Chuck and I got separated in the “flats” as stated before. The flats are about 200 miles long and increasing the width of the Yukon up to 20 miles wide filled with islands and gravel bars. One can be separated by an island and quickly loose contact even when you have radios, which we have. Our radios have a 2 ½ mile reception, but that is only when the area is unimpeded by hills, mountains and forested bluffs. We had already agreed to meet at a designated location in case of this separation and this actually was a reality applied. Our meeting place was Steven’s Village, but it was not as easy a place to locate as the map depicted. It did work this time, but it is very possible that one of us could have missed the village and floated further down stream. Once we miss a point on this river it is not possible to paddle back up stream. One can imagine what problems would occur then.

We went into Steven’s Village to do the laundry and to shower. As we tied up the canoes on the community landing, we quickly noticed junk and trash scattered all around. As we ascended the bluff a small scattered residential community, refuse filled, unkempt, revealed itself. There were deteriorating log cabins, unmowed living space around the cabins and we saw two young Indians on a marshy road. One of the Indians was in great pain. His elbow was dislocated and he had just injured himself before we came. Chuck and I offered to assist but he was very offensive, so we decided to let it pass. Several others came up on a four-wheel motor scooter and drove him off. Chuck had noticed he and his partner were drunk. I realized it when I saw him walk away with a bottle with only a shot of bourbon left in a fifth. We realized that we were not welcome by this offensive group and decided to leave. As we paddled away, the hurt fellow we really wanted to assist cussed and swore at us until we were out of hearing range. He then shot firecrackers which made us both wince because at first we thought he could be firing a rifle.

Later in the week, while I was camping alone, a Canadian named Bruce Duffee told me he was threatened in Steven’s Village – what a place! It is not dissimilar to Ft. Yukon, which is known as a place to avoid. I recommend that everyone should avoid these two places – let them be unhappy by themselves. It is too wonderful out here in God’s Country (Alaska) to be distracted by a few unhappy hateful people. We left and are in total bliss. Our next destination – the only bridge that crosses the Yukon in the USA called Dalton Hwy Bridge. This highway terminates at the highest accessible point in the USA called Prudhoe Bay or Deadhorse on the Arctic Ocean. I had mentioned earlier both Chuck and I on separate occasions drove to Prudhoe Bay. It was years ago, but was the inspiring reason why I decided to make this river voyage. Several miles upstream of the bridge we encountered a drifting self made boat replicating an 1890’s craft. It had a sail when usable, which rarely is the case. I have not been able to use my sail because the wind is always in our face. Their craft’s boom acted as their tent ridge. It was occupied by a German couple – David Dirk and Sabine Kocks. David is a freelance photographer for German TV stations and Sabine is an engineer doing surveying work. They have spent several years building this copy of the gold rush miner’s boats of the 1890’s. They started at Bennett Lake, British Columbia by the famous railroad track from Skagway, AK. They built their craft by using the old tools and logging saw, etc. Once constructed they sealed it with hemp and tar. It is about 20’ long and fully supplied. They had sailed and rowed all the lakes to the Yukon River and then rowed and drifted to the point where we intercepted them. They had actually just started again drifting because they had stored their craft at Beaver, AK for the winter. This is where they had completed their journey from last summer’s drift. This summer, they will complete the journey to the Bering Sea. David, while in his early 20’s, and a few friends had already done this journey in a raft they had constructed. We enjoyed their company that evening at the bridge and the next morning. David is very thorough and has a vast amount of interests. He stops at every village, at every spot of interest and at every deteriorating log cabin on the river. He now knows how to build the old log cabins and has done this too in Germany. Sabine and David are full of personality and truly enhanced our adventure.

We ate, showered, and laundered our clothes at the Dalton Bridge Motel and restaurant. Really nice people. Brett, our waiter and assistant manager, went out of his way to help us. The motel has it’s own laundry, not commercial, but he did ours. He sent our mail and there is no mailbox on site. I had broken down on the trip to Prudhoe Bay several years ago and I ran into Andy, one of the people that assisted me. By the way, the road to Prudhoe Bay is gravel and dirt – not paved and is over 450 miles!

After several camps we bypassed Rampart and stopped at Tanana, which in Alaska is pronounced Tan-an-naw. This is a town on the Yukon River that is at the discharge point of the Tanana River into the Yukon. This town is larger than most but like most of the river towns there is no road connection to the outside. Air and boat is their connection. We camped in their free public park, shopped in their hardware/grocery store and enjoyed the river town. This is a friendly town with a nice school and school library where we could use their internet computers. The town also has a fine laundry and shower but Chuck and I didn’t use it. I met another German immigrant named Christian, who has a tour dog sled team for his winter employment and in the summer has a Salmon fish camp. He was hanging scores of Salmon halves from his log structure. We asked how they dry their Salmon, because in Florida or the Southern USA, the fish would soon spoil and because of the flies they would have maggots covering them. He said the cool, dry, windy weather here is one advantage. They usually smoke the halves in a slow smoldering, covered rack area until dry to prevent maggots. It takes about 3-4 weeks to accomplish the drying procedure. In his case, he was drying his Salmon and putting a very, very weak mixture of Malathion on the halves. These Salmon halves were “Dog Salmon”, to be eaten by his sled dogs over the year. The insecticide does not affect his dogs due to the very weak mixture, he stated. Dog Salmon is not a breed of Salmon by the way. In Alaska, Dog Salmon is Salmon that is fed to the dogs. It is the Salmon caught as it is dying after breeding. The Salmon all die when they breed upstream each year – hence, the name “Dog Salmon”.

Again, Chuck and I got separated! I started an hour or so earlier than Chuck as he wanted to send more pocketmail information over the telephone. He would catch up after his mail discharge was our belief. He never caught up. We were on the radios but didn’t connect. The next morning I thought he had paddled past me to Lange Island about 3 miles farther down stream, so I started early to get together, it didn’t happen because he was not on that island, he was on an island about a mile upstream of me. The wind and waves were extreme, the wind 30-40 mph and where I was, the waves were 2-3’ high. Note: This is in a River – not a Lake! It was so extreme that when my canoe turned away from the wind I was not able to trim the bow back into the waves. I decided to set up camp on the shore at 10AM and wait out Mother Nature’s test. It lasted until about 8PM. The wind and waves receded some then, so I decided to paddle all night to catch up with Chuck. At about 11PM (2300) I discovered Chuck’s camp about 8 miles down stream from my 10AM set up. He, too, had had a difficult day. I woke him up and said I was going on and would camp in an obvious place and we would rejoin the next day. The next day about 10AM Chuck came by when I was repacking my gear from my night paddle, which had lasted until 4AM. He said he would drift down the Western channel and do some writing until I caught up after my packing. After I was packed I set out to overtake Chuck, but No Chuck Again. He had gone one way and I had gone another. At 1600 (4PM) I set up camp again on an island which Chuck missed so he paddled into Ruby, AK. The next morning I paddled into Ruby where AT LAST we rejoined.

Ruby, Alaska! What a place. Eagle, AK is a classic historical venue; Circle, AK, Tanana, Dalton Hwy bridge are enjoyable, friendly environments, but Ruby is a place no book mentions, no paddler cites and no people discuss on the river. Why? I can’t tell you. The people here in Ruby are, to the person, the friendliest, most helping, and outwardly servicing group I have yet to meet on the water. The city has built an open cabin, a covered fire pit and an outhouse for “drifters” to reside in while they are in their town. Drifters, to them, are anyone who comes down stream whether they paddle, raft, sail, or drift. While I was getting oriented Laura Vines went out of her way to acquaint me with the town. Later, while I was in the laundry she came in and we had a wonderful discussion. She works with the Indian council which is exceptional in its management from her point of view and mine as well. This city’s Indian council leadership should be the example for other villages to follow, up and down the river – most especially – Ft. Yukon and Steven’s Village. Chuck and I can’t say how many Indians came by from youth to the elderly with always a smile and a genuine warmth. One fine Indian lady in her 80’s and a leader in the community invited Chuck and I to a Potlatch that evening, for example. I cannot say how proud I am of this group in Ruby. A Potlatch, by the way, is when an Indian family puts on a very devotional ceremony for a deceased family member. The Potlatch this night was for Veronica, who died several years ago. The party lasted all night with music, all kinds of delicious foods and most important, the entire Ruby community paying homage. We decided not to go because we did not want to be any burden, but several people invited us. Again, a real honor from the fine Indian and others in the community. Prior to Laura coming, while I was washing clothes, Eileen McGlynn was also washing many clothes. I did not have soap, so typically she offered some of hers. She filled out the rest of the city orientation as well as showed how gracious she herself was. Her son, Al, was with her. Well mannered, but full of spirit! One of her relations is one of the last makers of snowshoes, a dying art, and is an Iditorod competitor racing in minus 60 degrees, 12-14 days with lack of sleep and nourishment. Eileen, to me, was a typical strong proud lady of the North and I got to meet her. Chuck and I were so impressed with the whole environment that I decided to write a Thank You letter to the mayor Billie McCarty and to ALL THE PEOPLE of Ruby, which we did and personally delivered to his home. I/we do hope he promulgates this letter for all the denizens to see and read. What a wonderful group of people. Thanks to them all.

The next morning we started late, about 10:30. It soon was raining just to bring us back to reality. We were also back to the beauty of this vast beautiful wilderness. We paddled for 6 hours or so on our way to Galena. At about 1630 (4:30PM) we hit a real windstorm with very high waves. We had decided to conform to all the book writers and the current river paddlers a week or so prior. Whenever bad times occur get off the river and enjoy a campsite or a nice meal and wait for the winds, waves, or extended rain periods to terminate. We did it for the first time this time. It made things great! The wind and the waves rushed by while we set up a nice camp and enjoyed the breeze through our tents and a nice meal. The next morning at 6:30AM we were back on the river with the wind and water in a calmer mode. However, just before we got into Galena at 1400 (2PM) the wind really started blowing. We pulled into Galena and walked to the old section of town that is adjacent to the cargo air base that used to be an Air Force base, now converted to civilian. This town is divided into two sections – the old which runs right along the river and has two nice grocery stores, a post office, a restaurant/bar and a liquor store and the new section which is two miles away with a laundry, shower, grocery store, city building, etc. We are camped right on a bluff overlooking the Yukon. The wind is whistling by at the moment and to me this is God’s gift of beauty. Till then Enjoy.