night navigation

i awake at 11:30 pm, very much rested and ready to start my shift. the pilot's shift at midnight. I'll be relived by dad on his captain's shift at 6:00 am. how these shifts started are unknown to me, but all the interior river tugs follow the same 6 hours on, 6 off routine.

stepping out my cabin door on the upper deck i can see the prop wash from the back deck light. showing the tops of many swells behind the tug, the river beyond is pitch dark.  we're steady as she goes..the waves are straight and i generally know where we are along the yukon by calculating our speed with the time i laid down after dinner at 6:00pm.  it was just starting to turn twilight at that time and we were passing eagle slide. a clear night with a low waxing crescent moon means the tree line and hills can be seen if one does not look directly at them. for a moment i stand along the side rail on the starboard upper deck to gather my night vision. by looking just above the trees or hills it's not difficult to make out the ridge line or stands of timber along the river.  i check to see if the valley for simon creek is just ahead. a narrow notch in the hills along the yukon's north bank. i find simon creek in the darkness, but have to shield my eyes from the running lights. i know where we are by the shape of the ridge above us. dad is out from the shore on a straight stretch and the river is calm and peaceful. it is precisely the area where i thought i would resume my shift. dad hits the search light and finds the rock bluff just below simon creek.  now i know exactly where we are as i go down to the back deck and enter the galley. the galley's bright light blinds me as i fill a Thermos of fresh coffee. i can hear steve, the deckhand assigned to my shift drop to the deck loudly. much to my annoyance since such sounds while running at night are  signs of problems. he opens the door squints from the bright galley and asks,"where are we?" i tell him, and explain once again why he should not run or jump around at night.  the engine remains steady, i know dad felt steve's thump and opened the side door to look out toward the back at the prop wash to see if the prop is kicking anything out. there's no change in rpm so i know he's satisfied that all is well as i climb to the wheel house. his eyes are already accustomed and can see me good, while i'm half blind. i greet dad asking, "was the ol' man in blackburn?" he nods yes and says two boats, meaning clint had company. smiling he steps from the helm chair and stretches while i let my eyes adjust to the darkness outside the closed wheel house windows. he hits the search light and says "simon creek is right there." "yep" i say.  he reads my lips and nods OK, satisfied i've got my bearings. we're making good time and the weather is holding. he leaves the wheel house and heads to his cabin just below. as soon as i sit down, i shine the light on the bow wave to see how the two barges are riding, i memorize it's movement so that i can detect any changes later if need be. moving the light from the bow toward the beach, i find the shore line and establish my mental bearings and distance from the beach. everything is how it is supposed to be. from now on i will use the search light sparingly. avoiding all light to preserve my night vision.

this is an easy stretch of the river with a long low ridge following the Yukon, i cannot run way out in the middle because there is a big gravel bar in the middle of the yukon straight out from the rock bluff below simon creek. it's still very deep with plenty of water for the ramona. but i stay away to be absolutely sure, favoring the ridge. i confirm our position and look for my mark, the rock bluff, by turning off the running lights for a moment before shining the search light along the beach. passing stumps and piles of drift i find the rocks and the dark hole below the bluff that is it's eddie. a reflective fish net buoy suddenly appears in the light and all my instincts are confirmed. we are in the main channel out just close enough to miss the gravel lump yet still able to easily find the beach with our light. i turn the running lights back on..holding up one hand to shield their reflection off the load, i must protect my night vision. looking for and following the ridge line down toward the dip that i know will be grayling i begin to plan my crossing.

i cannot see the village yet, set back into it's small valley, but i know it's there. so i  hold everything steady as i imagine in my mind's eye our position in the river and the upcoming crossing from the many, many times I've been through here during the day. a single small stand of tall spruce on the other side of the river is my marker for the end of the gravel bar. i find it with the light. i can start my crossing at anytime. but i choose to wait until the third fish camp above grayling to be sure I'll miss the gravel shallow. we have no fathometer but it's at least 40+ feet deep here. i take few chances in the darkness. i can see about where each fish camp is by the notches in the ridge, another memorized marker.

it's an easy run on this stretch of the Yukon so i relax and shine a concentrated beam of red light from a pencil like light mounted with a swivel on the wheel house roof adapted from 12 volt aircraft technology. with this red light i can avoid being blinded the next time i look into the darkness outside the wheel house. we've removed all dash light bulbs to keep the wheel house completely dark with black curtains on strategic wheel house and other cabin windows. shining the red beam onto our dash i check engine temp, rpm, and oil pressure. all is well as i hit the search light again and find the start of the cut bank across the river. this time before turning off the search light i pass it over the wind sock on the  bow. it is full only from our movement. a clear calm night on the yukon. one of my favorite times. i begin to make my crossing looking for the steep cottonwood cut bank broken only by a short mud beach directly across from grayling. finding my fish camp marker i begin to cross. by the time we're half way across the river i can see the lights of grayling 5 miles below. a pair of truck headlights appear and start bouncing along the beach. i see it climb the bank. whoever is up and around the village landing has just shown me where the village slip is. despite the blind from grayling's lights i point the search light toward the town landing and the receding tail lights. the shine of aluminum boats lined up in front of town stand out against the darkness all along the gravel beach and into the mouth of the grayling river. all this tells me we are right where we are suposed to be. we missed the gravel bar, finished the crossing and should be approaching a long slough with a mud beach full of moose willows. this marker  is also the yukon end of the winter portage to shageluk on the innoko river.  about the time i'm straight scross from the village, the truck reappears and flashes it's headlights at us.  knowing we have nothing to pickup or drop off..i take it as a hello from an unknown grayling friend. although about a mile away i can still flood them with our search light to acknowledge. then i flash the running lights off and on to say goodbye. their parking lights flash.

in the search light i look for and find the winter portage to the innoko, it's my mark for the start of a high cottonwood cut bank. the crossing is over and i now focus on how parallel we are to the bank. a bit oblique, i straighten it out by looking behind the tug at the ridge we are leaving. so far i'm having a very easy shift, so i use the search light to scan the top of the cutbank. playing a bit and looking along the edge for shining eyes from animals coming out to the river. there's nothing, so i turn all lights off and concentrate on the upcoming islands, visualizing the turn of the main channel and the Hugh sandbars below grayling. i can see the hill at anvik 18 miles away, the runway lights are off.

with sandbars in the middle, the main channel gradually follows a cottonwood point along a big island then turns sharply toward anvik after passing the mouth of the anvik river.

but rather than take the main channel i choose to make better time by going on the inside of garden island through a slough we called rudy's slough.  i never did learn it's real name since we never used maps or charts. we called it rudy's because my dad's brother had a fish camp at it's lower end. it is narrow at the head with two quick turns then opens up into a long wide stretch. it cuts off maybe a mile or so of river and avoids the lights of anvik entirely. perfect for a return shortcut, but for me and tonight a much more interesting challenge on this otherwise uneventful night. gradually easing the barges toward the inside sandbar point at the head of the slough i scan the willow point and adjust our position as we enter the slough.  finding the snags in the first bend i again adjust our position and correct our drift by easing closer to the sand point. once i see the head of the slough behind me i straighten the wheel to stop all drift. the half dozen snags and the cut bank full of sweepers at the entrance show bright in the search light. after turning toward the opposite sandbar/willow point, i begin to make the turn to starboard to avoid the snags i know are there in the next bend. the slough is narrow here and the search light picks out all the snags, points, and willows easily. reassured i'm not going to run over anything while starting into the final turn, i immerse the tug into complete darkness by turning off all lights. the tree line immediately shows perfectly lined out in the moon light and i can easily see the long stretch ahead. all along this stretch i have other  markers memorized.  the end of a willow bar full of goose grass, a tall stand of spruce, a single bobbing snag halfway through the slough. the ridge is no longer visible behind me now. it's all instinct and prior experience. visualizing our position in my head. i see the one shallow spot in the middle of the slough half way through at the bobbing snag. i watch the bow wave just as much as i look for the telltale willows or timber stands. should the barge begin to push the wave ahead i know it's getting very shallow and must adjust or full reverse quickly, no room for indecision. dad would always tell me about these times,"a good pilot is always right, seldom wrong, and never undecided."
i'm not concerned since i've been through here many times. satisfied we're ok, i relax. again checking the engine gages and sipping my coffee. pleased with this short cut maneuver. i know now that we'll be close to bonazilla about the time dad returns at 6:00. it will then be daybreak in an area of the yukon where the channel goes among many sandbars far out away from  cut banks and hills or any markers. navigation is possible. but it's a more difficult place to run in the darkness since there are only low sandbar points, and very few stumps, only "dim" markers to reveal the tug location.  the perfect place to welcome a new day.  just what i want to happen for dad, knowing he'll be pleased. the shortcut will serve it's purpose.

reaching the end of the uncle's stretch we are close to the mouth of the slough and uncle rudy's camp. i can see the tops of the cottonwood patch, with two tall spruce at the cottonwood cluster's lower end, across from his old camp. i begin to maneuver for the final 2 turns and our reentry into the main yukon.  i hit the search light and find the old smoke house, swinging the light quickly to find the lower point of garden island marking the main yukon. the slough is a little narrower here so i have no trouble following the sandbar point full of goose grass to the diamond willow cut bank point marking the end of the island created by this slough. a fishnet buoy in the point is my final mark and we're back into the yukon where i can easily see the hill of anvik  behind me up the main river where the village and the anvik river is. i find the high cottonwood cut bank again below and align anvik's hill in the pilot house windows to position the ramona in about the middle of the main channel. the faint light of sunrise is brightening behind me as i point the tug straight down along the gradual bend of the cut bank toward the hill that is bonazilla, i draw the black curtain to shut out the reflection of the sunrise. one final crossing to bonazilla. my shift will soon be over. i can hear dad moving around, he comes into the wheel house to retrieve the now empty Thermos.

he asks, " you go through rudy's?" "how was it?"  although deaf, i tell him in our own way the story of all the snags, some new and others gone, and he smiles. daylight is coming upon us quickly and i give him the wheel. bonnazilla is in sight, my turn to sleep. i will awake when dad opens it up in reverse to turn the load around in ghost creek slough to land at holy cross. then i will again go to work, this time unloading in a flurry of gnats and an eager contractor wanting to rush. the city hurry, they forget we're still floating and must consider weight, balance, and the logic of simple physics to unload safely. sometimes a nuisance, i try to insist..to just give me your crew and go call the office. it'll be on the beach when you get back.

most do...but some know it all, and do not like listening to me, this teenage kid. stubborn ones want dad. i tell them no..he's sleeping, annoyed i take our crew and just get to work laying ramps. i tell them to warm up the key stone piece of equipment that must move first, then i guide them off. kicking the back of the machinery as they leave. then we easily finish the unloading. the 1st piece gone makes lots of room. there's no time to fool around, we'll be returning the 650 miles upriver to nenana as soon as the ramps are back aboard. mom happily welcomes visitors in the galley, knowing we will not be long here.

when i first began to learn these things as a boy i had the captains shift because it was in the day time and i had yet to memorize my own markers. the pilot house a study hall surrounded by yukon beauty.
before learning, one of my fondest memories is of laying in my bunk with dad at the wheel in the pitch dark.  i'm warm and comfortable with a deep sense of absolute security knowing dad was at the wheel. the hum of the engine and a gentle rock or shutter of the tug the only reminders that we're moving and the river was still there. i knew that no matter how dark or where we were, i was safe and all was ok as long as dad was at the wheel.

rising at 5:30am, i loved stepping out into a morning chill, maybe a light breeze to take my first 6 hour day shift at the wheel.  then for 6 hours twice a day every day for 6 months of 35 years i followed the channels of the yukon and tanana rivers paying close attention to detail. not always looking at the river in front of me, but the horizon forward,behind, and "overthere". when we were positioned correctly i selected a marker and looked for it every time we went by, whether on shift or not. updating my memory with our position in the river.

one of my markers on the tanana below manley is a crooked aspen, curled by growing on the hillside. when i last went by, it was still there but now with 3 curls.  i first found it when it's 2 unusual curls caught my attention as i slowly went by right along the beach. in as close to the shore slack water as i could. it stood out where i needed to find my upriver crossing. eventually i didn't need to cross. i found instead more slack water and it became an important marker for me on my upriver slack water night run along a long sandbar close to the hill where i could make good time avoiding the current. my curly aspen still lives there today. it's such an unusual growth.  i've showed it to a only few people, knowing they could never find it again on their own. the best way to bring it home is by a picture since i would not want to cut it down or bring it home to clean up and display. it belongs there. after all it was working on a 4th curl when i last went by. the river keeps moving but my crooked, curly aspen is still in the same place. on the side of an old slide along a hill.

the river lets me know that i'm right where i'm suppose to be...come hell or high water.

i'm ok as long as i trust my life long markers and instinct. when i doubt myself, i look around to try and understand how and why i am where i am. i'm suppose to be here. what should i learn and where are my new markers. such is the life of a serious river rat.

the MV Ramona awaiting a 2010 spring launch