Argh, it rained continuously during the night and the rain fell especially heavy in the morning as I hid in my tent and delayed my return trip to the road for a pickup. The longer I waited, the more concerned I became about the rising river, so finally I exited about 10 AM. I packed up camp in a rush, and headed back north in the direction of the road. I avoided the sketchy hilly stretch from two days before with a successful river crossing early in the hike. At the next river crossing, I wasn't so lucky. In a section where the water was rushing about thigh-level, I slipped and went face down in the water. Fortunately, I was only about one step from the bank, so I righted myself and stepped out of the river. My whole body had submerged and water had rushed down the collar of my jacket, but my pack remained above the water. Fortunately, my camera was in my pack. Unfortunately, my binoculars were in my pocket and immediately fogged up and were rendered useless. A few minutes after stepping out of the river, I watched as a herd of elk gracefully crossed at a shallower spot further downstream.
The dip in the glacier-fed river, er, reinvigorated me. It was still raining, but I was already completely soaked anyway, so there. I was getting pretty tired. As I was coming over a hill and looking for a gully in which to descend to the next river, I heard a couple of loud puffs. It sounded like a whale breathing. I didn't pay much attention. After another couple of steps, I looked up to see a grizzly about 40 yards ahead of me. It was huge - probably the biggest bear in the history of the world. He (it could have been a she, I'm not sure) was on all fours and foraging in the brush. He was pointed away from me. My bear bells were jingling, but I hadn't been making my bear calls. In about half a second, I had three thoughts; 1) Wow! Take a picture!, 2) That is the worst thought I've ever thought!, 3) Leave! The safety training and video I had watched at the Backcountry Info Center kicked in; Since the bear hadn't seen me, I muffled the bear bells and retreated out of sight (and out of smelling distance, I hoped). If the bear would have seen me, then I would have stood my ground and spoken to it in a firm voice while backing away. (Maybe the bear did see me, but just wasn't interested. Who knows?) Once I was at a safe distance, I religiously began chanting my bear call while walking down a different gully, crossing the river, and making my final ascent to the road. I saw another bear within a couple hundred yards on my way to the road, but he would have had to cross a wide gully and climb a ridge to get to me.
I waited only a few minutes to get on a passing bus full of Wonderlake day-trippers. Many of them asked me about my experience and it was fun to tell them about it. I had packed a dry set of clothes in a plastic trash bag. They remained dry during my dunk in the river and I was happy to change into them at the next rest stop. It was about a 3 hour ride back to the car. Most of the day-trippers had already been on the bus for nearly seven hours when they picked me up, so they, like I, were not as interested in stopping to see any more sites for the rest of the trip.
Once back to the car, I drove to the mercantile to do laundry and have a shower. It felt great! I had decided to push on to Fairbanks that night, but I wanted to dry off (somewhat) and reorganize the car. I left Denali about 8:00 PM with 120 miles in front of me on the way to Fairbanks. At first, I considered staying in a hotel, but I thought again and considered that I was warm and clean already, plus I wanted an opportunity to erect and dry out the tent. So I found a campsite that is used to display ice sculptures in the winter. Just as soon as I erected the tent and wiped it down with a rag, it began to rain. I hunkered down and went to sleep, with the intention of making one last round of calls about a trip to Barrow the next morning.
For a tale of a much much more extreme backcountry camper than I, watch this movie: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0427312/. Unfortunately for poor Timothy Treadwell, his story didn't end as happily as mine. (It's a great movie, tho. I saw it just before I left on my trip.)
The dip in the glacier-fed river, er, reinvigorated me. It was still raining, but I was already completely soaked anyway, so there. I was getting pretty tired. As I was coming over a hill and looking for a gully in which to descend to the next river, I heard a couple of loud puffs. It sounded like a whale breathing. I didn't pay much attention. After another couple of steps, I looked up to see a grizzly about 40 yards ahead of me. It was huge - probably the biggest bear in the history of the world. He (it could have been a she, I'm not sure) was on all fours and foraging in the brush. He was pointed away from me. My bear bells were jingling, but I hadn't been making my bear calls. In about half a second, I had three thoughts; 1) Wow! Take a picture!, 2) That is the worst thought I've ever thought!, 3) Leave! The safety training and video I had watched at the Backcountry Info Center kicked in; Since the bear hadn't seen me, I muffled the bear bells and retreated out of sight (and out of smelling distance, I hoped). If the bear would have seen me, then I would have stood my ground and spoken to it in a firm voice while backing away. (Maybe the bear did see me, but just wasn't interested. Who knows?) Once I was at a safe distance, I religiously began chanting my bear call while walking down a different gully, crossing the river, and making my final ascent to the road. I saw another bear within a couple hundred yards on my way to the road, but he would have had to cross a wide gully and climb a ridge to get to me.
I waited only a few minutes to get on a passing bus full of Wonderlake day-trippers. Many of them asked me about my experience and it was fun to tell them about it. I had packed a dry set of clothes in a plastic trash bag. They remained dry during my dunk in the river and I was happy to change into them at the next rest stop. It was about a 3 hour ride back to the car. Most of the day-trippers had already been on the bus for nearly seven hours when they picked me up, so they, like I, were not as interested in stopping to see any more sites for the rest of the trip.Once back to the car, I drove to the mercantile to do laundry and have a shower. It felt great! I had decided to push on to Fairbanks that night, but I wanted to dry off (somewhat) and reorganize the car. I left Denali about 8:00 PM with 120 miles in front of me on the way to Fairbanks. At first, I considered staying in a hotel, but I thought again and considered that I was warm and clean already, plus I wanted an opportunity to erect and dry out the tent. So I found a campsite that is used to display ice sculptures in the winter. Just as soon as I erected the tent and wiped it down with a rag, it began to rain. I hunkered down and went to sleep, with the intention of making one last round of calls about a trip to Barrow the next morning.
For a tale of a much much more extreme backcountry camper than I, watch this movie: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0427312/. Unfortunately for poor Timothy Treadwell, his story didn't end as happily as mine. (It's a great movie, tho. I saw it just before I left on my trip.)
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