Day 52

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. The rain continued as the rest of the crew got up, and by mid morning the six of us were huddled around a campfire on our second large pot of cowboy coffee, telling stories of wild places and wild people. The company of this group is much welcomed, and they seem to be on a similar tripping wavelength as Jack and I. 

Jim, a thin John Lennon type figure with a beard thicker than the congo, told tales of the Wrangell Mountains in Southwest Alaska, and the lawless mountaineers and bush pilots of Mccarthy, Alaska. We all shared stories and tales of our favorite wild places and basked in the beauty of river life and past trips. 

With the rain still falling by early afternoon, both Jack and I and the “Canoe Camp Boys” (whom all met while guiding boy scout trips for a camp in the boundary waters) decided a day off with new company would do us well. The rest of the day consisted of more of the same, baking bread, muffins and cooking an asian dinner while telling tales of wild places and the people who roam them. By the time I realized how long we had been BSing the day was gone and we had spent it standing in one small spot, barley moving, and it was great. 

At some point in the afternoon Brett shot Troy, his roommate in Montana, a text from my Inreach, asking if they still had a room available. Turns out, they do. Of all places to find a roommate in Bozeman, I find one deep in the bush of Alaska, on the banks of the mighty Yukon River. 

It's funny how these things tend to work themselves out. A leap of faith and the belief that things will work out, and if they don’t, it will be OK- goes a long way, and in my experience, usually turns out well.  Far better than those around you who haven't taken such a leap themselves would leave you to believe. 

I enjoyed burning logs on the fire and talking with Jim, who was by all accounts now an official Yukon character on this journey. A deeply intelligent man, and well versed in politics and the global political climate, he seems to have cast academia for a life on the loose. Late at night, as darkness set in and the campfire roared Jim read three poems from Robert Services book “The Spell of the Yukon”. He strategically puffed a lucky strike cigarette to add dramatic effect to the reading. I enjoyed both the poems, and his reading of them. A group of good guys who, now that it seems as though I’ll be living with Brett, I’m sure i’ll be seeing more of. 

Tomorrow we plan to hit the water and aim for a big day. I’m hopeful for still water and calm skies.   

Now, as I lie in the tent I thumb through “The Spell of the Yukon” and try to fall asleep, all while pondering the experience of this trip and what it means in the trajectory of my life.