AWC Day 3

Day 3:  Tsusena Butte to lower Deadman

High point overlooking Tsusena Butte and lake.

     We awoke the next morning feeling a little stiff.  I nixed my long standing policy of avoiding ibuprofen and before long I was pain-free; amazing stuff!  Arthur had developed blisters on his heels and would have to deal with them as they worsened throughout the trip.  It was a glorious new day and the sun was shining.  We slowly packed up camp, drank our Starbucks french roast coffee and ate some delicious dehydrated bananas that Art made at home.  Before long we were off through the thicket searching for good ground to advance our efforts.  
     The day’s hiking started out pretty rough.  Game trails were scattered and all led downhill to the bogs.  We had no choice but to suck-it-up and do what the good lord put Arthur on this Earth to do: Bushwack.  
     Reflecting back on this trip I can say that for the most part we were very well matched as far as hiking speed.  We would often trade off leading and there weren't many times when the other would get too far ahead.  The one exception was when Art was in the lead through the tangle.  18 years my senior, he turned 65 on our trip and he is a sight to behold in the bushes.  The true Alder Whisperer, he would blow through the thrash like a gentle breeze.  Often I was stumbling behind with my pack caught on a low-hanging alder struggling and sweating and Arthur would be gliding onto the next grove of gnarly entanglement with a hop in his step and a song in his heart.  
     We considered a classification system for bushwhacking alders: Mild scrambling and walking around most of the alders would be “A1”  Some crawling over/under would be “A2”.  Sustained climbing/crawling is “A3”  Long uninterrupted sections of A3 over uneven terrain including creek crossings with no end in sight would be “A4.”  
     After negotiating several sections of A3+ we finally climbed out of it to a beautiful high spot overlooking Tsusena Butte, and Tsusena Butte lake.  From this vantage point we could see where we had come from and where we were going.   “Hey there’s a lodge down there,” I said. Sure enough, on the Northwest end of the lake was a large cabin with several outbuildings, floating dock, and some sort of antiquated track vehicle.
      It took us a couple of hours to make our way down to the lake that included descending a steep ravine and crossing a large swamp.  Swamp crossings can be dubious affairs.  It’s never clear what is beneath as you commit to a step.  I’m especially leery when a step causes a jello-like ripple in the surrounding bog.  It’s all fun and games until someone slides down into the swamp of sadness like the horse in “The Never Ending Story.” (look it up)

A bog of eternal despair

      After successfully traversing the bog we had a nice walk down-to and along the lake.  Some small trout or grayling were rising off-shore making me pine for my fly rod.  Fresh fish in camp would have been a welcome addition to any of our freeze dried meals.  We came to the end of the lake where it necked down to a couple hundred feet before opening back up into another lobe of the lake.  We decided to raft across this section instead of walking all the way around the other side of the lake.  I inflated my raft and made three trips ferrying our whole kit to the other side.  On my first return trip I slipped on a rock getting back into the boat and fell in the lake.  It was a nice day and it felt good.  It must have been hilarious to watch it happen.  I wish Art would have got it on video!  From there we ascended a series of knobs that overlooked the Deadman Creek drainage.  We picked our way down into the valley below where we scared up two young bull moose that were probably twins.  Their dark velvet antlers were no bigger than frying pans; Surprisingly these were the first moose we’d seen on the trip.  
     We picked our way towards the creek and soon enough we could hear the roar of the water.  Much like Tsusena, Deadman Creek was a raging torrent.  from Google Earth we couldn’t tell whether or not it was ford-able, raft-able, or altogether impassable.  We decided to hike downstream to see if it settled down.  A half a mile or so downriver we discovered a great section to cross in our rafts.  It was a hundred yard mellow stretch sandwiched between a couple of rowdy sections above and below.  Our task was to inflate our rafts and paddle across to the other side before being flushed into the rapids below.  

Safely across Deadman, Art looks below where
the creek was less forgiving. 

     The move was well within our wheelhouse and before long we were high- fiving each other safely on the other side.  “Hey Art, can we say we pack rafted Deadman?”
     “Absolutely.” He said.  
     We packed up our stuff and continued what would be an easy ramble downhill towards our next obstacle, the Susitna River.  We made it to within four miles of the Big Su and decided to stop for the day; 12 hours was enough for today. 
     I have an intimate connection with the Susitna River and I was excited to check out a part of it I'd never seen.  We made camp on a high spot with a few nice spruce trees near what Art called a "babbling brook."  I had Chili mac Mountain House and Artie had beef stroganoff; Life couldn't be better.  We sat together on the soft moss overlooking the creek.  Art was fishing his next bite out of his dinner pouch. 
     "I can't believe we still haven't seen any caribou." I said. Although we'd spent 75% of our time walking on their trails and had discovered tons of their antler sheds it was puzzling to me as well.  We surmised that during the summer the Nelchina Herd must be closer to the Glenn highway side of their range.  
     It was another great day of sustained hiking through untouched country.  This would become known as Deadman camp.

AWC Day 2

Day 2:  The Tsusena

Art at "Woods camp"

      The anticipation of walking over the next mountain pass to discover a new valley is the stuff of Christmas morning. Although I had scouted this valley extensively from the comforts of my living room with coffee and laptop (Google Earth,) the reality of discovering it on foot pales in comparison. Most notably, the scale of how big these valleys, mountains and rivers is really hard to gauge from home.  
      The low angle pass was an easy ridge walk along meandering benches.  The caribou trails we were on could have been single track mountain bike trails.  There was a small lake at the pass with four harlequin ducks swimming, diving, and carrying-on.  We stopped for lunch and watched the ducks do their thing. 
     “Hey Artie, try some of this.”  I handed him some moose jerky that I had made for the trip.  It was a recipe I got from my buddy Bryan.  We shared food everyday; the variety was nice.
     We made our way down and out of the pass into the headwaters of Tsusena Creek. We had hoped to be able to packraft some of it and take-out before Tsusena Butte eleven miles downstream.  Below the Butte is a 120 foot water fall.  Roman Dial and Forrest McCarthy, a couple of pros by anyone’s standards floated it several years ago and classified the Tsusena as sustained class 2+ with sections of class 3 with some “spicy” sections.  As we made our way along the Tsusena it was easy to see that we would not be pack rafting unless it settled down considerably.  Long wave trains of five foot waves took turns with a few holes and haystacks sprinkled in for fun. 
     On our rookie application we declared that we were both comfortable with class 3 whitewater but unwilling to take unnecessary chances in such a remote setting. We brought drysuits but did not bring life jackets or helmets.   All sections that we saw were within our capabilities and looked like fun but we both agreed that it would be prudent to hike out.  
      After one particularly harrowing stream crossing, we made our way down to the valley below.  From here we would work our way on-top-of and around some high knobs, picking our way through the brush to areas of better hiking.  We found several moose sheds in this area including a full set from a large mid 50’s inch bull.  We checked in on the Tsusena several more times and agreed that we made the right decision.  
     The bushwhacking was getting real at this point and I wondered if it were indicative of what was to come lower in the valley.  I found a game trail that ran along the bottom of the last knob and as we followed it the trail got better and better.  Soon the trail swung towards the river and for three solid miles we walked on the most beautiful game trail that I’ve ever seen.  We tried not to jinx ourselves by talking about it too much, but I couldn’t help it.  “This is like a trail in a National Park!”  The path meandered through a healthy spruce forest along the clear and fast Tsusena.  It was a beautiful sunny day and the hiking was excellent.  
       All good thing must come to an end and sure enough our dream trail eventually led us into what we would come-to-know-as the bog of eternal despair.  At one point after sloshing through beaver choked lowlands we encountered a rather lively stream rushing before us.  The water was thigh deep and the volume and speed of it combined with the fact the the bowling bowl sized boulders were slimy. The banks were packed with gnarly bushes and it was the first time that we found ourselves fording a stream and bushwacking at the same time.  
     Finally we made it to higher ground but it was slow going again.  We followed a game trail to the top of a hill.  “Whoa, look at this.”  The entire hilltop was ripped apart and littered with bones.  It was as if a bulldozer had worked over the area.  I had seen this before and knew that it was where a bear buried a moose carcass.  Art took the jaw and jabbed it into the dirt straight up-and-down to serve as a marker.  We were ahead of at least 2 people at this point and anyone passing this spot would surely notice it.  It was our little way of saying Hi.
      We zigzagged our way down the valley searching for game trails for another hour or so before calling it a day.  It was another 11 hour day of hiking and we were tired.  Our camp wasn’t ideal but we made it as homey as we could.  This would be what we would call our “Woods Camp.”