As I mentioned in a previous post, Nature and I really click. One of the items on my list took a while to engineer, but I never doubted that I'd achieve it. Finding a way to live out in the Alaska wilderness just took some perseverance. Now, this isn't the same kind of hairbrained adventure that young Chris McCandless undertook. His formula pretty well guaranteed that he'd run into trouble. As you might gather from my story about hiking the Continental Divide, big adventures don't scare me. I love 'em. But, research and planning make all the difference.
I was working in a hunting camp south of Jackson Hole. Hunters came there to mostly hunt elk, moose and mule deer. Most of the hunters came from across the 48 contiguous states. But, during one of the hunts, a man and his wife from Glennallen, Alaska came to hunt the elk and mulies. Heavens knows the moose in Alaska were huge compared to Wyoming moose, so Alaska hunters mainly came for the two critters they couldn't find in any size or quantity up there. As is wont to happen in hunting camps, folks become friends and find out a lot about each other. Well, once I got to know the Alaska couple, I said that I'd really love to go up there and live in the wilderness and maybe do the same kind of work I was then doing. It just so happened that these folks knew an old codger who had a hunting camp in a spectacular part of Alaska. They said they saw him every once in a while, and they would mention to him that they had met someone who might like to talk with him about a job.
Well, heck, you know how those things go. After a few months I forgot about the conversation. In the middle of the following winter I received a post card from the Alaska guide that the couple had told me about. He said that he understood I had some of the skills he was looking for and asked me to write him about what I could do. We exchanged a couple of letters and then he told me to meet him on a certain day in a small town in eastern Alaska. He'd pick me up and then fly me out to his camp. I had the job.
So, on May 29th, the appointed day, having made the journey from Wyoming to Alaska, I was right where he told me to be. I had a trunk, a duffel bag and my hunting rifle with me. He appeared, introduced himself, told me to get my gear into his car and off we drove for Chitina, where he kept his two airplanes. There he piled me and my gear into a Super Cub and off we went into the wild blue yonder.
Now, you talk about spectacular mountain scenery! For about and hour and a half we flew over some of the most beautiful and remote land anywhere on earth. At one point, we were winging our way through a pass that had vertical walls that must have been 1,500 ft. high. And then suddenly we popped out of the canyon, flew over the tail of a medium sized glacier, and found ourselves in a broad river valley. My new boss began to lose altitude. He pointed ahead at an island to one side of the river bar and said, "there's your new home."
The Cub came to a stop at the end of a dirt landing strip on the river's shore not far from the island. There was a small channel of watewr running between us and the island. Most of the river was on the other side of the island. We lugged my gear across a small plank bridge and found ourselves at the end of a clearing amidst towering spruce trees. A barn and corral were to our left. Several log cabins dotted the clearing. We headed for a two-story cabin in the center of things.
My digs were on the second floor of what I learned we called the "main cabin". Later I learned that this cabin had been built by a Colorado gold mining outfit in the early 1900's. The cabin logs were massive - maybe 20-24" in diameter, and the cabin had sunk 6-8" into the ground over the years.
As soon as I was settled, my new boss showed me around the place before dinner. The next morning, we were up early. We had a quick breakfast, and then we got back into the Piper. He flew me around the valley showing me where the horses normally could be found and giving me the general lay of the land. After about an hour's flight, he landed. He kept the plane running and told me to go ahead and get out. He said he had things to tend to in town and would see me in a few weeks. With that, he revved up the engine, taxied to the end of the strip, turned the Super Cub around, gunned the engine and disappeared into the air in a cloud of dust. So much for the honeymoon.
This place became home for me, and I enjoyed every minute that I spent there. During the few months of hunting season, the camp was bustling with activity. The rest of the year, it was my solo domain. Of all the months I spent there alone with no way to contact the outside world, I always felt secure and never anxious. I learned every day and experienced some things that were, to say the least, unique.
A passage from my journal reads:
January 12: -23 degrees F.
"It's good to get back outside after our second cold snap when the mercury nearly hit -70 degrees F! (-57 degrees celcius) ... temperatures in the -20's are not considered cold ...."
I was working in a hunting camp south of Jackson Hole. Hunters came there to mostly hunt elk, moose and mule deer. Most of the hunters came from across the 48 contiguous states. But, during one of the hunts, a man and his wife from Glennallen, Alaska came to hunt the elk and mulies. Heavens knows the moose in Alaska were huge compared to Wyoming moose, so Alaska hunters mainly came for the two critters they couldn't find in any size or quantity up there. As is wont to happen in hunting camps, folks become friends and find out a lot about each other. Well, once I got to know the Alaska couple, I said that I'd really love to go up there and live in the wilderness and maybe do the same kind of work I was then doing. It just so happened that these folks knew an old codger who had a hunting camp in a spectacular part of Alaska. They said they saw him every once in a while, and they would mention to him that they had met someone who might like to talk with him about a job.Well, heck, you know how those things go. After a few months I forgot about the conversation. In the middle of the following winter I received a post card from the Alaska guide that the couple had told me about. He said that he understood I had some of the skills he was looking for and asked me to write him about what I could do. We exchanged a couple of letters and then he told me to meet him on a certain day in a small town in eastern Alaska. He'd pick me up and then fly me out to his camp. I had the job.
So, on May 29th, the appointed day, having made the journey from Wyoming to Alaska, I was right where he told me to be. I had a trunk, a duffel bag and my hunting rifle with me. He appeared, introduced himself, told me to get my gear into his car and off we drove for Chitina, where he kept his two airplanes. There he piled me and my gear into a Super Cub and off we went into the wild blue yonder.
Now, you talk about spectacular mountain scenery! For about and hour and a half we flew over some of the most beautiful and remote land anywhere on earth. At one point, we were winging our way through a pass that had vertical walls that must have been 1,500 ft. high. And then suddenly we popped out of the canyon, flew over the tail of a medium sized glacier, and found ourselves in a broad river valley. My new boss began to lose altitude. He pointed ahead at an island to one side of the river bar and said, "there's your new home."
The Cub came to a stop at the end of a dirt landing strip on the river's shore not far from the island. There was a small channel of watewr running between us and the island. Most of the river was on the other side of the island. We lugged my gear across a small plank bridge and found ourselves at the end of a clearing amidst towering spruce trees. A barn and corral were to our left. Several log cabins dotted the clearing. We headed for a two-story cabin in the center of things.
My digs were on the second floor of what I learned we called the "main cabin". Later I learned that this cabin had been built by a Colorado gold mining outfit in the early 1900's. The cabin logs were massive - maybe 20-24" in diameter, and the cabin had sunk 6-8" into the ground over the years.As soon as I was settled, my new boss showed me around the place before dinner. The next morning, we were up early. We had a quick breakfast, and then we got back into the Piper. He flew me around the valley showing me where the horses normally could be found and giving me the general lay of the land. After about an hour's flight, he landed. He kept the plane running and told me to go ahead and get out. He said he had things to tend to in town and would see me in a few weeks. With that, he revved up the engine, taxied to the end of the strip, turned the Super Cub around, gunned the engine and disappeared into the air in a cloud of dust. So much for the honeymoon.
This place became home for me, and I enjoyed every minute that I spent there. During the few months of hunting season, the camp was bustling with activity. The rest of the year, it was my solo domain. Of all the months I spent there alone with no way to contact the outside world, I always felt secure and never anxious. I learned every day and experienced some things that were, to say the least, unique.
A passage from my journal reads:
January 12: -23 degrees F.
"It's good to get back outside after our second cold snap when the mercury nearly hit -70 degrees F! (-57 degrees celcius) ... temperatures in the -20's are not considered cold ...."
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