Packrafting the Marsh Fork and Canning River Alaska

In June of 2022 we embarked on an adventure that had long been a bucket-list item of ours: to raft from the Brooks Range north to the Arctic Coastal Plain. Our route would take us 100 miles down the Marsh Fork of the Canning and continuing on the Canning River to it’s delta on the Arctic Ocean. This was a self-supported 14-day trip that involved traveling by packraft and by foot whenever necessary due to conditions. Our timing was dictated by our desire to travel before onset of mosquito season, but just after the breakup of winter ice on the rivers.

We honor and acknowledge the Indigenous peoples, nations, and traditional territories of the lands in which we traveled. These include the traditional territories and ancestral homelands of the Gwich’in and Koyukon Athabascan peoples.

Days 1 & 2: Marsh Fork Upper

Our flight to Fort Yukon took us over the Yukon Flats National Wildlife Refuge, a critical breeding ground for millions of waterfowl and traditional homeland for Gwich’in and Koyukon Athabascan peoples.

In Fort Yukon, we packed into Kirk’s plane and headed out on our smokey but nonetheless spectacular flight taking us directly over the Brooks Range.

Crossing the continental divide at Carter Pass, we continued down the headwaters of the Marsh Fork to a small rugged tundra airstrip barely discernible from the rock and tundra around it.

As Kirk bounced down the runway on takeoff, we hauled our gear a short distance to a perfect campsite near a tributary of the Marsh Fork.  

Although the smoke and haze were obscuring the more distant mountains, the weather was pleasantly warm; so after securing our food and gear we went out to stretch our legs and explore.

The following morning we had a magical encounter with a small herd of caribou passing through our camp. We spent the full day exploring the canyons and tributaries of the upper Marsh Fork.

On our return to camp, we spotted another herd of caribou crossing the river so we climb a knoll where we could watch the show.

Day 3: Backpack to Lower Bench

We anticipated that the upper section of the river would be too low to float and still mostly iced in with the seasonal pack ice (aufeis). Therefore, we were prepared to hike downstream until we reached an open channel with ample flow; our best hope being the area around the “Lower Bench” landing strip about 7 miles away.

With fifteen days of food, packrafts, safety gear, and all our camping equipment, our packs were pretty much maxed out.

The “Bench” is a few miles beyond the bluff. The aufeis filled most of the riverbed in this area.

These are grizzly bear tracks worn into the tundra by generations of bears. These led to a den below the rock on the right. We soon spotted a mother and cub foraging on the mountainside a half mile away.

The hiking was good along the shore and over the tundra.

Days 4 & 5: Launch and Day Hikes

The evening before we ended our hike on a bluff just upstream of the Lower Bench airstrip which was already occupied by a guided group (one of only two other groups we saw during our entire two weeks). From our camp we could see near continuous aufeis across river channel though it appeared to be thinning out toward far shore and downstream. Satellite imagery from a few days before our departure also hinted at flowing water on the far side.

The morning goal was to cross the ice to the far shore where we hoped to find a viable channel.

The aufeis was melting fast making for slushy walking and we occasionally heard running water below us as we crossed hidden channels.

Finally, we got to put down the packs and start floating. We had to line our boats occasional in the shallows but the flow increased steadily as we progressed downstream.

That evening we found a scenic riverside bluff to camp and after a short but intense encounter with a curious grizzly, we settle in.

If we hadn’t watched as the bear ran away into a distant valley, we probably would have moved on.

The next day, Kori and I hiked up a nearby valley and returned via a high ridge providing us with amazing views.

It was our consensus that we could have easily spent our entire time at any one of our camps exploring the neighboring mountains and valleys.

Throughout the day and night, small groups of caribou passed near our camp. We would be following their migration to the coastal plain for our entire trip.

Day 6: High Water and Aufeis

In our trip-planning we had been tracking the river conditions using various sources of satellite imagery. I especially relied on the Sentinel imagery as it has high enough resolution (10m) to see major features and river channels and has infrared capabilities to help identify vegetation growth, ice, and water. (I cover my planning process in much greater detail in a separate post.) As our departure date grew closer, I carefully mapped out the sections of river that I felt may be a problem, noting some long stretches where aufeis had not yet broken up. Our greatest fear was rafting a flowing channel cut through the ice and having the river then disappear into an aufeis tunnel. We knew we would be on the edge of the ice-breakup so we were prepared to scout anything that looked suspicious or didn’t feel right.

This day brought heavy rain, sleet, and rising water indicating that breakup was in full force. Stretches of the river that I mapped as boulder-gardens were fully covered in water resulting in long stretches of standing waves and rapids. Though none of the rapids were above Class III, the occasional iceberg and lateral waves from collapsing ices shelves made for some bonus challenges.

The water level rose significantly as heavy rain squalls passed over us. We watched as the aufeis eroded and collapsed into the river widening channels that hadn’t existed a week before.

The dynamic nature of the collapsing ices shelves, the subsequent icebergs and ice dams dictated a number of scouting missions across the ice to find the safest routes.

Though a bit uneven, our campsite was high enough to be clear of any ice jams and our perch provided a good view of the constantly evolving river. All night we heard the frequent booming of large ice shelves crashing into the water.

Day 7: Box Canyon

The next morning revealed a different river than the day before: though the water was still high, there was noticeably less aufeis and a large ice-dammed pond across the river had broken free and drained. We launched our rafts from a shore-side ice-shelf and cautiously made our way. Occasional rain showers followed us downstream, but the river level appeared to be dropping.

A friendly river-guide told us to watch for a box canyon on river right where there would be good camping and hiking. It was great advice.

Our camp was nestled in an opening protected from the wind by a stand of willows.

We took advantage of the long daylight to explore the area. The hiking opportunities on this trip were endless.

Days 8 & 9: Salisbury Creek and Hiking

Generally, the Marsh Fork is considered Class II with a few Class III rapids depending on conditions. Nevertheless to avoid any surprises, our pre-trip research included not just mapping the ice conditions but also the known rapids. The next stretch was reported to have a potentially challenging Class III rapid as the river runs into a rock wall and makes a hard right turn. This would be quickly followed by a canyon section which was described as being either totally innocuous or very hazardous depending on which account you read.  As we approached this section, we found that the river was diverted by thick aufeis and curved before wall section disappearing out of view to right. No longer concerned about the rapids, we were now concerned about the aufeis and canyon beyond.

We scouted the entire stretch to find that the river had carved a wide channel from the bend all the way into the canyon.

The river was just small riffles as we passed through the aufeis then into a scenic canyon.

The river guide also alerted us to a major springs that was not marked on our maps. It was quite beautiful and we noted a number of small fish in the stream below.

After a pleasant day of floating, we setup camp just downstream from the mouth of Salisbury Creek. We planned on spending two nights here and do a long hike the next day. The day started warm and sunny but clouds built throughout the afternoon.

The confluence of Marsh Fork and the Canning River is notorious for complex braiding and aufeis that sometimes covers most of the delta. We were pleased to see very little ice and a clear channel obvious on river right.

A few hours later as we gained the top of the ridge, we were chased off the ridge by a strong thunderstorm accompanied by rain and hail. As we raced down the ridge, we saw lightning strike the bench between the mouth of Salisbury Creek and here.

Day 10: The Confluence & Bench Lake

One of the anticipated cruxes of the trip was the Marsh Fork – Canning confluence; a broad braided delta which in some years can be blanketed in aufeis, the confluence can be challenging to navigate and in some cases require an extensive portage.

Our timing was fortunate since the storms and high water had carved navigable routes through the aufeis and provided ample flow for rafting.

By design this was a shorter day of floating and we had our sights set on camping at a bench lake a few miles downstream on the Canning.

We enjoyed the solstice evening watching swans on the lake while making a feeble attempt to fish.

Days 11 & 12: Canning River

Continuing down the Canning, we emerged from the Brooks Range passing to the west of the foothill ranges including the Third Range separating the Ikakpuk and Ikiakpaurak valleys. The Canning in this stretch flows rapidly but without any major rapids.  Our challenge continued to be navigating the aufeis channels while keeping a reasonable distance from the collapsing ice shelves.  We mostly followed the channels as I had mapped them prior to our trip, but now it was almost two weeks later and it was obvious that the conditions here change by the hour. In a section between Cache and Ignek Creeks it appeared on the imagery as though the river had significantly eroded the eastern bank and my route cut through what, on older maps, is shown as high tundra.  Upon reaching this section the actively eroding tundra banks and submerged willows testified to a newer river course as did a newly formed large Class III rapid that caused us to portage through a willow swamp.

At the time of my pre-trip planning, I had struggled to map any obvious channel from this point for about ten miles downstream as, it appeared as though the entire river channel was flooded.  Floating through this section confirm my theory of a flood – likely caused by an ice damn at a constriction downstream. Fortunately the water had drained, but we found evidence of the magnitude of this flood with large blocks of aufeis stacked on top of each other, gravel dredged and scoured by moving icebergs, bent vegetation, and woody debris high on the tundra bench adjacent to the river channel. 

At the adjacent confluences of Eagle and Cache creeks we found a high gravel bar for the night’s camp.

A newly formed rapid forced to do a “wet portage” though a flooded willow thicket.

Aufeis was our companion throughout our trip.

The Canning River cuts through some amazing geologic formations.

Evidence of flooding from an ice dam downstream.

At the mouth of Ignek Creek, we found a good spot for a camp on the tundra bench. Although the surrounding area had been recently excavated by a foraging grizzly, we felt we had suitable visibility to see anything coming.

Day 13: Detritus of Progress

We were now in the heart of the Arctic Coastal Plain and the river continued to pass through patches of aufeis. Thankfully, the channels were larger and the concept of being sucked into an aufeis tunnel was becoming remote.  We were traveling fast but in no hurry to reach the end of our journey, so we pulled in to camp at the outlet of a small creek draining an low bench on river left.   Climbing up the river bank were surprised to see immediate evidence that the west side of the river is not part of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.  In the middle of this bench was a small pond surrounded by a stack of rusting metal drums and abandon tractor treads

A closer look revealed most of the small ponds in this area were filled with oil exploration detritus as were any other low ravines and willow clumps.  This was a stark reminder of the lack of respect that past exploiters have for this amazing environment.  It is not a stretch to consider that these items of “progress” will remain here for generations as a reminder of the permanence of human hubris.

In some respect this was an appropriate place for our last night on the river.  We were simply visitors here and perhaps we didn’t belong here either.  Although our group tried to keep our impact minimal, we can’t help but have some affect regardless.  Later that evening we watched two grizzlies, one young and one old, on the far bank foraging.  Although I measured this as almost a mile away, they appeared to quickly realize our presence and the older one immediately ran over the bluff and disappeared only to be joined a short while later by the younger one.

Our legacy.

Days 14, 15, & 16: Take-out

Spring was in full force on the coastal plain; sunny skies and warm temps greeted us on our last day on the river.  We were a bit nervous of missing the take-out, diligently tracking our progress on our GPS’ but it was quite obvious when we got there.  After baking in the heat of the sun in our drysuits we took a quick dip in the river which quickly reminded us that this river water had been ice a very short while ago.  The airstrip sits on a large, flat tundra and gravel bench a dozen feet above the river. The airstrip itself is simply two vague strips of gravel the width of the aircraft tires. Surrounding this, the bench was filled with blooming wildflowers and noisy ground squirrels protecting small patches of low willows. We made camp at the edge of the bluff where we were surprised to see only very subtle signs of previous campers. We were told later that most tours do not come this far, but take out at the foothills of the Brooks Range. What a shame. Although the mountains are grand and spectacular, the coastal plain really has no equivalent.

The following morning, we were notified by Kirk that he was unable to fly due to the heavy wildfire smoke on the south side of the range. I have to admit, that we were not disappointed; it was an amazingly beautiful place and we had fantastic weather, the bugs had yet to emerge in full force, and we had planned enough food for a couple extra days. We spend the day exploring the tundra, fishing, and enjoying the wildlife. We watched as a herd of caribou including this season’s young crossed the river, the older animals carefully nudging the young into the swift water and escorting them across. A memory burst into my head of a documentary on Alaska I saw as a child: one segment following the migration of caribou captured the drama of the herd crossing the Canning River. I never would have imagined that I would get to see that in person.

The next day, we spent some time taking stock of our food and also preparing our gear in case Kirk could make it in. It was with mixed emotions when we saw his plane on the horizon that afternoon, I think a couple more days would have been just fine….

With extra time on our hands, Kori and I decided to bust out the fishing gear.

Kori landed the first fish, but I was happy to have pretty good luck with my Tenkara.

Midnight.

The airstrip bench was covered with wildflowers with more appearing each hour we were there.

Cooking one of our final meals.

Short Description

Final Thoughts

This trip was all I expected it to be and more: adventure, challenges, beautiful scenery and abundant wildlife. We encountered high turbid rapids with floating icebergs and collapsing aufeis followed by a lazy float on a clear running stream a few days later – all on the same river. We witnessed the manic seasonal transition from the white quilt of winter to a blanket of green speckled with multitudes of wildflowers. Our journey took us through driving rain, sleet, snow, high winds, and lightning interspersed with long warm days with brilliant blue skies.

It is a truly remarkable experience to follow the gathering groups of caribou on their way to the calving grounds on the coastal plain – an instinctual journey that has been repeated for thousands of years. To trace this route with them is to sense something ancient and true.

The breakup of aufeis is intimidating to travel through, yet awesome in it’s power to transform a river. It added a certain level of discomfort to our journey, but it was a phenomena that I am thrilled to have witnessed in person. Timing is everything, as only occasional patches of the thickest ice remained on the upper river when we flew out 16 days later.

The Arctic Coastal Plain should be experienced in person. It is impossible to feel the energy and immensity of this place without actually having your feet in the tundra and marshes, watch a fox hunt, caribou cross a swift river, and listen to constant call of waterfowl and songs of tundra birds. It is heartbreaking to experience this and continue to read accounts penned by developers and exploiters describing this as a “barren wasteland.” “Barren” is a word that is best used to describe the hearts of those that wish to destroy it.