Gravel Bar Gets Crowded

Once Gwen was on the plane,  I still had lots of work to finish in Selawik.  I did manage to squeeze in a few walks down to tent village south and sit on the gravel beach to watch the sun go down.  Tough to beat.

For the final Aggie trip, I was headed out alone.  But, as Jesse pulled the plane down to the gravel bar, a few large wall tents were already erected.   A large hunting group had made their base camp on the Aggie.  After chatting with the guys for a few minutes, I liked them immediately.  You had the cocky macho hunters, the eccentric with the twirled mustache, two old crotchety men, the quiet guy that knows all there is to know, and the guy who is there to sit and drink beer.  A full smorgasbord of entertainment, food and drink included.  I also got to spend some time with Sarah and her new research assistant Cassi.  Sarah was at the gravel bar a few trips back and it was nice to catch up, play some bananagrams, and do lab work while sipping hot toddies. 

When I wasn't down at the gravel bar getting my social fill, I was really logging the miles with a heavy pack.  Getting to all my sites and carrying twice the gear made for long days but I was in heaven.  The sun was out, the bugs were gone, and I was just traipsing through the woods.  My main focus for the last Aggie trip was to pull all the summer probes and resin bags, install overwinter data loggers, fix a bear ravaged snow gauge, and install a new stream site.  The little hosiery bag is filled with anion and

cation exchange resins, with three bags placed at each spruce plot to measure soil chemistry over winter.  Little ibuttons, watch battery sized temperature gauges, are also placed at each plot.  Ironically, due to warmer winters at the study site, thicker ice cover has been impacting the tributary mouth station, so I placed another identical installation where the stream exits the mid spruce plots.  

I tried to cram as much work as I could into each day, giving me ample time to do the last hike on my list.  Just to the south west of the gravel bar, a chain of ridges connect about four peaks together forming a ring.  I've been eying this hike all summer and finally have the time to crank it out.  I left fairly early in the day under blue skies.  Following the river downstream for about a mile, I cut up to the first steep scree slope and got onto the ridge line.  The wind just howled after reaching the ridge.  It was so strong I could lean forwards with my pack on and be supported.  I don't know how long I hiked for, I didn't bring a watch or check the time before I left.  Lost myself out there.  A few spots of the hike got pretty sketchy, and looking back, probably should have avoided some of the steep scree slopes.  I crossed a steep section to reach an easier grade towards the peak.  With each step, jagged shards skittered down the slope.  

Had good weather for my last day of field work and final trip to the alpine sights.  Took a long detour to the summit of Asik Mountain, the main peak in my study watershead.  Steep scree is the majority of the hike after hackng through dense willow thickets.  The slope levels of multiple times, creating view terraces to the valley.  Birds rode thermals up the slope and were dipping and diving on one another.  Some even nicking eachothers wings and barrel rolling together.  

The panorama from the peak in incredible, with the cold wind and smell off the ocean.  Vast tundra spreads out to the west, littered with tundra ponds.  The north and west directions give views into the Brooks Range.  It was hard to head back down the slope and into the valley to collect my last water samples of the year.    

After bumping my pullout date to the 16th, I had the feeling I wouldn't fly out till the morning of the 17th.  Hunting season is in full swing and the pilots have their hands full.  I spent the day packing down camp, reading a few books, hanging out with the hunters and helping Sarah and Cassie finish their last day of fieldwork for the season.  In celebration, Sarah made us Peppermint schnapps and hot cocoa, which we drank out by the weather station.  

Back in camp, I headed over to the hunters camp to catch up with Gary and Jeff, who promptly filled my mug with beer after beer as we talked well into the night.  For the second night in a row, the sky burned pink in the west and a rainbow formed over the mountains in the east.  Have never seen a rainbow sunset and got one two nights in a row.  Nice work Aggie.  

Sarah and Cassie came over and then the party really got going.  The hunting guys started trading flying stories and I don't think I have ever laughed so hard so consistently and for such a long period.  My lungs and stomach hurt, tears came out of my eyes, and I had to gasp just to keep my breath.  We all talked well into the night, each taking turns trying to pull teeth out of a caribou skull and moose jaw to take home with us.  Just after midnight, the music was blaring, stories were being told and then everything stopped, punctuated by the call of a large wolf pack on the ridge above camp.  Everyone instantly froze and headed into the darkness to become one with the sound.  The wolves howled for a good ten minutes as they moved over the ridge and upriver.  A haunting sound that immediately brought everyone to quiet.  Everyone stared into the black, myself and a few others ventured out, and Jeff gave a few calls. The pack moved on as quickly as they had come into the valley.  Everyone meandered back to their chairs but that was it.  The night was over.  The perfect cap to the evening.  

Selawik Without Sonny

With Sonny out of commission due to the broken arm, Gwen and I traveled around with two new guides, Ralph and Randel.  One 6'5" and a relatively large man, the other small and a compact ball of muscle.  Having them along was a pleasure, but it was strange not having Sonny guiding us around. He has really become the third member of the team, well versed in our daily routine, what needs to be done at each site, and being the third pair of hands that appears out of nowhere when you need them.  The only damper of the trip was the weather.  Whenever the group had to travel, the clouds would open and send ice cold rain down only for it to promptly stop and the sun poke out from behind the clouds as we pulled into the cabin or returned from taking samples.  If you have noticed a trend, yes, it rains all the time in Selawik in August and September for that matter.  

With new guides came new guns.  Ralph brought a 44 handgun with him and of course, asked me if I wanted to take some shots.  I thought the shotgun was loud, but after standing next to Ralph as he fired the handgun, my ears were ringing.  Think of the stereotypical war scene where the guy gets the gun fired next to his ear, everything takes on the sound of being underwater, then the sound returns with a whoosh and a ringing.  Exactly what happened.  They picked out a target across the river and we took turns shooting.  I came close on my first try, missing just slightly low with the bullet splashing into the water.  Ralph and Randall told me I shot like a girl because I had used two hands.  So, they told me to shoot like a man with one hand and I sailed the bullet over the ridge and out of sight.  Nowhere near the targeted.  So, I shoot like a woman.  

Along with the gun, Ralph brought out some dried salmon strips he got from a friend.  I haven't had fish in maybe 8 years but this was a perfect reintroduction.  A texture similar to jerky.  You place the thin strip in your mouth, and using the top row of teeth, scraped the fish meat from the skin to enjoy a smokey, if slightly oily, flavor.  I had a strip or two.  Gwen couldn't stop eating them so I let her finish the bag.  They were gone in minutes.  I thought she deserved them as it was her last research trip of the summer.  As I write this, she is probably cramming as many things into suitcases as she can in preparation for her Peace Corps placement in Senegal.  

After three days of work at the cabin, Ralph and Randall shuttled Gwen and I, along with our mountain of gear back down to Selawik village.  Fortunately, there was no confusion this time on when we were due back in town.  I made it clear with Joe before we left the village when we were to arrive back in town, eliminating any chance of him nearly having a heart attack again.  

Sonny stopped by for half an hour after Gwen and I arrived in the village and he seemed in good spirits.  He was enjoying spending time with his son, and having his grand children spend lots of time at his house where he was running an impromptu life skills camp, teaching them all how to wash dishes, do laundry, and most likely how to catch, clean, and dry fish.  His arm seemed to be healing well, but he was itching to get back out on the river and out of the village.  He's not a man that can sit still for too long.

Arriving back in Kotzebue, Gwen and I tied up a few loose ends data wise to make sure everything she had been loading into the computer and putting into her notebook was in a place I could easily find.  We did a gear check, organized samples in the fridge, and then it was time to shuttle her to the airport.  After spending nearly every minute of every day with someone for three months, it immediately becomes foreign when they leave.  Good luck in Senegal Gwen.  

Aggie Fights Back

The Aggie lulled Gwen and I into thinking its skies would always shine and storms passed  quickly through.  The Aggie lied.  It would tempt and tease, deciding to clear up at nightfall after keeping us tent bound all day, deciding to clear up after returning from a long field day soaked to the bone, deciding to rain harder the further into the alpine we trekked.  The Aggie was making up for its soft demeanor earlier in the year.

Fortunately, we had a lighter work load this trip and could afford to stay in camp when it was really coming down and venture out in the evenings when the sun would poke through.  I actually enjoyed the down time, catching up on sleep and on books I have been paging through for the last few weeks.  

On the second day, the clouds broke for a brief moment and used it as my excuse to strike out upriver and investigate a hiking route I had been eyeing since first landing on the gravel bar back in June.  I had looked at these mountains every trip, every day, and now I finally had the time to pick out some hiking ridges.  The walk upriver was slow and meandering, not due to difficulty but because I was in no hurry to get to anywhere.  I wandered back and forth, crossing the river multiple times, and even squeezing in some time to sit and watch the water for a while, letting my mind drift.  Crossing the Aggie for the last time, I cut up a small tributary stream and through a thick band of spruce.  Blueberries were everywhere and perfectly ripe and plump.  I couldn't stuff them into my mouth quick enough.  Making it through the band of blueberries, I was deposited onto an open, tussock's tundra that led straight to the ridges I had been eyeing all summer.  They looked steep, but clean lines to the top and access to more ridges.  But, I would not scale them this trip as a heavy wall of rain was moving up the valley, engulfing camp and heading my direction.  Not the best time to be on steep, exposed scree.  I followed the base of the ridges, avoiding the water filled tussocks and re entered the spruce band further down river, again stuffing my face with blueberries.  The rain hit me in the spruce and didn't let up till I was nearly back at camp.  All I wanted to do was strip off my cloths and climb under my warm covers and sleep.

It rained fiercely on and off that evening and grey skies followed in the morning.  Gwen and I headed out in the morning to collect water samples, check the weather station, and take depth-to-permafrost measurements near the tributary mouth.  Due to the increment weather, putting off the alpine plots seemed like a good idea, giving us time to head up the Aggie River for some sight seeing.  After about an hour, we turned a large corner and the river began to open up, exposing higher mountains, a few with snow between their saddles.  It was interesting too see how quickly the landscape changed after only about two hours upriver from our camp.  The trees were thicker, the mountains began to grow taller, and the valleys more open.  Again, rain sped up the valley catching us about 2 hours from camp and spit on us the rest of the way back.  Hot food and warm covers again were the cure.  

More rain and more time tent bound the next day.  We were beginning to run short on time but decided to wait on the alpine plots one more day.  It is very exposed at those sights and you do not want to be caught in high winds and pouring rain.  The temperature drops and clouds can roll in, cutting visibility and making it hard to locate the study plots.  Later on in the evening, like clock work however, the skies cleared and the sun further clearer the sky of clouds.  I needed to stretch my legs from spending another day confined to my tent, so I hiked a steep ridge to a small peak named the Pygmy by other groups who have visited the gravel bar.  I got there right as the sun began to set.  With a snack of trail mix Nutella on tortillas, I sat and enjoyed the sight.  As the sun dipped below the hills, the temperature dropped immediately and as midnight approached, it was time to head back down to camp. 

Finally, Gwen and I had no choice but to trek up to the alpine plots.  Due to the pattern of weather clearing around 7 pm, we waited to leave until noon, hopping the rain would let up.  It did, suckering us into starting up and then punished us severely by pouring harder than it had all week.  We got soaked and emerged onto the high ridges in heavy winds.  Fortunately, the clouds cleared just enough for the rain to stop, and only the gps leading us to wrong locations kept us from finding the plots.  We finally found them by walking in ever widening circles from the gps points.  The view eased some of the frustration and after about two hours and a quick lunch, we were ready to start back down.  The alpine makes for a long day, about two hours up, two hours there, and two hours down, and reaching camp I was hungry and ready for dry clothing and a dry tent.  

Our final day on the Aggie, was spent returning to the lines I had investigated earlier in the trip.  This time, rain didn't prevent me from going further, and Gwen and I traversed up the steep ridges, gaining access to the upper reaches.  Ever peaky, once crested, led to a higher crest via steep scree ridges.  After a few hours, we came to the last peak in the chain before the scree dropped steeply to the valley below.  Panoramic views were in ever direction and we sat to eat our lunches on an isolated patch of grass.  The week was filled with rain and cold, but the Aggie seemed to acknowledge our patience with sun and some of the best views of the summer.  

thanks for the photo Gwen.

On a slightly sadder note, during one of our morning check-ins, Susan informed us that Sonny had suffered broken his arm, suffering a compound fracture.  He was nailing plywood up on fish racks at the culture camp, lost his balance and landed awkwardly on the ground below.  The bones pierced the skin, driving into the mud.  He was able to make a call for assistance and was quickly boated out and flown to Anchorage for surgery.  He's doing fine but unfortunately will be out of commotion for the remainder of my Selawik trips.  Could have been worse and glade he's o.k.