Clearwater Creek

June 23rd

Continuing on the Denali Hwy., taking it leisurely, since we don't have to be to Teklanika in the
park until Saturday. This road is another 70-80 miles or so, and we are a third of the way. It is
now gravel, after the first 21 of paved path, so the going is slow, to 30 MPH, normally. However,
it is a much smoother ride than the McCarthy attempt in the Wrangell-St. Elias park, which was
deeply washboarded, and Mark feels comfortable that this way is kinder to "M."

M from Geocache

Geocaching has been really fun, and introduced us to such special spots we would never have
discovered here, Hawaii and locally in Idaho. Today, we stopped at three trailheads, based on
the GPS coordinates. The first was just too much bush-whacking after a quarter mile, so we
gave up that search. Behind one of the off-road, informal campsites now all along the highway,
was the sweetest, open trail, through the low tundra, leading to an esker (remnants of rocks and
stones from glacial movement) of black rocks in a diamond shaped pile. Directions said the
cache would be on the edge of this pile. Mark, being the whiz-geocacher that he is, usually can
spot the cache (in various containers of film canisters, ammo cans, plastic tupperware with
screw tops), and oftentimes, lets me try to locate it, to develop my acumen in this sport. I
usually ask for clues after awhile, and he tells me to notice anything out of the ordinary from the
rocks; another tip was noticing the color of all the rocks, and look at a different edge. Well, right
away, when I lifted my chin I spotted the beige rock, and could see the blue lid on the plastic
container.

One is privy to an array of little trinkets within, some called travel bugs one can track on
computer, and toys like a little mermaid, pins, sealed tube of coffee. There is usually a short
pencil and a piece of paper to log in your geocache name, Mark's being "Knotaklu." He will then
log the geocache find on a specific site, on-line, so the creator can be informed. Evidently, one
has to be somewhat local to create a geocache, in order to maintain it, so we would not be able
to do one here.

Our third treasure hunt was about 2 miles, and the most challenging and invigorating, walking
through muddy bogs, tundra, and small creek, and god-awful deep and destructive ATV tracks,
tearing up the bogs even more. Luckily, we brought our walking sticks to assist in fording creek
rocks and mud banks. We were grateful that the bugs were not an issue, surprisingly, with all
the moisture. Getting to about 40 feet away, the clue on the GPS given was "Sometimes money
grows on trees, and so do caches." There was one spindly black spruce right off the trail,
obvious, and the ammo can was visible right away.

Close to the trailhead, a mama ptarmigan, plump, brown and white, came from the tundra brush
on our left, looking as though she were hurt, flapping and scooting herself back towards the
shrubs. Mark sensed she was pretending in order to distract us from her chicks, which was
true, watching her hurry back, and spotting a chick climbing towards her squawking demands.
There was another all brown bird with a red head, also on the ground, talking as it skirted
behind further away brush; I thought this may be a male ptarmigan, the papa, trying to divert our
attention to him? We felt fulfilled after this cache adventure, and tired.

Up the road, we stopped by the McLaren River to lunch in "M," after listening to one of the
Denali Lodge staff lecture to a tour bus lunch crowd there, about their services and the area.
There are sled dog rides as another highlight they provide, and kennels next door, that have
breeded Iditarod champions.

Mark had a specific off-road campsite in mind, he stayed at the last two trips, and wasn't sure of
its exact spot, until we drove to Clearwater Creek, and there was another motorhome driving
into his place! He groaned, moaned. Not to give up, we drove in alongside it, and asked the
couple down by the creek, if they were going to stay there, and luckily, they were not, and
headed for Tangle Lakes (where we left in the east today). Yay! It is another perfect site right
by this healthy, fast-moving creek, with lovely shrubs and wildflowers of bluebells, dandelions,
and fireweed.

We rested, listening to another round of thunder and witnessed lightning before slumbering for a
bit. When refreshed and the storm passed, the creek called to us, Mark got the fly-fishing poles
ready (and I got a refresher course watching and doing), and we walked across the wooden
bridge, to the other side, and casted for about 1.5 hours. Within a very few minutes, Mark
caught an arctic grayling in a quieter pool where another creek blended into the Clearwater. So
exciting for us both, since he had not caught anything on this Denali Hwy. the last trips. He
chose to release it, as fitting, and, always the gentleman, offered me a go at the pool. Same
thing---within a few, I snagged a grayling, let it go, and we rotated two more times, with 4
graylings total. What a gas, really! So fun!!! My line got caught on rocks and trees a couple
times, and Mark assisted me well. He then had to unhook my fly from the back of my fleece. I
don't think I could have survived fishing alone today, with all my mishaps. Hopefully, I become
savvier as the trip and fish continue. As we walked back up the bank, I motioned to a young
man fishing up the creek, pointing to the confluence of the creeks with a thumbs-up, and he
nodded, and swooped there as we got onto the bridge.

Dined on soul-food, tuna casserole, that Mark makes so expertly. Listening and gazing at the
creek as I write.