When I pick up the phone, all I hear is rustling. “Hello?”

“Hey, Lib. Right now I’m sitting on the bank of the Yukon and I’m scared as shit,” Mingo says, slightly out of breath. “It’s a big river.” There’s more rustling then the sat phone cuts out for minute. When the phone comes back I hear him chuckle. “There is a ton of debris in the river. Whole trees floating down the river.” He pauses for a second, then continues, “I think once I get in the boat I’ll calm down.” Right now, however, he sounds anxious and worried.

“I talked with the ranger here today. He seems to think I’ll be fine if I’m as good as I say I am. He said be careful with all the streams that break off. Be patient with it. I may end up a mile down a stream that just ends then have to paddle back. I wish I’d brought some marshmallows.” Sometimes the oddest things come up during our conversations, I think to myself.

“Marshmallows?” I ask. “Yeah. You throw them on the water. ‘Cause they’re so light they float with the strongest current. Helps you to know what way the water’s flowing,” he explains. He pauses again as he walks through something noisy (tree brush? I have no idea what he’s doing while we’re talking.).

Abruptly the topic changes. “Everything in Eagle by the water is completely destroyed. Probably lost 20 houses that were down by the water. And the Laundromat and a store are gone too. I’m sending you some pictures of it.” The sat breaks up again and when he comes back he’s talking about the river again. “I think the kayaking is going to be fairly easy. It’s navigating the river that’s going to be tough.” I can hear the apprehension creep back into his voice.

Then he laughs. “I was talking to a custom’s agent and he told me that two German guys left from here a few days ago. They built a raft out of 50 gallon drums. They’re gonna have a tough time when the river flattens out.” He laughs again, which is good to hear. Maybe he’ll have some companions on the river for a day or two.

“Well, just wanted to let you know I got here and am ready to go,” he says quickly. We must be reaching our time allotment for today. The sat phone has a limited battery (about 4.5 hrs) so we have to keep our conversations short. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow night.” We hang up and I jot down a few notes for myself. Talking to him made me anxious about what he’ll face tomorrow.

An hour later the phone rings again and it’s Mingo. “Hey, just wanted to tell you my truck won’t be back in Tok until tomorrow.” I’m surprised to hear from him again since we already talked one minute over our limit in our earlier conversation. (Plus, we had already talked about the truck the day before.)

“I kept forgetting to tell you that,” he continued, “And I needed to hear a human voice again.” He sounds calmer now, not so frantic, but I can still hear the thick layer of anxiousness in his voice. “You’ll never believe how warm it is here right now. It’s probably 75 degrees right now. Man, Tok was cold compared to this.” Warmth is good, even if he did repack all his clothes to account for colder weather.

He asks how I’m doing and how things are going out here. We chat for a minute about the hot and humid weather in middle Tennessee before it’s time to hang up again. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow night. I’m going to be up by 4, 4:30ish and want to start paddling first thing,” he tells me. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow and I’ll be down the river.”

We hang up and I look at the phone – another five minute and thirty-second phone call. Normally, I’d worry about the extra time, but today I know he’ll have the opportunity to do one last quick charge on all the equipment. As I put the phone away and wander back upstairs, I hope that he’s able to put the anxiousness aside for a bit so he can get some rest. I’m already looking forward to hearing about his first day on the river.