WE'RE PULLED OVER on a gravel bank in interior Alaska, peering down a series of Class IV rapids named the Toilet Bowl.
There are five of us in three 30-year-old rafts. No one wants a swirlie. Only one of us, Mary Katherine Fields (everyone calls her MKat), knows how to paddle. She once set a record for successfully kayaking an 80-foot waterfall. The rest of us? Not so much.
Dry bags, rods, fly boxes, a chain saw, and cases of Coors Light are strapped down with bungee cords, zip ties, and fishing netting. We’re the Clampetts on rafts, and we’re making a DIY trip down Lake Creek, a blandly named river in a part of the state often overlooked by most of us in the lower 48.
MKat pops up and down along the bank, scanning for obstacles in the rapids like a gopher on the prairie checking for predators.
We came here for the fishing: for the fat silver salmon, feisty rainbow trout, and rising grayling. The four days of rafting, grizzly bear sightings, and rapids are a perk, or hazard, depending on who you ask. We want a taste of the Alaska you rarely read about in glossy magazines. The throbbing heartbeat of the center of the state that offers incredible hunting and fishing opportunities but is also facing development, invasive species, and climate change.
GLACIERS DRAPE OVER PEAKS AND WIND DOWN THE