When asked my favorite river to canoe in Alaska, my unhesitating response is the Noatak. The headwaters of the Noatak River gather water out of the western part of Gates of the Arctic National Park and then flow westward toward the Bering Sea. The Noatak is a long river, over 400 miles, from Gates to its mouth near the village of Kotzebue. Needless to say, that length is a bit much for a week or ten day trip, so most of the trips I’ve done have concentrated on the headwaters.
The upper Noatak is close to ideal canoe water. Swift but not difficult, provides great learning opportunities for new paddlers, and the scenery, wildlife, and occasional obstacles are sufficient to entertain seasoned canoeists. After a couple of days of straight-forward paddling, just before the first take-out point, a few small rapids challenge newly learned skills. It’s near perfect.
A couple of years back I paddled the upper river with an east-coast canoe guide who is one of the best whitewater canoeists paddling a boat. He described the Noatak after our trip as the finest river he’s ever paddled.
So, yeah, it’s good.
The Noatak also has two other major points in its favor: the entire river, including every single tributary creek and stream is protected by either National Park or National Preserve designation and it’s the largest mountain-rimmed basin in North America.
That second point, its mountain rims, make accessing the river a bit trickier for the bush pilots who carry us to and from. When the weather is poor, the passes fog in, making flight impossible, and delays on the way in and out, are not uncommon. In fact, on my recent trip, we had two, one going, one returning.
My co-guide, group, and I flew from Fairbanks to the village of Bettles which lies a short distance from the southern boundary of Gates of the Arctic. There isn’t much to Bettles, it lies on the shore of the Koyukuk River, and is surrounded by forest, the foothills of the Brooks Range just visible to the north. It is a convenient jumping off point, and home to Brooks Range Aviation, a storied flight service that has been carrying paddlers and adventurers in and out of Gates for decades.
When we arrived, clouds obscured the mountains to the north, and it wasn’t long before we knew we wouldn’t be going anywhere that day. We hung out in the historic Bettles Lodge, drank coffee and waited for the weather, until eventually we set up our tents for a night nearby. Disappointing, but not as bad as it sounds, as it provided us the opportunity for a fine dinner at the lodge and a chance to check out our gear before the flight to the river.
6am the following morning, I rose to broken skies, and knew we’d make it to the Noatak. Sure enough, by 8:30, we were on our way to the float ponds where we loaded 10 people and a mountain of gear into a DeHavilland Otter and a DeHavilland Beaver, two classic radial-engine bush planes last manufactured in the early 1960s.
Another few minutes of pre-flight checks and we were on our way, flying over the John River, then turning north up the Alatna, over Portage Pass and onto a lake in the upper valley. By 11am, we were settling into camp. We paddled around the lake that afternoon, and in the evening, heard and watched wolves howling from a nearby mountainside. It seemed as though the wolves were welcoming us to the valley (but more likely were just talking amongst themselves).
Usually, Arctic Wild runs this trip as a 10-day hike and float, but the paddling distance is not long between our put-in and the take-out at Macharak Lake. So, this trip was offered as a shorter option of 5 nights. With our delay in Bettles eating up a night, we opted for two solid days of paddling to reach our destination, which allowed one layover day mid-way, which we took near the mouth of the Igning River.
Knowing this was the last wilderness trip I’d be guiding this year, I put some extra effort into photography, and the weather played right into my eager hands. We had a steady stream of photogenic conditions from nearly clear skies and sunrises to rising fog, rain, storm clouds, and dappled light. Every day was different, and in photography as in life, variety is the spice.
Wildlife was present if not abundant, though I had no good opportunities to make images of the critters we encountered. A very close encounter with a Grizzly was a highlight, though I was too busy making sure she meant us no harm, that I had no chance to go for my camera. We were having lunch on a gravel bar on our first day of paddling when one of my clients pointed and just said (in a deep Aussie accent), “Hey everyone, look over there.” We turned to see a handsome and chubby grizzly emerge from the willows to head directly toward us.
My co-guide and I leapt to our feet, but I could tell from the bear’s body language that she meant us no harm, we just happened to be in her path. She diverted (slightly) and ambled past our group a mere 20 feet away. With one sideways glance, she walked past, crossed a shallow tributary, and headed on down the river.
Later that day we spotted a musk ox, a young bull, on the gravel bar. We paddled slowly by, watching as he watched us, his long curled horns looking like pigtails.
These were missed photo opportunities for me, for sure, but when guiding, whether that is photo workshops or wilderness trips, I put the experience and success of my clients above my own. And I’m pleased to say, that several of my clients got excellent images of both the bear and the musk ox. I call that a win!
Our trip wrapped up at Macharak Lake, which lies a short portage from the river. Macharak is really a big kettle pond, and lacks any major inflow or outflow streams. It is held in place by a glacial moraine which wraps around the western and southern edge of the lake in long sinuous curves. We camped atop the tundra-covered moraine and had views of lakes and mountains and rivers in every direction.
I woke early the morning of our scheduled pickup to find a spectacular morning. Clouds rolled by fast overhead and small sun islands oozed over the mountainsides where the light found its way through the clouds. Rain squalls came and went over the upper valley, while our camp remained dry. Through the morning, the fog descended from the clouds, and the hope of our departure grew more remote, and by late afternoon we were re-pitching tents, and settling in for a “bonus” night in the wilderness.
(Above: Time lapse of the Noatak Valley.)And it was just one night. By the next morning, the cloud-ceiling lifted and around noon, the deep rumbling drone of an arriving DeHavilland Otter broke the silence of the Noatak Valley. Two hours later we were back in Bettles, then onto Fairbanks.
Even after a fairly short trip, it takes me a day or two to get my bearings when I return from the backcountry. Even in relatively sedate Fairbanks, the cars, and roads, and sounds all seem more intimidating than they did before my departure. I always wonder whether my clients, less accustomed to the transition than I have a harder or easier time?
Want to paddle the upper Noatak River? Check out Arctic Wild‘s website, or contact me and I can tell you all about it.
I leave in another couple of days to lead a private photo workshop in the Brooks Range community of Wiseman. Hoping for some great autumn photography weather, and maybe some northern lights. Check back late next week for an update.
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