(Brian Kasavana giving Shay Coe a hand and rope through the never-ending bush.)

            “We’re back on the scale folks!”

            I was in a new place with new people, pursuing a new form of exploration (packrafting – new to me) when someone belted out this new phrase.  I had just enough time to take in the words before a rogue Alder branch slammed me in the face, quickening my understanding of exactly what it meant.

            It meant we were in it.  We were committed.  We were bushwacking until we found our river and there was no reason to expect anything different.  Rainy, thick, steep bushwacking.

            When pursuing a new activity, there is always some sort of learning curve.  For me it has been figuring out how to pack everything I need on multiday packraft trips without carrying too much weight.  When you factor in clothing for the Alaskan weather, cold water paddling equipment (drysuit, PFD, helmet, paddle, packraft and safety gear), camping gear, food, camera gear and special bags / holsters for carrying camera equipment accessibly, you have one mound of gear to deal with.

            Unfortunately, I chose this trip to experiment with the learning curve.  I learned very quickly that I had packed a very light, space-consuming item (PFD / lifejacket) near the bottom because I wouldn’t need it for a while.  In my thoughts of accessibility over weight distribution, I had inadvertently forced myself to pack a few heavier items higher in the pack, making for an exhausting top-heavy pack.  Not fun on the trail and definitely not fun in the bush.

            The reason I am spending some time on this is that like all decisions, it had a ripple effect.  Because the pack was tall and top-heavy it swung around at the shoulders.  Instead of asking for a stop and fix, I just kept going which was even worse.  Then my expedition size and strength backpack (which I have trusted for years under heavy stress) gave out and the right shoulder strap ripped completely free from the pack.  One bad move had led to another and before I knew it, I had dug my own grave.  This was only a few hours into a demanding three-day trip.

            I agree it was a rookie move but knowing that I will always carry at least twenty pounds more than everyone in every group I go out with, I think about weight a little differently.  Basically, I accept it.  In this case, I accepted poor weight distribution in place of just being heavier than everyone.  Bad move.

            The rest of the bushwacking endeavor was spent hauling all of my weight on my hips and left shoulder, which was of course not very comfortable or very efficient for my energy use.

            We were definitely, “on the scale.”

            My intent about the backpack and bushwacking situation is not to make the trip sound negative, but to show how important even small decisions can be.

            In all, the trip was a success.  We powered through a lot of northern jungle and even had some respite on the tundra here and there which gave way to amazing views and wildlife encounters.  We spent an unplanned night on the river, but one group member had it in him to stand in the freezing water and cold rain to catch a salmon for us to cook over the campfire.  Brian, you are my hero for that. 

The crew was very strong and I am happy to come out of it with a few new friends.  Thanks again for having me along!

            Aside from that trip, I have also had the opportunity to pull off packrafting trips on the Resurrection River, Kenai, Russian River and even a 40-mile day trip from Girdwood to Eagle River over Crow Pass.

            For some reason, packrafting seems to be synonymous with words like mission or epic (both of which I have used too often lately) but I wouldn’t have it any other way.


(A beautiful and deserved tundra breakfast.)

(Shay Coe pulling Devil's Club thorns out of his hands.)

(Morning on the tundra.  Note the big male Caribou on the hill.)

(Our unplanned river camp.)

(Shay Coe cooking up some salmon as the fishing hero Brian Kasavana looks on.)

(Inger Hanson on her way up Crow Pass during one of the most beautiful summer days the Anchorage area has seen.)

(Some logistics require hitch-hiking, which is less doable when you get off the river at 11 pm.  This day did not end until around 4:30 am.)

(Back in my Alaska uniform, rain gear and a lifejacket.)

            Twelve days of logistics, commercial flights, bush flights, shooting, fishing, paddling, sleeping on the ground, campfires, fresh fish, local culture, new friends and no showers.  And that is only the beginning!

            My time in Alaska started with an amazing assignment for Boys’ Life Magazine that put me on a 9-day river trip in the Arctic Circle with some of the most accomplished teenagers I have encountered.  Not many folks can handle remote wilderness for extended periods, and especially teens, but this group showed strength, aptitude and an overall desire to do something no other troop has ever done.  As much fun as they had on the trip, I might be able to say that I had more.

I have since had a few showers and recuperated from the last trip as well as the few months of travel and logistics that led up to it.  I have had a friend’s company, a house to sleep in and a puppy to keep me entertained.  The weather even cleared enough one day to hop into a friend’s plane and go flying and shooting around Mt. McKinley / Denali National Park.  We had a bit of weather and turbulence to deal with which made shooting a real challenge (seriously, I felt like I was being shaken like dice in cupped hands while looking through the viewfinder) but it was well worth it.  I even had the opportunity to take the controls for a little while and learn a few things.  What I realized is that this won’t be the last time you hear me talk about flying.  I am hooked!

The last few days have been a bit less exciting, but definitely all part of it.  Resting, editing, planning and gearing up for the next leg has been crucial.  Now it’s time to get back out there!


(Yes, 50 square miles of sand dunes in the Arctic Circle.  I had no idea either.)

(Somewhere on the river.)

(My craft.  Solar panel charging in the stern, full coffee mug waiting for me in the bow.)

(Flying with friends Inger Hanson and John Dieffenderfer.)

(Paying homage to Bradford Washburn.  If you don't recognize the name look him up, he was The Man.)

(And again.)

(Flying really close to the Ruth Glacier.  Too much going on to fit in a photo but I still tried.)