The League’s Kate Greiner: “Report from the Coastal Plain of the Arctic Refuge”
DAY 1 (June 7, 2007):
This was my first time in Alaska and I was excited to see one of its most celebrated, yet most controversial wilderness areas—the 1002. It took two bush planes to get us there from Fairbanks. One from Fairbanks to Coldfoot and another from Coldfoot to our camping spot on the 1002—by the Katakturuk River (empties into Camden Bay and the Beaufort Sea), north of the Sadlerochit Mountains (northern-most range in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge), and about 12 miles from the coast.
Flying from Coldfoot to the 1002 was like watching stars twinkle on a clear night, but the stars were on the ground—dotted pools of water reflected the sun’s light as we flew by 1,500 feet in the air. We kept our eyes peeled for wildlife, but at this elevation, it was not easy. Watching the mountains float by and listening to the hum of the plane’s engine was calming enough to put me to sleep for a good ten minutes.
Dirk, our pilot, was a little weary to land—the wind was blowing between 40-50 miles per hour—but I was thoroughly impressed with his skills. We landed on the tundra like a helicopter. I was the first to jump out of the plane after Dirk. He warned me that the wind was strong, but I totally underestimated its force and had to grab hold of the plane before loosing balance. It was a cool wind that cut right through me. Luckily my rain coat was easily accessible in my day pack.
After unpacking the plane, which didn’t take that long, we pushed it—not an easy task—about ten feet back so Dirk had a bit more flat ground to take off on. I was looking forward to being in the wilderness, but it was unsettling to watch him fly off towards the Brooks Range knowing we were left to fend for ourselves for the next five days.
I grew up camping in the Shenandoah Mountains, but never had the experience of putting up a tent in high winds. It took all five of us to put up just one. Four people had to hold a tent corner each as one person would stake it and make sure all bags were accounted for. A rain-fly almost got away from us, but thank goodness there was willow bush to catch it because I don’t think my legs would’ve carried me fast enough. After one was up, we would scour the ground for loose, preferably BIG, rocks to hoist on top of each tent stake to keep them in the ground. Digging up rocks, the dirt felt good between my fingers, but it was an exhausting task.
About three hours into this ordeal, we had four tents up and two more to go (one being the “kitchen” tent). We were working on Ginny’s tent when we heard a loud snap from one of the other tents. Upon inspection, we found that one of my poles snapped in half because of the pressure of the wind. The back of the tent was actually buckling. Cyn and Bruce were resourceful and made a splint for the break using two steak poles and duck tape.
So winds are blowing at 50 mph, only four tents are up (one with a splinted broken pole) with two more to go, and we’re all getting tired and hungry. If we were camping in the lower 48, the darkening night would be added pressure, but we had 24-hours of beautiful Arctic sun light. Being around seven at night, the light was like a setting sun—colorful, casting long shadows. I took a break to dunk my water bottle in a near by creek. This experience put a big smile on my face. Never before had I ever been able to drink water from its source. It was cold and clear and oh so good.
The kitchen tent, shaped like a circus tent, shivered in the wind, but underneath, there was respite from the wind’s roar. The five us (Cyn our awesome guide from Maryland who found a home and her love in Alaska; Bruce, a passionate conservationist, outdoorsman, and League board member from New York; Ginny, an inspiring breast cancer survivor from San Francisco, living life to the fullest; Gail, an environmentalist and community college English teacher from Washington state, hoping for a retirement refuge in Alaska; and me, an avid cyclist from D.C. exploring the Arctic Refuge on her two feet) sat in a small circle enjoying hot coco, cool conversation, and looking forward to the warmth of our sleeping bags under the light of the sun.
