Alaskan Pilgrimage: The Quest for the Magic Bus (Days 5-9)

The next morning we broke fast and camp and then headed back into Healy for some extra food (glad we did that). After scoring a sharpie and some cardboard at the Chevron, we made a sign for the Stampede Trail  and got picked at about noon. They dropped us off where the Stampede Trail turns into a gravel road (it starts as cement, then gravel, then dirt, then a sketchy jeep trail that weaves in and out of creek bed). The guys who gave us a ride tried to dissuade us from going there. They told us of a bunch of rescue missions that happened there. We told them that we might try to cross at the gauging station, which supposedly has a cable across the river. I also told them that I wasn’t going to cross it if it was too sketchy. The wished us luck and we parted ways.

Mountains South of the Stampede Trail

After walking down the dirt road a bit, two guys in a jeep with a company logo pulled over and offered us a ride. They said they would take us several miles down the 18 mile trail and drop us just a couple miles shy of the Savage River, our first crossing. We took them up on their offer and were soon baja-ing through puddles, streams, mud, and around corners while listening to obnoxious rap music. It was pretty fun though, besides hitting my head on the ceiling. Midway through the ride, one of the tires popped and we pulled over to change it. Before long we were back on the road, or rather jolting all over it. The guides told us one of their friends had crossed the Teklanika while filming himself, like it was no big deal.  After our deluxe ride in, we began walking down the mucky trail. It wasn’t long before we realized the vanity of trying to keep our feet and boots dry, so we stopped trying to avoid the puddles and mud and just sloughed through it. The trail frequently does a disappearing act as it intersects beaver ponds and streams, but with the maps and some advice from our free tour guides, we stayed on track. We passed a couple of Asian guys who said that they had made it to the bus. It took an hour or two to get to the Savage, which was just above the knee. Despite the relative shallowness of the river, my heart rate rose as I crossed it. I sensed the power the water carried and worried that the Tek would be much worse. At first, Austin thought that it was the Teklanika, I wasn’t too convinced though. We pressed on and found that it indeed was not.

When we reached the Tek, it did look pretty intimidating, probably 20-30 yards across or more when it was braided (don’t quote me on that, I’m bad at judging distances). We saw a guy on the other side when we got there and Austin found out that he had crossed where he was standing. Austin was all hot to cross right away, whereas I had mentally decided to camp on the nearside this night, survey the river, and cross the next day. I was nervous as I watched him cross, though he was doing okay. However, when he got about 5 or 8 feet from the shore, the river bested him and he started tumbling down, trying to regain control. The guy on the other side ran down the shore with him encouraging him and he eventually stumbled to shore without too much harm. Now it was my turn…

View of the Teklanika from my camp

My fear was not that I couldn’t reach the other side, but that I couldn’t reach the other side with my pack. I feared that if I had my pack on, I risked drowning if the river overpowered me (which it would since it did Austin, who is taller and heavier than me), but if I made it to the other side without my pack, what good would that be? I stripped down to my boxers and boots and began to hesitantly cross, heart and mind racing. When I got up to my mid-thighs and sensed the power of the river, I balked. I would not do it then. I went back and stood on the near shore with legs numb from the silty, glacial water. I told them I would camp on this side that night. Feeling defeated,I went back to set up camp on a hill overlooking the river. I decided that the next day I would search for the gauging station. I spent the remainder of the night finding abandoned items on the river shore, starting a fire, reading, and cooking. I did find a geocache too. I wondered if I would make it the next day — I told myself that unless I found the station, it probably wasn’t worth the risk.

Camp day one

I awoke fairly early the next morning and tried to call out to Austin’s camp and get his attention with firecrackers to let him know I was going to make for the gauging station. Frustrated that I couldn’t get ahold of him, I went back to my camp. Then, to my surprise, he stumbled dripping wet into my camp. He told me that he had found an easier place to cross and that we would tandem cross it together. I was still hesitant, being more willing to dangle over the torrent by a cable than walk in it. Nonetheless, I followed him. The area he showed me had maybe a twenty yard crossing to an island then a 5 yard crossing from that island to the other shore. He told me that the deepest channel was about 5-10 feet from the near shore and that after braving that deep channel, it was a piece of cake. The plan was that he would stand behind me with his hands on my back to brace me and we would cross together. I held a raft paddle I found to use as a third leg too. I tentatively stepped in at the water was at about my shin. I quickly ditched the paddle, as it was no help. As we side stepped across, the water quickly deepened. At one point Austin was bracing me so hard that he almost was pushing me over, I had to yell at him over the roar of the river to cut it out! As the water level approach my belly button, I started to feel the loss of control. I felt my feet being lifted, putting me on my tiptoes. At this point I was very close to backing out, having Austin there and his promise that it would get shallower was the only thing that kept me going.

“Run, just go with it,” Austin shouted.

We broke ranks and ran diagonally with the current as we lost control. Austin fell over, and I lifted him up. Before long, we were thigh deep and then knee deep in the middle of the river–piece of cake at that point. I walked onto the island triumphantly. We saw our friend from across the river cross this place too, he didn’t even stumble. Next order of business was to cross the short channel to the other side — piece of cake I thought. We still tandem crossed it, but I ate it and ended up having to crawl the last few feet to the shore, soaked and shivering. We got across and after celebrating, started a fire to dry out and cook some food. As we were cooking, some Denali park rangers saw us from the other side on their four wheelers. They came to check the depth of the water and we told them our plans. I was relieved that the rangers knew we were out there.

Once we dried out, we began the rest of the trek to the bus. It was no big deal from then on. Don’t get me wrong, it was still tiring, wet, and sloppy, but it wasn’t stressful. After a couple hours, we were both getting tired of walking and I was ravenous. I was expecting the bus to be on a big hilltop or something, but we just rounded a corner and there it was. We surveyed the bus and claimed our beds. The bus was full of writing from other pilgrims from around the States and world. There was also a plaque to Chris in there. It seems that the bus also acts as a gear exchange for those in need. There was an emergency stash of food that we left alone. We took a couple redundant items and left some of our own items. We also took some scrap parts from the bus (which is controversial because some people have taken major parts like the steering wheel and side panels, but we didn’t take anything major, just a couple scraps of metal that no one would notice, I lost mine anyways). The bus was also pretty vandalized, the windows were broken out and the sides were full of bullet holes. I went and gathered some wood for the fire master to make a fire (he is much better than I am at it). We cooked up some mac and cheese with some beef sticks and gorged ourselves — lucky for me Austin doesn’t eat as much as I do, so I was fat and happy. We then drank a toast to Chris and reflected on the journey and Chris’s life.

 

Inside the Bus

 

 

 

 

 

 

RIP Chris

 

The next day we awoke and already had a disagreement on when to leave. Austin, being more lax than I, wanted to leave later in the day. I wanted to beat the rain. Luckily for me, the park rangers showed up on their four wheelers and told us that we indeed needed to get across today before the rain. They also told us that the gauging station was not anchored down, so it would not be an option. We still left later than I would’ve liked, but we got out of there okay. I was lagging a bit on the journey and a bit hungry as we were a little low on food and had to ration it. I was already psyching myself out, “can I cross when I’m still a little hungry?” The constant, but light rain intimidated me too, “How high is the river going to be?” Austin was booking it because he was really cold, he didn’t have rain pants so his legs were perpetually cold (rain gear is a must in Alaska). We got to the river in this nervous state and it was made worse by the increased rain and our confusion about our location. I falsely attributed to peaks that I saw to two peaks on the map and confused both of us. However, Austin pointed out my tent that I had left downstream, so we got a relative idea of where we were. Once again, he was all hot to cross, right where we were but I was for the tried and true crossing. I was worried that he was partly hypothermic in his insistence to cross right away. I had thoughts of drowning, getting stranded, or losing my pack and huddling together under an emergency blanket. Needless to say, I was pretty freaked out. We eventually agreed to find the place we had already crossed though. Before we crossed, I had to yell and shout to psych myself up.

Austin came up with a better tandem strategy too. We could interlock arms, my hand on his shoulder, his on mine, and use that too stabilize ourselves. We would also walk upstream a bit from where we crossed and angle downstream to cut the resistance. We crossed the first channel without much difficulty. Encouraged by this, we took a deep breath and began the bigger crossing. I stomped every step down with determination and spoke things to myself like “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” and “You got it baby, we got this” it actually helped a lot. We made it across without so much as stumbling. When we reached the other side we were both ecstatic. It felt amazing to be on the other side of that river.

We set up camp, not even considering starting a fire in the downpour. We put on what little dry clothes we had and put the wet stuff outside the tent. We took great pains to keep the inside of my little Eureka tent dry, and it did stay relatively dry. I was worried about the temperature but we made it work. I wasn’t worried in vain though, for when we woke up it was to light snowfall, it didn’t stick though.  We both went and looked at the river, and just overnight it became a surging, chocolate brown torrent much angrier than it was previously–we would not have made it across, no chance. Despite the fact that we were in relatively good shape, it was very demoralizing putting on our stiff, frosty boots. As soon as I put them on, I wondered if I would make it out of here without frostbite. In any case, I was more than ready to get out of here. We packed up and hit the trail. Little did we know we had another surprise waiting for us though.

A little distance down the trail we ran into the park rangers at their camp, complete with wall tent and a nice stack of lumber. We asked them how the Savage river was. “Savage,” they responded, “flooded to it’s banks, be ready to hunker down for 2 or 3 more days.” Really? The Savage had never even come into the equation for me. Now were were stuck here again for perhaps another rainy 3 nights (though it wasn’t raining at this point) and we were low on food. We went down the trail to set up camp, dry out, and Austin worked on a fire. Luckily there was some wood left over at the previously occupied camp, though it was wet. Austin worked on that as I went to go reclaim an old cut up air mattress we left at our camp to use as a tarp. I also tried to bum some food off the rangers, but they said that they were on tight rations too. Austin and I had joked how they were probably roasting a big chunk of moose flesh over their fire and feasting, while we were eating a mixture of dried grits and dried mashed potatoes. During this time I was also trying to stalk and stone grouse along the road, but my aim with rocks is horrible. I tried to shoot some bear spray at them too, but I only succeeded at walking into a cloud of it (though not too much). Shortly after I got back Austin got the fire going (after infinite effort and frustration) and we pretty much just sat around drinking coffee and such.

The next day I tracked down the troopers to get the conditions and I learned that the river was already passable. I was very relieved to not be stranded two more days. We packed up and began the mucky trek back. The Savage was no big deal to cross but all the earlier streams and beaver ponds we crossed on the way in were now also swollen. They were crossable, just a pain to cross. The trail was also now much easier to lose. Thankfully we were able to mostly stay on it. After a long trek back, we stopped at a lodge and gorged ourselves on some real food. We trekked the remaining miles into Healy and gorged more at the gas station. We were so gimped up that the gas station lady asked Austin if he had been drinking.  After that we camped right down the road.

It’s funny, in all our individual faults and bad ideas we balanced each other out and made a pretty good team. Though Austin annoyed me at times, I know I wouldn’t have gotten to the bus without him, and am very grateful for him. I’m sure I annoyed him too with my impatience and cautiousness. I now know that it is best to have a partner to hike with, though I still do it alone sometimes. I probably shouldn’t but sometimes I have to. I certainly won’t hike places like that alone though.

“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor. If either of them falls, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to pick them up. Also if two lie down together they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone?” Ecclesiastes 4:9-11

Alaskan Pilgrimage: Fireworks, more Hippies, and a New Quest (Days 3 and 4)

The next day I woke up and my fellow traveler and we cooked up some boxed breakfast delicacies. I, being the impatient person that I am, was eager to get on the road. He decided to stay there a bit longer. On the way out, I stopped at an antique shop and scored a little camping pillow for $2, the exact amount of cash I had in my wallet. After I got to the main road, I stopped at a fire work stand because it seemed right. I bought some “Mystic Fire,” little chemical packets that turn campfires different colours (I like the name too). I was also given some firecrackers. I talked to the cashier a bit about God and then we parted ways. After a bit later, I got picked up by a middle aged woman heading to Talkeetna, about 50 or so miles. She was a nice lady who told me her woes about having a breathalyzer built into her car as the result of getting a DUI.

When I got into Talkeetna (at 4 or so?) I had to catch a shuttle from the local grocery market into town, which was about 14 miles. I went to the hostel and opted to sleep in a VW bug with a bed in it. It was a bit more pricey, but I was a sucker for it. That hippie suite was quite symbolic of Talkeetna, a friendly little hippie town in which probably 90% of the people smoke weed. It also acts as a type of base camp for climbers seeking to master Mt. McKinley. That stoner culture was pretty prevalent at the hostel. I was a bit intimidated about being a minority there, which is stupid because I am a former stoner-type. Anyways, I went into town to get some food to cook and came back and watched Into the Wild with some of the other people. During the movie I said how I had wanted to go to the magic bus and had even posted on Craigslist months before coming to Alaska looking for a partner. I didn’t find a partner on Craigslist though, instead I got a bunch of warning to avoid that trip — therefore I figured I wouldn’t do it unless I found a super experienced partner. It can be a dangerous trip, mostly due to crossing the Teklanika river. That is the river that blocked Chris McCandless from getting out and it is the river that a Swiss woman making the pilgrimage drowned in a few years ago.  However, Austin, a guy living and working in Talkeetna, told me he was down, so that was that. We would leave the next day for Healy, AK. I was excited about this, but unsure about how it would go down. I went back to my VW because I was still a little nervous about mingling in that group for fear that a strong point of disagreement would come about and I would look stupid. I felt like a weenie-ish idiot about that though, because though there are many things I disagree with about that culture, there are many things I have in common and if any such contention came up I think I would be an ideal person to have discussion rather than a Conservative Murrican Christian (God bless their hearts, but they aren’t always the best at relating to certain subcultures).

The next day I would get a chance though. I realized that it was going to be an interesting trip right off the bat because my travel partner was much more laid back than I am and a bit of a stoner. Given that my travels are like little mission trips, I thought there might be some conflict. We soon got on spiritual topics though and that was a relief. He talked about how he thought that things were supposed to happen in certain ways. I, of course, agreed — I shared how I had waited to leave Seward, how I met the homeless guy in Anchorage who diverted my travel plans, and how I now was en route on a trip I had really wanted to do but didn’t think I would do. I talked to him about the leading of the Spirit. We had a big stoner-metaphysical-theological conversation with each other and some other people at the park while he was getting geared up to go. I was glad that we both knew where we stood and that I had the opportunity to talk more in depth about Jesus with some people –though I don’t think I made the most of the situation. One Bulgarian worker told me that I was the first American he had met that didn’t want to smoke weed. After the park, we caught a ride the the grocery store 14 miles away and got some more necessities.

We started walking down the road a bit and shortly scored our first and last ride to Denali. The woman’s name was Valerie and she was driving a little Chevy Spark. It was a bit of a squeeze for us and our packs, but we made it work. She is an Alaskan who now lives in the lower 48 and is also a travel blogger. The excited me because this was when I first had the idea of turning my blog into a travel one. Check out her blog “Valerie and Valise” at valisemag.com. I am looking forward to reading more of it; I have only scanned it a bit, but it looks very high quality and interesting. We cruised towards Denali, trying to get a peak at McKinley, but it was too cloudy. We stopped at a beautiful place called hurricane gulch and got some nice views. There was also an amanita the size of a plate off the road, as well as a wide variety of other amanitas ranging from the classic Super Mario-esque red and white ones to ones that looked like sunsets with their explosions of orange, yellow, and red. When we stopped at Cantwell, I got my replacement camera. I bought Austin a can of snus in exchange for a pretty jacked up Canon point and shoot. It did the job though and is now laid to rest. I talked to Valerie a bit about Christian spirituality, which was cool. Austin jumped in too and we got into another abstruse metaphysical discussion.

We got dropped at the Denali visitor center and sought to get some information. I got a couple maps of the Stampede Trail from the book store and the cashier put our minds to ease, saying that he hiked the Stampede this time of year the year before. He said that he and some friends tandem crossed the Teklanika and it wasn’t too bad. He wasn’t that big of a guy either. Encouraged, we got back on the road, going the wrong way. Instead of heading North to Healy, we started going down the park road. That wasn’t a good sign, getting lost before even really getting into the wild. A lady driving one of the buses got us straightened out though. Some other riders told us how they had been at the Teklanika earlier and some Asians trying to cross couldn’t because it was too high; the mixed messages continued. I felt that they thought we were stupid for thinking about doing it and then getting turned around in Denali. Anyways, after a couple buses we found ourselves in Denali. The last bus took us to 49th State Brewery, which has a replica of the bus from the movie there. We then walked down the road looking for Stampede trail. We got some vague directions though and a roadside motorcyclist willingly mislead us for whatever reason. So we didn’t get to Stampede that night but camped out by Dry Creek. We cooked up some food and afterward I threw some Mystic Fire on the campfire — which was actually pretty cool and long lasting. This was also the first night that camping was actually pretty freaking cold — I think I wore all or most of my layers.