37 years, 100 trips, 14,500 miles, and 850 days (or so)

It's been most of my life and I may have missed some but these are the big lines (over a week or 55 miles), the important ones, and the little ones that matter.

By foot, ski, skate, paddle, and pedal.

With my wife, our kids, my friends, and on the multi-day/multisport races my rivals, and sometimes just myself.

From 1977, as a 16 year old solo hiking from Eielson Visitor Center to the Igloo over Anderson Pass, to a couple weeks ago, when Luc and I nordic skated from Selawik to Kotzebue.

From Kaktovik to the Kigluaiks, from Umnak to Yakutat.

Sure, they're not all connected (yet), but I have a few miles left in me to see the wonders of Western Alaska, float the Yukon, pedal and paddle from Cordova to Yakutat, cross from Cordova to Seward with a packraft, link Aniakchak with lake Clark. Plenty to do!

One thing to know is that many routes I did more than once, especially the Wilderness Classics. Another is that these are just quick sketches with the path tool in Google Earth. Don't use them for navigation, please!

You can also see my favorite places: Kenai's Harding Icefield, Hayes Range, Arrigetch Peaks and South-central's whitewater.

It's impossible to ever be satisfied with these "lines-on-the-map". While satisfying to draw the last trip in, like Bono says, "It's no secret that ambition bites the nails of success", and planning for the next link-up of old lines or fill-in of blanks spots (can you spell K-O-B-U-K?) is the grist of life: hope for what the future brings.

Thanks to Hig for asking for the lines on Google Earth for Erin's story in Alaska Dispatch -- otherwise they'd just hide on the Raven Map of Alaska that leans against a wall in my office....

Gradient (ft/mile): elevation vs. distance plots

The Local Anchorage Creeks:

The Mat-Su Regulars (Little Su, Upper Willow, Kings Magic Mile)

The Talkeetna Fly-in Creeks (Disappointment, E Fork Iron Ck, Damnation):

The mid-Alatna Valley Creeks:

The Arrigetch Creeks:

I have been using Spruceboy's USGS maps over Google Earth to estimate gradient, then R to make some contour plots of local steep runs and some creeks in the Arrigetch-Alatna Area. Too satisying.

I should have gone paddling, but no, I made these graphs instead.

They are pretty informative and suggest that the Arrigetch offers up the closest to California style granite creeks we have in Alaska. What makes the Arrigetch unique is the paucity of glaciers combined with steep glacial carved terrain, much of it above tree line and so wood free.

It looks like the two local boofy-creeks, Lower Ingram and Upper Willow, aren't as overall steep as they feel, while the granite boulder garden creeks, Little Su and Kings, are steep. This holds for Disappointment and E Fork Iron, too, as Disappointment is not as overall steep as East Fork Iron Creek, surprisingly, but is bigger volume and more pool drop. So pool drop, ledgy creeks hide their steepness on these gradient plots, while boulder garden creeks tend to be steepest.

All the kayakers already know this, of course, and this is just like a little homework assignment to see that clearly.

The Aiyagomahala Creek (aka Hot Springs Creek or South Arrigetch Creek) is super steep at top where it's full of slabs and slides and waterfalls. Just above its hot springs it's a boulder garden, like Magic Mile. Upper Awlinyak, I have not yet seen, but I expect that it is a gorge full of granite blocks, like the the Deceptive Pass branch of Awlinyak. Arrigetch Creek is least known to me. It's hidden in the bushes and glimpses I get of it are broken gneiss, rather than boulders.

All the little Alatna Valley creeks offer up a bunch of variety. None seem too hard for beginners, except the inner gorge of Nahtuk, which I have seen and expect to be Class III+ if not IV. Unakserak and Kutuk look like class II, maybe some wood, and Pingaluk is Class III (walked that a couple years ago). Awesome game trails in the Pingaluk. So a basecamp in the Alatna valley offers everything from Class I on the Alatna to Class VI in the Arrigetch, all in a ten mile radius.

East Fork of Iron Creek: 24 Hours to Talkeetna

The bike buzz didn't last as long as I'd hoped.

The siren call of whitewater quickly washed away the rubber residue and almost immediately after getting home, I was paddling that Super Scout (a 2011 Alpacka Scout w/six extra inches and a super cool, center opening, spectra-reinforced mylar spray deck) places it wasn't designed to go.

Doom wanted whitewater after the Magical Mystery Tour and our local goodness delivered. Then Ganey came to town and had to hit the highlights including a near 10 foot gage run on Six Mile's lower two canyons with Timmy J, Luc Mehl, Todd Tumalo.

Wow! What a wild ride Six Mile at 1400 cfs in a packraft is. But the 2011 Llama is almost like cheating. The stern is like a spring that propels you out of holes and the bow punches waves. The bottom is a new and lighter fabric so I have beefed it up with more fabric, especially in the foot and seat areas.

The deck on mine was a special order with a heavier fabric and a very short center opening and mondo velcro. It's not for everyone, and requires a bit of worming to get into and out of on shore/in eddies. When flipped and under water I sometimes use the rip cord to get out, since I am fairly securely installed in that boat.

But the new design, which took the best of the proto-type Wichcraft and incorporated those features (pointy bow, long stern) into the basic line-up, feels almost like cheating. Good bye to the "bandersnatch", hello to catching eddies easily and ferrying fast. Good bye to most side to side bow sway. Hello to straighter, cleaner lines. And boofing is a blast!

Because I am a Yak-sized guy paddling a Llama with seat forward, lots of air behind me, thigh straps, and a super deck, my boat stays dry and buoyant in bigger and squirrelier water. It's not a beginner's boat, especially with a load inside.

But when Joe McLaughlin called about the East Fork of Iron Creek in the Talkeetnas I jumped at the chance, especially with the all-star team of Joe, Thai Verzone, and Tim Johnson.

For video reasons I wanted Tim and Thai in packrafts, but Timmy came equipped with his hardshell, ostensibly fot the flat water paddle out the Talkeetna. Joe's a hardsheller, and so is Thai, but Thai and I have been making annual stabs at establishing the boundaries of packrafting since 2008 when we did Bird, then 2009 when we did Montana and the Happy with side trips.

Thai and I would find that the East Fork of Iron would again raise the bar.

As for mixing hardshells and packrafts I have followed Tim in his hardshell down New Zealand's Upper Hokitika and Six Mile when it's an iced-up, gnarly little creek. I'd welcome his skills, strength, safety, and good sense if he came along in nothing more than a dry suit and kick board.

Joe, too, is a solid boater, who took me down Six Mile many years ago in a mixed group of kayaks, both hardshell and inflatable, as well as canoes paddled by experts who could roll them, and me in my old red Yak.

Eyeing my long, svelte 2011 Llama, he said, "It looks like packrafts have evolved to the point where they don't need to be dumped every ten minutes and can run side by side with kayaks."

The steep Blueberry Canyon on Iron Creek's East Fork would prove that statement true.

Many apologies for the apparent narcissism of the video below. Because we boat scouted nearly everything and were racing darkness, there was no opportunity to use the "big camera". Moreover, the ole' dental cam was missing its face mask extension and I had to go with a bow mount for the Go-Pro. The bow mount doesn't work so well filming forward, but does work well facing back....hence the video.

Timmy J, Thai and I drove up to Talkeetna after feasting on Peggy's moose and razor clam tacos with another stop in Wasilla at Sr. Taco: the idea was to feast, fly, and paddle till midnight.

The flight in from Talkeetna to the miner's airstrip took 25 minutes and $600 for the four of us in Talkeetna Air Taxi's Beaver with two hardshells shoved in the tail.

At first the stream was so scrapy and braided I wondered whether there'd be enough water to cover the rocks we'd seen from the air in the crux Blueberry Canyon. When the creek entered a mini-canyon but felt pretty much just like the South Fork of Eagle River, I wondered why I had shelled out $150 for a fly-in version of Hiland valley.

Then, an hour and a half after putting in, the canyon deepened, the creek steepened and the wild ride began.

I'd been expecting a bedrock canyon, like Bird or lower Ship, but instead got an hour and 15 minutes of twisty turny boulder drops -- not smooth and rounded like Little Su or Magic Mile, but sharp-edged and sievy like the last three drops on Honolulu or Montana below the Big Sky drop.

Almost immediately into the main event of the run, Thai was wondering about the "spray deck leaking" on the stubby Llama I had loaned him.

In classic Thai style he was paddling this modern Alaskan steep creek in a dry suit loaned to him from someone in Gustavus (when he and Gordy had headed back over the Fairweather Range to Yakutat after walking and packrafting the beach to Gustavus), with a paddle loaned him by Tim, and in a loaner Llama of mine.

He had only had time to outfit the unfamiliar boat at the miners' airstrip using the camping gear he'd brought. We'd forgot to bring a backrest for a boat with the seat moved forward.

So when the water got stiff and steep and he found himself swamped, the creeking was not exactly enjoyable for him.

None of us could afford to tip over in the shallow, maybe 175 cfs flow.

I was glad for elbow pads, face mask, and a stable boat. And for Timmy's boat scouting skills. Several times he'd eddy hop right to the edge of a blind drop while we clung to the canyon walls waiting. He'd crane his neck, then pivot and drop in, with one hand over his head signaling us to follow.

At one point in the crux rapid slalom, among giant boulders that strain water and wood out of the flow, Joe got hung up in a corner.

Thai came by him from behind, saw the predicament then screamed and hooted like a banshee.

Downstream there was no mistaking that wild alarm sound as an exhilarating hoot and Tim was paddling hard upstream into an eddy with his spray deck pealed back, exiting the kayak in one smooth motion to pull Joe and his boat to better waters.

Another sieve drop from hell where a landslide filled the creek had one thin line that Joe made smooth and sweet to redeem himself but the rest of us walked.

Besides that and a log below the canyon and a couple fresh wood falls on the Main Fork of Iron Creek we ran everything.

Pulling into our confluence camp at midnight, we were giddy and glad, even after discovering that it wasn't the spray deck on Thai's boat that leaked, but rather a six-inch butt split. In fact whatever cut the boat had also sliced his dry bag inside the boat, too!

Despite the damage and the scare, the East Fork had delivered with a tight, technical, twisty-turny and very steep canyon that kept me right on the edge of my abilities, but never freaked me out, never had me feeling out of control.

"A little more water, like maybe another hundred cfs, would actually make it easier. Pad everything out and make the lines cleaner," Timmy said.

"Yea, I'd love to come back and run this again with more water," responded Joe.

As for me, the low water was perfect for a packraft. And I'd like to get back to Disappointment and drop a few ledges that we portaged last year, before I return to Iron Creek.

The two Talkeetna tribs are certainly related, like big brother and little sister.

Neither is granite: both are sharp. Neither is easy: both are modern, fly-in, AK creeking.

E Fork Iron is like a sassy, slappy little sister to Disappointment as big, brooding brother, mellow in the boogey water but bossy in the drops.

Disappointment is very committing, set deep in a steep-walled, alder-encrusted canyon. E Fork Iron is a shallow canyon with tundra and people at a cabin and airstrip above. Portaging and retreat seem an option.

Disappointment has a handfull of Class IV/IV+ punctuating hours of boogy water; E Fork Iron has an hour and a quarter of non-stop III+/IV/IV+ and a V- slalom sieve. The filler is almost all III+ in Blueberry Canyon.

The confluence camp is nice and the 14 mile 2.5 hour paddle to the Talkeetna's tan waters down the milky blue Iron Creek is quick, fun and smooth. Great wave trains in fast flow make for cushy paddling.

In Timmy J's guidebook he quotes those from the first descent as calling the run "an absolute classic".

If Embick had run it and put it in his book, Fast and Cold, he'd have to give it five stars.

E Fork/Iron/Takeetna has the wilderness qualities of the Happy and scenery as good as the Charley, with craggy granite upstream and forested valleys down.

Awesome whitewater.

And certainly at least three type of river in contrasting segments: the clear water unique steepness of E Fork; the milky blue wave trains of Iron Creek; and the tan big water of the Talkeetna.

Hopefully this video can tell some of our story.

Magic Mile

In the 1980s when I was a climber I hung around Andrew Embick's house in Valdez where hard men told stories about the first descents and epic kayak runs of the day: Canyon Creek, Kings Magic Mile, and Caribou Creek's Falls, among others.

Then, I was a wilderness racer and mountain traveler whose biggest whitewater experiences were limited to the likes of Class II and III on the Chitistone, Nenana, and John Rivers in an open Sherpa Raft. I never thought that I'd have the skills to paddle a kayak, much less a packraft, down the test-pieces of that golden-age era.

My, have the times changed.

This weekend several groups ran Six Mile's three canyons, Echo Bend, and Canyon Creek in packrafts -- albeit at low water -- and had a good time on those classics.

Canyon Creek is the surprise for me. When Six Mile is below 400 cfs on the USGS gauge Canyon Creek is like the new Ship Creek: lots of improbable drops (dozens), lots of fun. There is a waterfall portage, a waterfall that Embick wrote as three-tiered and "80 feet". But don't look for an 80 foot falls to portage - - it's more like 30 feet in three drops. Best to go down Canyon with someone who knows the drops and the portage as Canyon Creek is a bit more serious -- especially with its sharp rocks and mining debris -- than Six Mile. And at higher water -- when Six Mile is over 9 feet, Canyon gets back to its gnarly 1980s reputation for we butt-boaters.

Here's Timmy J running the Third and Fourth "Box Cars", a train of a half-dozen closely spaced ledge drop-rapids below Canyon Creek's only published rapid name, "Saddle Slide" ......

But the really big news is Kings Magic Mile.


Maybe it's another Embick exaggeration -- he called it 400 feet/mile -- but no matter. It is DARN STEEP and sustained! Imagine all the steepest drops in Little Su stacked back to back with Little Su's filler cut out. That's still not as steep as Magic Mile. Or maybe think of a microcosmic version of the West Coast New Zealand runs like Arahura and Hokitika. It's a steep boulder run and -- while no place for novices -- there are likely a dozen people in Anchorage with the skills to run it in packrafts at the 150-200 cfs we ran it yesterday. Make no mistake: it's the most serious, most demanding and difficult creek that we have packrafted in Alaska.

Thankfully we had Tim Johnson along to advise us with his experience and calm, reassuring, safety-minded nature.

Last year Brad Meiklejohn, Luc Mehl, I and others ran lower Kings and talked about the Mile. This past June a crack-team tried it at high water -- no, we looked at it -- at high water with Paul Schauer, Thai Verzone, and Nathan Shoutis.

But this Fall, Thai was gone, Paul was busy and Nathan, well, not sure where that nomad is currently wandering, so Luc and I convinced Tim and Brad that it was time. That the endless Indian Summer was as good a time as any to hit Magic Mile at low water. Except the Indian Summer ended this weekend and we hit the Mile in snow.

Surpassing New Zealand's West Coast, Disappointment Creek, and Maryland's Upper Yough, this was the highlight of my packrafting experiences so far, as it is a legendary run in Alaska. I missed a brace in the last rapid and got chundered, but everything else was a most satisfying challenge that I will be buzzed about all week, maybe all winter.



Luc even pulled off a combat roll in the upper third and re-ran the "Underground Railroad" in the lower third, yielding a run of every rapid. Of course, as you'll see in the video Timmy J is a master of water strokes, no matter the craft, and ran the Mile with a load in his boat and a long paddle duct taped together. And in flip-flops (I jokes about that).

We drove into the first mud-hole, started hiking at 10 AM, reached the put-in three hours later and were on the water by 1:30. It took until after 4 PM to pass the mile. We met Jule Harle at her warming fire below the Mile and she climbed into a loaner Llama (!) to run Lower Kings with us to below "Gotta Giver 'Er". We were out by 6 PM and back to the truck by 7 PM.

The sun finally came out and hundreds of Sandhill Cranes filled the autumn sky above the Matanuska. It had been a wonderful day.



And the version on Vimeo if YouTube has no music:

Magic Mile Packrafting, Kings River, Alaska from Roman Dial on Vimeo.

Montana Creek @ 450 cfs

Last year Paul Schauer, Thai Verzone, and I ran Montana Creek near Talkeetna at 350 cfs on the NOAA Guage. It was super fun but a bit bumpy:



Yesterday Gordy Vernon and I drove up to Talkeetna after eating lunch at Senior Taco in Wasilla (super good, authentic Mex) just to do the lower canyon on Montana Cr. The NOAA Guage was reading about 465 cfs at UTC midnight (=4 PM AK time) and the USGS read 451 cfs; both gave about 5.4 feet. This was a juicier, cushier flow but not pushy. I'd say it was pretty close to ideal.

Gordy drops "Big Sky Country":



The crux for me, besides making the far left side of "Big Sky Country" is the mini boulder garden about three drops later, below both "Big Sky" and "Chockstone" and signaled by a big central boulder that you go left around then hard right then left again. There was a wee bit of wood, but nothing to get hung up about.

Montana's lower canyon a bit like a backwards Ship Creek lower canyon in that the hardest drop is the "Big Sky" falls right off the bat. There were a total of five drops in the short run and for me it's worth the drive. If we'd got an earlier start we would've walked up the extra mile or so for the upper canyon that has another five or so good drops. Unlike Ship Creek a swim here might have consequences with all the big boulders (foot entrapment, stuffed under an undercut). The run I like to do is shorter than Ship but longer than the lower canyon on Bird Creek -- harder to flip than Bird but more satisfying in a way and doesn't need the flip, I guess.

"Chockstone" often has wood but this time it was in a safe place:



Anyway, this info might be useful to some....Mark Oathout ran the creek in his IK, too, at a juicy flow last month.

Low Water Boating

One of my goals was to run bigger water this year. This sort of amounts to doing the popular kayak runs at "normal" flows. So I ran Six Mile's three canyons (minute 2 onwards) just under 10 feet. We looked at a juicy Magic Mile and walked 3/4 of it. I did the Campground Rapids loop when it was running high, too.

Part of this is probably a reaction to kayak sneering, and part of it is wanting to push my limits. But what I have discovered is that low water is where packrafts really excel and where kayaks are overkill and canoes and IKs unwieldy. Nothing puts a grin on my face as long and strong as low water Ship (back when it was legal and below 5 feet), Bird (when Ship's running below 5 feet), Montana (5.5 feet or lower), Honolulu (white rock in 4 inches water, gray rock dry), and Little Su below 3.4 feet. Same goes for Six Mile below 9 ft.

By low water I mean steep creeks that are substantially below their normal flows and the style is unloaded, sport boating for whitewater as substance abuse -- hormone dosing "naturally".

People often ask me "Why not just get a hardshell?" And after yesterday's double "flip" on Little Su, I know why: It's because I am too old and testosterone-dry to run "the brown" and "the gnar-gnar". I am not a "bad-ass". I am a packrafter and this is my favorite style of packrafting:



Yea, the Little Su is super fun right now. So fun I ran it three times in the last week. Once with Erik Tomsen, who boated a bunch with me in NZ. Then again yesterday with Luc Mehl in the sunshine and crowds. What a beautiful day! And we ran into other packrafters, some with mountain bikes and others with open boats(!).

The best place to put in when it's this low (3.3 feet) is at 11 Mile Fishhook Road. Leave a bike at the Fishhook Bridge (about 8.5 mile), then drive up and park at the Government Peak Picnic Area. Walk up the road 50 yards and put in. Upstream of 11 Mile is too bony and flat for my tastes at these super low flows. Brad M. would likely give different advice. He likes longer runs and somewhat higher flows (I think his adrenaline habit is a bit chunkier than mine, these days). I prefer to pick out the steep sections of creeks and run them multiple times -- what kayakers call "running laps" but what I called "flipping" in an earlier post.

Luc Mehl and I flipped Little Su twice yesterday and it was great.

Not much of a warm-up but super fun when you put in at 11 Mile. Anywhere upstream of the Fishhook Bridge a swim can be bruising and whatever you do, if you fall out of your boat, don't try to stand up as the rounded granite boulders could grab your foot like a lock.

There are about eight or ten wild drops and lots of boulder gardens between 11 Mile and the Bridge. Even after running it three times in a week I'd be hard pressed to list or describe them in series. It's never dull, always exciting and a bit like a miniature golf version of New Zealand's boulder garden runs like the Hokitika and Arahura, but instead of a thousand cfs past boulders that are big as a bus, it's a couple hundred cfs past boulders maybe as big as a VW bug.

As you drive up the road you can see the creek here and there. Early on (upstream of the bridge at the third time the river comes in view, starting with the bridge view) there is currently a log under water, jammed between the river left bank and a midstream boulder. Also visible from the road at about nine point something (maybe the fourth view?) is a long stretch alongside the road. You'll see a big triangular boulder midstream and it's undercut. We met a couple other butt-boaters and they got a boat stuck under it. I like to run far right of it as trying to go left seems to bring you brushing by the undercut. Upstream and still in view (there's a dirt pull-out) is a flat-topped rock with an undercut also. Again, I go way right of this. Worth looking at these two rocky drops as you drive up to the put-in by getting out and scouting from the road.

Between 10 Mile and these roadside views are several steep rocky drops that can be boat scouted, but might better be bank scouted the first time through. "Death Ferry" is pretty radical as are two other super-steep drops, one maybe 5-10 minutes above and another 5-10 minutes below.

In general, follow the main flows and biggest tongues everywhere. If you don't/can't then you run the risk of running up on a boulder and falling out of your boat. Staying in the best water demands a lot of maneuvering and quick turning and the "snicker-snack" technique, where you are pivoting and alternating back-stabbing back-paddles with forward power stroking to slalom through the rocks.

Anyway this is a classic packrafting creek, worth multiple runs in a day.

By the way, best to use the USGS gauge rather than the NOAA one. USGS seems to have a more accurate stage to discharge relationship.

Kings Magic Mile: Learning to Walk

The Kings River “Magic Mile” is one of Alaska’s mythical whitewater runs. For about half a mile it drops at the rate of 400 feet per mile through a maze of granite boulders, tight constrictions, and tall ledges, a steep creek by any definition. The second half of the Magic Mile drops over 200 feet per mile with two gnarly drops. The Mile has been described as "a Little Su on steroids".

First run by Embick and crew in the mid-1980s at a level (175-200 cfs) shown in Tim Johnson’s Alaska Whitewater (page 120, “Pick your faith”), Embick’s descent was pretty far ahead of its time. Fed by glaciers, the Kings’ flow peaks when the snow melt overlaps with the glacier thaw in June. Recently Tim Johnson, Josh Smith and John Cox ran it at super high water. Last fall Brad M., JT, Tony Pirelli, Luc Mehl, Mark Outhout and I packrafted the so-called “Lower Kings” (including “Gotta Give ‘Er Gorge") at a level I wished we had this past week when Nate Shoutis, Thai Verzone, Paul Schauer and I hiked up to the East Fork of the Kings to packraft the Magic Mile.


Brad Meiklejohn has been pushing the Magic Mile for a while, so when Nate Shoutis was in town his suggestion of the Kings fit in with my envy of Brad in the Brooks Range running Alatna River tribs. So I contacted the usual suspects needed as back-up for the steep stuff -- Thai Verzone and Paul Schauer -- and off we drove in my son’s ’87 Four-Runner up the Permanente Road, parking where the ATV network spiders around mudholes and the two branches of the road split. This offers an ideal loop trip taking out at the “Gotta Give ‘Er” gorge.

We walked to the put-in in about two and a half hours, inflated and launched into water that certainly didn’t look as low as it seemed at the Glenn Hwy Bridge where no rocks projected in the channels.

“There’s water in the bushes.”

“Yea, and it sure seems pushy. I’ve never packrafted in water with this much flow,” said Paul, whose packrafting experiences so far have been low water runs of Montana, Bird, and Disappointment Creeks.

This was opaque, milky Kings River, and by the time we got to the first rapid, “Bubblegum”, at the top of the 400’/mile section, we all felt the push. The push to sneak, portage, and walk. Which we did for the next few hours in open woods and alders, rarely on boulders alongside as the water lapped at the alders and submerged the shoreline rocks’ moss and lichen.

“What do you think?”

“I want to run it, but the consequences look bad.”

"If you look good going down it, I'll go for it."

“I don’t mind a bruised ego over a bruised body.”

“My ego won’t be bruised. It’s cool just to be in here and see this.”

There were only little sections that looked runnable and they were stacked between sections that didn’t look swimmable.

“Let’s deflate and walk.”

Every now and then we’d hear big water and we’d poke our heads out of the brush to see what the river was doing.

“Wow. The flat water looks like Little Su. And the drops just look too big for us.”

We did a couple ferries between the big drops. We ferried and snuck between “Bubblegum” and “Pick Your Faith”, then again upstream of the bend leading into “Underground Railroad”. There were a couple other huge drops that have no names, too.

The walking was pretty good in open woods of mossy boulders or game trails, but it felt good to run the last bit below “Chunder” to the miles and miles of boogy water leading to the first, opening ledge drop of the lower Kings.

There was a log across the stream below the big tongue in a canyon that pours river left past a wide dry ledge, and plenty of juice in all the folding ledges below. We pulled out just upstream of the Gotta Give Er Gorge and walked the mile back to the truck from there.

The Kings has three sections: the super stout granite Mile, which is like a king Susitna; the middle miles of splashy Class II-III that would be every intermediate kayaker's dream roadside run, like a scenic Willow; and the final sharp schist canyons, like an easier version of Six Mile's third canyon. It's a classic run overall, worth all the hiking.

And it’d been a good day, if not a great one. A day to remind us that we can’t yet run everything in a packraft.

We’ll go back in September at 200 cfs when we can run the Magic Mile. But this June trip was a good scout.

After all, as everyone knows, you gotta walk before you can run, and that's especially true for packrafts on the Magic Mile.

Paul Schauer: Butt-boating hero

Like so many runs I thought maybe a bit too stiff for me and my packraft, Disappointment Ck was Bradford’s idea. That would be Bradford Washburn’s namesake, Brad Meiklejohn.

Canyon, Little Su at 800 cfs, Honolulu at spring run-off, Happy under 800 pounds for four, and Wolverine at peak flow had all been his ideas – ideas that left me swimming, all too often, with him chasing my boat.

Plus, Disappointment is one of those "Mountain Tooth Empire" runs (think Mooses and Bear Tooth), test-pieces with only sketchy info in Timmy J’s guidebook based on sand-bagger beta from Brad Gessner and Rod Hancock.

It’s no wonder I was a bit apprehensive.

We’d talked about walking in from the Railroad, which seemed great in concept and groovy in practice for girlfriend/wifey runs, like Clear Creek, but not so good for a IV+ 10 mile creek with several hours at 200 ft/mile that Tim Johnson had not run and whose description was based on a five year old first descent.

I’d run Honolulu with overnight gear and it was not-so-good.

I need an empty boat for Class IV….So, fly-in?

Why not. I’ve paid off my house, her car, our truck; got one kid through college and another ¾ of the way through. There’s some money invested and retirement. Besides, Brad and Tim got me hooked on fly-in my packraft trips with three rivers in the last nine months –- I could splurge on $117 for what looked like a good substitute for the 2010 Wilderness Classic (but really there is no substitute for that).

We just needed to fill the Alaska Bush Floatplane Service plane with somebody who could fish us out: a class V kayaker who also packrafts. Thai was busy with his sailboat in Homer; Tim didn’t want to fly without more water and his hardshell; fortunately, Paul Schauer had been trying to get into Disappointment for weeks.

I offered him my loaner Llama, the one with thigh straps and a seat sewn forward six inches. He accepted and picked me up at 7:30 AM.

By eight AM I was shopping at Fred Meyers in Eagle River for breakfast (maple bar and glazed donut), brunch (ham and cheese), lunch and dinner (three Cadbury bars and a small bag of barbeque chips) and Paul was loading gear into Brad’s Rav.

We reached Fish Lake in Talkeetna by 10 AM and discussed lake options with the pilot.

“Oh yea, I know that lake,” said Elbert, referring to the one in Tim Johnson’s book, “it’s got too many rocks. But we’ll have a look.”

I’ve been around long enough to know that when a middle-aged pilot says that "we'll have a look", we’re going to get a fly-by of where we want to land and end up somewhere we hope we have a map for.

He flew us up the Talkeetna River and soon we were flying over Disappointment’s non-stop whitewater, set deep in a remote, steep-walled canyon.

“How many groups you fly-in to Disappointment?”

“Two others. Both to Frenchy Lake, up the main fork of the creek.”

He jabbed a finger at a long lake on the map. Now I knew why it took the first descent party five hours to bushwhack to the put-in.

“The other lake up there is eight miles from the river.”

“What’s that one called?” I asked.

“No name lake.”

As we flew toward Frenchy, the voice of conservative reason came across my headphones. “No, let’s go to the other one. That looks bad.”

Cottonwoods stretched across a little stream surrounded by alders and deciduous forest. “It looks like great hiking back there. That down there looks bad.”

Elbert circled back, headed up over the tundra to No Name and put down the bird.

He pulled up to the shore, tossed us our stuff, and left, an unconcerned taxi driver.

“What time is it?”

“Eleven,” said Paul as he strapped his boat and dry bag onto his PFD and grabbed his paddle and helmet in his hands. He wore wet suit booties and a dry-suit. We’d all come equipped for a mile walk not an eight mile hike.

“We’ll be there in three hours,” said Brad.

I had my doubts. But if we hadn’t stopped to suit up when the all-day rain arrived, we may well have made it in two and a half. The hiking was great. Open, smooth, dry and flat tundra. We had to step through a couple patches of willow, a few short patches of alders and cross a creek, but the going was great and we even found an animal trail that led us to the river bar.

We blew up and loaded our boats with our meager gear. Good thing we were light because the it was scrapey. In the first hour it seemed we were doing L-sits with paddle and hand in water to get over boulder bars every 15 minutes. But soon enough we were careening down a shallow granite gorge with super fun drops and bedrock rapids. A little more water would be fine here. A lot more would be scary.

Before two hours were up we’d paddled upper Ship Creek-like shallows, the little Honolulu-style granite gorge, and mini-Little Su like steep boulder drops. And Paul had a hole in his bottom. We stopped in the rain and he patched it with duct tape.

The river dropped steeper but its low volume made the rapids not just doable but fun. But by 5 PM we came to the first waterfall, a 15 foot long, steep slide with a nice pool that looked doable but possibly a butt-boat ripper, something we didn’t want to do with thirty miles of paddling still to go. So we portaged, two of us river right, one river left.

“Look how steep it drops.”

After the waterfall several other drops were stacked back to back, but fun and doable. We paddled onward with lots of drops in the 2-4 foot range, some culminating little boulder gardens, others over bedrock.

Half an hour later we came to a six foot ledge with a circulating, undercut wall that grabbed Paul. Below that under a high overhang Brad patched his boat's bottom in the rain. Fifty yards downstream was a five foot drop that looked too nasty with a little pocket hole in its back to run so far from home. We all portaged on its left.

Generally, there were steep but open small-boulder gardens that culminated in either a corner drop through bigger boulders or a ledge drop where the entire creek folded into a narrow, violent plunge. There were plenty of eddies to boat scout down all of this and following the steep plunge-drops we enjoyed often 30 foot tall twisting gorges with moving but smooth water.

Of all the creeks I have run in Alaska and elsewhere, Disappointment satisfied most with its diversity. It offered up Ship Creek ledges, Little Su boulder piles, Montana Creek slip mazes, Honolulu granite bedrock. Many steep sections reminded me of Six Mile’s “Jaws”, with chaotic power shoved through sharp rocks. Blessedly it was low volume and technical, not high volume and bossy. It took skill and technique but not balls and bluster.

Well mostly.

The two named drops, “Sprained Ankle” and “Three Blind Mice”, both rated IV+, and both double drops with steep waterfalls into deep pools on their second drop, were juicy. We portaged the “Sprained Ankle” on the left, climbing up one gully past devils club, traversing a heath meadow, and dropping a second gully of d’club back to the creek.

Below the lower plunge pool of “Sprained Ankle” and on to “Three Blind Mice” was the best reach of the creek. I kept thinking, “Too bad there’s all that scrapey stuff to get here, but I don’t really want any more water than this.” We wondered if it was coming up from the all day rain.

This stretch was packed with slalom action and plenty of fresh, New Zealand-style slip rapids of broken, sharp-edged granite where we boulder hopped down, boat scouting to the final bedrock drops at the bottom of the dozens of drops. At one drop I got bandersnatched in a basal hole and did my first Class IV combat role between drops. For the next 30 minutes I was the studly hero. But at “Brad’s Log” I handed that title over to him.

This was a blind corner between two of the biggest boulders in the creek. We did a bank scout from both sides, but could only get so far. Brad decided to give it a go, even though the creek disappeared around a corner between the rocks. I filmed him (2:32-2:46) as he too disappeared with his left hand pressing against the big rock.

We couldn't see, but Brad was swept into and beneath a log jammed between the boulders.

“Brad says don’t go!”

I was working my way back to get my boat.

“He’s holding up his hands crossed.”

Brad had lost his paddle swimming under the log but found it.

Now I could see him holding up his paddle, running his clenched hand along it like a more familiar shaft, using the signal Paul had shown us at the put-in for “wood”. A bit like stroking a woody, in a vulgar way, but it gets the message across clearly.

Paul and I portaged on the left, scrambling down to a visibly shaken Brad who was clambering over boulders in the rain. I hopped in my boat and quickly got upturned on a corner, too freaked to roll between choked drops, I busted free of my skirt and banged my head.

I stood on a rock with my boat and paddle, throwing one and then the other toward Paul, then swam aggressively into the water, missed my eddy and asked Paul , “Give me the paddle!”

He pulled me onto a rock and said, "Oh man, look at your knuckles." My whole hand was dripping wet blood, but painless.

"That's going to hurt tomorrow."

Downstream more recent slides choked the creek into jagged falls that we portaged.

By 9 PM, almost seven hours into the paddle and ten hours since flying-in we’d reached the crux, “Three Blind Mice”. The first drop is a separate rapid, a six foot chunder followed by a curve and then the 15 foot falls.

We scouted and I charged off. It looked like a simple drop into a big pool.

“I’m gonna drive right and aim for the eddy at the base,” volunteered Paul as I slipped my knees into my straps and cinched down the velcro deck.

I heard him but wasn’t listening. It looked straight forward: ride the smooth tongue into the biggest pool on the creek. If I swam, so what. It looked totally clean.

I had forgotten what Tim Johnson had written in his book about the first decent party's experience: “the largest recirculating hydraulic that they had ever seen for a rapid of its size.” It extracted three of the four kayakers on that trip and it not only extracted me but it sent me deep into the darkness, where I thought I was going to run out of air. It sent me deep and flushed me out but kept my boat.

This was the first time ever I’d been sucked downward so deep. Usually I have hold of my boat, but this time as I was being sucked back toward the maw, I recalled "Breach Baby" on Ingram and the cave at the back and feared somehow my boat was dragging me somewhere I didn’t want to go, or would keep me where I didn’t want to be. So I let it go and was slammed deep by the plunging tongue.

It was the first time I thought, “I have to swim to the bottom or off to the side to get out.” And this thinking on just half a breath.

But I got flushed out and swam to the talus spilling into the plunge pool, signaling a concerned Paul that I was OK, took a breather to find some oxygen and shoot some vid, then worked my way back to the far side to see how to get my boat, bouncing in the hole.

Brad, perched on the lip, asked with his hands if there was a route down on my side of the bowl. It looked like there was but it would be sketchy. I nodded, “yes”.

As I waded the outlet of the pool, something yellow, driving hard across the smooth tongue caught my eye.

It was Paul dropping the falls!

He landed just behind my boat, knocking it free and coasted into the eddy, nailing the 15 foot drop cleanly! Not only was he a studly boater, but he was a hero, too.

I sure didn’t want to have to swim after my boat into that plunge pool of doom.

His move and save was the neatest thing I’d ever seen in a packraft, right up there with Tim Johnson’s first Eskimo roll and Roman’s run on the Grand Canyon from Hermit to Havasu with a mere two swims.

Yea, Paul’s drop and save was great, typifying his quiet skill and helpfulness.

Paul had been a great companion on the creek. He had level headed judgment, beautiful paddling style, and never hogged the lead. He found eddies and evaluated holes and drops and now he was rescuing my boat, towing it in behind him with his tether.

“Wow! That was awesome! Thanks sooo much, Paul, thank you man!” (John Schauer, if you are reading this, good job on a fine son.)

Then another plop of yellow came dropping off. This one like mine, folded up and flipped, but at least landed in the eddy and not the hole. Brad swam to shore with his paddle but his boat was stuck like mine had been.

This time Paul tied into my throw rope and my rope into his as I belayed him out to the hole to fetch Brad’s boat. Brad’s dry bag of gear (velcroed inside his bow as a foot platform) came free, drifted out of the hole but was recirculated back in.

Paul paddled as close as he dared and poked and prodded the upside down boat with his paddle, eventually pushing it free and paddling after it, throwing it on his bow as I pulled him in.

Paul Schauer, double hero.

“Wow, I’m getting to practice all of my swiftwater rescue skills!” he smiled.

“Yea, that’s why we brought you along, Paul! To pull us and our yard sales out of the creek!”

From here it was 45 minutes of Class II and III to the Talkeetna, running highish in rain and melt at 6000 cfs. We paddled that from 10:15 PM to 2 AM, stroking hard to keep warm in the rain and dark of solstice.

“Well Brad, that gave you what Honolulu didn’t,” referring to the all-day dose of adrenaline that we’d got. I had scraped what looked like a couple square inches of skin form my knuckles but hadn’t felt a thing and wouldn’t until a day later.

“Yea, but I can’t really think of anyone I can recommend it to.”

I can.



Synopsis:

June 19, 2010
Brad Meiklejohn, Paul Schauer
Alaska Bush Floatplane Service (907) 733-1693, Fish Lake 4 miles from Talkeetna $350 for 750 pounds (5 seats?)

Clear creek with sharp rock from active slides (two cut boats) and polished boulders.

Everything! Slides, Six Mile Third Canyon drops, WIllow Creek Guard Rail style races, Ingram style drops, Little Su style boulder drops (rounded granite), 10-15’ waterfalls, wall rapids, NZ “slip” style boulder gardens (BIG broken angular rocks).

Long day of steep water sandwiched between 3-4 hrs of walking and 3-4 hrs Talkeetna River boating.

Very committing, very technical, LONG walk out, hard climb up. Go light….

Wilderness Classic: "Independent Sheep"

Here's another trip I did with Jason Geck and Gordy Vernon a few years back over Memorial Day Weekend (2005). It's in the Talkeetnas and starts on the Willow side of Independence Pass. Three days was too fast. Five might be too slow. I have passed this route on to others but all of them have ended up floating out the Kashwitna instead of hiking over the mountains to access the Sheep Creek run, which is classic packrafting whitewater.

Talkeetna Canyon Video

The clear, warm waters of the Talkeetna Canyon fully met my expectations. Perhaps the rapids fell short of what JT had pictured, but they likely surpassed what Becky had dreamed.

A real boater on a variety of watercraft, JT had waited 10 years to run what Embick wrote as “possibly the best all-around whitewater river in Alaska.” For Becky, it’d been an apprehensive drive up the Parks Highway to Talkeetna.

For me the Talkeetna felt as I’d hoped the Happy would: rolling, white-cresting waves and churning, bottomless holes. A river-scape I’d been edging toward by packraft since the mid 1980s, when its gray summer flood made its way onto Fairbanks cabin walls, projected but frozen on suspended sheets with hardshellers in long boats and copper-colored helmets wrestling muscular flows.

Foolishly I asked if it was packraftable.

“No way!”

“There are riverwide holes in there.”

“That river flips BIG rafts.”

“Packrafts aren’t real boats.”

And for some reason, while none of these people had ever actually been in a packraft, they all somehow knew what was packraft-able.

I decided to find out first hand.

In September 1990 Mark Stoppel and I took a single Sherpa Packraft, open and long, with yellow 10-inch tubes and parallel sides, from Yellow Jacket Creek to Prairie Creek, he walking bars and catching a ride in the boat for crossings, me paddling with double packs. It was packrafting abstracted to its near purest functional expression: one boat, two people, big country.

In 1990 we feared the Canyon – like we had the Happy’s the year before -- and walked highlands to Gold Creek. We raft-packed as much as packrafted. But we had only rain gear and foam pads, no dry-suit or even PFD and just the single boat.

Seven years later, Bob Kaufman and I pedaled from Eureka Roadhouse to Yellow Jacket where we met a friend of Bob’s with two big rafts we rode down the high waters of July. Even steering Bob’s little Puma with a paddle in the “fourteen miles of continuous whitewater” I think felt like JT had – something near disappointment.

By 2003 Alpacka Rafts were fairly well established and the first condom-style spray decks were out as prototypes. With a spray deck and a drysuit I discovered whitewater to Class IV. No longer did a packrafter need suffer out of control in a swamped boat full of water. Spray decks opened up clean runs of Six Mile’s three canyons, Little Su, Ship Creek and the Talkeetna’s Entrance Exam, Toilet Bowl in “Outhouse” conditions, Washboard, and the longest rapid on the river about an hour downstream, maybe called "Pearly Gates"?

The Talkeetna that Autumn at the 3k-4k cfs showed itself ideal for packrafters; there just weren’t any packrafters out there who felt ready to do it.

Now there may be dozens. If you can paddle Six Mile’s first and second canyons cleanly and practice self rescue and throw bags to your partners, then you can packraft the Talkeetna below 5k cfs, especially since all the biggest rapids (at most six I’d call PR 4 or Class III+ to Class IV-) are not only scout-able but portage-able

This last weekend I had the honor of joining a group of close friends who honored me with their humor and skill.

I thank Brad and JT for inviting me; and Becky, Tony, and Luc for joining us. …. Such a wonderful trip.

Another Flight

It's amazing the effect that other people have on me.

Even three decades after my first alpine climb with Carl Tobin, I still kick steps in loose snow the way I saw him lead on the ridge descent of "10,910". Paul Adkins showed me to ride the way water flows, Steve Sillett taught me the California big tree way, while Ryan Jordan inspired me to wash my socks on wilderness trips. More recently, I find my packrafting techniques borrow from others: Scott Solle's runaway boat tether; Nathan Shoutis' butt-boat boof; Thai Verzone's eddy-hopping and wave surfing; even Forrest McCarthy's 3/4 spins!

But of all the influence of my current stable of partners, it's Brad Meiklejohn who's pulling me to the dark side with fly-in trips.

Now I wish I could tell you that I'm a purist, someone who eschews flying because it's not "fair", not as "good" as walking/boating/biking/skiing in, and honestly I do feel that way, that it's most satisfying to "earn your turns". I mean, if you're going to fly, why not just take a snowmachine/ATV/jetboat in?

But that old-timey wilderness-guy feeling may simply be self-apology for being too poor most of my adult life to fly into the wild places I so like to visit. Or maybe because I feel motion sick too easily. Or maybe because looking out the window of a low flying plane at the heart-melting landscapes of Alaska is a bit like going to the Great Alaska Bush Co. -- look but don't touch.

But Brad has influenced me in these various ways. He does it without really trying. Like day before yesterday we went to Bird and I was planning to just "flip it" like usual, but we ended up walking the full hour to the regular kayaker put-in and I actually enjoyed all the upper drops and cruisey, boogey water mini-canyons. Or like last July when we -- dare I admit it -- flew in to the Happy River.

So Brad and I and a handful of others he has under his spell are flying in for a weekend run of the Talkeetna Canyon.

I'd like to do it in 24 hours -- mostly 'cause we could if we had the light -- but instead we'll have beautiful blue water with lots of rocks and tongues, holes and fall colors and likely a couple camps.

The Talkeetna before freeze-up is the best time for a packrafter. The water's clear and low and offers more interesting features and less ugly gray volume. I went in there back in late September of 2003 and ran Entrance Exam, Toliet Bowl and the Washboard, as well as everything upstream and a couple drops downstream in an old Alpacka. This was back in the day of pull-on spray decks and I was actually there with a bunch of APU students in open boats and rain gear with ice on the boats every morning (see above). We'd walked there in Classic style, from Eureka, and floated from the Canyon mouth to Talkeetna.

But a lot has happened in six years. Back then I'd been the lone (crazy) packrafter on Ship, Six-Mile, and Little Su at 600 cfs. Now lots and lots of people run those former test-pieces and don't mess their dry-suits doing it.

So this trip this weekend with some of the most experienced whitewater packrafters in the state should be something else.

Big Sky Thai

Yesterday Paul Schauer took Thai and me to what’s likely the most “fun” (type 1 – fun to do and fun to think back about) packrafting creek run I did all year: South Fork of Montana Creek up off of the Talkeetna Turnoff (take a right on Yoder, cross the bridge, go straight until road turns right and walk the ATV trail for maybe an hour and a half or so to N 62.18410 W 149.81017 using NAD 27. The ATV trail just stays sort of on the south rim. Alternatively just walk to the first big muddy bog hole and drop in there for the punchy second canyon.)

The water was very low, under 350 cfs on the gauge and all the kayakers waiting for the 7AM-water-level-call bailed except for Paul – who I’d promised a packraft loan if he would lead me to the river. Paul had accompanied me and Jeff Conaway to Ingram Creek last year and had seen first hand that packrafts are real boats.

Thai and I had planned for Bird, but this looked much cooler, based on a video Paul’s dad John Schauer had made last year on a father son mission of this Class IV+ gem of a whitewater run. Paul has been kayaking whitewater since he was a teenager growing up in Fairbanks and it shows. His fluency reading water and paddling are impressive.

We put in too high and would have had less butt bouncing and bow spinning if we’d used the top of the first canyon as the put in (N 62.17998 W 149.83550). Much above the first canyon, the water was just too spread out and thin and didn’t drop enough for floating. But from this waypoint on down there were great bouldery drops and ledges.

Our run of Montana Creek offered a “Waikiki” character with low-flow Ship Creek or Ingram water-push: ideal for high-end packrafting, although 50 cfs more would’ve been even better (not so bumpy in between the canyons). A broken granite corner toward the end of the first canyon cut a pinky-sized hole in my raft. Good old duct tape from prior repairs provided patch material after drying the boat’s fabric with my cotton underwear. The tape held for all the following bigger drops, too, as it has been holding on my spray deck for the last month.

I’d say there are maybe seven great packrafting drops (“Cody’s Hole”, “Fall-out”, “Big Sky”, “Paddle Chock”, “Tumbled Dice”, “Prow Boof”, “Surf Ramp”) in a mile and a half in two shallow canyons, with the best located near the entrance to the second canyon. Watch for a coal seam on river left and a creek wide ledge and diagonal hole on the next right turn. Downstream “Big Sky” drops six or seven feet after a neat series of pre-drop moves. After the “Big Sky” plunge pool is a slot-like canyon with several steep boulder drops needing some scouting for people like me (“Paddle Chock”). After about 4 hours from the upper put-in, take out at the log that goes all the way across the creek and head up the hill about 0.1 miles to the ATV road (N 62.17871 W 149.87404)

Besides the fantastic water -- its features, level, and clarity as well as the fall colors – boating with Thai and Paul was a dream come true. Both are class V boaters in kayaks, and besides bringing a level of experience, competence and confidence that I have not yet encountered on a packraft-only descent, they both bring easy-going attitudes. Both see packrafts as wonderful tools for backcountry -- and especially wilderness -- creeking, a new frontier of boating really, that doesn’t require uncomfortable loads or huge drops for adventuresome satisfaction.

Paul said he was more nervous dropping “Big Sky” in the packraft than he was in his kayak, but that’s just because this was his first time paddling a packraft! How awesome is that?

Twenty-somethings like him probably represent the future of packrafting, so seeing Paul in a loaner boat that was too long for him wearing his creeking helmet, pads, and paddle was exciting. He already has plans…..

Looking at “Paddle Chock” drop (right around 4:40-4:50 in the video) Thai commented, “Wow, that’s something we would never have considered last year. I mean it just doesn’t look runnable in a packraft.”

“You’re right,” I replied, “kind of worries me to think about what we'll be running next year.”

Waikiki Video

Here's a You-Tube video of Honolulu Creek and the walk-in. Thai Verzone and Gordy Vernon (Mean Mr,Mustard) were great companions on this trip. Funny, skilled, talkative, strong. Gordy fed us breakfast, lunch and dinner.

We are hoping to do Happy River next as a three day trip.

Update July 15, 2018: The upper section is no longer "yukky" but better described as "yummy" especially if in a modern Alpacka, like the Gnarwhale. There are several Class IV drops, but it's certainly not "yukky", especially if you like Class IV.

There's a 15 mile beautiful walk in to Goat Lake. Camp there, walk to the confluence with Honolulu, put camp in the zipper, and head down if water is clear and maybe in the 250 cfs range below the confluence. There is still a nasty drop that even now, we all portaged, although we hear the kayaker's run it. It's the "Upper Sand Bag Falls" described in the "Honolulu Hoop" description and shown in the photo with Brad portaging high above it emptying into a pool.


Waikiki * * * *
20 miles 1 day
Moderate Expense
N. Talkeetna Mountains Hike
ATV trail; alpine scree; mostly tundra
2,940 foot gain
10 mile walk
Honolulu Creek paddle
PR 4(5)
Low volume –100 feet/mile
10 mile paddle

Introduction

The “Waikiki” section of Honolulu Creek is a Ship Creek for Talkeetna. An incredible, scenic walk-in, followed by super-fun (at low water), technical packrafting makes this an Alaskan classic. Honolulu Creek has been called the best Class IV kayak run in the State of Alaska. For packrafters who have mastered low water runs of Ship Creek and Willow Creek’s Guard-rail, this backcountry alternative to Honolulu Hoop cherry picks the best of Honolulu Creek, its lower two canyons. An ATV trail from the Hurricane Canyon Bridge leads to high country hiking with wonderful views. The hiking is easy and enjoyable with no brush and dry feet. While this trip could be done as a camping trip, the low water that’s best for packrafting will necessitate a super-light load.

Waypoints (NAD 27)

Waypoint 010
Little Honolulu Pass
60.01357
149.45705

Waypoint 011
Edge of plateau
63.01616
149.38173

Waypoint 009
Viewpoint into creek
63.02130
149.33865

Waypoint 008
1st meadow
63.02130
149.33865

Waypoint 007
2nd meadow
63.02295
149.33396

Waypoint 006
3rd meadow
63.02374
149.33340

unmapped waypoints
meadows en route
63.02486
149.33482

63.02759
149.33263

63.02690
149.33296

Waypoint 005
Put-in
63.02811
149.33211

Waypoint 004
“Cave Rocks Drop” PR 4
63.02926
149.34432


Waypoint 012
“California Ledge” PR 5
63.03606
149.36962

Waypoint 013
“Slideways” PR 5
63.05850
149.39700

Waypoint 014
“Monkey’s Garden” PR 4
63.06511
149.42608

Honolulu Hoop

Honolulu Hoop * * *
29 miles 2-4 days
Moderate Expense
N. Talkeetna Mountains hike
Some forest, brush; mostly tundra
3,250 foot gain
12 mile walk
Honolulu Creek paddle
PR 5(6)
Low volume –150 feet/mile
17 mile paddle

A scenic hike in the northern Talkeetna Mountains to run the steep, challenging and technical but beautiful Honolulu Creek (Class IV+). Hike involves forest, brush, and extensive tundra walking with views of Denali’s east side and the Talkeetnas. Best done in June when upper North Fork of Honolulu is runnable and alpine and subalpine vegetation not fully leafed out. A loop trip that begins and ends at Parks Highway Crossing of Honolulu Creek. A remote, difficult run in a brushy canyon.

Description A thirty mile weekend of serious wilderness packrafting. The 6-10 hour walk-in is mostly tundra, open forest, moose trail, and easy brush (B4 or below). Paddling begins with an hour and a half on the North Fork of Honolulu Creek (PR 3-4). Camp above the confluence of Goat Lake Creek and Honolulu Creek. Early start with good communication and paddling skills needed for the long day (8-14 hours) down the 12 miles of Honolulu Creek with some PR 5 paddling unavoidable. Start Parks Highway at Honolulu Creek Bridge, 63.0637 N 149.54335 W. Finish A Loop.

Introduction Honolulu Creek has been called the best Class IV kayak run in the State of Alaska. For packrafters who have mastered low water runs of Ship, Six Mile, and Canyon Creeks, this wilderness run of a steep creek can be very rewarding and exciting. Kayakers fly-in to Goat Lake south of Honolulu Pass and run the creek in a day, but walking in adds-up as a two-day trip: a day to walk in and a day to paddle out. The hiking is easy and enjoyable with little brush, most of which can be avoided by judicious use of game trails and meadow linkage.  It is important to travel light, as the technicalities of the creek require quick moves and portages may require steep gorge climbs followed by fight brush in alders and willows.

 Hiking Starting at the Honolulu Creek bridge walk north along the Parks Highway about a quarter mile or less, looking east 20 yards for the start of a low ridgeline across a steep erosion gully, itself hidden below overhanging alders. The ridge leads to the edge of an ancient alluvial bench 100-200 feet above the forested flats of Honolulu Creek. Follow the edge east for about an hour or so through open spruce-birch forest with some alder patches. En route cross over a few gullies and creeks and beneath the Fairbanks-Anchorage intertie power-line. Eventually (2.5 miles) this rim swings north, parallel to a tributary of Honoulu Creek that leads into the high country. As the rim swings north, intercept a moose trail that weaves in and out of rim-side alder patches (B4). Avoid heading directly up-stream, and instead stay in blueberry meadows among thick alder patches in an effort to gain the left ridgeline. Stay high to avoid alders (B3) on intermittent caribou trails, dropping down to follow the creek upstream of an old moraine. Tundra walking and scree climbing lead up the pass and beyond to the North Fork of Honolulu Creek. During spring run-off, this little creek is runnable from below the 3,400 feet elevation. A good place to put in is where two creeks come in on river left with little incised gorges.

Other hiking involves several likely portages along the whitewater run of Honolulu Creek. The first portage past the “Decapitator” (upstream of Goat Lake Creek junction) on river right is easy tundra walking on river left. Portages past the upper and lower “Sand Bag Falls” and “Right On!” are more rigorous and exposed (these are marked as red lines across Honolulu Creek on the map). Longer portages (black) follow moose/bear/caribou trails on river right, some of which can be very distinct but can also disappear in thick B4 alders or willows. Portages past other rapids (red lines perpendicular to stream on map) are short: the first two in open shrubs and tundra, and the last three are creekside.

Boating Honolulu Creek from just below Goat Lake Creek is a Class IV+ kayak run. It’s located a dozen miles from the road in an alder-choked valley with two sharp-rock gorges, one granite sieve-type gorge, and snow-melt whitewater dropping up to 180 feet/mile.  While its flow is in the 250-400 cfs range, its steepness, blind corners, and microeddies  make the potential for cut tubes, foot entrapment, and run-away boats a serious run for packrafters. Secondly, aside from its technical difficulty, sustained rigor, and hazards, Honolulu Creek is poorly documented by the whitewater community. Many hardcopy and online descriptions are confusing. 

Putting-in on the North Fork after the hike-in offers a quick, comfortable 2.5 mile ride (100 feet/mile) to an interesting drop (the “Defibrillator” rapid, PR 4, scout on river left). The creek is splashy, low volume, and fun, well above tree-line, with no real hazards. Below this snaking drop is an easy canyon (PR 3, 125 feet/mile) leading 1.5 miles down to the reach just upstream of the “Decapitator” (Class V) and the confluence of Honolulu with Goat Lake Creek. You will recognize bad rapids are approaching when a large, ten-foot high rock outcrop appears midstream.  This is a good place to get out and portage left past two rapids (the second of which is the kayak community’s Class V “Decapitator Drop”) neither of which looks particularly fun in a packraft. Put in below the Decapitator at the confluence with Goat Lake Creek. 

I consider the run to the road from Goat Lake Creek in nine distinct sections: The first section (blue on map) is a sustained PR 4 section (180 feet/mile) in a shallow gorge for 15 minutes to the first waterfall, “Upper Sand Bag Falls”. Watch for a creek river right about 15 minutes downstream of the confluence of Honolulu and Goat Lake Creek. Eddy right early on for an easy portage or river left late for a shorter, steeper one. If you miss the creek, you’ll see the alarming horizon line and narrow slot. “Upper Sand Bag Falls” looks doable in a packraft, but is best portaged, as a swim looks inevitable and the rock is sharp and the slot narrow.

Section two  (red and yellow on map) is a longer (2 miles), more intense PR 4-5 section, the hardest on Honolulu for a packraft, as the creek drops 170 feet/mile in a deepening gorge of sharp-schist with several probable portages, including “Upper and Lower Sand Bag Falls” (water in between runnable).  Many rapids will require scouting, and some portaging. Swimming is dangerous because of the sharp rocks, small eddies and surprisingly frequent undercuts and sieves. Most of the creek is set 75-100 feet into the gorge, itself topped with alders. Minimum party size ought to be three; but the creek may be too small for much larger parties. At its easiest, this section suggests the first canyon in Six Mile Creek; more often it feels like a high-volume version of the Kenai’s Canyon Creek. Many drops are constricted and powerful. Packrafters may elect to bail out and portage before the canyon ends. River right seems to have the best animal trails.

Section three (black on map) may best be portaged (half a mile) to easy water downstream of the first mapped river right stream and river left pond. Section four (green on map) is relaxing PR 2-3 in an open, broad valley that’s over all too quickly. It drops fast  (125 feet/mile) but easily. 

Section five (red on map) appears as a shallow, granite canyon (90 feet/mile) with two memorable 3-4 foot ledge drops (“Cave Drop Rocks” and “California Ledge”), each framed by big boulders (PR 5). Many PR 4 drops follow the reach below California Ledge which is the best, difficult section of the run for packrafts. While guidebooks and online material suggest this is the hardest section, from a packrafter’s perspective, it is not as difficult as section two in the first canyon below Goat Lake Creek confluence.

Section six (green) is a another, clean, relaxing PR 2-3 section dropping 90 feet/mile through boulders, starting in a gorge and passing through a cottonwood flat (interrupted by a possible PR 4 portage at a river right creek), then ending when the creek takes a sharp turn left into a narrowing canyon and signaled with a steep, fish-tail shaped cascading creek entering from river left.

Relaxation is interrupted in section seven (three red lines across creek), a short, sharp-schist gorge with three powerful drops (PR 5) that can be portaged bankside, the first on river left, the next river right, and the last on river left. The last two arrive back to back. All are runnable in a packraft.

 Johnson’s Alaska Whitewater describes section eight (red on map) as a “manky boulder garden” (2 miles, 90 feet/mile, PR 3-4). It goes on for nearly an hour with big waves and steep channels  among short splits in the creek. Wood becomes an increasing concern.

The final section, an almost relaxing (40 feet/mile, PR 2-3) three miles to the car, takes about and hour through a wide valley with cottonwood sweepers.

The best advice for judging an appropriate water level seems to be to look at the boulders at the Parks Highway bridge over Honolulu Creek.  Looking upstream from the bridge are some large rocks on river left (looker’s right -- see on the right center of photo below ), adjacent to the parking area. If they are fully dry, the run is too low; if there are holes it’s far too high. If you are unable to judge the flow as in the 300-400 cfs range, don’t go.