Hard Work Along the Alsek River

So the summer has passed. Once again, I'm back in Vancouver watching the maples turn yellow and dropping their leaves. Autumn has arrived. Strange, for I've felt like I've been in fall for quite some time. I guess that's part and parcel of working in the Yukon for all of August. Actually, the way things were, my last month in Kluane National Park has felt closer to winter than anything. Long underwear and toque weather most of the time. But I guess that's to be expected when you are floating by icebergs.

I had the great fortune of taking up where I left off last summer, doing research in Kluane National Park. This time around, I was looking at the condition of campsites along one of Canada's most pristine and reputable rivers for whitewater rafting, the Alsek River. My work is intended to help ensure that this place continues to maintain this spectacular wilderness character. Set amidst the most massive mountains and most extensive glacier fields found in Canada, this proved to be the best office one could ask for. More than makes up for the weeks I'll have to spend sifting through the data and writing tedious reports.

Certainly, this trip was a learning experience. First lesson: you can fit a lot of shit into a raft. I have always considered car camping to be the ultimate in travel. But this honestly puts every car trip I have taken to shame. My little Civic hatchback can't hold half the crap that a raft can. With full folding tables, stoves, dutch-ovens, several immense coolers, enormous tarps, a large fire-pan, portable toilet and enough comfy lawn chairs for everyone, I felt like I was camping Liberace-style.

Second lesson: unlike any other mode of non-motorized travel I know... hiking, biking, climbing, kayaking... rafting will make you fat. In fact, I think even I got a little thicker around the middle. This could be attributed to the fact that the majority of the time, the river does all the work for you. Unless you happen to be the one on the oars, you are no more than luggage. Or it could be attributed to the massive amounts of food that we toted along the way. I have never eaten so well in the backcountry in my life. Morrocan Chicken, BBQ Jerk Pork Skewers, Beef and Mushroom Stroganoff. Oh, then followed by Apple Chocolate Phyllo Bake, Blueberry Apple Crisp, Brownies. A bit ridiculous almost. But I'm sure all this food isn't what made me continuously blow the snap on my pants. No, I think the culprit was the contents of our aptly-titled Boxes of Fun. I haven't consumed that much beer since my graduating summer after highschool. We also had plenty of non-beer alternatives: Raspberry Vodka martinis with glacier ice, hot chocolate with cinnamon whiskey, coffee and Amarula, and some nice Glenfiddich scotch. Ya, it was definitely the booze that added the inch to my waist.

Third lesson: Rafting on the Alsek was 90% extreme laziness, 5% hard work and 5% terror. Most of the time, we just spent floating down the river, gawking at all the scenery. I occassionally took a crack at the oars, but even then, the river did most of the work. Crossing Lowell Lake and heading down the sluggish Dezadeash River were probably the most physically challenging, as we had to fight enormous winds that constantly pushed us back up the river. It's very frustrating rowing with all your might for a half hour only to realize that you've only gone a few hundred meters. This made up the 5% of labour.

The terror came from the few small sections of rapids along the river. Run properly, the entire episode couldn't be more anti-climatic. All this build up, and yet its over before you even have a chance to really enjoy it. Kind of like sex the first time. It's only exciting because it was sex. Same thing here. However, after watching the commercial tour-guide in front of us flip his boat into a bottomless hole, I can see the reason behind all of the hype. I doubt the guy who was sucked down the hole and spit out the other side thought it was anti-climatic. He probably wet the inside of his dry suit.

Some may also feel additional "terror" with the knowledge that the area was crawling with bears. Fortunately, I don't find this to be the case. In the few weeks I spent on the river, we spotted over 30 bears, the majority of which were grizzlies. And I couldn't be happier. I truly felt that I was living amongst bears out there, and yet I felt safer than I do walking around Vancouver late at night. Don't get me wrong... I never want to be in the circumstance that finds me face to face with a pissed off momma bear. Yet, the more time you spend around these giants, the more they make sense. In general, if you keep out of their food, keep them out of YOUR food, leave their kids, alone and avoid scaring the shit out of them, everybody can get along just fine. Of course, that's easy for me to say. I haven't had a young male grizzly give my tent a whack in the middle of the night yet. That might change my mind a little. Well, until then, I just get to treasure the moments of watching these big bruisers live their lives.

While the daily lessons may have been simple, the one grand lesson I learned is how bloody lucky I am to have these opportunities. Not only have I been able to see some of our country's most beautiful and wild scenery, but I was also given that feeling of being in touch with the world in a way that I never experience in the city. Knowing the river, knowing the wildlife, knowing the weather. All of these become important in your daily life. Its extended time in places like these that you can come to appreciate what it means to live as part of the world, and our ancient heritage as human beings. So while I may have been missing my summer, enduring the chill of glacial waters and mountain winds, I have returned to Vancouver rejuvinated. Besides, despite those falling leaves marking the beginning of autumn, it seems we're in for an Indian summer. Plenty of days to wear shorts and t-shirts to be had yet!