The Swift Cabin

Some time back, my former co-workers Dave and Ben Swift told me about a cabin that they had built with their father Paul Swift many years ago. The cabin was built in an area that I and been cutting firewood in and I knew the area some what. Located up a faint trail off of a four wheel drive road at mile 13 of the Haines Highway, it was built by hand utilizing logs and timbers of Spruce and Pine from the forest it is located in. Anything that the forest did not provide, had to be hauled in on foot up the 1500 foot climb up from river level through the steepening forest to the cabin site.

Angela and I had plans to go on a hike today, so we decided to drive up river for a hike across some Pine covered ledges overlooking the Chilkat River I had discovered and traversed a couple of weeks earlier. Upon arriving to the scene, we decided we wanted to do something different. I remembered the cabin Dave and Ben told me about, so another mile drive up river brought us to the four wheel drive logging road and the start of our forest walk.

Up the old road we go; some erosion and boulders had drifted into the roadway over the winter. Mental note: must remove boulders before firewood season this year in order to get the truck up here. Soon we come to the blotch of spray paint marking the trails entrance into the forest, and soon we are deep within it. The hike is ever slightly steepening for about 35-45 minutes and eventually one gains a flat shelf perched below the final steep section of the ridge. The cabin is located here and is in a nice location with obstructed views of the Chilkat below. A worthy hike indeed to a true blue Alaska wilderness cabin.

 

The 59th Parallel

As winter marches forward, I am finally beginning to have a little more time to shoot and edit video. The shots in the following film were taken entirely in the Haines area of Alaska, which is where I live. Ninety percent of the shots were taken with the Sony PXW-X70 with a handful of shots from my old Canon 60D DSLR since they were on hand for the content I needed. Plus maybe one shot from the Sony FS-700. The purpose of this short is both as an artistic expression, and to show the stock video clips I sell in action.

The 59th Parallel (2015)

The Need For Speed

Last week while my Mom was visiting Haines, we decided to head out to Chilkoot and check in on Speedy the Bear and her new cubs. Angela joined us and we were treated with a nice viewing of one of Haines’ most beloved and well known Bears. Last winter she birthed 2 new cubs and seeing them for the first time frolicking in the river and eating Salmon was really something to see. Here’s a short video of what we saw…

Alaska Short

Run For The Border

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)

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

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.

The Midnight Sun

Living at nearly 60 degrees north latitude is an interesting experience in regards to the seasonal changes and the Earth’s placement in the solar system as it rotates around the sun. Prudhoe Bay on the Alaska’s north slope is exasperated even more so, but even here in Haines, at a little over 59 degrees north latitude, one really notices a significant change in the length of the days starting in March; we now have nearly 14 hours of daylight, and the sun is gaining elevation in the sky daily. The midnight sun is approaching and soon the Bears will exit their den’s and the Salmon will begin to run. It is a glorious time of year in this neck of the woods…

Lynn Canal Near Haines Bright Spring Sun Reflection

59 Degrees North

Even before moving from Fairbanks to Haines last November, then as now, Google Earth has been a friend to me insofar as giving me an opportunity to seek out  many of Haines’ lesser known treasures. I remember the evenings in the cabin up on Himalaya Road, north of Fairbanks 30 miles or so, after my chores tending to the sled dogs were over for the day; I would skim the earth utilizing this amazing piece of technology to familiarize myself with the place I knew would become my home.

Last April, after the bulk of the winter’s snow had become a molecular part of the heavens’ above, I decided to drive out to explore an area I had “discovered” by means of the previously mentioned technology. But after getting out there, I became confused with what road was what, and not wanting to get tangled into someone’s property, I abandoned ship and opted for a hike across Mud Bay proper and over it’s adjoining ridge through the area’s old growth forests.

This morning looked reasonable, weather-wise, so I decided to let the Ogre out of the corral and saddle up. It was chilly out, but at least it wasn’t raining, and the cool wind felt downright invigorating. Spinning softly along the shores of the Chilkat inlet, I whizz past Letnikof Cove and the small harbor there, past the old cannery, through the Community of Mud Bay, past the road to Chilkat State Park, and on the the seemingly dead end of Mud Bay Road itself. This where I had been deterred before, but was determined to find what I was looking for.

The Chilkat Penninsula, at just over 59 degrees north latitude,  holds 2 or 3 tiny lakes on the flanks of it’s forested hills overlooking the Lynn Canal and it’s various arms. The most commonly known lake is Lilly Lake, which also serves as the drinking water supply for our little town. One other tiny lake, more remote than Lilly, called Rustabach Lake was what I wanted to see.

The Ogre seems to have a third eye for this sort of thing, so I shrug my shoulders and hang on for a steep climb up the narrow dirt track leading upward. Shifting into the wee tiny gears of the upper end finds us at a pull out about a mile up. I stop and can see that there is a well traveled trail leading from the pull out and decide that a short hike is in order. Not far into the old growth forest, the trail is smooth and I figure must lead to someone’s cabin. After a short bit, there is the Lake! Rustabach! It appears smaller than Lilly Lake and perhaps a shallow one at that, but it is a peaceful place surrounded by magnificent forest and some of the thickest, greenest moss forest carpet I have ever seen. I walk back to the bike and we continue on up the road and finally come to someone’s beautiful cabin homestead, complete with a big green peace symbol on it’s woodshed. Not wanting to disrupt, we turn around for a fast and fun blast down the road to the saltwater, where big views of Alaska’s great Coast Mountains and her mighty glaciers are visible. Also visible, is a storm quickly approaching from the open waters of Icy Strait, not far south. The peaks are quickly engulfed and the Ogre and I head back to from where we came…

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Rustabach Lake
RUSTABACH LAKE

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

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Chilkat Pass

A trip up to Chilkat Pass on a Saturday morning in early June gifts Angela and I the presence of mountains, tundra, animals, and smiles all around!Chilkat Pass_1 Chilkat Pass_2 Chilkat Pass_3 Chilkat Pass_4 Chilkat Pass_5 Chilkat Pass_6 Chilkat Pass_7 Chilkat Pass_8 Chilkat Pass_9 Chilkat Pass_11 Chilkat Pass_12 Chilkat Pass_13 Chilkat Pass_14 Chilkat Pass_15 Chilkat Pass

Seduction Point Saturday

A hike out the Seduction Point Trail on Saturday provides a relaxing atmosphere in which to take in the beauty of the Chilkat Mountains, glaciers, forest, ocean, and wildflowers; reminding us how glorious a place we live!

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Battery Point Cove Time Lapse

Paradise Cove

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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