J June – Grand Canyon melt down hike.

My Yellowstone trip was postponed due to a late spring in Wyoming, snow in mid June, so I decided to push the Grand Canyon trip forward, first mistake. I did need to finish the final images for Attu’s Grand Canyon book so this sounded like a completely rational and logical plan. Spending the first few days on the south rim was very pleasant, cool temperatures, light winds and crystal clear blue skies. What a pleasant week to pick to visit Grand Canyon and enter the inner canyon.

Once I was finished with Attu’s photography on the rim I obtained my wilderness permit and got ready to cruise down the South Kaibab Trail to Phantom Ranch. I was carrying about 60 pounds as I was going to stay at the Bright Angel Campground for two nights. I carried extra weight as I wanted this to be a training hike for Yellowstone and the ambitious trip I would take into the backcountry of the Thorofare. Second mistake! I can attest that this trail is steep, very steep in many sections. I think I saw Wiley Coyote get whacked on this trail. A 6 mile hike is usually very easy for me. These 6 miles makes a 21 mile forced march in the Marines look like a picnic party at the beach. I can only say, take the mules! Not only is this trail steep but the trail is composed of steps, many steps with some as high as 18 inches or more and it is extremely hot, even in early summer and offers little shade. On the positive side, the South Kaibab offers unbelievable views of the inner canyon and is very much worth the hike. Actually, magnificently gorgeous! Hint one; let the mules carry your packs!

Up until Cedar ridge I did quite well and was proceeding at a good pace. The steps were bothersome but acceptable. The problem with steps is no pace can be attained. It is just one pounding action after the next, no rest as when hiking on a trail. Once on the steep and heavily stepped Skeleton section the pounding took its toll on my calves, thighs and hamstrings. I believe that this section of the trail was designed by a crazed and insane wanna –be long range hiker, probably the same knucklehead that designed the Kearsarge Pass Trail in the Sierra’s of California. Way too many high steps with not enough trail to get a pace going on. Between the constant pounding and the increasing heat I decided that a half hour break would be a great idea. At the bottom of the Skeleton there is some shade provided by a section of the sheer wall. I did welcome this shade. Why do they call it the Skeleton? Whoa, go figure that one! Easy, you feel like a skeleton at the bottom and your personal skeleton is beaten and pounded into mush and submission. Without weight this trail would be much more enjoyable and would not pound your knees and muscles as seriously. Hint two, let the mules carry you pack!

After a nice break, water and a little lunch I staggered down the rest of the trail to the river and finally to my new home for the next two days. My campsite was nice, near the creek and also running potable water. My hike down took about 8 hours, almost twice the amount of time on a normal 6 mile hike. My legs were pretty eaten up, cramping a bit but actually not as bad as they could have felt. My feet though were a different matter. I developed blisters on each foot and the constant pounding downhill bruised my toes. I ended up losing 3 toenails on each foot. These feet were not looking great for a day at the beach. I know how the Brits felt on the march through Burma on the Bridge over the river Kwai. Only difference was that I did not have a bunch of barbarians beating me when I wanted a break. My next decision was to soak in Bright Angel Creek; this was the best idea of the day. Ah, cool water in a fabulous place. A few other campers were by this time in camp and more were coming into camp. I guess I did not do to bad as I thought as I had passed some of these groups on the trail. But for now the plan was to relax in the cool waters of this wonderful creek. I talked with some of the hikers and they said about the same as I said, tough trail we just past over. I just pushed deeper into the cool water to enjoy the rest of the afternoon, rejoicing in this beautiful canyon. On a walk I did see a thermometer in the sun that read over 110 degrees late in the afternoon. That really did not register with me at the time but would later.

After many hours of resting, relaxing and even taking a small nap I decided to visit the rest of the little valley I was occupying. Phantom Ranch was just upstream a few thousand feet, along with a ranger station and small store. Small is the operative word here. I am glad that I carried most of what I needed on my back. As I walked around in sandals my feet and thighs hurt a bit but these were manageable. I visited with the mules and some horses in a corral that others, smarter than I, rode down on. Then I explored the Phantom Ranch. What a cool place. I would love to stay here for a day or two. Very rustic and quaint! I bought a candy bar and some gator aid and sauntered back to my campsite. I did notice a thermometer that was hovering near 100 degrees at 6pm. It must have been quite a bit warmer on the trail I surmised. Rhoades scholar I am not, duh!

Back at camp I broke open the squirrel proof boxes you are required to keep your food in. That’s right, no bear boxes here. It is the squirrels that seem to attack everything that is called food. Lots of squirrels and chipmunks! Squirrels in the trees, on the ground, sitting on the tables watching me! Just about everywhere, except in my squirrel proof ammo box. Now though it was to be my dinner time. Squirrel could be on the menu if these guys were a bit slower.

One of the reasons I was heavy coming down was all my food was composed of MRE’s. They are tasty with a good calorie balance but they are not light. After cooking and munching my dinner I did camp chores and cleanup. After that I walked around a bit and relaxed near the creek again. I was walking a bit more than normal to keep my muscle stretched out and supple. This would pay dividends on the hike out.

Retiring to my tent I watched the stars and listen to the divine sounds of running creek water until sleep overtook me. Also watched the squirrels playing in the trees! Lots of playing squirrels! Boy, this place would be like heaven for the Clampets and Mccoys. Lots of stew running around on those 4 short legs! Sleep happened in about 7 minutes flat it seemed. Guess I was a tad tired. After a very pleasant sleep, I awoke to the sound of the creek, songbirds and squirrels a chattering. I also saw some deer walking through camps as people were still sleeping at this late 6am hour. Lazy slobs!

Breakfast was MRE’s! Wonderful huh! After this I relaxed for a bit and then grabbed a camera to shoot some images of the local area. I worked down to the river first and took pictures of both black and silver bridges, the river, rafts, mountains and ruins. Great morning and incredibly interesting and fun! No people yet as many were either still sleeping or contemplating death by pounded legs.

After my 2 hour long exploration I returned to camp for some relaxation time and also time to visit with my beat-up feet. I could figure that the hike out on injured feet was not going to be pleasant.. Mole skin and some pain killers were going to be the order of the day plus some slower paced hiking out. Today though I was going to photograph more, explore more and relax more in this wonderfully cool creek. Plus I wanted to eat down all my food so I was carrying nothing out.

Well, I accomplished all that I wanted to do on this great relaxation day. I ate all my extra food, relaxed in the creek for many hours and explored more of the area. My feet were doing as well as could be expected and the squirrels and I had come to an accommodation. Sleep came fast again to me in the calming hands of a babbling creek.

Morning came up early as I wanted to be on the trail before 5am. It was getting hotter each day and I wanted to get to the Indian Gardens before it became oppressive with heat. I had about 10 uphill miles to hike today. Leaving in the coolness was fine. I mole skinned my blisters and padded my toes as best as I could. In boots bruised toes are a tough thing to help out. I just figured that this day would be tough so just put one foot after the next and carry on. I said my good byes to my squirrel friends to. Bitter parting it was!

The hike to Indian Garden was fine. Not to hot, it stayed below 130 and really not that steep. My toes were aching a bit but that was expected. I was slow as most of the trail was uphill but with fewer steps and more trail I could get into a pace with rest steps. That was so nice and so much easier than the steps and steepness on the South Kaibab. Approaching the Gardens I decided I should have lunch in the shade trees plus I could completely refill with water. The heat was really cranking up now. I saw a chicken explode into flames and barbeque itself next to the trail. Awesome dude! A thermometer that was located in the sun registered 130 degrees or so. I knew I was in for a tough hike the remaining 6 miles or so, but I have hiked in ovens before. Hint three, let the mules take your pack!

After over hydrating myself I started up to the south rim. The heat was brutal and the trail is steep. A great combination when the sun is sitting in your pack. At 3 mile house I took a break and resupplied with water. I was cramping in the thighs and hammies, it was just miserably hot. I will never cook a lobster again I promised myself. The heat was also affecting my feet, sopping wet and removing my mole skin. I cannot ever remember being this hot and miserable and I still had 3 more miles to the rim. Fortunately, the heat did not affect my small brain. Water kept it cool and operational. That is a must, seriously. Trudging on to the next goal, 1.5 mile house was incredible miserable. With very little shade, the steep trail, heat, weight and sore muscle all combined to make for a very slow hike. I rested as if I was at altitude, move a hundred feet and try to cool down. Move another 200 feet and try to cool down. I progressed the 1.5 miles at this pace. This was one tough hike with the heat making it very difficult. I also met Wiley Coyote and the Roadrunner on the trail. We had a nice talk I believe! Or was I hallucinating! Not sure!

When hiking in these extreme conditions sometimes it is better to find water, shade and a place to relax for a couple of hours. This is exactly what I did. At 1.5 mile house my pack went to the ground and I found a rock in the shade to be with. I drank water and relaxed for a couple hours. Best decision of the day. My feet relaxed a bit, the cramps backed off and I was able to resume hiking at a faster pace without literally beating myself into the ground. At about 5 pm I topped out and found my truck.

Literally throwing the pack off my tired sweat stained body was the best feeling of the day. Ah, some relaxing driving to the TenX forest service campground after a huge burger at Wendy’s. Talk about a treat after a long hot day on the trail. Sleep would be a wonderful place to visit tonight.

I will admit that this hike tore me up even though it was only about 16 miles. Steep trails are one thing but constant steps really do bad things for your legs and feet. Another problem is that I have short legs. The cause of this is not a deformity but a 5’7” frame. Pigmy hikers of America unite! The weight does not help either. I think the hardest part was the heat. It was oppressive. Cooling oneself was near to impossible. I can understand why there are so many heat related injuries each year. If I had just pushed hard to get out I could have injured myself. Fortunately, I am patient and willing to adjust to conditions. I guess that is why I am still alive and hiking in seriously challenging conditions. When I was editing film the 130 degree temperature sign really hit me. I have worked construction projects at 124 degrees in Borrego Springs but 130 in the sun really did impress me with how tough it was. Not a place that I would like to be again in that type of heat.

I learned a few lessons about hiking in Grand Canyon. Really do listen to the rangers about the dangers of heat. When I go down there again I will have the mules carry most of my weight and I will go down the Bright Angel trail even though it is longer. The steps really do bother my hiking style. If my weights were less the heat would not have bothered me as much. That is about all that I can say about the lessons learned. Would I go back? In a heartbeat! The breathtaking beauty is more than worth the pain and discomfort.

Man vs.Wild vs Reality in the field.

Many times each month I receive emails or see some Face book entries about the latest episode of Man vs Wild. I have watched a few episodes and equate it to Stallone’s climbing film Cliff Hanger. Wow, what a piece of tragic climbing crap that one is! It is fun to watch with other climbers, so we can heckle, drink beer and eat pizza, so it does have social worth in its ability to entertain. That is a positive! I also have to admit that the Lithgow character was a highlight in the movie. Stallone had a few good lines to, “it takes a million bucks to heat this place”, as he was burning money to heat a large ice crevasse. That was good for a laugh or two. Man vs. Wild does not even meet this low threshold for humorous entertainment. Sad! Send Snooki out there dashing through the bush, eating snakes or sailing a veggie raft to oblivion. She is cuter but probably just as arrogant and obnoxious. It’s like watching a WWE train wreck, way too much drama, with staged and scripted events one after the next. Next season do we see Bear wrestling a gator and biting its face off? I might even watch that! Way cool Bear! Can you make me some gator sandals, please! The only difference between WWE and Man vs. Wild is that this has a forests setting rather than an arena. Quite possibly if you have to bite the head off of snakes, eat beetles, climb rock faces without gear or construct a raft out of reeds and veggies you might have already lost the game. Survival, shit your dead!

An observation from a rock climbing guide with over 120 first ascents and close to 10,000 climbs in my career. The climbing sequences are purely trash. A figment of someone’s Hollywood imagination! I wish I could get all of these climbing sequences looped together so I could have a climbing party and pig-out on beer and pizza and heckle the trash we are watching on the small screen. I once had a dog that could solo 5.7 crack climbs and Nikki would have no problem hauling his 4 legs over what I have seen on Man vs. Wild. He could climb well but his belaying technique was suspect. Even for televisions abysmally low standards this aims low on the target.

I have climbed rock and ice, hiked, backpacked, kayaked and barely lived through some truly epic adventures for close to 35 years but I have seen nothing here that is impressive or even real. I have seen a couple cool stunts and wondered how many people are in the crew that shows the Bear in these treacherous and difficult situations. The simple answer is it may not be as desperate as they want you to believe. Did you believe that Lassie or Flipper were in danger? Always impressed me there was another episode the following week after Lassie was run over by a steam locomotive and survived this catastrophe. I also wonder how this crew lives in these treacherous and difficult places. Probably in the same hotel or lodges that the Bear has been accused of staying in while implying that he is living in terribly tough and primitive conditions. Hardship is when the bar runs out of Captain Morgan’s, Mai Tai mix and eye patches’ “eye matey”. Sorry to rain on anyone’s parade here but if you believe that any of this crap is based on reality please checkout my new real-estate venture on the Yukon River in Alaska. Great gravel and sand islands, with scenic views and wildlife but may not be there the following year. This is purely entertainment, not reality and if you view it as real you are doing yourself a great disservice. It is entertainment!

Much of what you see will kill you in the forest. You will not survive in the wilderness by living off the land. There is just not enough to eat unless you have a small arsenal and the will to kill everything in sight including your director and producer. Real bears spend about 18 hours a day foraging for food and they have a hard time. This guy is going to be better than Mother Nature! Give me a break! Bears also eat many things that would make a human puke and probably die, like cans, plastic, rotten meat, incredibly bitter and poisonous plants. Try that diet out Bear! I hate to be the “bearer” of this terrible news, it is mostly fake. It is the Hollywood wilderness! Most of these wilderness stunts can be accomplished on a sound stage at Universal studios. Remember, they sank the Titanic in a large swimming pool! It looked real convincing to me, how about you? Didn’t you not cringe, from the Dolby sound, as the boat broke apart? Bear, why travel around the world to exotic places other than to see some cool countryside. Remember, what you do can be done on a soundstage!

On expedition I plan meticulously for my food, fuel and every other need. If I do not I will die! This is not ‘Little House on the Prairie’ with an abundance of great things to eat just for the taking. Most of these places are not Hawaii with natural fruits hanging from trees waiting to be consumed by the lost adventurer. In my travels in the Canadian and Alaskan Arctic and sub-arctic I would not last two weeks let alone a season if I had to exist on local natural foods. Just is not enough natural food to eat. I have found, eaten and enjoyed all kinds of berries in Alaska, Canada, the Sierra’s and Yellowstone. Love to eat them but I can assure you that it would be impossible to survive on them. In the lakes of some mountain ranges I have fished, by hand, under the cutback lips of some creeks and captured fish. This is a lucky day not something to plan on for your next dinner. And water is also a problem. This is not Arrowhead Spring glacier pure water. Much of it is contaminated with all kinds of cool organisms that will rip your intestines out your butt! It all needs to be treated with a filter or boiled. If not, you may be gashing those cool veggies out your butt along with the Guardia cysts that are causing you to crap your intestines out. Sounds fun huh! Guardia, cryptosporidium and a host of other cysts, protozoa, viruses and bacteria exist in these pure, clear lakes and stream. What a load of crap that it is all safe and ripe for the taking. These are just a few of the issues I have with the accuracy of what comes out of Man vs. Wild. Looks great on film but little things like drinking water will make you run out of toilet paper in a heartbeat.. They never seem to touch the little issue of a responsibility to viewers. At least let’s be responsible if we cannot be real.

I have a suggestion for the production team. Hawaii! There is food hanging from many of the trees out there, wild bananas, avocados, guava’s, mango’s, feral chickens on Kauai. I think even I could handle this area. Plus it is surrounded by water teaming with fish and other seafood’s. Another plus is great hotels just out of camera angle and I sincerely believe that they never run out of Captain Morgan’s wonderfully tasty drink. Eye matey! There I might believe that Bear could survive, and quite well thank you!

I am sorry that I seem so negative for Man vs.Wild! Well, maybe I see it as a menace for its lack of accuracy. I also take to task the individuals that actually believe that what they are viewing is real and authentic mountain, desert or island survival skills. I repeat it is for entertainment purposes only. They should have a disclaimer and it should read. This is all fake and staged and should only be attempted by paid people on television. Reality television is faked! Next thing reality tv will tell us is that the Doobie Bros.are related,. the Thompson Twins are twins and have the same mother and the Beatles are singers and musicians and not something to munch on in a Man vs. Wild episode. Oh the inhumanity of it all!

There have been allegations of misrepresentation of what the viewer observes and some of Bears after hours activities.. Duh! He is an entertainer. If he was a real adventurer he would be doing location documentaries. On these so called deserted islands, mountain excursions and desert outings he is not alone. There are film crews, production people, audio crews, safety personnel, stunt coordinators and many others that make these productions possible. At least with the Roadrunner and Wiley Coyote we knew these were faked. Or at least some of us! Here they try to pass fake as real.

Can Bear get hurt, of course! Anytime that you partake in stunts, things can and will go wrong, sometimes horribly wrong! People get whacked driving to work each day and that is not that hazardous. Bear is well trained and actually a good mountaineer with ascents of Everest and Ama Dablam. These tell the mountaineering character of the man. He also does some wonderful work for charities. I am sure that he is a great guy and I give him the due respect for his 8000 meter climbs. I just have issues with accuracy.

Please remember, what you watch on television in a serial basis is produced viewing. It is not real in this case. It is entertainment. Do not do this crap in the woods. Stunts are stunts; they are not things to be done in the wilderness. You do not swim in swift rivers; you do not climb rock walls without ropes unless you are completely capable, and all that you see on these types of programs are canned and controlled. It is not real, just entertaining, and sometimes scenic and makes you believe superman is real. Only on tv is he!

Today I had a conversation with a friend, new, that lives in Alaska. We talked about the site, Bears Unlimited, my love of bears and my love of the mountains and Alaska. All the regular questions were asked but then she asked me one that has never come up. “What is my inspiration for wanting to touch the heavens and follow the bears in thier space?” Just sat there thinking about where and why it started. Then it came to me, my inspiration is music and really one particular song.
Before I tell you this song a little history. I was released from the Marine Corps on 29 June, 1971. I entered service on 30 June, 1967. Went to boot camp in beautiful Parris Island , SC. in the non humid months of July and August. It was really to hot to be worried about a little 96% humidity. Boot camp was cool, loved my DI’s and all the fun physical torture they meted out to us. lol. After surviving those 8 weeks of constant pressure and harrassment I went to some schools and then to serve with the 1st Marine Air Wing. Served in Hawaii, Okinawa, Japan and Vietnam. Fun times, tough times but genuine times of deep and abiding friendship with guys that became closer to me than my own family. Before the Marines I was a country boy living in northern Ohio. In my teenage years I worked on farms in West Richfield, planting and helping to harvest veggies and potatoes in september. I flipped burgers and fried chicken at Manners in Seven Hills. Guess I should tell the management now that I ate more than I worked. Great burgers guys, thanks. The farm work made the Marine stuff pretty easy plus I wrestled and played football as a kid. Pretty normal upbringing.
Back to 1971 now.
I move to Long Beach ,Cal, went to school and began my climbing career in 1972 at Suicide Rock near Idyllwild. My first climb was called the Breeze, a nice 5.7 crack. I will remember this climb to my death bed because I thought it would be my death bed. Scared the crap out of me. Wish I had real climbing shoes and real gear like my leader but that would come later. We accomplished a few easier climbs that day and then went home. I really disliked it the first day, day two was a little better. By day 5 I was telling people how cool it was and that I wanted to climb this coming weekend. A pattern here was already developing, denile. Keep that in mind. The disease had started.
At this same time I was pretty rudderless. But I was finding my place in the mountains, whether it was climbing, hiking or the beginnings of my ice career in the local San Bernardino Mountains. I would spend most of my free time climbing or exploring mines or just tramping through the hills. Some of these hills were over 11,000 feet so I also began to learn about these places. It was a different place than flat Ohio so I began to become a rudderless mountaineer. Drifting between two places, the city and the mountains. Knowing something was wrong but never being able to quite understand what.
Then I heard it, a song that seemed to be wrtten for me and with me in mind. A newer singer songwriter did this tune. I had never been to his mountains nor even seen them but I believe that mountains are all alike. His place was the Rockies and mine were the San Jacinto’s. That song that pulled at my heart was Rocky Mountain High. Only difference was I was 26 and not 27. But the story was my story and it pulled me in a direction to the mountains and climbing and bears and all that I love now.
Reborn at 26 to a world of beauty and peace. To seeing beauty each day around me when I was alone in the mountains. To learning new skills that brought larger mountains under my wings and new ways to explore these wild places. Observing the eagles and hawks souring to the heavens and tracking bears that walk 30 miles a day. I would walk with them and learn from them. My political science degree making less sense to me each day as I sat through lies and falsehoods that were being taught. My drill instructors knew more than these ignorant talking heads.
I became more comfortable in the wilderness and more comfortable with myself. I had found my church and my religion. It resided in the high meadows, streams and peaks of the mountains and in the wilderness. It resided in my all my animal friends and the heavens that gaurded the wilderness.
All this started from a song. A song that went deep to my soul and captured my heart for a life built around trees and streams.
I am sure that when my daughters read this it will be something that they never knew about me. Both girls have been involved in the wilderness and climbing. Actually they were very good rock climbers, 5.11 plus, leads. Both have been involved with the Attu childrens series and Libby is the managing editor for the series. She is the graphic artist and editor. Many wonder who that smart someone must be behind this series. Most could not believe that it was me. I am just the photographer and writer. Crystal was one of the main drivers at the beginning of the series. We worked out the concept and published the first book. Great kids, smart and well disciplined, go figure.
In one sentence in the song John Denver sings about how hard it is to understand how we can destroy all the beauty around us. So do I! And it makes me angry. We kill for a pair of tennis shoes or for a political thought. We destroy the forests for lumber and pollute streams for minerals. Never seeming to see that we are killing ourselves. We fight war after war for what? I still cannot understand Vietnam, 58,000 people of my generation, killed. And now we buy those tennis shoes from the same people we tried to kill. We fight for oil as we have an economy built in the 30″s and still living on the same principals. We have learned little and we will continue to learn little as we move forward. Yes, I am pissed and that is one of the reason I love the wilderness. The quiet solitude of the meadows and high peaks. The arctic waters that I challenge. This is my solitude away from all that is so insane.
And one wonders why I have little fear of bears. They are mostly gentle critters. I train to become a man that can challenge the forces of nature and win. But mostly to absorb the beauty of the forests and the seas.
This is where my inspiration started. A song by a gentle soul that saw life as I do. I still listen to John Denver’s music and believe that if more people did we might have a better place to live. I guess we can always hope. None of us are perfect but we must all try.
That is my inspiration. Yours is different as we all have unique experiences. My hope is to help and leave a little positive progress to build upon. My way is to help the wilderness through Bears Unlimited. I have had many nice comments about the content of the site. I love bears and want everyone to see them as I do. A noble and special animal in the world of animals. I hope for the support to help me in this goal.

The Yukon, even 1500 miles upstream, is a huge river, being one half mile wide in spots. In normal flow years she is a dangerous and treacherous river. This year as I start my journey down this massive Alaskan river the conditions are more difficult. The May breakup floods, the worst in over 100 years, partially destroyed Eagle, with many complete homes, cars, boats, trucks, propane tanks and ten of thousands of trees swept into the river. Much of this debris became lodged on islands and shorelines, while other debris sank below the surface of the murky Yukon. These are the conditions that I would have to contend with when I entered this difficult world.

Launching into the unknown, alone, I always feel a bit apprehensive. Things happen, good things and horribly bad things. Once I am into my expeditionary world the feelings fade quickly. I am at home, the wilderness is my home, and a place I feel most comfortable. The Minnow, my 16 foot Seda sea kayak, and I are passing the steel bulkheads protecting the main part of town. Passing Calico Bluffs I am already comfortable on the river. I am learning how the turbulence and currents affect my boat as I cruise through them. Occasionally, my paddle strikes something underwater. The water is so murky that I cannot see more than a couple of inches beneath the surface. I decide to shallow up the stroke a bit. “Good idea”, I say to myself!

While the river offered challenges the skies were not going to be easy on me. Thunderstorms were developing all around. I pulled ashore to change into some Gore-tex rain gear. “Ah’ the romance of kayaking in the rain’ I commented to myself. Heavy rain began pounding me as I shrunk under the cover of my hooded jacket. Lightning strikes close enough for my hairs to standup shook the forests close to me. “Welcome to the Yukon summer” I uttered. What an excellent way to start my journey!

My destination for this evening was the Phonograph cabin. This cabin is located in Yukon Charlie River National Preserve, about 60 miles from Eagle. Paddling all day I was learning that the turbulence and currents were manageable and survivable. They would push my boat around, sometimes considerably, but as long as I stayed alert I usually found easier water around the turbulence. Just a sum zero game, stay in my boat and I would be fine. Get into the water and things would get very sporty and unmanageable in a hurry.

The mountains that I was traveling through were nothing but gorgeous. Crimson fireweed carpeted many of the hillsides with valleys giving hints to more distant mountains. Bluffs came to the rivers edge, some collapsing in giant rockslides that peppered the river with million year old rocky missiles. I learned to paddle away from these hazards. Every moment in this wilderness taught me a new lesson. You either learn here or you could easily perish.

The bluffs are easy to identity so navigation is no problem. I began searching the right shore for signs of the cabin. Peering through my binoculars I see a boat beached on the shore. As I closed in I recognized this as a Park Service boat. Two Park Service Rangers, Scott and Adam, are clearing firebreaks around the cabin. I had met Scott at Park headquarters in Eagle. We talked a bit and as more rain began to fall I hauled some gear up to the cabin.

The cabin was a wonderful place with a hot tub; queen sized bed, gourmet resident cook and Hawaiian dancing girls. Ok, how about a hard slab bed, small wood stove, no hot tub, a dinner of Mingo cooked MRE’s and no dancing girls but lots of dancing mosquitoes. Thankfully, the cabin was dry and had screen on the door. Mosquitoes were rather active outside with only a few penetrating the screened interior. As rain was cascading out of the heavens again I cooked my dinner inside. In a few hours my bag and two inch sleeping pad were going to feel wonderful on the raised platform. After dinner I wrote in my journal and made a satellite phoned call to Libby, my basecamp manager. I gave her my GPS position and a summary of my day. I would do this each day. I fell asleep, as moderate rains hammered the metal roof, thinking of today’s Yukon adventure and what tomorrow would bring.

Ah morning, another day of adventure with a mix of clouds and sun. My MRE’s are warming in their heater packs. Most of my meals are military foods. Easy to make, tasty and nutritious! They are much better then the C rations that I ate while I was in the Marines. While breakfast is cooking I am stuffing my sleeping bag and packing the Minnow for another day on the river. After a quick breakfast I push off into the unknown. I stay with the shore current that is running about 8 mph. It has some very interesting hydraulics though, “Lots of trash under this murky mess I remark to myself”. Occasionally, my paddle hits something in the water. This has happened before, actually many times in the past two days. I readjust my paddle stroke to shallow it up even more. I would not like to battle the monster that lurks just under my keel. It is beginning to lightly rain again, wow, what a surprise. There are actually pluses to the rain, no mosquitoes and the wilderness smells are so intense and clean. I do not like the winds though. They are a bit nasty and can be dangerous on the river.

It is close to lunch and I need to take a little break to relax my legs from cramping. Five hours is about as much time as I can be in my cockpit without a bit of stretching and exercise. I usually try to find a beach with gravel as this gravel is easy to walk on. The mud can be knee deep and is very sticky making it even more wretched. After a quick lunch, gorp, and some exercise I move on.

This evening I would like to be 60 miles downriver from the Phonograph cabin and relaxing at Slaven’s Roadhouse. Yukon Charlie River Preserve is not only beautiful but has some nice accommodations. Well at least for the backcountry! I headed for the cut-bank current on the other side of the river. Many roils and boils tossed the surface into a jumbled mass of cross currents and turbulence. Pretty messy here! The winds are blowing upriver, as usual, and are blowing near 20 mph. The rain has returned so conditions are fairly challenging. Some of the small whirlpools seem to suck the Minnow backwards or at least make moving forward slower. This is a tough area to be paddling in. The river floor must be a mess here. I continue to move closer to the cut-bank shore current.

The rivers width varies from one half of a mile wide to as much as a mile. Here it has narrowed to a half mile or so. With this narrowing the current has increased as has the turbulence. Sweepers seem to be everywhere. These obstructions are very dangerous and I am very wary about being to close. I find the faster current close to the shore. My speed picks up by a couple miles per hour. I would like to ride this swift puppy for a couple miles but they seldom last that long. The river seems to change currents at will. Sometimes the main channel is the place. Other times it is the cut-banks. Just have to search for the best current. Now I am charging at close to 8 miles per hour. Smack, crash, the stern of the boat takes a hit from something lurking underwater. I never saw anything, just a jolt by something much larger than I. Checking my rudder for damage I head out to the main channel. Slower current here but safer, or am I?

At one point my mind wandered and I wondered how many strokes I was paddling each day. On average I was dipping into the water about 4000 times per hour or about 32,000 to 40,000 strokes in an eight to ten hour day. That impressed me in two ways. One, that was a lot of work and two, what possessed a so called intelligent person to assume such abuse. I have no idea! Ah, the mind games played when you are solo.

I was about thirty miles from Phonograph cabin and getting close enough to Glenn cabin to start searching. I navigate by landmarks on a map and by speed and time, called dead reckoning. By knowing the current speed and time in water you can estimate your position fairly accurately. It is quite accurate when you get use to it. I start to move back to the left shore to prepare for my setup. Glenn cabin would be a good stop for a quick lunch and to stretch my legs and back out a bit. Continuing on, left paddle, right paddle, left, right, left! “Oh crap I say to myself”. My paddle is stuck in some debris. I twist my back violently to the left and really yard on my paddle. At the same time I kick the rudder hard to port. This action slows and rolls the boat to port and I almost capsize her. Twisting the paddle I battle with the unseen enemy until it finally releases. The Minnow pops to an even keel.” Wow, was that sporty I say to myself”. During the melee I did hear and feel a pop in my left shoulder. I paddle away from the shore to some what safer water. Resting the paddle on the cowling I check out my shoulder. I rotate it,” ouch, that hurts way too much” I think. I find that I can paddle, with pain, but I cannot bridge and get full power out of each stroke. I tell myself that,” this more than sucks”, but at least I am still under power. The Marine motto is, improvise, adapt and overcome. I will overcome even this serious and sporty condition.

Glenn Cabin is before me as I land on a narrow gravel beach. The cabin is still in fine condition as the Park Service maintains this wilderness lodging. I open the door to see two beds and a woodstove. The cabin even has a small food cache for the unfortunate few that come unprepared or find themselves in deep trouble. I manipulate my shoulder listening to a whole new series of cracks, pops and groans from deep inside the messed up joint. I have some decent range of motion but with pain in both shoulders. I check for a separation on the left side with a weight and it starts to pull the tendons. This tends to indicate a separation! Not a good sign. My right shoulder is also making noises and hurts. Not much to do except take some Naproxen and aspirin for the swelling and pain. I relax while I eat some nuts, chocolate and dried fruit for lunch. After that I stuff my butt back into the cockpit and proceed to paddle the remaining 20 miles or so to Slaven’s. Being a Marine and high altitude mountaineer I have been injured worse and survived. This is just another walk in the Park.

I ride the main channel current and paddle lightly until I see Slaven’s Roadhouse on the left bluff, high above the river. This is a huge two story cabin! The 3 hour ride down from Glenn cabin has been uneventful and easy. Even the turbulence was diminished and ‘no rain’. I was pleased about this turn of events as it gave my shoulder a nice rest. I enjoyed the slower pace, for the first time, exploring the river and its breathtaking shorelines in a more relaxed manner. I was able to study and enjoy my surroundings thoroughly.

Approaching Slaven’s I made my approach carefully as to hit the gravel landing area. There is a canoe on the rock and gravel beach but this landing area is huge compared to most other beaches. The Minnow scrapes over the rocks as she glides to a stop, her bow beached, I lift my hurt body out of her cockpit and onto dry land. I drag her out of the water and breathe a relaxed sigh as I get out of my PFD and Goretex jacket. I think that it is nice to be on land again and to be erect and alive.

I hike up the hill to the cabin. Slaven’s is a large two story affair many times the size of Phonograph and Glenn cabins combined. I find the entry and walk into a small museum. Rocks are displayed and many pictures and historical displays adorn the walls. Going through another door I enter a room that looked like a Chinese laundry with cloths hanging everywhere. In the center is a large woodstove; to the left a bed with a sleeping bag. To the right side is a large table with four people sitting and enjoying good conversation. I recognize one of them, Carl, another National Park Service Ranger I met at Park headquarters in Eagle. He introduces me to his guests, Uve, Robert and Francisco. Uve and Robert are for Munich, Germany and Francisco is from Spain. They are canoeing to Circle, another 50 miles down river. I introduce myself and take a seat at the table after I am offered a beer. Yes, these guys have beer. Cold beer too! Germans are so cool! Of course, my beer is for medicinal purposes only. Yeah right! After a little chatter I checked out the upstairs and find a small kitchen and four bunks one of which had my name on it. A bed with a real mattress! Not a great mattress but it still qualified as one. I would be sleeping in high happiness tonight and no mosquitoes to boot. After this I finished my tasty Canadian beer, hiked back to my boat and hauled what I needed up to the roadhouse.

I have some medical training from my time in the Marines so I started to assess how bad or good things were. My left shoulder was hanging a little lower than my right, not a great sign. There was some swelling and my hand had some numbness. That would get worse over the next eight days on the river. My suspicion was a dislocation. That would explain some of the nerve issues. The ligaments were stretched and this also indicated a separation. All in all a sucky situation! Range of motion was limited and it was painful but not that bad. I have a very high pain tolerance. Circle had a road connected to civilization and was only a day out so I figured I would hang in until at least Circle. The decision maker was that Uve and his friends had no problems with me traveling with them. With the current I knew that I could travel as fast as a canoe. I would be safer traveling with a larger group. With that decided I hauled my gear up to the roadhouse, finished my delectable beer and prepared my dinner of MRE’s and fruit, dried of course.

Carl told me that Slaven’s is a turn of the century refurbished roadhouse situated at the mouth of Coal Creek. A hundred years ago it served up food and provided lodging for riverboat travelers and miners of gold on Coal Creek. Today it serves as a rest and relaxation haven for Preserve visitors, hunters, fisherman and kayakers.

He also told me about the gold dredge on Coal Creek. Carl said “it is a quick twenty minute hike to the dredge”. That sounded good to me so I picked up my camera and a water bottle and headed out to the trail to find this historical gem. Two things that I forgot in my haste to go exploring, bear spray and repellant. I fortunately never saw a bear. I saw lots of mosquitoes. They were terrible. Clouds of them and me with no deet! I ran a good portion of the trail both ways to escape them. The 80 year old dredge was worth the gauntlet of vicious little sucking machines. Fascinating old historical structure! I love history and all the artifacts that exist from our past.

The evening passed quickly talking with my new river mates as did a great nights sleep. I was taking the maximum dose of Naproxen at this point so I had to sleep on my back. Not the most comfortable way to sleep but sleep was needed and my bed was so very much appreciated. In the morning I felt as good as can be expected under the conditions and was looking forward to the paddle to Circle. After breakfast and repacking the Minnow we started down the river. This was different for me. I paddled one hundred and twenty miles in two days, about sixty miles a day. Today I would just travel fifty miles in about ten hours. A real easy day! Of course, it rained as that seemed to be normal with winds that were moderate in the storms. Fortunately the lightning was not as severe so we did not have to stop. I stayed mostly in the main current as this allowed me to relax and really enjoy the river and the lands that it flows through. This was unusual for me. On expedition I generally travel through the territory quickly. I do see a great deal but not as much as I could by slowing down. Today I was having a splendid time observing as I slowly floated by. I was connecting to the river in a way that was much more intimate. Occasionally, I would close in on the canoe and talk with my river mates. That was also cool. Being alone on most expeditions I get use to the solitude and desolation.

This section of the river was fairly easy. Turbulence was interesting and I saw my first large whirlpools, possibly as large as 50 feet in diameter. They would pull my kayak as if I had no rudder. The first one I entered startled me and took me a couple of seconds to figure out what was happening. A kayak is very maneuverable even with an injured occupant so I was able to get out quickly and cleanly. I became much more observant of these hazards. My shoulder just ached but worked well enough to maintain power when I needed it. My hand was numb in most parts, just that tingly feeling. That I did not like but what could I do about it out here.

Past Circle the Yukon opens up to the Yukon Flats. This is 300 miles of river meandering through Yukon Flats National Wildlife Refuge. Here the currents slow as the river gets wider. It also gets very difficult to navigate as literally hundreds of islands appeared on the river. But here we were still in the mountains with a good current and beautiful country. Circle was on the left back of the river behind an island and was difficult to see. Our key landmark was a final bluff along the right bank of the river. We moved closer to the left bank and saw the bluff. It was unmistakable, hills and then nothing but flat terrain for as far as we could see. Impressive! Searching the shoreline for our landing spot in Circle was a bit laborious as a shallow channel had to navigated to the boat ramp. After a few minutes of dragging the rudder on a gravel bar we found deeper water and a way to our landing. Once all the boats were beached and pulled out of the water we relaxed a bit and then walked around Circle.

Nice frontier town. They even had a washeteria, a communal building that has washers and dryers, bathrooms with showers and a tap for fresh water. A good place to get fresh water as the water on the Yukon is extremely silty. This silty water is not good for filters, just clogs them up quickly. I did get water from some of the small tributaries but it is much easier to push a button and watch clean water fill my bottles. Besides the washeteria, Circle has a small store that we checked out. Goodies are always welcome. I bought a can of fruit cocktail and some chocolate. Pogey bait is wonderful in a harsh environment. The fruit cocktail cost $2.45 so one has to expect to pay dearly for these little culinary delights. Above the boat ramp there was a small park-like area that we camped. We talked that evening and then went to bed in our tents. Big decisions would be made in the morning.

I had a major decision to make, whether to carry on or go home. My shoulder sucked, my hand was mostly numb as was part of my wrist now. It was painful and I knew it would not get any better. Uve was continuing down river, Robert and Francisco were headed back home to Europe. They found a local that would drive them to Fairbanks. I could get back to Tok and my truck the same way. Decision time! The next takeout point, Dalton Highway Bridge, was 300 plus miles and 8 days from Circle. Uve and I talked about my hanging with him to the bridge. His attitude was that was fine. My navigation skills through the Flats would be good to have. I figured that I did not drive 7000 miles to kayak 200 miles. I had enough Naprozen and aspirin for a month. Anyways, I really wanted to continue so we set off for the bridge and a new adventure.

The flats were just that, flat and the river was slower moving. I learned to read the river by looks and sound. The main current carried enough sediment to produce a hissing noise through the paddle. Listen to your paddle and it leads us to faster water. Even the cut-bank currents were slower and fewer. I became much more intuned with the river and the environment. I realized that this injury was a painful positive rather than a negative. I was learning and observing more than I ever would have had I been able to just overpower this thing. This had turned from a physical race to a learning experience. I loved this new pace. I was still in pain but it was very manageable and I was still in the wilderness.
That day become a new awareness of my joining with the land rather than just passing through on a physical challenge. My mountaineering skills allow me to get by when others succumb to the elements. These skills allowed me to possess huge capabilities to survive and enjoy the beauty around me. There would be difficult times but the Yukon has a way of mellowing one to see ten minutes ahead and forget the present which means forgetting the pain in my shoulders and the numbness of my left paw. Just float past wonders of the world in quietness and tranquility that only a select few are ever able to enjoy and savor. I was one of the select few and I thanked God that I was here, injury and all.

The currents that we followed this day were slow and mellow. One of the areas on the maps that concerned us was called halfway whirlpool. This we never seemed to have found but I did find some other large whirlpools, some as large as 50 feet in diameter. The first one kind of shook me up. I was paddling away on the opposite shore as Uve when my boat started to veer to port even though I had my rudder fully to starboard to counter act this. Thinking to myself, “my rudder had snapped off” I pulled it out of the water to check its condition. Condition was fine! Then I started to check the surface turbulence that I was stuck in and noticed the large circular rotation of the pool. I did not know these things existed in real life. I thought only in movies would you find such a large phenomena. All this analysis was accomplished in less that a minute. Things happen fast in the wilderness.

My kayak is extremely maneuverable so once the condition was analyzed I was able to remedy the problem quickly. Pushing deeper into the whirlpool I gained a little speed and kicked my rudder and added power with a couple of efficient paddle strokes. Soon I was looking at this whirlpool in my wake. I remarked to myself about how cool that was.

There were many turbulence problems like this on the river and it was a wonderful learning experience to be challenged and solve these problems. I think that I did pretty well considering all of them and the simple fact that I never took a bath in the river unless I wanted a bath.

Clouds had been developing all morning and by noon they were very thick. A new line of thunderstorms was developing so both Uve and I dressed in our best Gore-tex waiting for this new onslaught of rain and wind and lightning. Our wait was not long in coming. We were in mid channel when we heard a train coming out of the forest. Uve had never heard this before but I had. A micro burst was headed our way. I have been pounded by these storms in Montana while on land. I had never been in the water with one. I told Uve what was coming our way and it would be on us in a minute or two and it would be no fun. Just head into the storm, keep your heading into the storm and expect at least 50 miles per hour winds for about 5 minutes or so. After that expect heavy rain and lightning strikes! The winds came ripping out of the forest and onto the river with a vengeance. Waves were ripped up instantly with water torn from the surface and thrown into our hidden faces. We just tucked down as low as we could get in our boats and waited it out as water from the rains and the river pelted us. With the storm finally past us and rain falling in torrents I pulled over to Uve to see how he was doing. He was fine just wet and really impressed with the storm. I guess these things do not exist in Germany. We moved close into shore for a little safety if another one of these things was to beat us. The lightning was not as bad as it could have been and did not chase us of the water. The rain continued to pound us for the next forty five minutes diminishing as we moved away from the storm cell.

With the day finally drying out, a mix of clouds and sun followed us down the river. Getting rid of the gore-tex was nice. I could dry out a bit. That was a nice touch. In the flats the temperatures were nice, now possibly as high as 70 degrees, so with the exertion of paddling I was not cold at all. We continued to move forward but now looking for an island to call home for this evening. In the main channel we decide to checkout an island that caught both of our attentions. Low, flat with mostly gravel! This was going to be home for this night.

This was a pretty nice island with a log for our kitchen, sandy areas for the tents and just breezy enough to keep the mosquitoes away. We also found a companion ashore, Big Foot. Well actually Baby Big Foot. Being in the wilderness your mind becomes much more inventive and some say challenged. No radio, music, television or video games! Just your imagination and all the beauty and ruggedness that is your world at this time! Life is immediate! Life can end in one catastrophic event at any time. Your world is intertwined with death, beauty, natural violence and your own goals of spiritual renewal and physical challenge in the wilderness. Hence your mind becomes your entertainment box. No wires, no electricity, no tuning guide, just that masterful device we call a brain and within that brain your child like imagination. This is where Baby Big Foot came from.

One of the first items of discovery on a new island is an initial search to find out who else occupies your little spot in paradise. Mostly looking for things that will eat us, like bears. If your island is large you search areas that are likely areas for bears, on small islands we search the whole thing. On this island which was probably an acre or two in size a complete search was begun. While searching I found geese and duck prints. No bear or wolves out here and then I saw him hiding behind a tree stump. Another stump but this one with arms, legs, a torso and head! Wilson came to my mind instantly. We were not ‘Castaway’s’. Our situation not nearly as desperate as Tom Hank’s character but by this time my imagination was looking at the world differently then when I could turn on my imagination with a hand held remote. I picked him up, or her, and brought him back to the kitchen log. Setting him there I put my ball cap on him and he became part of the team. Pictures were taken and introductions given. Uve and I named him and then he became the camps mascot for the evening. Baby Big Foot became an integral part of the journey and our collective memories on this Yukon adventure.

Some wonder why I take the risks that are incumbent in these expeditions. The purity of the experience, the excitement but I think mostly for the solitude and enjoyment of the experience, and the ability to out smart some very challenging situations and the enjoyment of my imagination in all ways. Huck Fin on the Mississippi, Lewis and Clark exploring the Yellowstone region, adventure and a childlike feeling that all in the world is grand and less complicated than it really is. An escape into a world that is pure and simple, you either survive or perish in a wilderness that gives you unbelievable beauty and challenges you with difficulties beyond reason. In other words we are given a time of undeniable enjoyment even in times of deepest peril with a love of wilderness and a belief in our own prodigious talents and abilities. That is why we are there talking to a stump with a San Diego Padres ball cap.

Baby Big Foot Island was a perfect island campsite. We relaxed after our day on the water, vicious storms and all. Uve asked me if these storms were common and I told him yes. We talked about his home in Bavaria and his job as a police officer in Munich. I asked if he ever thought that he would be floating down a wilderness river in Alaska. “No” he told me. Just a dream that finally became fulfilled! We finished camp chores and made plans for tomorrow. I showed him how inaccurate the maps were in the area. I pulled a GPS reading and plotted it on a map. It showed we were camping in water. The island was too small to show up on a map. That is a problem in the flats. Many more small islands in reality than on maps! I told him just follow the river, it leads you and will take you to the sea. We talked about visiting Fort Yukon and being above the Arctic Circle. Nice evening to relax and get to know another person that looked at life in a similar vein. We retired to our tents and left the guard duty to Baby Big Foot.

Waking up early we packed up quickly so that we could travel the 50 miles to Fort Yukon. An unusual morning greeted us, no clouds and warmer. Pushing off into the turbulent river we paddled mile after mile under a warming sun and easy wind conditions. This was my sixth day on the Yukon and by far the warmest and driest and most pleasant. I found a couple more large whirlpools and was challenged by more turbulent water. My hand was numb as was some of my forearm and I was hurting but this was a great day. The suns warmth just penetrated my body and soul. At times I just basked in the heat. No rain all day. As late afternoon crept up on our river flotilla Fort Yukon appeared on the left shore.

Pulling into an area that would provide us enough room for tents we secured our boats and then walked into town to find a store and washerteria. Fort Yukon is a fairly large town stuck way back in the wilderness. All the streets are dirt with a few cars traveling them. The local Athabascans seem to prefer ATV’s thought. Many just cruised back and forth around town. Well the stores were closed until Monday morning. This being Saturday night I guess we were out of luck there. Never did find the washerteria! We did find some of the most hospitable people that I have ever had the pleasure to meet. The towns Baptist minister and his wife invited us into their home and gave us water, chocolate cake and ice cream and a place to charge my satellite phone and camera batteries. We sincerely enjoyed our time with David and Heidi and really enjoyed the chocolate cake. Back at camp a local Athabascan came by and we talked about Alaska, the river and his life as a native dependent on the river for food and a life. Many of his friends came by to visit. These people live in world of subsistence, joined to the earth in a way that many have a difficult time understanding. In some ways this is an easier life but much more dependent on their own resources to eat and to survive. Meeting and living like the locals has a tendency to change ones outlook on life. In many ways kayaking the Yukon changed me. That is why I will be back there next summer.

The local populations accepted us as one of them because they realize how difficult it is to survive on this river. We were much more like them than like our own cultures and they respected that we lived as they do, with a love of the river and the lands that are connected to the river. I was pleased to be here and to be understood by people that understood me and my ambitions. We finally went to sleep at 3AM tired but pleased with our time in Fort Yukon. We slept above the Arctic Circle for the first time. Cool!

This would be a more difficult day only in the sense that we were leaving a town that treated us so well on about 5 hours of sleep. After another MRE breakfast I packed up the Minnow and with Uve we pushed off into the wilderness and the land called the Yukon Flats. We talked as we paddled on this 7th day of my adventure. It had turned from a physical marathon to an experience that would change me and my ideas towards my next expedition. I was sore and hurt but already thinking about what was next.

The Yukon Flats are interesting in the sense that the river just meanders through islands that are way too intricate and easy to get lost in. Being lost here is not a problem, the river all goes in the same direction and destination. It just takes more energy and time. Out of Beaver, Alaska we took a “shortcut channel’ that was so slow of current that we had to paddle most of it. This added many hours to the river and lots of expended energy. It was pretty but I assume the main channel would also be pretty with lots less soreness and pain for me. A local told us about this shortcut. He was correct; it was a couple miles shorter in a motorized boat. In self propelled vessels time and energy have to be considered as our motors do not push us at 20 mph. A lesson learned for sure. I guided us mostly down the main channel. I listened to my paddle and searched for the easiest way with my eyes and my expanding knowledge of the river.

Soon the idea of a camp for the evening was upon us. We picked another gravel island for our evening’s camp. After setting up camp we walked around our new home looking for any signs of bears. We saw many footprints of large bears. These barren ground brown bears can be very difficult at times. I wanted to know if they were around. I love bears but also respect the heck out of them. I broke out the shotgun, loaded a couple rubber slugs and went to search out the islands. I searched one end of Bear Island. I saw more bear prints but no bears. The other end of the island was not searched as I was tired from a long day on the water and a lack of sleep from our time in Fort Yukon. We secured our boats, ate dinner and were tucked away in our tents by 11pm and probably asleep by 11:02. I would write in my journals the next morning. Sleep came to me quickly and pleasantly. In the morning large brown bear prints were next to both tents. We heard nothing as we slept!

Morning came as did another MRE breakfast. The usual regimen was to prepare food, pack my boat and then eat after my breakfast was warm. Each day the same! This was a little different though. We had traveled 200 plus miles of the Flats with only another 100 or so more to go. Only one more camp before the bridge and the end of my trip I suspected. My shoulder would not holdup to Nome, this I knew. The bridge was the last place to get out of the river with a road. Flying out was way beyond my budget on this trip. So moving down the river now was with some dread in the face of this knowledge.

This day’s weather was better than the last two, sunshine and warm, no clouds at all. We both basked in these splendid conditions. Even the river was somewhat less turbulent. She flowed with a steady 4 mph current. We watched a lynx walk the shore, he as much as us in amazement as to our presence. During the ten days of travel down the river we only saw two lynx and of course a mass of ducks, beavers, geese and other shore birds. If there was a disappointment this was it. We did see many bear and wolf tracks though. The river was unusually calm or maybe I was that much better kayaking but I was very relaxed moving from shore to shore exploring the river. Uve in his canoe stayed in the fasted currents. A canoe is much more difficult to maneuver, so I moved around testing my shoulder to see if I could continue to Nome. This would be our last day in the Flats to. In the distance I could see low mountains again. It would be nice to see hills and flowers and forests. The last 5 days in the Flats were gorgeous but these lands do not compare with the mountains. Maybe even see more animals there. This was an easy and wonderfully restful day. Got to work on my tan and enjoy a superb wilderness travel day.

Late in the afternoon we began to search for a place to sleep for the night. Night is such a misnomer here; it is light 24 hours a day. It never gets dark; I can read a map at 3 AM if I choose. We both spot a gravel island and discuss where to land. It is a large island with a great deal of gravel, mud and sand. We have found a decent place to land and relax. As our boats grind to a stop I extricate myself from the cockpit of the Minnow. Erect again, I walk around a bit to get my land legs back. A short distance from the boats I find large brown bear prints, fresh to. Uve and I search more and find more fresh prints. Ah I say, “this must be Bear Island II”. I think we will be sleeping with the shotgun this evening. After dinner, tents setup and a little cleaning we build a fire to relax around and dispose of some burnable trash. The boats are pulled up on land next to a small inlet off the main river. They are 15 feet away from the tents and all cleaned up and secured for the night. Uve and I talk about tomorrow and the bridge and plans past that. I am all most certain that I will pull off the river here as my shoulder is not good at all. It is painful and my hand and arm are numb most of the time. I have to sleep on my back. I am being forced out by injury; the river has put me on injured reserve for the season. That is life out here, at least I am alive. It could be much worse.

Sleep comes quickly after I enter my soft and warm sleeping bag. Uve wakes up first and is stirring around outside. He asks me why my boat is floating in the inlet. That gets me out of bed quickly. The Minnow is afloat and where she was stowed are large foot prints, bear prints. Close to both of our tents. Fortunately my boat stayed in the inlet and did not start its solo journey down the river. That would have been really bad. Uve and I heard nothing all night. We had at least one bear hanging out within 15 feet of our tents and he pushed my boat into the water without us ever waking. He was going after my boat for the food in it. It was properly stored but he could still smell it. We figure he pushed on the boat trying to get at the food. We just looked at each other in awe at the stealth of these animals.

It was time to pack and head on out to the Bridge and my takeout point. The sky was clear, warm temperatures greeted us already and the river was calm with no winds. The last three days were like this, warm, windless and blue skies. We gobbled our breakfast down and set out into the looming mountains. Fireweed carpeted the shoreline and slopes of the mountains. The river narrowed to three quarters of a mile with the current speeding up in the narrower canyon. I split and paddled to the left bank of the river to visit some fish camps. At a small point I encountered a huge whirlpool, almost 100 foot in diameter. The center was at least 5 feet in diameter and dropped about 15 inches. I expected to see Capt. Jack Sparrow and the Black Pearl. I paddled through the edge to get a good look. Impressive is all that I can say about this pool. I am sure that it was powerful enough to drag a person to its depths if one was unlucky enough to enter this monster. I passed this last massive whirlpool and continued on in fairly placid water. Passing hillsides of more fireweed I just relaxed and allowed the scenery to flood my brain. I headed back across the river as I knew that the pipeline and bridge were within the next turn of the river. Talking with Uve we saw it for the first time. It was really quite exciting but also a bummer as I could now see the end on my excursion on this great river. A barge was tied up to the commercial landing so we had to go around this large obstruction to the public landing ramp. Sliding to a stop on the gravel I got out of the Minnow for the last time on this trip.

Wow, this place is so busy. Trucks, barges, tug boats, people everywhere what a profound change. I think I want to be back in the wilderness. We pulled the boats up on shore and then went for a little hike towards the large buildings up on the flats above the river. There was a gas station, restaurant, hotel and a place to take a shower with real soap. I suspected that we were a bit ripe after 10 days on the river. The shower was 10 bucks, a little steep but that included a towel, soap and shampoo. We went back to the boats for some clean cloths, paid our money and became clean humans again. I could not believe how good this warm water from the ceiling felt. After the shower I shaved and this completed my journey back to cleanliness. After this Uve and I sat down to a great dinner of a hamburger and french fries. I even had some ice cream. We talked to some of the tourists and local workers. It was nice to sit in a chair again and enjoy dinner without cooking it ourselves.

I talked to some of the locals to see if a doctor was near. I really wanted to continue downriver and wanted to see if a doc could take a look at my shoulder and tell me everything would be better in a couple of weeks. I knew better but one can always hope.
Back at the river we setup our tents and relaxed the rest of the day. Sleep came early that evening.

In the morning Uve and I hiked up to get some breakfast and talked about plans. In the morning Uve would continue on. He ultimately made it to his takeout point in Russian Mission near the Bering Sea. I boarded a van that took me to Fairbanks and then another to Tok where I joined up with my truck again.

The journey back on the Alcan was a wonderful way to think about what I had just done. I paddled over 500 miles of backcountry Alaska with more than 400 miles of that with damaged shoulders. I was pleased with my adventure and happy to be heading home alive. Back home it was found that I separated my left shoulder with some nerve impingement and tore a ligament in my right shoulder.

It is now four months later and I still have to mostly sleep on my back. I knew that I could have made it to Emmonak but I am sure that the ocean section on the Bering Sea would have dispatched me into another dimension called a long Dirt Nap. I made the right decision albeit a hard one.

One question that is asked of me often, “do I consider this a failure”. I ask them how far they have kayaked or know of anyone that has kayaked 500 miles on a major wilderness river in Alaska. I was disappointed with the injury, of course. This is the price one can pay when attempting very difficult expeditions. Torn-up shoulders are actually a cheap price. Many injuries on expeditions end in death. I also did not ask for a rescue, just figured it out myself and attacked to a point where I was able to extricate myself.

Most expeditions never make it from the inception phase to the push-off stage. This little thing called funding dooms most plans. I consider any expedition that actually gets to the execution of the plan as successful. After that it is a crap shoot as to whether you will succeed or die. That line is extraordinarily thin. I feel very fortunate to have been able to paddle 500 miles on this great river. Fortunate to experience the solitude, beauty, danger and the wonderful weather of the Yukon Basin, to meet new friends and immerse myself in a wonderful culture and to survive to plan my next Arctic adventure.

Success is breathing after all is said and done. I am alive and well enough to plan my next expedition. Maybe this will be the one that dooms me but I believe that will not be the case. So is this a complete success, yes. I was able to execute my plan and survive.

The first day I paddled a respectable 60 miles, learned a great deal about the river and passed throught some wonderfully beautiful terrain. This section of the river is in the Yukon highlands. I pass canyons that lead to gorgeous valleys, bluffs collapsing on steep slopes right to the depths of this great river. The river, swift and bold with dangers all around. This was heaven on earth as I made my way downriver. Second day was the same, head down pushing the Minnow through treacherous waters for another 60 miles of surface travel. Sometimes this river has other ideas for my trip and for my life in general. Late afternoon on this second day would be one of those times. I dug my paddle deep on my left side only to realize that I was tangled with a sweeper lurking just beneath the murky surface. Passing by at 6 MPH in this shore current leaves little time for decision making other than knowing that I needed my paddle more than this river did. Twisting and snapping the boat to port I pull hard on the paddle. The Minnow is now beginning to list critically to port almost to the point of rolling bellyup. I twist the paddle and pull hard. The sweeper releases and the Minnow snaps back to even keel. Kicking the rudder to pull the nose from a collision with the quickly approaching shore we make it back to some deeper water and safer kayaking. During this 70 second fight I heard and felt a loud noise coming from my left shoulder. Now, this is not good at all. Stowing the paddle on the cowl I realize that my day is not ending as well as it had begun. My arm would not go above my head without pulling it with the right arm. I could not bridge the paddle nor could I lock my shoulder to get the power from my right hand stroke. I decided that I needed to make it to Slavens Roadhouse this evening and then check it out further. Might be medical aid there or at least a Ranger. What I was to realize in a few short minutes was that this was the best injury that I have ever suffered. Since my speed was reduced to basic current speed I could observe what I was floating through. No speed record now, just binos and a camera and incredible views. The Minnow also became a great reseach platform as I began to learn from the river and the wilderness around me. For the next 9 days I would paddle and float, camera at the ready and revel in the thoughts of the moment and beauty of the day. At Slavens I teamed up with Uve, a German that was canoeing with his friends. I mentioned to him once, ” in your wildest dreams did you ever think that you would be kayaking one of the great untamed wilderness rivers in the world”. We both remarked about how fortunate we were to be able to be on this river. We floated sometimes near, sometimes miles apart, immersed in our own adventure and the thoughts. I can thank the river for trashing me and opening my eyes to the beauty of a slower paddle and an opportunity to meet nature on her terms.

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