Who bend their swords into plow-shares will plow for those who don't

Yesterday morning I was all ready for work. I just needed to fill my Nalgene and put my lunch in the truck. I stepped outside and was at the door of the truck when I saw one of the professional photographers on the road at the base of my driveway. He's whisper-shouting at me that there are wolves in my driveway. But I can see that I'm in my driveway. Just me and my truck. I think he meant there just recently had been wolves in my driveway.

Then, over by my flagpole, I see the bushes are moving. There's something in there and it's not one of the almost ever present bunny horde. And where are all the bunnies? The snowshoe hare are at the very peak of their population cycle and there are always at least a few gnawing on my porch or hopping around the driveway at all hours of the day. They were surprisingly absent. And the bushes are moving. Maybe the pro pho is on to something.

I retreat, with my water bottle, to the porch. I watch as four wolf pups run past me. One had a snowshoe hare in it's mouth. They were circling all around my yard snarling at each other over the dead bunny. They were the kind of snarls that reminded me these were wolves, not dogs. I've never heard a dog snarl like that. And these guys are puppies! Although, they are getting pretty big.

I went back in the house, uncomfortable being within 25 yards of the wolves because, let's face it, that's breaking the law and I'm a Ranger. Nevermind I was standing on my own porch.

I fill up my Nalgene and collect my lunch. I lock my door and head back to the truck. Surely, they're gone by now. But as I'm standing at the passenger door, there's a wolf. It was about 20 feet away. I shut the door and walk away from it, around the front of my truck. And there's another one... about 8 feet away. I had to shoo it off to get into my truck. I was already late calling in service because I'd been waiting for them to leave. I sat in my truck, safely, legally, separated from the swarm of wildlife.

What a way to start my day!

Near the end of my last work week the weather changed from rainy, snowy, mucky, to sunny and clear with views of the mountain every morning. I resolved that if the weather held, I would walk out my front door and into the wilderness. I spend so much time in my truck and I drive by all these wonderfully enticing places. Drainages and canyons that beckon to me. What is around the corner? What's on the other side of that ridge? Looking at a topo map doesn't sate my curiosity.

When Thursday dawned bright and fabulous I went through the usual rigamarole with the backcountry office (there are NO benefits to being a Ranger here when it comes to getting a backcountry permit). But by 1130 I was walking down the Toklat river bar. South this time, upriver. Unit 10 is a beautiful place. I was drawn to it for a couple reasons. One, I don't have to hop on a bus to get to it (I'd been hoping for an early start). And there are three glaciers at the end of the unit. The Toklat river breaks into three sections which lead to the glaciers. I thought I'd just tramp my way out to one.

I walked down the western most branch of the Toklat. I noticed that the river seemed kind of high after day after day after day of torrential downpours. I dreaded having to cross it, but I knew that eventually I'd probably have to. At one point the river ran right up to a steep hill. There was no river bank to walk on. So I bushwhacked up the steep hill and traversed it until I came to a drainage that I could hike down.

Another time, the river flowed next to a cliff that looked like it might be passable if I could climb over the first little bit. I dropped the pack to do the scouting (it was a scramble) and to see if there was hikable land on the other side. There was, but I had to lower the pack over one section and I bruised my knees and shins in the climb.

A third time, I was happily hiking along a section of the river bank that was about 6 feet above the river. There was a narrowish flat section and then a steep hillside. I was on the flat section when I saw a bear on the hill. A grizzly, of course. I stopped and thought about my choices. I looked at the river. It's the color of hot chocolate, so judging it's depth is tricky. Crossing in that spot would have involved jumping into the raging river from the elevated river bank. Not how I like to start my crossings. I looked at my intended route and, though I am no judge of distances, even I could see that if I kept going the way I was going, I would soon be within 300 yards of the grizzly. I could backtrack, but I hadn't seen any better places to cross the river. I looked at the bear. It was ravenously gobbling up whatever was there on the hillside. It hadn't stopped to look at me, although I'm sure it knew I was there. I thought about trying to chase it away so I could keep going legally (you're supposed to stay 300 yards away from bears). But there it was, trying to put on fat for the winter and who am I to disturb it? So I carried on, with one eye trained on the gobbling ursine. I walked by it without incident, and only a little guilt. It never did cease it's rush to eat.

This was my campsite for the first night. I got there around 1730 hrs. Can you make out my tiny tent? All the gravel in the foreground is the river bar where I was making dinner. With all the steep hillsides around, my one slice of flat tundra was a perfect place to set up camp.

While making dinner, a caribou cow and calf wandered down the river and stopped to eat nearby. They didn't mind me at all.

In the morning while I was making breakfast, I watched another grizzly (or maybe the same one). It was on the next hillside over from my tent. There was another tent on the hill, but no people were around. They were probably waiting for the bear to go away.

I decided to leave my camp there and head to the glacier (another mile and a half) for a day hike. I didn't get far before I was thwarted by cliffs. This time it was get wet or go home. There was no getting over those mountains. I've come a long way from my 1997 incident where I went for an unintentional swim during a river crossing, but I'm still very leery and cautious. Since 1997 though, I have done a fair bit of white water kayaking, so I'm a little better at reading the river. If I look at a section and say, "That would be great in a kayak!" I know it's not a good place to go on foot. If I look at a section and it looks to shallow or rocky for a kayak, I know it might be doable on foot.

I really wanted to get the glacier. I could see it, all covered in gravel, black and cold. So I tried at a place that would've been so-so in a kayak. When two steps in took me up to mid thigh, I turned around (more than a couple steps and I'd have been to far in to turn around). I went back to camp. On the way, I saw two bears on the hill above my tent. I was starting to feel a little crowded so I looked for and found a place to cross the river. In case you're wondering why I didn't then go to the glacier, there was an impassable scree slope on that side upriver from my crossing spot.

The way across wasn't bad. I said a little prayer, put my camera in a plastic bag and packed away my hat and sunglasses. I fully intended on going for a swim and washing ashore at some point downstream. But the water didn't get higher than mid thigh and I took it slow with my two trekking poles guiding my feet. My gators did a surprisingly good job of keeping my shins from feeling like blocks of ice.

For those of you who don't know about fording rivers in the last frontier... Don't try it barefoot to keep your boots dry. It wouldn't work. Your feet would numb before you were three steps in and then you wouldn't be able to feel your steps. And there's no way you would have enough traction on the rocky bottom to go in bare feet or even sandals. Boot are a must. And I keep my socks on to. Because what's the point of taking them off? I'd just put them into wet boots and then they'd be soaked. I normally just slosh around until I make camp (the water gets warm in there with my feet). There are exceptions, however. I found a lovely field of squishy, tangy smelling tundra. I flopped down on my Z rest and took my boots off to enjoy the sunshine and the view. And so my feet wouldn't be prunes for the rest of the day. But it is really uncomfortable to put wet socks and wet boots back on.

Look at that view, eh? That's North, the way I'd come the day before.

And here's a picture I took of the river, so you get an idea.

So after my successful journey across the western branch of the Toklat, I crossed the two eastern forks to. They were easier, since they were split up a little more. Then I hiked North, downriver, but on the opposite side. I found a cute little hill to scale for the view. I set up camp at the top of the hill and then realized I could see Toklat. The buses on the road were the size of freckles, but I was still technically, camped within sight of the road. So I packed the tent and descended, after taking a picture of the view.

I found a lovely spot to camp closer to clear water (filtering that silty stuff would kill my filter) and hidden from the distant road (can't even see it if you zoom in on the picture).

I read in my tent for a couple hours. I brought a book I got in Kathmandu about Tibetans. It was interesting, but I was asleep by 2100 or so. At 0600 I peeked out the tent and saw clouds so I went back to bed, hoping the weather would be better if I slept on it. Amazingly, I didn't wake again until 0930! I never sleep in like that while I'm camping!

When I finally made my way to my stash of food (in bear country we use Bear Resistant Food Containers, BRFCs, and store them at least 100 yards from camp and 100 yards from where you cooked. Since I'm a bad judge of distance, mine is always much farther away) I found that someone had been there before me. My BRFC, fuel can, and mesh bag with my cook set had all been knocked over. I wasn't worried about the BRFC. I hurriedly checked my fuel can for teeth holes. None. Phew! My dishes suffered the only casualties. The mesh bag was ripped, one small hole. And one of the pot handles had been delicately pried off. No parky squirrel could've mangled the metal with such ease. It was a bear. I was surprised it stopped short of tearing my pots apart. I mean, I'd rinsed them in the river and used the silt to scrub them clean, but they still must've stunk like Backpackers Pantry Black Bean Tamale Pie (which may sound appetizing, but had a similar affect on my poor intestines as an MRE).

I saw a bear on the other side of the river that morning as I was making oatmeal. I was pretty sure it was the same bear and I wondered if he worried about crossing the river. I decided that he probably didn't.

I also saw a bunch of caribou while I was eating breakfast. Of course, I'd left my camera at my tent that ONE time. So I stuffed my food back in the BRFC and dashed for the camera. The caribou looked at me curiously, and 4 of the 6 came towards me.

I don't know how far away they were, but I didn't zoom in very much. 25 yards is the legal viewing distances for anything other than grizzlies, so I was OK.

I watched them prance across the river, barely getting their bellies wet, while I ate my oatmeal and drank my hot chocolate. I was impressed despite myself. They seem so dumb when they run down the road with the buses behind them. How their little minds must spin as they wonder why the loud, stinky buses won't stop following them. Do they see my attempts at crossing the river and think me stupid to?

That last day I hiked North a short distance to the back of Divide mountain. There's a short little pass, just up to 4,000 feet, behind the mountain. I could've just gone straight back home, but I wanted to check out the back side of Divide. Toklat's at 3,000 feet and I don't think I was much higher. I checked the GPS at the top of the pass and I was at 4,050 feet or so. It looked like Scotland when the peaks were out of sight. Just rolling, grassy slopes once I got to the top. Pools of stagnant water in the soggy tundra that turned into a stream going down a drainage that was my exit. Back down to the river bar I went (Divide is so named because it's between two river bars, both parts of the Toklat river). More river crossings awaited me, but they were easy this time. Except for when I banged my knee on the underwater bank and stuck my arm in the river to catch myself... I popped out on the park road a couple miles east of my house. Walking on the road with my big pack tuckered me out much more than slogging up passes, down drainages, and across endlessly wide river bars. After I'd gone a mile a bus finally came my way and I rode the last mile home.

It was a fantastic trip! I think my wildlife count came to 6 grizzlies (although some of them may have been the same bears that I saw more than once) and 9 caribou. I saw a golden eagle, had my tent and trekking poles chewed on by those pesky parky squirrels, and caught glimpses of those bright yellow warblers in the buses. I saw the bear berry turning red for autumn and ate blueberries whenever I stopped to rest. I didn't get rained on at all (just that second night. I think I heard rain on my tent). I even came back with a sunburn!