During stage 1 we will kayak 1,400 miles from Seattle, Washington to Skagway, Alaska. The Pacific Northwest is home to a wide range of aquatic and terrestrial animals. We will be studying whales and other marine mammals, kelp forests, salmon, and many other species.
The Pacific Northwest is home to a variety of large land mammals including Grizzly Bears, and Black Bears. Above and below the surface we are sure to find plenty of things to learn about. Many of these large mammals need large undeveloped spaces to thrive and the roadless sections of British Columbia and Alaska provide the perfect habitat.
From Skagway, Alaska we will hike over the Chilkoot Pass in the footsteps of thousands of gold seekers who struggled across the pass to reach the Klondike. Many of artifacts remain from those early days, and we will follow their path all the way to Dawson City along the mighty Yukon River.
From Bennet Lake on the eastern side of the Chilkoot Pass we will canoe through a chain of lakes that form the headwaters of the Yukon River past White Horse and down the swift flowing Yukon River to Dawson City. 
From Dawson we will hike 100 miles through the mountains to the headwaters of the Blackstone River. The Blackstone flows into the Peel River, which flows in the McKenzie River, which will lead us to the Arctic Ocean. The rivers flowing through these rugged mountains as some of the most pristine wild rivers in North America, with hundreds of miles of flowing waterways between towns or roads.
After over 2,600 miles of paddling and hiking we hope to reach the Arctic Ocean before freeze up. We will spend the month of October,2010 training our dogs, and learning about native life in the Arctic. In November we will head south along the McKenzie River by dog team, crossing 1,800 miles of frozen wilderness. There are many remote native communities along our way and we are sure to learn a lot from the people we encounter.
When the ice melts in the Spring of 2011 we will transition from dogsled to canoe and paddle 2,300 miles along the historic travel and trade route pioneered by Alexander McKenzie, Samuel Hearne, and other Canadian Explorers in the 1700's. We will finish this stage of our journey in the fall of 2011 by completing the 8 1/2 mile Grand Portage which will lead us to the rock shore of Lake Superior.
After spending the winter giving presentations and making final preparations we will begin 4,800 mile kayak journey from Grand Portage, Minnesota to Key West, Florida. The first 2,200 miles will take us through the Great Lakes and out the Saint Lawrence Seaway. 
During the final stage of our journey we will kayak the length of the Atlantic Coast from the Saint Lawrence Seaway to Key West, Florida. We will be following the seasonal whale migration from the Bay of Fundy in Maine to the warm clear waters of the Gulf of Mexico. Along the way we will visit cities large and small, and study a variety of ecosystems and environmental topics. We also plan to take side trips into the cyprus swamps and Everglades National Park looking for Alligators, birds, and other critters.
Expedition Updates
Updates
Syenite Pass
Friday, 20 August 2010 14:46
8-16-10
Hiked 8 miles
Yesterday we trekked over Syenite Pass. The day before we hiked 6 miles down into the Tombstone River Valley and hiked up toward the pass. We had been hoping to get over the pass, but the uphill slog through brush in really hot sun had taken its toll. Oh well. We were slightly ahead of schedule anyway, so stopping in that beautiful alpine valley with a clear, cold stream running past was quite alright.
We set our tent up on a little mound with a strategically placed boulder on it. We had a view down the valley to a mini lake formed by that stream. We could also see the pass from our tent. Then, we were surrounded by crazy steep mountain spires on either side.
Dave told me that at one point in the night he realized it was actually dark outside. Stepping out of the tent, he saw stars for the first time in a long while. The Big Dipper was coming up over one of the mountains and the North Star was almost overhead.
Hiking over Syenite Pass was, honestly, a was a bit easier than expected. Sure, it was steep. I thought it was neat how it sort of leveled off at the top. Other passes I have done have been steep and just gotten steeper as you go up. We noted that we actually could have camped right on top of the pass. The view was spectacular, looking down on two gorgeous alpine lakes and the valley that forms the West Blackstone River.
Coming down the pass was our most technical bit of hiking, because of the large boulder field. It was odd how easy it was at first, picking our way through the gently sloping terrain. The further down we climbed, the steeper it got. We just slowly picked our way down. Several times we shifted a rock or two, holding our breath, hoping that more wouldn't tumble.
It was a relief to reach the bottom with no bumps, bruises, or twisted ankles. We followed a caribou trail along the west side of the lake. Stopped for lunch and a swim at a nice rocky spot, where we had a view of the cliffs that were just below another alpine lake. We soaked up the sunshine.
The rest of the day was spent piecing together game trails in the tundra. It is worth noting that there are no trees here and permafrost lies under the ground, making this one of the southernmost regions of arctic wildlife and plants. That reminds me-- we saw our first ptarmigan when hiking up the Syenite Pass.
We found several caribou antlers scattered in the landscape, chewed at the tips by mice and pikas in need of calcium. It was another hot, sunny day, which was made hotter by the fact that we needed to wear our bug shirts. Clouds of black flies (I say black fly because that's what they looked like, but they didn't really bite) hovered around our heads, constantly flying into our noses, eyes, and mouths. After the fifth bug flew up my nose, I donned the bug shirt. Dave instigated wearing just the bug shirt with no other shirt under it-- to stay cool. I followed suit. It helped.
We hiked through the spongy, brushy, and (at times) mucky tundra ground, trying to get on game trails whenever possible. We had heard that a horse trail ran along the river here, so we were constantly keeping an eye out for it, with no luck so far. The going was slow. We would try to get on top of ridge-lines and cut off bends in the river. The big thing was to avoid slogging through marshy terrain.
We stopped to make dinner and rest a bit on a little rise. Both of us felt sort of discouraged at that point, slowed by the heat and the difficult terrain. After a delicious batch of pasta, our spirits were buoyed a bit. Once we started hiking again (this time down closer to the river) our luck changed. We found the horse trail!
This may sound like a rather small feat, but given the struggle we were having moving through the landscape, finding the horse trail was momentous. It was odd, looking down in the mud and identifying horseshoe prints and even the occasional human boot print in the mud after days of following the cloven hoof marks of caribou.
So we hiked on the horse trail in the heat and the bugs. As we were beginning to think about camp for the night, the trail led right to the river. It was a braided stretch of river-- shallow and wide, broken up by many gravel bars. Dave spotted a green shack across the river. It must be used by the horse packer who guides hunting trips out here.
We walked from gravel bar to gravel bar, wading through the shallow water. After a bit of discussion, we picked a nice, relatively high gravel bar to camp on, not far from the green shack. We were only slightly concerned about what would happen to our little gravel bar if we got a big rain. It sprinkled a bit in the night and fears of a downpour and flash flood ran through my head. Fortunately this fear didn't materialize. It was only a sprinkle that didn't last long and had no effect on the water level.
I remember stepping out to pee in the middle of the night. Like Dave, I was amazed to witness darkness. The sky was overcast and there was a pink glow on the northern horizon, stretching much further than your typical sunrise, as only can be seen in a northern summer sky.
