Clear Creek!

I wake to an alarm again. Last night I decided I've got to get an early start. Either to make my plan of meeting Carson possible, or to make some progress on a hellish hike out. The creek I'm camped on (which i'm still thinking is Bacon Creek) runs another mile down to the next larger creek. Resigned to hiking this one, and hoping to raft the next, I put on my cold wet socks from yesterday. I'm going to be trudging in the water at least this first mile anyway, no point to put on my one last pair of dry socks. My tent requires my hiking staff as it's central support and I leave it deployed after breaking camp to help keep my footing on the slick river stones. The third point of contact helps immensely. Somewhat to my surprise, the morning's wet mile goes pretty quickly. As my path merges with a larger creek, I get a bit optimistic. Without a look at my map I'm thinking this is Clear creek.

Again, the info I have on clear creek indicate the first mile or two are a bit shallow and then the water and rapids pick up. I walk the river about a half mile and then decide to inflate my boat and give it a go. There are places I can float, but i'm in and out of the boat, bottoming out often and having to walk it. I'm walking it a little more than half the time and the in and outs are frustrating. Eventually I come to a downright waterfall. 5 or 6 foot drop into a pool, but not before a weird shelf that shoves the river hard left and then back straight. I don't care the water level, this is a non runnable rapid and the canyon walls are tight here, making portage nearly impossible. If this was Clear creek, there would HAVE to be mention of this spot. I double check my map after deflating my boat. Damn. This is Bacon creek, of which I've got at least 4 more miles of it to hike. I'm about as deflated as my boat, but I've got definitive placement on my maps now.

OK. If this is almost enough water to run, then the real Clear creek must be. Just gotta get there. Well, from the top of the waterfall I'm able to pitch my pack, with raft secured to the top, as well as my paddle down to a spot of rock on the right of the pool below. I huck a big rock into the water within jumping distance. Gauging by the fact I didn't hear it impact anything solid, It should be deep enough for me to jump into. Geronimo! I hop into the water with my PFD and helmet on, landing as shallowly as possible. A broken leg would be a nightmare right now. Its an icy rush, but with no solid impact. Whew. I swim over to my pack and get geared back up. I face another smaller waterfall a couple miles down, but I'm able to downclimb that one. One large pool requires me to swim across with my pack on, but I intentionally inflated the dry bag containing my sleeping bag as much as I could to enhance buoyancy. It works and I awkwardly bob across the deep pool, assisted by the current.

As I approach the junction with Clear creek, an increasing number of blown down trees choke the creek I'm walking down. Forced onto land, right where I'm told there's angry land owners, I try to be discreet. wading through chest high ferns, I'd really like to be calling out loudly to warn bears, but I settle on a normal talking voice. Thankful the vegetation isn't as thick or strong as it was before, I fight through a small thicket of alder to emerge out onto a stony beach on the shore of the real Clear creek! and there's definitely enough water to paddle! The trip suddenly shifts again, from "just getting out of here" to "bring on the whitewater!"

I reinflate the boat as quickly as I can, hoping to escape the area before angering the locals. Just before shoving off, I look into the depths of the appropriately named creek. I can clearly see six or seven big salmon gliding on the bottom of the creek. They must be four feet long! Lazily swimming upstream, almost still on the river bed. Amazing! I'd love to linger and watch, but I'm behind schedule and on contentious land. I hop in the boat and get paddling.

The first couple mile do prove to be shallow, but don't require any walking of the boat, just the occasional dragging bottom. The water increases and becomes nearly continuous class two whitewater, with scattered rock gardens to navigate. But, I'm able to stay IN THE BOAT. The going is so much faster. Once again enjoying myself, the trip is sliding back into the "maybe it was worth it" category, but i'm not exactly sure yet. I'm just thankful. There are a few more slow, deep pools filled with seemingly huge salmon, gliding along beneath me. I'm able to get a couple shots underwater with my gopro. Thinking back, I regret not taking pictures or video to document my torment to get here. My words will have to do, I tell myself.

At least fifteen little families of waterfowl accompany me. One or two adults with their little army of ducklings. A few bald eagles fly directly overhead, peering into the water for easily snatched prey. It has turned into a wonderful day. After running roughly 20 miles of clear creek, it joined the swift moving and cloudy Talkeetna. I hug the left side of the river in anticipation of joining in with the Susitna, which is thunderingly fast with the added melt. Without warning a salmon flops onto the bank directly in front of me. I beach myself just below him and check him out. He's red, which I recall means he is in the expiring part of the spawning process. Debating if hes still edible and if I should take him with me, I get to laughing. Where the hell am I going to put a live four foot salmon? just let him flop around my legs and crotch for the next hour? I push him back in the water with my paddle on continue on to the Big Su.

The water is fast, but I find and hit my take out easy enough. Sore, soaked and beat, I stand triumphant on the bank and deflate my boat. The half mile walk back to my van feels a bit like a victory lap. Everyone who spots me looks on quizzically, unaware of all I've been through. Its the sort of victory like in Cool Runnings, when the defeated Jamaican bobsled team carries their crashed bobsled across the finish line with determination.

What an adventure. Ill advised, perhaps far too risky and dangerous, but quite the interesting experience. I've gotta assume that good fortune has smiled down on me once more.