Reflecting on the Actic #5

Floating the Canning River on the western boundary of the National Arctic Wildlife Refuge is, in itself, an adventure that goes through many twists and turns. About the only way to do it is with an inflatable boat of some kind. On our adventure we had a combination canoe and rubber raft. The deal is they have to be brought in by a small airplane that has limited storage space---in our case, four humans of various sizes and all our gear for about two weeks. We had to have extra food because not being able to be picked up on the exact hour is common, or exact day. Canoes hanging off the wings won't cut it.

What initially caught my attention was the level to which these crafts are packed, and I mean packed. The fact that we were hunting and fully intended on bring back lots of meat, hundreds of pounds of meat maybe, made it appear almost impossible to get it all in the two boats. But our guides, Ian and Tara, while younger than Craig (70) and I (65), turned out to be of sound mind and ample experience and unlike us, had it all figured out. The boats can haul about 1500lbs a piece or some outrageous amount. Everything, except us, had to be in water proof containers and strapped down with great care. It seems that in the Arctic, some hundreds of miles from civilized communities, makes for caution. They even made me wear a stupid personal floatation device that made me look like a not very macho retard. I am not sure appearances up there mattered unless, say, a bear were to choose the most idiotic looking. I stood tall and feigned importance.

The boat proved sea worthy and we headed to the north embracing the first class 5 rapids with gusto. Well, maybe class one but when an age factor of 4 and exaggeration factor of 2 are factored in, they were an easy 5. The attached photo (I wanted a video, maybe later) will attest to the action and also bring the scale into focus.

While there are many anecdotes to relate on the floating, I thought I might mention one of the more interesting, at least from the mighty struggle point of view. It seems at somewhere near the mid-point of the trip, the river becomes very braided into maybe 6 or so sprawling channels that might span almost a mile in breadth. It was my job as front navigator to follow the thickest of the channels trying to avoid skinny water. Skinny water meant we had to get out of the boat and drag the rig across gravel bars and the like. Now if it came to pass that we took a path that, in turn braided many times, we might find ourselves stranded in the great expanse. We would have to drag the outfit for miles. What if the braiding disappeared all together?

I was under great pressure as the other boat was following our lead. I had noticed that the Grizzlies had lined up along some of the smaller off channels waiting for us to make that one mistake, knowing we would be nothing more than bear chum out there in the open. I believe I had told Craig that if we were to be threatened, he being the oldest would have to go first as a way to distract the bruins. He could be sacrificed. Well, it turned out that I was able to guide us through the maze only having to trudge the craft a few times.

We prevailed and are better people for it---so it has been said. That which doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.