We did feel welcome and already knew some of the residents. We picked up a few items of food at the community store. While I went to the Town Office to use the pay phone, Bill went back to the canoes. Marvin is a wellness counselor and talked with me as I sent email messages; his office is in the same building. He does alcohol abuse work and I told him my wife worked in the same field. He suggested that she contact him and maybe could give him some advice.
Back at the landing, Bill had sailed off, he was checking to see what forward progress could be made tacking into the increasing headwind. After catching up with him, we decided that he would continue to tack back and forth across the wide river. I would try to stay out of some of the wind by keeping close to shore. We stayed in contact with our VHF radios. After several hours, Bill rolled up his sail and paddled with me. It seemed it took us forever to pass the Village of Anvik and it is only 20 miles from Grayling. About six miles farther, Bill spotted a good sandy campsite. We called it a day even though we had only made 26 miles beating into wind and waves. Like many of our recent campsites, there were wolf tracks in the damp sand. Maybe we will get to see one tonight?
Q: More about our physical condition. I had to terminate the previous response before completed.
A: Just a couple more observations. We both seem to be getting enough sleep, but the night paddling schedule makes it more difficult for Bill to get to sleep. Also, he has had redness and sore toes on both feet for several weeks. Possibly a reaction to the rubber-like booties he was wearing when paddling. He no longer wears them.
I feel fine but know that my legs are not being exercised enough nor is my cardio-vascular system. It will be a chore to get back in running shape after laying off this long.
To summarize: We are in great shape, given the conditions we are in.
22 July: Day-44, Total-46; Miles-34, Total-1584
No wolf sighting last night. This morning, we had a leisurely meal and decided we would leave after doing a few camp chores. I washed clothes in a plastic bucket with clear mountain stream water that was in the solar shower bag. Then I took what has become my standard bath; wade out in the river, wash all except head & neck then use the clear solar heated water to do head and hair. It works well and is a good refreshing feeling when finished.
We paddled off at about 2:30pm, it was calm, smooth and overcast. Several times in the late afternoon and evening we had a light drizzle for a half-hour or so. We paddled until about 11:30pm and found a low sand island a mile or two short of Holy Cross. There was a very strong eddy to cross to get to the sand island. The eddy circulates upstream and it was unusual to have to paddle hard to go downstream. For awhile it seemed Bill might not be able to get his more sluggish canoe across the eddy. But 20 minutes and a lot of sweat & swearing got him through. We pitched our tents on the highest part of the island just as another shower caught up with us. After getting camp established, Bill took a mid-night bath in the river.
Q: This is a follow on to a previous question from E.J. O’Brien in Korea: How do you guys manage going two or three months without beer?
A: First, Bill seldom has a drink and when he does, it is not beer. Second, I have found only one bar since leaving Dawson City in Canada, it was in Galena, AK. Also, I found two places that sold beer by the 12-pack; Circle and Tanana. I packed away a “Twelve” each place and have a beer every two or three days when relaxing after a good day’s paddle. This search for quality refreshment, remains a quest at each stop; “hope springs eternal”.
23 July: Day-45, Total-47; Miles-27, Total-1611
It was pouring rain on our tents at 5:30 am and did not let up for hours. Finally, about 1pm it eased then stopped. We packed, then paddled into the wind four miles to Holy Cross. It is another small fishing village with mostly Indians living there. This village is different because it is not right on the river. The landing is behind an island in a protected slough. Then the village is a quarter mile around a hill and not even visible from the landing. It would be very easy to miss. We saw a boat come out of the slough and knew the village was behind an island so it seemed likely. Also, we thought that slough might give us some protection from the strong headwind.
Holy Cross is a friendly little village. It sets on the side of a hill and like all the villages has only gravel roads/streets. At the Community store, we sent/received email and bought a few groceries.
We paddled another three miles to exit the slough. On the left bank about a quarter mile in front of us, were three moose, a cow and two calves. As we drifted closer, the mom and one of the gangly little ones began drinking from the river while the other was nursing. The mom spotted us and herded her two young offspring back into the thick willows.
Seeing the high wind and waves on the main channel of the river, we stopped on a sandy spot and waited for the wind to die. I sat in my canoe, opened the metal cooler that is my food box and made a huge salad from some of the veggies I had just gotten. Shortly after I had everything put away, it seemed to be calming. We decided to check it out.
Great! Wind and waves were tolerable, we were immediately in the main current and happily on our way. It was about 8:30pm. Within a few minutes, it started raining but with no headwind we were moving right along. Around 11pm, the wind increased and soon we had waves and a headwind. By 1230am it was still pouring rain and we were bucking into whitecap waves. The black cloud cover made it almost dark. As we splashed along bouncing on the choppy water, we hugged the shoreline. Bill spotted a small inlet to a little bay. We ducked into it. He checked one side for potential tent sites; I checked the other side. We both found possible sites and decided that each would pitch on the spot. It was still raining but not as hard as earlier. My tent was up in a flash, I tossed essential gear inside and backed in on top of it. My muddy, sandy feet were still outside; I poured some of my drinking water on them and dried them with my shirt. I was all set. I inflated my (still leaking) ThermaRest mattress, fluffed up the sleeping bag on top of it and listened to the rain, now coming down in torrents, on my dry (inside) tent.
It is now 12 hours later and we are still waiting for the rain to stop and the wind to ease enough to get moving again.
Q: Beth Kelso in Naples, FL wants to know about our radios.
A: We each have VHF marine, “Submersible” radios. They are guaranteed to be waterproof. Ours are made by Standard Horizon, Model HX460ss, and I got them at West Marine. They are a little larger than a pack of cigarettes. They are “line-of-sight” and the range is about 2 miles unless on the water, then maybe 4 miles. Any type of obstacle, trees, buildings etc. will decrease the range. They were pretty pricey, about $240 each. If you don’t need the “submersible” capability nor the small size, very good ones can be about half the price. These have a lithium ion rechargeable battery, which is VERY good and the radio will accept two AA alkaline batteries if you get the adapter.
I am very pleased with their performance in our situation. My only complaint is that Bill won’t answer my calls unless he has his radio turned on.
24 July: Days-46, Total-48; Miles-37, Total-1648
We waited until nearly 2pm for the rain to stop, that’s over 13 hours in a pretty small tent. We were ready to get on with meals, drying equipment and paddling.
Bill yelled across the water to me that a cow moose and a young one were walking in the green flats behind my tent. They were about a half-mile away; we watched them for several minutes.
The rain slacked and we quickly packed and were on our way. It was 2pm. The water was much smoother than it was when we pulled into our little cove last night. The sky was heavily overcast and threatening more rain. It soon came, we zipped up and paddled on, thankful for calm water and a hint of a tailwind.
An hour or so later, we were talking of Betty’s being from Minnesota and a voice from behind says “Minnesota, we’re from Minnesota”. I turned and there were two kayaks, one of the guys said “You must be Swamp Eagle”. My mind was still in the Alaskan wilderness and was frantically searching for an explanation. Finally, I sputtered, “You must be Ron”. It was Ron Severs and Dan Stangel from Minnesota, south of Duluth. We had never met before, but I had called Ron about four months ago when I heard that he would also be paddling the Yukon. We had talked on the phone for nearly an hour comparing notes and exchanging addresses, etc.
These guys started about two weeks after our departure, but we knew the much faster kayaks would eventually overtake us. We all talked at once in the excitement of meeting “friends” in such a remote setting. Soon, Dan and I were paddling ahead trading information about our Yukon experiences, while Bill fought the growing waves and he and Ron got to know each other. It was a grand time; this special meeting of kindred spirits and all faced with the same challenges, hardships and joys. After an hour or so, Dan and I waited for Bill and Ron to catch up. We said our good-byes a let these two in there swifter kayaks move on down the river. We promised to let each other know when we finished and each invited the others to visit if ever in their part of the country.
Bill and I were on a high for hours, reliving the meeting and telling what each had discussed during this short but special time. The rain stopped, we had a light tailwind and the water was smooth; life was good.
For hours we just missed rain showers that were all around us. Gradually, we could see a bit of a promise of the sun. About 9pm we saw a cow moose and a calf enter the water on the right shore about a half-mile in front of us. Unbelievably, they were attempting to swim this mile wide channel right in front of us. As we drifted, we grabbed our cameras. One photo and my camera was rewinding; “Drats”, the spare film was packed away in the front of the canoe. Bill also had to reload, fortunately he did have film available. The moose were great swimmers, the cow swam with much of her body out of the water. Finally, she saw us and they both stopped. With their big ears trained on us, they watched for a long minute then turned back. We watched as they exited the water and walked across the sand into the underbrush.
It was another great night to paddle. The low sun was behind the mountains and reflecting off clouds in the still mostly clouded sky. An array of colors lined the clouds above the horizon and anywhere the sun could slip through. We paddled through this vast, open, calm beauty until about 12:30. We selected a sandy island with big mountains behind and to one side for our camp. The light got lower but the colors continued to glow as we pitched our tents and turned-in. It was another great day on the Yukon.
Q: A couple of folks have asked about the river at our current location.
A: When the river is contained between two banks it is now about 2 or 3 miles wide. If there are islands or large bays it can be over 5 miles wide. The current varies, in the wide areas it can be only 1 or 2 mph but when in a single channel it may reach 6 mph. It is very silty and we can only see about 2 inches below the surface. The water temperature is now up to the 50’s. There is usually a cut-bank on the outside of bends and a mud or sand shore on the inside. The shores and banks are littered with trees, limbs and roots that were scoured out by the spring ice and have been caught on sandbars or the edges. Black spruce, birch and aspen have been the dominant trees on the higher ground and they cover the hills and mountainsides. Willow and other smaller scrub are in lower wet areas and on the lower islands.
25 July: Days-47, Total-49; Miles-34, Total-1682
There were a few showers in the morning but they stopped by 11am. We used this opportunity to dry gear, wash clothes, bathe and cook some great chow. Down by our canoes, Bill found four bottles of “Alaska” beer and a note scratched in the sand. The large letters said, “From the MN-ANS”. Obviously, Ron & Dave had paid us a visit earlier in the morning. They knew we were paddling on a night schedule and let us sleep while leaving their calling cards. We must have passed their camp last night without knowing it; quite possibly they were on the opposite side of an island.
For days, Bill has been promising a surprise the first morning we had time to cook breakfast. He whipped up a large raisin bran cake in a Teflon skillet. He keeps turning the dough just before it starts to burn, then dishes it up in a big crumbly pile while it is still a bit doughy. It was absolutely wonderful. It is a full size cake mix by Sun Maid and there was plenty for the two of us.
We were paddling by 2:30pm. It was cloudy, but no rain. Soon we were in the main current and moving along at 5mph. The Ilikat Mountains were on our right, they are probably less than two thousand feet high. The obvious tree line is about midway up their slope. A clear mountain stream provided water to top off our drinking water containers, fill my solar shower bag, and chill two jumbo Snickers bars. Wearing sandals and wading in the ice cold water makes for fast work. As we paddled off it took 30 minutes for our feet to rewarm; it was invigorating.
Apparently, Dog Fish Landing consists of only a couple houses. We weren’t sure when we passed it. Russian Mission is a large village. It is the first Eskimo community we have reached. They use a different type boat than used by the Athabaskan Indians. The Eskimos use large open boats with “V” or “semi-V” hulls made of either aluminum or fiberglass. They are powered by large outboard motors, 50-200 horsepower. The Indians were using somewhat smaller flat bottom boats with a small cab/hut attached to protect the driver and passengers. The Eskimo boats appear to be more sea worthy.
It was about 7pm as we passed Russian Mission without stopping. Some young boys sat on top of a large metal shipping container and watched as we paddled downstream. The village was scattered over a hillside. Roof tops and large satellite antennas stood out with the setting sun in the background. We are now in Eskimo country!
A large sandy island presented itself at about 11pm. It was our home for the night. Not more than a half-hour after we were in our tents, it started sprinkling rain. Later, it was pouring. I did not realize that a fine mist was blowing through the mesh at the foot of the tent. All items at that end of my little house got wet, including the foot of my sleeping bag. I zipped the door closed, dried things off the best I could and went back to sleep.
26 July: Days-47, Total-50; Miles-0, Total-1682
It is now 11:30am and rain showers are still blowing across our island. Between showers, Bill and I checked the canoes, grabbed some snacks and the two-way radios then crawled back in our tents.
There is a 500-ft wide expanse of sand before any higher ground, which has some small bushes. Bill chose to camp about a hundred feet from the river’s edge, I pitched on the more distant higher ground. Usually we are in closer proximity and can easily shout between tents. Hopefully, we can get underway within the next couple of hours and the inconvenience of the distance won’t be an issue.
Later…the winds are increasing.
Even though both Bill and I set aside three months for this trip, we have both adjusted our calendars as we got ahead of schedule. Our revised plan does not have much flex time in it. Bill has some friends and relatives he wants to visit on the way back to Florida. Then he will hustle to finish and possibly sell the “Spec” home in which he was temporarily living. Then, he will complete several other activities in time to enter Law School in New Zealand in the spring, their winter term.
I adjusted to the advanced schedule by asking Betty to meet me in Anchorage. The best available flight arrives on 5 August, so now I have a new goal.
A few weeks ago as we were paddling the hours away, we talked of other remote places, in Alaska, that we would like to visit. Bill has wanted to see Nome and I have wanted to go to Point Barrow, the northern most point in North America. We decided that IF we complete the canoe trip with enough time remaining, we will fly to both destinations. We would like to do this from Emmonak after we paddle back from the Bering Sea. All this, maybe, before we fly to Anchorage. And, if it doesn’t work out, we’ll put it on our long list of things we would like to do.
It is now 12:30pm and the rain has stopped, but the increasing wind continues to blow and whip up sizable waves. We continue to wait.
At 3pm, the wind is at least 30kts and some of the gusts maybe 50kts. We just baled water of the canoes, waves had washed some in around my canoe cover. Also, we reinforced the tent stakes and added more tie downs. I placed some driftwood on the windward edge of my tent to help keep sand from blowing under the fly.
Inside the tent is kind of interesting. The wind howls around the sides and there are lots of flapping sounds, even though it was pitched ‘tight as a drum’. Sometimes the top is blown almost a foot off center. Both of our tents are made by North Face and are expedition models, VE-25, built to withstand high winds (mine is a smaller, mountain version). The weakest link is the sand that holds the tent pegs. The tents seem to be holding up well, maybe better than I am. One time when I went out to check the canoes, I could hardly walk, plus sand was blowing across the island in eerie waves. It is almost surreal.
I have now finished my Jack London book. Bill finished his “Shadows On The Koyukuk” and loaned it to me. He has one more book before reading the Contract Law text he brought along.
It is now 10pm, the wind has been strong for 22 hours and no sign of relief. Sure hope we’re not here long enough that I am reduced to reading Contract Law.
“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.” Kodi
27 July: Day-47, Total-51; Miles-0, Total-1682
It is 5:30am, the wind has backed off a bit, maybe a good sign.
Now 7:00am, a shower just blew through, the wind is still blowing and gusting hard at times but nothing like yesterday. The water is rough as a cob; waves are 2-3 feet with white caps everywhere. It makes me glad to get back in the tent, yet again.
At about 7:45, Bill delivered a large, hot bowl of “something” and hurried back to his tent, about 500 feet away. It had just started raining again. In the bowl seems to be a delicious mixture of mashed potatoes, carrots, onions and bacon bits. Maybe a couple of other ingredients are also in there. It was a welcome breakfast treat…and room service is a nice touch too.
Noon: It is raining hard, not much wind but waves are still rolling.
3pm: Maybe it is starting to clear. It was only misting as I checked the canoes. The waves seem to be subsiding, but still too rough to paddle. Also, it looks as if it is raining all around us. We decided to wait another hour to see if the clearing trend continues.
4pm: It is raining and blowing like crazy. The waves have increased and we are happy to be off the water and in dry tents.
6pm: The wind has changed from SSW to NW and is about 10kts but has gusts twice that. The waves are still rolling large and it is overcast and threatening all around. We wait.
Bill just delivered a large bowl containing a great mixture of beans, black eyed peas, rice and other things??
8:30pm: The water continues to get calmer but rainstorms loom upwind of us. The wind is now out of the North. We have decided that as much as we both would like to get moving the prudent plan is to wait until morning.
9:30pm: A rainstorm with gusty winds is passing over us, Glad to be in a tent.
Midnight: Just finished the wonderful book, Shadows On The Koyukuk by Sidney Huntington. It is a great story of his adventurous life (1915-present) growing up as an Athabaskan Indian in the remote Alaskan Frontier. We met Sidney while we were in Galena a couple weeks ago. Bill got his book while there and finished it yesterday, today was my turn. Now maybe we can leave.
I just checked outside. It is beautiful; clear, zero wind and calm water. The midnight sun is reflecting soft colors off the scattered clouds and the stillness is wonderful. I’m tempted to roust Bill and suggest that we leave now, however, it will be nearly dark in an hour. Best to get an early start in the morning.
1am: I was awakened by high winds and the sound of waves rolling on the shore. It doesn’t look promising, we’ll see in the morning.
28 July: Day-48, Total-52; Miles-60, Total-1742
Wind and waves increased during the early morning, now the wind is about 20 kts, gusting to 30 kts and waves are about two feet. This is the upper margin of our comfort level. Because it is a quartering tail wind it is probably doable. But, if we round a bend or the wind shifts a few degrees and it becomes a headwind we would be in trouble. We decide to wait.
The wind shift has pushed water higher on our shore and turned our canoes. We moved our tiedowns farther inland and resecured them.
Bill loaned me his “The Great Alaska Nature Fact Book” and borrowed my book of Jack London stories. Guess Contract Law will have to wait.
Noon: The waves have smoothed considerably, we decide to watch it for an hour and go if the improvement continues.
2pm: We are back on the water. It feels good to be underway again. Bill had rigged his sail and the wind is ideal. Soon we have the towline in place and are cruising. I have found that paddling enough to keep slack in the tow line is about as easy as just keeping my canoe in a straight line trailing behind Bill’s. This also allows Bill’s canoe to move a little faster. Then, when I need to refer to the map or GPS, get food, water, etc, my boat just settles into the tow mode. And, after my diversion, I can resume paddling.
We continued sailing for several hours averaging about 5 mph. Then in the early evening the wind eased and we turned more northerly. At this point Bill sometimes could tack and other times he would paddle to assist the light wind. During these times it is best if I cut loose.
As we passed Ohog, a boat with an Eskimo family motored alongside us and we talked for several minutes. They were very pleasant and gave us some helpful information.
About 11:30pm, as the village of Marshall was just coming into view, a boat with two men and a woman powered up to us. They were all Eskimo and were very friendly.
We paddled past Marshall about midnight, the village looked very inviting. It is situated on a smooth sloping tundra hillside with barren, green tundra all around it. The town was alive with activity; kids shouted “Hello, out there” repeatedly and we could hear vehicles and someone hammering. Soon a boat came alongside, a young guy and two girls, all young Eskimos talked and drifted with us for a mile or two.
It was 1:30am and nearly dark. We could see the village lights of Marshall reflecting on the straight wide channel behind us. We paddled just off the right bank, half looking for a potential campsite and just happy to be putting in some miles.
The light level was now increasing and Bill checked out a possible site in a slough off to the right. We pitched high on the bank in the grass, it was 4am.
29 July: Day-49, Total-53; Miles-38, Total-1780
At 10am Bill was cooking his meal of the day and I started working on yesterday’s Journal entry. Later, I whipped up some scrambled eggs, smoked salmon and onions. This with instant mashed potatoes & onions was great. It was all washed down with a couple of large mugs of coffee while Bill worked on his diary.
We cleaned some gear, organized the cockpit of our canoes and were off. It was a clear day with a partial cloud cover and a light breeze.
I plugged the coordinates for Pilot Village into my GPS and we paddled in that direction. As it is more and more prone to do, the river widened with large bays and long wide turns. It is often three or four miles across. And, to further confound navigation, it is sometimes dotted with islands creating multiple channels.
Somehow, we never spotted Pilot Village. We are back on a 1:1,400,000 map and it is impossible to extract precise coordinates. Plus, with no detail, the village could be up a side stream a mile or more but still be depicted as on the river. Also, the village could have been abandoned years ago with little trace of it remaining.
Bill was able to sail some of the time and at other times he would paddle, with the sail providing a welcome assist. He had to tack much of the day, so I paddled a straighter course along the right bank. On a rare downwind run, I paddled alongside and we talked until a bend in the river or a wind shift would force Bill to tack in a zigzag course again.
As we paralleled a sandy shore, I saw a beautiful red fox trotting along far ahead of us. The sun sent long shafts of light through the clouds in the Northwest. The fox enjoyed one of these shafts as it patrolled the shoreline.
We had decided to paddle until about 10:30pm then look for a campsite. At 10:15pm, I found a small cove with sand banks and a large flat area with knee-high vegetation. I radioed Bill that we had a home for the night and a few minutes later he sailed around the bend and tacked into our little harbor.
After pitching our tents, I had a couple of “Alaska” beers with smoked salmon and chatted with Bill. A stiff breeze kept the bugs someplace else as low light shining over the horizon and reflecting off high clouds made for a spectacular sky. It was a good day.
30 July: Days-50, Total-54; Miles-34, Total-1814
It rained hard during the early morning. By 10am it was only misting and small waves were on the river with a light following tailwind. We decided to depart without cooking in the light rain. Bill tacked while towing my canoe. It was slow going but we made steady progress with little effort. We stopped at Pilots Station to send/receive email and to reload on Snickers. What a friendly village. Four young fourth grade boys welcomed us from the shore and walked along as we drifted to a landing. They asked about our trip and wanted to know where we lived, we told them Florida. As we were walking to the town’s only store, the boys followed along telling us about the town and asking lots of questions. Bill carried the trash he had accumulated to a barrel. Seeing this, I said, “Damn, I forgot to bring my trash”. One of the boys asked me if everyone from Florida used swear words. Slightly embarrased, I told him no and that I should stop doing that myself.
We found a pay phone, but the only store was sold-out of Snickers. Everyone was friendly and we felt comfortable in their village; we like Eskimo country.
As we were preparing to depart, a small group gathered by our canoes. A few kids, plus Dan, and Tony & Irene, “Wings”. They gave us lots of information; Tony was quite knowledgeable about many of our areas of interest. They wished us well and we pushed off.
More tacking, backing and forth, and soon we could see Pitkas Point and St. Marys. Even though St. Marys is a larger town, it is a mile or two up another river so we elected to pass on by it. We camped on a great beach site across about two miles of water from Pitkas Point village. It was breezy, the sun appeared and began to dry our gear. The sunset was awesome. Bill and I stood watching the sky and the water while chewing on some thin slices of smoked salmon. I toasted Ron Severs and Dan Stangle as I finished the last two “Alaska” beers they left for us. Life is good, we are blessed!
31 July: Days-51, Total-55; Miles-50, Total-1864
It was a cool evening, good for sleeping. I awoke at 5:30am, couldn’t sleep so answered some email and finished yesterday’s Journal entry. It was such a cool, beautiful morning that I built a campfire on the beach and started making some coffee and a huge breakfast. Soon Bill was out fixing a “meal-of-the-day” with smoked salmon, macaroni, rice, onion, garlic, etc. We planned to share this great flavor dish during the day.
We dried our tents and other gear, then I had a chilly river bath. Great!
Paddling started about 11am and by 3pm we were passing Mountain Village. A boat with a local Eskimo fisherman and his family, floated alongside. He told about the village and the route on to Fish Village.
This great river has been steadily widening. It has been expanding at an even greater rate recently. We now guess it to be about 3 miles at the narrowest sections and perhaps six or eight at the wider parts. It is often difficult to tell which is the real shoreline and which is a large island. Now it most often looks like a large lake or bay with the far shore five miles or more away.
In the morning, the wind was not much help; we both paddled. But now, on these wide-open expanses, we can sail and tow. I try to paddle just enough to keep the towline slack. However, when I take a break to look at the map or GPS we just keep going, pretty nice.
We have a little over 35 miles to Fish Village, so we will look for a campsite about 10pm. The water is calm but the wind is only of marginal help; we are moving slower than usual. These wide areas have less current and the main channel, if there is one, is hard to find.
The water is now choppy with some whitecaps; we have been looking for a good place to camp for an hour. If the waves keep rolling me from the side, I will need to cut loose so I can quarter into them with less rolling action. Bill’s canoe has a wide flotation sponson along the gunwale on each side, plus has outriggers with floats that extend about two feet on either side. All this makes his wider boat nearly impossible to roll over in anything but the wildest storm. Actually, he now only has an outrigger on the port side, the other got knocked off at Ruby. This shore is a 30 foot high mud bank. It looks flat on top so we paused and Bill pulled his way to the top. It is muskeg, thick spongy clumps with knee deep voids between. I have tried to hike on muskeg, not easy. The locals once told me to just wait until it is frozen with a few feet on snow. We decide not to wait. Mid-night sun is beautiful. Sunset lasts for a couple of hours. It is nearly dark and we spot what we think is an island with a sandy shore about two miles toward the center of the river. We sail/paddle and get really close as a storm cloud with lightning looms a mile or so away. Crunch, we are on a shallow sand bar a quarter mile from the shore; drats! It is nearly dark and we couldn’t see it until we were part of it. By standing in the canoe, I think I see a way around the long sand bar. We back off into deeper water and make a half-mile end run to the sandy beach.
Tents were up in a flash, it was 1:15am; we zonked.
1 August 2003: Days-52, Total-56; Miles-22, Total-1886
It was a peaceful morning. The waves were no longer crashing on the shore, the sun was shining, and birds were expressing their discomfort with our presence. I made coffee and a big breakfast of spanish rice, salmon and onions. Later, Bill arrived and worked on his journal. We were on our way about 12:15pm.
We paddled into the wind, then towed, then paddled. We were bucking 20 knot headwinds and making very slow progress. It is frustrating to be so close to the end and go so slowly.
Likely campsites are few and far between so we decided to start looking by 8pm. About 8:30pm we skimmed over a few inches of water covering a sandbar to a little, mostly sand, beachette. The top of the low bank above the shore was covered with horsetails and suitable for our tents. It was home for the night.
The dry driftwood logs against the bank became my kitchen. With only a few days of camping remaining, I have been trying to use already opened items. This sometimes makes for unusual but, so-far, always good meals. Tonight it was: dried egg mix, dehydrated potatoes, precooked ham slices, onions, garlic, olive oil and some leftover dry milk powder, butter buds, bacon bits, etc. It was great!
After dinner, I broke out a 5-liter box of wine that I got in Tanana. We each filled a coffee mug and talked of the trip and how we would adjust back to the “other world”. We turned in about 9pm in anticipation of an early start. We hope to make it to Emmonak tomorrow.
2 August: Days-53, Total-57; Miles-21, Total-1907
It was a great night’s sleep on the thick, soft horses tail growing where we had pitched our tents. We were on our way before 7am.
The water was calm and a light breeze felt good as we warmed up to the paddle. By 8am, a stronger wind was putting a chop on the surface of the river. At 10am we had two foot waves and a steady 15 knot headwind. We decided to sail and tow my canoe. This meant endless tacking legs with little forward progress. Of course, the alternative was endless paddling into wind and waves with little forward progress.
As the seas grew and our point of sail changed, the waves were belting my canoe sideways. Then, as we came about, the towline got fouled around my leeboard. When the line pulled tight it nearly flipped me. If a big wave had rolled me at the same time, Bill might have been towing an upside down canoe without occupant. I yelled to have Bill pull the quick release; he set me free in an instant. I then paddled close to the shore where the waves are not as strong while Bill continued to tack.
The anticipation was high as we got nearer Emo (Emmonak). We knew we were getting close but the channel on the right side seemed to never come. Finally, a local fisherman, Jacob Kamerof, told us it was around the next point; about five miles.
A right turn into this channel of the river, calmer wind, no waves and we slowly sailed into Emo. Kids on the shore welcomed us as we passed by. A woman and her family were sitting in their boat with recently purchased groceries. She said, “Welcome to the last town on the Yukon”. Emo stretches for over a mile along the river. The bank has been reinforced with large rocks. This helps prevent erosion, but makes it difficult to land a loaded canoe. We ‘made-do’ and set off to explore the town. At the town’s only open restaurant, we met the owner, Dave McCabe. He really made us feel welcome and was eager to hear about our trip. He said we could use the shower in his home attached to the cafe. He suggested we camp across the narrow river channel on an island. We promised to return after we pitched our tents on the island and checked on some other things.
The pay phone in the grocery store was out of order and the one at the laundromat had been removed last month due to abuse. The only other phone was a 15 minute walk and they closed in five minutes. Just outside the laundromat, a young man approached us. It was Kiyohiko Hachiya from Kyushu, Japan, the Japanese canoeist that we kept hearing was in front of us. He started two weeks before us on the Teslin River which flows into the Yukon. His English was better than my Japanese and we had a good, if somewhat strained, talk. We invited him to eat with us at the cafe but he said he was already fixing his meal at his campsite. He had received permission to pitch his tent in someone’s small back yard.
Back at the restaurant, Bill and I had a large order of burger and fries. Kevin was cooking and Dave was taking the night off because it was his birthday. Dave invited us back into his living quarters. It looked like a pretty typical bachelor pad; Kevin and Alex, who is deaf, also live there.
While Bill leafed through some very interesting albums and talked with Dave, I took a great shower. Then Bill hit the shower and Dave told me about some of the fascinating things he has done: worked on a crabbing ship, lived in Russia for two years, lived by himself at a remote seafood processing plant during the cold dark arctic winters, earns an extra $7,000 a year on his winter trapline, owns a bar in Thailand, now being run by his Thai fiancee, and is an ‘on-call’ river pilot that guides barges and other ships through the tricky sandbars of the Yukon.
We helped Dave celebrate his birthday and, later, Kenny Lee joined us. Kenny is an Eskimo hunter and fisherman who agreed to transport us and our canoe from the Bering Sea back to Emo. We decided on a meeting point and we would monitor his channel on our VHF radios.
It was nearly midnight and we wanted to get an early start, we excused ourselves and canoed back to our island camp. We had noticed Dave was running low, so we grabbed some party juice and quickly paddled back to drop it off with him.
3 August: Days-54, Total-58; Miles-13, Total-1920
Hot coffee, a bite for breakfast and we were ready for the last day of our trip. I unloaded everything out of my canoe and we both used it for this short trip to the Bering Sea.
With us both paddling and without a heavy load of gear, we seemed to fly over the water. After a short couple of hours, hints of the open sea ahead began to tease us. The excitement was growing. We saw what we thought was the small uninhabited island that was our meeting place. Fortunately, the Bering Sea was calm this day. It was actually calmer than some of the inland waters just five miles away.
Using the binoculars, I spotted the red & white, 20 foot high, beacon tower. The canoe surged ahead as we both, unintentionally, gave each stroke a little more beef. Bill was not nearly as enthusiastic as I thought he would be for the finish. He said nothing, but I suspected he was in pain from the pinched nerve in the back of his neck.
As we got closer, the tower was obscured by short vegetation in the foreground. At this time, only I had seen the tower, and that was with the aid of binos in a bouncing canoe. Bill became increasingly concerned that we might not be paddling to the correct island. Then he shouted, “That’s it, I see the tower”. Just the top of the red & white checkered tower was visible between some of the vegetation. It was our island. We paddled to the exact meeting spot and were one half-hour early.
It was cool and overcast. We looked across the open Bering Sea and took some pictures. After shaking hands, we mostly just stood blankly looking at this wide expanse of remote sea that we have paddled toward for nearly two months.
When we decided it was real, we gathered some damp driftwood and started a fire. It was nearly two hours later when I spotted a dot casting a bow wake and heading directly at us. Soon, Kenny Lee and Specialist Martin Augline beached their boat directly in front of us. Martin is in the Alaska National Guard and maintains coastal familiarization by riding with local fishermen and hunters. He volunteered to use my camera to document the occasion and took nearly a roll of film during the next half-hour.
We all quietly talked for awhile then loaded my canoe in the large open boat. Without a word spoken, we turned our backs on the open sea and motored the 13 miles back to Emo. It was over.