1 July: Days-24, Total-25; Miles-45,Total-908
It was a sunny, clear day on the Yukon and we made good time on smooth water. We planned to stop early so Bill could catch up his journal. He will snail mail it to Betty and she will type it for the website.
About 2pm our plans went haywire. I saw Bill, in his canoe, go around a small point, when I went around I saw that the flow split and there were two possible routes. I was being pulled into the smaller flow on the left, I could only see a short distance before the flow wrapped around a sandbar, but did not see Bill. I pulled out of that flow and paddled in the direction of the other possible route. This was a large wide open area, but still no sight of Bill. Even scanning the area with binoculars showed nothing. I knew he could not have crossed the large open area in the short time he had disappeared around the point so I concluded that he also was pulled in the smaller flow and must have been on the backside of the sandbar when I looked minutes before. Not wanting to fall too far behind, I hustled back into the smaller flow. A short distance later it straightened and I did not see Bill down the long opening. Per our plan for such events, I switched on the two-way radio and tried calling Bill, nothing heard. I pulled into an eddy and seconds later Bill called me. After some discussion we determined that Bill had gone on the larger route and pulled in to the shore to wait for me.
At this point it would not be easy for either of us to go back upstream to connect with the other. We decided that we would both continue down stream and after going around an island or two we should connect. That did not work out as we had hoped. We then decided that we would both continue to ride the flow downstream. I would wait until I could be sure that Bill was leading, as my faster canoe would eventually overtake him. We would meet at Stevens Village, about 100 miles downstream, if all else failed.
The last radio call I received was Bill telling me that he could see a large, multi-story building in the distance. About a half-hour later I could see the building. It might have been at the Beaver Airstrip. The town of Beaver has a kind of flowing harbor separated from the main channel of the Yukon by a series of sandbars two or three miles long. I was too far downstream to properly enter the harbor flow. Thinking that Bill might have hit it just right and might be waiting for me in Beaver, I entered the downstream end and paddled against the current until I found a place to pull along the bank. I tied up in a mudhole and climbed up the bank, I was at an old sawmill. After a half-mile walk I was in the middle of downtown Beaver. Bill’s canoe was not at the shore. Beaver has two stores, one closed minutes before I got there and the other would open in half an hour. The only other commercial building was the laundromat, I used the phone there to send email messages and call Betty.
When the store finally opened I found almost nothing that was on my list, no veggies, no Coleman Fuel, and no olive oil. I quickly paid for a couple of items and dashed the half-mile back to my canoe in hopes of catching up with Bill. As I was pushing off I realized that I had left my reading glasses back at the store. Not wanting another half-hour delay, I decided that I would call or write the Shanes who own the store and have the glasses mailed to me. In the meantime I can use one of the two spares I have along. As I pushed off in about a foot of water, the mud on the bottom refused to release either me or my sandal. When I did get my foot out it was without sandal. A very muddy, time consuming fishing session finally recovered the thing. Whew! What next?
Now flowing out of the harbor with the current and organizing the canoe cockpit clutter, I found I was also missing my hat. Now this is serious. After a minute of thought (and about 300 feet farther downstream), I knew I had to go back to get both hat and glasses. So, fight the current, play in the mud, walk another mile in wet sandals that have already rubbed my feet raw in places, just to get back where I am now.
Meanwhile, the good folks back at the store found both hat and glasses and quickly took them to the town landing just in front of their store, not knowing that I was a half-mile downstream pulled in among some weeds at the old sawmill. Thinking that I had already cleared the harbor, they had two young guys on a four-wheeler zip out of town a couple of miles to a point where they could intercept me as I paddled by. However, instead of floating along downstream, I was trudging back to their store. They told me the boys were instructed to be back by 7pm for dinner. So I waited, and about a half-hour later they returned.
It was 7:23pm when I finally floated away. I paddled hard but knew I could not make up the time lost. Bill and I usually start looking for a campsite about 3:30pm, I hoped to spot his canoe pulled up at an island and see his highly visible yellow tent. It was not to be. At 10:30pm I found a small island and pitch my little camp. Maybe tomorrow.
2 July: Day-25, Total-26; Miles-40, Total-948
On the water before 7am, it is overcast with very light wind, a good day to paddle. Around each bend I looked for Bill, no luck.
One time when searching with the binos, an arctic tern swooped at me and grazed the top of my hat. Both the terns and the seagulls often dive at us, probably trying to protect nearby nests.
About 11am it started raining. The rain and the wind increased as the day went on. At about 3pm a squall blew through with winds at 30 kts, white caps and rain blowing sideways. Fortunately, I was only a few hundred feet from shore. I made a dash for a gravel bar and held in an eddy for about 30 minutes when the wind eased up a bit. Since the water was too rough to travel, I found a spot and put my tent up in the rain, tossed in my gear, some cold food and crawled in behind it. The rain came down even harder as I ate the miscellaneous items that were grabbed from the pantry box in a flash. Either Betty or my sister, Mae, had given me a couple packs of precooked bacon slices. This was the first time I tried them, they are great! Two other items rounded out the meal; a bottle of cheddar squeeze cheese and two small packs of crackers & peanut butter. What great go-togethers. There were about 15 slices of bacon, when all the crackers were gone, I squeezed the cheese directly on the bacon. Sure tasted good on a cold rainy night after being wet for hours.
No sign of Bill all day. I must have gone by him when passing an island or we could have selected different channels at times. Or, he may be pushing trying to catch up with me but probably not because I told him on the radio that I would wait until I was sure he was in front of me then catch up to him. Also, he should know I’m behind him because he saw the buildings in Beaver before I did. Anyway, we should link up tomorrow in Stevens Village, about 30 miles downstream.
3 July: Days-26, Total-27; Miles-35, Total-983
It was good to get a good night’s sleep. It rained until at least 1am. This morning it was clouded over and windy, but no rain. A lot of my gear was wet so I hung it in the wind and waited until 8am to start. Then I tied some clothing to the canoe cover to dry as I paddled. I was beating into a strong headwind most of the day but only got rained on twice, less than an hour each time.
Unfortunately, our maps for this portion of the river are the pits, a 1:1,400,000 Delorme. The same map sheet goes to within 25 miles of Prudhoe Bay on the Beaufort Sea. It is not much better than a roadmap and there is very little detail. However, all this water is eventually going to the Bering Sea so if we just follow the flow it will get us there. Several times I thought Stevens Village must be around the next bend. Finally, I saw a log cabin and yelled but I didn’t expect an answer, as it looked abandoned. Just a short distance later there was a nice looking log house, again I yelled but no answer, there were also some out buildings and an old log cabin with a sod roof. Not wanting to mistakenly pass Stevens Village, I pulled the canoe to the bank and walked up the steps to the house. Lots of dogs were barking, I only saw a little one but could hear bigger ones tied or penned behind the house. I counted 17 rifles/shotguns on the front porch leaning against the house and that was what I saw from a distance, it looked like more were on the other side. Getting no answer to my shouted greetings, I canoed on downstream hoping there was more to Stevens Village than this.
I thought I saw someone in red on a sandbar way ahead. The binos revealed that it might be a Quayle, a Bill Quayle. Then the most beautiful yellow tent came into view. I quickly called on the radio and Bill directed me into the neatest little cove behind a gravel bar.
We spent the next couple hours catching up on what each of us had been going through while Bill helped me put up my tent and I cooked some pasta. As I ate, Bill read me his journal entries (starting at Whitehorse) that he had written to send to Betty for typing and posting on the website.
Somehow, Bill had thought that I was ahead of him and he was hurrying to catch me or at least not have me wait long for him. Guess we will have to work on our communications (and mind reading).
We both acknowledged what a relief it was to link up again and to know that the other was safe. Tomorrow, we will fine-tune our procedures should we get separated again.
All’s well!
4 July 2003 – Independence Day, Day-27, Total-28; Miles-40, Total-1023
A great day for our Birthday! We used some time this morning to cook, organize and chat while we waited until we felt Stevens Village might be alive. We were at their landing at 8:30 and up the bank we went with our water jugs, dirty clothes and soap & towel for showers. As we looked down the gravel streets, nothing was stirring. Then we heard someone crying out in pain, around a corner a young Indian guy was holding his arm while another guy tried to help him. We walked to them and asked about the problem. They said the guy had just fallen and dislocated his elbow. They wanted to know if we could relocate it. BOY, WHAT AN OPPORTUNITY! Having just completed a comprehensive Wilderness First Aid Course this past May, this is my first chance to practice. As I got close to see the injury, my observation was that the guy reeked of alcohol. I told the friend how he could try to relocate the elbow and Bill & I quickly moved on. At the laundromat, we filled our water containers. While there we talked with Mark, a heavy equipment operator who has been working on the new airfield since February. His family continues to live at their home near Tok, AK, several hundred miles away. He told us that the town no longer has a payphone. We decided we would do laundry at the next stop when we could use a phone and get a meal at a restaurant. We also learned that the “injured” guy and his friend have been on a three day binge.
As we floated by a half dozen little cabins on the way out of town, we could hear our injured friend cussing up a storm. When he saw us float by, he came outside cussing at us. His parting words were something about us being on Tribal land without permission and that we could get shot. All this at the top of his lungs and spiced with four letter words. Then I saw him and some of his buddies dropped a rocket flare (fireworks) in a pipe and fired it over our heads. We kept moving.
Soon the terrain started changing, we were entering an area with low mountains and we were about to flow through a canyon. It was a great feeling to have the Yukon Flats behind us and to have the mountainous walls overlooking the river.
This area has more river traffic; there was almost none before. We met an interesting couple Dave Dirk & Sabine Kocks, both from Germany. They were in a Dory like boat, similar to an old wooden lifeboat. It is rigged with a mast for sailing. Dave made it himself at Lake Bennett just like those following the Gold Rush. He started making it about five years ago and has spent the past three summers coming down the Yukon in it. Ten years ago he built a raft and floated down the Yukon on it.
Our destination for the day was the Dalton Highway, which parallels the Alaska Pipeline all the way to Prudhoe Bay. It is the only road that crosses the Yukon from Carmacks to the Bering Sea. Bill drove this road to Prudhoe about three years ago I drove it about 11 years ago.
We stopped at a place Dave suggested about a quarter mile upstream of the pipeline. As we finished setting up camp, Dave & Sabine drifted up. We had a great time talking with them about their adventures on the Yukon. While walking on the shore we saw some large bear tracks. Our contribution to our Nation’s birthday party was to share my last two beers and fire a red flare cluster from my emergency flare-gun.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMERICA!
Tomorrow morning it will be breakfast at the restaurant by the bridge.
5 July: Days-28, Total-29; Miles-20, Total-1043
What a great breakfast at the restaurant/motel/gas station/way station on the Dalton Highway, a 450 mile gravel road from Fairbanks to Prudhoe Bay. Two over easy, bacon, hash browns, a sliced tomato, toast, OJ, coffee and blueberry pie with ice cream got the day started. Gotta come back here.
While I was taking a shower the folks at the motel, et al, washed, dried and folded our grungy clothes. A rather strange thing happened in the shower room. There are three shower stalls in a row and they, along with a couple of commodes are elevated about a foot higher than the floor. This is probably to protect the pipes from freezing in winter. Anyway, while showering I was thinking about getting all scrubbed up and would have clean clothes to put on, then I thought about my wide brimmed hat that was really dirty and sweat stained. So I reached out, grabbed it and soaped it up good. Well, the water temperature fluctuates wildly depending on who else is drawing water; sometimes ice cold, then about right, then really hot. But it really doesn’t matter too much because it doesn’t flow any too fast either and it’s easy to step back until it is tolerable. After washing my hat there wasn’t a good place to put it so it would drain and still hold its shape. It seemed reasonable to just put it on my head and finish showering. Meanwhile, some guy had entered the shower next door. A couple of minutes later there was a loud metal clanking on the floor, a louder yell, a tremendous splashing thud, more yelling, moaning and some profanity. I stepped out of the shower to see what was happening. Virtually at my feet is a grossly overweight guy thrashing around naked on the floor trying to get up but everything was wet and slick. As he was shouting “Don’t touch me I can get up by myself”, two people ran in to see what the commotion was about. The huge fat guy finally got up and explained that the metal shower head had fallen off and hit his toe as really hot water now gushing out unrestricted scalded him. He slipped trying to get out of the way and fell over that one foot elevation onto the floor. One of the guys who rushed in asked if the big guy was ok, then looked at me, also sans clothing, and said “Nice hat” and left.
When I returned to the dining area, Dave & Sabrine had joined Bill and were ordering breakfast. We had a very enjoyable leisurely time visiting and learning about the adventures of this resourceful couple. While there we met Bob & Thelma Bowser who work at the Park Service Visitors Center that is about a quarter mile away. I remembered instantly that I had met them 11 years ago when I was driving to Prudhoe Bay. We all had questions for them and they invited us over to their Center, now at a bit different location. The Bowsers live in Orlando and have been working summers here for 12 years.
After lots of visiting and a stop at the Center, I slipped off for a quick lunch at the restaurant before we departed, Dave soon joined me. I had an enormous chefs salad and arranged to buy some carrots, celery and onions from the kitchen (the veggies were later shared with Bill).
Soon Bill and I were at the landing saying good-bye to our new friends, Sabine, Dave and Bob (Thelma was doing some chores).
We passed a few fish camps and met several boats the first few miles. It is a holiday weekend and lots of folks from Fairbanks are on the river with friends and family. We found a great place to camp on the gravel point of Kalka Island. We noticed human tracks and three 5-gallon jerry cans neatly tucked by some bushes.
After I finished dinner (Bill cooks a large meal only in the mornings and munches on it all day), we talked for an hour or so and Bill turned in while I answered some email and started the day’s journal entry. It was cool and very peaceful as I sat on the shore with my feet propped up pecking away on this little PocketMail keyboard. Of course, there was plenty of light since we are in the land of the midnight sun. Actually, I can’t remember a dark night since I was someplace south of Edmonton on the drive north over a month ago.
The sound of a distant boat motor grew louder; the little speck of a boat grew larger, as it seemed to be heading straight for our island. Darn, they have a lot of nerve, landing right in front of us and only a few feet from Bill’s canoe. Four Caucasian men got out and walked directly to the stashed gas cans. Three of them carried long handled shovels and one wore a shoulder holster with a pistol. They were about a hundred yards from me and my tent, but they marched right by Bill’s tent. Needless to say, Bill also had heard them coming and was on the alert. We both stood watching and they only nodded as they walked between us. They went to a nearby open area and started digging. I couldn’t take it; I had to find out what these guys were up to. They kept digging as they explained that their four families had a fish camp on the other end of “our” island. They live in Fairbanks and often fly their plane to land on the island and tend to their nets. The digging was to bury the cans on the sand to use as anchors to tie the plane to when they park it on the island.
Bill joined us and had lots of questions about their method of smoking the salmon. I excused myself to work on this entry. After an hour or so they sped off and the peace of the evening was restored.
6 July: Days-29, Total-30; Miles-44, Total-1087
Last night the guys who invaded our island invited Bill to their fish camp. They said he could stop by on the way down river and they would show him their fish smoking operation. Bill left a half-hour before me to see their camp; he said if they were not outside he would just pass by and not wake them at 7am on a Sunday morning. They weren’t, and there was still no sign of life when I passed.
It was a great morning to paddle, cool, no wind and the water surface was glass smooth.
I caught up in an hour or so but it was so peaceful we said nothing, sometime later we were again separated by a mile or so, then later, one of us would pass by unconcerned that the other was there. We were both lost in our thoughts, nature’s beauty and the serenity of this special time; maybe better than any church service.
[“Have you seen God in his Splendors, Heard the text that Nature renders? You’ll not hear it in the family pew; The simple things, the true things, the quiet folks who do things.
Then listen, The Wild is calling you”
from ‘The Call of the Wild’ by Robert Service, apologies if not exact since from memory]
This went on for hours, during which there were a couple of rain showers; they too were gentle and beautiful.
By mid-afternoon, the wind kicked up. Then as we rounded a bend we had 20 knots right on the bow. The waves were building and this gentle Sunday float was becoming a chore. The strong head wind slowed our progress; we had to work to make 3 mph. We fought wind & whitecaps until 5pm and Bill spotted a flat spot on a rocky bank. Great, we made for it.
Tents are up, I’ve eaten, we’re cleaned up and life is great.
NOTE: We have received email messages from several who have been following along on the website. It is great sitting out here in remote wilderness hearing from family, old friends, new acquaintances, and especially folks that neither of us know who are now a part of the trip. We feel a kinship with all who are interested in what we are doing and in this very special part of our planet. Even though I try to send a personal note to all who send messages to the PocketMail address, I thought others might be interested in some of the questions we are being asked. From time to time, I will try to address some of the more common questions in my journal entries.
Q: By far, the most asked questions are concerning Bill’s pinched nerve.
A: He is doing fine. He has found that using a single blade canoe paddle does not seem to cause any pain. No, he has not contacted a doctor about it.
Q: Charlie Monson, a hiking buddy in Miami asked how our meals differ from those I would have on a long hike since we can carry more weight in a canoe? Also, do we keep our food in bear canisters?
A: Bill and I each cook our meals separately. I use a lot of the same things I use backpacking. Since I packed food for 75 days, I still need to be space conscious. I use a lot of Lipton dinners, beans & rice, mac & cheese, etc. I do augment with bagels and fresh veggies every chance I get, so I have had a lot of salads that backpackers usually only get in towns. The canoe gives me the ability to bring along more seasonings, olive oil, onions, bacon bits, cheese, etc. Also, I am not as conservative with fuel. When backpacking, I seldom have coffee or anything hot for breakfast. Now, I make up a full thermos of coffee and usually have hot oatmeal. One morning, I had eggs (dried whites) and hash browns (dehydrated); they were pretty good. I also brought along a small Dutch Oven, which would never go on a backpack trip. So far I haven’t used it, mainly due to the time and effort required.
Bill vacumn packed meals for 90 days. He uses a two-quart pressure cooker and makes lots of beans & rice, chili, stews, etc. He cooks one large pot each morning and munches on it all day long; he does not have an evening meal.
Neither of us use bear canisters, it would take 10-15 each and they are expensive and awkward to pack. We do store our food in double (some times triple) airtight containers. We are both very careful to keep a clean campsite. We look for bear sign before selecting a site, plus we camp mostly on islands. We know those precautions are not foolproof. We both have pepper spray canisters; I carry mine on my belt all the time. I also have a .44 magnum revolver, which I loaned to Bill until his .44 catches up to us.
7 July: Days-30, Total-31, Miles-38, Total-1125
The wind blew hard until 2:30am. When I awoke at 5:30 all was still and the water smooth. We quickly packed to take advantage of the favorable conditions. Hot oatmeal, a thermos of coffee to go and we were on the water before 7am. What a difference, it was really pleasant. However, within an hour the wind and waves were building again. The sky was completely covered with clouds and it drizzled rain off and on for hours. The wind maxed at about 15 knots, always in our face. The waves were only about a foot, half of yesterday’s performance. On the left bank I saw a black bear walking down the shoreline in my direction. I got one photo at a distance and the camera started its auto-rewind. After I reloaded, it was a distance shot in the other direction. I signaled Bill in the middle of the river and, on the radio, gave him the bear’s location. It was the first black bear we have seen since we started the trip. At one point it was about 50 yards from me.
As we entered a series of three canyons, the wind died, the seas calmed and we were allowed to pass uninhibited. The canyons are captivating. Surrounded by huge rocky cliffs on both sides, riding on an even swifter than normal current, the echoed sound of water cascading over and around rock, the cool feel of evaporated water and spray in the air; all these concentrated together and focused on us as we pass through these wonderful walls. I love it!
At one point the map shows rapids. Well in advance, we saw the enormous boulders that extend from the right bank to the middle of the river. If the water level had been higher, the safe route might not have been so obvious.
Once out of the canyons we were back in the wind. We found a couple of narrow flat spots near a clear, icy cold creek and called it home for the night. I used my long kayak paddle to cantilever a support to suspend the water bag of my solar shower. There was no sunshine today to warm the water but it still felt great.
Q: A couple of folks have asked how our equipment is holding up.
A: Very well, much better than we expected. Most of it needs a good cleaning but is functional. My 20 year old Therm-A-Rest mattress has been leaking for a week. I’m now using my spare Z-Rest on top of the semi-flat Therm-A-Rest and it is quite comfortable. Of course, Bill’s PocketMail refused to work after he gave it a bath.
Q: From Terry Miller in Lime Springs, IA. “When you’re stuck in the canoe all day long, how do you go to the bathroom?”
A: Everyone works out their own arrangement. I carry a ‘pee bottle’, after each filling it is emptied over the side and rinsed. The same bottle is useful at night in the tent when cold, wind or bugs would make a trip outside uncomfortable. When the bowels are signaling a movement, we head for the shore and catch up with the other canoe after taking care of business. (Terry, if you don’t have beer along it greatly reduces the number of times you need be troubled with this problem).
8 July: Days-31,Total-32; Miles-32, Total-1157
Bill departed a few minutes ago; I just started and am silently drifting as I write. Everything is so still. The river is like a mirror; absolutely smooth and reflecting the image of the mountains making them look twice as magnificent. It all brings to mind the lines from Robert Service’s “The Spell of the Yukon”:
“The summer, no sweeter ever,
The sunshiney woods all athrill,
The grayling aleap on the river,
The bighorn asleep on the hill.
The strong life that never knows harness,
The wilds where the caribou call.
The freshness, the freedom, the farness,
God, how I’m stuck on it all.”
We will fire this off later today when we get to Tanana.
9 July: Days-32, Total-33; Miles-34, Total-1191
We like Tanana (Tan-uh-naw). Upon arrival yesterday afternoon, I checked the Post Office then sent/received email on the town’s only pay phone. Bill got some groceries then went to check out the community campsite. After getting a re-supply of food, they have produce; I packed it away in my canoe and returned to make several phone calls. To my dismay, when the grocery closed they locked the foyer where the phone is located. I checked with some locals and found that the foyer is normally unlocked. However, after some one heaved a log through some windows, they lock the foyer when they are not there. I was told they took their kids up the river to a party. I really wanted to make the calls that evening so we could depart earlier the next morning. After waiting until 11pm, which is 3am EST, I gave up, no one wants to talk to me at 2 or 3am anyway. It was a quiet one mile paddle in the midnight sun down the river to the community campground.
This morning, Bill and I decided to wait until 10am when the Community Building opens. Bill called PocketMail, they told him he would need to buy a new unit. He decided that by the time he received it the trip would be nearly over, so he did not order a replacement.
Bill started downriver while I completed my calls and sent responses to the emails received yesterday. By 12:15, I was on my way. It was smooth paddling and the miles went by rapidly. Somehow, I missed Bill; we talked on the radio and decided to camp at our separate locations and link-up in the morning.
Q: Ann & Morrie Doyle of Naples, FL asked if they could charge the drinks to me at the next dinner meeting of our local Alligator Amblers hiking club.
A: Sure, Morrie, and have the bill sent to me somewhere on the Yukon River. Good Luck, we cannot get our own supplies to the right places at the right time.
10 July: Days-33, Total-34; Miles-22, Total-1211
Last evening, I washed a couple sets of clothes before I took a bath, used the solar shower’s warm water for both. It rained during the night and the almost dry clothes were as wet as before I wrung them.
Wanting to re-establish radio contact with Bill, I left my tent and other gear to dry on the shore and paddled out to the place I had radio reception with him yesterday. I was there before 6am and continued trying to call him until after 6:30. Back on the shore at my camp it was 7am and I was making breakfast when I thought I saw a hint of red on the water. The binos showed it to be Bill, evidently he had camped only a mile downstream from me. Unfortunately, he thinks I am ahead of him and he will paddle hard to catch me. He must not have had his radio on, my excited calls got no response, I even blew my whistle several times but he was over a mile upwind. I quickly packed and loaded the canoe, it was about 7:30 when I shoved off. It took another half-hour to paddle to the point at which I had seen him; he had an hour head start. Normally it takes me about three-four times his lead-time to catch him. So, it should take me about three or four hours, however if he is in his speed mode trying to catch me, it could take days. Hopefully, he will realize that having radio contact meant we were no more than two miles apart and that I would be waiting for him. If so, he would know that if he has not come to my camp within two miles, then I must be behind him. Also, he has probably already discovered that he was camped at least two miles farther downstream than he told me on the radio last evening and this would mean that he is ahead of me. Actually, all this is rather convoluted and a little much to expect an FSU alumnus to decipher.
The result is that I paddled hard into 15-25 knot winds and 1-2 foot waves with whitecaps & spray for seven hours and could not see him in the two mile expanse ahead. My progress was frustratingly slow. As the wind and waves grew in the afternoon, it took me 5 minutes to paddle 100ft. That is a rate of less than one mile in 5 hours, I found a semi-level spot on the windswept shore. The FSU grad probably figured this out hours ago and has been reading a good book while I have been rocking and rolling at a snail’s pace.
Usually, I find a little cove, eddy or other protected nook to beach my canoe for the evening. Today, I was lucky just to find a small flat spot for the tent and a gravel shore (much better than mud). The strong wind quickly dried the gear I had packed while it was still wet. With my yellow tent up as an indicator of my location and half my gear strung about on logs and other driftwood I had made a pretty good camp out of a less than desirable situation. Seems good, huh; then I found the biggest bear tracks I have ever seen. They were a day or two old and about a hundred feet down the shore from my tent. I must not have checked that far away before deciding the site was bear safe. Well, it took me an hour to get set up and I really don’t want to spend another hour packing just to get back out on the water to look for another site.
With lots of time to cook, I put some pepperoni in my heavy pot then started piling in carrots, green peppers, an abundance of onions, and a little garlic (some of the veggies need to be eaten within a couple of days of purchase). Topped with melted cheddar cheese and washed down with a Moosehead (beer), it was awesome. If Bill is still out there fighting wind & wave, I should really feel guilty.
My plan is to get in the bag early in hopes that the wind subsides then get at it early in the morn. If the wind doesn’t abate, I might just stay here another day. Bill and I have discussed just such a situation and each expects that the other will be sitting it out also.
Before turning in, I’m going to go rub out those bear tracks in an attempt to make this camp a little safer.
11 July: Days-34, Total-35, Miles-62, Total-1273
Last night, I had two visitors. No, not the teddy bears having a picnic. About 10pm, a barge came chugging slowly up river. It was the MV Ramona, it had a couple of pieces of heavy equipment and some crates and barrels; it seemed to be a light load. The skipper stayed close to the shore because the current is not so strong. As he came within a hundred feet, I waved out my tent door, he tooted the boat’s whistle. We had heard that barges used to re-supply the villages along the river since none of them have roads to the outside world. This is the first we’ve seen.
Just after dozing off again, I heard someone calling my name. It was Bill. Great! He had the same wind problems and, that morning, decided to rest until the winds eased. He planned to paddle until about 3am. I would either catch up to him or meet him in Ruby, the next town.
The weather today is great, no wind, and flat water with scattered clouds in a beautiful sky. I was on the water about 6:30 and reached Bill’s camp by 11am. He was just about done loading his canoe. I floated on, and worked on the journal, some how we missed each other in a maze of islands. We had poor radio reception but Bill did give his location and he was in front of me. I kept paddling but missed him; he probably stopped somewhere for the evening. When I arrived in Ruby at 7:30pm his canoe was not along the landing. Tomorrow, I will wait here until he arrives.
All the commercial buildings were closed when I got here. Harold who works with the local air service, invited me into his home to use his personal telephone. As I was leaving, I asked about a local shower facility. He said there is one at the laundromat but it is closed for the evening. However, a neighbor of his has a bunk and shower in his basement that he sometimes lets “drifters” use. He called Carlson and it all worked out. I just had a hot shower, Carlson tossed a set of clean sheets on the bunk, said I could use the phone if I had a calling card and told me coffee would be ready at 6:30AM. I like this little fishing village of Ruby, so far anyway.
12 July: Day-34, Total-36; Miles-0, Total-1273
It was a wonderful night at the Moose Camp B&B. I had the basement to myself and the hot shower was great. Their bathroom had the first mirror I have seen in weeks. The recent shower facilities we have used have had none. It was a little scary; the guy looking back at me was gaunt and scraggly. My forehead and nose were red and peeling, hair and beard were out of control, my front side over-tanned while the back was nearly white and ribs protruded like an under-fed horse; but I feel great. I took advantage of the mirror to trim the beard a bit, especially around my mouth where it had been straining the larger chunks from my food.
Carlson Koyukuk had a hot pot of coffee ready when I went upstairs. He set a couple of sunny-side-up eggs in front of me, and then plates of waffles and sausage kept coming until I cried “unkle”. Wow, what a great place.
The campground pavilion made a good watch station. About 9am, the binos picked up a dot that was miles away and on the far shore. Later, when it started across the mile wide river, I suspected that it was Bill. He was beating into the wind and a light chop. About 11am he arrived at the far end of the village. Just in front of him were Laura & Aaron returning after paddling their canoe a couple of hours. They told Bill about this remote little village and we both agreed we would stay for the night.
We pitched our tents at the community campground that was built to accommodate “drifters”. It has a wood platform for tents, picnic tables, a covered pavilion, a privy and a covered fire-ring with cut & split wood. All this is on a bluff overlooking the river and just above the landing where our canoes are tied.
We toured the village and everyone we met was friendly and helpful. The Community Store was much better stocked than most. While there, I introduced Bill to Father Joe Hemmer who I met last night at Harold’s home. Father Joe rotates between Ruby and Kaltag, about 170 miles down river. He spends about two weeks each, at each location.
Nora Kangas drove a four wheeler up to our camp. After talking to her awhile she invited us to a Memorial Potlatch in the evening. She is 83 years old and later we learned they call her “Wild Grandma”. She pulled up her pant legs to show the scars of two knee replacements. A few minutes after she drove away, I saw her driving up a very steep hill to visit some friends.
The Memorial Potlatch is a local custom of the Athabascan Indians and varies from community to community. A few years after the death of a family member, when the family decides the hurt and mourning should stop, they arrange a Potlatch. The entire village is invited and friends and relatives of the deceased come from all over the state. It is a grand community pitch-in dinner, give-away and dance that lasts till morning.
While Bill did his laundry, I showered then visited the library. It was one of the few times I have been able to check our website (Nice job Beth, Thanks). Karen, the librarian, was helpful and cautioned me that after we pass Galena we should watch our gear closely, there have been many thefts in that area and “drifters” have not been treated well.
Back at camp, George Yaska stopped and talked. He passes through Ruby often on his way to and from other villages along the Yukon or other connecting rivers. He is a native Arts & Crafts teacher. He spent a lot of time telling me how snowshoes and dogsleds are constructed. Also, he told me about the early, non-native, explorers in this area and how the rivers here have been used as highways for centuries. Even though most villages of a few hundred people now have some sort of air-service, boats and the river are still their major means of transportation.
In the evening, we decided not to attend the Potlatch. We did not want to intrude on a family’s special time of remembering; even though Nora and Laura told us not to be concerned with such notions. Later, as enchanting music drifted through the village, I wished I had gone. It was a rare opportunity to observe, and participate in a native celebration. Later, we learned they had two bands; one to play music for the younger crowd and the other played native music favored by the older folks. I could still hear music when I awoke at 5am.
13 July: Days-35, Total-37; Miles-24, Total-1297
It was a very quiet Sunday morning in Ruby after a full night of festivities. We also took our time. Bill wrote a letter to the mayor telling him about the friendly people, the warm welcome and how much we enjoyed his fair village. We walked to the mayor’s home. Not wanting to wake folks who may have just gotten to bed, Bill was about to leave the letter at the door. He heard footsteps inside and tapped lightly. When the door opened slightly, he slipped the letter to the lady inside.
We packed and were just getting in our canoes as it started raining. Within minutes it was pouring, I saw water running off the canoe cover and was glad to have it. An hour or so later the rain stopped and we chatted as miles slipped into our wake. About 2pm the wind started increasing and there was a light chop. Also we moved onto a new map sheet. Unfortunately, we are back on a 1:1,400,00 scale and the next and last map sheet is the same ridiculous scale. No more detail for us. We were near the middle of this mile wide river, we could see the river was turning a few miles ahead but poor visibility and many side bays made it difficult to determine which direction. As the wind increased and the waves grew, we had to get to one shore or the other. We went left. The waves were now hitting us broadside – not good. My canoe is not as stable as Bill’s so I tried to keep the waves at a 45 degree angle as I made a long diagonal approach to the left shore. Bill went directly for the shore. Both of us were paddling hard as the waves increased in size. It was a bit of a chore to quarter the bow off the wind but dare not allow it to go too far for fear of broaching. At times, the bow would plunge into a wave and come up shedding water off both sides of the cover, then do it again and again. Now I’m really glad I have a canoe cover – Thank You Terry Gouan, you did good work.
As I slipped into the calmer water near the shore, I could see Bill farther upstream making a determined effort directly toward the bank. When he got near the shore he radioed that he might have stressed his neck, we decided to pull into the sandy bank and wait for better conditions. We started fixing dinner and would decide if we would camp or paddle on, after we ate. Many times conditions improve in late afternoon or early evening.
I had a huge salad to use some of the veggies before they went bad. Half a head of lettuce, a cucumber, tomato, half of a large onion, two carrots, some pepperoni, chunks of cheddar cheese and too much olive oil all went into the gold pan. It was great.
With wind and waves still up, we decided to pitch right where we were. This narrow sandy bank is a slope of about 30 degrees so good tent sites are a joke. Bill found a little shelf higher up that he could get his small bicycle tent onto. I removed the leeboard attached to my canoe and used it as a shovel to cut & fill the bank. A spot just big enough for my little backpacking tent soon developed. We have a home for the night.
It is now 11pm, the water is much smoother, the wind is only a stiff breeze, it is sprinkling rain and the sun is shining. Another good day on the Yukon.
14 July: Days-36, Total-38; Miles-28, Total-1325
It rained off and on all night. At 4am, it was raining when I checked the canoes. A little after 5am, I awoke to Bill’s call that the rain had stopped and the wind had subsided. We quickly broke camp and were underway within half an hour. No hot coffee and oatmeal this morning.
The destination, Galena. There was a US Air Force Base there until a couple of years ago when it was closed as a cost saving measure. We made good time for a few hours then the wind started increasing. By 10am we were beating into wind & wave again. A few minutes later it was pouring rain and cooler. Visibility was limited, but we kept thinking that Galena should be around the next bend; it wasn’t. The rain and low clouds continued to make navigation through some of the islands tricky. Finally, a sign that Galena is close, an aircraft circling under the low clouds waiting for a break in the weather to land at the, now civilian, Galena Airport.
Then, at a distance, we could see the very top of a huge white sphere. All right! A communication dome at the old Air Base. Soon we went by an old “ant farm”, various arrays of many different types of antennas. Miles later, we passed the end of the runway and rounded a point that had been revetted with white metal panels to prevent erosion of the runway. Now, a mile or so away we could see the village of Galena.
We were still hard into the wind and waves when we arrived. Waves were pounding the shore making it nearly impossible to leave a canoe in the water unattended without it either taking water or getting beat against the rocky shoreline. I landed mine and pulled it broadside onto the gravel shore. Bill’s much heavier aluminum canoe does not slide as well as my slicker kevlar (like a lightweight fiberglass) canoe. After a couple of unsuccessful attempts to secure it perpendicular to the shore, we knew that would not work with the waves tossing it around. Then we tried laying round pieces of driftwood on the shore like a crude ramp. We then got on each side of the canoe and, with a little help from a big wave, heaved it straight up the driftwood rollers until it was completely out of the water. Whew, what a relief to have both boats out of the turbulent water.
The rain let up for a while and we pitched our tents. Then we were off to explore the village. The Post Office had three boxes for us. Two from Betty with film mailers, GORP/birdseed (a great mixture of nuts, raisins and M&Ms) and homemade cookies. One box was from Charlie Monson, a hiking friend from the Big Cypress Chapter in Miami. Like Betty with the GORP, Charlie knows what goes good on a physically demanding, long haul, Snickers bars. There were about a dozen super large size bars in the box, no note, no beer, just lots of Snickers. Thanks Betty and Charlie, you made our day!
Bill needed to rest his neck; paddling into those waves has to be stressful on it. I decided to see if the local watering hole, the first one since Dawson nearly 800 miles ago, had a happy hour. While there, I met Andy Summers who has traveled all over this part of Alaska. He gave me a town by town description of what to expect all the way to Holy Cross.
As agreed, Bill arrived at 6:30 to join me for dinner in the adjoining cafe. I introduced him to Andy, Helen and Katrina. Bill mentioned that a young kid had tossed some pebbles at his tent then shyly chatted for a bit. The locals at the bar immediately knew this young guy and said his sled was a few dogs short of a full team. They advised us to watch our gear closely. Bill said he wasn’t planning to eat anyway and left in a flash. After eating, I returned to our camp. Bill said all seemed OK.
A few minutes after we had sacked out, I heard Bill ask someone what they were doing lifting the tent door flap to look in. He firmly, but politely sent the guy on his way.
It was raining hard as I dozed off. It is a good feeling to be in a warm dry tent when it is cold and wet outside. Raindrops on the tent are like a soft drum playing Taps.
15 July: Day-37, Total-39; Miles-7, Total-1332
It rained reasonably hard all night. Our plan was to take the day off to allow Bill time to rest his neck. About 7:30am the rain stopped and we were both ready to get out of our tents. As I was putting on my shoes, Bill loudly announced that the “so & so” had stolen his sandals. Bill was not a happy camper. We both depend on our sandals everyday. I wear mine to wade into the water when packing and unpacking the canoe and when entering and exiting. Bill wears his nearly all the time. We both have spare footgear, but not sandals. As we were finishing breakfast, the young guy quietly appears behind Bill’s tent. Bill informed him that he wanted them back and that the theft would be reported to Jay Sears, the local law officer who we met yesterday. The kid said he knew nothing. As he was leaving, I caught up with him. I told him that my friend was one bad dude and could really get mean, especially if someone steals his stuff. I asked if he knew where he might “find” the sandals. He said he would check and let me know.
About an hour later, after Bill had gone down to his canoe, the kid was in the bushes and signaled me to follow him. We walked down the shoreline about a quarter mile and he just stopped. I asked where the sandals were and he looked at the ground. Sure enough, there they were behind a small bush. I took them and told him to avoid Bill and our camp if he wanted to stay safe. He nodded and disappeared. I knew that Bill would not hurt this errant little 9th grader, but did want to scare the shoes out of him.
Bill suggested that we should either move our camp or just leave town. We decided to move on after we picked up a few items, did some chores and had lunch at the cafe. While I sent replies to the messages I received yesterday, Bill found a coffee pot in the corner of Chaundra’s grocery store. When I caught up, he introduced me to John, who retired from the Air Force, Mary, and Sidney. All were interesting. Later Bill purchased a book that Sidney Hutchinson had written about Athabascan Indian life.
Yesterday at the Post Office we had talked with Lucy Williamson. She works at the local US Fish & Wildlife office. She told us to make sure we stopped at their Visitor Center while we were in town. Today, she helped me get a better map of the river. While there we met Dominique Watts, an Intern from the University of New Mexico and his friend Julie also from UNM. We learned about the Innoko National Wildlife Refuge from Lucy and Dominique.
After a late lunch, we got underway. The weather had cleared and it was a cool, calm day to paddle. This intended day of rest for Bill’s neck did not work out as we had planned. After a couple of hours we started looking for a campsite. We soon found a low gravel island and pitched.