8/8, Thursday
7AM: alarm. Rain.
8AM: alarm. Rain.
Rain stops and Pete gets up. I follow and start biscuits. Pete cooks eggs and onion and cheese. YUM YUM. But the meal has more fat that we are used to and Richard feels a little queazy.
Another arctic start, on the water at 11:30, in the rain. It lets up for lunch then sets in again late afternoon. We are paddling WWNW in this stretch in a mildly meandering river. We pass a small motor boat pulled up on the shore and spy a cabin tucked way back from the shore.
In the late afternoon we begin to see some trees, a very welcome sight.
Rain continues to fall as we scout our camp site. We are all damp and uncomfortable as we set up the bug tent and tarp. Still, plenty of energy to cook a meal. I carefully crush garlic into the pizza sauce and cut cheese fine.
32.5 miles covered on one of our hardest days. We are all eager to get off the river. Tired of being wet, cold, and deprived.
8/9, Friday
Rain stopped mid night and morning shows clear sky forming to the NW and a strong N wind. We sleep longer.
After breakfast I hiked up to near ridge and get a view. With a little sunlight this country shows very nicely. Andrew hiked further and found a large, beautiful lake.
In the PM we padle through Noatak canyon, the last place likely to hold any real hazards. Some big waves but they are easily avoided. Turns out to be a pleasant paddle. Coming out of the canyon we are pointed N into a strong wind and have to lean into it to make progress. The river turns west again and going eases. We pass 1 or two cabins set by the river.
Stop at Kugururok river and like it so much we decide to camp. It is a large tributary flowing in from the north with several channels of beautiful, clear flowing water.
Pete fishes but has no success. We are about to prepare freeze-dried when Andrew reports seeing several fish jumping at confluence. Soon we have 2 large Dollyvarden trout which cook up deliciously.
We are camped on this huge gravel bar, by a clear flowing river in a great place with old bone mountains in the distance to the east, north, and west. All evening the sun has slowly been sliding toward the horizon, providing ever richening light. Reminds me of being in the Land of Standing Rock in Utah.
What a contrast from yesterday when we were huddled under the tarp. Now we think if this weather holds we will just stay here another day.
After settling down in the tent I hear a growl, think its Pete's stomach, hear it again and now it is not. Looking up stream we see a mother and 3 cub bears coming toward us. I talk loudly to them and start getting dressed in case I have to move quickly and spend a while away from camp. They don't hear us until Pete stands up and says "You should know: I'm bigger than you" Which is a bluff but the mother hears, stands up for a better view, then takes off away from us.
8/10, Saturday
Clear. Breakfast on a double ration of pancakes. Meal lasts till 1PM.
I fish and soon pull in a big Dollyvarden Trout, clean and filet it. Spend rest of day reading and wondering around the gravel bar. I go check out the foot prints from last nights bear. From the depth I can see that when she took off away from us it was with a fair amount of force. The cubs, on the other hand, were just romping around and showed no particular concern.
Dinner at 9 pm: Fresh wheat berry bread, fish soup with peanut base and fresh onions (delicious by any standard), and more grilled fish. Every meal I eat up here is delicious but this meal is exquisite.
I sit out and watch the slow sun set till chilled then to bed.
8/11, Sunday
Can't sleep, thinking about return. Up soon after sun returns. Set up kitchen and brew tea and wait. Bake corn bread and get crew up.
Beautiful paddle today. More trees. I sure missed trees. Aesthetic channels. Latter we pass on to a large plain. The river bed is wide and often changing. Many large gravel bars with scrub vegetation. Camp on vast gravel bar - not aesthetic here. Cook bread made from double pizza dough with cheese, potato pancakes, brownies.
Read J-H-P chapter fishing and loss. Poignant description of sadness over loss of landscapes and beauty. I feel privileged to have seen this river and clean and untouched as it is. Another place I'll never be able to return to.
Wash my self and my pants in the evening light. I like living outside ... as long as it's warm, sunny, and bug free.
We amuse ourselves by batting rocks out across the water. The rocks make interesting humming sounds as they spin. I'm not very good at this.
8/12, Monday
Oatmeal again!
Clouds again!
Cold on the water today. Paddle more.
The channel shifts to much for the old maps to be much help in tracking our progress. Don't know how big Noatak village is and worry about missing it. We stay right and I survey the tree line for antenna. It can't be so small that nothing is visible.
Then, as we are looking for a lunch spot we round a bend and I see several large buildings in distance. As soon as I see them I think the journey is not over, just changing. But is it possible for me to continue to look at life as if I am on a journey?
8/13, Tuesday
Epilogue
After sighting Noatak village we pulled up on a gravel bar for one last lunch (hot ramen and crackers). Another 20 minutes of paddling and we pull up near the main boat ramp. Once I'm out I find I feel a little lost. Soon an old guy pulls up on his little 4WD scooter and chats with us in a slow soft voice, asking about our trip and if we have seen any carabao. We decided to check out the village before unpacking the canoes.
First stop is the store. An anticlimax after our large meals of the past few days - I don't remember what I bought. But I do remember wondering around in wonder and the selection available.
I make some calls to arrange a flight out. We are mostly of two minds as to getting a flight this evening or spending a night in the village. After a few calls it looks like an evening flight is not an option then I'm directed to a local agent in the village. We find him out working on some plumbing, and inquire about flights. He jumps on his 4WD scooter and disappears, leaving us to chat with his partners. They ask softly about our trip and if we have seen any caraboo. I report on our sightings then ask if they have seen any. They know exactly where the big herds are and where they are heading. One says that when the snow comes he'll ride out and shoot a couple. I realize that for hundreds of years up here, when travelers met one of the first questions was always "Have you seen any caraboo?"
The agent returns and we have a 5 PM flight. Back to the canoes to unload. The canoes get left with an agent for the outfitter. The outfitter said that the locals have a loose sense of personal property. When he was paying his agent a fixed annual fee he was loosing canoes. When he started paying per canoe returned many more started turning up. I can see how a small, remote village would not be well served by the strict sense of personal property that I am accustomed to.
We quickly sort through our gear and get it transported to the air port. The plane lands, someone gets off, we get on. We're in the air. The plane makes it's noisy way across the last 50 miles of the Noatak and Kotzebue sound. We had the option of canoeing this section but I think it would have been less aesthetic that most of the river that we did see. And the big water of Kotzebue sound could have been daunting for us guys in open canoes.
So we land in the airport and taxy to the Hagland Air terminal. The folks at Hagland are very friendly. They recommend some restaurants and offer to keep our stuff in the hanger till we return.
First stop is Alaska Air terminal where for a small fee we change our tickets to tomorrow departure. We walk through town and settle on a Chinese restaurant were we have a very satisfying meal. Next to another restaurant to get some shakes.
Finally back to the hanger to get our stuff and camp for the night. But what is this? The hanger is locked at no mechanic in sight. 22 days in the wilderness and not a single uncomfortable night. Now our first night in civilization and it looks like we'll have to bivi.
I walk round the building and find a way through the fence. On the other side of the fence I'm able to jimmy the door to the office but the office-hanger door is secure.
Someone else shows up looking for the mechanic. He offers to jimmy the door for us. This is Alaskan hospitality: "Can't get your stuff out of the hanger? Here, I'll break into the hanger for you." I tell him it's no use. Eventually he finds the mechanic, who like everyone else we have met, turns out to be a very friendly guy. He gives us a ride out past the airport where we can camp then stays and chats for a while about life in Alaska and killing things.
In the morning we board the plane and fly Kotzebue to Anchorage, Anchorage to Seattle, and share a cab home. When I'm dropped off at home it is dark for the first time in 24 days.
I think we were all surprised at how quickly we got back home. I was eager to return but once home sorry that I had missed out on spending some time in Noatak Village and Kotzebue, both interesting places and very different than where I live.