Viking Chamber Pot Pillages on a Dreamy Packraft Adventure

Viking paddle princess.

DREAMY PACKRAFT ADVENTURE. At some point last year our dear friend Chase texted and said, "So where are we going on a river trip this summer?" A little research and a few phone calls later we had a local pilot lined up to drop a crew of us across the Cook Inlet up at an alpine lake in Lake Clark National Park... We were going to paddle the 50 mile Tlikakila River from headwaters to mouth.

Eight people plus gear meant we needed a pretty big float plane so we finally got to fly in an Otter... Indigo and I approved.

The view from above...

The flight alone was worth the cost of the payload - glaciers, rocky peaks, waterfalls, frolicking bears and a whole lot of wilderness played in our windows like a classic Alaska promotional movie. By the time we splashed down everyone was buzzing with a natural high driven by the beauty and adventure of what we were about to do. 

Note the blue potty - it will come up again... 

That high quickly turned to sweat and shivers; the plane couldn't get us particularly close to the sandy shore so we began a sort of fireman brigade with heavy packs through the icy water. Afraid I would simply tip over trying to woman-handle some of the gear, I opted for the job of holding the plane in place by a short rope ... I had to take turns lifting up each of my sandled feet from the 33 degree lake in an effort to maintain some sense of feeling. But the plane didn't float away and we managed to unload everything and everyone without incident. Yee ha!

So when you're on a trip like this and there's still the transportation around, in this case the Otter, you feel relatively connected to the regular busy crowded world. But when that transportation leaves, there is an intense and solemn moment as everyone mindfully considers how alone we now are, how isolated. It's a unique and powerful feeling. In this case, we all stopped our gear adjustments and chatting and silently watched as the Otter taxied around the lake, lifted off, circled around, and disappeared over the mountain tops. Our trip had begun.

Fast moving freezing water... tricky business.

Before we could actually begin paddling we needed to hike 2 miles over braided channels of glacial run off, along gravel plains and through thick alder. Because we had too much to carry in a single trip, some of us lucky ones got to do the trek twice which involved conversations like, "does that pile of bear scat look familiar? I don't think we went this way last time..." Or "don't cross the creek here! I just overflowed my boot tops!"

When all the gear and people were finally in one place and the water was deep enough and flowing in the right direction, we were able to bust out the boats and prepare to hit the river! Our very brave friends Steve and Leyla had purchased a much-used foldable canoe and needed to unfold the "skin" of it, connect metal ribs and frame pieces, and sacrifice their first unborn child to the water gods. The rest of us needed to use ripstop nylon inflation bags to catch air and push it down into our packrafts to inflate them. That done, we hopped in and paddled!

Beaver dam portage!

We had to pop out of our boats a few times when the river ran shallow or an obstacle blocked the way, but after a few hours we were consistently cruising and letting the scenery soak in...

J captained our new duo packraft named Sky Blue, while Kim rocked Red Foo, a tribute to LMFAO a la Indigo.

And thus we went for the next week, paddling in the heart of the day, stopping to snack and explore, choosing strong campsites, and enjoying the undying light of evening with lengthy meals, campfires, games and eventually sweet sleep.

Stopping to do some journaling.

Is that a yard sale? 

Cozy.

Each section of the river held new landscapes, wildlife and treasures. Bear tracks that had likely been walked by generations of bear, stamped into the earth with the repetitive mindful steps... Wolf pups yipping in the dense forest... Carnivorous sundew plants open and waiting for insect prey... Bears, both black and brown, curious yet respectful, just like us...

Rock hunting.

Found a cool one!

Sundew!

Snack break shinanigans...

VIKING CHAMBER POT PILLAGES. So one tradition we carry from trip to trip is to have everyone bring a costume that they are encouraged to bust out at an appropriate-to-them time. Chase had his classic fleece mumu, Jen and Michael had velvet jester hats, Team Leslie had a random assortment of leis and hats and headbands, but Steve and Leyla seemed to have forgotten to bring something...

Not so! They surprised all of us by slipping back in the line of boats, only to begin screaming and yelling, paddling like mad, and overtaking my boat dressed as vikings! The target of their pillage? Indigo's blue potty!

Success!

Team Leslie survives the Viking attack.

So after a true variety of experiences on the river, we found ourselves paddling out into a great expanse of blue - Lake Clark. Unlike the Gates of the Arctic trip of two summers ago, the white capped mountains had never stopped flanking the river, nor did they stop at the lake. We were in awe. The wildlife continued to grace us too; swans nestled their beaks into their wings, peregrine falcons circled in the sky above, and eagles dove and caught fish for their young in a nearby nest. So we enjoyed a final night and morning tucked into a wildflower meadow along the shore, even sneaking a skinny dip before the hum of the Otter brought the reality of civilization back to our ears.

Our final campsite at Lake Clark.

Our ride home...

Happy Campers.