Taku 2012: A Line in the Sand
  September 16


The view downriver

My parents were ready to close the Taku cabin; schedules prohibited an overnight stay, so they planned to take a helicopter up for a day and utilize a high tide to get the riverboat onto the meadow for the winter.  The riverbank at the cabin is about eight feet high, rising from a narrow, intertidal shelf of clay up a steep, crumbling bank of sand to solid ground on top.  My parents have a system they use with parallel bars of aluminum pipe supporting the boat as it's pulled up with the 4-wheeler, but it's always a big task.  I volunteered myself, Chris, and other strong men if they had room; they took me up on the offer and we added Torsten to the group.  The five of us met up at the Tempsco Helicopters flight pad at 9:00 a.m., checked in, and walked back to the A-star helicopter.  Chris rode in front (this was his first helicopter ride) and the rest of us sat in one long row in the back, my dad on one end next to Torsten and I on the other end next to my mother.  Cailey, always impressively adaptable and eager to go along, happily tried to hop up into the cabin on her own, but it was so high off the ground, so I boosted her up the ladder-like step.  She sat on my tiny seat and wound up on my lap when I came up.  My knees were just about touching the seat in front of me, so there wasn't much room for her elsewhere! 

And then we were rising straight up in the air.  Helicopters are amazing.  We headed down Gastineau Channel and up Taku Inlet and twenty minutes later we were hovering over the clearing in front of the cabin, slowly descending onto the strawberries.  During the whole flight, Cailey looked out the window without a tremor or a pant; Jenny was similarly serene.  Not so once we disembarked!  The two raced around the yard with such exuberance it was impossible not to smile.  We wanted to get right to work, but it was still low tide and would be until mid-afternoon, but my dad threw me the key to the riverboat to see if we could bring it up nearer the loading area.  Chris, Torsten, and I went down to where the riverboat was anchored, untied it, tied the anchor line to a stump, and tried to start the engine.  It started well enough, but immediately died.  The fuel line wasn't a problem like last time; I tried giving it gas, etc., but to no avail.  Finally I tried starting it in reverse and that worked!  It could have been coincidence.  The three of us got on board and puttered upriver, leaving the dogs to follow along the tangled shore.  My dad seemed a bit surprised that we'd brought the boat up in such short order, and we soon started putting the rails in place. One of the poles was still assembled, but the other was in two parts and required some oil to slide the male and female parts together.  I was sent to the shed; all I could come up with was 2-cycle oil, but it worked great!  We soon had the two poles situated, resting about 6" from the edge of the bank on top, the bottoms sitting on the mud a few inches from water.  Torsten cut a few bushes to make more room for the 4-wheeler.  We decided it would be best to allow the water to rise and cover the bottom of the poles, one of which would catch on the bottom of the boat without another foot or so of water.

After agreeing to try in an hour, Torsten, Chris, and I took off along the path upriver with the idea of cutting some brush and further clearing the trail.  Once we started working, however, we changed our objective and decided to try widening the path enough for a 4-wheeler so my dad could drive up there.  Chris and I clipped away at the overhanging spruce and alder boughs on the first half of the trail along the riverbank.  When we reached the 90 degree turn where the trail turns inland for 50 feet before heading back upriver, Torsten started the chain saw and that's when we really got to work, widening the trail considerably with the 4-wheeler in mind (which also made for better walking).  Chris and I followed along, cutting smaller trees, trimming branches, and collecting and moving all the trees and branches that Torsten cut.  It was tiring work and I soon stripped down to a t-shirt (resulting in what later looked like a bad rash from all the spruce needles poking my arms!).  We got all the way to the secret entrance, which I'd deliberately left as a dense hedge of spruces to discourage trespassers.  Beyond that we wound through the young trees into my meadow, which I'd cut two years before.  There were still a number of trees I wanted cut there, and Torsten was happy to help, as usual.  We all agreed to leave the one largish spruce near the edge, but Torsten cut several others nearer the middle and a whole section of dense, 4' spruces that resulted in a nice little enclave among the larger trees (Torsten said that was good for wildlife, as it increases the transition area between meadow and brush).  We drug all the cut trees and branches to the edge of the bank, pleased with the additional open space.  By then we were exhausted and hungry, so we started back for the cabin, already overdue for lunch. Once we got back to the first section of trail along the riverbank, however, we discovered that we really hadn't made the path there truly wide enough for a 4-wheeler and we stopped in at least three or four places to trim branches and cut trees, including one spruce at the 90 turn and a clump of alders that would have made the 4-wheeler careen off the riverbank.  I kept joking that now we were ready for lunch, but we just kept stopping to improve the trail.

Approaching the cabin	Dogs at play	Chris trimming the trail
Torsten started on a new corner of the meadow (before)	And after...	Looking down Debbie's Meadow

The ride back was phenomenal, Chris sitting in back with me this time and Torsten up front.  First we circled back over the meadows to check out a huge black bear in the grasses; then, instead of heading down Taku Inlet the way we'd come, we passed over the toe of the Taku Glacier (spectacular in itself), in front of Norris Glacier, and up the valley next door, crossing a ridge into Perseverance Valley.  And, as we descended from the ridge, a huge group of goats appeared on the mountainside to our right--there must have been two dozen or more!  And toward the end of Mt. Juneau, a huge goat stood alone on the steep slope.  Then we passed over the top of the ridge and descended down to the airport.  This time, Cailey and Jenny both lay on the floor, rump to rump, with their noses in the windows (I can't say for certain if their exhausted eyes were open).

Getting ready to pull the boat	Dad trying out the new trail	Where there used to be meadow...
Chris and Mom walking back on the improved trail	Chris tackles Cailey	The helicopter lands
View behind the cabin	Cailey looks over the glacier	Taku Glacier
Exhausted dog rumps	Flying down Perseverance Valley	Looking down at the airport

Torsten pulling the riverboat into position