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Cruisin' on the River

8/5/2023

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In May/June 2023, Jill and I toured Alaska by land and by sea. We traveled from Fairbanks to Whittier by motor coach and train and then sailed from Whittier to Vancouver aboard the Majestic Princess.  We had a blast!

Click HERE to read a short introduction to our Cruisetour.

This story, part of a series, recounts our 50-mile cruise - the Chulitna Gorge Journey - on board the McKinley Queen.  I was well-informed about life along the waterways we toured  and felt exhilarated by the ride!
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Talkeetna, Alaska (June 1, 2023) With half a day behind us and half a day to go, Jill and I were off to a great start!

That morning, we boarded a train in Denali for a five-hour tour through the Alaska wilderness. The scenery was breathtaking – vast expanses of land, soaring mountains, a deep gorge, and crystal-clear streams. Our ‘GoldStar Dome’ experience was everything I had hoped for, and more!

It was nearly 2PM when we reached the train depot in Talkeetna.

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, I thought, as Jill and I prepared to embark on the second leg of that day’s journey to Mt. McKinley Princess Wilderness Lodge in nearby Trapper Creek.

It should be exciting!

A couple of months back, Jill said, “Dad, when we reach Talkeetna, we could take the Princess bus from the station to the lodge, or we could reach it by boat.”

“By boat?” I asked as I thought back to the day and a half we spent in that turn-of-the-century town last year.

I remembered that Talkeetna was located at the confluence of three rivers – the Susitna, Chulitna, and Talkeetna – but for the life of me, I could not envision how we might travel along those rivers, or any river for that matter, to the lodge.

“Yep. Princess has an optional excursion that we can book. It’s a three-hour river cruise – an enhanced version of the one we took last year – that will drop us near the lodge. Are you game?”

My mind wandered back to that day, September 7th. That morning, Jill and I took a two-hour, 20-mile cruise on the Susitna before we drove to Denali National Park. The sights weren’t spectacular, but the cruise was relaxing, fun, and informative.

“Sure,” I replied. “Let’s go!”

And with that, Jill signed us up for the Chulitna Gorge Journey, a 50-mile adventure that included a half-mile nature stroll to a Dena’ina Indian encampment and trapper’s cabin.


The tour is operated by family-owned Mahay’s Jet Boat Adventures, which was founded by Steve Mahay in 1975.
“We strive to bring you a unique and untouched piece of one of Alaska’s treasures.
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“Being in the foothills of Denali, amidst the untamed wilderness, this ‘Last Frontier,’ has enabled us to provide this amazing piece of Alaska. Our goal is to present you with both a depiction of Alaska’s rustic past and the beauty of how it stands today.”

Mahay’s Jet Boat Adventures, based in downtown Talkeetna, operates a fleet of six custom-made jet boats, including our ride that day – the blue and white McKinley Queen, a 55-passenger jetboat capable of speeds up to 50 mph.
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I took this photo of the boats from the train as we neared the depot in Talkeetna. The McKinely Queen was tied to the floating dock, while five boats were moored, one after the other, to the shore.  

Huh, I thought. They’re all blue and white.
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It was a quarter past three when we climbed on board. The temperature was in the low 50s, there was a breeze from the southwest, and a bit of blue sky poked through the fluffy white clouds. While there was rain in the forecast, it was dry that moment. 
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I read this blurb on the company’s website:

“If Denali is out, you will be afforded one of the best views in the State, as she is framed by the very picturesque Tokosha Mountains.”
Well, Jill and I had our fingers crossed because Denali, the tallest mountain in North America, had so far eluded us on our trips through Alaska.
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Maybe, I thought, we’ll get lucky. 

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Our skipper’s name was Ian. Before we left the pier, he said, “The Susitna, Chulitna, and Talkeetna are ‘braided rivers’ – a type of river formed by an ever-changing network of streams.”

I rapidly jotted down notes in the notepad app on my phone.
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“Those streams are separated by small, often temporary islands composed of pulverized rock, gravel, and sediment carried downstream from glaciers.”


I had learned about braided rivers when we toured Denali National Park two days back. The Savage and Teklanika were shallow, with not much more than a trickle of water, and there was no way for a boat to run those rivers.  
“My job today is to find those streams deep enough to safely navigate.”

I’m happy to report that Ian did his job. We never bottomed out, nor were we otherwise in trouble.
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Whew!

Our guide’s name was Holly. She shared stories about the plants, trees, and wildlife as we cruised the three rivers, and on our nature walk. I enjoyed listening as she spoke because her stories were interesting, and her presentation was well-honed.

Holly had another role, perhaps even more important than her storytelling: She carried a 12-gauge shotgun in case we met a moose or a bear – “something that can happen when you’re in the wilderness,” she said.

For the record, we did not cross paths with a moose…or a bear.
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Whew (again)!!

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In the pic of Holly above, which I snapped on our walk, she stood in a bed of fiddlehead ferns that thrived – grew wild in abundance – in the wet areas of northwestern North America.  

“It’s late in the growing season, so you cannot see this, but when these plants first emerged, they were tightly coiled and scroll-like, similar to the head of a fiddle. You can eat fiddleheads, which taste like asparagus, when they are young, but they become toxic after they unfurl. Do not touch these plants, and if you do, do not put your hands in your mouth or near your eyes. Please!”

Good to know, right?!” Jill said to me with a wink.

“Well, I guess I won’t take a bouquet home to mom,” I chuckled.
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Ian eased the McKinley Queen from the pier, located on the Talkeetna River, and then made a 180-degree turn. Less than a quarter mile downstream, the Talkeetna flows into the Susitna. Ian made a lazy right-hand turn into the Susitna and then…he gunned the engine. We shot forward at close to the boat’s maximum speed... 

WHAT A RUSH!
…before he throttled back and reduced the power to reach a cruising speed of 30-35 mph.
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The Susitna follows a winding course that flows downstream from the northeast – from the Susitna Glacier – to the southwest, where it empties into Cook Inlet. We headed upstream, toward the Indian encampment.  

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“Like last year, there’s not much to see,” I said to Jill as we cruised past another narrow island of trees.

“Certainly nothing like the beautiful scenery that we saw this morning,” Jill answered.
And that was the truth – at least, it was the truth in my humble opinion.

There are many islands – some temporary, some permanent – and plenty of trees to look at, and I feel exhilarated as we race and bounce along the waterways, I thought. But there are no soaring or snow-capped mountains – at least, none I can see – or truly picturesque landscapes.
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As if she had listened to our conversation or heard my thoughts, Holly said to all, “The Susitna and Chulitna are functional rivers. They are used primarily for fishing, transportation to hunting areas, and for boat tours, like ours. They are an important source of revenue – tourist dollars – for this region of Alaska.”

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Ian added, “These rivers serve another purpose in the winter, when the top five or six feet of water freezes solid. Then, the rivers become a natural highway for cross-country skiers, snowmobilers, and even folks out for a drive in their car.

“The ice is destructive, though, when it breaks up in the spring,” Ian continued as he pointed with an outstretched hand to the trees on an island we passed. “Take a look at those trees. They’re scarred a few feet up from the ground – the bark is gone, and it’s gone because ice floe hit those trees.”

Not only were the trees scarred, but there was still ice on the ground in some places.
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Yep, it’s a long, harsh winter.

We reached a jetty about three-quarters of an hour into our tour. It was the jumping off point for our nature walk. Holly tied off the boat, and then we – about 30 passengers – followed her as she climbed a staircase that led from the dock to dry land. 

(I included this photo so that you had a better look at the shotgun she carried on her right shoulder!)
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The encampment was a quarter mile up a dirt path – an easy walk – that meandered through tall trees, bushes, and other vegetation. 

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Holly stepped past a fire pit and stopped in front of a lean-to made of tree trunks, perhaps five feet tall and 15 feet wide at the open end. The lean-to was braced by three stout sections of wood, while the sheltered side was made from a series of narrow trunks, or possibly tree limbs, that were laid side by side at a slant.

“Dena’ina are Alaska Native people – Athabascans – who arrived in southcentral Alaska between 1,000 and 1,500 years ago,” said Holly. “The name Dena’ina means ‘the people.’ It is similar to the word ‘Diné,’ which the Navajo people call themselves.

“The Athabascan were a hunter-gatherer culture,” she continued, “that organized in regional bands comprised of several villages. A once large population now numbers around 1,000, and less than 50 speak Dena’ina as a first language.”

Someone in our group asked, “Did the Athabascan live here year-round?”
​
“First, remember that this is a reproduction, although there was an actual encampment not far away. But to answer your question, an encampment was a temporary home, usually for 30 to 40 people, that served as a fish camp during the summer months. The Athabascan used a fire pit, similar to the one behind you, to smoke the fish they caught – mostly salmon – and they slept under the lean-to.”  

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It was a short walk to the trapper’s cabin, where we also saw a food cache and a larger lean-to with pelts – fox, lynx, marten, and other animals.
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“A trapper’s cabin, like the one you see here – by the way, it’s authentic – was a small log cabin typically built along trap lines. It was a simple shelter – just one room – without a foundation that was easy and quick to make.”  
“What’s a trap line?” I asked.
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“It’s a route along which a trapper would set a series of traps to snag whatever animal might wander by,” Holly answered.

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I poked my head through the front door of the cabin for a look-see inside. The door, by the way, swung out rather than in so that a bear could not open it. The room was maybe 12 feet deep by 16 feet wide, and not too high. It was spartan by our standards, but adequate space for a backcountry trapper.

Someone asked about the plants that grew on the roof.

“Like a sod roof, those plants and the dirt they are in,” answered Holly, “were used to fill gaps in the logs and insulate the cabin.

“The cabin on stilts is called a food cache, or a bear box. It’s designed to store food outdoors in a way that prevents bears and other animals from getting at what’s in it.”
Ingenious…and fascinating, I thought.

“Dad, do you think you could have survived this kind of life?” Jill had a twinkle in her eye and a mischievous grin on her face.

I’m a voracious reader of stories about of the old west and have often fantasized about the days of the mountain man – an explorer who lived in the wilderness and survived by hunting, fishing, and trapping. It was a hard life, to be sure. 
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I grinned at Jill and said, “Nah – I’m not tough enough!” 

The path was circular, and we soon reached the pier, where we reboarded the McKinley Queen. It was time to push on.

Fifteen minutes later, Ian slowed the boat and then stopped, as Holly had spotted an eagle’s nest high atop a tree. 
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“That’s an active nest,” said Holly, “with a pair of bald eagles and two eaglets. The eaglets should fledge before the end of this month, and then stick around for another month or two to learn from their parents.”  


“How large is that nest?” Jill asked.
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“Bald eagles have the largest nest of any birds. Typically, they are four to six feet in diameter and up to three feet deep – although they can be larger. And on average, a nest weighs 1,000 pounds.”
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I poked Jill in the arm, and said, “That’s a lot of twigs and sticks!”   

Ian maneuvered the boat to the right – heading north – when we reached the Chulitna River.

“How’d you like to see Denali,” he asked.

My ears perked up, and my head swiveled from side to side to catch a glimpse of that mountain.

“Show them, Holly.”
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And Holly showed us…this beautiful photo of Denali taken on a day that the Tall One had revealed itself. 

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That would have been something to see with my own eyes!
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“Who would like this photo?” she asked. Hands went up, and Holly shared it with a phone-to-phone link.

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We reached the Chulitna Gorge as we neared our destination. There were steep walls of rock, with trees and other vegetation, on either side of the river that were upwards of a couple hundred feet tall in places.
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The gorge was formed through erosion, the continuous flow of water over the rock for hundreds of thousands of years or more. And as it was, it will continue to be, as the water cuts deeper and deeper into the rock for millennia to come. 

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And then we reached our debarkation point.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Jill exclaimed. Her arm was extended towards the bow of the ship.

I looked in that direction.

Ian was slowly guiding the boat towards the rocky shoreline. I didn’t see a dock, although I spotted a couple of guys who stood on shore.

Apparently, that was where we would disembark from the McKinley Queen.
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How are we going to do that, I wondered.  

I did not have to wonder long because Ian said, “This is the drop point for anyone staying at the Princess lodge. Holly will open a set of stairs that will extend over the side of the boat. The two guys you see will guide you as you climb down.”

And that was what we did, one by one, 15 to 20 of us in total. It wasn’t hard, at all.
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We walked to the top of a small hill, where we boarded shuttle buses for a five-minute ride to the Mt. McKinley Princess Wilderness Lodge.

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After we checked in and cleaned up, Jill and I joined the other members of the press tour in the Main Lodge for cocktails at 8:00 and dinner at 9:00. It was a great way to end a fun-filled day!
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Click to read my next story, Onto the Kenai Peninsula.
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