Establishing Camp

      

    Establishing Camp

“There is no success without hardship”-Sophocles

    The creek before us split into three.  The majority of the water disappeared to the right as it filtered itself through the bushes. Weird. The middle fork was clear from obstruction but wasn’t enough water for our rafts. “We go left here.” I said.  

   “Okay.” said my partner and we pushed and pulled and dragged the raft over a formidable blockade of beaver chewed branches.  The narrow and very shallow channel led to a beaver pond. I pulled on the bow as he pushed and pulled on the the stern. Although much smaller than myself, my partner was strong enough to pull his weight and wasn’t much for complaining. Perfect. Soon enough we made it to the pond.  

    The work today was easier than the two days prior.  Dragging a raft over miles of shallow and skinny water is tough but not nearly as tough as ferrying 400 pounds of gear on your back several miles and certainly not as tough as pushing a loaded cart 500 vertical feet up a steep trail.

    “I’ll paddle over to the dam.  You go back up and help your dad.”  My partner agreed and disappeared back upstream.  My nephew Keaton was not only my raft partner. He was also my cart pushing partner and tent mate.  Keaton is thirteen.

    As he disappeared back upstream, I paddled across the beaver pond until I reached the dam.  Since this was not my first rodeo, I have learned how to negotiate the dam. There is a solid eight foot drop to the creek below the dam and I knew just what to do.  After removing a few sticks the water started to flow. After several more sticks I was ready to pull the raft over the dam. There was enough water flushing over the “chute” that I’d created  allowing the raft to slide over and down to the skinny creek below. With one last pull the raft came sliding down the dam, into the creek. Pete and his two boys were halfway across the pond by now and would perform the same slide into the creek below.

    Over the years, we have established various campsites along our route that we look forward to.  Each camp is considered for it’s strategic benefits and drawbacks and although we like to have an open mind about trying new spots we usually settle on the same ol’ campsites; they are like old friends.  

   Our first camp spot is usually only a couple of bends further downstream and we were looking forward to using it again but this year would be different.  As I rounded the last corner leading to camp motion caught my eye. There, not fifty feet from me was a bear standing on his hind legs looking at me over the top of some bushes.  The snapshot image I still have in my brain from that moment resembles a lifesize honey bear; It was honey color, had rounded ears and beady eyes, and was motionless.

    I scrambled to the raft and was able to gather my .45 magnum pistol posthaste.  I turned and honey bear was gone. I would soon find out that there was a dead moose there that the bear was feeding on.  It was a scene that we have observed before. The moose carcass, barely visible now, was almost completely buried. Nearby bushes were ripped out of the ground and freshly exposed soil was piled on top of the moose.  Only the bony lower jaw was visible as we quickly escorted our rafts past the scene. I could imagine the bear aggressively scooping through its hind legs, dirt flying.

    After that I was on high-alert and felt a bit like Tom Cruise in Mission impossible, gun drawn, head on a swivel;  I joked with whole crew later at camp that I thought about doing a dive-roll into some nearby bushes for cover. Brenton, Pete’s younger son, who is eleven believed me if only for a moment; that was good enough for me.

    We continued downriver for about another mile until we felt good about our distance from the moose carcass.  This would turn-out to be a good basecamp for us and we began the process of setting up. The camp worked well and I wonder if next year we will be inclined to use it again.

Keaton took this beautiful interior grizzly.
It could be Honey Bear!?!?

      

Brenton and Keaton: Just two Alaskan boys doing Alaskan things.