What a day. I woke up at 7AM, an early start by river rat standards. Last night we spoke with a young man named Charles about getting a boat ride from the Bering sea coast back to Emmonak.
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We woke up today at a beautiful campsite overlooking the river and a massive mountain range in the distance
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What a day. I woke up early in the AM and hopped out of the tent to go to the bathroom. What I saw left me more than excited. A foggy haze was rose off the river and for the first time in nearly twenty days, sun and blue skies. Right then I know today would be great.
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Trying. Today was a very trying day. Rain on the tent fly kept us in the tent until around 11AM, when a small window of clearing allowed us to breakdown tents and pack gear mostly dry. Fresh picked Alaskan blueberry pancakes and coffee hit the spot for breakfast.
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Cold, rainy and windy once again today. Packing up after breakfast the rain picked up and threw down on us, enough to ensure we were wet for most of the day. Despite the weather, spirits were pretty high. In the afternoon both Jackson and I confirmed our flights home from Anchorage to Montana. Jackson will leave the morning of August 22nd, and I the afternoon of the 23rd. The 23rd is symbolic date for me. August 23, 2017, I began my journey down the Mississippi
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Today was a tough one. I woke up to the familiar sound of rain tapping the tent fly. It had stormed hard all through the night and rolled on through the morning. Several times throughout the night I woke up to wind blowing my tent and left and right, feeling worried that it may cave in on me.
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It was a slow but enjoyable morning drinking coffee and taking in the river. Lots of rain throughout the day. Sometime around mid afternoon we ran into our Swiss friends near a creek bed where we were filling up water. Turns out, one of them had lost his rain jacket a while back. With how much rain and cool weather we’ve had recently, no rain jacket would be an easy excuse to have a miserable time, but our friend seemed to be in high spirits.
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The river continues to provide, intrigue and come full circle.
We woke up on a muddy bank near a patch of thick willow shrubs with our new Montana friends. A few large pots of coffee, some more talk of wild places and a hit of granola for breakfast set us up for the day. Before the Montana group pushed off Brett walked over and handed me a piece of torn notebook paper with his name and number scribbled on it. “See you in 15 days!”
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Rain tapped the tarp much of the morning. Surprisingly I was the first one of the group up. A rare occurrence for me. I collected some firewood to cook and make coffee on.
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For the first time in several days I woke up to sun shining through the clouds. I quickly grabbed my solar panel and attached the Inreach, setting it outside my tent to soak up some sun while I got up.
Jack and I made one cup of coffee, forgoing the typical second cup as we were running low on grounds. The small village of Grayling sat fifteen miles down river and we hoped to stop and find a bag of coffee.
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It had rained hard though the night. By the time morning had come I woke to the familiar sound of water tapping my tents rainfly. I laid my head back down and closed my eyes.
A short while later I rose to a break in the weather. Jackson and I used the window of opportunity to pack up our gear without being poured on. Luckily, we were able to get everything packed and coffee made before the rain returned. As we pushed off for the day a curtain of rain met us, giving a taste of what was to come for the day.
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Day 48
Rain pinned and tent bound
Within the first thirty seconds of waking up I momentary worried I had overslept. I unzipped my tents vestibule door and looked down river. Thick dark clouds filled the sky filled sky, brewin up cold and mean August storms. I relaxed an
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The day began hot once again. Running low on fuel for our stoves, we forewent the typical second cup of coffee. One the water the sun scorched our eyes and skin. I hopped out of the boat several times for a swim.
As evening approached we noticed the loud hum of a motor miles off. As it got closer, I tried to maneuver the canoe out of the path of the skiff, but it was headed dead toward us, and flying. Once close the motor died and a group of three leaned over the edge of the aluminum Allweld - “Whats up guys! Need a beer?”
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Photos from days 39-47 on the Yukon River.
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Day 37
Sun, Heat and Still Water
She was hot one today. I woke up baking in the tent, not able to sleep any longer due to the oven like temps. I instinctively grabbed for my water bottle. Empty. With only enough clean water to get us through coffee and breakfast I knew it would be a waterless morning, despite having clear, calm skies and glaring sun on tap for the day.
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I woke up in an oven with sweat running down my face. I unzipped my tent door and immediately felt a rush of cool fresh air. Jackson had gotten up just before me, and together we set the bug tarp back up for breakfast. Last night were some of the worst mosquitoes we have seen. The air was thick with the large, blood sucking bugs. The bug tarp, a tarp lined with mesh siding that encloses our kitchen and hang out area, has been a real saving grace.
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I’ve gotten out of the habit of journaling nightly and into the full groove of river life.
Wake up. Two cups of coffee with either hashbrowns or oatmeal, depending on the day. Pack up camp. Hit the water. Listen to the wind and sounds of the Yukon. Pass some time with a podcast or tunes. Look for a creek to find fresh drinking water. Look for a suitable camp. Scout out camp. Call it good. Take out gear, set it on large green tarp. Set up tents. Get dinner going. Relax. Repeat until reaching the sea.
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Both Jackson and I were excited to put the Yukon Flats behind us and get back into the mountains. The topo lines on the map show tall, steep cliffs closing in on the river's edge once again. After days of fighting through the labyrinth of islands and channels in the thickly braided Yukon Flats, the idea of the river closing into one solid flow again was enticing.
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I woke up this morning feeling the effects of last night's Rich & Rare Yahtzee game. I immediately wanted to chug as much water as I could get my hands on - the only issue was that we had no good water. The water from Old Lost Creek smelled and tasted like jet fuel. No good. The water from the Yukon is far too silty to push through a filter, and thus, a hangover with no water in the remote wilderness of Alaska ensued.
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We woke up this morning surprised to find that our friend the fox didn’t get into our food or pull the chords on Jacksons backpack in an attempt to yank a sack of grub off of the top of the large blue food barrel it was perched on. Nice.
The water we had filtered from a small standing pool found on the sandbar we camped on odly tasted like jet fuel, not that I’ve ever had any before.
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