The Black Von Scrolls

Now where was I?

Yes… the rain kept at it all night. In the morning, Emelie, Felix and I met around the kitchen stove for some pancakes. We dipped them into jam and chocolate. Felix and I were feeling lazy, and had slept in until something like 9 or 10 (in camping land, that’s an extreme lie in). All of us agreed we had a perfect night’s rest.

“Now,” Emelie pipes up “do we pack up and paddle a bit more and find a new camp spot, or do we stay here and go for a hike?” Felix and I mulled this one over, and then it started to rain again. No one wanted to pack up in the rain. “Let’s go take a nap and then go for a hike.” Awesome plan.

Felix and I burrowed in our sleeping bags and I wrote in my journal while he took another snooze. He got up and decided to take the fishing poles out with Emelie. I stayed behind. They stood on the point looking out to Sugarloaf Mountain and threw lines into the river. About an hour later, I hear “Get up! Come out here now!” I put on my boots and run out, “I caught it!” said a happy Felix the Cat. After giving him a congratulatory kiss, I thought to myself, “Excellent. We’re now averaging $60 a fish, per the cost of each license.”

We hid the dead fish in a Ziplock bag in the river. We then packed our day pack with provisions and set out to climb our local mountain. Emelie pushed through the woods as we navigated up. She was in the habit of calling out, “Hey Bear!” every 15 minutes, and if she wasn’t doing it, I was for sure.

Once we got to the first elevation, we noticed a band of rafters winding through the river, passing by our camp. After 2 days, a sign of human life. I almost ran back down the hill shouting, “Wait for me!!”, but stayed with my people. We walked further up and made it to the top of the ridge, sat down and ate lunch. The drizzle set in and we made peace with the wet.

On the way back, Emelie actually did find some bear scat, some real evidence of bear life. Was it at our camp site going through the kitchen? Was it behind a tree spying on us? Erg, a bear.

We collected more fire wood on the way down and made it back to camp in good time. Felix and I decide to pull out the fishing poles and give it another go. It was there I started to understand the monotonous back and forth with fishing. Throw the line. Reel it in. Yeah; repeat, repeat, repeat. We were getting really bored, and then out of nowhere a seagull swoops in about 30 feet in front of us and dives into the water. He bites down on a rather large fish and wrestles with it. The fish jumps back into the water. Felix and I both go limp while witnessing this terrible act of showmanship. The bird, determined to eat, shoots back down immediately and clamps down on the fish tight. He points it up to the sky, and guzzles about a 12” Grayling straight down his gullet. What an asshole.

We hear Emelie in the distance wooting, clapping her hands and howling with laughter. She had been watching us fail time after time for a solid hour or more, while in two seconds, this crafty bird schooled us on how it’s done. Felix and I were clearly idiots; 1 for nature, 0 for New Yorkers.

After beating a dead horse, I pulled out my insect net to cover my face and proceeded to draw Sugarloaf Mountain back at camp. It was such a luxury to rarely worry about light, there was plenty of it. I love the daylight and although would label myself a night owl back in New York, 20 hours of light was extremely soothing and I relished in it.

Emelie & Felix set up the kitchen and got to work. We ate Felix’s fish as an appetizer, and for dinner Emelie prepared Fettucine Alfredo. I’ve never been a fan of Alfredo sauce at the best of times, and although her’s tasted a bit so-so, she killed it with desert; brownies. She baked them in a bundt pan on the stove covered with a pie pan exposing 4 holes, and voila! Make shift oven. I was fascinated at this whole 2 burners as complete-kitchen method. In the end, the Grayling off the fire tasted fantastic, while Emelie skipped it saying, “No, er, go ahead. I can get that anytime.” (code for: you’re eating the bottom feeder fish of Alaska).

Day 4:

Because we had hung back a day, our wake up call was 6:30 so we could pack up and be on the river no later than 9:00. We quickly dressed and folded up our thermarests, sleeping bags and packed anything else in the tent.

Coffee was thick and full of grinds. So tasty and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. We ate oatmeal and dried fruit. Felix went back to dismantle our tent and I trekked off with my full “cat hole” kit.

This process, under the pressure of people waiting for you, is never easy going. There are many details which I will not go into, but safe to say the ritual takes at least 20 minutes. There’s a tiny shovel, lighter fluid, a lighter and toilet paper. The idea is to make sure you leave no trail. In the wet forest, this is a challenge, and for me, came with great turmoil and frustration. Plus the insects, which complicates matters more.

Back at camp, all is wet. It continues to rain. Felix and I pack our wet gear into our dry bags and push off at 8:50. I was quite chuffed by our timing, especially because I had to make two bathroom trips during the morning, which, like I said, totaled a good 40 minutes.

Felix and I are still somewhat sore from 2 days earlier, but eager to be out on the water. Emelie too. Felix followed Emelie’s command and was close behind in the kayak. We were back at it, navigating the braids and moving swiftly down stream.

We watched the color of the water begin to change from gray-blue to white-aqua. We had paddled by a beautiful glacier and the landscape started to dramatically shift. There were moments of viewing various birds and many, many beavers. Those little hoodlums were doing their utmost to redirect all paths, damming up the natural routes down stream. But alas, they are part of the whole nature-thing I suppose, so I gave them a pass and accepted them as part of the great Alaskan wilderness.

We paddle hard and work with the river, moving fast. Emelie realizes we are making extremely good time, and at noon we pull over for lunch. At this point we’re on sandy, baron land with prickly green plants near by. It’s cold and windy, we eat a modest lunch and try to stay warm.

Emelie points out we’re almost back to our car, which for Felix and I became a sudden disappointment. What? The adventure is over?

However, the rapids start to kick up and the water is moving a bit fast. We’re in quite shallow water, but it’s in sloppy sand and the undertow is quick. Finally we see our car and Emelie signals to navigate to the right. I get us to a tiny island and jump out to hold the boat. I quickly start to sink straight down, my boots getting caught in the muddy silt. I freak and Emelie helps me out. We work hard to get the canoe over near our car, and Felix also tries to pull over. The water is rushing fast and he is nervous. He sticks one leg out of the kayak to the shore, but instead tips the boat and himself straight into the river. Waist down, Felix is wet.

We jump out of our boat and help Felix. He laughs and laughs. Only 5 minutes left of our big adventure does he throw himself overboard.

Packing up is sad, and suddenly I don’t want this to end. What will become of Emelie? We just met, don’t go! Although we had to drive her back down to the truck and then back up to this spot again (a good 2 hours), we were all quiet in the car. My head hurt and I didn’t want to leave the river, a place I was just getting use to.

We managed to get Emelie back to her truck and all packed up. Our plan was to head to a lodge only about 20 minutes north, and take a shower and sleep. All the various soaps, creams and antiseptic toiletries I’d packed were ignored on our river journey. We roughed it and were dirty from head to toe. Shower, why? After saying our goodbyes to Emelie and heading off to the Lodge at Black Rapids, Felix and I were deflated and looking forward to a glass of wine and a long sleep. We got that and more, a most comfortable and lovely place to end our canoe trip.

And after speaking with Mike, owner of the lodge, we found out that bears around the Alaskan Range are rarely seen. They are very acute of hunting season, and unlike the protected areas of national parks like Denali, keep an extremely low profile. Yeah that bear spray was all well and good, but the probability of us intersecting with one of those giant furry creatures was very low indeed. My neurosis was mostly made of fiction, and it wasn’t until 10 days later in Whistler did I see a black bear on the side of the highway while driving back to Vancouver from a family wedding. At that point my empathy for those lovely wild animals was huge. Although I would prefer not meeting one in person, the fact they roam the earth, battle humans and nature while exist as this planet warms and changes, is simply gorgeous and epic. Here’s to the bears. And here’s to me for making my way back to civilization, with all four limbs intact.