Moose Hunting in Alaska, 1972 Day 5, Part 11

Day five

An inch of snow blanketed the ground the next morning. Doug took his camera and went outside in his boots and long johns. The rest of us took photos of him.

“It’s a shock to see snow this early. Its only August.”

“We’re in high country, and this is Alaska. We could wake to a foot of snow one of these mornings. I doubt that it would stay long, but it could give us a lot of misery.”

“It got cold last night. I nearly froze my fanny off. The coffee pot has an inch of ice. Lets get the stove lit and warm the place up a little.”

“How’s the meat doing. We don’t want it to freeze if we can help it.”

“It seems okay; firm but not frozen.”

We intended to transport the equipment and half the meat back to the trucks that day, and began by moving the cargo across a corner of the lake in the raft - a short cut to the trail. The snow had melted by the time the raft was unloaded.. Dan had a brain storm - to build a travois to drag behind the cycle.

“Well, it worked for the Indians; I don’t see why it won’t work for us”. Dan said in defense of his idea.

“We won’t know unless we try”, I added somewhat doubtfully, “If it has a weakness it will be in the horse. There will be a lot of weight on that back tire.”

Ed stood over by a stand of tall birch. “A couple of these ought to do for the shafts”, he called.
We felled the trees, trimmed branches and cut cross pieces. Once readied, an argument broke out as to the best method of construction. Dan and Ed favored one school while Doug and I spoke in opposition. The debate ended in disgruntled mumbling on our part while the other two went about finishing the job. Doug and I stood aside making snide remarks about inferior engineering, poor construction and impending disaster. This appeared to produce enough consternation on their part to give us a smug satisfaction.
Ed and I climbed on to simulate baggage. Doug drove the cycle while Dan walked be. We rambled over ruts and boulders of a rocky washout on our way to the baggage. The travois passed the test.

“Its gonna be slow, but I guess it’ll work, and we won’t have to carry much weight”, someone judged.

We loaded the meat onto the travois, Doug mounted the cycle again while Dan and Ed Walked beside. They each carried a light pack of about 30 pounds. I lowered a front shoulder into my pack, hoisted it onto my back, and then said, “I’ll ferry this to the ‘big slide’ and come back for one of your packs”. With that I popped the clutch, and started the three mile ride down the trail. The “big slide”, was a washout that swept out of the mountains and blasted a wide path as it twisted and turned through the narrow ravine. The slide was bone dry, but large boulders and uprooted trees told the story of repeated natural violence. It was the worse part of the trail - a half-mile of impassible terrain that snaked its way down the valley. Everything had to be carried over it, and a cycle was more hindrance than help. The travois lumbered along while I shuttled back and forth between the lake and slide. Once I had moved my loads to the slide I began packing them across. I took the first over on the cycle, left it there, and hiked back for another. Maneuvering around boulders on foot didn’t take as much time or energy. The others arrived shortly thereafter, and we carried the remainder to the other side, each laboring in silence. The cool weather and silent wilderness made for a comfortable drudgery in solo.

We followed the same plan on the other side. I shuttled stuff to the trucks while the three brought the travois. We were back in camp by eight that night, stored the meat in Doug’s camper, and crowded into mine.
GO TO: Day 5, Part 12