Day 20 Yukon River
Somewhere outside of Circle, Alaska
July 4th, 2018
I woke up this morning with a tune in my head. As I jumped out of the tent I belted, “I’m proud to be an American, for a least I know I’m free!” in what seemed to be a combination of a cajun/texan accent. With a bounce in my step I wandered toward Jackson, who had already been up making coffee.
Today is the 4th of July, one of my favorite holidays of the year. The past five years I’d spent it in Steamboat, Colorado, with my parents and a great group of friends. This year I find myself sharing a 16 foot boat with Jackson, traversing the great American wilderness.
Following two cups of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal we packed up the boat and hit the water in windy conditions. As it turned out, that would be a common theme throughout the day.
As we paddled downriver the mountain tops of the Yukon-Charley Rivers National Preserve faded away in the southern horizon.
The river has changed dramatically today. The landscape around us has flattened out and the river has widened considerably, all while twisting and turning into a deeply braided creature. Islands litter the water, splitting the river into a labyrinth of channels and side sloughs. We did our best to stick in the main current where the water was widest and moving fastest. For the most part we navigated the newly braided river well. Sticking in the main current, however, means zigzagging across the valley and traveling in a serpentine fashion.
We also fought a stiff wind, which made the day difficult. Whitecaps occasionally spilled over the gunwales of the boat, putting water at our feet. We still managed to have a good day and make good mileage though.
Before finding camp we stopped at the outlet of a small stream to pick up some clear drinking water (as opposed to the muddy, silt filled water of the main Yukon). As Jackson was filling up he noticed bear, moose and wolf tracks all within the same 25 yard stretch along the bank of the creek. He called over his shoulder while filling up water, saying the wolf tracks were by far the biggest he’d seen yet. He described the massive paw and claw marks freshly pressed into the mud.
Shortly after, with the wind still howling, we found a suitable camp spot on a small mud/gravel island. Dead tired and hungry from a hard day making miles and fighting wind we set up camp without saying a word to each other until dinner. Not out of spite, but purely out of being utterly worn out.
After a quesadilla and pasta dinner we sat around the fire reminiscing and enjoying the spot we were in.
For the first time this trip I had a bit of longing for civilization today. I’ve always had such a great time on the 4th with friends and loved ones. I missed that a bit today.
As I write this, birds sing, the sound of fire crackles and the sun puts out a magnificent soft orange sunset throughout the northern sky. Alaska is amazing, and the great American wilderness ain’t to bad a place to spend the 4th of July.