September 14: A Taste of Fall in the Matanuska River Valley

A few weeks after moving to Anchorage, I sent an email to a the Knick Canoe and Kayak (mostly sea and some river kayaking) message board, hoping to meet some fellow paddlers.  Within 15 minutes of sending my note, I had received close to 10 replies.  I was impressed by the generosity of this community, the spontaneous willingness to help integrating an uprooted newbie and helping me with pursuing my passion for whitewater kayaking.  This email posted on the message board is what gave me the opportunity to do my first descent of Six Mile creek and later on, to paddle the Lion's Head section of the Matanuska river.

One day in September, I received an email from Zach, who at some point had read my email to the KCK message board and was inviting me to run Lion's Head with a few friends of his.  I jumped on the opportunity and on Saturday morning, met downtown Anchorage with this entirely new group of people, ready to drive about an hour and a half north of the city, to our put-in.  We would have one open canoe, one oar rig and two kayaks, including myself.

Mid September, Anchorage was still green and relatively warm by Alaska standards.  Within an hour of northward driving, I felt like we were entering a different world... or at least a different season.  Summer was over, here.  It was clear and sunny but the air was nippy and the mountains were exploding with the yellow and light orange colors of Fall. I felt overwhelmed by the beauty that was surrounding me.  No picture can do it justice (especially not MY pictures and, on top of that, taken with my phone!). Truncating a piece of this landscape and confining it to a few thousand pixels feels like I am amputating and choking a piece of the Universe to force and squeeze it into a tiny box.  That just does not feel right.  So I trust you will use your imagination and "think out of the picture"!  Let your mind wander, remove the rigid borders of these photos and let yourself shrink to the size of a tiny ant strolling amongst towering peaks.

Fall is Here! But not There (in Anchorage).

Downstream from the section we were going to paddle, the Matanuska river appeared braided and I was not sure what to expect in terms of flow.  It seemed rather low to me but my companions kept wondering at how much water was there.

The Matanuska River Valley

As we approached our destination, the river channelized and I realized that we were going to paddle just downstream of the Matanuska glacier (The Matanuska forms at the confluence of its east and south forks and then meets with the glacier). It was going to be a refreshing paddle.

Matanuska Glacier

We started our journey on Caribou creek, which was apparently flowing much higher than usual and was a nice cappuccino color. After less than a mile, the creek met the Matanuska, but instead of letting itself be engulfed by the larger stream, it "butted head" with its big sister for another half mile or so, resisting the mixing.  In my kayak, I rode the clearly defined line separating the brown waters of the creek from the silty gray flow of the Matanuska.

Meeting without Mixing: the Matanuska river (Gray) and Caribou Creek (Brown)

Never have I paddled such thick silty water.  A long time ago, my dear friend Susan and I paddled the Royal Gorge of the Arkansas in Colorado after a heavy storm and I remember the water being brown and thick with sediment --Frappucino color eh, SuzZ? ;).  This was somewhat similar, except the Matanuska is even thicker, loaded with silt eroded away by the glacier.  This water was pretty difficult to read as everything was gray: no way to rely on frothy whitewater to give away holes, some of which, large enough to swallow a good size raft, would sneak up on you.  You just had to be ready to make a move to avoid getting "chundered" in some big hydraulic. This made for a fun run: nothing difficult (Class III+/IV), but very continuous, so dynamic, and keeping you on your toes at all times.

 

Zee Crew

 

This valley is a jewel that gives you a feeling of remoteness even though it is only about an hour and a half from Anchorage.  Aside from the paddling, I hear it offers myriad of hiking, skiing and mountain biking opportunities.  The second I set my eyes on these mountains, I knew I would return to explore the area and lose myself in its wilderness. I also promised myself that whoever would come visit me here in Alaska, I would have to drag them here to show them the simple beauty of the Matanuska river valley.  So come on! Try me! :)

September 1st: Paddle to Portage Glacier.Take 2

Glaciers are one of the many awe-inspiring natural features I have found in Alaska since I have moved here.  These gigantic rivers of ice suspended on the side of mountains slowly creep downhill, relentlessly eroding their way through the mountains and digging their characteristic U-shaped valleys.

To reach Portage glacier, I was going to paddle the length of Portage Lake,  which was created behind the terminal moraine of the glacier as it began receding. And receding it did!  In fact, in 1886, the Begich-Boggs Visitor Center was built to offer a point of view on the glacier.  Today, the glacier cannot be seen from the building any more.

On my first attempt to see the glacier, it was an unusual 80-degree day in Anchorage!!  The perfect weather to paddle on some frigid water!  I loaded my gear and boat and set off for the 50-mile drive.  As I approached the turn-off to Portage Lake, I noticed the valley was completely filled with dark cloud.  I made the left turn on Portage road and within 5 minutes, the temperature had dropped from 80 to 50!  It was also foggy and very windy.  At the visitor center, a ranger discouraged me to put-on because of 19-knot winds that were coming from the glacier and pushing large icebergs into the lake.  Also some sea-kayakers, who tried to put-on despite the wind, ended up pushed in the mouth of Portage Creek.  That was enough to convince me I had to scratch that plan... I would be back!

About a month later, I returned to Portage hoping to make it to the glacier.  Once again it was very windy but nothing like what I had seen a few weeks earlier.  It was also sunny and crisp.  So I decided to put on.

The paddle out was challenging as a side wind created irregular waves that were sometimes up to 3 or 4 feet and pushing me into the shore.  I would have preferred a headwind to this but I was going to make do. 

The glacier was almost immediately in view but I had a hard time realizing the size of what I was looking at until I saw a cruise ship approaching it.  These cruise-ships taking tourists close to the glacier are not small.  This particular boat was a double-decker and the glacier in the background made it look like a tiny water bug.

 

Can you see the double-deck cruise ship in the circle

I kept struggling against the wind and the waves until I reached a little beach across the lake from the glacier.  I had been advised to not even try to approach the glacier as the calving process could be very dangerous for a kayak.  Witnessing the glacier calving was very impressive.  As I was taking in the beauty of what was in front of my eyes, I heard what sounded like a lightening strike without immediately realizing what it was.  Only when it happened again and I saw what looked like a small piece of ice detaching from the glacier did I realize the glacier was calving.  From the loud resounding sound the breaking blocks made as they parted from the bulk of the ice, they were probably much larger than they seem from the safety of my beach.  I stayed there for a while, mesmerized by this evolving scene.

Up to that point, I had been very observant of the words of caution I had received from friends and from the park ranger and I had stayed well clear of the glacier.   I was also told not to approach icebergs as they can abruptly overturn and capsize a boat or, in a worst case scenario, crush it and with it its paddler.  From my little beach, I could see two small icebergs. Their deep blue color and graceful shape made them so attractive, I could not resist but approach them.  I figured they were not that large and well... they looked like they had no desire to flip over.  Obviously they just wanted to float around, chillin'.  So I carefully paddled up to them and took pictures from every possible angle.

The paddle back to the put-in was much easier than the paddle out as the side wind had turned into more of a head wind.  I made it back to my car in an hour with my hand and face frozen from the constant splashing of 33 degree water and smiling from having seen seen this marvelous sight.

On the way back to Anchorage, I was rewarded by another sight that I have now seen many times but of which I cannot get enough:  beluga whales were swimming up Turnagain.  Even though the whales only slightly poke the surface of the water and are barely visible, a little piece of white skin emerging from the waves here and there or the occasional blow creating a spray are always a special treat.  

Can you see a beluga? :)

One more time I was returning to the city with my eyes and mind full of what makes Alaska so special: natural beauty.  



 

August 30: Blitz Visit to the Alaska State Fair

The Alaska State Fair (In Palmer)... I had heard of it, again and again: "You have to go to the Fair!"  "You have to check it out!" "You have to see the veggies! They are huuuuge!"  All of the above were stated with a little irony, though.  The idea was that since I was new to AK, I had to know what the Fair was like. That was something to maybe just do once, because this is kind of a big deal for a lot of Alaskans.

The first weekend of the Fair, I realized what my friends meant when they were saying it was a popular event.  That Friday night, I was trying to get out of town to go to the Nenana River for the weekend.  Little did I know I was going to run into my very first (and only) traffic jam since I had moved away from DC.  Instead of 20 min, it took me over an hour to go from Anchorage to Eagle River.  Past Eagle River... more jammin'!! Yikes!  I first thought the congestion was due to two rather minor fender benders I saw on the road.  But after passing Palmer, not a soul on the road!!  Basically, all of Anchorage was going to the Fair that night!

The next weekend, I decided go see the Fair. Well.. I kind of had to.  It was a crisp clear day and I drove to Palmer early to beat the crowd.  I arrived before the opening but a line had already formed.  I could already tell I was not going to stay there for very long.  I took this as "a mission".  First year in Alaska, I could not NOT see the State Fair or I was going to remain a Cheechako... even after my first winter!! Noooo!!

So to summarize my experience, I bought my ticket and started my "Fair marathon", that took me at top strolling speed through the alleys of the fairgrounds, only occasionally stopping for an art gallery here and there.  I quickly walked through the reptile exhibit, passed by the RV's sale, flew by some camouflage clothes stores (even though the pink camo clothes were very appealing), zoomed through the farm machine exhibit, skipped the farm animals and finally made it to the veggies and flowers exhibit.  This is where I spent the most time, amazed by the size of the specimens (flowers or veggies) I was seeing.  For the longest time I did not know that the cool Alaska climate could allow for anything to grow here.  But veggies do grow alright! Those long summer days probably make up for the lack of warmth.  I will let the pictures speak for themselves.

Not so small cabbages

 

 

Who wants a 42+ lbs zucchini?

Big and ugly

 

 

 

1,182 lbs pumpkin... just another way to make the paper.

 

Dahlias

By the time I was done with the veggie exhibits, the grounds were noticeably more crowded than when I had arrived in the morning.  I explored the last alley I had not yet seen: the one with the rides and the "Weeees!!" and "Aaaaaahs!!" and "OMG! OMG! OMG!s." At that point, I could not wait to get out of there.  OK, the State Fair was kind of fun but I had had enough.  I realized I was walking towards the exit with a sense of urgency.

I'd take a river or a mountain over this at any time.

On the way back I found the tent exhibit below.  The rivalry between Alaska and Texas always makes me smile.  It can pop up anywhere at anytime.  Even the keynote speaker of a conference I attended last week alluded to it.

So there we were. Two hours later, the mission accomplished: I had seen the Alaska State fair.  My friends and colleagues were right:  it is a fun thing to see... Maybe just once! :)

August 26-28: Work Trip to Yakutat

Since I moved to Anchorage my blog posts may make is sound like I am on vacation here. But I do work some!  Actually, I work quite a bit but I love my job and do not mind going the extra mile if needed.

Without going into any details here, one of my projects involves some health risk assessment and health communication work for members of the Tlingit Tribe living in Yakutat ("The place where canoes rest" in Tlingit), a little town located on the coast of the Gulf of Alaska, about half way between Anchorage and Juneau.  Little did I know but Yakutat is both a popular fishing and surfing spot in Alaska.  Traveling there, I had a good taste of its reputation as a fishing spot. 

My colleague and I flew to Yakutat, via Juneau.  In other words, we passed our destination to go to Juneau and back tracked to land in Yakutat (why does this make sense? I dunno!).  I must have been the only woman on the flight between Juneau and Yakutat.  Most of the passengers were bearded guys in their 50's and above, carrying fishing rods and wearing baseball caps. We landed in the tiny Yakutat airport and as we were walking from the tarmac to the terminal, my colleague pointed to a log cabin  and said "that's where you are staying.  Pretty convenient, isn't it!"  I had booked my room at the last minute, which was a mistake at the peak of fishing season, and had found the last room available at the "Yakutat Lodge" a popular fishermen hangout.  The place was about 50 feet (I am not exaggerating) from the airport.  So it was indeed, convenient.  On my 30-second walk between the airport and the lodge, I caught a glimpse of my first tsunami warning sign.  Alaska is at rather tectonically active spot and I was on the coast so it made sense.

My colleague was staying at another lodge, maybe slightly more fancy than mine but the bottom line is: there is no hotel in Yakutat. So fishermen lodges are the way to go; just a bit more rustic than what I was used to in my former job.  I ended up in a room with four beds, a full size freezer (yes, if you are a fisherman, you need to store your catch!) and a horrible smell of heating oil that ended up stinking up all my clothes.  Other than the smell, it was all I needed.

Yes, I had aaaall these beds for myself!

Among other things, the trip gave me the opportunity to learn about the Tlingit Tribe and to realize how attached these people are to their traditions.  If it is successful, the project I am working on in Yakutat should help the members of the Tribe with the preservation of their traditions and of their subsistence way of living.  Although challenging, this has been a very interesting and rewarding undertaking so far and I hope the collaboration with the Tribe remains fruitful. 

Tlingit art

The three days I spent in Yakutat were busy as I had to give four talks including one to the Tribal Counsel and one at a public meeting. But thanks to my colleague who knew the area and to the generosity of the Tribe who let us borrow one of their maintenance trucks (pretty sweet ride!! See below) I had a chance to visit a couple of very pretty places.

This was our ride for the duration of our stay

First, we went to Harlequin Lake.  We drove 30 or 40 miles on a dirt road, in the middle of nowhere.  I could have taken a nap at the wheel as we did not encounter a single curve in the road.  We parked by the "Dangerous River", a large volume stream, fed by Harlequin Lake and emptying close by in the Gulf of Alaska.  This river appeared to me as a freight train.  I was amazed by the speed of the water, making its way undisturbed like a fast conveyer belt: no rocks, no eddies, just a straight channel leading an enormous volume of water to the ocean.

The Dangerous River coming out of Harlequin lake

 After crossing the river, we hiked in the woods for about half an hour.  I was expecting an encounter with some Hobbits as everything was so green, mossy and lush.  This is area is part of the Tongass National Forest, a temperate rain forest, and the trees were covered with thick moss.  I thought that if there was a tree equivalent of stuffed animals, that how they would look.

A glimpse of the Tongass National Forest

What a "stuffed tree" should look like

We finally emerged out of the wood onto the shore of Harlequin Lake.  And there... WOW!!  What a sight! The stillness of the lake covered with icebergs and surrounded by mountains, the sun piercing out of the gray clouds and the barely perceptible murmur of what sounded like a tiny stream (that we could never identify) made for a breathtaking scene.  Once or twice, the silence was disturbed by a loud "Crack!!" that had us expect some big wave making it to shore.  But the surface of the lake remained undisturbed and as still as a mirror.  The reason for this remains a mystery.

Aside from its pure beauty, this place is very interesting for multiple reasons.  Harlequin lake appeared around 1850.  It is 1,000 feet deep in places. The icebergs floating at it surface come from the Yakutat ice field, a glacier large enough  to cover the five boroughs of New York City.  Sadly, because of the rising of temperatures, this immense expense of ice melting fast and ultimately is bound to disappear.  A particularity of this glacier is its low elevation, with a high point at about 2,000 feet above sea level. 

But what I will get out of this spot is its magic and even though they do not do it justice, I will let the pictures speak for themselves.

Harlequin Lake

After Harlequin Lake, we made our way to the beach. It was so strange to leave a mountainous landscape, drive for 45 minutes and be by the ocean.  But what a beach!! Immense, with fine sand and clear light green water forming perfect waves.  I understood right away why this was the Alaska surfing Mecca.  We stayed there for a while, with our eyes glued to the huge sky, the ocean as far as we could see, and the evening colors changing in the setting sun.  I did not want to lose a second of it.  I felt like a kid walking towards the waves and running away from them as they roll towards the beach to not get my feet soaked. It was a very pretty evening and the perfect way to release the tension of the past two days.

After this, my colleague and I went back to the restaurant of my lodge and decided to celebrate a good day of professional success and beautiful sightseeing with a beer and a feast of local Dungeness crab.  I have had crab before but never was it that good and never was the crab so HUGE!  Dungeness crabs can be up to 8" in diameters and they taste so buttery! DE-LISH!!Totally worth the work you put into getting to that meat.

This Yakutat trip lasted only 3 days but it was dense with new experiences and discoveries (professional, cultural...etc.).  This page only relays a quick glimpse of the whole stay.  But I can say that it was pretty satisfying for a "business trip" and I am hoping for many more to come.

August 23-24: Nenana River

First, a little bit of geography. The Nenana originates in the Alaska range, out of Nenana glacier, about 100 miles south of Fairbanks.It forms the eastern boundary of Denali National Park and Reserve.  The Nenana flows North into the Tenana, which itself flows into the Yukon river.
The name "Nenana" is derived from the Lower Tanana word "Neenano", meaning "the stopping-while-migrating stream". Lower Tanana is an almost extinct Athabascan language.  Today, only 30 people speak the language and all live in Minto on the Tanana river. OK, enough trivia knowledge for now.

I was pretty excited about that weekend on the Nenana for since my move, I had not ventured very far from the Anchorage bowl.  I was supposed to meet a group about 5 hours north from the city, passed Denali National Park, close to the small town of Healy. Coincidentally, we were all going to stay at a cabin right by Stampede road.  Does this ring a bell?  Stampede trail? Anyone? Anyone? Hint:  "Into the Wild"? Stampede trail is where Christopher McCandless starved to death after getting trapped in the Alaska "wilderness" after the Teklanika river (which flows in the Nenana) rose and prevented him from getting back to civilization. I put "wilderness" in quotes, because as far as Alaska goes, there are much much more remote places than this place.  In fact, even after having read the book and seen the movie, I was surprised to realize that this whole drama unraveled at a stone throw from civilization. 

This bus is from the movie "Into the Wild" not the original one.

Anyway, I left Anchorage on Friday night around 6 pm.  That time of the year, it is still light until 10:00 or 10:30 pm so I was looking forward to a drive, which I knew was going to be spectacular.  I am now used to the fact that wherever you are out of a city, nature puts on a show and it never disappoints.  And this time again, it delivered.  It is impossible to described but the scenery was simply amazing all along the way.

One particular image will remain engraved in my memory for a very long time.  I was driving along in a wooded corridor and in front of me was blue sky and some white clouds.  I was listening to some tunes, singing along when suddenly, I realized what REALLY was in front of me.  It was no white clouds! It was Denali! Denali was right there is front of me, covered with snow, towering over all other mountains, looking imposing and massive.  It had obviously been in front of me for a while but when I realized it, the road made a turn and it vanished.  "Nooo!! Well, I am sure I will find a better view".  Nope! Did not happen!  This was THE view.  I stopped later to take a picture farther down the road but it was not nearly as good.  Even though I could not capture this image on camera, it made an impression that I will not forget any times soon.  All I have to do is think about it to see this magnificent mountain in its absolute greatness.

Time for more trivia knowledge!! Yay! Do you know that Denali is the tallest mountain from base to peak on earth with an elevation of 20,237 ft and 18,000 ft from base to peak (compared to only 12,000 ft for Everest).  Pretty cool huh?

Denali towering among other peaks after missing my one opportunity at a great shot from the road.  Disappointment...

 But I am getting sidetracked.  I made it to Stampede road  around 11 pm and met with my friend at a very nice isolated cabin.... or so it seemed.  That night at 1 am, we were woken up by the creepy sound of dogs howling.  And when I say "dogS"  I do not mean two dogs.  I mean a pack of dogs or what I found out the next day was a "team of dogs".  Yes, quite a few people practice mushing in Alaska and for that, they usually need 15 or 20 dogs (or more?).  It so happened that our distant neighbors had a dog team and they all decided to go nuts in the middle of the night.  That was priceless. Only in Alaska... and Canada maybe? :)

The next morning, after working some logistics, we met with some local paddlers.  One of them was quite a character.  Louis is 13, about 5 ft tall and... an amazing paddler.  His parents own a raft company that mostly operates on the Nenana and Louis paddles this river 4 to 5 times a week.  He know it like the back of his hand.  Louis is not only a gifted paddler but also a ski champion and above all, a great kid.  He was excellent at describing rapids and guided us lie a champ' through the last part of the river after his parents had to take out.

Louis, briefing us about Twin Rocks rapid

The Nenana is a big volume river (about 8000 cfs that day) with only a few class III rapids but TONS of play spots.  This river is a long fluid ribbon sprinkled all over with play waves and holes.  The features are big but friendly and at the end of the day, I felt like I had been paddling the whole river backwards, trying to catch surf after surf after surf.

Chris catching a nice surf

We went down at a relaxed pace, playing as much as we could and enjoying the nice weather.  Apparently, this weekend was the nicest weekend of the entire summer, which had been cold and rainy.  We certainly lucked out as it could not have been better.

Since a picture is worth a thousand words, here goes:

 By the end of this long day, some were tired, some were sore, all were all happy and also famished!  We decided to go to the 49th State Brewery where we all had some delicious pie-size burgers and good Alaska beer to toast to "a great day on the river with new friends".
After dinner, we played a few games of corn-hole, horseshoe and some other super hard game where you are supposed to throw a string weighted by two balls (one on each end) to wrap it around some distant metal bar. I have no idea what it is called and it seems like a rather primitive concept but... it is hard! And since I am kind of stubborn when it comes to these stupid challenges, I probably would still be there now if my friends had not pried me away from this game.

With our bellies full and our minds also overflowing with happy memories of the day, we drove back to the cabin where the perfect night cap was waiting for us. No... not mosquitoes, although they were there too... But a gorgeous sunset.  I probably took 15 pictures of the sky trying to capture this ever changing moment but none of them did it justice.  What a nice array of colors nature gave us that evening!

The next day, only three of us paddled the Nenana again.  One of us, Matt, left in the morning as he had to be back to Anchorage early in the afternoon.  But by the time we took out (around 2 pm), I had received a text from him asking me for a ride back to the city as his old VW van had broken down about 15 minutes from Healy.  So much for getting back early!  So I picked him up and we drove back chatting the whole way.  This made me truly realize the full potential of the Anchorage area in terms of outdoor activities.  I knew there was a lot there. But Matt told me about all these creeks, which are fairly close to the city.  He told me about lakes, about skiing options, mountain biking, hiking...etc.  All right there, at the city's door step.  Good thing his van broke down (I hope he never read this) as this conversation considerably broadened my horizon in term of what can be done and made it much more tangible.
Hopefully over time I will find out how to get the most out of this gigantic and beautiful playground!!