Alsek – Day 6

Twisting layers of sedimentary rock on the shore of the Alsek river in Canada

We slept in today. Not even sure how long, as Caroline and I are not traveling with anything that keeps time. This allows us to get on nature’s schedule of awake, tired, sleeping, and waking instead of being beholden to the mechanical gatekeeper gods of the calendar. Others were by now moving about, too, with the telltale sounds of a boatman in the kitchen working on bringing breakfast into reality. Before we emerge, we attempt our ablutions within the coziness of the tent. After a hot day, it’s easy to convince oneself to test the cold waters, but after a toasty night buried deep in a sleeping bag, there’s no way to consider going and placing any part of the body into near-freezing water. Even with an itchy scalp producing a snowstorm of flaking activity on its way to building dead skin glaciers, there’s a limit to the discomfort that won’t be tested this morning. While the head will continue to suffer, the stinky parts are treated to vigorous scrubbing with trusty camp wipes.

The Alsek River in Canada

Somewhere between this attempt at personal hygiene and breakfast, the tent is broken down, stowed, and blam; I need to visit the unit – must have been the coffee. My trek over to the unit proved less than fruitful, for while the body was willing and able, poop mountain was too close to eclipsing the event horizon with my knuckles recoiling in horror. Fortunately, my bowel obliged and constricted the imminent movement that felt so urgent seconds before. Resigned to wait, I leave slightly disappointed but simultaneously happy that I “can” wait!

Boating on the Alsek river in Canada

Rafts packed up, we are once again moving downriver in the hunt for another campsite.

The Alsek River in Canada

We’ll hit quite a few small rapids on this short stretch, with a couple large enough to have a cold water splash in our faces.

The Alsek River in Canada

We ran downstream for about an hour before pulling over to explore a place.

Moss next to the Alsek River in Canada

While the others ventured off for a short hike up a knob, I stayed back near the river to check out the small stuff.

Wild flowers along the Alsek river in Canada

Such as flowers.

The Alsek River in Canada

Found some bear tracks that were quite faded and filmed the nearby small rapids. In these quiet moments alone, I go looking for small details, not just in my surroundings but also within. Contemplating the solitude of the bear moving through a landscape that is its own or the accumulating gravel across the river on a cascade of ice that, in all likelihood, is there all year round, I try to better understand this place that I’m only momentarily allowed to visit. I wonder how, over time, this small corner of Earth appears alive as the river runs through its veins and the mountains shed rocks and boulders as they grow up or fade away. These fleeting thoughts produce few answers and leave me wanting to know more as I try to dig deeper into my mind to discover the questions that will help produce insights that prove so elusive.

Squirrel next to the Alsek river in Canada

Sitting down on a rock, ready to take some notes about the day so far, a couple of squirrels come in for a visit. They were not looking for food; I guess that I’m the first person they may have ever seen. My imagination suggests that they are intrigued to see these two-legged animals with weird, colorful skin that offers zero camouflage ability. After not much more than a few seconds taking in the situation, they go about their foraging as they brush aside sand and dig just below the surface. All the while, as one of them works, the other remains vigilant in observing the surroundings to ensure their safety. These plump guys probably make for good eating if you are a bird of prey. And then they scurried off, as it was likely they heard my travel companions returning before I did. Writing will have to wait for another stop.

On the Alsek river in Canada

Heading to another adventure on the Alsek River in the middle of Nowhere, Canada. See the raft on the river for scale.

Mt. Blackadar along the Alsek river in British Columbia, Canada

A perfect example of a hanging glacier can be seen from the river as we start our approach to Mount Blackadar. As Caroline and I know part of this routine, we already know that we’ll be camping on the other side of this mountain in front of a giant and somewhat dangerous glacier.

A random glacier emerging next to the Alsek River in British Columbia, Canada

Some of these photos might seem a little blurry; well, I’m shooting from the river with less than optimal lighting conditions where the brightness of the snow and sky wreak havoc on getting a decent exposure on dark rocks and deep green forest in the foreground. While I’m not trying to win awards with these photos, I do want them to bring us back to this extraordinary day when we traveled a corridor that very few humans have ever seen with their own eyes.

Tiny mushroom at the Serengeti on the Alsek river in Canada

Somehow, all of a sudden, it’s mid-day and time for lunch. We are at the Serengeti, as it is known, due to the abundance of wildlife that can be spotted here. While Mexican-inspired wraps are being prepared, I’m investigating what might be out here besides the obvious giant mountains, glaciers, river, and trees.

Grizzly bear paw print in the sand along the Alsek river in British Columbia, Canada

This grizzly bear paw print was headed northeast, hopefully on the way back to the Yukon. Getting down and smelling the bear print, I could tell that this female passed through here three days ago, so I need not worry that she was still in the area. Okay, that was royal bologna, as I just made that up, but it made you think a moment, didn’t it? Near to the paw print was a single cub’s print, traveling with mom’s.  I believe it was at some time on this day we passed from the Yukon into British Columbia; maybe it was yesterday, not that this detail has any bearing on things.

Wolf print next to the Alsek river in British Columbia, Canada

No sight nor sound of wolves anywhere during this trip, just this paw print to let us know they are present.  Time for lunch.

Dryas octopetala found near the Alsek river in British Columbia, Canada

We are off for a hike over hill and dale, looking for the perfect spot to catch a glimpse of whatever wildlife might be present or even these lovely dryas. This robust and nearly ubiquitous plant has followed us from the first day of our trip, and still, I do not tire of admiring it.

Heart shaped orange and grey rock found river side on the Alsek in British Columbia, Canada

It’s not every day that walking along you look down and see a heart-shaped orange and grey rock, but here in British Columbia it just may be more common than one might imagine.

Soapberry along the Alsek river in British Columbia, Canada

While they may look yummy or poisonous, depending on your perspective, these are, in fact, soapberries. This particular version, I believe, is the shepherdia Canadensis, commonly called Canada buffaloberry. If I’m correct about the species, then this fruit is edible, though it is bitter and, in larger amounts, can cause bowel irritation due to the saponin, which is the chemical that also gives this berry its name related to soap.

Looking back towards the Alsek river from the Serengeti in British Columbia, Canada

From the top of the hill, we can look back towards the Alsek from the informally named Serengeti. Somewhere down there are our rafts, and I have to admit that every time we leave them (well tied up for sure), I’m a bit nervous that one will break free and make a solo voyage down the river without us. Fortunately, this has never happened, well, except that time in the Grand Canyon on the Colorado at Black Tail Canyon, where fortunately, an eddy caught it, keeping it a prisoner and safe for our return in its swirling waters.

Dryas octopetala found near the Alsek river in British Columbia, Canada

Yeah…..I really do have a thing for this stuff. Its formal name is Dryas octopetala (I hope), and is related to the rose. The genus is named after the dryads, the tree nymphs of ancient Greek mythology (thanks, Wikipedia).

Bruce Keller and Echo Miller looking out towards Mount Blackadar along the Alsek in British Columbia, Canada

Our trip leader, Bruce Keller, with his partner Echo Miller, took a moment to relax and gaze upon Mount Blackadar.

Frank "First Light" Kozyn in front of Mt. Blackadar on the Alsek River in Canada

This was probably my favorite photo of Frank “First Light” Kozyn I shot. Here he is in front of Mount Blackadar. This mountain must have some important history, as I keep pointing it out; read on.

Caroline Wise and John Wise in the Serengeti next to the Alsek river in British Columbia, Canada

Caroline and I, with our fat heads, blocked the view of Mount Blackadar behind us. Mount Blackadar was named after Dr. Walt Blackadar, who first kayaked Turn Back Canyon on the other side of this mountain back in 1971 at the age of 49. That solo journey, which has been compared in significance to the first ascent of Mt. Everest, earned him the respect to have the mountain standing sentinel to Turn Back Canyon named after him. Like so many other river adventurers who risked their lives to see and experience a thing, he became a vocal proponent for the protection of our riverways.

Pauly Borichevsky chilling in front of Mt. Blackadar along the Alsek river in British Columbia, Canada

This is our boatman Pauly Borichevsky chilling in front of you-know-which mountain.

Back on the Alsek river in British Columbia, Canada

You know that mountain that looked so close? You know, Mount Blackadar. Well, it was nearly two hours away, sure it looked like it might be 15 minutes away, but that is a trick due to the scale and magnitude of this landscape. On this leg of the river, we encounter an incredible number of “S” turns that have us constantly on the move staying away from where the water piles up against walls.

Stopping next to the Alsek River to collect drift wood for our fire in British Columbia, Canada

Collecting driftwood for our campfire later today. Firewood is essential for us as we use it to boil river water for washing dishes; it also makes for a toasty place to warm our cold feet. This collection is a bit different than other days as we need two days’ worth due to us staying on a layover in front of Tweedsmuir Glacier before our helicopter portage over Turn Back Canyon. While Dr. Blackadar survived a kayak run of this treacherous canyon, we would surely die if we attempted to run it in rafts.

The geology along the Alsek river never fails to inspire here in British Columbia, Canada

By now you may start wondering just how long can this blog entry be. Well, it’s only about 1,400 words so far, but I can’t help but share better photos I shot on this day. Out of 207 photos only 23 are being posted and how can I not when images like this are exemplary of the spectacular geology on display?

Along the Alsek river in British Columbia, Canada

This could be one of the sides of Mount Blackadar, but my memory isn’t so good that I could be certain of this. Whatever it is, I found the patchwork of rock and green spots compelling enough that it had to join the batch of images being shared. It was also our last quick stop before making camp. This one was to collect fresh drinking water.

Wildflowers along the Alsek river in British Columbia, Canada

After we landed the rafts, I mean inflatable cruise ships, at our final stop of the day, we dragged them ashore and deflated them after removing everything else we were traveling with. One thing we couldn’t unload or deflate was the ever-present mosquitos. With no wind in sight, they hang out like grotty teenagers intent on bugging the shit out of you. Thirsty assures us that this is nothing compared to what’s up in the Arctic, somehow I’m not feeling so much better. A late chat into near darkness with Pauly, Thirsty, Keith, Caroline, and I was a great elixir that delivered us to sleep that night.

Alsek – Day 4

The first time Caroline and I woke during the night, it was somewhere in the hazy hours of late, but the stars were visible through the dusky light of the northern summer night. The hope when peeling out of a cozy sleeping bag is not to spot a bear in camp. Instead, it is the wish to catch a glimpse of the northern lights; this wouldn’t be one of those occasions.

Sunrise over Lowell Glacier and the lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

The next time we woke, our Scottish travel companion Willie was in the kitchen tending to the fire, about to put on some coffee. We weren’t done yet with this waking business and rolled over once more to enjoy the silence of the wilderness playing in the background while breakfast of French toast and sausage was being prepared for our culinary enjoyment.

Ice in Lowell Lake on the Alsek River in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

Meanwhile, on BergTV, the waltz of the ice was turning into a vortex dance that appeared to be nature’s attempt to trap our rafts. Little does the universe seem to know that we are on a layover day, which will keep us right here at Camp Lowell, and so rafts are of no use to us. Though I shouldn’t speak too soon, as they are our pantry and ultimately our means of escape.

Ice in Lowell Lake on the Alsek River in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

Watching ice melt in ice-cold water is the glacial region’s version of watching paint dry; then again, paint doesn’t reflect a vast landscape and beautiful sky as it rearranges itself in a constantly shifting display of its ability to float effortlessly in its space. The wind picks up, driving the ice over to a couple of nearby coves. The side effect of the wind is that it acts as a kind of mosquito repellent, making the cold wind coming off an icy lake a double-edged sword. With our heads now free of the pesky high-pitched engines of mosquito terror, we can return to BergTV. Some of the group have departed for a hike up Goat Herd Mountain.

Caroline Wise knitting socks at Lowell Glacier and the lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

The rest of us are sitting lakeside, watching ice dynamics as we await the next big berg event. Caroline is multi-tasking as she continues to knit a pair of socks she’s been making me; the goal is for them to be finished while we are still out here on the Alsek River.

Icebergs in Lowell Lake on the Alsek River in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

The inflatable cruise ships are already free of their ice prison, ready for our departure tomorrow. The show doesn’t fail to entertain us as the noise of shifting ice and rolling unseen bergs captures our attention. In the background, a performance of hydraulic acrobatics is at work; we can only crane to see hints of bergs finding their balance again once they’ve pirouetted and bowed a curtsy to another passing berg. Even as the sun beats down relentlessly, trying to influence the geometry and placement of the dancing ice, we struggle to witness signs that something big is about to happen. This paint dries imperceptibly and slowly.

Icebergs in Lowell Lake on the Alsek River in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

The hikers return early as high water levels stopped them on their way to encounter a mountain and the extraordinary views it offers. Just then, the action on BergTV picks up with a larger berg breaking up, sending a chunk over to another group to disrupt their tranquility in the glittering sun. Calm returns, but we will remain vigilant, awaiting the next bout of high-intensity adventure that is playing out in the lake before us. Vigilance was short-lived as, maybe due to today’s ever-present sun, naps were in the cards for nearly everyone or were contagious. Whatever the reason, Mr. Sandman visited us and took us away. Caroline somehow escaped our moment of shuteye and, upon my waking for what must have been the fourth time today, advised me that I had missed nothing, as the lake, too, appears to have napped.

A Yukon fly known by their buzz which sounds Canadian

Speedy little ants scurry about in the sand, and I wonder what their lives are like during the long winters. A fly has been sitting on my leg for more than five consecutive minutes; I think it’s looking at me like we’re looking at the icebergs. I tried to photograph a spider, but they move too fast, faster than the ants, and nearly as small.

Icebergs in Lowell Lake on the Alsek River in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

While I was napping and just hanging out, contemplating life this afternoon, I was skirting around thoughts of how little and how much technology is present out here. At first, you don’t notice the absence of the online world because of how many cameras, Kindles, watches, and the sort are all around. Then it hits you that none of them are online, and four days into this journey, you’ve not heard a phone, gotten an email, or given a squat about what’s going on with social media. On the other hand, there are constant references to Google as though the entirety of information is within it. I suppose it’s easier to use it as a point of reference than to remember the article about an Arctic tern from a doctor attached to the University of Michigan back in 1987, and so we just point it out as having come from Google. Even without the online universe, it is ever-present. The notes I journal are intended to be married to my hundreds of digital images and posted to my blog upon my return. I jot down reminders of things to look for, like, “What is the name for the smell of wet earth?” – Google reminds me it is Petrichor after I get home. In this sense, our technology is now as integrated into our daily lives as much as we are dependent on clothing to deal with the various elements we encounter through our planet’s weather.

Caroline Wise in Kluane National Park in front of Lowell Lake Yukon, Canada

My profound love for this woman cannot be adequately shared through the many examples of all that she does for me. More often, it feels like almost everything is for me and little for herself; she is truly selfless. It feels as though she has asked me dozens of times today if she can get me something, do something for me, or give me a friendly nudge to put on some sunblock. She offers another smile, another hug, and yet another exclamation of her love for me. I’ll look over at her, knitting my socks, holding a needle pursed between her lips with her short hair blowing around her chin, and think about how much I’ve loved her for nearly 30 years.

I can hardly believe that she loves being out here in the dirt, wind, cold, occasional stink, mosquitoes, sunburn, the threat of bears, and peeing behind some small rock for a bit of privacy, but here she is, full of enthusiasm with enough left over to help me. With the occasional return of my sciatica, moving heavy stuff can set off excruciating pain for me, but there she is, helping me move my gear. She’ll take our clothes to the lake and wash them in the icy water and afterward, we help each other wash ourselves. This can be a small chore when washing with cold water while wind and mosquitoes trying to get in on the action, and so having someone nearby to lend a hand is one of life’s little luxuries out here in the wilds.

Ice harvesting in Lowell Lake at Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

The first big laugh of the trip is about to be had. Willie and Keith went fishing for a chunk of iceberg for tonight’s drinks. With only one small berg near shore, they grabbed a couple of pieces of driftwood, small trees really, and tried to grapple the ice to shore. That ice was about 8 feet out, and they were as close to the water’s edge as could be, and still they could just barely hit the most desirable piece of a glacier that would exist today. Willie finally made contact and was able to bring that giant ice cube within less than six feet of shore, but then it hit gravel and was going to travel no more. What to do? Keith showed those of us watching this hunting excursion how to take a leadership position; he stripped down until he stood there naked from the waist down and marched right into that 34-degree water to secure the berg for hauling it back to dry land. Later, when watching our fellow travelers chop off chunks of berg for their libations, I can only laugh at the image of tonight’s ice being courtesy of a nearly naked man with the dangly bits aflutter harvesting bergs for a right proper inebriation ceremony around the campfire.

The Unit (toilet) overlooking Lowell Lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

Notes from the Unit: Perched thirty feet above the camp sits the toilet, also known as the Unit. The view is spectacular, offering a full panorama of the Lowell Glacier and a great view of Mount Kennedy when conditions are right. Flies have found our little hideaway, but of course, they would, for while the view is nothing less than amazing to us, the occasional waft of the 18 pounds of other people’s shit blending with mine creates an aroma that must be as sweet to flies as the view is to us.

After my main order of business is done comes the cleanup. It is about right now that I have my first pang of anxiety as I dip my hand below and pray that my knuckles don’t come into contact with the poop mountain developing below me. Even getting the toilet paper together to begin this operation is a trick here in the wind because the paper wants to fold and twist like a flag, proudly announcing that this is my perch. Satisfied I’ve done the best I can, it’s time to light a fire to the paper evidence that I’ve been here. Next to the Unit is a paint can where we deposit the soiled TP. From there we grab the fire starter and do our best to burn away the trash. As for my own discarded fecal waste, gravity will merge it into an unsightly stew of shit, all multi-colored and of varied textures, a testament to how much fiber and alcohol consumption is in each of our diets.

Looking at camp and kitchen at Lowell Lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

Tonight’s dinner is being prepared in wind gusts of 25 to 30 knots. It’s so strong that Pauly has rocks on the pot lids, and Jill is holding down the serving table. While great for keeping the flying pests at bay, it wreaks havoc on trying to get through your meal while it’s still hot. Besides blowing sand, we dined on Caesar salad, al dente pasta with smoked salmon in a cream sauce, and toasted garlic bread.

Steve Alt (Sarge) and Frank Kozyn (First Light Frank) celebrating birthdays at Lowell Lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

With a Dutch oven-baked cake with frosting and sprinkles, we celebrated the birthdays of Sarge and First Light Frank. These two inseparable guys are some of the greatest people anyone could ever hope to have joined on a river trip; this is our third trip with them. Love them both.

Sitting shore side for a nightcap at Lowell Lake Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

An obligatory nightcap to a setting sun brings closure to another day on this river adventure.

Alsek – Day 3

Still some snow on the mountains along the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

It rained overnight, but by morning, it’s dry again, though we have a pretty healthy amount of cloud coverage. Our gear is packed up and ready to go by 6:00, which might have been considered late by everyone ready to go yesterday at 5:30. The boatmen lightheartedly lament our efficiency because it puts pressure on them to get breakfast done and put in on the river early. Pauly is in the kitchen cooking up BBQ sausage, eggs, and potato scramble with toasted English muffins. Bruce is adding some air to the rafts to bring their pressure back up, while Thirsty tends the fire that is heating our dishwater. Before we push off, we have a bit of rain, but rain up here is to be expected. If it snowed, none of us would be surprised.

The white bit of rock is known as an "Erratic" in that it's obviously from a different area and was deposited by a glacier. On the Alsek in Yukon, Canada

Back on the river, we continue to have some sporadic light rain as we paddle south. Passing a random cliff, Bruce points out this granite boulder among the rocks. It’s obviously out of place and is what is known as an “erratic.” These are remnants of a retreating glacier and are deposited as they roll off the ice. We spend the next hour looking for other erratics.

Juvenile bald eagle next to the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

While scanning the landscape for erratics, we spot this juvenile bald eagle looking upriver. It didn’t appear interested in us in the least; I guess there’s something to be said for being one of the apex predators out here.

Mountain Avens part of the Dryas family of plants along the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

Mountain avens, also known as white dryas, seem to be everywhere along the river. What you don’t want to see this close and so frequently are bears. We were out here at the gas station, I mean, bend in the river, collecting firewood, when the raft that had been behind us pulled up and said they’d spotted a grizzly heading our way, that it was moving with purpose, and that we should too. I yelled at Caroline to get out of the thicket and make haste to return to the raft. With no further sign of the bear and confident that we had enough firewood, we were once again making our way down this flooded thoroughfare.

Standing on the end of the terminal moraine of Lowell Glacier in Yukon, Canada

By the time we reached the left lateral moraine of the Lowell Glacier, the skies had been clearing for a while. This hike up the moraine held fond memories as it was from this area that we first saw the Lowell five years earlier.

Lowell Glacier in the Yukon, Canada

We were stunned as we crested the moraine to see a glacier that begged the question: what happened? Our guides Pauly and Thirsty, who’d been out here a couple of weeks before, said there had been no ice on the lake then, so at least we had some bergs now, but the retreat of the face of the glacier was huge in my memory. Upon getting home, I compared photos, and it was obvious that the ice was in retreat and thinning. The nunatak (a big rock solidly stuck within the glacier, also known as a glacial island) is also more visible and pronounced.

Mount Kennedy in the distance standing over the Lowell Glacier in Yukon, Canada

At the bottom left is the face of Lowell Glacier. Bottom right is some bergs in the lake and just behind them on the right is a small glimpse of the nunatak. That giant mountain in the background is Mount Kennedy, named after our very own President John Kennedy, and is a part of the Saint Elias mountains and still within Kluane National Park in the Yukon, Canada. The President’s brother, Robert Kennedy, holds the distinction of being the first person to ascend the peak back in 1965, the first and only serious mountain climbing he would ever do.

John Wise near Lowell Glacier in the Yukon, Canada

Now, back where we parked the boats, it was lunchtime and a moment for me to pull up a rock and jot a few things down in my notebook. Throughout a river trip, you’ll likely see me somewhere nearby doing just this.

Icebergs in Lowell lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

After lunch, we had some fast water and minor rapids to contend with before entering Lowell Lake. Water level, wind, and ice typically make the entry worrisome for boatmen as most anyone who’s been out here more than once usually has a story about paddling into the wind or pulling rafts through shallow water after hoping to avoid a portage so early on during a river trip. So, while the lake has considerably fewer icebergs than on our previous visit, lucky that it had icebergs at all, and the water level was high enough that it was smooth sailing.

Caroline Wise and John Wise on Lowell Lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

No selfie sticks were used in the production of these photos. If it weren’t for these photos of us in these kinds of environments we may not believe that we were here 20 years from now. Even while out here, there is a kind of ethereal, otherworldly nature where finding a distinction between dream state and reality is just a tiny bit tenuous. We constantly ask ourselves, “Are we really this lucky?”

Detail of a small iceberg in Lowell Lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

Detail of a small iceberg on its way to being an ice cube.

Lowell Glacier in the Yukon, Canada

While the views are reminiscent of our previous visit to this remote corner of Earth, they bear repeating.

Lowell Glacier in the Yukon, Canada

Pulling ashore to make camp is always exciting; this was made more so as it felt unbelievable that we’d occupy this small corner of such a vast landscape for a second time.

William Mather and Caroline Wise at Lowell Lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

This is William “Willie” Mather and Caroline, who, until I got their attention, had been looking over Lowell Lake and further onto the glacier. We’d met Willie on a rafting trip on the Yampa back in 2014, and then a couple of years later, he was passing through Arizona, so Caroline took him on a hike up Camelback Mountain, which offers the most commanding views of Phoenix. Sadly, I couldn’t go as business wasn’t affording me the opportunity, but was able to catch up with the two of them for dinner at our favorite Mexican restaurant, “El Conquistador.” If there was one thing you should know about this guy, it is that he’s a hill walker, an avid hardcore walker who needs to be on the move. Someday, we hope to visit him at his home in County Angus, Scotland.

Looking north in Kluane National Park near Lowell Lake Yukon, Canad

Same view from our tent site as on our visit five years ago. The beach where I bathed last time is underwater, and it’s getting so bright and hot that I’m finally giving in to putting on the sunscreen that my wife consistently nags me about. The weather is so nice that I break out my solar panel to start recharging the battery we are lugging around that runs my CPAP. I have sleep apnea, for those that don’t know what a CPAP is. A CPAP is a device that ensures I keep breathing during the night; yep, I’m out here doing this kind of stuff even though I have to remain tethered at night to a machine.

The view back towards camp from Lowell Lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

If you look closely, you might see the orange tent of our trip leader, Bruce Keller, over onshore. The other two rafts are to the right of the tent. With the camp, kitchen, and the unit set up, we were heading out on the lake in our inflatable cruise ships for a three-hour tour. Okay, so it wasn’t a three-hour tour, but I couldn’t resist the cultural reference to my childhood….you know, the Gilligan’s Island theme song???

Icebergs on Lowell Lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

While there are not a lot of bergs, the ones that are here are monsterish enough to be extremely dangerous if we were too close when they roll over. Speaking of, we were lucky enough to see one rolling over in the distance. I don’t think we were out an hour, but close to it. I probably would have never been truly satisfied unless we rowed out to the face of the glacier for an up-close and personal encounter, but the boatmen assured me that it would take a couple of hours of rowing to reach the main body of the glacier and that it would be back-breaking work if the wind kicked up. The way I see it is that this then leaves another reason to come back for a third visit, though the wife is more interested in the Kongakut River for our next Alaska adventure. Come to think of it, I could probably be talked into considering a trip down the Hula Hula up in the Arctic.

Thirsty's raft in front of icebergs on Lowell Lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

That’s our boatman Thirsty on the oars, and now, with some human artifacts in front of the icebergs, you can get an idea of the scale of stuff that we are looking at. The rock on the right is that nunatak again, and my pictures from five years ago show the glacier higher than this nunatak with the glacier wrapping around the front of it. This all makes me wonder if, within my lifetime a rafter might come through here and be lucky to even see snow on the mountains in July.

Lowell Glacier in the Yukon, Canada

Back in camp, nothing to do but wait for dinner and hang out. It’s not a bad life being an adventure traveler.

Lowell Glacier in the Yukon, Canada

After three days out here, it was probably polite of us to dip below the skivvy line for some proper de-stinkification therapy. So we slunk off to our personal tent front pond instead of the lake with all the bobbing water chilling iceberg chunks; the only problem with our much warmer water is that the mud oozing between the toes has a distinct fecal kind of feel. Through our team effort, we were soon squeaky clean, feeling like a million tiny sparkly iceberg bits shining in the sun.

Sunset on Lowell Lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

Tonight’s entertainment was brought to us by Mother Nature, who was parading a cavalcade of ice driven by the wind right past us. In the background stood Mount Kennedy, holding vigil over the sky to ensure that everything that could look perfect did so. From the calving glacier and rolling icebergs rumbles, thunder, and heavy claps sounding like gunshots travel over the lake to complement the lapping waves at the shore. The whole time, the glistening water surface forces us to squint to find details in the blinding evening sun. As our sun slides westward, its changing intensity illuminates the bergs in shifting colors that move from opaque blues to greens while the thicker slabs look like city blocks of snowpack where no light passes through. Like clouds in the sky the various forms the ice takes shift from appearing like a Christmas tree to an anvil or the Loch Ness Monster. Then we spot two dolphins leaping out of the water, a swimming bear holding on to a ball, and even a body lying down; alas, it was all ice.

Caroline Wise knitting a pair of socks for John Wise at Lowell Lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

I’m guessing it’s getting late, though it’s hard to tell as the sun simply slides lower across the horizon. On my right, Caroline is knitting my next pair of socks. She has a needle in her mouth, her face is golden and a little bit burned. Her nimble fingers knit and purl, and occasionally, she smiles as she listens in with half an ear on the ribald conversation of some of the guys who have had a few drinks and are hanging out by the fire.

While it was downright hot earlier the chill of the evening combined with the wind coming off the glacier and lake in front of it has us bundling up in some warm clothes. The first yawn of the night just escaped Caroline as she announced it was time to find the motivation to go move her own water. Minutes later, we are asleep.

Last Day in Alaska

Caroline Wise at Oomingmak Shop in Anchorage, Alaska

It’s not always easy to know what’s important when it is so, and so it happened back in 2012 following a monumental experience that took us down the Alsek River out of the Yukon into British Columbia, and finally delivered us to Dry Bay, Alaska that all the important stuff was duly noted and extensively blogged about using near 30,000 words and just under 200 or so photos. Well, that was 11 years ago, and in looking back I realized that I neglected writing of our last, equally important day, of our first visit to this corner of the earth. Now in 2023, I’m going to try and repair that by including what I can about this day in the Anchorage, Alaska, area.

Had we done nothing else, Caroline required that we make a pilgrimage to the Oomingmak Co-Operative. This is possibly the only place on our entire planet where one can walk in and buy a handknit object created from a fiber known as qiviut, which comes from a rare northern creature called musk ox. The “Pack Ice” headband design Caroline is wearing will likely forever remain the most expensive small article of clothing she will ever buy at $130. And, as she reminds me, she chose the “discount option” because the yarn of this headband is 80% qiviut and 20% silk. No matter the expense, I’m certain Caroline will forever cherish this rarest of luxuries and how it will remain a part of her first experience in the wilds of Alaska.

Seward Highway thru the Chugach National Forest in Alaska

I’m barely into the narrative that accompanies these photos, but with the 21 images I’ve included here and then the realization that I only used about an average of a dozen photos per day in the original blog entries, I feel I need to return for further investigation of how I whittled nearly 5,500 photos down to the tiny number I shared. I do know a huge contributing factor to my possible lethargy in tackling more: I had just recently finished writing, editing, and publishing my seminal (and only) book titled Stay In The Magic about the Grand Canyon rafting adventure on which we had marked back at the end of 2010 prior to this Alaska trip and I’d had enough of venting my heart and mind. Looking at this railroad track, I’d like to try the corny, “That train has left the station,” but knowing me, I’ll revisit those directories of old photos and see if I might feel enticed to add a little something here and there.

Seward Highway thru the Chugach National Forest in Alaska

After two weeks in this environment, nothing had grown old. Every vista was spectacular and held an incredible amount of mystery as at best, we could only glimpse the tiniest of surface views regarding what the environment holds beyond the first glance.

Seward Highway thru the Chugach National Forest in Alaska

Our flight doesn’t depart until shortly after midnight, so we are driving somewhat aimlessly southeast until we know that we need to turn around.

Seward Highway thru the Chugach National Forest in Alaska

We are driving along the Knik Arm of the Cook Inlet, where the waters flowing out of Portage Lake head to the open sea.

Seward Highway thru the Chugach National Forest in Alaska

The telltale turquoise watercolor lets us know that a glacier is ahead.

Seward Highway thru the Chugach National Forest in Alaska

Oops, almost forgot to stop and smell the flowers, a lupine in this case.

Seward Highway thru the Chugach National Forest in Alaska

Looking across Portage Lake at a glaciated area. I don’t think this is part of the Portage Glacier.

Seward Highway thru the Chugach National Forest in Alaska

This was as close to Portage Glacier ice as we were going to get, the remnant of some broken-off ice that drifted across the lake.

Seward Highway thru the Chugach National Forest in Alaska

The road turned to the west, taking us past a bunch of lily ponds; if only we were present when the waters were still and reflected the surrounding mountains.

Kenai Peninsula in Alaska

This was the end of our exploration of the Seward Highway today. After reaching the Welcome to the Kenai Peninsula sign, we decided this should be the time to turn around, as reaching Seward or Homer was out of the question due to our limited time remaining in Alaska.

Caroline Wise at Turnagain Arm Pit on the Seward Highway in Alaska

Having a beer and BBQ at the Turnagain Arm BBQ in Indian, Alaska, on the Seward Highway because even if we had to stop for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Kool-Aid, this would still be one of the greatest stops for dinner ever. Does the sunlight have you thinking I meant lunch? Well, it was 7:00 p.m. when this photo was taken.

Anchorage Coastal Wildlife Refuge in Alaska

We’ve stopped at the Potter Marsh area after spotting birds galore, and everyone knows that this is exactly the right number of birds to arrest our attention and force us from the car to inspect all of them.

Anchorage Coastal Wildlife Refuge in Alaska

Unless you live in Alaska or some other northern clime, I’m guessing it’s not every day one sees a great black-backed gull chick.

Anchorage Coastal Wildlife Refuge in Alaska

I’m calling it “Arctic Tern with Midnight Snack.”

Anchorage Coastal Wildlife Refuge in Alaska

I literally crawled on my belly, as monumental as it is, to approach this tern from a distance I would have never guessed possible.

Anchorage Coastal Wildlife Refuge in Alaska

From this point, until we reach the airport, I’ve not been able to identify the park we visited, but who cares? Just take a moment to enjoy the warm sunset (9:15 p.m.) light illuminating the grasses in the woods.

Anchorage Coastal Wildlife Refuge in Alaska

More flower-smelling time.

Anchorage Coastal Wildlife Refuge in Alaska

Do you know what they call a daisy in Alaska? Daisy.

Anchorage Coastal Wildlife Refuge in Alaska

And with this last late-day photo, we pointed the car towards the airport to catch our flight.

John Wise, Caroline Wise, and Daniel Billotte flying out of Alaska

We were seated and waiting for a couple of late arrivals, and as one of those stragglers was walking down the aisle, I nudged Caroline and told her that the guy approaching looked a lot like a guy we’d not seen in 5 or 10 years, Daniel Billotte. Of course, she said, “NO WAY!” So, as he started to pass us, I kind of blurted out Daniel under my breath, not directing exactly at him, but his head snapped; sure enough, it was Daniel. How on god’s green earth are we running into this guy on a midnight flight out of Alaska? I’d like to say stranger things have happened, and while this is up there in the unbelievable department, we’ve had our fair share of the No Way.