First, in the middle of the night, I hear tapping outside my tent. It's not moving towards or away from my tent. It's just there and at very steady rate. I know that caribou make a clicking sound when walking. (Still waiting to actually hear it.) Could there be one outside my tent? Well, I convince myself that since it's not moving and it's steady that it's not a caribou and go back to sleep.
At little while later I wake again. The clicking sound has stopped and now I hear chewing, the ripping of vegetation outside my tent. Again it's not moving. I'm so wanting to open my tent to peek but I convince myself that it's probably just a ground squirrel and go back to sleep.
How close in time was the clicking and chewing sounds, I have no idea. I don't even know how soon after both events that I actually leave my tent for the morning. All I know is when I look out, there's a large male caribou maybe less than 100 yards east of my tent. Ugh! Why didn't I just look?!
There's others with him.
But sky is clear and blue! Setting up to be an awesome day.
Even the butterflies are out basking in the early morning sun. This is a new guy for the week (and a lifer for me) - yea! I believe this is a Young's Alpine (Confirmed by BOAMA as Lafontaine's Alpine or Reddish Alpine (Erebia lafontainei)! (At the time, I was thinking this was just the upper side of the Banded Alpine. If I had known, I would have tried to find him again for an lower side view.) [
And another Lafontaine's Alpine with a little different upper side!
The Silvery Blues are around too as are the ground squirrels.
Active sunny day in the Arctic!
After breakfast, we all set off for the Katakturak River Valley which we saw the very first evening. As we go, there appears to be a dead caribou ahead. Two guys in the group are getting very close when finally the animal move - awesome! But he doesn't run at first, very strange. There has to be something wrong because 1) he's alone 2) he didn't move until people were almost on top of him and 3) he's in no hurry to leave. He appears to be moving okay as he slowly move off.
I'm see Arctic Whites and Old World Swallowtails flying!
And we continue up the hill.
And we continue up the hill.
Along the way, I find this odd plant. Perhaps a Lagotis (aka Weaselsnout).
We reach the top of the hill and start down through the rocks, over snow and through the wet vegetation to the valley.
The river winds and branches which leads to numerous river crossings.
Some I just slosh across, some are a little deeper - really not comfortable with this but I do want see what's ahead. We finally get to a deeper (over the boots) crossing - definitely not what I wanted to see. Everyone is one the other side when I start to cross. I'm scared - I've never crossed water before and I don't swim (and I don't want to ruin everyone's day by getting soaked). I'm really not sure how far I get, but I panic and go back. I'm done, I'm not doing this.
I tell the guide to go on but she's not having it. She crosses back over and tells me exactly how we're going to cross. I'm really not quite sure what happened next but without me ever saying a word and without hesitation I find myself crossing the water. How'd that happened? Did I really just place my trust in someone I barely know without even thinking about it? Not a normal thing for me. Must have either been a mini miracle or something in the Arctic air but I'd like to bottle that and take it home with me. But the reality is that I did trust and I did make it safely across.
There's a quote that I like by David McCullough.
"Climb the mountain not to plant your flag, but to embrace the challenge, enjoy the air, and behold the world. Climb it so you can see the world, not so the world can see you."
Well, for me today, that "mountain" to climb is those darn river crossings. But I face my fear and trust and accept help and guess what, a whole wonderful world is there to see. (And a world that probably not many people have seen before or will ever see for that matter.)
The little water falls.
Awesome views
Caribou tracks
Grizzly tracks (no we didn't actually the bear)
And of course, more butterflies
Arctic White
(Confirmed by BOAMA as Boloria chariclea or Arctic Frit)
Eventually we stop at an awesome spot above the river for a snack.
It turns out to be a tiny butterfly hot spot especially for Silvery Blues and more Freija Frits (Confirmed by BOAMA as Boloria Freija).
After our snack we continue down the rocky valley (and over some snow). The river crossings are less now (happiness).
I can see a hill ahead that looks like a dam. I think that's our destination as our goal is to get down the valley and then high enough to see the coastal plane
We pass another waterfall, cross a patch of snow and then there's yet another crossing. Ugh! It looks deeper than our other crossings. My "mountain" has reached its peak, I'm done. But as it turns out, no one goes across. A couple people decide to climb the mountain slope high enough to see the coastal plain and they succeed.
Now it's time to head home.
We stop once again at the prior snack/butterfly hot spot and the butterlfies are still flying. The Silvery Blues are even landing on water logged socks for a sip of water.
And after more snacks, we're off once again.
Instead of returning the way we came, we continue to follow the river valley until we can turn into our valley and head back to camp.
Along the way, we see Ptarmigan.
A few butterflies (I believe this is a Polaris Frit.) (Confirmed by BOAMA as Boloria Polaris - Polaris Frit.)
And the lone Caribou from earlier in the day..
I close by seeing a White Veined Arctic in camp.
Despite the river crossings, what an incredible day! Yes, I said that - not sure many would believe that. I'm so happy to face a fear - definitely not conquer it but push through it by trusting and accepting a helping hand. (Not an easy thing for me). And very thankful for the people who offered.
Butterflies
Arctic White
Old World Swallowtail
Freija Frit
Polaris Frit
Arctic Frit
Lafontaine's Alpine
White Veined Arctic
