Kayaking in Katmai

Part 1

By Marc Donadieu
Special to the Turnagain Times

This summer, from early June to early July, I spent a month in Katmai National Park kayaking solo. Most of my students thought I was crazy to attempt such a trip. A few of my colleagues speculated whether or not I would end up floating home down the Naknek River in pieces. My parents were resigned about the trip because they expect such behavior from me. But I knew I could do it and smile at the end.

To make the most of the short Alaskan summer, I need to take a long trip into the wilderness. I am alive and free while alone in wild places. They let me escape into a different reality and a mindset away from the demands of civilization. The scenery is always changing, which keeps my mind composing possible photos. The solitude is relaxing. The possibility of encountering bears keeps me on my toes.

The trip started with a small dream on a cold March day. I wondered what to do for a dramatic summer trip where I could observe Alaskan nature, take lots of photos, fish, and enjoy relaxing. Last year I did an 11-day solo kayaking trip in Katmai from Lake Camp (near King Salmon) to Brooks Camp. It was my first time in a kayak and I did fine because I had canoeing experience. I knew I needed much more time to properly experience this park. With a month, I could enjoy much more of the park and not worry about bad weather or rough water days keeping me on land.

To make this dream happen, I had to commit to it and plan it out. The first step was buying the kayak, paddles, and other gear online. I chose a one-person 14.5-foot Necky Manitou for its size and affordability.

Then I purchased a Mossberg 500 Mariner shotgun that holds 6 1¼ oz. slugs. I’ve spent a lot of time alone in bear country in Alaska and elsewhere, and I have never had any problems. This time I wanted protection if I needed it. Katmai bears have a good reputation, but there is a reason all of the locals discretely carried firearms into the park well before doing so was legal this year.

Since I live in Naknek, Katmai is my backyard. I just have to get a ride to the end of the road at Lake Camp where Naknek Lake becomes the Naknek River. My transportation expense was buying a friend a bacon cheeseburger in exchange for a ride.

The conditions were not promising upon arrival. The water was choppy, the sky was dull grey, and the wind gusted steadily. It took a while to get my gear loaded into the kayak’s two hatches and onto its top. Somehow it all barely fit. I had some serious doubts about whether the kayak could hold my 225 pounds, two weeks of food, fishing gear, camping gear, and camera equipment, especially if the water was rough.

Then Trevor arrived from Naknek Lake on his boat after fishing for rainbows. He’s a fellow teacher at the Bristol Bay Schools. He reported that the wind was strong and the lake was rough with white caps. He advised not to go out, and I listened. I declined a ride back to Naknek in case conditions settled. With no change, I set up camp and hoped for a better morning.

When I woke, the sky was slightly cloudy and the river was settled. It was time to start realizing a dream. Just before I launched, a fisherman backed his boat down the boat ramp. He asked, “What kind of firearm are you carrying?” There was no asking if I was carrying one.

I nosed the kayak into the water and carefully checked to make sure its balance was centered before I stepped in. Once I was paddling, the kayak handled well as I glided across the glassy water. However, with two full bear resistant food containers, a shotgun plus slugs in a water-resistant canister, and smaller gear strapped on top, the kayak is a little top heavy and rides close to the water. That makes it more liable to tip if pushed too far.

I had to be very careful to see how the kayak handled. If it tipped, I’d be away from shore in very cold water. Even with a life vest, getting the kayak and myself to land would be a difficult feat for a short distance. I was not about to take any chances. At least that is what I thought at the time.

Staying close to shore makes for a lot more paddling, while carefully cutting across open water saves a lot of time and effort. I arrived at rocky, shallow spot where I camped last year. Rather than check the map and use some common sense about the deceptiveness of distance, I thought I could make a large, easy cut across open water to a desired point on the horizon. The water was fine, the sky was mostly clear, and the wind was nominal.

I was not trying to prove anything, and my casual decision turned out to be a bad one. The route I chose took much longer than I expected. When the wind picked up, I knew I was in a tricky spot. The lake was getting rough with small swells but no white caps. Going forward was the closest way to reach land. If conditions grew any worse, I did not know how the kayak would handle.

I paddled with stronger, determined strokes. Then a rogue swell smacked me from the right side and the left side of the kayak dipped into the lake. I quickly leaned to the right and the kayak centered after taking in some water.

Now I knew that I might be in trouble. My left calf suddenly cramped. It is very difficult to stretch in a kayak, but somehow I alleviated my cramped calf. A lot of “what if” questions scurried through my mind. I could handle the small swells bow first, but what if the water turned worse? What would I do if I tipped? I had to focus on staying calm, paddling steadily, and reaching the distant shore. I kept paddling directly ahead trying to visually pull myself to the distant shoreline, even though the choppy water made keeping a straight route impossible.

Adrenaline kicked in, but I did not panic. My arms and shoulders grew sore as I kept up a strong, sweaty pace. Every so often I spoke out loud to encourage and recognize my efforts. As I got closer to shore, the water settled some and I relaxed my pace to save my strength. My upper body was tired and my mouth was dry. I drank a little water, but I was still too amped up and too shaky to drink more.

The shoreline finally drew close and I beached the kayak. I hobbled about because my legs were stiff from sitting too long and my right knee was aching. I decided to set up camp and not push myself any further. I had had enough acclimating for my first day on Naknek Lake.