Tanada Lake, Wrangell-St. Elias: Part 1 - Nabesna, AK
Nabesna, AK
This hunting/camping trip had been planned for months. It was to be the finale of summer, and Josh and I couldn't wait for hunting season to open. Since I moved out of Barrow, Wrangell-St. Elias National Park was top of my list to visit. Since Josh still claims residency in the rural area of Tok, he was able to get a subsistence permit to hunt inside this park. As a subsistence hunter, he not only is allowed to hunt in the park, but he has special regulations that others don't, mainly, he had an "any male permit" for moose and sheep. Our destination was Tanada Lake, a special place to Josh that held great memories of previous hunting trips from when he lived in Tok well over 12 years ago. Since being in the Marines for the past 12 years, he had not been back there since he was a teenager, but it was a sentimental place nonetheless, and he wanted to share this place with me. The 7 mile "trail" that led from Nabesna Road in the park out to Tanada Lake was the worst trail anyone could ever imagine, I was warned. It is bumpy and muddy and wet. It would be hard going. Josh's exact words were, "it's a ***** of a trail." Before we made the final plans to leave, Josh told me that no one ever hunts back there because of several reasons: only certain people with certain rural residency can actually hunt there, but mostly, Tanada Lake is near impossible to get to. But we borrowed a trailer from a good friend to aid in our trip. And we would be doing it with 2 people on 1 four wheeler hauling a trailer loaded down with gear. Anyone who actually attempts the journey is considered crazy and insane; but we would be the only people to attempt it like this. Am I sure I wanted to go? Yes, I was. Hell yes!
Since we both work every other week, we spent the two weeks prior getting everything ready to go. Packing and buying all the gear we would need. Planning and preparing. Anticipation building. We started our work week eager for it to be over so we could head out. (We work 12 hour shifts for 7 days straight, alternating every other week days and nights, working Thursday to Wednesday). It was night shift. By the time Monday rolled around, I knew I was getting sick. It started with stomach problems: nausea, not able to eat or even smell food, incredible lethargy, and constant sleepiness. The following night, I had a raging fever that lasted several days, sweats and chills, and a migraine that hurt so back my eyeballs hurt to move them and my neck and shoulders even hurt. I was only getting worse by this point. We finish our last day of shift at 0700 Thursday morning, and I was still sick with no hope on the horizon. Josh asked if I was well enough to go, because this was not going to be an easy trip. I continued to say that I had been sick for a week already, and with each passing day I'd say that I'm sure one of these times I'll wake up and feel better. Well, better never came.
We slept the day on Thursday. I had a fever still and couldn't get out of bed. While Josh finished up the last of the errands, I slept. And ached. And sweated. At some point in the afternoon, I migrated to the couch and continued the slow, painful death there. I barely managed to walk outside when he arrived home, and I certainly couldn't help him pack everything up. I was very ill. But again, I said I could do it. After all the planning and anticipation, I would have to be dead to not go on this trip. Friday came, and Josh had to work mandatory overtime. We were supposed to go to the state fair that day and see 3 Doors Down in concert, but since he didn't get off until 7pm, we missed the concert and never went to the fair. I gave the tickets to a close friend and her husband. They had a great time, which made me feel good. Deep down, I was kind of glad we didn't go because I didn't feel up to walking around the fair, standing for hours at the concert, then leaving immediately after for our trip. I never once thought about how if I couldn't do that, how was I going to make this trip?? Josh got off work and since we were already packed up, we headed out. After the 2 hour drive to Glenallen, we decided to pull off and sleep, and continue the last half of the journey in the morning. As I had the entire week, every moment I could, I would lay down to sleep. I slept til Josh woke me up around 0600, and we headed to the Caribou Lodge in Glenallen for breakfast. Normally a pig, I ordered only hashbrowns and could barely eat 1/4 of the food. I just couldn't stomach anything. I briefly argued with Josh about not wanting to turn around, and after breakfast, we headed to Wrangell-St. Elias, another 2 hours away.
We stopped at the ranger station in Slana so Josh could get his subsistence permits, then off we drove to Tanada Lake. We got to the trailhead and he told me to take a nap while he unloaded everything and packed up the trailer and four wheeler, which I did without complaint. He asked multiple times if I was sure I could do this. I always answered yes. Over an hour later, he was ready and I reluctantly got up and sat on the back of the four wheeler as we headed out. It was cloudy and chilly, and the forecast called for rain the rest of the week. Josh has a tendency to over exaggerate things, so surely the trail couldn't be as bad as he was saying. Plus, he wouldnt ever let me embark on this journey, as sick as I was, if it really was that bad! And it was only 7 miles...it would probably only take us a couple of hours. I could manage. We headed down the trail and yes, it was bad, especially loaded down the way we were, but it wasn't too terrible. I tried not to breath in: the stinking smell of decaying tundra and forest, the wet muddy earth, and the fumes from the four wheeler plus the incredible bumpiness of the trail was making it hard for me to not vomit. The first time we got stuck, we had a hard time getting out. The trailer sunk into one of the giant mudvholes, and we ended up having to unhook it, tow it out with straps while pushing it, and then re-hooking the trailer. This, of course, was done after trying to lift and push the fours wheeler and trailer out. It took us about a half hour. At one point, the wind brought the scent of a moose, and he was close. My stomach turned again and I prayed we wouldn't see him because I wasn't sure I could stomach the smell of butchering a moose being as sick as I was. Once this first hurdle was over, I was just eager to get where we were going.
My assumptions were very wrong about this trek. It took us 6 hours to go 6.5 miles. We were constantly getting stuck, and more often than not, Josh would have to walk ahead to plan the route, then every 30 feet or so, direct me on the path that was safe to take the four wheeler and trailer. It was rough going, needless to say. To describe the trail as "difficult" would have made the trip seem easy! There were mud holes up to my thighs. There was water all over the trail and tundra, making passage near impossible. Streams flooded the trail and flowed each direction, making it an incredible chore to find a decent way around. 75% of the time we were not even on the trail because it was too muddy and too much standing (or running) water, and we would have to travel across the tundra, which was just as wet. Most of the tundra in this area is ******head tundra. For those of you who are offended, a ******head is a type of plant formation, and seems to be an Alaskan word. Out of all the Alaskans I've asked, no one knows another name for them. The definition of a ******head reads, "in swampy land, tufts or clumps of sedge and grass growing up stiffly and somewhat resembling a black head." Another definition reads, "a clump of plant material found on the tundra."******heads can be several feet tall and grow close together, but there is indeed a drop beneath them. Because they are so close together, it is easy to sprain an ankle or get a four wheeler stuck in them, and often, there is water in the spaces. In looking at the pictures I took of the tundra, you may not easily be able to see, but if you look closely, you will see "bumps" all over with long hairlike grass growing out of these bumps. Each one is a ******head. They are also squishy (not firm), making it easy for a foot to slide off when you hike it. As a side note, when we returned the following week, the man we met on the trail said that this was the worse he has EVER seen Tanada Lake Trail, and he comes here every year to hunt. The sad thing is, when he was there the following week, the trail had actually significantly improved since this time.
We got stuck in mud and water in the swampy tundra at the base of a mountain. By this point, I was ready to break down and cry (or pass out, not sure which one), and Josh was exhausted. He could not lift that trailer or four wheeler one more time. We knew we were close to the lake, but both of us were drained. After seeing the look on my face as we were stuck again, and knowing that he couldn't continue on anymore, he said, "**** it. We are camping here. We will take the four wheeler to the lake tomorrow to see what the rest of the trail is like." It had started to rain about this time, and we carried what gear we need up the side of the mountain. He quickly and sloppily tied the tarp to trees and set up the tent underneath. I am sure he cooked something that night for dinner, but I can't remember what. I couldn't eat anything, not even coffee, despite his insistence, and all I can remember was how tired I was and just wanted to sleep. The view from our campsite was beautiful, though. There was a little bit of tundra dotted with small ponds that extended from the bottom of the hill out to the Copper River, maybe only a quarter mile away. Out to our right was the tundra and mountains we just came from, and to our left was the majestic Mt. Wrangell, Mt. Sanford, Black Mountain, and other valleys and peaks. Trees dotted the forest after the expanse of tundra that ended up being only half a mile, and behind the trees sat the expansive and beautiful Tanada Lake. We could follow the Copper River to where it fed into the lake and disappeared out of site behind the trees.The clouds were covering the mountains, and it wouldn't be until we were headed back that I realized just how beautiful the mountains were. Autumn had come to the interior, and all the plants and tundra was starting to change colors into hues of golds and reds and oranges. We laid down in our tent, bundled up in our sleeping bags, nestled into the mountainside. The ******heads beneath us actually created a soft, squishy bed, and once you were able to find a spot in between them, they were actually very comfortable. It was a little after 7pm.
We awoke 16 hours later. Well, Josh did. It took him another 30 minutes or so to rouse me from my death bed. I just couldn't find the strength to get up. I refused anything to eat, and said I wanted to sleep until he was done cooking and eating. I vaguely remember him trying to get me to eat something, but after one bite i turned it down. I was so incredibly tired. Feverish. No energy to even get myself dressed. Yet I managed, and off we went destined the rest of the way to Tanada Lake. It was raining again, on and off, but at least it was a decently light rain. The next half mile was rough, just like the beginning, but because we weren't hauling the trailer, we had an easier time of it. There were a few spots that were extremely difficult to pass, but we did it. We finally reached the massive Tanada Lake and I couldn't help but gaze out in awe. It was a huge lake, still and peaceful, and extended from its mouth at the Copper River back into the mountains. Being the avid fisherman I am (my ultimate passion!) I was ecstatic when I saw the fish jumping everywhere. There were so many fish!!! And they were huge!!!! I couldn't wait to get my line in the water. We drove down a short path to the mouth of the lake where it met the river. Along the way, we spotted a large bear print in the mud. The day before we left the trailhead, a man was attacked in this very spot by a large grizzly. Apparently, he startled the bear, who knocked his hat off, sliced his rubber boot off, and ran away. Other than a ruined boot and minor bruise on the foot, not even a scratch was on him. That is one lucky man!! Between this report and the print, we had our fingers crossed that we might actually kill a bear. (We were out hunting, after all!) I really wanted my first kill to be a bear, simply because...it's a bear!!!
The fish were even more active at the mouth of the lake. We unloaded the fishing gear and shotgun, and immediately headed for the water. After about ten minutes though, I couldn't do it anymore, and I laid down in the dirt and curled up to sleep. I cradled the shotgun next to me, telling Josh I'll lay here and be on bear duty. I'm not sure how much time had passed, but I awoke to Josh cooking some bacon. He was hungry, and was hoping that the smell would draw in a bear. It didn't. I ate one bite of bacon before deciding I couldn't eat any more, and in order to avoid Josh forcing food down my throat, I stood up to fish. I felt like I was wasting this beautiful scenery in this wonderful place by sleeping and being sick, so I decided I was going to out forth every effort to make the most of it. I would never forgive myself for wasting such a trip being sick and sleeping. I fished for a while. There was huge trout and grayling jumping everywhere, and the bright reds of the salmon that were spawning glowed from under the water. The salmon had already spawned and turned their bright reds, and were not good to eat, but so many other fish abounded. Josh and I had both caught numerous salmon already, and I had already lost one lure to them. They were huge salmon, nearly at the end of their life, but yet they were still actually biting off zero spinners!! Too big for the hook or the line, we tried to avoid them, but when they are actually going after and biting your lures, it was hard. We couldn't eat them, as they were decaying, so we had to fight to bring them in and then release them. At one point, I hooked what I thought was another salmon. It was huge, about the size of a good-sized silver. I was fighting to reel it in, and Josh yells out, "You got a silver salmon! We are keeping it!!" As I struggle to bring this monster in, Josh is trying to grab my line to help. He watches it flip and jump out of the water, its silvery scales glistening in the light, and he says, "Wait...all the salmon have already turned. They should all be red. Babe- that's not a salmon...that's a trophy trout!!" And sure enough that's exactly what I had hooked. About a foot from shore, the water became very shallow, and this trout did a back flip and all I hear it my line snap, the whistle of the lure flying through the air, and Josh moaning and doubling over. The trout snapped my line and it hit Josh in the leg. He was ok, but the trophy fish got away, and with my lure no less. No picture, no fish, no proof other than mine and Josh's testimony. This trout will always be another fisherman's tale of the giant one that got away.
After this, I laid down to sleep more, while Josh continued fishing. He ended up catching 4 graylings, all big. Only one was less than 20 inches long. As darkness was approaching, we decided to hang out a little longer and enjoy the scenery and see if maybe the coming darkness might bring us a moose or bear. He filleted the fish and put the carcasses in a pile and poured the bacon grease over it, hoping tomorrow we would see that a bear had visited. After a while we headed back to camp and Josh began cooking our dinner: fettuccini alfredo and fresh grayling. Not wanting to waste the delicious fish he had caught, as well as not having the energy to fight him over my inappetance, I managed to force down two small fillets and a tiny bit of pasta. I just wanted to sleep. We stayed up til darkness was well upon us and retired to our comfy bed. I could not sleep this night, however. I was not cold at all, but I could not stop shaking. I would try to stop, but it was involuntary. My entire body shook and quivered the entire night, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. When I told Josh the next morning, he said it was probably because by this point, I had gone well over a week without eating anything and the past few days I had been exerting too much energy. He made me promise to eat a can of soup for breakfast, insisting the nourishment would do me good and it would be hot and comforting. We crawled out of the warm tent into the cold, rainy weather. Josh stepped out from under the tarp to relieve himself, and hear him calling me. I poke my head out to see what's going on and he's pointing and telling me to look. Several large moose walked right through our campsite last night. Un-freaking-believeable!!! After that disappointing discovery, we started breakfast. I said I would eat only if we had chicken and rice soup, which was my favorite. We did have it, so he heated it up and handed it to me. I crinkled my nose in disgust. It smelled like canned dog food, and had little taste. I wasn't sure I could eat the whole thing. Waves of nausea swept over me, but I knew Josh was right. I ate it all over the next hour, except for the broth. I didn't bother with that. Josh was satisfied, I was now even more nauseous, but at least I did have nourishment in me and we could start our day. We headed back to Tanada Lake to fish.
The trail to the lake was not improving. The constant rain we had been having was just making everything wetter and muddier. It was early afternoon by the time we got to the lake, and we were disappointed to see that our pile of fish and grease had not been touched. I slept for a little bit more. Josh tried to encourage me to come fish, but I just wanted to sleep. He made a comment about how if I was too sick to fish, I must really be ill...and he was worried. I used to spend 15+ hours at Sheep Creek every day off, fishing nonstop, but now, I could barely stand to cast my line. Yes, I was quite sick. It was raining harder today, and the fish weren't biting as well as they had been yesterday. Josh caught 2 large grayling, but the only thing I caught was a rock. A ******* rock. I casted, felt something heavy on my line and carefully reeled it in. Disgruntled, I showed my catch to Josh, who was laughing but puzzled at the same time. "How can a great fisherman like you, who caught so many salmon all summer, not have caught anything in 2 days but a rock??" I glared (lovingly) at him as I pitched the rock back into the river. After a few more casts, I gave up and fell asleep. When I awoke, I had a strange sensation in my belly: I was actually hungry! For the first time in 2 weeks!! Taking this as a good sign, that I may actually live after all, I got a renewed energy and fished a little more, but still never caught anything. We headed back to camp and cooked up our fish and more pasta. I was starving, but not able to eat much because I became full so quickly. After eating and clean up, the rain had actually paused and we sat there, sitting in our chairs drinking some coffee and overlooking the tundra and river below until it became too dark to see. There was very minimal light left when we were debating going to bed. We could barely see past the trees below us and into the open tundra. As we got ready to head to bed, we hear splashing in the large pond on the tundra below camp. We tried for a while to decide if it was bear or moose. After listening to it walk through the water, we decided it was moose. But now the inky, thick blackness of night was completely upon us and we couldn't even see each other, much less a moose to shoot it. We didn't even know its gender. We sat a little longer listening to the splashing as it crossed one end of the pond to the other. Then we hear a hollow scraping and bushes rustling around the pond. What we were hearing was the moose, with its head down, walking through the brush while its antlers pushed brush out of the way. The hollow scraping was its challenge to other bulls as it scraped its antlers on a tree. Disgusted and disappointed that we had to way to kill it because of night, we crawled into bed. By this night, the soft ******heads had been squished beneath our weight and were no longer soft. We tried to fall asleep as we listened to the sound of the moose below us.
The next morning dawned and I was feeling so much better! I managed to eat a pancake and some potatoes and coffee. Josh asked how I was feeling, and at my response, he suggested we hike up the mountain to see if we can't find moose or bear. We haven't seen any bear signs all week, but the moose tracks have been abundant through our camp, meaning they were bedding down up the mountain during the day and coming down to the pond and river at night. I agreed, and after breakfast, up the mountain we went. We traveled over hills with ******heads to the lichen-covered rocks, following the game trails. We reached treeline, then above, and headed up these trails til we came to thick bushes the size of small trees. We had seen moose and grizzly hair stuck to branches along our trail, so we knew they were up there, but the brush was so thick and tall we really couldn't go any farther. Josh wanted to just get to the other side of this barrier to continue up in the hopes of getting a moose, but we ultimately decided to head back down the mountain. Once back a camp, we decided to take the four wheeler and instead of going fishing, we would take the other trail that headed to Black Mountain. We would just explore a little and take in the scenery, and see if we couldn't find any animals. It had actually been partly sunny all day, and the warm sun rays felt good as we drove through the tundra, passing trees and lakes and ponds, headed towards the massive mountains. No animals would be seen this day, just like every other day, and as night came about, we made a stop at Tanada Lake for a little more fishing before dark. Tomorrow we would be leaving, so this was really our last chance. No fish were caught except the nasty salmon, and we sat side by side as the sun set and darkness fell. No animals were seen, although at one point we did smell a bear, so we headed back to camp for our final dinner. Several of the mud holes were continuing to get worse with each passing we made, and there was one in particular that decided we would not pass anymore. It was a steam that ran through the reeds and off into the tundra, but the crevasse was deep and the mud was sticky. there were a few skinny branches and a few pieces of plywood someone left to help with the passage, but those methods had been getting worse with each trip over it. I placed the wood appropriately for Josh to try to cross with the four wheeler, and as he crossed, the wood sunk into the much and the four wheeler nearly toppled over. the back left wheel feel into the crevasse created by the stream, and it was a struggle to right the four wheeler and unstick it at the same time. But with team effort, just like we had done this entire trip, we managed. The crevasse was actually hip deep to me. I know this because on a previous passing, I had actually fallen in. It was a good day. I can't remember what we ate that night, but I did eat.
Morning broke, and the dread came over us. We had to head back. Not only did we never want to leave this beautiful place, but we had to travel back over the trail that now had several more days worth of rain on it. We broke down camp and headed out, this time traveling over a trail we had discovered that worked its way over the hills rather than the wet lowlands, like we had come through previously. We did get stuck a few times, but nothing compared to the trip coming in. The trail was still rough, but the amount of times we got stuck was less. Over the mountains and hills we went, until we reached a very deep and fairly wide stream flowing over the trail. There were 2x6's placed over the stream, and with the help of those, it appeared to be an easy crossing. I got off (one of the boards was starting to rot, and I thought the less weight the better) and watched as Josh drove the machine and trailer to the other side. About halfway across, the rotting board gave way and the see the trailer start to tip over. Josh floors the four wheeler, attempting to get it to the other side at least before everything flipped into the water. Well, he made it, but in the process of the trailer starting to tip, the welding on the tongue where it was attached to the axle had broken. It appeared the bolt was also missing. About a mile or so back, we went over some bumpy terrain and heard a metallic snap, but could find nothing wrong upon our inspection. So we continued on. Well, that was most likely the bolt. And now the trailer tongue was broken. My ever-positive Joshpulled out straps and chains and metal cable and I don't even know what else. He managed to McGuyver his way through a solution that would hopefully get us the last 4.5 miles back to the trail head. I told him as I'm watching him bind the trailer up with his engineerical ideas that, "You know that question where if you coud take one thing to a desert island, what would it be? I'd take you. Because you can make something out of nothing to fix the worst of problems." He just laughed. After about an hour and a half of rigging, he felt confident enough to be on our way. It was slow going. While his solution was working, straps were breaking and chains were slipping, and we were constantly having to stop to readjust. At one point, we had to stop to completely redo the straps. He told me to dump out the ice chest because he needed it for something; I don't remember what. I am always making a fuss about littering, and not wanting to leave any little bit of trash in the wilderness, especially in a place as beautiful as this. This time was no exception, and we had a lot of food in the cooler. But I still made him dig out a knife for me to cut open packages so I could dump the food. We would take the packaging and trash with us. In a nice pile on the tundra I laid out a bear's heavenly buffet of food: 8 jalepeno cheddar bratwursts, two packages of BBQ smothered pulled pork, two packages of raw bacon, 5 pork chops, a whole package of Canadian bacon, and all smothered with an entire tupperware container of homemade cheddar potato soup. Whatever bear found that food pile would think he died and went to heaven. I cleaned up all the trash and while Josh re-rigged the trailer, I set about to picking blueberries. My hands are so small I had to make several trips to Josh to eat my handful and then go pick more, but by the end, we had a nice snack of wild Alaskan blueberries. He had trouble eating them out of my hand without spilling them, and I told him, "Don't use your tongue...use your lips, like a walrus." And I demonstrated how a walrus eats (I would know this!!) The gave me a loving baffled look and followed my example. He didn't spill any. :) And onward we went.
About a mile and a half from where we first broke down, we got stuck in another mud hole. The four wheeler sunk down a little, but it was mostly the trailer. I hopped off, hoping the extra weight gone would propel the machine out of the mud. Josh gives it some gas, and I see the ATV slowly start to move, like the little engine that could. Well, then I see the trailer start to tip on its front end rather than roll forward. Not sure whats going on, I yell at Josh to stop. I walked over to the trailer to see what the problem was. Yes it was stuck in mud, but that was not the problem. Exhausted already from the day's journey, I stared in disbelief. I said, "What the ****?! Please tell me I'm not seeing what I think I'm seeing. How is this ******* possible???" At that point, Josh jumps off the ATV to look for himself, worried. He looks down, then simply plops himself down on a ******head. "I need a ******* cigarette," was all he could mutter. We sat there and smoked, too in shock to even think.
The trailer hitch on the back of the four wheeler had broken off. Sheared right off, and now the trailer had no way to be attached to the four wheeler. We were 3 miles from the trailhead. We had one four wheeler, a borrowed trailer loaded down with gear with no way to be hauled back. We were at a loss. Even Josh admitted that there was no solution, and we would have to leave the trailer until our next week off. He loaded the four wheeler with as much gear as humanly possible. He next loaded up two backpacks with as much gear as could fit, both inside and strapped to the outside. He would carry the backpack and hike out the last 3 miles of the trip (he probably had nearly 100lbs of gear on him.) I would drive the four wheeler out. I'm not sure which was harder, driving a four wheeler loaded down with so much gear over sink holes, streams, mud, forests, and ****** heads while trying not to flip it, or hiking out with 100 lbs of gear. It was the longest 3 miles of the entire trip.
Finally, we made it back to the trailhead. We were never so glad to be put of the wilderness as we were at that moment. We knew we would not be getting the trailer out this trip, but we still had quite a bit of gear we had to leave behind. We unloaded everything and, since we still had 3-4 hours of daylight left, we decided to go back for the rest of our gear. We hadn't gotten very far down the trailer when Josh stopped. We only had 1/2 a tank of gas, and we were both exhausted. After discussing it, we decided that there was nothing out there that we HAD to go back to get; all the important and expensive gear we took the first time. We tuned back around for the trucks, leaving everything on the trail until next week.
We needed to leave a note at the ranger station telling them that it was our trailer out there and that we would be back for it. Josh asked if I had any paper to write the note, and I thought I did. It turns out that I didn't, but I did have a tampon box!! I ripped off one of the sides and scrawled the note for the ranger. I handed it to Josh to see if he wanted to add any more. He looks at it, and says, "Are you serious?" I said, "That was all I had." He shakes his head as we get in our trucks and head down the road. (We had two trucks with us: one to haul the trailer, one to haul the four wheeler.) We put the note in a plastic bag and tied it to the ranger station door. The next week when we met up with the ranger, she laughed at us, telling us she thought the note was a joke, and that she still has it on her desk because it always makes her laugh. LOL.
Homeward bound we were, a week of working interrupting our trips. But since everything was already packed up for next week, we would just have to get through this day shift of work before embarking on part 2 of this adventure.