We Survived the Train Wreck
Morning dawned with heavily cloudy skies again. We were in a bit of a rush to start our way north as we had to drop Billy off for the second day of fishing I had lined up for him and it was 130 miles north. We preordered breakfast from Conscious Coffee and made our way out of town.
The clouds were heavy as we traveled north but we could see that there were a few breaks happening. We commented that had we been traveling in this proximity to Yellowstone, the traffic would be unbearable but we had barely any company on the roads.
We made one stop, at the Denali Scenic View North, and sure enough, we saw the peak of the mighty mountain again! It was crazy that within a few minutes it disappeared again. Yesterday, Billy’s fishing guide told him he might see the mountain twice a month. I have read statistically that you only have a 20% chance of actually seeing the mountain – seeing as we have seen one of the peaks twice (there is a north and south but I don’t know which one we have been seeing), I think we are doing pretty good!
We met up with Billy’s guide, George – a science teacher that spends the school year in way upstate NY, and his summers guiding in Alaska. We wished them luck, and Jenny and I continued our trek north for our scheduled afternoon whitewater rafting.
About 15 miles into our 30 mile drive, it started to pour, and I mean pour. We watched as the outside temperature gauge dropped from 54 to 44. The wind picked up and as we reached our destination we were trying to reassure ourselves that not only could we handle the cold but we could handle the class IV rapids we were about to undertake (mind you we have only run class II up until this point).
We grabbed some flatbread pizza for lunch, eating it in the car as the restaurant only offered to go, while Jenny chatted with Thies on Facetime. We were laughing with him that Jenny is 0 for 2 in staying in a canoe so we were hoping that was not going to carry over to the raft!
We were going to be rafting the Nenana River, a glacial river that forms from the Nenana Glacier. It runs north, dumping into the Tanana River which runs into the Yukon River, eventually ending up in the Arctic Ocean. It averages a summer temperature of 31.8 degrees – hypothermic inducing in minutes.
Jenny and I were layered well- two pairs of wool socks, leggings under rain pants, moisture wicking base layer followed by three Patagonia layers- capilene, down, and a waterproof shell. We also had on beanie caps and wind blocking Patagonia gloves. We were perfectly toasty inside our dry suits! We watched as people showed up in cotton socks, sweatpants and sweatshirts (there was no wonder they were freezing half way through the float).
We took a quick drive to the input – an absolutely incredible sight to watch as they dropped the boats a few hundred feet down a cliff, our oarsman actually walking them down an almost 90 degree incline!
We received the requisite safety speech and I of course was having second thoughts, especially after the part about making sure if you fall out to get your feet up quickly so they don’t get wedged under the water on anything, but my steady eddie assured me it would all be fine.
Whitewater is graded on an internationally recognized scale by the American Whitewater Association. Rapids are classified on a scale of I-VI; I being very very tame and VI being holy sh@t; commercial operators can only run up to class V – we were going to be hitting a few class IVs – no big deal, right?
We hit the river running and after a few, “Forwards!” was hollered at us paddlers, we were informed that, “our first rapid would be coming up.” Uhm… what the heck were those pretty darn sizable dips we just went through? The ones he was yelling at us to paddle through and that absolutely doused us, I asked. “Those,” he told me, “were just the warm up.” Oh geezus, you must be kidding me.
Jenny turned and said, “Oh boy, the guide in the boat behind us just put on his helmet.” That was the forewarnings what was to come.
We rounded the bend and head first we went into a pretty substantial rapid. The bow paddlers went down hard and then came up and we were all drenched. And so it went – paddle hard, bow down, wave up, paddlers drenched.
Eventually we hit a rapid named Train Wreck that was a bit different. A series of waves that got progressively bigger. At one point I was staring up at a wall of water, we were nearly vertical and I realized I was frantically paddling the air as my oar wasn’t reaching the water. “Oh God. Please! Stay in the boat,” I hollered over to Jenny as we were whipped up and down.
Emerging victorious from the jaws of Train Wreck our guide, Anthony, said that this was the first run of the summer that he basically had an, “Oh shit” moment. He said we hit this rapid harder than he has all summer; the bow went down so deep it launched his ass off the seat where he was in the back of the raft, and he was basically staring straight down at us thinking the front paddler was done for as he lost his foot holds. How he stayed in without having his feet wedged, I have no idea.
The canyon was beautiful and the sunshine was filtering through the clouds, quickly warming everything it touched. Anthony informed us that the trip would end after a few more bends but the rapids were done and so if anyone wanted to be crazy enough to jump in go ahead. And wouldn’t you know, in went Jenny, floating along on her back, peacefully down the river.
The rafting was a blast! We had so much fun. We kept saying we hoped Billy was catching fish because if not, he will be so bummed to have missed out on having so much fun!
We hauled ass north ten miles to check in to our airbnb and let Jenny get into some dry clothes (the neck gaiter on the dry suit must not have been perfectly sealed to her skin as she had some water trickle in). Then headed back south for 40 miles to pick up Billy.
We found him sitting on the porch of George’s house, drinking a beer, overlooking the most gorgeous view. George quickly handed me a beer and told me that Billy had killed it today- he caught over 40 grayling at least. It had been a spectacular day!!! The experience was amazing too he said. They canoed (good thing Jenny wasn’t with them) across some bold water to hike back to some smaller creeks – all the time keeping bear spray in their hand. An epic day for sure!
We left George and headed back north again to make our 8:30 dinner reservation at 49th State Brewing Company, pulling in right on time. The restaurant has the replica bus that was used for filming the movie, “Into the Wild,” the true story about Chris McCandless, a young kid who lived and died out in the Alaskan bush in an abandoned bus he found not too far from where we were sitting. It is Jenny’s favorite book and of course one of her favorite movies – she is drawn to the story, or perhaps the way of life. The real bus was airlifted out a few years back as people were getting hurt and even dying trying to reach it. It is now at a museum in Fairbanks, but the replica is good. It gave Jenny chills to be inside it, she said.
Alaska certainly has that draw, the one that lead Chris here in the first place. It is magnificent and maybe it’s the weather we have encountered that makes it almost hauntingly appealing. Billy already said he could live here, of course he hadn’t experienced winter here. Jenny, I am sure, could van life it here for a long time. I imagine we will return for sure, once retirement rolls around. In the meantime we have a few more days here, to soak up the beauty, and to literally get soaked!
Wandering Amerrickans 