Tag: Chilkat

Run For The Border

Posted on by justrollingby

Anticipation of the upcoming Sockeye run has been getting me excited. The freezer, now devoid of last year’s catch and sitting unplugged awaits. Set netting these critters opened legally on June 1st and will close again on the 15th for six long weeks in order to protect the mishap harvesting of the rarer and rarer King Salmon.  Just because the season is open, does not mean neccesarilly that the fish are actually running. Truth be told, after spending a number of hours attending the net at various points along the mighty Chilkat, I have not brought home a single fish.

Today, I pack the truck with camera gear and fishing gear and head for the hills, as it were. I decide to drive up to 18 mile where the previous winter I had bushwhacked and post holed into the deepening forest to discover a Salmon stream where Bears had their way with many a Salmon, judging from the months’ old Chum carcasses Lying about. Today, I wanted to see if there were any signs of both Bear and Salmon in this very spot. Once again, I bushwhack into the now overgrown and spooky, and potentially Bear populated forest, bound for said creek. Soon I am billowing through five foot tall grasses and thickets, talking to myself and singing softly in hopes of deterring any Bear encounters. Soon I am at the splendid little creek, running clear and strong. No fish. No signs of Bear. I make my way back to the truck and head north.

This time, I aim to get to the braided confluence of the Klehini and Chilkat river’s where I had fished last year for Coho. At that time, I had seen the biggest Grizzly tracks of my life there and felt a presence of great and large beasts around me. Today, after sifting through the maze of dirt roads in the area, I come to the place where I take off on foot to inspect what the creatures are up to. As expected, I see large Brown (Griz) Bear prints. There are two sets, a mother and adolescent cub I believe. I bounce back to the truck and meander along a series of dirt roads not previously traveled by me, and soon the highway comes round again and it is decided to head up to Dalton Cache at the Canadian Border where there is a beautiful pond next to the Haines Highway and often portraying a pair of Swans I hope to shoot footage of.

Heading up the highway, I spy magnificent views of the peaks of the upper Chilkat and Boundary ranges. The Jarvis Glacier comes to view and I marvel at it’s presence. The clouds have parted just enough to cast an epic nature on the scene unfolding.

I feel blessed, and the underlying nature of these mountains and glaciers become me once again. Summer is unfolding and the Bear and the Salmon are just now emerging in an unstoppable and exponential fashion. It is a glorious time of year in Alaska…

Jarvis Glacier
The Jarvis Glacier at the U.S./Canadian Border

Glacier Point (Big Waves in a Little Boat)

Posted on by justrollingby

Fine spring weather and a weekend off urges me to pack up the skiff for a first -time-this-year-sailing. The 12 foot Lund has some leaky rivets, and the 39 year old Johnson 9.9 horse motor is about as decrepit as they come. Still, it was time to get out across the water and explore. I pack the boat and call Angela to roust her from whatever she was planning for the day, and soon we are humming along in dead calm ocean water; headed for the opposite side of the Chilkat Inlet to explore the Davidson Glacier and the areas around Glacier Point. We spot River Otters, Sea Lions, and Humpback Whales along the way. The weather is the sort you dream of in Haines: sunny and partly cloudy skies, warm temperatures, and not even a wisp of wind. Soon we are beached on the shores of Glacier Point, and before we can get camera gear into backpacks for a trek up to the glacier, we spot a Humpback whale surfacing and spouting it’s blow hole. Within seconds the creature is back in the depths and without notice, the Humpy has breached the water and is airborne. Our jaws drop, and we expect it to end there. Over the next 5 minutes or so, the Humpback breaches and spins and tail swats airborne style at least 10 more times, causing great and rewarding splashes. We are in awe of the spectacle we have just witnessed. I have never seen anything like it, not even close. I was so riveted by the performance, I refused to grab the camera for some action video. My dinky 105mm lens likely would have produced unsavory results anyhow. As it was, I’m certain I got much more out of the experience with out the camera in my hand. As much as I want so bad that great shot, I want the experience even more.

Soon we are trudging up the dirt access road to the Davidson Glacier where we marvel at the beauty of the magnificent and engaging ice, as well as admiring spectacular views of Mt Sinclair and Mt Elba and the bulk of the heavily glaciated Alaskan Coast Range visible north of Juneau. On the way back we find a flock of twenty strong Snow Geese nestled into the coastal grasses of the surf plane, catching up on some well earned rest.

That night, the wind picks up and we are thankful we had decided to pitch the tent after all. In the morning, we see the storm clouds a brewing and the wind picking up even further. A quick escape is in order, and soon the boat is packed and we struggle to get the tiny skiff past the swelling surf and into deeper water where we can fire her up. Soon the motor is running and we hightail it back up the inlet, punching the small vessel through the two to three foot swells. This feels like survival boating and Angela is wearing the only life preserver we have. For fear of capsizing the boat, I stay on the decaying throttle to keep the craft moving directy into the oncoming surf. I am white knuckled, cold, and concerned. After a bit, Letnikof Cove appears and soon we are pulling up to the boat ramp and loading the truck. The storm never actually took foot, but it sure made for some big waves in a little boat.

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The Chilkat Zoo

Posted on by justrollingby

Spring time in the Chilkat Valley is an impressive time. Seems the whole of the world is coming alive and staying busy with fattening up after a (not so) long winter. As I was pulling out of my driveway yesterday, a Sow Moose and her very large yearling were clambering down Cemetery Hill on Mud Bay Rd, headed right for my house. Animals, after a long absence, are emerging from the forest, and can be seen nearly anywhere If your eyes and heart are open to it.

After a six day work week, I am tired, but ready to get out into the real world of forest and river and animal; to have a peek and to get myself right with the world again. I head out around 9:30 Sunday morning and drive north up the Haines Highway. It is raining slightly, but it is not a bother to me. I want to head to a place at 25 mile I know of to look for and to shoot video of Moose. I drive slowly and in a manner of no hurry what so ever. Eyes peeled left, I see an animal on the shores of the only inches deep Chilkat. It appears at first to be a Lynx, but as it turns, I see that it is either a young and lone Wolf, or more than likely, a large Coyote. I pull off the road and the animal drops what it is eating and scrambles up the far embankment. Not wishing to disturb the creature’s fine and tasty meal, I too scramble back onto the road way and wish the Canine farewell. I get to the mudslide area at 19 mile and look out over the sandy river braids and spy two Eagles in a tree top. Between them is a nest the size of my pickup bed. They appear to be guarding it, and once again, I leave them in peace.

After a bit I am nearing the place I want to go, but realize after crossing the Chilkat bridge, there is far too much snow for my two wheel drive truck to handle on the dirt road leading back to the area in question. Reluctantly, I turn around and head back down valley, moving as slowly as before thinking the right place will pop up. At 18 mile, I turn into a pull out and descend into the bushes and thickets leading to the innards of the forest. Camera and tripod are heavy, but I figure it would be worth it to get a shot. Good and sellable clips are rarely placed in front of you, at least when it comes to animals, although I do know some folks with homes situated as to have their own private wild animal zoo in their backyards. I am happy to be thrashing into this forest however. Soon I am on a game trail and Moose dropping appear, though hard to say how old they are. I hear a creek ahead, and I stumble upon what is quite obviously a major Bear/Salmon area, The shores of the creek are heavily trampled, and lying about are many lower jaw bones of last years run. The area is so heavily used looking, I can imagine this place has been a Bear feeding ground for untold centuries. This place is a treasure, and I continue on, contemplating how dangerous it might be in a few short months when the fish are spawning again and the Brown Bears are out feasting. Back at the truck, I head down valley and spot, on the other side of the river, fifteen to twenty Canada Geese on a layover in a massive field. Further out, a moose is grazing peacefully. Having only my Xtra Tuff’s on, I swear to myself I will always carry my hip waders in the back of the truck. I drive through town and down the peninsula, where there are perhaps eight or nine Eagles feasting on the Sleeper Shark that washed ashore last week. On the drive home, I pull off to watch an Otter bobbing it’s head as it swims parallel to the shore in search of fish.

Sure is a spectacular time of year here in Haines…never got even one single shot. Didn’t matter.

11 exposure HDR of the peaks of the upper Chilkat River drainage, Alaska.

Posted on by justrollingby

Chilkat HDR-wm

Paradise Cove

Posted on by justrollingby

A full day off and fine weather to boot is a rare day indeed in these times of deep employment and mortgage. The venerable Surly Ogre and I decide, after a brief discussion, that a trip down peninsula to the enchanting Paradise Cove will do just fine. It is a road ride all the way, but the Ogre does not mind and says nothing about it. So off we go, down the hill to the Chilkat Estuary and a smooth, flat spin along the coastline; Eagles overhead screaming their mating call and sea Gulls drifting silently in search of a meal. We are a happy pair, the Ogre and I;  We pedal along the rocky shores of Letnikof Bay and past the old cannery to the brief hill that rounds the bend to the ultra hip “community” of Mud Bay. Weeks past, I had the pleasure of working out here on a set of “backcountry” stairs for my friend Jake. The location, an entirely awesome cabin parked atop the beach rocks directly across the inlet from the Rainbow Glacier, Chilkat Mountains, and Kochu Island. This area is true deep salt water and sports untold numbers of rich and broad marine life and mammals.

Today, I have brought the camera and mini tripod to shoot a time lapse of the unnamed peak I have a desire to climb someday. It is a majestic mountain above the Rainbow Glacier and offers a nice, moderate looking multi pitch alpine ice route up it’s north eastern face. The only trouble, is how to access it? The area below the Rainbow is definitely out: cliffs, several hundred feet tall and consisting of a chossy looking substance sitting quietly below a barrier above of gently perched seracs, waiting to fall and clobber the unaware.

Today, I was hoping for a few clouds to make the time lapse more interesting, but alas, it is a crystal clear day. The sun playing it’s rotation game of light will have to provide interest enough as it moves slowly across the sky and illuminating the upper icefalls of the Rainbow Glacier.

As the camera clickity clicks away, I have an hour to kill, so I set myself down, and with the always necessary binoculars in hand, begin to scope the water and shorelines for animals. I scan the far shore of the inlet for Bears and the eastern shore of Kochu Island for Sea Lions and such. At the northern tip of the island, a lone Bald Eagle is perched atop the furthest tree out, scanning the water and shoreline for tasty snacks. I return to scanning the water. Soon I spot several Harbor Seals frolicking together in a group. They disappear and then again return. Then a lone Seal pops it’s head just feet away from my perch to say hello. We stare and I talk, and then it is gone. Looking out across the sun glistened water, I spot dorsal fins. It is a school of porpoises moving past. Then far beyond, a larger fin appears, then dives. It resurfaces and then blows. I can see it is a large Orca and soon it too  disappears into the deep. More Eagles cry overhead and I realize once again just how much magic this place conjures. It is true paradise on earth.

On the ride home, I spot a roadie on his ultra light, ultra thin specimen of speed and agility, and with stylee super shades adorning his skull, he turns onto Mud Bay Road and I wave; he looks at me squarely and does not wave, but instead hits the pedals harder. Does he imagine that the dude on the heavy and slow Ogre with the loaded down panniers full of camera gear is not really a fellow cyclist? Perhaps his lycra is too tight and restricting blood flow to critical areas of the body. Or perhaps the high dollar Italian gadgetry bolted to his bicycle is too shiny and was perhaps blinded by their light and there for could not see me. Perhaps, he is simply an elitist bugger. The Ogre snickers, and Eagle screams, and my legs pedal on home.

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Low Tide on the Chilkat Estuary

Posted on by justrollingby

I stepped out of the house and walked down to the Chilkat beach at low tide this morning and took a few shots of the mighty Takhinsha peaks and glorious scenery. This is my Sunday church…

Beach Grass in Winter Beach Log Chilkat Low Tide Takhinsha Mountains

Reflections of Haines

Posted on by justrollingby

At 23 degrees farenheight, and winds at a steady 15 knots, the temperature at the vicinity of my roadside camp next to the Chilkoot Inlet is roughly 0. The seas are big this afternoon, with swells of around 5 feet, sending waves crashing into the granite boulders of the beach head surf. Every once in a while, a really big one will wreck into shore and a great splash of water explodes into the crisp winter air, highlighted by the dreamy peaks to the north. If a careful eye is surveyed across the channel, one may witness an Orca breaching or a Grey Whale spouting, ever reminding that this is there home too. The water here, always a vivid turquoise, commands respect. Even from the most seasoned vessel bound seafarer, as the water temperature, regardless of time of year, remains a nearconstant 45 degrees. In spring and fall, Brown Bears can often be seen scouring the western shorelines of the Chilkat Inlet or the mouth of the Chilkoot river. A mere 20 miles upstream from town, hundreds of Bald Eagles can be witnessed in the fall. Salmon runs are frequent here, with runs of all 5 species of the best food on the planet occuring at intervals spread throughout the non winter season. Winter here is 7 months and summer 3, with a month each for transitional periods in between. The climate is of the maritime variety with the ecology being regarded as that of a temperate rainforest. A short, steep, and beautiful hike up the Mt Riplinsky Trail exposes all. Giant Sitka Spruce and Western Hemlock grace the slopes and valleys, and a walk among them will reveal great ferns and seas of moss covering the forest floor. A scan of the peaks on the other side of the Inlet exposes glaciers and icefalls; the hallmark of high latitude coastal mountains. The people here are as friendly as anyone could ask for and a genuine sense of community prevails. A walk down Main Street will be greeted with smiles and greetings. In Haines, even the cops wave to say hello.

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The Panhandle

Posted on by justrollingby

That morning,  leaving Fairbanks, in the dark, I had to concentrate enormously on the snowy, icy road. Two weeks prior I had an apiphany: I had to leave and go to Haines to make a life for myself and Angela. My job here, caring for and training 30 dogs was a mixed bag for me. I loved the dogs and I loved the forest and Sven’s beautiful cabin, and the quite and the solitude. But it was a seven days a week gig with little pay, and it was not Haines, which is where I wanted to be. Leaving, unfortunately, has damaged my friendship with Sven, a man whom I respect a great deal. So on the road I am, once again. Excitment now fills my heart as I pull away from Fairbanks, headed south, bound for Alaska’s northern panhandle.

It is 22 degrees,  snowing lightly and the traffic thin. It is November 1st, 2013. I drive south, through Delta Junction, the scene of an earlier disaster back in June, whene I had lost an envelope containing my life savings; a sum of nearly 4000 dollars. I had a crazy idea or two that I might actually find the missing envelope in one of perhaps three places I could think of: A road side pullout, with views of the omnipotent Alaska Range, where a picture was taken on that day, a creek where a bath had been taken, a campspot in the woods near Tok, where I had spent two nights regrouping. Searching these places for my goods felt both empowering and futile at the same time. I was looking for a needle in the gigantic haystack of Alaska. I pull into Tok and proceed to walk to my usual camp there, located adjecent to the school in the woods near the edge of town. It is a nice spot and it feels somewhat like home to me. However, the envelope was not recovered, and on I went.

On the way from Delta to Tok, one becomes the Alaska Range. Mountains and streams appear, high counrty unfolds. It feels good to be in the highlands once again, and out of the beautiful but routine forest of the Fairbanks area. Being in the area of Tok, I am reminded how much I love this part of Alaska; it truly is one of my favorite places. The white spruce forests here are remarkable, the creeks and streams clear, the rivers deep, and the Alaska Range towering. It is a deeply beautiful and spiritual place to me. Earlier in the summer, I had stopped the bicycle to gaze upon a lone moose fiording the mighty Tanana River, keeping her head high and swimming madly. Southward I continue. Stopping for a walk along the icy banks of the Chisana River, I am gifted the sight of wolf tracks; mother and cub, traveling the river corridor, hunting and living the life they were born to live. The morning is crisp and cold and the Chisana is forming a skin of ice that looks as though could be walked upon but cannot. A breeze picks up a bit and it is getting colder still. I bushwack back to the truck and point it southeast, towards the Yukon border. After crossing, I see the sights of the mightiest Black Spruce Taiga forests I have ever seen. I remeber these from riding this part of the Alaska Highway back in 2011. Tha taiga goes on everlasting and my heart soars at it’s perseverance.

Eventually, I pull of the highway and drive up a small dirt road to a high point with a view. It is exactly what I had hoped for. From this vatage point, I can see all of the major peaks of the Icefield region of the Northern St Elias Range: Mt Luciana 17,147′, Mt Steele 16,644′ Mt Wood 17,000+, and several other unamed 15,000-16,000 footers. This section of mountains, the St Elias, and physically connected to the Wrangel Mountains in Southeast Alaska, is the largest chain of mountains in North America. The Alaska Range, though sporting the Queen Denali, and nearly 600 miles long, is still smaller than the Wrangel/St Elias. These Mountains are the real deal: Big, bad, remote and heavilly glaciated. In fact, the St Elias, the area surrounding Mt Logan in particular, contains the western hemispheres largest non polar glaciers.

I arrive, a bit later, at the hamlet of Haines Junction. With friendly folks, views of the tremendoulsy striking Kluane Range, and one of the best loved bakeries in North America, Haines Junction is a place I always look forward to visiting. However, upon entering town, I see first off that the great little grocey store there, the only one in town, has burned to the ground. Even worse, there is a “Closed” and “For Sale” sign on the bakery. Dissapointed, I buy 10 dollars worth of gas and head for glaciers of the Coast Range and the Chilkoot Valley, home of Haines, Alaska.

I cross the border, back into the USSR, and roll down valley, along the Chilkoot River, with forests of magnificent Sitka Spruce, Western Hemlock, Cedar and Cottonwood. I camp in a pullout, excited to see Haines in the daylight. Morning time, I pass through the Bald Eagle Preserve there, and see more Eagles within my field of view than I had ever seen in all the years of my life previously. 60? 70? 120? Who knows… There are many. It is the  last bit of the Chum Salmon run as well, and the Eagles are feeding well upon them. One brute of a fish, pink and black and bruised to hell, swims towards the shore and is nearly 4 feet long. I see no bears however; they have all crawled off to their winter nap and won’t be seen again till spring.

Haines is a great little town of about 2500 people, located along the inlets of the Chilkoot and the Chilkat, at the head of the Lynn Canal, North America’s longest Fiord. There are glaciers visible from town and is surrounded by the incredibly jagged peaks of the Chilkat Range to the east, and the Coast Range of the Glacier Bay region to the west. There are a ton of Brown (Grizzly) Bears here as well. It is truly one of the most beautiful places I have ever been.

The first week of being in Haines was rough on me, however. Cold nights, crammed into the back of my truck, looking for a job and a place to live, and not knowing anyone  in town, was challenging to say the least. Self doubt began to creep into my heart. Had I made the right choice to leave Fairbanks and come to Haines? Should I just go back to Utah, which I had left more than 30 months ago? Should I just stick it out?  A conversation with Angela on the telephone cheered me up and convinced me that I had made the correct decision. After a week or so, I had scored a free slide in camper for the truck, and a full time building job with some folks whom I enjoy being around. Each night I camp in a different, beautiful spot along the coastal waters of the inlets of the Lynn Canal, surrounded by the most beatuful mountains one can imagine, and dream of a long life here.

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