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.

Bear Spray and Small Spaces DO NOT Mix

I know, a little dramatic with the title, but hear me out. Two days before Gwen and I were to depart for Selawik for another round of sampling, a rogue bear that has been looting cabins up and down Selawik River finally made its way to the Kugarock Cabin, OUR cabin.  Perhaps the fifth or sixth cabin this bear has visited, he (or she) has become pretty proficient in getting in, getting the food, and making a general mess of things.  Entering through a large, double-paned picture window located six feet off the ground, it bee-lined for the food shelf, helping itself to a smogaspored of packaged tuna, fermented maple syrup, and various other goodies before chomping down on a can of spray foam insulation and then a can of bear spray.  This sent him scurrying pretty quickly back to from whence he came.  The cabin was discovered by a few locals on a hunting trip, who upon peering into the torn off wall, got a healthy blast of residual bear spray so potent their eyes promptly became a watery burning mess.  Bloody bear prints were all over the cabin, shelves were torn from the wall, siding was torn off in multiple locations, and the rogue bear was again on the loose.  Recognizable only by its new Santa Claus style spray foam beard.  One funny scene when we arrived at the cabin was that the bear's nose prints were still littered across windows.  Just like a dog looking at a squirrel outside.    

Sonny, along with Tina and Shawn, were able to clean up most of the cabin, boarding up the gaping window and wiping away the bloody prints.  But, they did NOT manage to remove all the bear spray residue.  A fact made very obvious with every surface we touched on the food shelf.  Which migrated itself to every food item packaging.  A burning tingle of the fingers, a wonderful sensation on an itched eye.  Extra care had to be taken when going to the bathroom so as not to have the worst happen.  We had considered not going to the cabin following the bear attack, but Sonny had brought his big gun, and really there is no better or more tranquil place to work.  Fortunately, the weather was again beautiful, allowing for a lot of data entry and filtering to be done outside.

To top off the bear break-in, multiple tundra fires had sprung up in the area from a thunderstorm that rolled had recently rolled through.  But, nothing too serious.  Storms continued to roll across the tundra but miraculously swept by, avoiding the cabin and treating us to a display.  The storms did produced some spectacular sunsets and sunrises, both of which were made further prominent by actual darkness coming back to the Arctic Circle.  It is strange how perpetual light begins as an adjustment, then turns into the norm.  When dark does return, it is disorienting to say the least.  No longer can you wake up at any time and be greeted with plenty of light to read your book before you drift back to sleep. 

The week passed quickly at Kugerock Cabin, and on Sunday we headed back down river.  Not before Gwen and I squeezed in a quick morning paddle however on the perfectly tranquil waters.  Upon arriving back in the village, we became aware that everyone was wondering where we were.  Somehow, it had spread that we were due back in the village on Saturday, prompting many phone calls between everyone at the Fish and Wildlife office, Joe and Della, and others.  Gwen and I are still not sure how this miscommunication happened but everyone we bumped into in Selawik village apparently thought we were missing and was happy to see us back.  When I got to the airport, Della was bombarded with questions about if the Fish and Wildlife people had returned.  She promptly pointed to me riding on the back of her ATV, only to have everyone tell me they thought we had been gotten by the bear.  A search party I am sure would have been mounted if we hadn't returned Sunday morning.  Kidding aside, it is nice to know that people are looking out for us.  Many of whom we barely know or have only become friendly with since June.  This knowledge made me feel I had become part of the Selawik community, if only just slightly so.  

Dinner Parties On The Aggie

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.

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.  

Selawik Rain Or Shine

Rain.  Rain taking off in Kotzebue.  Rainy skies when landing in Selawik.  Wind and rain traveling to the lower stations.  Rain on the way upriver to the cabin.  Delightful weather for the next round in Selawik.  Gwen and I had an extra traveler this trip as Bill, the new Biologist hired by Fish and Wildlife tagged along.  Though he is "new", he's been around the Selawik block plenty and has been working in the field for over a decade.  He brought the rainy weather with him.  All his fault.  Thanks Bill.

Since I have a lot to cover and am behind, this is going to be a greatest hits from the past two Selawik trips.  Twice the fun, half the reading, what could be better right?

Lets get back to the rain and cold.  I consider myself to be battle hardened from my past few months in Alaska but I was COLD this trip.  Wet and cold constantly.  Even with the gumbie suits, the rain stung my exposed face like needles and soaked through my twenty layers of clothing.  At one point, Bill was shaking so badly that he could barely hold a sample bottle.  Take home message, Alaska can spank you anytime with weather and it put me back in my place.  Reminding me of the softy I truly still am.  Sorry I doubted you Alaska.

To give you an idea how high the water was this week, the dock to the left typically extends about 25 feet past where the water mark is.  Also, water height is usually two feet below the  dock's deck.  Many communities along the Selawik and Kobuk Rivers were under flood warning.  The rains would not relent however as following the storm, a low pressure system was waiting for its turn to swell the rivers further.  

Gwen and I were happy to be back in Kotzebue following the wet and rainy Selewik trip.  Bill did treat us to pizza, my first time eating out in months, so his bringing of rain was forgiven.  

The next week was spent in Kotzebue catching up on work, sample processing, data analysis, and preparation for our marathon month of field work in August.  I did have time to squeeze some walks in and spent time down on the rocky coast of Kotzebue and walking the circle road outside of town.  A nice break from the typical schedule.

Gwen and I arrived back in Selawik under much better weather.  As proof Bill brought the rain, he and the Fish and Wildlife staff went on a float trip and were rained on the whole week.  No Bill equals no rain.  Sorry Bill.

Sonny has been letting me drive the boat more often and now basically pulls the boat up to the dock, picks us up and then moves promptly to the passenger side of the boat with his coffee in hand.  No napping though.  He constantly scans the banks and eroded areas for Mammoth tusks exposed by the high water and cut bank areas.  Finding a good piece can garner anywhere from a few hundred to a few thousand dollars so it's worth his time.  Unfortunately, no tusks this time.  

We did get another treat, tundra at dusk.  Since the summer solstice, darkness has been gaining nearly 15 minutes per day.

This photo was taken around two in the morning from the little deck behind the cabin.  Now, imagine this going on for about three hours and you have the Alaska nights this time of year.  Not too bad if you ask me, in fact spectacular.  Perpetual sunset.

Berry season is in full swimng along the Selawik, with blueberries and crowberries being the major berries around the cabin.  I managed to squeeze in some berry picking time and meant to pick into a bag full, but somehow the berries went from the bush, to my hand, to my mouth  instead of the bucket.  Oops.  To the left is a handful of crowberries before I shoved them into my mouth. 

Now into August, only two more Selawik trips remain for Gwen and I.  But, I managed to pull a fast one on Bob and get him thinking I do good work so he's keeping me around till October.  Got ya Bob.  

Agashashok River, Noatak National Preserve (7/7 to 7/12)

After 4th of July in Selawik, took a few days in Kotzebue to catch up on sample processing, data entry, and prepare for the next trip out to the Asik Watershed on Agashashok River.  I'm starting to get used to the constant flip flop of locations, packing of bags, and tracking down of gear.

After landing in Kotzebue from Selawik, Gwen and I noticed that our flow meter was nowhere to be found.  Not familiar with flow meters?  I'll explain.  An adjustable pole has a small impeller on the end, which when pointed upstream is spun by the moving current.  As the impeller spins, each spin iscounted and displayed on a screens, allowing flow in a given river to be measured.  

So, back to where it actually went.  In Selawik, the meter was packed into the airplane's rearback compartment along with the tail prop.  Freight isn't typically placed there which resulted in the meter remaining on the plane as it traversed all over Alaska.  The meter was in Anchorage when finally it got tracked down and was sent back to Kotzebue.  Upon reaching Kotzebue, the meter was sent to every office except Fish and Wildlife.  Many calls and an interesting email chain later, the meter was back in our hands.  What a mess.

With the flow meter on it's own adventurer, Gwen and I boarded a bush plane and trekked out to our study site, arriving later in the evening.  After setting up camp, we took a hike up to a tundra ridge, and then followed the ridge line up to a small peak.

Bears are always on the mind when hiking but admittedly, my vigilance has wained a little.  That changed on this hike.  I was ahead of Gwen,  about to crest a tundra ridge when I noticed a bear running for the woods about 400 ft away.  As soon as it hit the tree line, it turned, sat, and sniffed the air to see who was coming.  I stopped in my tracks, said, "Hey Bear!" calmly a few times before Gwen got to where I was.  Gwen noticed another, much darker Grizzly to the right tucked further back into the trees.  We watched the bears. The bears watched us.  A curiosity standoff.  Gwen and I slowly backed away to give the bears space and continued to talk loudly but calmly.  The bears seemed to be waving to us as we backed off, standing up on their haunches and gently pawing at the air.  After a minute or two, they nonchalantly sauntered deep into the trees. 

Following our bear hike, had a warm dinner and hit it early.  Most of our time this trip would be dedicated to taking tree cores, reestablishing study plots, and taking tree measurements.  In theory, these tasks are simple and shouldn't take much time.

Reestablishing plots involves; 1) finding the tree with a location tag called the reference tree, 2) surveying the area around the plot to determine if any old stakes can be located, and 3) measuring a 20 m by 20 m square around the reference tree.  If all the trees were clearly marked, thick vegetation wasn't present, and triangulating produced perfect squares everytime, this task would have taken a few hours.  But, a whole day later, only three plots got completed.  With nerves more than a little fried, Gwen and I were frustrated and spent.  A perfect time for a side trip hike that turned into a 2 hour diversion.  Each time a crest was reached, it was, "Well, it looks to be only a few more minutes to the next one.  Want to see what's over it?"  This philosophy brought us to a weather station I'm sure people have forgotten about and a great view of the Agashashok River.  Plus, tensions are eased by a steep hike and beautiful views.  

The final full work day in the Noatak was dedicated to collecting water samples, taking tree cores, and tree diameter measurements on as many plots as possible.  Around lunch, things began to get dark and a storm began rolling through.

Thunder bellowed but lightning never followed.  The view from the ridge down into the valley was spectacular.  A drastic change from the blue sky view of only a day ago.  Good weather luck ran out and we paid for it.  Rain came down lightly at first and then picked up to a steady and hard rain.  Not a downpour, but still got soaked to the bone.  Did not have a dry spot on my body.  After the rain had subsided, any mosquitoes in hiding came out and were just brutal.  Pigpen from Charlie Brown, his dust cloud that encircles his every movement, that was Gwen and I but with mosquitoes.  That really put me over the edge.  The first time I can say I have been miserable on this trip.  Everything soaking, wet feet being torn up from hiking, mosquitoes so thick their hum is deafening, just too much.  I got back to camp, went right to my tent, removed all my clothes and just brooded under the covers until I was warm again.  An Oreo instant cake mix helped ease my pain too.  

From this point on in the trip, weather never got any better.  From the rain storm, the Aggy river had come up so much that the inflatable raft had to be blown up to reach sites on the opposite bank.  Probably a 2 to 3 foot rise in under 12 hours.  On my way back over to check the weather station, I did see a rainbow low on the tree line but still visible.

Rain broke enough to pack up camp, but our pick up arrived late and the rain came back through.  We hurried to cover things with tarps and as the rain began to fall, I hurriedly set my tent up to give us some shelter.  There we waited until Jared (Bearing Air) pilot was able to swoop down and pluck us out.  Never have I been happier for a warm shower and big stack of pancakes.  Yep, hot coffee and pancakes for dinner.