Alsek – Day 6

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Twisting layers of sedimentary rock on the shore of the Alsek river in Canada

We slept in today. Not even sure how long, as Caroline and I are not traveling with anything that keeps time. This allows us to get on nature’s schedule of awake, tired, sleeping, and waking instead of being beholden to the mechanical gatekeeper gods of the calendar. Others were by now moving about, too, with the telltale sounds of a boatman in the kitchen working on bringing breakfast into reality. Before we emerge, we attempt our ablutions within the coziness of the tent. After a hot day, it’s easy to convince oneself to test the cold waters, but after a toasty night buried deep in a sleeping bag, there’s no way to consider going and placing any part of the body into near-freezing water. Even with an itchy scalp producing a snowstorm of flaking activity on its way to building dead skin glaciers, there’s a limit to the discomfort that won’t be tested this morning. While the head will continue to suffer, the stinky parts are treated to vigorous scrubbing with trusty camp wipes.

The Alsek River in Canada

Somewhere between this attempt at personal hygiene and breakfast, the tent is broken down, stowed, and blam; I need to visit the unit – must have been the coffee. My trek over to the unit proved less than fruitful, for while the body was willing and able, poop mountain was too close to eclipsing the event horizon with my knuckles recoiling in horror. Fortunately, my bowel obliged and constricted the imminent movement that felt so urgent seconds before. Resigned to wait, I leave slightly disappointed but simultaneously happy that I “can” wait!

Boating on the Alsek river in Canada

Rafts packed up, we are once again moving downriver in the hunt for another campsite.

The Alsek River in Canada

We’ll hit quite a few small rapids on this short stretch, with a couple large enough to have a cold water splash in our faces.

The Alsek River in Canada

We ran downstream for about an hour before pulling over to explore a place.

Moss next to the Alsek River in Canada

While the others ventured off for a short hike up a knob, I stayed back near the river to check out the small stuff.

Wild flowers along the Alsek river in Canada

Such as flowers.

The Alsek River in Canada

Found some bear tracks that were quite faded and filmed the nearby small rapids. In these quiet moments alone, I go looking for small details, not just in my surroundings but also within. Contemplating the solitude of the bear moving through a landscape that is its own or the accumulating gravel across the river on a cascade of ice that, in all likelihood, is there all year round, I try to better understand this place that I’m only momentarily allowed to visit. I wonder how, over time, this small corner of Earth appears alive as the river runs through its veins and the mountains shed rocks and boulders as they grow up or fade away. These fleeting thoughts produce few answers and leave me wanting to know more as I try to dig deeper into my mind to discover the questions that will help produce insights that prove so elusive.

Squirrel next to the Alsek river in Canada

Sitting down on a rock, ready to take some notes about the day so far, a couple of squirrels come in for a visit. They were not looking for food; I guess that I’m the first person they may have ever seen. My imagination suggests that they are intrigued to see these two-legged animals with weird, colorful skin that offers zero camouflage ability. After not much more than a few seconds taking in the situation, they go about their foraging as they brush aside sand and dig just below the surface. All the while, as one of them works, the other remains vigilant in observing the surroundings to ensure their safety. These plump guys probably make for good eating if you are a bird of prey. And then they scurried off, as it was likely they heard my travel companions returning before I did. Writing will have to wait for another stop.

On the Alsek river in Canada

Heading to another adventure on the Alsek River in the middle of Nowhere, Canada. See the raft on the river for scale.

Mt. Blackadar along the Alsek river in British Columbia, Canada

A perfect example of a hanging glacier can be seen from the river as we start our approach to Mount Blackadar. As Caroline and I know part of this routine, we already know that we’ll be camping on the other side of this mountain in front of a giant and somewhat dangerous glacier.

A random glacier emerging next to the Alsek River in British Columbia, Canada

Some of these photos might seem a little blurry; well, I’m shooting from the river with less than optimal lighting conditions where the brightness of the snow and sky wreak havoc on getting a decent exposure on dark rocks and deep green forest in the foreground. While I’m not trying to win awards with these photos, I do want them to bring us back to this extraordinary day when we traveled a corridor that very few humans have ever seen with their own eyes.

Tiny mushroom at the Serengeti on the Alsek river in Canada

Somehow, all of a sudden, it’s mid-day and time for lunch. We are at the Serengeti, as it is known, due to the abundance of wildlife that can be spotted here. While Mexican-inspired wraps are being prepared, I’m investigating what might be out here besides the obvious giant mountains, glaciers, river, and trees.

Grizzly bear paw print in the sand along the Alsek river in British Columbia, Canada

This grizzly bear paw print was headed northeast, hopefully on the way back to the Yukon. Getting down and smelling the bear print, I could tell that this female passed through here three days ago, so I need not worry that she was still in the area. Okay, that was royal bologna, as I just made that up, but it made you think a moment, didn’t it? Near to the paw print was a single cub’s print, traveling with mom’s.  I believe it was at some time on this day we passed from the Yukon into British Columbia; maybe it was yesterday, not that this detail has any bearing on things.

Wolf print next to the Alsek river in British Columbia, Canada

No sight nor sound of wolves anywhere during this trip, just this paw print to let us know they are present.  Time for lunch.

Dryas octopetala found near the Alsek river in British Columbia, Canada

We are off for a hike over hill and dale, looking for the perfect spot to catch a glimpse of whatever wildlife might be present or even these lovely dryas. This robust and nearly ubiquitous plant has followed us from the first day of our trip, and still, I do not tire of admiring it.

Heart shaped orange and grey rock found river side on the Alsek in British Columbia, Canada

It’s not every day that walking along you look down and see a heart-shaped orange and grey rock, but here in British Columbia it just may be more common than one might imagine.

Soapberry along the Alsek river in British Columbia, Canada

While they may look yummy or poisonous, depending on your perspective, these are, in fact, soapberries. This particular version, I believe, is the shepherdia Canadensis, commonly called Canada buffaloberry. If I’m correct about the species, then this fruit is edible, though it is bitter and, in larger amounts, can cause bowel irritation due to the saponin, which is the chemical that also gives this berry its name related to soap.

Looking back towards the Alsek river from the Serengeti in British Columbia, Canada

From the top of the hill, we can look back towards the Alsek from the informally named Serengeti. Somewhere down there are our rafts, and I have to admit that every time we leave them (well tied up for sure), I’m a bit nervous that one will break free and make a solo voyage down the river without us. Fortunately, this has never happened, well, except that time in the Grand Canyon on the Colorado at Black Tail Canyon, where fortunately, an eddy caught it, keeping it a prisoner and safe for our return in its swirling waters.

Dryas octopetala found near the Alsek river in British Columbia, Canada

Yeah…..I really do have a thing for this stuff. Its formal name is Dryas octopetala (I hope), and is related to the rose. The genus is named after the dryads, the tree nymphs of ancient Greek mythology (thanks, Wikipedia).

Bruce Keller and Echo Miller looking out towards Mount Blackadar along the Alsek in British Columbia, Canada

Our trip leader, Bruce Keller, with his partner Echo Miller, took a moment to relax and gaze upon Mount Blackadar.

Frank "First Light" Kozyn in front of Mt. Blackadar on the Alsek River in Canada

This was probably my favorite photo of Frank “First Light” Kozyn I shot. Here he is in front of Mount Blackadar. This mountain must have some important history, as I keep pointing it out; read on.

Caroline Wise and John Wise in the Serengeti next to the Alsek river in British Columbia, Canada

Caroline and I, with our fat heads, blocked the view of Mount Blackadar behind us. Mount Blackadar was named after Dr. Walt Blackadar, who first kayaked Turn Back Canyon on the other side of this mountain back in 1971 at the age of 49. That solo journey, which has been compared in significance to the first ascent of Mt. Everest, earned him the respect to have the mountain standing sentinel to Turn Back Canyon named after him. Like so many other river adventurers who risked their lives to see and experience a thing, he became a vocal proponent for the protection of our riverways.

Pauly Borichevsky chilling in front of Mt. Blackadar along the Alsek river in British Columbia, Canada

This is our boatman Pauly Borichevsky chilling in front of you-know-which mountain.

Back on the Alsek river in British Columbia, Canada

You know that mountain that looked so close? You know, Mount Blackadar. Well, it was nearly two hours away, sure it looked like it might be 15 minutes away, but that is a trick due to the scale and magnitude of this landscape. On this leg of the river, we encounter an incredible number of “S” turns that have us constantly on the move staying away from where the water piles up against walls.

Stopping next to the Alsek River to collect drift wood for our fire in British Columbia, Canada

Collecting driftwood for our campfire later today. Firewood is essential for us as we use it to boil river water for washing dishes; it also makes for a toasty place to warm our cold feet. This collection is a bit different than other days as we need two days’ worth due to us staying on a layover in front of Tweedsmuir Glacier before our helicopter portage over Turn Back Canyon. While Dr. Blackadar survived a kayak run of this treacherous canyon, we would surely die if we attempted to run it in rafts.

The geology along the Alsek river never fails to inspire here in British Columbia, Canada

By now you may start wondering just how long can this blog entry be. Well, it’s only about 1,400 words so far, but I can’t help but share better photos I shot on this day. Out of 207 photos only 23 are being posted and how can I not when images like this are exemplary of the spectacular geology on display?

Along the Alsek river in British Columbia, Canada

This could be one of the sides of Mount Blackadar, but my memory isn’t so good that I could be certain of this. Whatever it is, I found the patchwork of rock and green spots compelling enough that it had to join the batch of images being shared. It was also our last quick stop before making camp. This one was to collect fresh drinking water.

Wildflowers along the Alsek river in British Columbia, Canada

After we landed the rafts, I mean inflatable cruise ships, at our final stop of the day, we dragged them ashore and deflated them after removing everything else we were traveling with. One thing we couldn’t unload or deflate was the ever-present mosquitos. With no wind in sight, they hang out like grotty teenagers intent on bugging the shit out of you. Thirsty assures us that this is nothing compared to what’s up in the Arctic, somehow I’m not feeling so much better. A late chat into near darkness with Pauly, Thirsty, Keith, Caroline, and I was a great elixir that delivered us to sleep that night.

Alsek – Day 3

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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 1

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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.

Alaska – Day 1

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Roads and rivers we've traveled in Alaska

Anchorage leaves a lot to be desired, and so does Fairbanks, but there’s big nature between the two, so those less-than-ideal realities will have to be endured. To be fair, their lackluster impression probably has more to do with our budget than with a totality of blanket statements that cast aspersions upon the aesthetics and services either of these cities have on offer. We did, after all, have an amazing dinner riverside in Fairbanks that will stand out as an enduring memory, but the lodgings offered for under $200 a night are deplorable. So, let’s move past these temporary stopovers and get on with why we are here.

We came up this far north for several reasons: one was because of Alaska, two, Denali, and three, to add to our map of America, more specifically, the map where we track which roads we’ve traveled throughout the United States. While we’d had a brief stay in Anchorage on our previous trip to Alaska, all we did was grab a rental car for a few hours to head in the general direction of Seward; we didn’t have time to see anything else. That trip was at the tail end of a rafting adventure that saw us rafting the Alsek River between Haines Junction and Yakutat, Alaska. This time, we are once again here to raft the Alsek, but we left Phoenix early to get a couple of days in some unexplored territory before we hit the river.

Caroline and John Wise at Denali National Park in Alaska

Because Anchorage is right on the coast, it turns out they get their fair share of cloud coverage. As we came in under clouds, so shall we go. Our drive out of town led us north on Highway 1 towards Denali National Park and Preserve, and with gray skies, there wasn’t much on the horizon for the first few hours of the drive.

Sometimes, the legends and myths surrounding a thing can make that thing much larger than it truly is, and with that magic of the unknown, dreams cascade in ways that no reality will ever compare to. Then again, reality sets into motion an entirely new sense of knowledge that replaces the fantasy with the experience that often has the effect of drawing us back in for return visits and creating the fertile ground for new dreams.

Denali National Park is one of those places whose scale and reputation come with some big expectations. First of all, it’s not as remote as our imaginations have already plotted on the map. From Anchorage, where we landed the day before, it’s a mere 237 miles to the park. Next, based on anecdotal stories, we approached this place with the idea that the crowds would be on par with Disneyland on Thanksgiving; fortunately for us, that was hardly the situation.

On the Roadside Trail in Danali National Park

Our first stop had to be at the visitor center, as a trip to a National Park wouldn’t be complete without Caroline working to get her Junior Ranger badge. While kids can get by doing an activity or two from the workbook, Caroline tries to answer every question and complete as many tasks as possible to at least show some serious effort. Seeing we didn’t have all day to spend in the park, she’d have to limit herself and chose the Sled Dog Demo. I didn’t come to Alaska to spend even one minute on a bus that could take us there, so we got on the Roadside Trail for the nearly two-mile hike to the kennels.

The forested trail is a nice introduction to the flora of the area, though the fauna was either in hiding or had already suffered the sixth great extinction. We made it to the kennel minutes before the demo with enough time to get a quick pull of water from the hose nearest to the dogs. As I was drinking from it I was wondering, did any of the dogs lift a leg on this thing?

Alaskan Huskies in Danali National Park during a demonstration of sledding, summer style.

These Alaskan Huskies are a beautiful, spirited breed of dogs with the pack instinct fully intact. They appear to love moving as a unit and dragging the wheeled training cart around the track that has been set up just for this purpose. The skilled handlers take pride in showing us visitors the working life of these dogs that we learn are most comfortable when chilling on a ten-degree-below-zero winter day.

Caroline snuggling up with one of the huskies in Danali National Park

With a ranger autograph in hand that proves Caroline attended a ranger-led program, we take the Rock Creek trail back to the visitor center, and at 2.9 miles long, we relish the idea of our creekside return. Turns out that the Rock Creek trail is not aptly named as there is no sight of the creek, though we do hear it twice on our hike back to the visitors center. Regarding that aforementioned extinction, we do learn it’s not complete yet as we pass a couple of squirrels and the shiny berry-infused scat of a bear.

Squirrel in the wilds of Alaska

Back at the Visitor Center, Caroline is ready for swearing-in, though we are reminded that it is a pledge to maintain a code of behavior and provide a good example of being a steward while visiting our public lands. Win of wins for being here today as Caroline is leaving with a commemorative centennial wood badge that sadly would be lost by the time we got back to Arizona.

Caroline Wise earning her Junior Ranger badge at Danali National Park in Alaska

One more thing to do before leaving is head up the road to Savage River, which, for this trip to Denali, will be the end of the road for us. Going beyond this point requires the visitor to sign up for a bus trip to one of several points along the 83-mile-long gravel road. The longest journey into the park takes 13 hours or about 12 hours we don’t have right now. Reaching the bridge over the not-so-Savage River, we have not yet gleaned a view of the mountain formerly known as Mt. McKinley, now known by its native name, Denali, and have every reason to come back at a future date to see more of this enormous park and preserve.

Savage River at Danali National Park in Alaska

Somewhere out there in the distance beyond the Savage River is the namesake of this park that we’ll hope to catch a glimpse of on a subsequent trip.

On the way to Fairbanks, Alaska

By the time we reach Fairbanks, we are hungry and head directly to the Pump House, which seems to be the most popular place in the area. Rightfully so, as it’s in a national historically registered building right on the Chena River, and the food is perfect, from the fresh seafood appetizer to the rhubarb cobbler. It is so perfect we will talk of the meal from the Pump House months from our fantastic meal.

Seafood tower at the Pump House in Fairbanks, Alaska

At 10:30 p.m., the sun is shining bright as though it were maybe 5:00 p.m. back home in Arizona; this is unsettling. It’s not even sunset, and everything is closed. Some people say it is the endless night of January that is disturbing, but for me here right now this, seemingly still early, part of the day demands that people should still be active doing normal daytime stuff. I think I might have the opposite issue with this long day if I were living here, as the long night would be perfect for long runs at making music, crafting, reading, and doing all the other stuff that requires hours of mindful focus for extended periods.

Sadly, our hotel is an abomination and lends a pallor to the entire idea of what Fairbanks is. The state of Alaska would be well served to create a board of standards of how quality and service are managed when a typical visitor, spending a couple of hundred dollars for a room, probably has an expectation that exceeds the type of room on offer that would cost $10 a night at a flophouse on Skid Row or anywhere else. I have to remind myself that we are not in Alaska for the accommodations but for the expansive nature and beauty that surrounds us outside of the city limits.

Stay In The Confusion – A Journey into Nearly Overwhelming Complexity

JWise Moments

MoogFest

I was probably 18 when I bought my first synthesizer, a Moog Rogue, back in 1981. Whatever happened to it escapes me through the fog of extended adolescence, but I do know that life at the time was consuming me on so many other fronts that I found little time to explore the discipline of studying the making of music. What brought me the desire to make electronic noise in the first place was Industrial Music, specifically the work of Throbbing Gristle.

Fast forward thirty-five years, and Caroline and I are on our way to MoogFest 2016 in Durham, North Carolina. We are not planning to buy equipment; we are going to attend a dozen workshops and an equal number of concerts and gigs. That was until we walked into the Moog Pop-Up Factory set up just for the occasion. It is May 19th, 2016. The adventure begins.

Moog was featuring the self-contained Mother 32 semi-modular synthesizer with a discount of $100 running for the duration of the event or until they sold out. My FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) started raging as I was certain that this deal was too good to pass up, and by the time I was done waffling, it would be gone. So I took the plunge and dropped the $499 right then and there to dip my toe once again into making car alarm sounds.

Fresh from the betrayal of my self-imposed discipline to not give into GAS (Gear Acquisition Syndrome), we head to the quirkier side of the shopping area and explore stuff that has little to no meaning to our curious eyes and ears: the real modular stuff. Earlier in the day, the organizers of MoogFest sent out an email with a link to a video from some guys out of Brno, Czech Republic, working under the name Bastl Instruments. The clip featured a beardy guy walking through the woods playing with a “Bit Ranger” and some sticks. The video was kind of corny and a bit gimmicky, but it also left an impression. Nearly right away after walking into this hall, the beardy guy is standing right in front of me; it’s Peter Edwards of Casper Electronics, who had recently joined forces with Bastl.

Sticking with the theme of being “self-contained,” I felt I could justify supporting these starving Czech engineers/artists and buying one of their Bit Rangers. With it, I wouldn’t need any other modules, and they assured me that it would play nicely with my newly acquired Mother 32 by using a simple patch cable to make the connection. I was satisfied I had everything I would need for the coming years to make audio doodles in my spare time.

Patricia aka Max Ravitz

Onto the main reason, we had traveled to North Carolina: music and workshops about the future. The rest of the day passes with me not buying another thing. Friday comes around, and we are busy learning and exploring up until the early evening when we head over to see a demo by Antenes, who is making her own unique form of “Switchboard Synthesizers.” By 8:30 p.m., we are at a packed larger venue to see Grimes performing, but we’ll have to leave early if we are going to make a gig over at the Pinhook. In a small club with a capacity of just 150 people, we watched Afrikan Sciences (Eric Douglas) followed by Patricia (Max Ravitz), both on modular synth rigs. I was hooked. This was the first time in over 20 years someone made sounds that made me want to dance – modular synths in the form of Eurorack were going to be part of my future.

For those who don’t know, Eurorack was first created by Dieter Döpfer as a modular synthesizer system back in 1995. The modules were specified to be 3U in height (5.25 inches or 133.35 mm high), and their width would be measured in Horizontal Pitch (hp – 1hp is equal to 0.2 inches or 5.08 mm). These dimensions were taken from server racks that were standardized by AT&T in 1922. While 5U systems had been in existence since at least the early 1970’s they had been falling out of popularity until Dieter revitalized interest in modular systems and is still leading the way with his Doepfer brand.

Two days after I walked away with Mother 32, I was about to be snared to dive deeper by one of the exhibitors. It was Rick Burnett of Erogenous Tones who was about to play an instrumental role in my fall down the rabbit hole. Knowing I knew nothing about Eurocrack (yes, it is often referred to as that) he goes on to enthusiastically explain how my system would benefit from a second voice. I’d forgotten to tell him of the Bit Ranger as I was still seeing it more as a toy than a serious musical instrument; oh, how wrong I was! As this guy takes me under his wing he is seducing the absolute novice with magical thinking about how the keys to the modular kingdom were to be found by acquiring more gear. Armed with the facts that I simply needed another voice, an effect, a filter, and a mixer, I’d now be seriously ready to tackle the world of using modular synths to build a solid hobby.

Rick sells me his Levit8 mixer, another guy convinces me I need a Colour Palette for filters, and because you can never have enough filters, someone else sells me a WMD Aperture. By the way, this line “You can never have enough…..” is applied to everything Eurorack. Another vendor hooks me up with the Noise Engineering Loquelic Iteritas (my second voice, okay technically my third, but the Bit Ranger is not in Eurorack format). Finally, I picked up the WMD DPLR delay effect – system complete. Until I learn that I’ll also need envelopes, voltage-controlled attenuators (VCA), more effects, modulators, an interface to my computer, a mixing board, better monitors, sequencers, and a multitude of other things that promise to ensure “I’m never able again to maintain cash savings.”

With the festival over and me back in front of a computer in Phoenix, it was obvious that I’d need a case or rack to put my new acquisitions in. Researching modular cases, it was clear that this industry serving those interested in Eurorack was backlogged, and unless I wanted something off the shelf and generic, I’d be waiting a good amount of time and paying for it. My thinking was that I was building a piece of art that I would have to want to play with, fall in love with even, and that if I compromised my aesthetic sensibility, I might quickly get bored of my evolving instrument and want to move on.

The Original Oscelot

It was the handcrafted work of Steffen Ahmad of WeedyWhizz in Germany that captivated my imagination of what a great Eurorack case should look like, and so on May 25, 2016, just six days after my first purchase I put in an order for a 9U/104hp case with TipTop uZeus power. The cost of a handmade red and black 21-inch wide three-row case was $999 with shipping; I was getting deeper and still didn’t know that this was just the proverbial tip of the iceberg.

Better order the patch cables today, too, as maybe the case will arrive sooner than I think. Four days later I see that I’m going to need the ability to connect my modular rig to my PC as I’ve determined that I must get Bitwig (my DAW or Digital Audio Workstation of choice) talking to my new modular system. Welcome to the world of near-instant gratification, mail-order modular components. I’d heard their names while at MoogFest, and now was my moment to establish a connection to the mother ship. First up is AnalogueHaven over in Santa Monica, California. I order the Expert Sleepers ES-3 with confidence and prove one of the first lessons the experienced wigglers try to share with the novice – learn what you have before you go in 100 different directions.

Another clarification is in order: “Wiggler” is a common term given to someone who is turning knobs in an effort to make music. There is an entire forum dedicated to this form of music called “Muffwiggler,” which certainly suggests a different vision of things. The guy who started the forum was inspired by two guitar pedals, the Big Muff Pi and the Wiggler – hence Muff Wiggler. The political correctness of the term is not the subject of this post; it is what it is, and the forum has become so instrumental in helping people from around the world with this complex subject that a world without the Muffwiggler would be a tragedy for thousands.

You can only know so much about a complex electronic instrument by reading about it or watching videos. Ultimately, you must get your hands on it and figure a few things out, such as whether the device is incompatible with your current configuration. While the ES-3 is a remarkable unit for sending control voltage (CV) signals to other modules, it requires an audio interface that can handle DC-coupled signals. DC-coupled means that capacitors that might otherwise filter certain frequencies out are left out of the design, so the full spectrum is allowed to move between devices. Typically, your home stereo doesn’t need to play very low or very high frequencies, so they are filtered out, but in modular setups, those frequencies can be key to moving signals through our system and modulating other sources. My brand new Apollo Twin Duo did not meet those criteria, and at $900, I wasn’t ready to part with it. Seeing I had a lot more to learn before hooking my DAW to my still boxed-up Eurorack components, I figured by the time I learned how this stuff works, someone else would have come up with a solution.

From calling it my Eurorack, rig, modular system, modular synth, synthesizer, gear, and probably a few other things, it is my wife who recommended a name that was going to stick. Over the previous couple of weeks, all I could talk about were my plans for this instrument. Constantly Caroline was hearing about different modules, voltages, patch cables, knobs, jacks, subtractive synthesis, sequencers, and skyrocketing costs. She told me that I should call my synth The Oscelot. She explains by way of, “How do you titillate an ocelot? You oscillate its tit a lot.” Because she foresees me oscillating the knobs a lot, she thinks it fitting for me to name my synth Oscelot – done.

June comes and goes still no word from Weedywhizz and my case. I still don’t understand how to use Mother 32, and the other pieces remain in boxes. July comes around, and I learned that almost all retailers of modular gear here in the States offer 4th of July sales. This also occurs around Black Friday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and, on occasion, Memorial Day. Seeing how I’m going to have all this empty space in my case, I figure this might be as good a time to order as another, as the next sale might not happen until late November. At this time, I didn’t yet know the sales cycle.

July 2nd and 3rd are a flurry of insane indulgence where, after having read countless articles, forum posts, and watching a hundred or more videos, I’m ready to seriously build on being overwhelmed once my case arrives and I can finally turn this equipment on. Mind you, I’m reassuring myself that the reason I don’t know how to use the Mother 32 yet is that I need all this other gear. I’m now certifiably suffering from GAS. On order are the obligatory Mutable Instruments modules that everybody new to Eurorack must have, such as Braids, Clouds, and Warps, along with Make Noise Maths, Wogglebug, LxD, and Pressure Points. Also in the order is my first Disting from Expert Sleepers, a Buff Mult, the Verbos Multi-Envelope, Kermit from The Harvestman, and a Polaris filter from Intellijel.

Visit to AnalogueHaven in Santa Monica, California

It’s Monday, July 4th in America, aka Independence Day. Steffen from Weedywhizz finally sent me my shipping confirmation; it’s my day of celebration on a whole new level now. I’m certain it will be here by Friday; it just has to be. Ten days later and nothing. I need therapy, time to buy more gear. I’m off to Los Angeles to make a pilgrimage to the temple of Eurorack – AnalogueHaven. I called Shawn Cleary a day before to schedule an appointment, and on Saturday, I walked through the door. They have everything and a lot of everything. I have no idea where to start, so Skylar offers to demo anything I have questions about.

By now, I’m wondering if my case has been lost in shipment, and with the AnalogueHaven guys being so helpful, I feel obliged to, at a minimum, buy me a skiff. Make Noise makes a powered little 3U/104hp rack commonly called a “skiff.” During my tour of the synths on display, I started to dig into the functions of the Ultra Random Analog from Steady State Fate, the polyphonic potential in the Flame 4Vox, another couple of Mutable Instruments units called Peaks and Rings, the Xaoc Batumi, which is my first LFO, another Noise Engineering module called Basimilus Iteritas Alter which is a drum unit, the Arturia BeatStep Pro sequencer with CV outs, and finally the MixMode as I won’t be able to listen to a thing tonight if I don’t have a way to mix and output sounds.

Temporarily satisfied that I have a real working modular synth system I head back to Phoenix. On Monday, it is now two weeks later and still so sign of my Oscelot case. I try not to panic. When it’s three weeks later and nothing, is that depression at the door? Then, on the very next day and two months after I placed my order, the case was delivered. It’s beautiful, and I’m entering Nirvana.

Time to gut the skiff, open boxes, and start migrating stuff into the Oscelot. This thing is huge and is certainly larger than anything I’ll ever really need, but that’s okay because I have room to grow. Or so I thought for an hour or two. Twenty-seven modules later and the writing is on the wall; I’m running out of space, but no problem, as I have the skiff to refill.

For the next two months, I tried turning on the Oscelot every day and patching something. I’m not as much interested in the idea of making a song as I am in exploring sound possibilities, so doodling in audio is just fine for me, but not for people who know me. It’s feeling like I’m being asked a few times a week if I have something to share with others yet or if I’m going to release something in the future. My retort is to ask the person if they watch TV, followed by a serious question: when was the last time they created an episode?

The fact of the matter is I’m like an infant that just inadvertently made a sound that could be construed as “mama,” and I’m told to get serious and write something on par with Moby Dick next week. I was in my 40s when I started to blog, almost 50, when I wrote a book; I’ll probably be close to 60 before I let anyone hear the bleating fart sounds being tortured out of the feral cat called Oscelot.

A rainbow of blinking lights and colorful patch cables

Obsession with this new hobby has gripped me hard, and in order to maximize my time with my new best friend, I drag it to the office. I stay later in the day, and I come in on Saturday and Sunday as I get to turn the volume up beyond what is civil while the crew is at work Monday through Friday. At its new residence in the office, it has another adherent, my old friend, XXXX. When I’m not on it, he is, and then on the weekend, things get kind of wacky as XXXX is a natural on the mic with the ad-libs. Add a delay to a voice, and you can talk your way into hysterics.

From that July order spree, there were still a few things that hadn’t been delivered, and it was already moving into September. These waits are normal and bring to mind a quote by Tim Churches, who was talking about a module he’s had a coding hand in called Ornament & Crime, which I feel says volumes not just about that module but about the entire modular industry. He said, “This isn’t a traditional product designed, manufactured, and sold by a single entity – it’s a post-capitalist artifact of the after-hours sharing economy, and thus mash-ups and overly complex pastiches are to be expected.” And so it is that many of the modules one might like to buy can be out of stock for extended periods of time (in some cases for years) as supplies are difficult to find or other circumstances distract the attention of a module’s creator.

Then, on September 12th, Perfect Circuit Audio notified me that the Stillson Hammer MK2 from The Harvestman had shipped and that they were expecting my Mutable Instruments Blinds to ship in a couple of weeks. Once I got the Stillson, I knew I wanted to order some drum modules, but with the extra modules, I’d soon be out of space in my case and skiff. I guess I have no choice but to reach back out to Germany.

Oscelots at Night

On September 27th, I placed my order with Steffen Ahmed for another red and black WeedyWhizz 9U/104hp case. This time, it cost $1,009 due to currency fluctuations; oh well, $10 wasn’t going to change this equation. The equation I refer to is the one of cost and level of investment someone is going to make who embarks on such an endeavor. People just starting out typically want to have an idea of how to budget for this stuff; the cost of cases and skiffs can be roughly calculated at a per hp price. Consider that a Make Noise powered skiff with 104hp is about $250, a Doepfer A-100PMS9 case with 504hp is $1250, and my handmade case with 312hp was $1000 you get a range of price from about $2.50 per hp to about $3.25 per hp, though if you shop around you might find something as cheap as about $1.75 per hp (ADDAC Monster case with 1,379hp).

The larger the case, though, comes with its own issues: the cost to fill it. It would be a relatively conservative rough estimate to suggest that spending $23 per hp is about what anyone would be forking out to build this type of instrument. So, a case with 3x3U rows at 104hp each would equal a total of 312hp and cost at least $7,000 to fill. A much cheaper route would be the DIY build-your-own modules way, but that’s not the path I took. To be honest, I wanted as much instant gratification as I could afford.

Knowing I have another case on the way gives me a license to start buying modules again. Next up is the Quantum Rainbow, Skorn de Bask, Make Noise Tempi and an Intellijel uVCA ordered on October 13. Over the next weeks, I order the Evaton Technologies CLX which can act as a clock and an LFO, a Make Noise Telharmonic, and the Ornament & Crime. Finally, I ordered the Folktek Matter drum/oscillator voice and a Resist for modulating it.

Uh oh, here comes Thanksgiving and another big sale. But before Caroline and I can take off for a 10-day trip in Oregon over the holiday, Oscelot 2 is delivered. Six months since I bought the Mother 32, and I’m on my way to having 728hp of capacity. It’s feeling crazy, and it will get worse before ever getting better.

Control Voltage in Portland, Oregon

On the coast, I get the notification that the sales have begun. From AnalogueHaven, I nab six more modules the day after Thanksgiving, but my next order will happen in person on Saturday. We left the beautiful rocky Oregon coast to venture into Portland, one of the modular synth capitals of the world. I’m not sure, but I’d wager there are more manufacturers in this city than any other. With them comes an amazing synth shop nearly fully dedicated to Eurorack modules – Control Voltage.

All the while, I’ve been building my ensemble of cases I’ve been doing what many of us do when not wiggling: I’m configuring and reconfiguring my cases virtually on Modulargrid.net. So, even before you buy your first module, you can start dreaming of what you will one day own and build by dropping images into a placeholder case and then endlessly moving them around until you achieve the perfect configuration.

Knowing what I already own, what has been ordered, and what I will buy at Control Voltage, I also know I’m going to be buying a new skiff, bringing me to 832hp of modular Eurocrack addiction. At the shop, I meet Joseph, who is now working full time with 4MS, and Eusebie whom I will meet again on subsequent visits; both are incredibly helpful. Satisfaction is within my grasp and can be mine for the swipe of a card signifying I am transferring my cash to an account that allows me to consider a bunch of new modules as now being my property. Going into my carry-on bag are one 4MS VCA Matrix, a Soundmachines Lightplane, the Malekko Heavy Industries Varigate 8+, and another Intellijel Buff Mult.

Eurorack Modules

Back at home in Phoenix, I get to work rearranging my cases in the endless pursuit of finding an optimal layout that will probably remain forever elusive. In my frenzy, I ordered even more stuff; sales are hard not to get excited about when 10% off an order could save me the price of an entire module. So before I know it, I have another bunch of modules, including some Hexinverter Mutant drums, a Neutron Sound Orgone Accumulator, a couple of Soundmachines Lightstrips, the Intellijel Planar, the AntiMatter Brainseed, and a couple of modules from the incredibly entertaining Jesse McCreadie of Animodule.

Only a couple of days go by before I get an email from Brian Clarkson of Orthogonal Devices in Japan that the ER-301 Sound Computer/Sampler has been shipped to me. Back on October 31, I had read about a new very expensive module that had recently gone up for order. If it was truly a work of art and genius, if it really did all that was claimed. At nearly $900, it felt way out of my league, and I left my office dreaming about it. A friend and I were on our way to meet someone else for dinner; he was driving. We weren’t 10 minutes up the road before I pulled out my phone and slain the monster of FOMO. I punched in my PayPal info and had my unit reserved; I was winning. Good thing, too, as not long afterward, it was sold out and would remain so for almost six months.

Orthogonal Devices ER-301

On December 7th the last module of the year arrives, the ER-301.

Years before, when I was playing with Adobe’s Premiere Pro and After Effects, I came to learn of Chris Meyer, who was offering some crack tutorials for After Effects with his wife, Trish. I signed up for Lynda.com because of them; I bought their books, and I was in love with After Effects. By 2016, they were a distant memory due to my previous two years of being immersed in my virtual reality project. Then, as I embark on this modular endeavor in one of the forums, I see the name Chris Meyer. A coincidence for sure, but no way it could be the same guy. That other Chris Meyer was a video guy, not a synthesizer nerd. After seeing his name pop up a few times on Facebook, I take a closer look and sure enough, it’s the After Effect guru himself.

Turns out he had a Learning Modular course on Lynda that I just had to sign up for, which turned out to be super helpful. He wrote a great resource on his website in the form of a glossary of modular synthesizer terms. The guy is incredible for the amount of material he shares, and I’m about to knock on that door and test just how helpful he can be.

I remembered that he’d posted an image of a damaged Eurorack case that was GIANT; as a matter of fact, it was a Monster – the ADDAC Monster case. My cases were approaching full status, and my curiosity for playing with unique modules was not subsiding. I pinged Chris and hoped he’d take a moment to answer the questions of a novice about his big boy toy. Sure enough, he answered promptly, but my knowledge of power supplies, busboards, +12V/-12V, and +5V rails is non-existent, so I’ll have to read more and ask a lot more.

John Wise and the ADDAC Monster Eurorack Case

A flurry of emails between André Gonçalves of ADDAC and myself starting in late January allows me to build up the nerve to cross a serious rubicon; I’m going to order 1,379hp of new Eurorack space; I just don’t know exactly when yet. Turns out that I needed another 60 days, and then on March 25th, 2017, I wrote to André and told him to bill me. Over the next weeks, he will send me photos of the progress and how it will be packaged for shipment. Then, on May 1st, the Monster arrived; it was all mine.

By now, you know what comes next: order more gear. Again, I put orders in with AnalogueHaven, I stop at Perfect Circuit Audio on a trip to Los Angeles, I make a stop at Noisebug in Southern California on another trip over to Los Angeles, and finally, I drop in on the guys at Control Voltage in Portland again. Mail order is also in high gear, with orders coming in from Iron Ether and their Pithoprakta; a guy is selling his Benjolin, which I can’t find anywhere, so I take it. Over on Kickstarter back in February, I got the first order in and nabbed serial #1 of a giant 4-voice oscillator coming from the brilliant mind of Paul Schreiber at Synthesis Technology called the E370. At 54HP, it is enormous but doesn’t ship until the end of the year.

It took me nearly 10 hours to empty my two WeedyWhizz cases and two Make Noise skiffs and mount all the modules in the new Monster. Lucky me it’s about 10:00 pm when I first power this thing on as it lights up like a Christmas tree. I say lucky because I get to turn off all the lights and marvel at this work of art. Earlier in the day, I had already powered it on and let it sit for a while, then I powered it off and back on, cycling it quickly to make sure there weren’t any apparent anomalies. Then I plugged in a buffered mult and sniffed around, making sure nothing smelled out of the ordinary. Then, to be extra cautious, I plug in another relatively inexpensive module and fire it up again, sniff sniff….nothing.

ADDAC Monster

So here I am on the one-year anniversary of finding myself with a new hobby and there’s been a lot learned along the way. The age-old cliched and worn arguments of Ford vs. Chevy, Coke vs. Pepsi, PC vs. Mac, and iPhone vs. Android are alive and well in the world of modular, with the sides being Analog vs. Digital. This is inherently dumb, as who cares what creates the sounds if the music has entertainment value? Nobody cares how a catchy track is made and on what gear, they want to like what they hear. I’m nearly certain there were arguments 40,000 years ago as someone boreholes in a bone and invented the flute from others in the group who fought for banging rocks and clicking twigs vs. flutes.

It’s not impossible to teach old dogs new tricks; it just might take longer. Then again, I don’t run into many people older than 40 who are venturing into complex new trajectories where they are allowed to put their incompetence on display. My biggest impediment to springing forward is money and time. Here we are with the ability to purchase a computer capable of running artificial intelligence algorithms for about half the cost of a new car, but $10,000 is still quite a bit when your synth hobby is costing you almost four times that amount. Then there’s time: I operate a small company of about thirty people and finding free moments to teach myself about control voltages, subtractive synthesis, Euclidean rhythms, chords, measures, keys, notes, beats, midi, and mixers is already at a premium. One of my dreams is that I might have the ability, time, and equipment in retirement to dedicate myself to writing, photography, video, coding, music, reading, cooking, and, who knows, maybe even some knitting.

When one delves into modular synthesis, one will learn that this field comes with as many opinions as there are modules, now estimated in the thousands. It is often said, “Learning this can only be complicated by owning too many modules too quickly,” but how much is too fast too soon? I’m now up to 124 modules, which equates to one new module acquired every three days. I certainly have not had enough time to master even one of them. You will often read the advice to go slow and get a few modules to start and learn them in all of their intricacies and only then start adding to the collection. While this is probably valid, I find the opportunity to explore combinations of modules interfacing with other diverse units to be an exercise in sifting through the complex of infinity, where it’s simply fun to play among audio doodles that don’t require explicit function or performance qualities. Again, it need not be the goal of a hobby to impress others with your prowess but to relish in the ability to slowly increment your body of knowledge and skills.

A painter with a palette of one color will surely make something incredible once they’ve developed enough skills. I’d never argue against the idea that the cave paintings found in Chauvet made with charcoal black are astonishing glimpses of early human creativity, but the vibrancy found in Marc Chagall’s work allows us to peer into the imagination of a dream where reality is giving way to the unexpected. It is my hope that as I explore from a palette of over 120 “colors,” I may discover a new method for weaving a tapestry drawn from frequencies, beats, drones, found sound, randomness, and complexity so I may discover another aspect of my voice for altering the cultural landscape.

Ultimately, I will approach the fulcrum, both equipment and skill-wise, where the output will start to demonstrate a basic level of adaptation, allowing me to communicate to others what I’ve learned along this path. I harbor no illusions of stumbling upon something that will have anyone take notice of my efforts; on the contrary, I require this exercise in order for me to edify myself at a stage in life where I’ve witnessed many other people fall into intellectual stagnation. Growing older I’m delighting in the knowledge that I have an ability and a large interest in exploring the unexplored territory where discovery and the complex is still a magical journey.

Oregon 2017 – Day 4

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

John Wise and Caroline Wise at Cannon Beach, Oregon

Let’s just call it a down day on which we sip coffee at the Sleepy Monk, eat, sit by the fireplace in our cabin, and walk along the beach when there are breaks in the rain. Later in the day, we drove down to Manzanita for dinner with Aubrey and Laura at the Blackbird Restaurant. I met Aubrey the year before at the Sleepy Monk, where he introduced himself after seeing my notebook with a ton of synth stickers plastered on it and told me of his recently acquired Black & Gold Shared System from MakeNoise.