The view from the rock slide
Photo Album
Taku
2018 - 3: Lool (Fireweed)
August 9-12
Dreams
of Pavlof dissolved Monday night after first checking the
weather for Wednesday's departure which called for the first big storm
in weeks and weeks, heavy rain and five foot seas in Chatham; since
Ezra couldn't extend the trip a day, missing the first day meant that a
visit to Tenakee was too short to be practical without nearly
eliminating the chance to fish Pavlof for any length of time, so I
would
be on my own if I went. Four days would be plenty for me to spent full
time at
Pavlof, and the idea wasn't unappealing, but with more heavy rain
called for in Chatham, three foot seas at least, and no windshield
wipers, I decided that my message was to let it go for yet another
year. I mourned on and off all night. But lying in bed, trying to cry
silently so Cailey wouldn't notice, the idea of checking the tides for
the weekend came to mind, and they were perfect. I'd been also saddened
by the realization that, with such a busy August, I wasn't going to be
back on the Taku until September, and I would miss yet another summer
to show Ezra my home territory.
So here we are, Saturday evening at the cabin, and Ezra is making
spaghetti. We left the harbor yesterday at 11:10 for the second time
that morning in the Kathy M. After weeks of glorious sunshine, it had
finally rained
a bit last week, and in combination with the storm the day before, had
left the
Ronquil was so low in the water that adding my and the battery's weight
on the same side of the boat put the stern under water. It was taking
so long for the bilge to work that we went and fueled up while it
pumped, stopping back quickly to tuck the battery back in the boat
house. The end of the channel was choppy and the seas built to around
three feet at Bishop and I was grateful to have the Kathy M, though I
probably would have bullied through in the Ronquil. Cailey and my back
were happy about it. The inlet was filled with debris from the river,
one huge log after another to avoid among the flotsam. To make it even
more
exciting, we rode into a thick fog past Jaw Point that obscured the
glacier and, soon, obscured the river more than about 50 feet in front
of us, enough for me to actually slow down in the river to make sure a
log didn't take us by surprise. We didn't see Taku Glacier until we
were alongside it and I took the right turn past Taku Point too early
and had to correct when the rock islands came into view in front of me!
It wasn't exactly the spectacular entry into the Taku I'd imagined for
Ezra! Even more surprising was the state of the "meadow" past the cliff
face. I've seen high water where the river was starting to overlap the
bank, but this was in a serious flood state. Only tips of sedge showed
above
river water and the top few feet of branches showed where higher ground
permitted willows and alders to grow. It was shocking! I knew the river
would be high, as its height had skyrocketed during the last couple of
days from around average (30,000 cfs) to a whopping 65,000 cfs that
morning. We found water over the bottom four stair treads at the
landing, the stairs floating and twisted sideways, and the bank behind
it undercut behind the blanket of roots. Unloading was made easy by
nosing up right to the steps, and anchoring was easy with the
experience I'd gained earlier in the summer in tossing out the anchor
well upriver of the landing site and closer inshore than I normally
would, and because Ezra was able to toss the stern line out to me in a
perfect throw to pull me ashore. While I was on the bow, a boat came
downriver and, for the first time I can remember, slowed down as they
passed, but probably only to ask if we were alright! I don't think they
realized we were at a landing and thought we might be in trouble
sitting in the middle of nowhere.
We
managed to carry everything to the cabin in one uncomfortable load,
Ezra carrying my new mower along with all his gear. After we opened up,
we unpacked, ate grilled cheese sandwiches, and walked upriver to check
out the nagoonberry situation in alternating drizzle and sunshine. The
clouds were low, but we could see Taku Glacier most of the time. On
the way back we picked up the motion sensor cards. I tried out my new
spiral/push mower and was impressed by
how well it worked, even in wet vegetation and grass. It doesn't mow
down tall vegetation (merely rolling over it), but it does a lovely job
on everything else and I started making trails. Ezra figured out that
getting something caught in the blade caused the wheels to freeze
rather than something in the wheels themselves. While experimenting, I
discovered that the meadow is delightfully full of strawberries, a very
welcome sight. Ezra made noodle-corn-pepper soup for dinner and we
watched Mary Poppins before bed. Rain came and went all evening and
through the night, so loud at one point that I had to turn up the
volume on my computer during the movie.
I was up at 7:00, inexplicably, and read in bed for a while before
getting up at 8 when Ezra joined me. We moved the lumber
staged at the landing into Fox Hole and I picked several cups of
strawberries for a mystery dessert. After leftover soup and sandwiches
for lunch, we walked back to the meadow where I got a little off course
and wound up taking a left at the slough rather than a right to find
the canoe. The meadow was more wet than usual, and I was thoroughly
thrown for a loop by the wild flood stage of the slough. The entire
grassy shelf that borders the water was flooded above the tips of the
grass. I turned around at one likely clump of alders and noted the
small spruce tree that is normally a landmark and walked beyond it to
see the mountain alder at the edge of the grass where the canoe is. The
water came right up to the alder and was over my boots for a full canoe
length on this side of it. Ezra, whose rainpants were already wet
inside from the soggy walk, heroically waded out and untied the canoe,
dragging it far enough up that we could tip it to dump the water and I
could board without getting my feet wet. We soon slid out onto the
glassy slough and turned upriver, Ezra paddling with such strength that
I could not match him so he had to correct our course periodically. The
clouds were low and the mountains reflected stunningly on the flat
water. A few goldeneyes startled in the distance, but otherwise it was
quiet. I had hoped at some point during the weekend to hike up the
rocks at the corner of the slough where it reaches closest to the
mountain, but the slough was so high that there was no landing below
the rocks and we would have had to step straight from the canoe onto
vertical rock; even with the rope still there, it seemed a risky
proposition. Instead we continued paddling around the corner, noting
the rock in the middle of the slough at the avalanche a couple of feet
beneath the surface, and
paddled right over the first beaver dam. We continued on a bit farther
and then beached the canoe to climb the steep bank and look out over
the cottongrass meadows. On the way back I found and rescued a floating
bumblebee with my paddle and left it on a willow branch to hopefully
recover. The hike back was much more direct as I was paying better
attention to where I was and we soon shed our wet rain gear and played
a board game in the afternoon before dinner, homemade bison spaghetti.
I was so exhausted that I went to sleep fairly early.
We were up around 8:00 the next day. Ezra made oatmeal for breakfast
and then we headed back to the canoe mid-morning after much debate
about what to do with the day. The river had dropped precipitously
overnight, so I was uneasy about taking the Kathy M across the river,
but the day was gloriously clear and I remembered that we could climb
the big avalanche behind the cabin for a view. We found the slough also
considerably lower and had to drag the canoe back to water. The
avalanche was still in the shade when we started out, so we paddled
downriver and explored the first slough we came to until it became
overhung with alders. There I saw the most abundant (only abundant)
salmonberries of the summer, but most were not ripe or overripe or
possibly waterlogged. From there we paddled close to the mouth and, on
the way, I reached out to pick up a 3" dead fish that was floating by
to take a closer look. When I grabbed it I shrieked a little and then
burst out laughing, as it was apparently an aptly named stickleback.
Near the mouth of the slough we went ashore on the upriver side to walk
to the
fireweed meadow and, along the way, the small secret strawberry patch,
replete with strawberries and a few sun-warmed nagoons. We hit the
fireweed at just the right time; the pink in front of the glaciers was
stunning, and the meadow was alive with feeding and quarreling
hummingbirds. Overnight the rain had stopped and the day was clear and
sunny. From there we poked our heads into the river and then
turned back to explore the first slough on the downriver bank, a wide
winding slough that I remember skiing over the first time my mom and I
visited during winter. In the shallows among the sedges were more
schools of the tiny fish I'd been seeing, maybe half an inch long,
groups of hundreds together. This slough was so clear that we could see
all the way to the bottom, maybe six feet or more down. Closer to the
mountain, it shallowed and became rocky and we entered a little bower,
still wide but overhung by branches, alders on one side and a large
spruce on the other whose roots lined the bank. As we stopped at the
wall of low, overhanging alders ahead of us, I spotted a trout-like
fish about 8" long cruising along the bank. I think it is the first
large (live) fish I've seen in the slough!
On the way back we rescued two more bumblebees and then turned into the
slough that I thought led to the base of the avalanche. I heard what
sounded very much like an eaglet screaming nearby and we saw an adult
in a tree on the mountain that vocalized in the middle of it. The only
other possibility, I thought, would be a hawk, but it sure sounded like
an eaglet. I wondered if a fledgling was on the ground nearby or if
there was a nest back there? Then I saw two wheeling eagles that, with
binoculars, turned into two red-tailed hawks! They were clearly hawks,
anyway, and one had a faint apricot orange tail. I couldn't see any
color on the other tail, but the secondaries were white and it was
flying with the other, so presumably they were both red-tails. On the
day we arrived, we'd seen a large hawk fly out over the river from the
cabin, though I couldn't tell what species. Unfortunately, they soon
disappeared from sight and the crying also stopped. Soon we passed over
a flooded beaver dam and into a narrow channel that became lined
in large rocks. Stopping at the huge boulder where we could go no
farther, we pushed through some brush and climbed onto the licheny
rocks of the avalanche. Stopping somewhat up the slope we turned and
gazed out over the stunning valley and I briefly glimpsed a moving
brown back in a meadow at the base that soon became a bear face peering
up as the bear stood for a few second before disappearing into the
brush. I think it was colored brown. We continued up the slope, much
farther than I'd gone before. By then it was well past lunch and we
headed back to the cabin for surprise spaghetti "Os" from Ezra and
sandwiches. The hummingbirds were enjoying the nectar I'd put out when
we'd arrived, their number swelling to at least four. I wondered if any
were buzzing back and forth to the fireweed meadow--it would surely be
a very quick flight for them.
A stressful week and lack of sleep was catching up with me and I
thought a nap would be in order, so I slipped upstairs and fell asleep
for a little bit; unfortunately, it was quite loud what with strange
pings on the roof (maybe it was expanding in the sunshine?), Cailey's
movements, etc., and I don't think I slept long, though it was over an
hour later when Ezra came upstairs to get me, after which we headed
upriver to berry pick. Ezra rode my bike and continued riding
toward the lodge while I started picking nagoonberries in my favorite
spot past the big patch of cottonwoods. Cailey came back to check on me
once, then stayed with Ezra the rest of the time and followed him to
the cabin when he returned to leave me picking. The nagoons were
bountiful, early in the ripening stage, and I picked a satisfying
amount. I was intrigued to find that a patch of low-bush (?)
blueberries were producing; I've seen that mat-like plant many times,
and I'm not sure how often I've known what it was, and I don't remember
seeing it full of blueberries! I wanted to pick a bunch and I started
to, but given my limited time, the small berries, and their
not-exactly-stunning flavor, I soon returned to nagoons. I didn't find
many beyond that initial area and just downriver from it, so moved to
the
edge of our property where they were abundant, but not ripe. The meadow
I am trying to keep clear also didn't yield very much. I was soon
riding the bike (which Ezra had left me) down the trail through the
woods, thoroughly enjoying zooming down the passages. Even with
stopping on the sloughs, it was fast and wonderful. I stopped at the
blueberries before spruce avenue and hastily picked, supplementing that
with berries from the bushes as the trail turns for the last time
toward the river. I made it back before 7:30 and found Ezra working on
an amazing bison stir fry. We read a little after dinner,
and I made sure to stay up until it started to turn dusk so I could
take Ezra to the river bank to enjoy the lovely evening view there that
I like so well. I was hoping it would be pink, as it sometimes is, but
it was just pale and blue, but still lovely enough. Ezra read another
chapter of "Pay up Bug" on the side of the bed and we went to sleep
relatively early.
The sunny day and the cooking had warmed the cabin and, though I hadn't
lit a fire, we opened the windows upstairs to sleep and I enjoyed the
breeze all night. I think we were both awake when Cailey raised her
head, started sniffing, and soon erupted in barks, running downstairs.
I looked out the window, but saw no retreating bear, so headed
downstairs to find wet paw prints on the porch and Samantha browsing
for strawberries by the cooker. Cailey barked and looked out the window
while we watched her until she disappeared into the woods. I headed out
shortly thereafter to use the outhouse and then move the upriver motion
sensor camera to the back trail close to the cabin. When I got back, I
let Cailey out finally and she ran over to the cooker and immediately
reared up, hackles raised, and barked again. I saw branches move nearby
and, when I stepped out, heard the raking of claws on bark and the
unhappy sounds of Samantha popping at Cailey from a tree.
Cailey seemed quite pleased, ran over to me and, when I paused to take
some pictures, ran barking back at the tree. Surprisingly, she was
quite happy to follow me back to the cabin and go inside, allowing
Samantha to quickly climb down and resume eating. She slowly worked her
way through the meadow going downriver until she bolted into the woods
for an unknown reason. Ezra made fried eggs and toast for breakfast,
then I washed the dishes and we packed up and swept the cabin. The day
was misty again and I had a cup of tea while playing a couple rounds of
Imminent Domain with Ezra before picking a bowl of strawberries for my
parents while Ezra took a walk upriver. I made quesadillas for lunch
and washed the last dishes before we headed to the landing where I tied
off the stairs to a tree before loading. There was a tiny shelf of sand
at the bottom of the slope, but loading was going to be tricky with the
stairs catawampus. I slid down to the bottom and together we somewhat
straightened them by at least getting it off the stump it was resting
on. We pulled the boat in and soon had it all loaded up and all
creatures on board. It was 1:00 when we headed out, two hours before
high tide, but the river was still pretty high. We idled most of the
way down the edge of the meadow, spying some adorable ducklings that
soon disappeared into the edge of the sedge, their movements inside
belied by the waving grass, then got up to speed and headed out of the
river, pausing near Scow Cove to pick up a couple pieces of glacier
ice. The ride back was fairly calm and peaceful and we just made it
under the harbor ramps (with about 6" to spare at the seven foot mark)
at high tide. I took a shower, then delivered a bowl of chopped glacier
ice and strawberries in time for cocktail hour at my parents' house.
