Moose Hunting in Alaska, 1972 Day 6, Part 13

Day Six

We slept in my Alaskan Camper that night, snuggled in our sleeping bags, while the propane stove ran most of the night. By morning our breaths had covered the windows with heavy frost. I got up first and went to the door.

“Christ all mighty” I said. “There’s six inches of snow out here.”

“You’re kidding!”

“If there’s six inches here, there may me two feet around the cabin.”

“I’m heading up now”, I said as I climbed into my pants and put on boots.

“What about breakfast“ Dan asked?”

“Haven’t got time - we may need the whole day.”

I brushed the snow off my cycle as Doug came out the door. He got his started with some difficulty, and we adjusted the carburetor. The four of us headed up the trail, but Dan and Ed soon fell behind and then disappeared as Doug and I went around a bend. We felt harried. If too much fell we would have to leave the cycles and walk to the cabin. We knew the snow would most likely melt, but there was a chance of getting up there and being snowed in. The sun came out, and we slogged through wet snow for awhile. Much of it melted before we went half way, but the trail turned muddy and slow. My cycle slipped out from under me. I got up, righted it, and kicked the starter lever several times before it caught.
A warm sunny day eventually emerged, and the snow melted completely by the time we reached the cabin. That which had made our adrenalin surge in the morning appeared to have been an overwrought reaction by afternoon. We felt mixed emotions - the high rush of facing dangerous challenges had diminished to a tranquil relief.
The remainder of the day mirrored that of yesterday - hard work and silence with only an occasional variation. We carried everything across the “big slide” by late afternoon. Dan and Ed started hiking the last three miles while Doug and I ferried loads back and forth to the trucks.
I passed the hikers on the last round, and then came to a small creek. It was about twenty feet wide and divided into two branches by a gravel bar. The trail dropped over the edge into the narrower channel, crossed the bar, and then plunged into the wider, deeper part of the stream.

I heard Doug coming up as I stopped at the edge to consider the crossing. I popped the clutch and shot over the edge. The water sprayed over my legs and hissed steam as it hit the exhaust. I raised off the seat as I approached the far shore, bent my legs, and gave a sharp upward jerk on the handle bars. The front tire rose slightly off the ground as I climbed the bank, but the rear wheel skidded to the left and the cycle began to fall from under me. I took my foot came off the peg, struck the ground with a sharp blow, and righted the cycle as I let off the throttle, bringing the machine to a stop. Wow! That was neat. I got off the cycle feeling like a Pro, and turned to see Dan standing next to Doug. They were looking in my direction, no doubt marveling at my expertise, but I knew it was just as likely I could be wallowing in the middle of the stream bed right then.
GO TO: Day 6, Part 14