Returning yet again to our gravel bar on Agashashok River. Ours is not correct, but it feels that way as Gwen and I have been the only two out there during our stays since Bob left back in June. Months have passed in the blink of an eye.
The weather could not have been more welcoming. Sunny, mosquitoes practically non existent, a vacation. Finishing up work from a previous visit, trips to the mid spruce plots included taking tree cores from upper and lower halves of each plot in preparation for future monitoring of fertilization, and the impacts thereof. Diameter at breast height (DBH) was also taken along with water sampling at the mouth, exit of the spruce plots, and multiple alpine locations in the watershed. Interestingly enough, the stream tricked us into appearing to dry up, only to be flowing strongly a good thirty minutes up stream. The flow seemed to have gone deep under the river bed, coursing below the rocky channel quietly so as to be undetected.
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| This covered the the river bottom in shallow pooled areas at the alpine station. |
Emerging from the woods following an extensive field day, another tent greeted us on the gravel bar. Sarah and Ellorie had dropped out of the sky earlier in the day, and apparently poked around our camp wondering who the other group on their gravel bar was. We weren't suppose to know they investigated our camp, but they agreed to tell us "if we were cool." Group dinners ensued, and I tagged along with Ellorie to help on some of her field work in exchange for both of them helping lower and raise a weather station. More on that debacle in a minute.
Their camp rolled a little differently than the "Watershed Twins" camp. No scrimping on food, a microwave (supposedly for experiments...), and some board games. It came out the other day at the Fish and Wildlife office that Gwen and I have been dubbed the Watershed Twins. Our names are similar, Gwen and Ben, probably the reason Bob hired us both, and a fitting Captain Planet type name needed to concede.
But, now to the weather station. Watching the GoPro video in hindsight, it did absolutely no justice to how difficult the 30 foot high metal tower was. Guy-wires wires all over waiting to snag an ankle or tangle the unfortunate soul who wasn't paying enough attention. A disaster waiting to happen. As prep work, Gwen and I spent a few hours cutting furiously, with a crappy fold out saw and Leatherman, to clear a path in willows to be able to even lower the tower. Ellorie and Gwen held a guy wire while Sarah and I maned the "death zone" under the tower in an attempt to shimmy it down gently. We got it down, but the whole operation literally was held together by fraying paracord, leaving nerves shot. Never again. The new sensor was attached, and under threat of an incoming thunderstorm, we debated if raising the tower was even possible, let alone safe. "Science isn't worth your life," Sarah stated. After one good ol college try, we said fuck it. Excuse the language but we really all had had it at that point and wanted nothing to do with the tower. Sarah and Ellorie headed off to finish their field work for the day, I called Bob to formulate a new plan, and then proceeded to nurse a stress headache for a few hours.
We all met again for dinner, squeezed in a few games of intense Bananagrams, and the gals were nice enough to share a little wine. I got some itchy feet after dinner and decided to head out for a hike. Ellorie was down for a leg stretch too and off we went. The original goal of the hike was to make a nearby ridge before the light disappeared. After about two minutes of hiking, getting distracted by the incredible scene of the sun burning the sky as it dipped below the mountains, that goal was pretty much shot. No matter. Over tussock tundra, through a stream, and shooting the gap between thick willows on to the next ridge. Still not enough, we continued up the steep granite scree, reaching a very nice knoll an hour or so after the sun had fully disappeared. Wind howled over the peak and a menacing wall of rain was tracking steadily to our location. The view though was too perfect however and we didn't budge for a while as darkness continued to encroach. This moment really put into perspective what is important to my happiness. Being outside, in beautiful places, with people that matter. Living a simple existence with emphasis placed on experience and quality, not other ambitions tied up in societal gain. I was exactly where I wanted to be in that moment. How many people can claim that as an occurrence at any time?
This revelation was all well and good, but it didn't get me down a steep scree slope, in very near darkness, as a wall of rain approached carried by a brisk wind. Ellorie led the way, down a slightly mellower ridge and into our exit route following a stream back to the gravel bar. Upon reaching the river, caribou migration trails crisscrossed the steep screw slope across the river. Worn into the rock, clearly defined even in the darkness. We tracked the stream bed, getting our feet quit wet along the way. It is difficult to see shallow pools in the dark and you don't know your in one, until your in one. We carefully left the river to move through a band of spruce before emerging, with relief, back at the gravel bar only twenty or thirty minutes from camp. Rain somehow held off, the storm forming a horseshoe shape around Ellorie and I, until reaching our tents and then the clouds opened. It was 3 a.m. Nothing is more satisfying after being cold and wet than stripping off your cloths, crawling into your dry tent and slipping into a warm sleeping bag. Bliss. Needless to say, both Ellorie and I were dragging pretty hard the next day. Worth it.
You may be wondering what became of the weather station. Bob called in a favor and Jared and Jesse, pilots who regularly drop us off, came out to assist. Both these men, being true Alaskan men, had the tower up in no time with minimal help from us. Jared's biceps are thicker than my quads, and Jesse was not far behind him in this feature. With the extra time, I took them blueberry picking. Off the pilots went about thirty minutes after arriving. Gwen took her fun hike while I puttered around camp packing gear leisurely. Jared, as thanks for throwing up the weather tower, promptly lost his money clip with all his cash, credit cards, and various important identifications on the gravel bar. He didn't realize this until arriving back in Kotzebue. At 7:00 pm, Jared arrived back at the gravel bar and everyone forged the Aggie for a search and rescue. Miraculously, the money clip was found twenty minutes later. In other good news, my long lost Leatherman also decided to show itself on the gravel bar. Gwen and I departed the Aggie later that evening, bidding farewell to Ellorie and Sarah. A real treat to meet both of them.
After a shared dinner, Ellorie and I began to swap music and it came out that she had just finished recording an album with a close friend. She showed me a few tunes and I was instantly transfixed. Dogwood, a very special band from Canada, are two women producing music and involved in its creation for the right reasons. I can't recommend their album Crows enough. Listen and purchase their album at thedogwoodband.bandcamp.com. Go there immediately. You can follow them further at thedogwoodband.wordpress.com.
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