Mary and I hitch from Fairbanks to Eagle, float a canoe to Circle, then hitch back to Fairbanks.
August 2013 - Yukon River
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Thirty-five miles today. Though we were in no hurry, the allure of paddling kept our vessel steaming along the rivers pulse. The time too had an undercurrent, a thing already in motion on whose back we were riding, and slid away with each pull of the paddle and twist of the wrist. We lay on the float making up songs or remembering those others have made, reading aloud, imagining a history of this landscape being formed by mythical creatures, and wordlessly breathing in our surroundings.
It is a powerful place to find yourself in the midst of a quiet torrent, murky surfeit spreading to an outrageous reach in all directions, tucked in the folds of mountains, clefts of rocky cliffs, and and surging down along its wild, muddy banks.
We keep wondering when wildlife will show its face - could be our singing and reading warns them miles off and having no desire to see our faces, keep their distance and cover. The fowl of the air, however, are visible and in great number. Small families of ducks touring from one side of the river to the other, gulls calling down and circling around to follow with chatter, sandhill cranes chortling their recognition, ravens croaking and clucking of more than we'll ever know.
At Nations Bluff public use cabin, we got in the exit lane just after Nations river, and pulled off to hike the short trail in to the cabin for the night. Instead of rushing up to the cabin, we sat right down for dinner by the rivers rush, unwilling to leave this companion grown so dear today, any earlier than necessary.
The cabin was built by and once home to Phonograph, a single fellow called such for his filling of silences in conversation with an unending chorus of "and-uh, and-uh, and-uh's". Though he sought a lady love to join him in the solitude of his life here in the back of beyond, he died alone amidst the sighs of the trees.
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| Making a record of our visit to Phonograph's cabin |
After his friends found him, he was floated back up to Eagle to be buried amongst civilization and society, a stranger steadied for his final rest with the populous he so long avoided. We thought on Phonograph some, then turned our attention maybe somewhat like he would have - playing cards, laughing in the flickering shade of lantern light.
Squirrels chuck-chuck-chuck chided from the rooftop as sleep wandered into the room, skittering about above tin-can shingles for the best vantage point from which to tell just how it is out here in the wild.
Bidding farewell to Phonograph and his cabin in the morning, we carried packs back down to the waterside and pushing canoe down into the flow, set out down the river for the third day. It is amazing to consider how swiftly the memories of individual days flood into one stream of thought, as the river blends delineated instances into one torrent of time.
Twenty-five miles swept past us as we came upon the inlet of Kandik River, river right and up into the mouth a quarter mile to the public use cabin. Illnesses acquired prior to embarking on our trip but reasserting their presence more and more each day since we left, wore us down and laid us out, so we were today trilled to crash into the cabin and rest.
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| What mythical creature crafted this rocky goblin cabin? |
This cabin replaced one that was further up the Kandik, until the flood of 2009 mangled it, and what it didn't mangle it took down river as playthings. Some generous folks recently rebuilt this fine cabin and we now sleep cozy in it for a night. The normal-sized door and ten foot tall roof peak set it in contrast to Phonograph's old crouched home and crawl door. He might have a lot to say about how much harder all this space would be to heat in the dead of winter, and-uh and-uh and-uh, how much more heat might easily escape with such a foolishly tall door.
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| Mary hones skills |
Mary practiced the art of wood-chopping in the shallow light of my headlamp, her determined features lighting up against the darkened outlines of forest and river. The log-book told how a bear had been in this area two days before. Though my ears played many hopeful tricks, no bear showed.
In the morning we rise to conquer the river! And promptly lay back down for a nap, feeling rather puny. After a few hours, we try again. A dragging pack-up later we were back out at beside the boat. The sun shone, the water sparkled - we stopped right then and there for a fine swim in the clean, cool Kandik River.
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| Ptarmigan near Nations cabin (the "p" is silent) |
Drying in the sun, thinking ourselves alone for miles, a couple in a motor boat swooped in the Kandik to check on the cabin. We wondered at their affiliation - park rangers? and if there was some shirt/shoes requirement in the woods, but as they were far enough off we lazed along just as we pleased. Filling all the water vessels from this wonderfully silt-free source, we pushed out on the river for a fourth day.
The day went from side to side, showcasing the momentous and ancient geology. There are rocks exposed here that came into being over 3.4 billions years ago! We paddled between these ancient formations while the river whittled them away, grain by grain. More birds thronged the river. Beavers are supposedly around these parts, including up the Kandik we were recently at, and damning the place; to a watery grave, I suppose.
A few hours before sunset our day slid off on the bank by Slavens Roadhouse. The part-time interpretive ranger lives here for 10 days and is then off for 4 days, when he is flown out to Fairbanks. Mary and I tried to talk him into giving us his job, but he skillfully rebuffed our attempts at persuasion.
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| Taking turns riding and pulling in the shallows |
Here at the roadhouse, pieces of paneling from Fort Egbert back in Eagle are in use and on display. Inside the building, we encountered the motor-boaters of before, in full river civilian regalia this time, a couple out for some ill-fortuned fishing. The male, speaking of his poor luck, stood up to walk across the room, and doing so, hooked his shoes on the lazy pole and began spooling out his reel with each step. He said he'd done the same earlier in the river today, with a snag, and had snapped his reel off before he could get the engine started to take in some of the line. Yukon River wins again! The couple apologized for "interrupting your privacy earlier," we laughed, "it didn't bother us any." The ranger told of a 2-3 year old black bear in the area to keep an eye out for, as we went out and up the hill to the smaller cabin for some of that very privacy.
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| Nations cabin |
Tonight's dwelling was modern for the Yukon - could house at least 6, had a big wood stove, conventional kitchen counters, benches and a table. Funny how such small conveniences seem so grand when conveniences are so few. After dinner, we skipped back down to the river to witness the sun disappear in a fiery blaze beyond the hills. The view was punctuated by mosquitoes which thought our standing still an invitation to drain us of our lifesblood. Before we could swat, a thinly-fuselaged double-winged creature appeared, beating in fast routes around us, snapping up its meal of man-biters from our midst. This large, gorgeous dragonfly stayed with us for nearly 10 minutes, devouring mosquitoes while we stood stock still.
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| Terns (?) |
The failed fisherman of earlier was aways up the bank, trying his luck again. He may have begun to wonder about the state of his noggin if he beheld our statuesque stance stretching on for such a span of time. The dragon hovers so close to my face, the wash of air from its wings ruffles my hair, flutters my eyes. The golden orb setting in the west glints off the purple and silver frame of this bright living creature batting about the air before us unafraid of its existence. We fairly giggled with delight from the images dancing in our brains while retracing steps back to the cabin for a quiet night.
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| Black-legged Kittiwake (maybe? could also be Ross's Gull) |
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