Cantwell to Sheep Mountain Lodge (160 miles)
by Dmitry Surnin
Start of the "Awesome Valley"
It’s around 4:30am and I open my eyes to what appears to be hundreds of mosquitos bunched up at the tip of the tent. Buzzing, desperately trying to get out, “are they all full and just wanna dip out?” Charlie wakes up next to me and mentions this is the worst he’s ever felt. The mosquitoes aren’t biting I thought, but the only thing that stung were my feet - I could barely move them without feeling pain. It’s the morning of our fourth day in the Kosina River Valley and we have been covering some ground since this challenge took off roughly 75 miles ago. I painfully crawl out of the shelter to see what the weather is doing, and immediately feel vertigo. I want to vomit. I’m on my knees, and elbows... just waiting to pop. The sickness passes and I begin to look around, it is absolutely beautiful - the morning fog has rolled into the valley overnight and it seemed like we’ll finally have an overcast day. I personally don’t do very well in the heat and the last three days have been insanely hot and bluebird. Today was going to be our most vertical but also our most scenic day. As good as I knew today had the potential to be, my mental and physical state at that moment was depleted.
Charlie is packed up and brings up another point of his physical wellbeing, joking that he feels like he has COVID. We already had our low point the day prior at Fog Lakes when we ran out of water, but this was different. This time, we truly felt the repercussions of pushing our bodies. We slowly march towards the end of the valley to begin our climb into the alpine where we’ll experience a complete 180, the summit of our trip so to speak. Covering roughly 7,000 feet of vert and hiking 21-something miles through the most scenic and familiar-to-us terrain.
Nearing the end of Kosina River Valley
Fog Lakes was on Day 2 and pretty much unavoidable if you were to do this whole route. We knew it would suck and we even heard someone at the very beginning say: “you can thank John for Fog Lakes” (John being the one who proposed the route). At the end of the day, Fog Lakes is not that terrible. There were, however, a few factors that came into play - hot sun and minimal water sources. On Day 2 we finished paddling the Tsusena, which was enjoyable. Then, came 3 or 4 miles of minimal bog and brush to the Susitna River. That was not bad at all we thought. After filling up on water and crossing the Su, we climbed up a relatively lovely animal trail to the flat mix of bog/brush of Fog Lakes, which was several miles out from us. Our plan was to cross between the two Fog Lakes and make some way up to the tundra. I believe it was about 5 miles to Fog Creek and maybe a few more and we’re away from the bog. It took us over 4 hours to get to Fog Creek if I remember correctly. It’s pretty difficult for me to describe this type of terrain because while there were patches of brush that held you on your feet you would then still have to cross legit bog fields where you at times are knee deep, moving extremely slow. Sometimes the wet punchy soft moss would give in and you’d sink past the ankle but then the surface would vibrate back to you like some sort of sick twisted trampoline park. “Ah, Fog Lakes” I kept repeating in my head. It wasn’t a straight line either, 5 miles sounds good on paper but when you actually navigate your way around, you end up doing a lot more than 5 miles. Charlie mentioned something funny while we were bogging through the shit - “Imagine if you could make a hologram of yourself right now and display it on something flat like Chester Creek trail and just watch yourself...you probably wouldn’t believe what you’ll see, a drunk version of yourself trying to stay upright”. We ran out of water once we approached the little pass between the two lakes. It felt like 80 degrees and I swear I'd had the same swarm of bugs and one particular fly circling my head since we crossed the Su. The bugs were gaining some miles just staying with me. This was actually miserable, and I was becoming a bit delusional. I wanted to drink out of Fog Lake, but the nasty water made me reconsider. The last bit of water I chugged down was warm, like almost 5 minutes from being let off the gas. I felt pretty bad for Charlie because the poor guy had lost his 1L water bottle on the Tsusena and it was his only method of drinking potable water. Luckily, I brought an additional water filter pack that you can drink from. It was only a 0.6L soft bottle, but still Charlie had less water than me. At this point we are desperately hoping we would find water along our route. Charlie kept saying that Fog Creek was near and we’d be good but for some reason I was convinced that the creek was dry, and we’d have to consider other options. Another hour goes by and my mouth is completely dry. Charlie and I aren’t exchanging any dialogue. Suddenly, Charlie says: “I hear water!” and we picked up our pace. I was still skeptical, not sure why, but I had a sick thought in my head that what if someone had placed speakers down below to emit a water running sound to lure people in. Thankfully, and screaming “Thank fucking God” we arrived at Fog Creek and spent an hour eating and drinking water, at times almost falling asleep.
Honestly there are too many highlights to write about from this trip - hiking with a caribou herd, seeing incredible alpine terrain, paddling upper Caribou Creek and seeing the landslide, so many things. I still can't put it into words how much terrain we covered each day. It’s so simple: wake up, have some snacks, and just walk until it’s time to have a proper breakfast somewhere really cool, either in a pass or on a river. The one big thing that constantly blew my mind was how vast the terrain was. Forget sitting at your computer on CalTopo mapping out which valley you’re going to cross. When I approached a bench overlooking the Kosina River Valley, it was so overwhelmingly vast I just stood still for a few moments trying to figure out where I needed to end up. No photo did it justice either. I think this is by far the hardest thing I’ve done - mentally or physically. By day 3 I developed some sort of gnarly tendonitis on my left ankle and could barely walk at times. I remembered that those slick rocks on Jack River took my ankles for a ride and now I’m paying the price while inevitably being on my feet. We were trying to cover 30 miles a day and could not afford an extra day, we could if we rationed our food but were already getting through most of it. I brought about 3500 calories per day for 5 days. Downhills were the hardest for me, it had to do with a particular angle of the ankle that just destroyed them. Surprisingly I did well on the climbs and actually felt relatively good. But man, when it came time for the flat slog, I really had to get into my head and make myself walk those miles. That’s where emotions were running the highest. I would find myself coming up with motivations, some from my upbringing and some just simply visualizing the finish where Hannah, friends and family were waiting for me, telling me to push it. On one particular stretch to No Where Creek, the limping became too much and I could barely put any weight on my left foot. Charlie, being a good doctor that he is, had some pain meds for situations like these and I caved in. I kept saying to myself that I’m going to finish this thing. Our second to last day included paddling upper Caribou from Mazuma Creek but I had a feeling that we might not make it past the class III+ section of the canyon before nightfall. Charlie and I were actively paddling through surprisingly fun features up top, but it became apparent that we simply didn’t have enough time to go through the canyon in a safe manner since there is a waterfall portage within the canyon. We discussed our possibilities and decided to make camp and sleep in for a final insignificant 14-mile push. We haven’t seen bears all trip - well, at least I haven’t. And what do you know, as soon as we make camp, standing near the tent to pee I notice a furry Mama Bear with two cubs peeking their head out around her sides and staring right at me. Immediately I loudly but calmly start greeting the bear and telling Charlie, who is trying to sleep inside the tent to hand me bear spray. I take off the safety pin and continue projecting my voice towards the animals. They realize what is happening and run the other way. Caribou Creek Waterfall (portaged)
Paddling the lower canyon of Caribou Creek for the first time was exciting with the healthy flow of water it had. Charlie had a pretty good idea of where the portage spot was and it was actually pretty obvious once we came up on it. Walking on loose rocks for the last time was a good reminder of how fucked my feet were. All in all, this was an incredible experience and while we definitely pushed ourselves - we enjoyed every minute of it. Except Fog Lakes...
There are a few things I would do differently next time, like maybe consider bringing a sleeping bag. But, the one major oversight I had was in the shoes I decided to bring. Next time I’ll opt for trail shoes vs hiking boots. I’ve never had my feet blister and swell as bad as they did. I couldn’t really walk for a few days after.
Hi! I was hoping you could provide information on how to find out more about & register for the 2022 AK Wilderness Classic!
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