The River......
Flowing west from its headwaters in the Talkeetna Mountains, the Talkeetna River flows about 80 miles merging with the Susitna and Chulitna Rivers near the town of Talkeetna, Alaska. Roughly translated from native Athabascan, Talkeetna means, the place where three rivers meet. For me, it means grey, untamed water giving access to remote places where salmon spawn, moose and bear stroll on fern laden river bank, eagles watch from above and new sights await around bends of silty water.
While writing, my thoughts seem to flow along, but eventually tangle together like unruly closet coat hangers, clinging to each other as I try to separate them. Without forethought or intent, they commit to one another, much like dog hair to my favorite black skirt.
Begin, start, get going, all words implying movement forward. In many ways, this summer in Alaska has new beginnings. I think you'll notice during my next several posts, the tangle of "coat hangers" finally separating.
Begin, start, get going, all words implying movement forward. In many ways, this summer in Alaska has new beginnings. I think you'll notice during my next several posts, the tangle of "coat hangers" finally separating.
In 2009, our daughter purchased a small used Jon boat and a new motor. Running the nearby rivers, became an almost daily event. Often accompanied by friends, sockeye were caught, gravel bars and river banks were explored and summer eclipsed like the glint of the setting sun glancing off the water. For the next several years, summer days seemed endless with our river trips often starting at the end of the work day and concluding near midnight. Only when the light dimmed to the point of making the water difficult to read did we head home, cap brims pulled low to shade the setting sun.
Glacially fed rivers are unpredictable. Unlike Vermont, where our rivers rise with rain, the Talkeetna River reacts to what is occurring on the glaciers of the Talkeetna Mountains. Warm days cause glacial ice to melt, raising the water level.
In 2012, an unforeseen weather event dramatically raised the water level of the Talkeetna River. Overnight, the swift moving river water entered the eddy where our boat was moored. It easily climbed over the boat's shallow sides, eventually swamping it and rolling it over. The following morning it was righted and the motor, engulfed by silty water, was cleaned as thoroughly as possible.
In 2014, after more than a year of trusty service, the motor died. Three summers passed and the boat sat idle on its trailer. All that changed this summer!
In 2012, an unforeseen weather event dramatically raised the water level of the Talkeetna River. Overnight, the swift moving river water entered the eddy where our boat was moored. It easily climbed over the boat's shallow sides, eventually swamping it and rolling it over. The following morning it was righted and the motor, engulfed by silty water, was cleaned as thoroughly as possible.
In 2014, after more than a year of trusty service, the motor died. Three summers passed and the boat sat idle on its trailer. All that changed this summer!
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| our captain |
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| watching us pass |
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| railroad trestle over the Talkeetna, town lies out of sight to the right |
July 3, 2018 was a new beginning! Seamlessly, we picked up where we had left off four summers before. The new Yamaha jet motor emulated its dependable predecessor. Under blue skies and mild temperatures we set out to investigate familiar haunts.
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| faster, larger boats heading upriver, Baldy Mountain |
The channel leading to Jim Beaver's cabin had changed, but we were able to negotiate it and found the cabin sitting as I had remembered, buried in ferns.
It didn't feel intrusive to investigate this old Alaskan homestead. In fact, it furthered my understanding and appreciation for the family. Without doubt, there were hardships when living on the river, but this location, so rich in natural resources, must have provided great pleasure as well.
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| Jim Beaver's cabin |
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| the ferns were so high.....and mosquitoes were so thick |
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| use your imagination......once an amazing spot |
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| jobs left unfinished |
The river had changed. as it does from year to year. Braids that once were passable, now were choked with fallen trees. We found the main channel to be narrowed forcing us to take side channels, providing the thrill of the unknown. I was surprised at how familiar it all felt. I easily recognized the gravel bar where our dog, Fisher, had run free after traveling there by boat and I saw the picnic spot we once shared with spawned sockeye and a black bear.
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| bear tracks |
The entrance to Clear Creek remained the same and memories surfaced of our futile attempts at catching Chinook Salmon. While these great fish cleaned their gills of silt in the clear water, we tossed every lure in our arsenal at them, only to watch them swim away on their journey to spawn.
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| Clear Creek |
We traveled a bit further up river before ending our maiden voyage. Carlisle took a few casts at a favorite fishing spot. When the Sockeye arrive, the scene here will be quite different.
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| later on, fish kissing! |
Watch for future posts of "new beginnings".