April 23, 1998

Hand written. Delivered by messenger and faxed from a small village in Alaska

Just completed second part of "Over the Brooks with the Herd," the Tuttu trek. After the first part we gathered maps and supplies in Ambler, then flew to 68 degrees 10' 02" North and 162 degrees 40' 01" West to began the second part of the Tuttu trek northward. We left everything we could possibly do without behind, so that we could travel light and fast--keeping pace with a large number of caribou. Our course took us north up the Kugururok River over the Brooks Range at Nachralik Pass and down the Utakok river to the North Slope and southern edge of the calving grounds.

We were kept company by several hundred caribou, all intent on reaching the North Slope in time to have their calves. They were all pregnant cows and last years calves. It is an awesome experience to be surrounded by animals on a centuries old mission. The entire group consisted of hundreds of animals. They were split into smaller groups of dozens, with each smaller group led by a definite leader, sometimes with last years calf following closely. Each smaller group was separated by twenty to thirty minutes.

We watched as wolves, the caribou's main predator, followed usually to one side, of the last caribou in each group just waiting for a caribou to show any sign of weakness or injury. The wolves loped along with ground eating strides. At times the wolves were wary of us and melted into the background. On at least three occasions they went right on by us, once only fifty feet away and another time one-hundred feet away. We are certain that they had watched us for a long time before deciding we were harmless. Wolves are smart and know danger and keep away. We watched two chases, but the wolves gave up when the caribou sprinted away strongly. We saw wolves of all colors from black to light gray with thick winter coats.

We saw a grizzly. Actually he saw us first and when we looked up he was standing on hind legs, his nose moving back and forth testing the breeze for our sent. He was large, dark brown and probably a mature male. Suddenly he wheeled away. He must have caught our scent and wanted to leave in a hurry. As he loped away, his coat rippled with power along his back and flanks. The nearest caribou were at first startled, but quickly returned to grazing. They are grazers and eat the tussock grass and lichens that cling desperately to life on the frozen tundra.

We saw Dall sheep, snowy owls, ptarmigan, foxes, wolves, a grizzly, wolverine tracks and those of our companion caribou herd. The caribou looked winter worn, some with only one antler or at best two broken antlers. Their coats were pale without the lustrous look we will see on the return migration in the fall. They passed us easily on their spindly, long legs. They are so sure-footed in places where we only stumble. On open ground they moved away from us when they caught our sent but in the canyons they paid no attention to us. We could feel an atmosphere of urgency driven by centuries of instinct to reach the North Slope to calve.

This second trek was easier than the first on that took us over the Brooks Range via the Redstone River and Ivishak Pass. Unlike the Redstone River, we had no willow thickets straight from hell to fight our way through. Just like the Redstone, we kept off the river because of uncertain ice. We pushed our luck too far one day when I fell through an icy hole up to my waist but was able to stop my pack and sled from going into the icy water. Just like Bill did on the Redstone, I had to change into dry clothes quickly before they froze cement hard in the -10 degree F temperature. My boots were icy but they were the only pair I had. We reached the upper river where the canyon walls became steeper but we pushed on pulling our sleds behind us. Sometimes we had to relay our packs and sleds across the steeper walls. The wind was 20 to 35 mph coming down off the Pass. The caribou weren't affected by the wind at all. They just plodded along.

At last we were over the Pass. We knew the hardest work was behind us. We headed down the Utokok River and found the scenery windswept and vast. We headed north with the 69th degree of latitude north as our goal. This is the southern reaches of the calving grounds and where we will return in June when the pregnant cows calve. At calving, the year old calves, who returned with their mothers to the place they were born, will leave their mothers as soon as her new calf is born. The cows will lose their antlers and winter coats and spend the summer feeding the new calf, gaining weight, and trying to avoid bugs such as mosquitoes, bot flies and warbles. Then they will make the long journey back to their wintering grounds south of the Brooks Range. The bulls leave the winter grounds later and make a more leisurely north and meet the cows and calves later in the summer.

When we reached our final destination and waited for a plane to pick us up, we watched our companions fade into the distance. Some would calve here and others more to the north. We hope they will all have healthy calves and a safe summer. Perhaps we will meet some of them in the fall on the return journey. We hope so. We have learned so much from them and the wild land around us. They have given us so much and asked nothing in return. Yes, we hope we meet again.

Last and most northerly coordinate: 69, 01' 22" North 162, 05' 11" West

I'm sitting in our tent writing this with cold fingers and a pen that doesn't do well in the cold. We are at our northerly position waiting for the plane. It's very cold today-below 0 degrees F with a 30 mph COLD wind. I'm not sure of our flight route. We will know more when the plane arrives. We are on a small frozen lake and they will land a small bush plane on skis on the lake's surface.

H & B...