Flying, Bears and more…..

It's been said that airplanes are used in Alaska in much the same way cars and trucks are used in the lower 48. One source says that one out of 60 people own an airplane. Many plane owners own more than one. One out of every 61 people is a pilot though not all pilots own their own airplanes. This is the greatest number of pilots in the US and the highest number in the world. In big cities like Anchorage, fewer people are pilots than in small communities where one out of every five people could be a pilot. Alaska has only 3 or 4 major highways. Even the state capital, Juneau, has no roads in or out and is accessible only by water or air.

Alaska is huge with great distances and impassable terrain between cities and villages. Airplanes provide quick travel. Despite the fact that much of Alaska is remote, Alaskans seem to crave being MORE remote. For this reason, many Alaskans routinely fly to cabins in the bush, to go hunting, fishing, clamming, berry picking, visiting or just to sight-see.
Flying in small airplanes takes a bit of getting used to. For me, what I see from above, overcomes any anxiety I might have. When our daughter, Carlisle, asks if I want to go flying, I always say, "YES".

We are a family who enjoy hunting. Every Fall we join many Alaskans who load gear into small airplanes to hunt wild game or fish remote rivers.

when floating rivers, gravel bars become local runways

float planes make mountain lakes accessible

one of the odder planes we've flown in, a 1943  Grumman Widgeon

the Widgeon delivered us to a Kodiak island for a spring bear hunt

About every two years, usually in September, we fly above the Arctic Circle to the western Alaskan city of Kotzebue. Often, within hours of landing, me hop into smaller airplanes which take us near the Brooks Range and into caribou country. For the next 10 days we are tiny specks on an enormous landscape. We exist in solitude in what is perhaps some of the most remote and spectacularly beautiful country on earth.

 in the hangar sorting through gear .......don't forget the oars!

where fresh water meets the sea

We're never quite sure where our hunt will take us until we set down. We have never hunted the same place twice. Although we arrive with certain rivers in mind to float, weather can dictate where we end up. Plans can change rapidly, sometimes in mid-flight poor visibility can prohibit further travel in one direction and we seek other options.

 being dropped on the Squirrel River

                                                       enjoying some late day sun

This is a typical camp site. We tend to stay in one place for just one night unless the the hunting or weather dictates a longer stay. There's a burning desire to know what lies around the next bend of the river.

                                  Our tent sits in the brush along the Emiliuk River, with our blue raft on the bar.

                                        caribou move with great ease across the tundra and the rivers

                                                                                   gawking as we float by

Animals feeding or strolling the river's edge are seldom disturbed by our raft floating quietly by. We often see moose and caribou, sometimes bear and occasionally musk ox, which are a sight to behold. What an unusual animal!

Bucky and I are so fortunate to have our daughter Carlisle along on these adventures. We would suffer without her expertise and her great strength is an added bonus.

                  dragging the bottom is never fun, but when it's due to a boat being heavy with meat, it's not a bad thing

                                                        this fellow wasn't shy about helping himself to left overs

                                        but when he started to get too comfortable around camp he needed to be run off

Any hunter knows the ups and downs that accompany this activity. The sun doesn't always shine, the animals aren't always where they're expected to be, but nature never disappoints.

                                            a western arctic sunset, in September, darkness has returned

                                              no caribou! then we'll eat ptarmigan

                                                 

                                        on the banks of the Anisak River.....I called it the zebra rock

                                                   natural ice bowl, no need for refrigeration in the arctic

yes, it's cold

                                                                    putting on a happy face despite the cold rain

A tarp provides some quick shelter from midday rain without having  to set up camp. I remember that warm soup tasted darn good.

                                                         caribou racks left on the tundra

                            the time a grizzly came close to camp. One of my all time favorite photos.

                                                          no animals, we'll eat Grayling

wonder where we are?

I originally titled this post "flying" with the intent of showing through my photos the importance of airplanes in Alaska. Feelings and emotions are projected with photography. I've tried to capture the feelings and personal emotions that accompany this type of travel. In our busy lives, there are very few times when the outside world isn't intrusive. It's an interesting emotion when watching the airplane that placed you on unfamiliar ground, lift off and fly away, eventually becoming a speck and then erased from view. It is equally emotional to hear a plane's engine in the distance long before seeing it, hoping that it's your pick-up and that it will soon circle, land and return you to what is comfortable and familiar.

                              the tent remains up until it is confirmed we can make it out in one flight or in case of a weather delay

Several times, we have taken small planes to see bears in Katmai National Park and Lake Clark National Park. We also flew to view bears on Kodiak Island. Unfortunately, I have no pictures to show of the Kodiak brown bear. Bucky and I traveled from Kodiak City to South Frazer Lake in what could be considered the limo of float planes, a DeHavilland Beaver. I had secured, through a lottery bid, a three day stay in a NPS cabin near the Dog Salmon River during the weeks of prime bear viewing. Here the bears are easily seen feeding on Sockeye. It was quite a score! The day we were to fly out, Kodiak was socked in as it so often is. The ceiling was too low to fly and rain fell steadily often seeming to come at us sideways.

Our flight service had suggested that if we questioned the adequacy of our rain suits, that we stand in the shower for five minutes wearing them and see if we remained dry!

At our scheduled time of departure, we were notified that storms were too severe to fly us to our cabin. We impatiently waited all day to receive a late afternoon call saying that the weather had lifted enough to fly. We high tailed it to the float dock. Our gear, including a Zodiac and motor, was quickly loaded and our pilot hastily became airborne. It was done in such a rush that I have no memory of our pilot's name or really what he looked like. It wasn't long into our hour long trip that turbulence hit. I knew I could probably fight air sickness, but wasn't sure about Bucky, who sat up front with our pilot. We bounced along, at times so severely that I checked behind me to see if the cargo net was still secure. I certainly didn't want to get bonked by the outboard motor. I heard through my headset, that Bucky was asking the pilot for more air. All vents were pushed wide open and a refreshing rainy mist hit my face. This gave me hope that both of us would not be sick. Between long bouts of rising and falling air, there were minutes of calm air providing hope that the worse was over. During these times, I was able to push aside the nausea that was steadily building. Finally, upon the conclusion of a prolonged stretch of rough air, Bucky and I simultaneously reached for our air sick bags. 

The float plane glided to a stop and idled to the beach. Our camping gear, boat, motor, coolers and fishing gear were placed on the beach. Bucky and I walked past it all having no energy to carry it to the cabin.We knew with bears around it was unwise to leave our belonging including food on the beach, but were too sick to deal with it. Instead, we hurried over the boardwalk leading to the cabin. Once inside, we flopped down on the bunk beds lining the cabin wall, thinking we would never feel well again. Surprisingly, within a few hours we had recovered enough to be able to retrieve our untouched gear. We inflated the Zodiac, attached the outboard motor and headed across Frazer Lake. In moments. we were sitting mere yards from a sow wrestling with her cubs. Other bears fed on fish in the river while some strolled through the surrounding tall grass, occasionally rising onto their rear legs to get a better view. I find this posture to be both amazing and terrifying as bear and human eyes meet! Watching these animals was incredible. Unfortunately, I had no camera to record it. At some point during our turbulent flight, my camera had flown out of the cargo area, I'm thinking that it could have been during a particular series of violent bumps, when despite my overly tight seat belt, my head touched the plane's ceiling.  

The following day we motored again across the lake to the Dog Salmon River. I was curious if the playful cubs of the previous day would be back. We landed the Zodiac and I took a seat on the grassy knoll next to a pilot who had flown a young family in. Our conversation, as conversations often do, turned to discussing the weather. I spoke of the previous day's storms and he commented that his company had quit flying early in the day, much before we took off. I included some details about our flight and the fact that my camera had slipped out of the cargo compartment. It was then that he said he had heard over the radio about our rough ride and that a camera had been "left" on a plane. I then asked if he could talk to our air service and have my camera put on the plane scheduled to pick us up. Luckily, that did happen, but I felt cheated by not having it at this special time. I did have it for the next leg of our trip which took us from Kodiak to Katmai National Park and Brooks Falls, also famous for bears. Our flight over Shelikoff Strait was smooth as silk.

                      Brooks Falls, the bears are focused on sockeye that are swimming upstream, jumping the falls.

                                                                          bears don't like to share their fish

                               

                                                                                           looking for fish

                                        this wolf peered through the grass toward the river also in search of fish

                                                                   air taxis sitting on Naknek Lake

People from around the world travel to Katmai National Park during July and August, arriving by float plane on turquoise Naknek Lake. There is no land runway or access by land.

                                                                                    Bucky retreating

When we weren't looking at bears, we tried our luck competing with them for fish.

We spent a few nights sleeping on the floor of Roy Fure's cabin on Naknek Lake, owned by the park service. I can't believe there's a sweeter place on earth. 

In Lake Clark National Park, we watched coastal bears digging clams and eating grasses. a much more delicate approach to a meal than that of the Brooks bears. Here we made a beach landing on Chinitna Bay and our pilot became our bear guide.

not the best weather, our pilot in brown pants and airplane in background

young bears love to wrestle

                                                                                         

Airplanes and bears are connected in many ways including the fact that bears sometimes eat airplanes as they love gnawing on anything smelling of fuel, food, in particular fish or sometimes just for fun.

                                                                                      this is not our airplane and not my photo

to be continued.....

Bon Appetit!

our building site in 2012

This summer wasn't to start in the manner it did, but a simple thought of mine turned into a major project for my husband, Bucky. More often than not, my "thoughts" are poo pooed as being impossible. Imagine my great surprise when the thought I'm about to detail, was accepted. Bucky is a man who thrives on staying busy. His hands are rarely idle. He has a large building project ahead of him this summer which I'll be sure to document, but at present had nothing to do. I assume it was for this reason that he accepted my idea.

The summer of 2012 was a summer of construction. We milled the timbers for our cabin from trees harvested on our land, used a few logs from neighbors and we were able to have our base cabin completed by summer's end.

We were ecstatic with what we had accomplished within a short period of time. My only unhappiness was the location of the kitchen. Due to the spacing of certain timbers, the position of the door and the placement of the ladder to access the loft, the kitchen could not be located on the front wall as planned, but took shape on the rear wall.

In 2013, Bucky added a small workshop and pantry/storage room off the main cabin.

In 2017, he created a rain catch water system and plumbed the sink for "running" water. He also constructed an awesome outdoor shower.

                                                                                           the 2013 addition

workshop in the front

pantry/storage in the rear

Fast forward to our arrival this summer at the end of June. As I sat in our kitchen/living room, I once again bemoaned the fact that we had no table to eat at and really nowhere to locate a couch for comfy seating. Much of our entertaining has our guests eating off their laps while seated on log stumps or folding chairs. These are wonderful seating options if one doesn't want company to linger long! Suddenly, I had a thought! Why not move the kitchen into the storage room!! We had previously discussed making this space into a downstairs bedroom, but its failure to be large enough to accommodate a queen size bed put an end to that. We had also talked about expanding the main cabin, but I was resistant to changing the original cabin in any way. It had been a labor of love and each timber told a tale. I mentioned my present thought to Bucky.........he bit and so our summer began.

first a window was added, note the outdoor shower

the additional natural light was an unforeseen bonus

                                                          the old kitchen cupboards and sink were dismantled

and reassembled in the new space

The chest freezer has been moved to the little cabin making room for the refrigerator to the left of the sink. Bucky has rerouted his plumbing and has moved our propane generated hot water heater to a position on the exterior wall nearer to the sink. We were able to purchase a used gas stove so we'll replace our apartment sized electric range with a full size gas range. Bucky is presently working on the gas hook up. All in all, it's a small kitchen, but feels good to those who have used it. The benefit is, now our folding chairs will be used by the fire pit and our guests will eventually have "real" furniture to sit on. Perhaps we've created a situation in which folks feel free to linger! I sure hope so!

It's finished. Bucky made a small but useful butcher block to the left of the stove to fill some empty counter space.

OK, let's get the summer started!

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.

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!

our captain

watching us pass

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.

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. 

Jim Beaver's cabin

the ferns were so high.....and mosquitoes were so thick

use your imagination......once an amazing spot

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. 

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. 

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.

later on, fish kissing!

Watch for future posts of "new beginnings".

Roadside Attractions

It seems I've moved our entire house into the RV in an attempt to leave things uncluttered for our renters. The violet given to me on Mother's Day, by our daughter Burke, now jiggles along in the kitchen sink as proof of this. I couldn't bear the thought of returning home to find it dead.  Now if it dies, it will die by my hand! 

Death is a "fact of life" beside Interstate 90. Which seems a contradiction.  Just after our first toll booth exit, a spotted fawn dashed confidently into our lane of traffic, leaving its mother helplessly looking on.  I can only imagine what raced through this mother's mind. Having the athleticism and agility possessed by the young, the fawn dodged and weaved its way to  safety.  A glance in the rearview showed the doe cautiously crossing to stand at its side. Near the Pennsylvania border, a woodchuck munched on green grass with semis thundering past. As it slipped from my view, I noticed the small brown bump by its side....a baby! Shielded by its mother and naturally a less energetic animal, I think this youngster stood the chance of remaining alive. We had traveled only a few more miles when a  tiny fawn lay dead on the shoulder... no mother in sight. In my mind, I pictured the car approaching, the confusion, the impact, then the fawnless doe fleeing. One lucky fawn, one not so lucky. Why do deer have the great desire to leave the safety of the woods to challenge the hot asphalt?

I've been writing of mothers and offspring, but today is Father's Day.  Somewhere in New York I looked down from my elevated perch into a housing development. A father crouched low to catch his young daughter's pitch. She whipped her arm around in the incredible way girl's pitch softball. In the blink of an eye they too were gone. I assume he caught the ball. A brief cameo of a father's love. Early this morning before the sun heated up the day, I noticed a lone golfer standing over his ball. The comment was made,"playing with all his friends ".  I had the opposite response,

"It's probably exactly how he wants  to spend his Father's Day, alone on the golf course."  

Of the truckers that I've looked up high to see in their rigs, it appears to be just another work day.

But then again, perhaps they aren't fathers. My chauffeur is much the same. His special day will end in a Walmart parking lot in Toledo, Ohio. We'll celebrate with a cold drink, stretch our cramped legs while walking our dog, eat our supper and fall asleep to the white sounds of the city.

And, I know that's exactly how he wants to spend  Father's Day.

 

Typed on my phone, please ignore any errors.