Alsek – Day 5

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Sunrise over Lowell Glacier and the lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

We woke early and started breaking down camp quickly. Breakfast was a slapdash of oatmeal and bagels followed by a faster-than-usual cleaning of the dishes, clearing away of the fire pits, and loading the boats, all to get out of town before the wind made an appearance.

An iceberg that may have once been mighty reduced to an ice cube in Lowell Lake Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

We are getting out of town because Lava North is on today’s menu.

Cliffside on the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

Whatever sightseeing I want to do will have to happen from the river; no time for lingering as big white water is beckoning.

Lowell Glacier in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

Leaving Lowell Lake, we are following a different route than during our previous visit five years ago. There will be no stop to hike up the western terminal moraine of Lowell Glacier, no camping at Sam & Bill’s campsite where we had a near-encounter with a grizzly bear; we are heading directly to the scout location for what awaits us.

Looking at shore while on the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

Rough-hewn earth is a constant companion down this river, as the Alsek and its silt-laden flow are always cutting away at the channel we are attempting to navigate.

Rafting on the Alsek river in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

We’ve run a few rapids and made quick time to a pullout just above Lava. While everyone else clambers through the thicket along the shore to look into the ferocity of the meanest rapid on the Alsek, I hang back not feeling the need to create more anxiety than I’m already feeling. Lava’s namesake rapid lies in the Grand Canyon down on the Colorado River. On that journey, you will find Lava Falls; it and Crystal are the two man-eaters that pose significant threats to life and safety, so that they are revered and respected for their ferocity. A level of seriousness engulfs everyone’s first encounter when approaching these rapids; these are places you do not want to swim.

 

Caroline Wise and John Wise about to run Lava North on the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

If insanity could be embodied in water, then that is what we encountered in Lava North today. Tensions were high as the group returned to don our drysuits. By now, everyone is keenly alert. We wiggle and shimmy into these rubber lifesavers that will offer us some minor level of protection from the cold should we find ourselves in a position that is not hard to imagine but better that we don’t go there. We are primed and aware, while probably all of us are a little nervous. Bruce will be out front, then us with Pauly, and Thirsty will be bringing up the rear.

Two weeks prior, Pauly and Thirsty were already familiarizing themselves with the increased flow of the Alsek and had decided to run Lava on the right, possibly the first group to ever do so. This was only possible due to the Slims River being diverted by changes in glaciers further upstream that brought the flow of that river here to the Alsek, creating our high water situation. Today, the water was even higher than on their first run, and so it’s decided that we will be the second group in history to run this Class V rapid on the right.

Bruce pushed off, and he was holding a tight position next to the shore; we could hear his raft dragging on the gravel. As he approached a boulder, the water that should have created a fluid layer between his raft and the rock instead the raft grabbed hold and started to spin. It looked like he was getting set up to be in the wrong position at the wrong time. In an instant, Bruce shifted his raft from pointing at the channel sideways and straightened out his course, allowing him to plow headfirst into the maelstrom on the right.

At that point where he was and where he might be going is no longer important, as we are now just inches to the left of his track when we hear Pauly’s oar dig into the gravel. Pauly yells at full volume for us to get ready and pay attention. “DIG, DIG, DIG hard, you guys. Give it ALL YOU GOT.” Frank and Sarge are upfront with Pauly, barking for them to put everything into it while Caroline and I in the back are shoving our paddles into the churning river, hoping to add something to the group effort.

This is huge. Gnarly doesn’t begin to describe the roaring carnage that is threatening our continued existence. We are but frogs trying to stay alive in this boiling cauldron. This is like nothing else I’ve ever experienced.

We get past the Big Hole that could eat a house, passing it with only about 20 feet between us and it. We’ve just survived our first major obstacle, but we are not done yet. The tail wave slalom invites us into its roller coaster of gynormity that has been accelerated by its own encounter with the hole and the constriction it has escaped.

These waves are propelling us at what feels like light speed. Pauly continues the verbal assault, trying to compete in ferocity with the anger of the river he is trying to deliver us safely through. He screams at us to dig the goddamn paddles in deep and pull. A huge lateral wave comes out of the left and hits Frank dead on, pushing him into the center of the raft while another emerges from the right, almost taking Sarge out of the raft before the wave encounters me in the rear. As I emerge from the soaking, Pauly has ratcheted up his command voice and, with angry desperation, implores us to “GET REAL and give it all you got; your fucking lives depend on it.” We are heading towards a wall we CANNOT encounter. We are close to exhaustion but alive as we exit Lava North.

Drysuits laid out to dry following a successful run of Lava North on the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

The wave train was nearly a mile long, and according to Pauly, we were zipping along at about 15 miles per hour. The four minutes of intensity become timeless and infinite. We were being blended into a symbiotic moment with the churn and now know the chaos of water molecules exchanging energy on an exponential level, always succumbing to the gravitational pull of falling forward. We are guided by the rules of fluid dynamics and the mad skills of the person piloting the craft barreling through whitewater at the mercy of one of Poseidon’s henchmen.

Surviving that run, you know how intense adrenaline can pump just as you gain the tiniest glimpse of the hydraulics that create legendary whitewater.

Taking a break after surviving Lava North on the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

After doffing our drysuits and chowing on some lunch, it was a short hike up over a hill to get a view of the often elusive Fischer Glacier.

Fischer Glacier off the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

On our previous visit five years earlier, we wouldn’t have been able to spy on this mass of ice as it had retreated, but in the intervening years, it crept forward just enough that it made our short hike well worthwhile to be able to lay claim to having seen it with our own eyes. Clicking the image will bring up an image size of 2,950×655 so you can see greater detail.

Canadian rocks because western Canada rocks

Making our way to camp surrounded by an immensity of beauty, if you know where to look.

The Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

The river never stops flowing as it pushes its way through on its journey to the ocean. At times, we attempt to harness its energy to pull us along on an adventure that few lucky humans endeavor to make. We are some of those who will have had an encounter but will barely know the tiniest fraction of knowledge held in this landscape that is so inaccessible to so many.

Camp along the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

Here’s our camp set among the wildflowers of summer. Someone else likely felt the romantic pull of this location because just in front of our tent, there on the left in the foreground, I found a wedding band. A small corner of it was poking out of the sand, and the glimmer of sunlight caught an edge, drawing my eye in to see why a reflective surface just appeared in nature. With the ring in hand, I went and talked with our boatmen, two of whom confirmed that they had stayed at this campsite two weeks earlier. I asked if there was a chance that a couple was on that trip, and sure enough, there was. It so happens that after a run of Lava North, the outfitter appreciates a call on the satellite phone to confirm that all lives made it through the madness. On that call, Pauly requested the callback information for this particular couple, whom we would try to reach out to once we arrived at our next sat-phone check-in location towards the end of the trip. Until then, I can claim I found gold in the Yukon.

Rafts tied up for the evening on the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

As the day winds down and our dinner of jambalaya, cabbage salad, and biscuits settles in, the words to tell anything more of the day become more and more difficult to come by. So I’ll just sit by and watch the day bid adieu.

Boatman Thirsty on the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

This is our boatman, Thirsty. I can’t remember his real name, but this is his boatman’s name, and that’s how I know him. I also know that he’s a badass for taking people on some of the more difficult and desolate river adventures in the mosquito-infested lands of the Arctic Circle. While they sound damned difficult and often depraved due to the incessant buzz of millions of blood-sucking insects, the austere environment he describes when telling tales of those far away lands makes the adventure sound so appealing that we will now dream of a future trip with this hearty guy.

Near camp along the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

Sporadic sunlight might be one of the great effects in changing the appearance of the landscape as things shift between blue-gray and golden hues that illicit our oohs and aahs.

An Arctic Tern doing flyby's at our camp on the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

This seagull became a camp companion for a short while as it darted about over the water, looking for a flying meal. Back up the river, it would fly, only to make a U-turn and head back our way. Each time, it seemed to come a little closer as though it was checking us out, too.

Alsek – Day 4

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

The first time Caroline and I woke during the night, it was somewhere in the hazy hours of late, but the stars were visible through the dusky light of the northern summer night. The hope when peeling out of a cozy sleeping bag is not to spot a bear in camp. Instead, it is the wish to catch a glimpse of the northern lights; this wouldn’t be one of those occasions.

Sunrise over Lowell Glacier and the lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

The next time we woke, our Scottish travel companion Willie was in the kitchen tending to the fire, about to put on some coffee. We weren’t done yet with this waking business and rolled over once more to enjoy the silence of the wilderness playing in the background while breakfast of French toast and sausage was being prepared for our culinary enjoyment.

Ice in Lowell Lake on the Alsek River in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

Meanwhile, on BergTV, the waltz of the ice was turning into a vortex dance that appeared to be nature’s attempt to trap our rafts. Little does the universe seem to know that we are on a layover day, which will keep us right here at Camp Lowell, and so rafts are of no use to us. Though I shouldn’t speak too soon, as they are our pantry and ultimately our means of escape.

Ice in Lowell Lake on the Alsek River in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

Watching ice melt in ice-cold water is the glacial region’s version of watching paint dry; then again, paint doesn’t reflect a vast landscape and beautiful sky as it rearranges itself in a constantly shifting display of its ability to float effortlessly in its space. The wind picks up, driving the ice over to a couple of nearby coves. The side effect of the wind is that it acts as a kind of mosquito repellent, making the cold wind coming off an icy lake a double-edged sword. With our heads now free of the pesky high-pitched engines of mosquito terror, we can return to BergTV. Some of the group have departed for a hike up Goat Herd Mountain.

Caroline Wise knitting socks at Lowell Glacier and the lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

The rest of us are sitting lakeside, watching ice dynamics as we await the next big berg event. Caroline is multi-tasking as she continues to knit a pair of socks she’s been making me; the goal is for them to be finished while we are still out here on the Alsek River.

Icebergs in Lowell Lake on the Alsek River in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

The inflatable cruise ships are already free of their ice prison, ready for our departure tomorrow. The show doesn’t fail to entertain us as the noise of shifting ice and rolling unseen bergs captures our attention. In the background, a performance of hydraulic acrobatics is at work; we can only crane to see hints of bergs finding their balance again once they’ve pirouetted and bowed a curtsy to another passing berg. Even as the sun beats down relentlessly, trying to influence the geometry and placement of the dancing ice, we struggle to witness signs that something big is about to happen. This paint dries imperceptibly and slowly.

Icebergs in Lowell Lake on the Alsek River in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

The hikers return early as high water levels stopped them on their way to encounter a mountain and the extraordinary views it offers. Just then, the action on BergTV picks up with a larger berg breaking up, sending a chunk over to another group to disrupt their tranquility in the glittering sun. Calm returns, but we will remain vigilant, awaiting the next bout of high-intensity adventure that is playing out in the lake before us. Vigilance was short-lived as, maybe due to today’s ever-present sun, naps were in the cards for nearly everyone or were contagious. Whatever the reason, Mr. Sandman visited us and took us away. Caroline somehow escaped our moment of shuteye and, upon my waking for what must have been the fourth time today, advised me that I had missed nothing, as the lake, too, appears to have napped.

A Yukon fly known by their buzz which sounds Canadian

Speedy little ants scurry about in the sand, and I wonder what their lives are like during the long winters. A fly has been sitting on my leg for more than five consecutive minutes; I think it’s looking at me like we’re looking at the icebergs. I tried to photograph a spider, but they move too fast, faster than the ants, and nearly as small.

Icebergs in Lowell Lake on the Alsek River in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

While I was napping and just hanging out, contemplating life this afternoon, I was skirting around thoughts of how little and how much technology is present out here. At first, you don’t notice the absence of the online world because of how many cameras, Kindles, watches, and the sort are all around. Then it hits you that none of them are online, and four days into this journey, you’ve not heard a phone, gotten an email, or given a squat about what’s going on with social media. On the other hand, there are constant references to Google as though the entirety of information is within it. I suppose it’s easier to use it as a point of reference than to remember the article about an Arctic tern from a doctor attached to the University of Michigan back in 1987, and so we just point it out as having come from Google. Even without the online universe, it is ever-present. The notes I journal are intended to be married to my hundreds of digital images and posted to my blog upon my return. I jot down reminders of things to look for, like, “What is the name for the smell of wet earth?” – Google reminds me it is Petrichor after I get home. In this sense, our technology is now as integrated into our daily lives as much as we are dependent on clothing to deal with the various elements we encounter through our planet’s weather.

Caroline Wise in Kluane National Park in front of Lowell Lake Yukon, Canada

My profound love for this woman cannot be adequately shared through the many examples of all that she does for me. More often, it feels like almost everything is for me and little for herself; she is truly selfless. It feels as though she has asked me dozens of times today if she can get me something, do something for me, or give me a friendly nudge to put on some sunblock. She offers another smile, another hug, and yet another exclamation of her love for me. I’ll look over at her, knitting my socks, holding a needle pursed between her lips with her short hair blowing around her chin, and think about how much I’ve loved her for nearly 30 years.

I can hardly believe that she loves being out here in the dirt, wind, cold, occasional stink, mosquitoes, sunburn, the threat of bears, and peeing behind some small rock for a bit of privacy, but here she is, full of enthusiasm with enough left over to help me. With the occasional return of my sciatica, moving heavy stuff can set off excruciating pain for me, but there she is, helping me move my gear. She’ll take our clothes to the lake and wash them in the icy water and afterward, we help each other wash ourselves. This can be a small chore when washing with cold water while wind and mosquitoes trying to get in on the action, and so having someone nearby to lend a hand is one of life’s little luxuries out here in the wilds.

Ice harvesting in Lowell Lake at Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

The first big laugh of the trip is about to be had. Willie and Keith went fishing for a chunk of iceberg for tonight’s drinks. With only one small berg near shore, they grabbed a couple of pieces of driftwood, small trees really, and tried to grapple the ice to shore. That ice was about 8 feet out, and they were as close to the water’s edge as could be, and still they could just barely hit the most desirable piece of a glacier that would exist today. Willie finally made contact and was able to bring that giant ice cube within less than six feet of shore, but then it hit gravel and was going to travel no more. What to do? Keith showed those of us watching this hunting excursion how to take a leadership position; he stripped down until he stood there naked from the waist down and marched right into that 34-degree water to secure the berg for hauling it back to dry land. Later, when watching our fellow travelers chop off chunks of berg for their libations, I can only laugh at the image of tonight’s ice being courtesy of a nearly naked man with the dangly bits aflutter harvesting bergs for a right proper inebriation ceremony around the campfire.

The Unit (toilet) overlooking Lowell Lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

Notes from the Unit: Perched thirty feet above the camp sits the toilet, also known as the Unit. The view is spectacular, offering a full panorama of the Lowell Glacier and a great view of Mount Kennedy when conditions are right. Flies have found our little hideaway, but of course, they would, for while the view is nothing less than amazing to us, the occasional waft of the 18 pounds of other people’s shit blending with mine creates an aroma that must be as sweet to flies as the view is to us.

After my main order of business is done comes the cleanup. It is about right now that I have my first pang of anxiety as I dip my hand below and pray that my knuckles don’t come into contact with the poop mountain developing below me. Even getting the toilet paper together to begin this operation is a trick here in the wind because the paper wants to fold and twist like a flag, proudly announcing that this is my perch. Satisfied I’ve done the best I can, it’s time to light a fire to the paper evidence that I’ve been here. Next to the Unit is a paint can where we deposit the soiled TP. From there we grab the fire starter and do our best to burn away the trash. As for my own discarded fecal waste, gravity will merge it into an unsightly stew of shit, all multi-colored and of varied textures, a testament to how much fiber and alcohol consumption is in each of our diets.

Looking at camp and kitchen at Lowell Lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

Tonight’s dinner is being prepared in wind gusts of 25 to 30 knots. It’s so strong that Pauly has rocks on the pot lids, and Jill is holding down the serving table. While great for keeping the flying pests at bay, it wreaks havoc on trying to get through your meal while it’s still hot. Besides blowing sand, we dined on Caesar salad, al dente pasta with smoked salmon in a cream sauce, and toasted garlic bread.

Steve Alt (Sarge) and Frank Kozyn (First Light Frank) celebrating birthdays at Lowell Lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

With a Dutch oven-baked cake with frosting and sprinkles, we celebrated the birthdays of Sarge and First Light Frank. These two inseparable guys are some of the greatest people anyone could ever hope to have joined on a river trip; this is our third trip with them. Love them both.

Sitting shore side for a nightcap at Lowell Lake Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

An obligatory nightcap to a setting sun brings closure to another day on this river adventure.

Alsek – Day 3

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Still some snow on the mountains along the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

It rained overnight, but by morning, it’s dry again, though we have a pretty healthy amount of cloud coverage. Our gear is packed up and ready to go by 6:00, which might have been considered late by everyone ready to go yesterday at 5:30. The boatmen lightheartedly lament our efficiency because it puts pressure on them to get breakfast done and put in on the river early. Pauly is in the kitchen cooking up BBQ sausage, eggs, and potato scramble with toasted English muffins. Bruce is adding some air to the rafts to bring their pressure back up, while Thirsty tends the fire that is heating our dishwater. Before we push off, we have a bit of rain, but rain up here is to be expected. If it snowed, none of us would be surprised.

The white bit of rock is known as an "Erratic" in that it's obviously from a different area and was deposited by a glacier. On the Alsek in Yukon, Canada

Back on the river, we continue to have some sporadic light rain as we paddle south. Passing a random cliff, Bruce points out this granite boulder among the rocks. It’s obviously out of place and is what is known as an “erratic.” These are remnants of a retreating glacier and are deposited as they roll off the ice. We spend the next hour looking for other erratics.

Juvenile bald eagle next to the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

While scanning the landscape for erratics, we spot this juvenile bald eagle looking upriver. It didn’t appear interested in us in the least; I guess there’s something to be said for being one of the apex predators out here.

Mountain Avens part of the Dryas family of plants along the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

Mountain avens, also known as white dryas, seem to be everywhere along the river. What you don’t want to see this close and so frequently are bears. We were out here at the gas station, I mean, bend in the river, collecting firewood, when the raft that had been behind us pulled up and said they’d spotted a grizzly heading our way, that it was moving with purpose, and that we should too. I yelled at Caroline to get out of the thicket and make haste to return to the raft. With no further sign of the bear and confident that we had enough firewood, we were once again making our way down this flooded thoroughfare.

Standing on the end of the terminal moraine of Lowell Glacier in Yukon, Canada

By the time we reached the left lateral moraine of the Lowell Glacier, the skies had been clearing for a while. This hike up the moraine held fond memories as it was from this area that we first saw the Lowell five years earlier.

Lowell Glacier in the Yukon, Canada

We were stunned as we crested the moraine to see a glacier that begged the question: what happened? Our guides Pauly and Thirsty, who’d been out here a couple of weeks before, said there had been no ice on the lake then, so at least we had some bergs now, but the retreat of the face of the glacier was huge in my memory. Upon getting home, I compared photos, and it was obvious that the ice was in retreat and thinning. The nunatak (a big rock solidly stuck within the glacier, also known as a glacial island) is also more visible and pronounced.

Mount Kennedy in the distance standing over the Lowell Glacier in Yukon, Canada

At the bottom left is the face of Lowell Glacier. Bottom right is some bergs in the lake and just behind them on the right is a small glimpse of the nunatak. That giant mountain in the background is Mount Kennedy, named after our very own President John Kennedy, and is a part of the Saint Elias mountains and still within Kluane National Park in the Yukon, Canada. The President’s brother, Robert Kennedy, holds the distinction of being the first person to ascend the peak back in 1965, the first and only serious mountain climbing he would ever do.

John Wise near Lowell Glacier in the Yukon, Canada

Now, back where we parked the boats, it was lunchtime and a moment for me to pull up a rock and jot a few things down in my notebook. Throughout a river trip, you’ll likely see me somewhere nearby doing just this.

Icebergs in Lowell lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

After lunch, we had some fast water and minor rapids to contend with before entering Lowell Lake. Water level, wind, and ice typically make the entry worrisome for boatmen as most anyone who’s been out here more than once usually has a story about paddling into the wind or pulling rafts through shallow water after hoping to avoid a portage so early on during a river trip. So, while the lake has considerably fewer icebergs than on our previous visit, lucky that it had icebergs at all, and the water level was high enough that it was smooth sailing.

Caroline Wise and John Wise on Lowell Lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

No selfie sticks were used in the production of these photos. If it weren’t for these photos of us in these kinds of environments we may not believe that we were here 20 years from now. Even while out here, there is a kind of ethereal, otherworldly nature where finding a distinction between dream state and reality is just a tiny bit tenuous. We constantly ask ourselves, “Are we really this lucky?”

Detail of a small iceberg in Lowell Lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

Detail of a small iceberg on its way to being an ice cube.

Lowell Glacier in the Yukon, Canada

While the views are reminiscent of our previous visit to this remote corner of Earth, they bear repeating.

Lowell Glacier in the Yukon, Canada

Pulling ashore to make camp is always exciting; this was made more so as it felt unbelievable that we’d occupy this small corner of such a vast landscape for a second time.

William Mather and Caroline Wise at Lowell Lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

This is William “Willie” Mather and Caroline, who, until I got their attention, had been looking over Lowell Lake and further onto the glacier. We’d met Willie on a rafting trip on the Yampa back in 2014, and then a couple of years later, he was passing through Arizona, so Caroline took him on a hike up Camelback Mountain, which offers the most commanding views of Phoenix. Sadly, I couldn’t go as business wasn’t affording me the opportunity, but was able to catch up with the two of them for dinner at our favorite Mexican restaurant, “El Conquistador.” If there was one thing you should know about this guy, it is that he’s a hill walker, an avid hardcore walker who needs to be on the move. Someday, we hope to visit him at his home in County Angus, Scotland.

Looking north in Kluane National Park near Lowell Lake Yukon, Canad

Same view from our tent site as on our visit five years ago. The beach where I bathed last time is underwater, and it’s getting so bright and hot that I’m finally giving in to putting on the sunscreen that my wife consistently nags me about. The weather is so nice that I break out my solar panel to start recharging the battery we are lugging around that runs my CPAP. I have sleep apnea, for those that don’t know what a CPAP is. A CPAP is a device that ensures I keep breathing during the night; yep, I’m out here doing this kind of stuff even though I have to remain tethered at night to a machine.

The view back towards camp from Lowell Lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

If you look closely, you might see the orange tent of our trip leader, Bruce Keller, over onshore. The other two rafts are to the right of the tent. With the camp, kitchen, and the unit set up, we were heading out on the lake in our inflatable cruise ships for a three-hour tour. Okay, so it wasn’t a three-hour tour, but I couldn’t resist the cultural reference to my childhood….you know, the Gilligan’s Island theme song???

Icebergs on Lowell Lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

While there are not a lot of bergs, the ones that are here are monsterish enough to be extremely dangerous if we were too close when they roll over. Speaking of, we were lucky enough to see one rolling over in the distance. I don’t think we were out an hour, but close to it. I probably would have never been truly satisfied unless we rowed out to the face of the glacier for an up-close and personal encounter, but the boatmen assured me that it would take a couple of hours of rowing to reach the main body of the glacier and that it would be back-breaking work if the wind kicked up. The way I see it is that this then leaves another reason to come back for a third visit, though the wife is more interested in the Kongakut River for our next Alaska adventure. Come to think of it, I could probably be talked into considering a trip down the Hula Hula up in the Arctic.

Thirsty's raft in front of icebergs on Lowell Lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

That’s our boatman Thirsty on the oars, and now, with some human artifacts in front of the icebergs, you can get an idea of the scale of stuff that we are looking at. The rock on the right is that nunatak again, and my pictures from five years ago show the glacier higher than this nunatak with the glacier wrapping around the front of it. This all makes me wonder if, within my lifetime a rafter might come through here and be lucky to even see snow on the mountains in July.

Lowell Glacier in the Yukon, Canada

Back in camp, nothing to do but wait for dinner and hang out. It’s not a bad life being an adventure traveler.

Lowell Glacier in the Yukon, Canada

After three days out here, it was probably polite of us to dip below the skivvy line for some proper de-stinkification therapy. So we slunk off to our personal tent front pond instead of the lake with all the bobbing water chilling iceberg chunks; the only problem with our much warmer water is that the mud oozing between the toes has a distinct fecal kind of feel. Through our team effort, we were soon squeaky clean, feeling like a million tiny sparkly iceberg bits shining in the sun.

Sunset on Lowell Lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

Tonight’s entertainment was brought to us by Mother Nature, who was parading a cavalcade of ice driven by the wind right past us. In the background stood Mount Kennedy, holding vigil over the sky to ensure that everything that could look perfect did so. From the calving glacier and rolling icebergs rumbles, thunder, and heavy claps sounding like gunshots travel over the lake to complement the lapping waves at the shore. The whole time, the glistening water surface forces us to squint to find details in the blinding evening sun. As our sun slides westward, its changing intensity illuminates the bergs in shifting colors that move from opaque blues to greens while the thicker slabs look like city blocks of snowpack where no light passes through. Like clouds in the sky the various forms the ice takes shift from appearing like a Christmas tree to an anvil or the Loch Ness Monster. Then we spot two dolphins leaping out of the water, a swimming bear holding on to a ball, and even a body lying down; alas, it was all ice.

Caroline Wise knitting a pair of socks for John Wise at Lowell Lake in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

I’m guessing it’s getting late, though it’s hard to tell as the sun simply slides lower across the horizon. On my right, Caroline is knitting my next pair of socks. She has a needle in her mouth, her face is golden and a little bit burned. Her nimble fingers knit and purl, and occasionally, she smiles as she listens in with half an ear on the ribald conversation of some of the guys who have had a few drinks and are hanging out by the fire.

While it was downright hot earlier the chill of the evening combined with the wind coming off the glacier and lake in front of it has us bundling up in some warm clothes. The first yawn of the night just escaped Caroline as she announced it was time to find the motivation to go move her own water. Minutes later, we are asleep.

Alsek – Day 2

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

On the banks of the Dezadeash River in Yukon, Canada at sunrise

Caroline first wakes me due to a call of nature, quickly followed by someone walking near our tent as if they were looking for the unit (toilet) as well. Maybe an hour later, Frank is earning his nickname by calling out over camp, “FIRST LIGHT!” meaning the sun has struck a nearby peak. Time to put the mobile hotel room away. I’m still in the tent when Caroline brings me my first cup of coffee and reports that Thirsty is in the kitchen making blueberry pancakes and bacon. The sleeping bags and pads are quickly put back into dry bags and are being shoved out of the tent so we can start taking them down.

Caroline Wise on the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

It’s a bit cold out here this morning, enough so that we can see each other’s breath. Before long, we are back on the water, and the sky is clearing.

The confluence of the Kaskawulsh and the Dezadeash rivers is right in front of us in Yukon, Canada

Up ahead is the confluence of the Kaskawulsh and Dezadeash rivers, where their combined flows become the Alsek. At the center of the horizon at the water level is a tan patch of ground that we are aiming to stop at for a short break. I should point out that the water level is a lot higher than when Caroline and I came down this river five years ago, not that this matters for what happens next. We should always be paying attention when on remote adventures and when on high water, which means that currents are moving faster, we have to be incredibly alert. Apparently, I could have been more attuned to the situation because as we approached the landing and I prepared to step off the raft with the tie-up rope, the current rotated us about a quarter of an inch or just enough that instead of landing on solid ground I slipped down the submerged cut-bank and I found myself sinking quickly into 34-degree water. Looking for a hand to help me get out of the ice bath I was undertaking, I was able to grab hold of the raft before the water level reached my bottom, and with the help of others, I was quickly back in the boat. All I could do was empty my boots, wring out my socks and liners,  and accept the feeling of sheepishness that such a dumb mistake happened.

The beginning of the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada as we leave the Kaskawulsh and Dezadeash rivers behind.

The view may look similar to the previous photo, but we are now officially on the Alsek River, which is truly big today. Along the way, we found some shallow water, so shallow that we scraped the bottom, and our raft pivoted around the spot that was caught. One always hopes that the raft will simply let go and resume traveling, as getting out of the raft in the water is never desirable. It remained cold out on this braided river right up to the point we landed for lunch.

Our lunch stop off the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

With our stop came a bit more sun which helped to warm the breeze. We were here about an hour and a half before taking off again down the river. While here, in addition to lunch, we explored the area; some went for a short hike, and others took a nap. Lunch was sandwiches of turkey or roast beef, chips, cookies, and orange slices.

Cliff side detail next to the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

This may not be a great scenic view for anyone other than geologists, but it is one of the many less-than-photogenic details we find ourselves staring at while going down the river. The earth here is far more active than in the cities we live in, which is easily witnessed by the many rock slides, fading and surging glaciers, changing river beds, and this torn-apart cliffside. There’s a story in those layers of rock that tells of the materials that were laid down and what kind of events were going on over the course of their development, but that will remain a secret today as that geologist who could decipher this was not on the river with us on this day nor with me as I write this.

Looking south on the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

On the left of this image is the cliffside I posted above; as you can see, as a part of the larger view, it can be a spectacular part of the landscape. From here, we’ll find a shore that looks conducive to collecting wood for tonight’s fire. Once we have enough, we wrap up three bundles and mount them on the rafts as a kind of river hood ornament and hope they don’t fall off. Sure, they are tied down, but they bounce a lot, and I often find myself wondering just when one will fall into the river. The clouds remain all around us with scattered blue patches, but where the sun burns through, it goes far to warm the day and make us cozy as we meander downstream.

Turbulence in the Alsek River in Yukon, Alaska

The boatmen remain vigilant, looking for the right channel to take us downriver. With enough flow, the current does much of the work and makes the rowing easier. This can be foiled by a strong headwind. If you’ve been on a couple of river trips, you’ve heard the stories of rafters needing hours to make progress when rowing into fierce headwinds just to make a mile before giving up and getting off the river. I’m hesitant to mention my sciatica because acknowledging it may only make it worse. I can’t blame it on the dip into the river earlier in the day because I was feeling it flare up a couple of days before, but now it’s starting to make itself known. There’s a level of discomfort in standing and walking; nothing to do out here but grin and bear it.

Meandering through the landscape in Yukon, Canada on the Alsek River

I’ve looked over at Caroline a hundred times today and caught a smile from her an equal number of times. Her smile inspires me to send her one in return. There must be something about a woman in green rubber that is especially appealing to me. The silty water glistens behind her, and the wind whips her hair about her face; she looks especially cute at these moments. She helps row with one of the small paddles and occasionally appears to get lost, staring deep into the water. I can’t help but appreciate how Caroline helps shoulder my load, making every effort to make my trip all the better; such is life with the occasional bad back. Time for me to help paddle into the wind.

Steve Alt aka Sarge on the Alsek in Yukon, Canada

This is Steve Alt, a.k.a. Sarge. He’s the reason this particular group of travelers has made this journey. About a year before, he contacted a bunch of people and asked if we’d like to join him in celebration of his 70th birthday out on the Alsek. Caroline and I met Sarge the day before we put in on the Colorado River back in 2010 he was the first person from that trip we met. He introduced himself and said we looked like people who were about to raft the mighty Colorado through the Grand Canyon; he was right about that. Sarge gets his nickname from the time served in Vietnam as a Marine. We also rafted the Yampa River in Utah with him. Sarge has a river buddy in Frank, a.k.a. First Light. These two seem inseparable when it comes to rivers, and it probably also has something to do with both having been Marines. We were nervous Sarge might not make this trip as he was having some serious knee issues earlier in the year, but here he is, big grin and all.

The Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

When you are out here traveling only a little faster than the current, this all speeds by too fast. While Caroline and I will take some years off from looking at these images, when we do return to them on some random occasion, they will be welcome reminders of an adventure we took. Although we find ourselves in the pictures, we are incredulous that we have been so lucky to have done something so extraordinary. These notes I take on the river add to the narrative’s details that photos alone cannot capture: how incredible our lives are that we can leave ourselves these breadcrumbs to spark our memories of the amazing moments we’ve been able to share.

Nearly submerged trees along the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

This is the south end of a beach that is fully submerged and where we would be parked for the night. The last time Caroline and I were here, Bruce, who was on that trip too, had to fix a leaky raft at this very spot. Having already stayed at this location on that previous trip, it is perfectly okay with us that we find a new campsite, and so we paddle on; plus, who wants to sleep in the water?

A cut-bank on the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

A great example of a cut bank and likely very similar to what was hidden by the water yesterday when I stepped out of the boat and couldn’t find the ground.

Our campsite at Lat: 60.471250 Lon: -137.814066 off the Alsek in Yukon, Canada

Tonight’s campsite is at latitude: 60.471250 and longitude: -137.814066 – thanks, Jill, for those exact location details. With the elevation at 1758 feet above sea level, we are 138 feet lower than we were the night before; by the end of the trip, we’ll be a mere 16 feet above sea level. The raft configuration you see in this photo is the “just emptied the rafts, and the boatmen are taking a pow-wow” kind of thing. This happens almost every night and is often accompanied by libations in honor of the river. The rest of us are off setting up our tent, taking a bath in ice water, reading, or having a drink ourselves.

Pauly Borichevsky on the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

Shadows drift across the mountain peaks, moving almost as slowly as the landscape changes. The sun glistens in a blinding glare on the fast-flowing river that is nearly silent save for the wind-driven ripples creating small waves that make gentle crashing sounds. It’s summer, and it feels like it with wildflowers in abundance, along with the flies, mosquitos, and the ants that call this camp their permanent home. Occasionally, someone walks by the bright, sparkling water, and only their silhouette can be seen. Everything is wrapped in beauty here during the golden hour.

We rehash our lives, explain who we are, and try to find some common ground. We start with our careers, move to sports or television, and turn to our kids or grandchildren. We seem to have a poverty of language to discuss where we are and describe what we are witnessing. Maybe it’s that the experience is too far beyond what is in our normal reality and that the ability to codify these infinite moments cannot be expected of people who live such diametrically different lives than the one being lived on a river. Ailments and politics are the next subjects of the conversation du jour; in this environment, they are as banal as the previous subjects.

Camping on the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

What about exploring the quiet? Or exploring our sense of what nature means to us and this relationship with the spectacular feeling like a symbiosis that demands we return again and again? Or is the gravity of our time here too heavy to look within because, in comparison, we are too insignificant?

Frank Kozyn and Steve Alt washing dishes on the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

Dinner came and went, but before everyone could drift off to sleep, the dishes must be done. Before leaving our home states and countries, Frank and Sarge had made it clear that they would be doing the dishes and that there would be no arguing that point. So here they are doing just that, like they did the night before, and will do so for the next ten days. With that out of the way, it was time to sit around the fire once more.

Night time on the Alsek in July in the Yukon, Canada

Today was timeless. The world as we know it happened, and up until a few minutes ago things were occurring because they were supposed to as ordained by nature. Now it’s getting late; I only know that because someone felt compelled to share what time it was, although some of us came out here not wanting to know such details. The sun is just below the horizon; this could be interpreted as a sunset. Some people have started heading off to sleep. Caroline is chatting with Keith while knitting my next pair of socks. Willie, Frank, and Sarge are also chatting, but Frank departs the group, and the other two will follow shortly. Stephen is packing up his luxury chair; more about that later. Echo and Bruce head to their tent, and Pauly is nowhere to be found. I hate to admit it, but I’m tired too. Time to give in to time.

Alsek – Day 1

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Mountain Travel Sobek vehicles delivering a bunch of adventurers to the put in of the Alsek River in Yukon, Canada

Before getting to this curve in the road, the lot of us who were embarking on this 12-day journey down the Alsek River woke early this morning and were ready to go by 8:00 a.m. Electronic gear such as Fitbits, phones, and computers was left behind and would rejoin us once we landed in Juneau, Alaska in nearly two weeks. While we leave civilization behind, we are effectively dragging elements of luxury down the river with us: shelter, fire, food, great companionship, and toilets. We will also be treated to some of the best water, most beautiful scenery, and adventure found on a grand scale. Before we could get to all of that, though, we had to move through two border stations for the American and Canadian governments and then a lunch stop at the Kluane National Park and Preserve Visitor Center in Haines Junction, Yukon, Canada. Off the road, a few miles from the visitors center, we drive as far as our large van can travel due to the depth of Bear Creek (seen above) and then have to transfer to our high-profile all-terrain vehicle that’s able to pass through and start ferrying our gear to Serpentine Creek where the rafts have been being set up for the past couple of hours.

The Alsek Valley Trail in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

We have two options: wait with the van for the return of the SUV or start walking. We chose walking. The Alsek Valley Trail will take us to Serpentine Creek, but it’s an 8km trek or about 5 miles. We couldn’t have asked for better weather on our put-in day; it’s so warm it could almost be called hot out here. While Caroline and I had nice weather in the Alaskan interior, the same couldn’t be said for the days preceding our departure out this side of the country. So, with the need to break out the sunblock and slather it on now done, we get our hiking boots on and start walking.

Caroline Wise and John Wise posing for a selfie in front the Kluane National Park sign in Yukon, Canada

It was a wise choice deciding to walk because there was no way we would have convinced the group to stop at this Kluane National Park sign so we could indulge ourselves with a selfie. You might notice this ragged blue shirt I’m wearing. This shirt was worn down the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon, on the Yampa from Colorado to Utah, and on a previous trip down the Alsek five years ago. On our way down the trail, we are aware that we are walking through land that bears call home, so we stay alert and try to make enough noise to frighten bears into going the opposite direction.

Alsek River Valley in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

By this time, we’d probably been walking about an hour to ninety minutes or about three miles. Initially, when we left the van, there was a slight unease that we wouldn’t be at the put-in shortly and that, somehow, our journey was supposed to start where our rafts were. After spending this part of the day walking through the Alsek Valley it became apparent that our journey got underway at Bear Creek. From this vantage point, I was thrilled that we were able to soak in the environment and let it sear itself into our memories.

Don and Caroline walking ahead of me on the Alsek Valley Trail in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

Caroline and I didn’t walk this trail alone; we had Don from the Midwest with us; he’s a retired railroad man. Behind us but out of our view or hearing range were Sarge, First Light Frank, and Willie. Beyond them, we weren’t sure if anyone else had chosen to walk. At some point, the SUV passed by us on the way to pick up more of our gear and some of our passengers; it was just hot enough that it started to sound appealing to get out of the incessant sun. We walked on.

The put-in at Serpentine Creek in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

Just before reaching the end of Serpentine Creek and arriving at the rafts parked on the banks of the Dezadeash, the SUV passes us with hoots and hollers from those who opted to stay at the van for a ride out. Upon our arrival, we are told to jump into our river boots, grab a paddle, and get on board.

Rowing down the Dezadeash River in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

Not 10 minutes after getting to the put-in, we were on the water and rowing into the wind. Caroline joined Sarge and First Light on a raft with Pauly at the oars. I jump on Bruce’s raft along with Don, Willie, and Keith. The third raft is piloted by Thirsty, and his passengers are Echo, Jill, Stephen, and Doug.

There will be no rapids on this leg of the trip, just a nice calm float away from the put-in, offering us a sense of moving deeper into the wilderness.

Our time out here is brief, a mere hour or so to travel the 4 miles to where we’d pull ashore to make camp. Everyone on this trip knows the routine, as no one among us is having their first wilderness rafting experience. Once the rafts are tied up, the fire line is formed, and bags, gear, kitchen, toilet, chairs, and everything else we’ll need for the night are moved into camp. While it may not look like it’s getting late, we are getting close to dinner time; you’ve got to remember that we’ll not have a true nighttime this far north in July.

Caroline Wise and John Wise's tent at our first night camp in Kluane National Park on the Dezadeash River in Yukon, Canada

The setup of camp goes fast with the collective experience on hand. Echo gets busy prepping appetizers while Bruce goes shopping for dinner. For those who’d like to know, it is the job of the boatmen to prepare all of our meals. Meanwhile, those who will be indulging in a drink open a bottle of gin, and the bar is officially open for business. Interestingly, these cold-weather trips tend to lean towards hard alcohol, whereas hot desert trips seem to favor beer – and lots of it. Beef stroganoff, green bean almondine, and a fresh salad are on the night’s menu, served with a healthy portion of wind.

Typical of the first night out, the conversation is light, and sleep comes early; this trip starts with the same routine.

On our rocky patch of earth, our sleeping pads offer enough of a soft layer to make things comfy. The flapping tent in the strong wind suggests it might be tough to fall asleep out here with all the noise, but in minutes, we were out.

Rafting The Alsek – Canada To Alaska Day 14

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Caroline and John Wise at the end of rafting the Alsek River running from the Yukon Territory, British Columbia, and Alaska to the Pacific Ocean

If you would like to read this story sequentially, starting with Day 1 – Click Here!

Chapped, worn, dirty, bitten, and on more than one occasion wet, cold, nervous, excited, and astonished. This is it, the last day on the Alsek River, a bittersweet moment. There’s an awkwardness to finding the vibe on a river trip, as there are new routines, new people, and an environment that stands large and new right before all of your senses. By the time this last day comes along, we have found our stride and are certainly not ready to leave. But we are near the end of the river, to go further would mean venturing into the Pacific Ocean, next stop, Russia, maybe China!

The forest carpet hangs dangling over the edge where the river has washed away the supporting soil below it. On the Alsek River in Alaska

Before we leave the river, we have one more set of rapids and a few miles to run; we savor every moment. Shortly before reaching our takeout, we pass these cut banks where the river, over time has encroached on the forest and has removed the supporting soil. Interestingly, though, we have an incredible opportunity to see just how plants are able to weave together the soil to create the glue that binds the forest floor into a cohesive unit. This is why there is so much risk of flooding and mudslides following a severe fire, especially on mountainsides. In some areas on the cut bank, trees continue to grow at odd angles, appearing as though they could fall into the river at any time, and yet the carpet of plants holds firm, and the trees live on.

Our pilot has arrived and is ready to whisk us to the town of Yakutat, Alaska

The flat gravel bank looms large as it becomes apparent that it would be where we are going to make our exit. The emotions of the moment rage but have to be contained as we have lots to do. We immediately start emptying the rafts of everything before we open the valves and start to deflate them. A local family arrives with trailers being pulled behind their all-terrain vehicles – known as quads. They help us load up our personal gear, and within an hour of landing, we are following a primitive trail through the woods to a landing strip. We don’t have to wait long before our bush pilot arrives in his small plane. Joining us on our flight out of Dry Bay, Alaska, today are a couple of guys whose original plans had been to backpack the Alsek but were foiled by the immensity of the Tweedsmuir glacier. Lucky for them, a passing helicopter took pity on their portage attempt and hauled them out. Security out here doesn’t seem to be much of an issue; there were no full-body scanners or even X-rays. In quick time, we were rumbling down the gravel runway and peeling away from the trees.

The Brabazon mountain range in the distance as we fly out of Dry Bay, Alaska on our way up the coast to Yakutat

We are flying parallel to the coast, heading north to Yakutat. In the distance, we can just make out the Brabazon Range. It is a solemn moment up here in the sky, watching the world we have known for the previous two weeks disappear. Lucky Shaun, though, has stayed back at Dry Bay; he will accompany the rafts on a different flight back to Haines Junction, where he will turn around and do this all over again with a different group. I dream of being a boatman in another life.

Like the ground that we will soon land on, reality comes crashing into view that our journey down the Alsek River is over.

In a few minutes, we’ll land in Yakutat. I have no interest in being in “Yak,” but it is where we must land to catch our next flight. We’ll stay overnight, as my original plans had been filled with the excitement that we would have one more day in the wild to allow us to acclimate to reality before reentering the alternative reality called urban life. Getting a hot shower also seemed like a great idea, but the foreignness of others and the weirdness of being in a hotel were all too overwhelming. Tomorrow morning, we will board a flight to Anchorage, where we’ll have the better part of the day exploring before leaving Alaska at midnight. The memories of where we just were are laden with emotion, life once again has taken a turn and connected me in ways to our Earth I never could have imagined prior to embarking on such an amazing journey.

Rafting The Alsek – Canada To Alaska Day 13

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Midnight on Alsek Lake in Alaska

Waiting for the lake tsunami that never comes. It’s five minutes after midnight, and everyone else is asleep while Caroline and I try to cherish each and every second we have left here in Alaska. This will be our last full day on the Alsek. Those clouds on the right are hiding Mount Fairweather, which, according to Wikipedia, stands at 15,325 feet (4,671 meters) and is one of the world’s highest coastal mountains. We’ll not see Mount Fairweather on this trip, as the weather didn’t allow it. Something for us to come back for.

Four o'clock in the morning on Alsek Lake in Alaska

Four o’clock in the morning is the perfect time for a perfect sunrise. Looks like we might be having a sunny day here on the lake.

7:00 a.m. on Alsek Lake in Alaska

By 7:00 a.m., the clouds are moving in; fingers crossed, they will burn off. The funny thing about how the weather goes, it nearly always seems to have been perfect for the situation wherever Caroline and I find ourselves traveling. If it’s raining, well, that rain added something that made the place all the more special. Yesterday, it looked like winter had closed in on us, but still, there was incredible beauty to be found. I wonder how many people go on vacation wishing for great weather and are disappointed when they don’t get it? I, for one, am one of those who wish for it and then am pleasantly surprised by how all weather is great. Suppose it’s better than being in that situation where one will never again experience the weather.

Midday on Alsek Lake in Alaska

Midday and overcast. But it still looks great to me!

Here comes the sun and the wildflowers. On Alsek Lake in Alaska

Wandering around checking out the wildflowers when, guess who decides to show up. The sun, that’s who.

Soft velvety flower next to Alsek Lake in Alaska

To those of you who might really be appreciating the details I have been bringing to you here on my blog regarding the Alsek River: I am accepting donations that will allow me to spend a few months and half a dozen back-to-back trips down the river, so I can share even more with you. I should be able to pull this off with about $25,000. Got an extra grand you can spare?

Out on Alsek Lake in Alaska looking at the reflections on the beautifully rippling water

We have left camp to row out onto the lake. The weather is beautiful, and there are icebergs to inspect. In case this photo is too abstract, it is the lake’s surface with the mountains in the distance reflected in the water.

Icebergs floating in Alsek Lake, Alaska

The majority of our group has opted to explore the mosquito-infested island in the lake; this is perfect because we can now explore the lake in near-absolute silence.

A rock and dirt covered iceberg is the black sheep of icebergs on Alsek Lake in Alaska

Just as it fell from the glacier, this iceberg still carries with it the rocks and dirt it had accumulated over the decades as it slid closer to the water’s edge.

An iceberg from Alsek Lake in Alaska

Something rolled over not too far from us. It was at first a thrilling moment of wow, the low rumble, the craning our necks to find where the berg that just tumbled was, but nothing to be found. And then the tension started. From the wave created by the invisible iceberg rolling over, the ice between us and the rollover started crashing into each other. The sound of multi-ton massive chunks of ice can be more than a little unsettling. I start to wonder if this won’t trigger other bergs to roll, too, and here we are right out in the middle of them all.

The icebergs on Alsek Lake take on strange and sometimes familiar forms.

Strange and almost familiar forms can be seen in the ice; it’s almost like finding animals in the clouds.

A massive iceberg seen in Alsek Lake, Alaska

We try to find a path through the ice to go visit this 8-story tall massive iceberg, but our passage is blocked. Floating on the lake, drifting through icebergs, this is nothing short of spectacular.

A rock clings to the edge of an iceberg as it floats away from the glacier and towards the Pacific Ocean in Alaska

How this rock still clings to the edge of this iceberg appears to defy gravity. I’d like to know how long and from how far this rock has traveled. Soon, it will sink to the bottom of the lake, and we may be the only people on Earth in the entire history of our planet who will have ever seen this particular rock. It now joins the history of observed rocks.

The weather isn't perfect, but it does add dramatic effect here on Alsek Lake in Alaska

The weather isn’t perfect, but it does add a dramatic effect here on Alsek Lake. The other interesting aspect regarding the play of light, everything changes with the intensity of the sun or the shadows cast by the clouds. Look to the left of center the ice is deep blue; five minutes before, it was merely pale blue.

More icebergs in Alsek Lake, Alaska

Just like the rock above, this piece of ice seems to have mere days left before it becomes an independent mini-berg.

Blue iceberg in Alsek Lake, Alaska

Bruce is our guide out here, or should I say, the man letting us drift all over the place? If you’ve been even slightly intrigued by these images, let me suggest that you contact an outfitter and take yourself on a trip down the Alsek or maybe even the Tatshenshini; both rivers bring you to Alsek Lake! It’s cheaper than going to the Antarctic.

Iceberg on Alsek Lake in Alaska

We sat here a while, listening to the drip, drip, drip of the iceberg as the sound echoed out of the enclave. If only I could share the delicate sound with you, it alone would convince you that you, too, need to visit this remote corner of North America.

The sun reflecting off the silty water of Alsek Lake in Alaska

Silty water and sun, everything I need to see art. The qualities of water, of wild water, are something we will see very few times in our lives. Unless we are at the ocean, most water that humanity will encounter has been sequestered – it is, in a sense, dead water. But on free-running rivers, we see the turbulence, convulsion, elasticity, and randomness that change by the instant. There was a time not too long ago when any of us would have been far more familiar with the flow of this life-sustaining liquid.

Deep blue ice from a freshly turned over iceberg on Alsek Lake in Alaska

Stumbled upon this freshly turned-over iceberg. Could this be the piece that created the wave? We can’t know. No matter because at least we get to witness this incredible deep blue undulating and curved ice sculpture that elicits our oohs and aahs.

It's getting late in the day as golden light falls on Alsek Lake looking in the direction of the Pacific Ocean in Alaska

We continued floating and checking out the icebergs until it was time to turn back to shore and get busy with making dinner. Shaun stayed in camp today in order to get some things prepared for our departure from the river tomorrow. Hopefully, he has also started cooking. After the visitors to the island left their mosquito encounter, they paddled out onto the lake and joined us as we enjoyed the discarded ice that Alsek Glacier tossed into the lake.

Evidence of flooding on shore at Alsek Lake in Alaska

On the previous evening, I guessed that the driftwood onshore came from lake tsunamis; tonight, I get proof. While wandering around waiting for dinner, I was about 100 feet from shore when I noticed these exposed roots of plants that appeared to be growing well out of the ground. Then I figured it out: this is where the water drained off the ground and pulled the surrounding sand with it back to the lake, leaving these roots high and dry. Even on this scale, these details are nothing less than fascinating. Of course, this could also simply mean the lake level was higher at some point, but lake tsunami sounds way more dynamic – thrilling even!

Sitting around the campfire on our last night on the Alsek in Alaska

Spending our last “night” around the campfire. Tomorrow will be difficult, but tonight, we warm ourselves next to the flames and admire the surroundings. What an incredible day and an incredible journey down one of the few remaining wild rivers left on Earth.