My Life With Alaskan Wolves

Chautauqua – The captivating female voice beckons: “Alaska, beyond your dreams – within your reach” as scenes of the state’s majestic beauty play across the screen. It’s done so well you hardly recognize it as a commercial for the Alaska tourism industry. I figure it’s pretty effective because I was living there twenty years ago, and every time I see it I want to pack my bags.

lakeWithout a doubt my urge to return is also fueled by the rapid descent into madness we see all around us; much as it was when I originally moved there in 1975. Back then – still reeling from my Vietnam experience, the last place I wanted to be was in some big city; so I migrated north to seek my future in the remote wilderness of Alaska.

My life has been sprinkled with adventure: sometimes it was something I sought out, other times just the opposite. Living in the remote Alaskan wilderness was the former kind. Having wolves living with me as equals, not so much.

Every good story begins somewhere; and this one goes all the way back to the summer of 1963, just after my 14th birthday. For a month every summer my family traveled back home to northern Wisconsin for vacation. Near the small town of Laona there is a sizable puddle of water known as Birch Lake nestled like a jewel amid the lush forest. The family owned a lodge size cabin on the north shore, and this was where I spent those summer vacations, the place my parents grew up. Every year my grandfather, dad & uncle would take off into the woods to go trout fishing at a place known only as secret lake. Every year I’d beg them to let me tag along…every year they said no.

From years of paying close attention whenever they spoke of secret lake, I’d acquired a rough sense of what direction to travel in to find it. It wasn’t on any maps to be found, I suppose that was why it was a secret, but I was determined to find it on my own. I had more time and experience in the forest than most boy scouts, and every summer I made a point to explore deeper and deeper into the woods surrounding the cabin. After so many summers of being denied…I was determined to see secret lake this year, and prove something to my dad.

I’d planned everything out in detail; it wasn’t at all unusual for me to take off into the woods with my dog, so nobody thought a thing of it when we struck out for secret lake late one morning; without saying a word to anyone. Nobody would worry, they all knew I was good in the woods, and had Ginger for company & protection from bears. With map, compass and the confidence of youth we were off seeking adventure, and respect.

A little after mid-day we were well beyond the deepest point I’d ever hiked to, using the map and little things overheard in conversation to guide me to my goal. I remember marking my back trail, and trying to memorize the new terrain features as they appeared.

The forestry service map showed a small bowl like depression between some higher ridges about five miles from the cabin, and I’d be there in less than an hour. Like untethered free spirits, Ginger and I scampered up and down the ridges as if we’d been born to the woods and never seen a city. An hour or so later as we crested another ridge it was right there, secret lake!

I stood there catching my breath and sizing up what I was seeing. Considerably smaller than Birch lake, but still large enough to support trout and such, the lake was perhaps half a mile wide and maybe a mile long, kinda boomerang shaped. On the south shore was an old hunters shack, with an aging aluminum canoe leaning up against it. I took some pictures from the ridge before we made our way down to the lake.

The hunters shack was in fairly decent shape, and was fairly well stocked with the basic essentials, and a half full bottle of scotch. So, this was where the men would come to escape the women & kids for three days each summer, now I understood why they never brought me along. Ginger & I explored the area around the lake for a while, made acquaintance with a family of beavers, and took a lot of pictures. Long story short, I lost track of the time, and by the time I realized this, there wasn’t enough daylight left to get back home. I’d be spending the night at secret lake. No problem. Caught some fresh fish for dinner, carved my initials and the date into the surface of the rough-hewed kitchen table, and turned in for a long night.

Little beams of sunlight showing thru small holes in the roof awakened me the next morning, and along with other morning urges came the knowledge that I was “missing” from home and they would by now be looking for me. I went to open the door and have my first look at the new day, when Ginger went on alert, letting out a small growl. Something was just outside. I opened the door very slowly, there was a morning fog mist floating over the little lake giving things an eerie feel; then I saw them, a string of seven timber wolves following the shoreline, looking for breakfast.

You know that weird, tingly sensation you get when having a peak experience? That’s what I was feeling as I watched these magnificent creatures go about their morning. As they neared the shack I could see them noticing us with little or no real interest, or fear. Ginger stood her ground, yet wisely decided that more growling wasn’t called for. As for me, well, I just stood there with my jaw agape and no doubt a stupefied look on my face. I thought of my camera, but getting it would mean loosing sight of the wolves, what I really wanted to do was get closer to them…my only fear was that nobody would believe me when I told them!

Too many undesirable variables involved with trying to get closer to these wolves, so I gladly accepted the rare privilege of being allowed to just watch them. The wolf pack calmly made their way along the lake shore, looking very much like ghosts in the morning fog. Somewhere beyond the shack they departed the lake and disappeared into the woods. They were five minutes gone before I snapped out of my reverie and returned to the present moment. About half way home Ginger and I encountered my uncle Webb…who was following my tracks & back trail markers. Safely back home there was less music to face than expected; I got a sound verbal recrimination for causing so many to worry, but that was it. The fact that I found my way to secret lake on my own, and back, might have impressed my dad and granddad but if so they never once showed it, and in the end I was right, nobody believed me about the wolves; but that didn’t matter at all…I was hooked.

From that moment on I knew that the life I wanted was living in the wilderness, being that close to nature, having that kind of experience. After surviving adolescence, high school, Vietnam and my own stupidity; fifteen years later I moved to the Alaskan wilderness with my wife, and daughter, to finally make that dream real. We’d moved to Ketchikan in 1976 with the goal of having a wilderness lifestyle; and knew that even though Ketchikan didn’t meet our requirements, it made for a good jumping off point. It took some time for the cosmic wheels to turn just right, and everything to fall into place, but they did. By the summer of ’79’ we had acquired a float house, and contract to provide wilderness PR services for the Cape Fox native corporation, up in George Inlet.

lakeThe corporation provided a free tow to move our float house to Gem Cove, but due to shallow waters and gnarly rocks the tug refused to enter the cove; and we were on our own as far as getting safely inside, and moored. We had equipped ourselves with two serviceable boats; an older wood hull work boat, and a small 12 ft. skiff: so with mom and daughter pulling with the big boat and myself making course corrections with the skiff, we slipped neatly into the cove on the high tide. After the initial bustle of getting settled in, we all sat on the back deck together for a break. When we quit moving about making noise…the entire cove fell silent except for the faint sounds of pristine nature. As if to welcome us; a pair of bald eagles circled overhead, no doubt lamenting the decline of the neighborhood. Continue reading . . .

SF Source Augureye Express  August 2015

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