Don’t fret the grizzly bears
“Eddy-Out” barked our intrepid guides as ice rose on the horizon. Our topo map, creased by repeated foldings and annotated with findings from previous years’ trips, warned of historical dangers not evident in the blue braids on the page. Standing aft, the guides spotted sheets of ice not marked on the maps. They beached our rafts and scouted downstream. First time visitors to Alaska worry about attacks from grizzly bears. Seasoned guides worry about being sucked under the aufeis.
Fortunately, we suffered neither fate. (Thanks to Nancy and Fredrik from Arctic Wild!) German for “ice on top,” aufeis forms layer by layer, with newer ice freezing atop old. Pressure forces subterranean water through the ice pack, and it freezes on the surface. Aufeis is most common where a river channel narrows or near sources of subterranean water. We floated by banks measuring ~6 feet in height. At times, the land seemed distant beyond it.
The bands of blue and white reminded me of the sedimentary rock of the desert southwest. Driving through that arid landscape, I often review the resonant names of visible layers: entrada sandstone; kayenta formation; shinarump member. Geologists, professional and amateur alike, read the history of the landscape in those colorful layers. I wonder if you can read the history of the previous seasons in this banded ice?
In the summer of 2014, I floated the Marsh Fork and the Canning River from the Brooks Range to the Arctic Ocean with my husband and four of our most adventurous and patient friends. The Marsh Fork starts deep in ANWR, and the Canning River marks the western border of the Refuge as it runs to the sea. A great hope of mine for the trip was an icy Arctic Ocean. That hope sprung from an intense desire to see polar bears. I didn’t know enough to anticipate aufeis, an equally awesome yet less famous denizen of the arctic.
Aufeis was one of the many unanticipated wonders of the Arctic. There were plenty of others. From tundra polygons to snowy owls, we were amazed at every turn. But not by what we expected. We found joy in the myriad variety of minute flowers. We were awed by the scale of the place, discovering that a hike to that little rise in the near distance might require 4 hours of walking. We never expected to eat a salad of arctic fireweed gathered nearby.
President Obama’s recent move to further protect areas through which we floated has prompted me to write some long overdue reflections on that trip. All of the wonders we encountered are as fragile as they are subtle. Changes already in motion will alter the landscape in ways we can anticipate, but I can’t imagine. Any effort to give this region a fighting chance is much welcomed.
