Yesterday morning, I rode about five miles upriver from Fort Yukon with Paul Herbert, "Snook," to retrieve the salmon that had swum into his fishwheel, then we returned to his house where we ate a big breakfast of half-smoked salmon (....mmmmmmm.... as good as salmon gets!) coleslaw, apple pie and coffee and then I packed my stuff and we loaded up the boat and motored out onto the river with Fat Cat coming along.
That's Fat Cat, hunkered down near the door as we head upriver, headed east and south, from Fort Yukon to Circle.
Further upriver, Snook waved at the occupants of a boat headed downstream, towards Fort Yukon. You cannot drive a car into or out of Fort Yukon and, like most Alaska villages, once you get there you will find few roads, all very short.
But there is a wide-open, free-flowing, highway system and that is the Yukon River and its tributaries, such as the Black, Porcupine, Chandalar and the many other rivers and navigable creeks that drain into it.
Snook's wife Alma and another woman also traveled with us.
To travel on the beautiful Yukon River is a wondrous and marvelous thing.
After we had been traveling for what I believe was a bit over two hours, we came upon a man who had stopped his boat on the south bank. Snook stopped to see if he was okay. He was. I overheard the man say something about how he was going to be on TV, and how someone had lost her keys.
I mistakenly thought the TV reference was a joke in reference to me and my camera. I had no idea what the lost keys thing was about.
Although a seasoned veteran of this trip, Fat Cat was a bit nervous. For maybe ten or 15 minutes, she found some comfort on my lap.
After what I estimate to be about two-and-half hours, we reached Circle, where the Yukon was very high and the drift had taken out a couple of fishwheels and nets. Before I transferred into the pickup truck for the drive to Fairbanks with Snook's wife, Alma, several people spoke of Jeanie Greene, famous throughout this state for her TV program, Heartbeat Alaska. She had documented the Gwich'in Gathering and just the day before, I was among those who waved to her as she set off by boat to Circle.
I learned that she was still there, because she had lost the keys to her vehicle and could not drive off to Fairbanks. She was making good use of her time, though, and was taping and interviewing people in the village.
Not long after I took this picture, Fat Cat jumped off the boat and headed into some dense brush just beyond the beach. Alma told me that this is what Fat Cat always does, but when it is time to go, Alma opens a can of cat food and out she comes.
Finally, Alma's pickup truck was loaded and it was time to go. She opened up a can of food but Fat Cat did not come. So Alma began to search for him, calling out his name. At one point, she heard him "meow," but he did not come. This brush is very dense inside and has an undergrowth that is twisted and matted - easy for a cat to move through but hard for a human.
Snook and I joined in the search. Knowing that it would hamper my movement through the dense brush and might prevent me from retrieving Fat Cat, I put my camera down on the grass just outside the thicket. As Snook and Alma combed the sides, I went to the top of the thicket and began to slowly work my way down through it.
As I did, I spotted the fur of Fat Cat's lower back, very well camouflaged beneath the thick matting. She had gone to ground. I was happy, for I thought she would soon be in my arms and I would be carrying her down to the truck. She was one step out of my reach. "Fat Cat," I spoke in my most soothing voice as I slowly took that step and reached out for her. Before my hands could reach her, she dashed off.
I did not see her again. None of us did, although we searched and searched. To make it worse, for about five or ten minutes I could not find the camera that I had set down, but finally I did.
There was only a tiny handful of houses in the area and it seemed likely that Fat Cat would eventually show up at one of them. One of the occupants promised Alma that she would get Fat Cat and keep her until she could be returned.
There were more people at the boat landing area than usual, Alma noted. Maybe the number of people is what caused Fat Cat to go to ground.
So, with me feeling worried and frustrated - Fat Cat had been just beyond my finger tips and I had not gotten her, as Snook launched his boat back into the Yukon and headed towards home, Alma, her friend and I set off on the three-and-a-half hour drive to Fairbanks.
We soon crossed this tiny bridge.
Not long afterward, we spotted these people picking berries.
There was almost no other moving traffic on the road, but after about 45 minutes or so this amazing vintage pickup truck appeared, traveling in the opposite direction.
We spotted more people picking berries.
Alma sacrificed her own desire to pick berries along with her daughter, Melanie, who drove up the road from Fairbanks to meet us, just so she could get me to the Fairbanks airport on time to catch my flight to Anchorage.
Thank you, Alma. That was exceedingly nice of you.
Somewhere near milepost 50, where we stopped briefly, just to see if there were berries present. There weren't, but there would have been plenty not far away.
As we neared Fairbanks, two men on big Harleys zipped past, going north. This is the guy who was second in line.
Alma dropped me off at Alaska Airlines, pretty close to the last possible moment. Soon, I was on the jet, headed home to heavy rain, Margie, and a troubled sleep in my own bed.
Perhaps, even as I write this, Fat Cat is safe in that woman's home in Circle. I hope so. I think the odds are reasonably good, but for now I have no way to know.
Tomorrow, I will begin to earnestly post a series of images and such from last week's Gwich'in Gathering.
View images as slide show
Friday, September 17, 2010 at 3:20PM 
;)
