By Janelle Eklund

​We emerged from our tents at 7:30am and prepared for the last day on the river. The heavy clouds were spent and the day dawned with sun and high slender clouds. All the mountain peaks had taken most of the day off from cloud making. Light from the sun glistened off glacier pinnacles and iceberg sentinels. We froze them in time with our cameras – treasures to share and store in our memory bank as time marches on. Driftwood lay on the beach, white skeletons bleached and stripped of their skin by relentless forces of water, wind, ice and sun. Roots creating geometric shapes, beauty in death as in life. They made an elegant frame for mountains, glaciers, icebergs, and lake.
 
As we rowed across the lake dodging icebergs, this majestic river gave us its grand finale. The last sets of rapids with their big holes only captured a portion of the river and allowed us to float by in safety, enjoying its last bit of fury. The mountains along this stretch of river were green covered spilling dramatic long waterfalls.
 
Signs of man’s technology reminded us that we were returning to a different world. A world not as sacred as where we had just spent the last ten days.  Four wheelers and motor boats used for ease of access came into view. Although our experience wasn’t totally devoid of these technological toys and modes of transportation. The roar of commercial jets could be heard now and then as they flew, high overhead, small planes ferrying rafters like us, and a rescue helicopter all made their appearance on the lower stretch of the river. I wonder how it is that man has made such advances in technology over such a short period of time. Technology we have become so dependent on and seemingly can’t live without. Visiting such a sacred place as the Tatshenshini/Alsek reduces a human to their lowest terms. With all our gadgets and controls, Mother Nature still rules. We owe our earth the greatest respect.
 
We ate our last Tatshenshini lunch on a sand bar in the warmth of the sun, leaving cool glacial breath behind. Scouting the channel leading to the take-out point was a must to be sure there was enough water without getting stuck. The way was clear and we rowed the last bit to the landing strip without incident. A group picture was first on the list, then unloading gear and setting up camp. The Park Ranger took our permit and then the more unpleasant job of toilet dump duty was assigned to yours truly and one other person. Our River Bank toilet system worked well – a necessity for leaving no trace. Not the best job right before dinner but we got it done.
 
Ocean clouds swept in and out blessing us with wind and rain off and on through the night. Late the next morning two planes arrived to take us to Haines and our vehicles. A lot of power lifted us into the air. We climbed about 3,000’ and flew along the coastline since the mountains were having a cloud making day. The view of the coastline was spectacular. Long and flat – wave after wave pounding the shore. The peak of Mt. Fairweather shown clear, surrounded by thick layers of clouds – an island in the sky. Glaciers marched to the sea exposing massive lines of time. They each had their own personalities. One, a frozen rivery waterfall, hanging straight down from the mountains grip. Two bears were making dinner of a dead whale on the beach. As we flew over the sound live whales surfaced and spouted great columns of water. With a head wind it took almost two hours to arrive in Haines.
 
Throughout the long drive home to the Copper Basin and Anchorage we reflected on a journey that gave us unsurpassed beauty, ancient moving forces, and the camaraderie of friends to share this place in time.
 
THE END of this journey. We seek not the end of the journey but the gifts it gives us in each moment along the way. And then to take those gifts and weave them into our life.
 
From my light to yours-

By Janelle Eklund

​We left Walker Glacier at 10:15am. Clouds came in and there was light rain off and on most of the day. The river carried us fast passing glacier after glacier, each hanging between tall mountain peaks. It looked like glacier alley, one spreading out over a wide low valley. We went through another run of rapids with the skills of the oarsman keeping water from entering the raft. The river widened into a broad valley.
 
We stopped on a gravel bar for lunch.  A delicious pasta salad that was made the night before helped warm us up including our cold feet. The sprinkle of rain stopped and the warmth of the sun peeking through clouds helped add to our comfort.
 
Our destination at Alsek Lake wasn't too far ahead. We stopped to climb a hill to observe our route around Gateway Knob into Alsek Lake. The top of the hill afforded us a spectacular view. Giant deep blue icebergs filled the lake in all kinds of shapes. There are three routes into the lake called the Channel of Death because of the icebergs. Channel one was the only door open, with the water too low in the other two. The current helped carry us into the lake. With a backdrop of three glaciers, the scene was mesmerizing as we rowed between icebergs sculpted by eons of time.
 
By the time we stopped to camp the rain came back, forcing us to put up tents in the wet. It is obvious we are close to the Bay. The ceiling is low and socked in. We had a fine meal of pesto shrimp fettuccini for dinner under the protection of the tarp.
 
The glaciers boomed in the distance dropping huge chunks of ice. So far away, yet its impact sent a small wave rolling by our rafts. Rolling hills across from camp were dressed in heavy mist until the air became so thick they disappeared.
 
The next day was a layover day on Alsek Lake. Rain showers and sun played a dancing game with each other all day. We took a walk around the rocky shoreline at the base of Gateway knob listening to the glaciers heartbeat as they roared in the distance. As if shedding skin, one glacier would drop a load and another would resound the rhythm, a ritual in response to summer heat. Their screams reached our ears well after their shedding was laid to rest. Massive land oceans, these glaciers and mountains hold megatons of water and moisture. Their perspiration gives birth to thick dark clouds that shed their fury continuing their cycle. A giant iceberg rolled in its death march to the river. Clouds born from the ocean moved with great speed to clash with those born of mountains. Waves of changing weather rolled around us. Wind, rain, sun kept us busy changing our attire to suit the conditions. A couple of us tried to walk around the other side of Gateway Knob but were stopped in our tracks by a cliff wall with a watery base, forcing us to turn around.
 
We took this surrounding blanket of dynamic beauty, wrapped it around us, and retreated to our tents.
 
To be continued
 
From my light to yours-

By Janelle Eklund

​A layover day at Walker Glacier gave us the opportunity to explore the spectacular ecosystem. It was nice to have a leisurely morning with a late breakfast absorbing the peace and relaxation.
 
Some of us followed a trail that led us through alders and intermittent open areas splashed with glacial remnants in the form of light grey gravel. Other vegetation creeped into these areas in the form of pink pyrola, single sided pyrola, northern oxytrope, wormwood and a willow I couldn't ID from the plant book I carried - so I drew it.
 
On the glacier we walked on a surreal world. In the unseen depths, as we crossed narrow crevasses, the thunder of a river let itself be known. The suns paintbrush melted surface ice carving an icy blue stream that flowed into the bowels of the glacier. Dotting the glacial tongue blue worm holes filled with icy water carved different shapes - some short and some with no end. We searched for ice worms but they were illusive.
 
We had a picnic on the glacier, protecting our behinds from the cold of the glacier by sitting on our wool gloves while we ate. Even though it was a beautiful sunny day we protected ourselves from the chill of the glacial ice and breath with wind breakers, wool hats, and gloves.
 
After exploring the glacier we relaxed around camp the rest of the day. An old patch on one of the rafts had herniated so we decided two layover days at Walker Glacier would give the second repair adequate time to dry.  Being a day ahead of schedule also helped so we didn't feel rushed.
 
The second day we entertained ourselves by sitting by the lake created by melting glacier ice and watched rocks fall off the moraine into the water. Huge bear tracks and old scat confirmed bear had passed by.
 
We filled our sun shower with crystal clear glacier pond water and lay it on warm rocks where the sun and rock acted as a hot water heater. Once warmed we lay a dry bag on the gravel, hung the shower from a tree limb and proceeded to wash the river grime from our bodies. Once refreshed we lizarded (laid in the sun), took naps and wrote in our journals. Puffy clouds moved by blocking the sun now and then forcing us to cover, shed, cover, shed as they played with each other. The evening sun hid behind a mountain to the southwest shining its last light on the mountains to the east, bathing them in a pink hue.
 
To be continued
 
From my light to yours-

By Janelle Eklund

​Rescue operations for securing our raft from the grip of the root wad and river changed in an instant. The river flipped the whole raft upside down, carried it around the tree limbs and on down the river. The crew from one of the other rafts acted instantly, jumped in their raft, and gave chase for ours. Diane and I decided it was time to leave the safety of the root wad and get to shore to follow suit with the crew of the cataraft. We walked to the end of the tree to cross the shallow channel to shore. The bottom of the river was hidden in the heavy glacial silt. Knee boots worked well for 6'2" Paul when he crossed but would it work on a 5'1" frame? There was no choice so I proceeded and was delighted upon reaching shore without getting wet. There were six of us now on the cataraft.
 
The river took mercy on us and slightly lodged our overturned raft in shallow water about a quarter mile down river. The raft that was in hot pursuit got there in good time. One person jumped out of the raft, sacrificing his feet to wetness, grabbed the overturned raft, and strained to keep the river from lifting it off the bottom of the shallows and carrying it further downriver. In a very short amount of time we were all there to secure the raft, attach a flip line and turn the raft right side up. It took five of us to flip it over with all the gear still under the gear net. Rower, Diane, was in tears about her tactical error. We consoled her and told her we were just glad we were all OK. 
 
The next step was to stop and camp for the night and dry out all the gear that got wet from lightly closed dry bags. I had become too lax in closing my bag all the way. For one thing it was a little too full and another - I thought nothing like this would ever happen! So much for thinking. Lesson learned.
 
We found a gravel plain a few miles downstream. To get to it we had to line the rafts around a little island and across a shallow bar. Our raft was first and Diane and I unloaded while the other rafts were lined around. I wrung all my clothes and sleeping bag and draped them over accommodating bushes letting the sun be the dryer. Book and first aid kit were also laid out. The rest of the day was spent turning everything on the dryer. The wind cooperated with the sun so it was not too unlike a real dryer. By the end of the day things were mostly dry. A lot of stuff in our cooler was water logged and ruined. The dry bag with breakfast food, TP and paper towels also succumbed to water. We meticulously unrolled the paper towels and laid them out on the gravel to dry, weighted down with rocks. The TP was a lost cause - a big disaster! Dried paper towels would become TP. That night I wore my long johns and socks in my damp sleeping bag and was snug as a bug in a rug.
 
Before retiring we took a short walk up the drainage behind camp,  greeted the plants and drank in the beauty of high mountain peaks - hopefully planting the mind with sweet dreams.
 
To be continued
From my light to yours-

By Janelle Eklund

​This day after the encounter with the root wad challenged us once again, but lucky for us, it was not our raft this time. At a bend in the river the water rushed against a high vertical wall of rock decorated with a tree snag that jutted out into the river. This surprise made for an unavoidable encounter of the cataraft with the other raft.  Too close to avoid each other they collided right at the snag, breaking an oar and wrenching the shoulder of the oarsman. Everyone managed to stop at a gravel bar a short way down river. The oarsman seemed OK, oar repairs were made, and we were on our way. Another potential disaster avoided.
 
Our destination was Melt Creek, just above where the Alsek River meets the Tatshenshini. On river left the landscape became a parade of white mountain peaks. Tongues of jagged glaciers carved their way between each mountain. On river right luscious green slopes were dotted with bright pink fireweed. Ahead, on a gravel bar, a grizzly bear reared up on its hind legs startled at these strange out-of-place aliens floating down the river. We must have looked pretty scary. He plunged into the river and headed for the bank. The next thing we saw was lots of moving brush - and it wasn't wind. We never saw the bear again and he was probably glad not to see us again.
 
As we got close to Melt Creek the river started braiding and fanning out, making for a very confusing situation. We didn't see the cairn that marked the campsite for Melt Creek and before we knew it we were at the Alsek, where we were able to stop and discuss what to do. The only course was to move on to Walker Glacier, as there were no campsites between the Alsek and Walker. Since the river was moving pretty fast we figured it wouldn't take long to get there. When we came down what is known as the 'Wind Tunnel' we were pleasantly surprised that the wind wasn't so bad. It could have been a lot worse.
 
Glaciers melted their force creating raging streams that rushed into the main river. Bald eagles waited for the salmon run. Rounding the bend at the end of the 'Wind Tunnel' Walker Glacier finally came into view. Through binoculars we could see our friends camped there. Here the river is at least a mile wide and it was a challenge getting through shallow areas to our destination. This one we definitely didn't want to miss. Our friends were there to help us dock.
 
Three hours from the Alsek and 44 miles from our morning launch, at 8:00pm we finally arrived, bone tired and chilled from glacial wind and water. Too exhausted to cook, our dinner consisted of salad, cheese, crackers and snacks.
 
Our tales of the root wad were conveyed to our friends and negotiations began for trading Oreo cookies for TP. It was a hard bargain on how many Oreos we had to sacrifice. This, after my failed attempt to sell the paper towels (I meticulously dried for TP) for $1 apiece. Guess my price was worse than sacrificing Oreos.
 
We are held in the arms of mountains and glaciers, with one like a wave on the ocean shore, frozen in time.
 
We will sleep good tonight snuggled in our bags with bed time stories of glacial creaks and groans and the lull of the river.
 
To be continued
 
From my light to yours-

By Janelle Eklund

​When we stepped into our rafts in the mid morning sun it just seemed like it would be another great day on the river. Little did we know the harrowing adventure that lay ahead.
 
The warmth of the shore didn't extend itself to the river. Glacial water and glacial winds air conditioned river currents. We put on thick layers of clothes covered by wind stopping rain gear that also would protect us from any active waves wanting to leap into the raft.
 
Diane, who was from the lower 48, was in our raft. She assured us she had floated many a river - in the lower 48 - and knew how to handle the oars. So Paul put her in the driver's seat, not stopping to think that lower 48 rivers are not like far north braided rivers where reading the river is a skill unto its self. Her technique for avoiding obstacles was to use a ferry angle downstream and let the river do the work. After successfully riding through some rapids the glacial river braided out, with many channels to choose from. The shallow channels caught Diane by surprise. We were on them before we knew it and the river wouldn't stop to accommodate a correction - funny thing about that. A root wad of a tree lodged in the shallow water lay before us. She couldn't decide whether to go right or left. While she hesitated the river made a decision for her, and it wasn't a good one. As if by slow motion it swung us head-on into the root wad. There was no way of avoiding it, it all happened so fast. The force of the water pushed the left side of the raft up onto the top of the root wad. Despite our quick actions to immediately high side, the river swallowed the right side of the raft. It was at that moment we decided it was time to climb out of the raft and onto the root wad. The root wad was very accommodating and welcomed all three of us. The raft was hanging onto the root wad for dear life. We tried pushing down the raft but the force of it all was stronger than we were.
 
The raft that was upstream of us saw our predicament and managed to stay in the outside channel and stop at the end of our tree. The cataraft in our fleet stopped on the upper part of the gravel bar across the channel that separated us from shore. The river was trying its darndest to grab our whole raft, bobbing it up and down to loosen it from the root wad. Tree limbs, hanging out in the main current, danced around the front of it. Paul walked to the end of the tree downstream and crossed the shallow channel to shore where the cataraft crew were thinking about rescue operations. The bank afforded no trees or anything to tie off to start a rescue.
 
Poor Diane was beside herself. All she could think of and attempt to do was to get the raft off the root wad. I kept telling her to stay off the raft, that it was too dangerous. Two of the crew tied a throw bag rope on the back and tried to pull but the river was relentless. Another thought was to find a saw and cut the branches, hoping to free the raft. While all these ideas were being formulated the river continued to play havoc with the raft. My dry bag was bobbing around in the swamped raft with my wallet, camera and radio. I decided it would be a good idea to grab it if it was to survive. Other unsecured items started popping up from under the gear net. Some of us had become too laxidazical about making sure everything was securely tied in. Things started floating down the river, bail buckets, water bottle, dry bag, cup. Shortly after grabbing my dry bag the river had its day with the raft.
 
To be continued
 
From my light to yours-

By Janelle Eklund

​Sediment Creek runs between two mountains and out onto a gravelly plain. Just before it empties into the Tatshenshini (Tat for short) it braids into several small channels. To the south the Tat wound through a wide valley lined with mountain peaks on both sides. To the north the scene is similar with a sweeping valley spilling out of the northeast.
 
A black bear munched on high bush cranberries on the edge of the gravel plain close to camp. We observed from a distance through binoculars and cameras. A trail takes off from the plain about 700 yards up the creek. It meanders through a cottonwood forest for a short way and then climbs the hill to open alpine tundra. Four of us headed out to explore the treasures of the trail. Before entering the forest we saw a sow and two cub black bears near the trail on the tundra above us. All the while we yelled - 'hey bear, ho bear, eehaa!' Later the others at camp said they saw a sow with two cubs and several other bears along the creek bed. The sow sent the cubs scampering up a tree and then stood on her hind legs to get a better look at the campers. Maybe it was the same bears we saw.
 
We followed the trail up to the first lookout point where we sat and ate lunch enjoying the view. Transparent wedding veils of clouds moved along the mountain peaks, some of them releasing their moisture. At times the veil wrapped us in its shroud. We resumed our bear chant  wading through thick wet alders and willows overgrowing the distinct worn trail. Raingear kept us from getting totally drenched from rain but not from sweat. Between the thickets grew small colorful meadow pockets of grasses and wildflowers - some as high as my waist. Geranium, monksood, false hellebore, lupine - the tallest lupine I've ever seen! The higher we climbed the more varieties we encountered - columbine, forget-me-nots, delphinium. And then as we reached the tundra above tree line, cassiopeia and moss campion. About three quarters of the way up we crossed a small scree slope that led to a alcove of rocks exposing naked time lines like those we saw in the river chutes - black, grey, orange. Plant life clung to the base of rock using its heat and energy for its own growth. As we wound our way up we reached the snow fields we could see from camp. The first one was short and we crossed it digging our heels in. We cautiously proceeded on the second steeper snow field. We kept in contact with our companions back at camp to reassure them we had no bear encounters. Rain was falling on camp and they cautioned us to return, thinking the weather was getting worse. But we had a ring side panoramic view and we could see the weather wasn't so bad. At times the sun gave us brief kisses. And after coming so far we were determined to reach the top.
 
The last section of trail was the steepest with nary a switchback. What we thought was the rim turned into a sweeping plain of tundra dotted with patches of snow. Snow covered mountain peaks began to rise above the tundra. At 5:00pm, after four hours of trekking, we were satisfied we had reached the top. Turning around to begin our descent we were pleasantly surprised to be given a rainbow show. The sun was reflecting off a distant cloud curtain shedding its misty coat. We were careful to make our way down the steep slippery trail. Tired of our monotonous bear chant we started singing bear songs and playing the alphabet game, which we would later perform for the group back at camp. With gravity in our favor it took only two hours to return to camp. Hamburgers and home fries tasted good after our work out with the massive hill. The night sky of parting clouds and rays of sun gave hope for a clear day to come. Tiny white dots of sheep precariously skirted rocky cliffs above the creek bed.
 
To be continued
 
From my light to yours-

By Janelle Eklund

​Nine of us joined together to float the Tatshenshini River on July 20, 2000, starting in Canada and ending in Alaska. Traveling through the Yukon Territory of Canada we took the Haines Jct. hwy to the put-in point, arriving the night before launching. The next day, while rafts were being blown up and geared, three in the group shuttled the van to Haines where we would get dropped off by plane ten days later.
 
We launched shortly after 3:00pm. Clouds bearing the weight of showers dumped on us off and on all day. It kept us busy changing in and out of rain gear umpteen times. The first upper stretch of the river reminded me of the Gulkana River back in the Copper Basin. But not for long. The landscape changed funneling the river into a canyon. A roller coaster white water ride kept the rowers on their toes without a break for five miles. We had the where with all to scout the canyon first and donned our dry suits before entering the chasm. The only body part that got a little wet was our heads.
 
We bobbed along passing spruce forests sweeping from river bed to metamorphic rock formed hills. The river cut through narrow chutes where faults were colored in  lines of black, grey, and orange. Each told a hidden story of ancient times. Bald eagles swept down cliffs on the wings of wind. The slower stretches let us observe the sites along rivers journey.
 
We camped at Silver Creek where the mosquitoes made us wear our head nets. At that point the rain was only spitting which made it nice for setting up the tents.
 
7-21-00
 
The river was calmer today with a few rapids which gave the float some diversity. Our destination was Sediment Creek and by our calculation not too far down the river. Friends of ours had launched ahead of our group and we planned to camp with them. Our thoughts were centered on a short day. Wrong. What we thought was Sediment Creek didn't look quite right, and our friends weren't there but we tried to find a place to camp anyway. There were some nice places but the lack of eddies and slower water prevented us from stopping. After bumbling along and trying to stop we decided that wasn't Sediment Creek at all. The next drainage turned out to be the right one. Our friends and their cataraft were a welcome sight. A calm side channel allowed us to row above their camp. A high steep bank was the only way to the campsite. For unloading gear we made a human chain which worked well. Everyone automatically picked a chore and went about setting up camp.
 
Rafting affords the luxury of bringing things like a 25lb fire pan with a grill, and food items like a whole chicken. For dinner the chicken went in a pot of boiling water to get it partially cooked before barbecuing it on the fire pan grill. A delicious and fulfilling dinner came with shared stories of an exhausting day on the dynamic river.
 
To be continued
 
From my light to yours-