There adventure includes snow and rain, crossing wild rivers, facing the threat of grizzly bears, observations of wolves and predation, and then the calving at the Arctic. Any questions about the importance of the Arctic NWR should be answered here. The great migrations are being destroyed by development and human encroachment. We are losing some of the most inspiring movements animals on all continents and this is the most significant large mammal movement on N. A.
You can feel the days of frustration and how these two had to work out being together 24 hours a day for five months (Kate and I can relate to that) and they are very honest about the rough points as well as the inspirations.
Here is an honest description of their beginnings – “I wanted to tell her it was an illusion, that the smaller trees, lower mountains, and cleaner air created an alternate sense of scale. But the truth was, we hadn’t done well.”
When they finally get into the caribou herd – “A few bedded down, but most milled around our camp, sniffing at our skis and poles, stopping to mouth the sweaty stains on our packs before pushing on. Chins propped on our makeshift pillows, Leanne and I grinned as the procession of furry legs and splayed hooves passed at eye level for twenty minutes.”
Just as rivers presented problems to Kate and I – they had even more intense issues of wild rivers and ice.
“As I stumbled barefoot a few steps across snow and sharp rocks, it was almost a relief to slide onto the flat ice. But then the cold set in. Sole-numbing cold crept up into my ankles, turning my lower legs into wooden stumps. Using my poles like crutches, I made my way across the brisk current, seeing but not feeling the water rise over my knees. Apart from an occasional slipperiness, I had no sense that it was ice underfoot, not gravel or rocks.
“I wanted to make the crossing look easy for Leanne’s sake, to show little pain or discomfort, but when the ice shelf on the far side collapsed beneath me, the composure I’d worked so hard to maintain vanished. Screaming, I bolted for the nearest patch of bare ground, breaking through the ice every second and third step in a trail of blood and shredded skin. When I reached the shore, I rolled onto my back and shook my cut feet skyward, howling as the pain worsened in the biting wind.”
If you are looking for the times of discomfort – here is a bleak image:
“But sleep didn’t come easily. My stomach churned, and both tossed and turned, giggling like kids as we burped and farted. Before long, I was back outside the tent, squatting, waiting for a purge. But before that could happen, every orifice in my body tightened and the urge to relieve myself suddenly disappeared. A huge, dark grizzly bear had appeared on the canyon rim across the river, and it was looking intently at this strange creature with his pants down around his ankles. I fumbled with my belt buckle, embarrassed and shocked as I hastened back to the tent, but by the time I got there, the bear had stepped back and was gone from view. A few clumps of falling earth and snow were the only signs of that the ghostly image had been real.”
ANWAR:
“There are three main reasons why the caribou go to Alaska’s coastal plain to calve, and after a week of sitting, Leanne and I had observed each firsthand. First is the nutrient-rich forage. Believed by scientists to contain the highest protein content of any food found in the herd’s range for that time period, the unique cotton grass that grows there turns half-starved mothers into milk factories for the rapidly developing calves (caribou’s milk has the highest fat content of all land mammals). Second is the lack of predators. The terrain is too wet and flat for wolves to dig dens and relatively unattractive to grizzly bears for unknown reasons, so potential for a cow or her newborn to be hunted is less likely here than elsewhere. Indeed, after running into wolves and as many as four grizzly bears a day on the spring migration, Leanne and I had yet to see evidence of either animal on the coastal plain. Finally, a steady breeze off the Arctic Ocean delays the emergence of biting insects. While friends in Old Crow and other inland areas were already swatting at the year’s first mosquitoes, Leanne and I sat with the tent doors wide open and dressed in short sleeves.
“So what will change if oil development happens in the refuge? Would the caribou keep coming? And if not, would they survive?
“In years when the majority of the caribou haven’t reached the ANWAR (because of deep snow, for example), calf mortality has skyrocketed (40% in the first month of 2001, for example, compared to the average of 20-25%) And in recent years when some cows have calved in the refuge and others have lagged behind and given birth in the Yukon, some undeniable trends have emerged: calves whose mothers made it to the contested portion of the calving grounds enjoyed higher birth weights (presumably because of better nutrition) and lower rates of mortality (less predation) and maintained their size (and hence strength) advantage over cohorts born elsewhere.”
In the end, Leanne, like Kate was fulfilled and ready to end and Karsten, like me, was regretting the loss of the walking lifestyle and the transition back.
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