Finding Water

Tsirku River "Eagle Float" put-in

As it turns out, my passion for rivers and rowing has followed me to Alaska. In addition to being a part of the sea kayaking program with Alaska Mountain Guides, I will also be spending a considerable amount of time on the river rowing through the Chilkat Bald Eagle Preserve. The "Eagle Float," as referred to by the other guides, takes clients through the heart of bald eagle territory where, during the salmon runs, hundreds to thousands of bald eagles congregate and feed on the various types of salmon that attempt to find their way upstream. The sockeye are just now starting to begin their push up to their spawning grounds.

The Tsirku River, which feeds into the Chilkat River 20 miles upstream of Haines, is referred to as a braided river, fed by the high alpine glaciers that carry sediment out to the ocean. It is unlike any river I have ever been on, engaging an entirely different aspect of what it means to read water. After my first few runs during guide training, it was clear that finding the ripples that form in 4 inches of water as opposed to those that form in 3 inches can make all the difference. The water is also full of glacial silt, reducing visibility to less than a few millimeters below the surface. A lot of scraping, a lot of sculling, and working desperately to avoid the looming "booter" is typical in a day's float. (booter - noun: the discovery of water deeper than the 15" of protection waterproof boots provide.)

Growing up in the Southeast US, I developed a love for waterways and the many ways of exploring them. From powering oar rigs down the deep river gorges of Southern Appalachia to gliding through the tidal estuaries of Coastal Georgia, it is no question that I am a boater. The connection one feels with their environment through being on a body of water is like no other. Being in a current, floating through miles of remote wilderness, has a way of bringing me into a focused mentality, concentrating on nothing more than the present, where I am, and what I am doing. There is never a desire to occupy my mind with thoughts or concerns that exist off the river. Water has provided itself, in more ways that one, a necessity to my survival.

Now that I find myself on the glacial waters of Southeast Alaska, I feel as though I am being pulled back to the basics of what is at the core of every outdoor sport: being in a place. The local rivers here may be lacking in exhilarating whitewater, but they make up for it through spectacular landscapes that rival any great vista around the world. Every horizon is occupied by its own mountain range, complete with cascading waterfalls and rocky spines that always require more than just a quick glance. Each day, a break in the clouds seems to highlight a new peak instilling the curiosity of "what's on the other side?" Many a night here is spent pouring over aerial photos and topographic maps of mountains and rivers, studying the endless supply of adventuring that is to be done. It already is becoming clear that just a single summer will just barely be enough to scratch the surface.