W. Fork Atigun Weekender

Dan rides the waves in the West Fork of the Atigun River

I suddenly felt a sense of relief as the last bit of warm blood vacated the few remaining vessels in my feet. I was no longer subjected to the excruciating pain caused by the snow and pools of slush that were penetrating my sneakers. I somehow convinced myself that no feeling is better than endless stinging. But I already knew that repeated inflictions of my feet to the cold over the years had resulted in permanent numbness to some of my toes. At this point I still didn't care. I just wanted to keep moving downhill to a lower elevation where green tundra and the first wildflowers of the summer dotted the valley bottom.

We headed north for the weekend to the Brooks Range in hopes of crossing over two passes and floating a portion of the upper Itkillik River before returning to the highway. This plan abruptly failed. A cool start to summer left large expanses of snow lingering in these mountains that define the divide between water flowing north to the Arctic Ocean from that draining southward towards the Bering Sea and north Pacific. We retreated back in our tracks after attempting to climb a sketchy ice covered pass with our inadequate gear. Instead we found ourselves bouncing down the whitewater of the West Fork of the Atigun River in a stunning Arctic valley.

Ted plunges up to his crotch as he crosses endless stretches of snow on our way over the continental divide. We delicately placed our weight on the white surface in hopes of warding off additional swims in the bottomless snow. It would be another week or so before the snow would setup and transform into a solid walking surface.

Despite the rotten snow and laborious trudging the scenery was absolutely spectacular as we descended into the upper reaches of the Atigun River.

We really were happy to be out in the mountains.

Another water crossing near the headwaters of the Atigun River flushes the cold snow out of our shoes.

We had to hike for several miles down valley to a spot where the shallow braided channels consolidated into one primary deeper channel.

Resourceful Sky chomps away on an abandonded caribou rack. She could survive a long time on small mammals and other treasures in the wild. The caribou had moved down out of the mountains to the coastal plain in preparation for calving.

The West Fork of the Atigun is pinched between the exposed bedrock. We portaged this significant drop. The remainder the river was primarily fun wave trains and navigating through partially submerged rocks.



Videography from the West Fork of the Atigun.

Preparing for the final leg: a cold rain and driving headwind forced us to vacate the boats when our waterway skirted the Alaska Pipeline and road. Mildly hypothermic we ran the last 15-miles to the truck along the muddy highway outfitted in all our clothes and life jackets with the hopes of getting a ride...no ride came.