In the gorge and stranded--almost directly across from a creek that gushes off the mountain on the left, forming a roaring waterfall. My boat is on the bank in the rocks and my tent 100 yards upstream on a sandbar. This has been a day! I want all kayakers to read my words well! The Alsek gorge is unpaddlable! Unbelievable. After carefully scouting the rapids, I found it's twice as bad as it looks. There's one huge horrendous mile of hair (the worst foamy rapids a kayaker can imagine), 30 feet wide, 50,000 cubic feet per second, and a 20-degree downgrade going like hell. Incredible! I didn't flip in that mile or I wouldn't be writing. But to go back:
On entering the canyon I paddled bravely past the last portage on the right and into the gorge. The river narrows from a half mile to 100 feet. I suddenly felt trapped and committed. Stopped on the left after maybe a quarter of a mile and had trouble getting out on the narrow ledge with my long paddle, so I tossed it to a higher shelf where it lodged. Soon found myself in difficulty with the tricky currents and nearly flipped getting out of the kayak, which would have forced me to swim the entire gorge. Once in the water there would have been no way to regain the shore. A swimmer couldn't fight the current and would be swept downriver. Tried to abandon my plans to make a stop but couldn't reach my paddle so struggled out and lifted the boat to the safety of the ledge.
After scouting, I ran the first mile of rapids with tremendous respect--found myself upside down twice. Rolled up easily. Slammed into the cliff once and was pinned there for a lifetime on a tight turn but worked the boat forward and free with my hands-you have to hold the paddle in one and push off the cliff with the other. I'd abandoned the gloves.
"I was almost euphoric in my survival and so thrilled I had not had to portage after all..."
Stopped again on the left, this time easily, and scouted for over a mile to a huge 45-degree drop of 30 feet or more into a boiling hell. After looking it over carefully, I decided to carry the kayak on the left. There was a seemingly easy stop and only a 100-yard portage to miss the drop. There are huge icebergs that have calved off Tweedsmuir Glacier and are running with me in the gorge. I have already hit two very hard in big water. Boat O.K. and surviving well.
As I paddled down to the portage stop in apparently quiet water, a whirlpool suddenly appeared, my boat was sucked by the stern into a perfectly vertical position, then whirled one and a half times around and plopped in upside down. I rolled up immediately and easily caught the eddy as planned, but in the wrong place. I was going to have to work my way to the extreme lower end of the eddy to get out. This I hoped to do by going along the shoreline, but I found I couldn't because of the terrific current. Consequently, I had to go out into the main current, but I went too far. Suddenly I realized I couldn't make the portage. Now I knew I had to paddle ahead! Just then an iceberg the size of my bedroom appeared alongside, charging for the drop. I hurriedly turned my boat around and paddled upstream with all my strength while sliding backward into the "falls." Missed the iceberg which went ahead, flipped, and hung upside down while the boat was tossed out of the most violent boils before rolling up. Very solid, very confident in my roll--no question of swimming. I was almost euphoric in my survival and so thrilled I had not had to portage after all, for I knew I would soon be out. Stopped and relaxed for five minutes on the shore among the icebergs. Could not check what was ahead because of a cliff, so continued without scouting.
Suddenly, I was in a frothy mess that was far worse than anything I have ever seen. I don't know how far the hair lasted and would not go back to check if I could, but I am sure it was 20 degrees down with the most gigantic waves and foam and holes on all sides of me. Very narrow--like trying to run down a coiled rattler's back, the rattler striking at me from all sides. I was shoved to the left bank about an inch from the cliff where a foot-wide eddy existed. For perhaps a mile I skidded and swirled and turned down this narrow line. I kept telling myself, "You can roll in this," but all the time I knew I couldn't. I expected to get jammed into the cliff but never touched it. Eventually, I squirted out into a pool right side up and safe, only to flip in another whirlpool before reaching shore.
I scouted on the right bank to what I hoped was the end of the gorge, about a mile below me. But I saw an immense cresting wave blocked the way, the one I had seen seven days before from the air. I checked it from a 500-foot cliff and also worked my way down to the very edge of the river. I had found a way out of the deep canyon, but there was no way I could carry my boat or supplies out on the treacherous path.
"I found the boat swamped and uncontrollable in the middle of the river..."
After watching the wave I felt the boat would be toppled before it could climb the crest and be tumbled sideways in the trough. My only exit would be a swim under the wave, which would leave me in the middle of the river heading for some rapids below with little chance of reaching shore. If I did, I would be afoot with no supplies since my empty boat would stay sideways in the wave. I considered abandoning everything and walking to a rescue spot but soon told myself I would eventually paddle the wave if I had to watch it for a week.
So I paddled furiously through the easiest spot to crash the roller, which was well to the right of center, accepting the risk of plummeting into a terrible hole some distance below should I fail to roll up in time. Got my paddle and body through the wave and hung on upside down, feeling my boat tear apart above me. Missed my roll and in fact found I was outside the kayak. My first instinct was to swim to the surface, but instead I snuggled back into the overturned boat. Before I could roll up, the kayak washed into the feared hole. I got scrubbed, tumbled, and shaken; rolled and missed--rolled and missed.
Finally I caught a breath, calmed my nerves, jammed my knees solidly into the sides of the boat and on my sixth try made a perfect roll and popped up. I found the boat swamped and uncontrollable in the middle of the river. Only the air bladders were keeping it afloat. My body was in water to the armpits, and I was heading for a rapids far worse than Lava Falls (the worst rapids of the Grand Canyon). I made a tremendous effort to force the swamped boat to the shore, using all my reserve. Finally I reached the bank holding onto the kayak by a strap, and as I rolled out on the bank I said thanks. I found that I had torn the left thigh hook off the deck, and part of the deck as well. That had popped the spray skirt and swamped me.
Am trying to dry the boat now and fix it in a drizzle. If I can't fix it I will scout the canyon further, and if there is just the rapids to go, I will have to try it crippled. I'm not coming back. Not for $50,000, not for all the tea in China. Read my words well and don't be a fool. It's unpaddlable.
August 25, later
After finishing all my vodka and feeling better, I have the first fiberglass patch on the boat; I've used one-third of the small bottle of resin that I had for such an emergency. Erected my air mattress over the boat repair to prevent its getting wet. My tent is upstream and cozy. Outside it's about 40 degrees. I found wood for my supper fire. I have solved the riddle of this messy gorge. I flew over it when a huge rain upstream had caused it to crest. I can see the mark on the canyon here 10 feet or so above my sandbar and probably 30 feet above the water level at this time. It might be paddlable at crest, but not now. I started into the gorge at 1 P.M. and ended here on shore at 5 P.M. Total running time was probably only 10 minutes.
Slept well after a tranquilizer and a sleeping pill.
August 26
Second patch placed on the boat in the morning and both hardened well even in the cold. Deck solidly fixed by two P.M. so took off--and what a ride! There was a hole 20 feet deep at the top of the run. It was caused by a rock the size of a two-story house that had about a foot of water flowing over it. The current was sweeping by at 35 to 40 mph, and the entire river seemed to gush into the deep hole behind the rock. I'm glad I didn't drop in. I slipped by the edge but spun around and gushed down the chute backward, crushed into the cliff with my stern but didn't flip. I scouted then for two miles and found nothing else. It's a good thing because I'd had enough.
No more excitement left and I'm thankful. I did flip again in a backward vertical hole--flip no. 7. But though the next five miles of gorge were tough--the river here narrowed to 40 feet--it was nothing like the previous.
Am spending the night relaxing at the base of Vernrighe Glacier and glad I'm out. A large gull-like bird came to visit and stood around looking at me. Saw two big grizzlies today and another just now out my back door. I hope he goes by. The bears have not given me any trouble so far. Most of them I've seen from the safety of my kayak and when I shouted at them they would charge to the water's edge and stand erect. It is truly frightening to see an animal that is 10 feet high and as large as a horse growling at you, even when you know he cannot reach you.
August 27
At Dry Bay, the mouth of the Alsek, I can't find the airfield in the dark. Put up tent on huge grizzly tracks. Worn out, so no fire tonight. Nuts, fruit, candy. Today saw grizzly no. 7, a mountain goat, two bald eagles, 15 ducks. The Alsek Glacier was terrific with a whole string of ocean liners (icebergs) coming down the river.
August 28
Early up and found the local "Hilton." Got through on the radio to Layton Bennett, and he will pick me up this evening in a floatplane and take me to Juneau with my kayak strapped outside. A man from the Alaska Department of Fish and Game flew in to interview me regarding the Alsek. He said the gorge is too fast for salmon, even kings, the only huge river known where the speed of the water stops fish. Usually it's a dam or a falls.
I know the area well! Too well. I won't be coming back. Ever.
