Mosquitos are always trying to get their picture taken in "pristine" ANWAR, July 23, 2004.
The first warning sign that this was a trip I should not take was item #5 on the packing list: mosquito head nets and jackets. WHAT??? Something I’ve never even heard of before, and if I need a jacket, not a good sign about the mosquito-human ratio. But the trip was a once-in-a-lifetime affair: seven days and six nights rafting, hiking and camping on the Canning River, above the Arctic Circle, in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.
I couldn’t back out now, especially with the chance to see thousands of wild reindeer caribou, eagles, musk oxen, and possibly….polar bears.
So I bought the headnets, waterproof socks and gloves, wind shells and plenty of DEET-based products, and flew north up to Fairbanks, Alaska, where I met up with my tour group to begin our adventure.
The next sign came about halfway through our “introduction dinner”, when I was informed that ALL of the toilet paper we bring IN to the refuge also has to come OUT of the refuge. Having hiked a variety of other ranges, I assumed that we would be burning our toilet paper and burying it. Not so. Due to the fragile ecosystem of the National Arctic Wildlife Refuge, we would, in fact, be bringing all of our toilet paper (both used and unused) back with us. Hmmm. I’m all for preserving nature, but can’t there be another way? Appealing to my dismayed face, one of the group leaders laughed and said, “But the swarms of mosquitoes make going to the bathroom pretty quick anyway, so you probably won’t be too worried about the toilet paper.”
Again, however, it was too late to cancel the trip, so I stuffed all of my gear, Ziploc bags, and toilet paper into my drybag and daypack silently vowing to do everything possible to minimize bathroom occurences during the voyage.
We left Fairbanks the following morning at the crack of dawn (literally) in order to make our first flight-a 10-seater that would carry us on a 90 minute flight up to Arctic Village, where we would be met by a smaller, 4 passenger bush plane to take us up to our drop-in point on the Canning River.
The first flight passed without incident (unless you count having to hold it for an hour) and as we landed at the Arctic Village landing strip, I could see a group of travelers parked on the runway, waiting for their flight. The first thing that struck me was that the tarmac was the only place to sit, if you wanted to avoid tundra, and then as the plane came to a stop, I noticed: they were all wearing their mosquito jackets.
As I bolted off the plane to do my business in the bush, the air felt fresh and cool against my skin, the sky a bright blue, the sun shining overhead. Beautiful, empty and still. A refreshing spot, until the bugs find you, which they did in about 2 minutes.
I began applying my Off! Skintastic SPF 30 Deet-infused mega-lotion on all exposed areas, which quickly quieted the beasts, but what I should have done is apply it to ALL areas, covered or not. It’s amazing how those blood-suckers can work their way right through a lightweight polyester or cotton fabric.
Arctic Village turned out to be a fairly large community of houses, tribal center, school, water treatment plant, which houses the public showers, and store. None of the houses have running water, so everyone goes to the community showers to bathe, and the water treatment facility for household purposes. Every house has it’s own outhouse, which are probably fine for most of the year, but in 80 degree July heat, did not look too comfortable.
Arctic Village is inhabited by the Gwich’in people, or Athabascan Indians, who have lived in the northeast region of Alaska and northwestern Canada for thousands of years. They, like so many other native peoples, face the ever-increasing challenge of carrying on their language, culture and traditions to younger generations. For better or worse, the future of the Gwich’in is intimately connected with that of the Porcupine Caribou Herd, as many of their traditions surround hunting, cooking, eating, and praying for the animal. The tribal leaders are against oil drilling in ANWAR as it will affect the migratory patterns of the caribou, however they are increasingly worried that they will not have a voice in the matter.
Leaving the controversy behind, we met up with Dirk, captain, pilot, co-pilot and CEO of Coyote Air, and airline, which, to my knowledge, has only one aircraft, a four-seater prop plane. As I learned the ropes of a baggage handler, my husband had an upper-body workout by hand-pumping gas into the plane. Coyote Air-it’s a Family Affair.
The 45 minute flight to the Canning River drop-in was spectacular, as we passed over the Brooks mountain range and were able to glimpse a variety of wildlife, glaciers and bright green tundra. Although the word tundra conjures up images of ice, it actually is green and living in the summertime, with brightly colored wildflowers and glacial streams running through it. At least on the surface-the ground is permanently frozen only a few inches below.
We landed on the rocky shoreline-no runways here, and unloaded all of our stuff. The guides had already prepared the rafts, so we were ready to load them up and hit the river.
The Canning is a fairly deep, very wide (in some parts), bright turquoise river. The water is so clear, that you can see straight to the bottom, even in strong current, to the boldly colored river rocks below.
We sat four to a raft, with our packs in the middle, and although we wore life vests, I was happy to discover that no helmets were needed for the gentle waters.
Rafting on the Canning was like a dream-we floated down the rapid current, in and out of the wind, occasionally paddling with intensity, but, for the most part, idling dipping our paddles in to maintain our position. The weather could not have been better. Known for rapid temperature changes and extreme conditions, every day averaged around 85 degrees during the day and in the 50’s and 60’s at night. Our head guide, Carol, couldn’t believe our good fortune, especially when we deemed the glacial waters ripe for swimming. Swimming holes and diverted pools in the river were excellent ways to cool off, but the most fun method (one which rivals water parks and had Carol shaking her head in disbelief) was donning a life jacket, swimming out to mid-river, and letting the current carry you for several hundred yards. The jacket was even better than an inner tube, and I tried it feet first, head first, on my stomach, on my back, until I became too tired to drag myself back up to the jump-in point. But having the cool waters rush around me, the bright sky overhead, and the vast landscape of tundra-covered hills before me was certainly a highlight of the trip.
Although we had hoped to see thousands of caribou, were worried about the large population of bears, and fascinated to see a musk ox up close, we saw not one single four legged animal (unless you count prairie squirrels) during our 7 day trek down the Canning. Everyone, including our guides, was mystified as to how this could be, but it was eventually attributed to the weather, which often reached the 90s. Many animals might have just hunkered down in their holes and caves in the cool tundra in an effort to ride out the heat wave. I had to agree with this theory, as I could barely walk a mile in the heat, let alone hundreds, as the animals do in their annual migration.
We did, however, see plenty of birds, including eagles and owls, which soared above us, and the river, in all their majesty. And the prairie squirrels, while not the most exotic animal, were adorable and amusing in their curiosity of all of our activities while at camp.
The only remotely challenging weather we had was one night of fierce wind, which forced us to pull off of the river and camp on a sandy embankment. We fortified our tent stakes with boulders, which was effective, unlike our efforts to keep sand, dust and dirt out of our tents-by the morning there was a fine layer of silt on everyone and everything-including inside my mouth. Grumpily I boycotted breakfast, only to step into some muddy quicksand that almost swallowed my shoes. I prayed for a shower, but made due with some handi-wipes.
The most peculiar thing about the journey, other than seeing no one and nothing for miles, was the constant sunlight 24 hours a day. Having traveled to Iceland one summer, I had experienced the phenomenon, but in a house or hotel, shutters close out the sunlight when it’s time to sleep. When you’re sleeping in a tent, however, the sun never goes away and it’s bright throughout the night. I brought a sleeping mask to help out, but I actually got used to the bright nights, and had no problems sleeping with the sun still above the horizon.
Going to the bathroom was a comical, much talked about affair as well, because above the arctic circle, there are no trees-the permafrost prevents them from growing. Soooooo, nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide. We just kind of had to hunker down and tell everyone to look the other way. Those who waited for nighttime to do their duties were rudely confronted with the sun offering them no cover, even at 3 am.
Despite the lack of animals, the rampant mosquitoes, and withering heat, the Arctic Trek experience was one of the most rewarding and enjoyable trips I have ever taken. This vacation really put the “away” in “getting away from it all”. As someone who is always worried about getting the right room, eating the best meal, seeing the most interesting sights, this was a trip where I was totally in the hands of nature (and my guides), and therefore, didn’t have to worry about a single thing.
The basics were known and uncomplicated: we carried our food and lodging on our rafts, and the rules, laid down by Carol at the start of the trip, were simple: adjust to arctic time. This pretty much meant doing what I wanted when I wanted. Nothing was done in haste-there was no where to get to and no one to hurry for. If the winds were bad at 2pm, we could rest onshore for the afternoon, and start rowing again around 10pm that night. If I wanted to sleep in and miss a meal-no problem, I just dug into a breakfast bar. If it was hot, I cooled off in the river. If I was hungry, I ate, and yes! If I had to go to the bathroom, I just went.
For a person who adores nice hotels and frequent showers, I was disappointed upon my return to society (in the guise of Fairbanks) and found that I didn’t feel like either. The hotel room seemed stale, plastic, manufactured and dull. And I didn’t want to rinse of the clean feeling of the mountain river with filtered city water. It was strange and I felt out of place. After all of the countries and places I have ever visited, this was the worst culture shock I have ever felt. I didn’t want to get dressed up for dinner, turn on the television, listen to the radio, sleep in a bed, stay in an air-conditioned hotel. I wanted to be back on the Canning River, with a cool breeze wafting through my tent, the sound of the rushing river below me, the sun gleaming off the rocks, and just sitting, thinking of and doing absolutely nothing.
THE DETAILS
I booked my trip through Arctic Treks, www.ArcticTreksadventures.com, and my trip was guided by Carol Kasza and Kurt Mueller. The other main outfit that organizes trips up in the Arctic is Alaska Discoveries, www.akdiscovery.com. Both of these outfits offer rafting, hiking and camping trips in the Brooks Range.
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