THE TATSHENSHINI: RIVER OF THE BEAR Sobek Expedition 1978 in

The outer Coast of Glacier Bay with Dry Bay in the foreground, and Mt Fairweather in the background. The Tatshenshini/ empties into Dry Bay, and begins in the Interior north of Haines

“ I could hear the bear breathing right behind me, and I was totally exhausted, couldn’t run anymore. I yelled at Bruce 200 yards away in camp. Then the bear changed directions, loped past me and disappeared into the brush along the lakel" Bart Henderson finished telling us about his encounter with an overcurious brown bear that had enthusiastically followed him at Alsek Lake. He produced a 500 mm lens that had huge puncture marks from the bear's teeth, the bear had destroyed his camera and tripod when dropped during the pursuit.

When Bart had completed our briefing on what to expect ahead, we were almost at the head of Lynn Canal, enjoying the warm sun on the deck of the ferry Taku. The Chilkat mountains rose steeply above the emerald-blue fjord., inundated with hanging glaciers and cascading waterfalls spilling out of green alpine meadows. A pod of killer whales were blowing off our starboard. Soon they slipped silently back into the depths where they had come. It Was an incredible beginning of a two week trip that would take us through some of Alaska's most remote wilderness.

We were spending the next 12 days with Sobek Expeditions floating the Tatshenshini- Alsek River in Alaska. Bart was the leader of the expeditions, a veteran of three previous trips on the river that summer, and he had successfully whetted our appetites with his impressions of the scenic grandeur that lay ahead. The Tatshenshini originates The Tatshenshini/Alsek River cutting through St Elias Range. Northern peaks of Glacier Bay in foreground

Alsek/Tatshenshini River that cuts through the St Elias Range from a series of interior lakes in Southwest Yukon Territory near Haines Junction. It then joins the larger Alsek that empties into Dry Bay, forming a total of 120 miles of wilderness river that provides habitat for moose, brown bear, mountain goats, wolverine, and bald eagles.

The river experienced it first exploration by white man through Edward Glave and Jack Dalton in 1890, the latter who originated the . Since their successful exploratory trip, only a small handful of parties have floated the river, dating from 1972 St Elia Range and Malaspina Glacier to the north of the Alsek River and Glacier Bay National Park

to present. Sobek had explored the river in 1976, and were now beginning their first yearly series of guided river trips in Alaska.

The excitement and chatter increased as we gathered together at the Haines ferry terminal, and after loading the Sobek bus with gear and passengers, we were whirled off on the heading towards the Yukon interior 100 miles away. We worked our way up the incredible braided delta of the Chilkat River to Chilkat Pass, leaving the lush coastal rainforest behind at treeline for the scrub interior that lay north. When we finally reached camp at. the source of the Tatshenshi, it was pitch black out and the cold rainy drizzle that had been with us the last few hours had ceased. The Sobek crew warmly greeted us and we soon were drawn to a large fire that warded off the chill of the night. We could smell an enticing dinner brewing as we patiently waited, listening to the sounds of the river and the Coleman stoves burning. Mark., our cook, finally yelled "dinnerl’ and all 24 of us almost knocked over the camp tables to get served: outrageous tacos.

We awoke to a beautiful, clear and crisp morning and found that frost had formed along the river banks and on our tents, Soon the sun peaked over the ridge and a misty fog began to rise off the river as the day became warmer. Early September proved to be an excellent time for fall colors: the dwarf birch had begun to turn red and the willows yellow. As we huddled close to the fire we could view an occasional sockeye salmon swim up the gravel bed of a tributary stream. The river had already mesmerized and calmed our rushed urban pace of life,

Mark soon announced breakfast: steamed sockeye salmon and egg omelets made with cheese, olives, celery and mushrooms. Following our feast we began packing up our gear in waterproof bags provided for each passenger, donned on our "Mae West” life preservers, and finally launched our six craft into the river with a loud yell. It was a thrilling experience to be swept away by the current, and incredible quite. You could

feel the river through the raft pulses of waves that. ranged from small rapids to quiet stretches. The river was a glimmering sheet of light and dancing waves., broken only by the shadows cast by aspen and spruce. We finally began to relax and drink in the vistas around us.

Winding our way through Pristine wilderness in comfortable style, we drifted farther away from the Haines highway, the last contact we would have with civilization until we reached Dry Bay. Within several hours the river began to narrow, and entered a canyon that challenged us with our first set of rapids. The excitement ran high as we rode through boiling sections of water that would almost launch us into the air, then pull at our raft from all directions, finally sucking us through a massive wall of white foam. These were called haystacks with walls of water up to six feet in height. Our oarsman Stan picked his way down the rapids, expertly turning spinning and wheeling the boat through swirling whirlpools, avoiding the major obstacles such as rocks and sheer cliff walls. As the current continued to race us through the canyon, Stan yelled barely audible above the roar of the river "this is so far out. It’s just as fantastic running this river each time down!” In agreement with his enthusiasm, we gave the thumbs up.

We picked a broad stretch of gravel for our first camp that evening, 15 miles from our put in and deeper into untouched wilderness. Surrounding carpets of Dryas meadows proved to be not only beautiful, but also provided great cushions under our tents. After setting up camp, Mark again lived up to his already proven cooking ability with a meal of spaghetti topped off with a chocolate marble cake baked in a Dutch oven with coals, Colorado style. After dinner the early hours of the evening were spent largely in conversation of the days events and what lay ahead., Then a guitar appeared and the singing began. I experienced a feeling of content as I crawled into my sleeping bag. Looking up I watched the stars. Here the nights were so clear. that constellations stood out with a brilliance and amazing clarity against a black sky The music of the gurgling river quickly soothed me to Sleep,

Our next day on the river was spent getting to know the Tatshenshini: its impressive mountains and spruce forests. We viewed many bald eagles nesting along numerous complex canyons that overshadowed the river, and an occasional adult would swoop close by us, Towards the broad u-shaped valley of the Carmine peaks, the river became serpentine and slowed considerable. Lots of time to View the scenery and an occasional moose that was feeding along the river. Towards evening we set up camp at Sediment Creek where the peaks began to prove more dramatic in size and steeper in slope. Here we were to lay over one day and hike up an adjacent peak.

Early the next morning after packing ourselves full of a breakfast of pancakes with almonds, sesame seeds, and peaches, we began our trek by walking up an available bear trail that led up the steep ridge. We were grateful for the clear trail as we emerged from the cottonwood forest and willow thickets, and continued up on an open talus slope. When the sun had finally broken over the peaks to the east, we rested, enjoying the warmth and beauty of the morning as the hoarfrost began to melt off the scarlet red fireweed. The view was spectacular with the river emerging from the dry interior to the northeast below, and disappearing to the south behind an even greater range of peaks covered with ice fields.

Finally we had gained the top of the ridge: rolling alpine meadows and grassy tussocks that commanded a sweeping 360 degree view of peaks and valleys around us. Pulling off our boots and sprawling out on the soft carpet of flowers, we hastily devoured our lunch, absorbing the vistas around us. We were soon entertained by water pipits bobbing and flying around us searching for insects on scattered patches of snows and several parka squirrels that were hastily running around foraging for succulent plants to eat.

As we began to explore the long meadowed ridge, we flushed several covies of ptarmigan before discovering a beautiful alpine lake choked with wildflowers and Alaska cotton grass. Nearby 20 mountain goats fed along the meadowed sandstone gully below us. Then Bart spotted something off in the distance, “looks like a small grizz, maybe this years cubl" I grabbed his binoculars and my heart began to pound as I

focused. A wolverine! He was moving about randomly along the meadow searching for parka squirrels. We grabbed our cameras and ran towards him. He still hadn’t seen us as we jogged parallel to his path., but then he disappeared behind a snow gully. Winded, we approached the ridge where we had lost sight of him, and were shocked to see him lying in the snow only 10 feet away, preening his leg. Only after Bruce had snapped a picture had he discovered our presence. Growling at us with a threatening posture he, then quickly ambled off in search of lesser crowds. This was one of the greatest highlights of my life among all the wilderness experiences I’ve had in Alaska. Of three years spent wandering throughout this state, it my most exciting and close encounter with a wolverine, an animal that has only been able to survive in remote wilderness areas far removed from man.

We were still exhilarated after exploring more our ridge, but with the light getting low we had to return back to camp. The sun was at our backs as we began to walk back down the meadow and the peaks we were walking on were casting deep purple shadows ahead of us on to the valley below and the ridges across. A few puffy clouds added depth and contrast to the spectacular view of the Carmines, a range of mountains that reminded me of the peaks surrounding Jasper, Alberta in the Canadian Rockies.

Leaving Sediment Creek we again covered more rapids of a less spectacular nature than those of the first days runs, leaving the steep-walled valley behind. The Tatahenshini now increased in size where it joined the Oconner River, whose source originated from the Datlasaka Range bordering Chilkat Pass, and headed wests, meandering and braiding through a broad glacial-carved valley. Here a stiff wind was picking up from the southwest, a sure sign of a frontal system that would soon bring rain.

Three of the Sobek Expeditions rafts in the center near the inlet to Alsek lake

We could see through the rainshowers the Alsek River confluence where we established another camp on our fifth day. Again our beach was inundated with bear tracks. Across the Alsek to the south lay the immense tongue of the Melbourne Glacier, its southern extension penetrating into Glacier Bay at Tarr Inlet. Now we were in the heart of the St. Elias and Fairweather Mountain Ranges where glaciers clothed the surrounding peaks. The storms and fog created mysterious patterns and moods that accentuated their heights, and the reds and yellows of fall co1ors became brighter and more vivid under the gray overcast.

During the next few days Mark continued to fuel our appetites with a great variety of meals: stuffed pork chops with apple coleslaw salad and macaroni and cheese, beef stew., and more of his omelets. Even though the storms continued as we worked our way downriver, we still maintained good spirits with exploratory trips to adjacent ridges and glacial outwashess, and with the evenings spent in conversation that centered around a warm fire. One trip was spent exploring the Sapphire Glacier that originated from a rugged series of aretes and gendarmes that exceeded 7,000 feet in elevation, steeply descending to the river near camp. After crossing stretches on the Glacier where subglacial rivers could be heard gurgling through channels beneath us, we scrambled near several large seracs the size of boxcars. The glacier was well named. Enhanced by the overcast day, its sheer face of blue compressed ice reflected a color that was almost a surrealistic turquoise. Soon the sun broke out of the cloud covers changing the mood again with shafts of shafts of warm rays that were glistening on the glacier and Alsek River below us. The surrounding cottonwood forest emerged from wisps of fog that enveloped the hills, reminding me of the New Guinea rainforests immersed in color tones of violet-blue and greens. Finally the dramatic peaks that gave birth to the Sapphire Glacier began to reveal their spectacular sheer faces, exposing the ruggedness of this mountain range.

We departed from cur favorite campsite., and the river continued to sweep us to sweep us past more glaciers and peaks that were now dusted with fresh snow. Another wolverine was spotted swimming across the river just ahead of us before we arrived at Alsek Lake, our final camp for the trip. After hiking to the end of the bank that generated the ice-choked lake, part pointed towards the end of the sand spit and again recreated his once in a lifetime bear encounter, “here's the spot where he swam towards us. We quickly closed the gap between us after he reached the shore while all three of us were running the half mile back to camp. I’m glad that he changed his mind on the pursuit!" This bear turned out to be quite large as Bart measured his hind feet at 17 inches in length. Although our last group was the only one not to see any brown bear, we were always aware of their presence. Almost every beach we walked was full of bear tracks.

There was a partial clearing again on our final evening on the river, and the base of Mt. Fairweather, 15,300 feet high emerged, exposing all the source of ice in the lake: the immense Alsek Glacier. The light turquoise icebergs created a creaking and groaning sound as it shifted, adding sound affects to the already bizarre scene of odd shaped forms of ice. One large mass exceeded a quarter of a city block in size. Even in inclement weather we were hooked, the river had revealed to us a finale of rugged beauty.

Our final on day river was miserable with high winds and massive sheets of rain. Our rafts shared the swollen river with large icebergs that were drifting with us. Tremendous torrents of water were boiling down from the adjacent ridges, creating powerful waterfalls that descended from misty heights. We were in awe of nature unleashed at its greatest force. With slow progress we finally arrived at a questionably named take out called Dry Bay.

The following day the Fairweather Mountain Range was clear and we transported all of our equipment and personal effects to the awaiting light airplanes that had arrived. From the air, the river revealed more superlatives of beauty, and we were treated with a spectacular flight along the outer coast of Glacier Bay national park. Once in Juneau, we shared a final meal together at the Baranoff Hotel. Although we were again thrust into the fast pace and conveniences of urban living, we could now reflect on a river experience that paralleled those of early explorers of Alaska's past. We had shared a part that is still has remained untouched by an aggressive, modern world. It is a part of Alaska that I will always want to return to, and will never forget.

Final day on Alsek Lake and Dry Bay where we could see Mt Fairweather.