Life and Times of a Big River: An Uncommon Natural History of Alaska's Upper Yukon
By Peter J. Marchand; Snowy Owl Books/University of Alaska Press; 2015; 200 pages; $22.95
In 1975, Peter Marchand was a young biologist hired by the federal government as part of a team carrying out the first systematic biological inventory of the Yukon and Charley Rivers region of Interior Alaska. It was an area with unsure jurisdiction populated by perhaps two dozen homesteaders. In the wake of the then-recently passed Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act, the U.S. Congress was moving toward placing large swaths of Alaska under various protective statuses. Yukon-Charley lands were high on the list of potential park or preserve options, and the government wanted to know what was there.
For Marchand, an ambitious plant biologist who had dreamed of Alaska his whole life, it was a chance to gather data from an area about which little was known. He and his fellow researchers would discover much that summer, not just in their respective fields of study, but also about a fading way of life in one of the final outposts of the vanishing frontier, as well as a valuable lesson in survival.
Four decades later, and after years of on-and-off effort, Marchand has produced "Life and Times of a Big River," an account of that summer. Subtitled "An Uncommon Natural History of Alaska's Upper Yukon," it is very much that. While natural histories generally focus on flora and fauna, Marchand expands this notion to encompass the human life in the area as well. People who adapted to the demands of the land and became as much a part of it as the plants and animals contribute to its natural history.
Echoes of 'Deliverance'
Marchand's summer started in Circle, the small Yukon River town at the end of the Steese Highway, from where he and his cohorts launched their trip upriver. He describes it as a place where everything in sight had a utilitarian purpose and where the locals were angry at a government on the verge of pulling the land out from under them and taking over.
While there are faint echoes of the movie "Deliverance" in the cool reception Marchand and his associates receive on their arrival, it quickly becomes apparent that his sympathies are more with the locals than his employer. In the first half of the book, he devotes as much attention to the history of human habitation in the area as to his own experiences.
Marchand describes the Native people who came first and the lifestyle they carved out of the harsh environment, then discusses how they were swamped by the rush of miners who rode in on the Gold Rush and just as quickly left when better prospects arose elsewhere.
It's those who came and stayed who truly capture Marchand's imagination, though. At the time he was doing his field work, there were still a few people rattling about that part of the Bush, using the river as their main transportation corridor. Marchand's encounters with these backwoodsmen offer some of the book's best passages.
Of all who pass through these pages, the most memorable is a younger man named Kandik Fred who paddled up to the researchers' camp one day offering to share fresh beaver meat. Originally from Connecticut, Fred had abruptly quit his job, abandoned his wife and kids, and come north. Although poorly educated in the traditional sense, he was a careful observer of his surroundings and knew how to listen to those with experience in the country. Marchand quickly realized that Fred's observations on the natural world were as knowledgeable as any field scientist's, and he came to deeply respect the ability of Fred and other residents of the area to carve their lives off the land. All they asked of their country was the freedom to take care of themselves.
Scientific work takes back seat
Plenty more happened during Marchand's eventful summer. A helicopter mishap left the men separated. One had all the food and supplies while the other three were left stranded with next to nothing. It's a lengthy and dramatic chapter as Marchand and his two companions await an expected rescue that doesn't materialize, spending days without food or adequate shelter while thunderstorms pound them. No one died, but the incident serves as a reminder of how quickly things can go awry in Bush Alaska. For all their book learning, none of the three men had the skills to survive in a pinch and were lucky help came when it did.
Amid all the adventures, the scientific work that was carried out mostly takes a back seat to the human interactions, but Marchand does weave it into parts of his narrative. Much about the natural world of the Upper Yukon is presented, but in ways that are as much appreciative and poetic as they are informative. Marchand has a gift for imagery and analogies, such as this description found midway through the book:
"As the moose passed under a low, sweeping spruce branch, a cloud of mosquitoes rose in unison from its back and then settled down again as the branch cleared, like dust behind a speeding car on a gravel road."
Of his own studies, Marchand mentions that he found unexpectedly robust growth indicated by white spruce tree rings, an early indicator that the climate was warming, although he didn't recognize this at the time.
Marchand's descriptions of life along the Yukon are filled with the intricate connections that bind all forms of life to one another, with humans a part of the web spanning out over the landscape. In his closing chapter he mourns the end of the homesteading lifestyle he witnessed along the river. When the new landlord took over, the residents were slowly driven off. This "uncommon natural history" is a deeply human story.
David A. James is a Fairbanks-based freelance writer and critic.