The Wolf That Follows

By D.W. Tarvos

Of the many who venture North to Alaska very few ever find reality matches their expectations. The Wolf That Follows is a story of five young men seeking adventure in the North, being mauled by reality, and instead of quitting as most do risk it all to find the their dream. Some find failure, others sheer frustration, and one finds what he was looking for. Despite the rough people, rough work, rough conditions and low pay they regroup to try again. They decide to go all they way, paddling down the Yukon River and into the remote wilderness of Alaska. Feeling prepared and once again optimistic they find mother nature isn't as gentle as they had hoped. In THE LAND they find fear, failure and eventually freedom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.W. Tarvos
• Release date: Mar 24, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370958856

D.W. Tarvos

In 1990 I began my Alaska life by walking over the coastal mountains from British Columbia and hitching a ride on a cargo plane loaded with gold ore to Southeast Alaska. Living in various towns of Alaska I earned enough to get out of town and into the wild. From lowly cannery worker to shipwright, to security guard, to gold miner, to commercial fisherman, to trapper, to carpenter, to owning several businesses( antique dealer, moving business, carver, writer) I've taken on the various jobs and experiences with the intention of eventually writing about them when the time comes. Sometimes for a couple of months, sometimes for a five years at a time. Living off the land involved " learning fast", including how to find and process plants and mushrooms, hunt the unique animals, tan hides by hand, make one's own clothing, and read the weather. I wore out several canoes paddling fifteen thousand plus miles, 5000 on the Yukon and interior Alaska and the rest in Southeast Alaska. In 2004, on my way to the Wild I ran into an unsuspected adventure, soon finding myself living in Australia. After marrying an Australian I returned to Alaska and started living the civilized, sort of, life. Still living in remote Alaska, in the coldest inhabited town in North America with my wife, daughter we spend our time growing a garden, hunting, fishing, speed racing with a small team of sled dogs, and of course writing.

Book preview

The Wolf That Follows

By D.W. Tarvos

Copyright D.W. Tarvos

Smashwords Edition

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Chapter 1

An old, lone raven, sitting in the top of a white spruce tree, watched a large bull moose strolling along the willow covered island toward a large, round, bright orange orb. The raven knew what was inside the orb, he had watched the two creatures the night before. The bull moose slowly, sniffing the air, approached close enough to touch the object. Taking in a good sniff, the moose, disgusted, shook his head and turned away. The noise of the orb continued, a muffled groaning sound mixed with strange snorting. Spotting a woolly willow next to the tent the moose enveloped it with his mouth and stripped the leaves off.

Bear! Sam, there’s bear outside! came the panicked voice of the orange orb.

The raven called a warning to the moose, but the moose ignored him.

Inside the orb a middle aged man with salt and pepper hair wiped the drool from the side of his face, rolled off of the air mattress and onto the cold ground, A bear, you sure!

Kenny, on all fours searching for his pistol, whiter than usual, pointed, It’s right behind the tent. You didn’t hear that tearing noise?

I just woke up when you screamed, Bear! You snore so loud how could I hear anything else anyway.

Kenny found his pistol under Sam’s air mattress, You kept me awake most of the night with your snoring, don’t tell me about snoring. I’m going out Sam, cover me.

That’s my gun, never mind, where’s yours? Where’s my glasses?

The two searched for Sam’s glasses and the other pistol as the moose ripped the leaves off another sapling.

Kenny found Sam’s glasses and handed them to Sam. With the glasses Sam noticed a pistol in front of him, Fuck, it’s right here. Found it, got your gun Kenny. Here you take yours. Sam, with shaking hands, handed Kenny the pistol covered in sand and took his back.

Kenny slowly unzipped the tent door, cautiously peering outside. He could see the faded red canoe sitting in front of the tent, the dirty Yukon River seething by, but no bear. Meanwhile Sam unzipped the back window of the tent and peered through the small opening.

It’s not a bear Kenny, it’s a big old bull moose. Be careful or he’ll do a Starvin’ on you.

With one leg out of the door Kenny stopped, then retreated back inside. I ain’t going out there if I’m going to get stomped. You think he’d stomp on the tent?

Sam twisted his head to the side to get a better view, His nose is like a foot away, he’s just standing there chewing on leaves. I can see what the ripping sound was, he’s been sticking his mouth over the willows and ripping the leaves off.

Like how big is he?

Sam turned back to Kenny, I can’t tell. I can see the side of his rack now. You look.

Sam moved away from the window to let Kenny peer out.

Holy Snahoolies, exclaimed Kenny, that’s a nose! Like he just stuck it up right against the window. I could put my fist in one of those nostrils.

Crouching on his haunches near the door Sam said, He doesn’t seem too concerned. I mean we’ve been in here shuffling around and talking. Let’s just wait and see. I don’t want to go out in case he’s like in a bad mood or something.

Kenny backed to the door of the tent, Good, we can just wait and if he starts pushing the tent in let him have it.

The smell and noise emanating from the tent increased. Irritated, the moose turned and plowed his way through the willows to escape. When the two men in the tent heard the moose crashing through the brush, moving further and further away, they jumped out of the tent door, pistols raised. Kenny straightened up, the sun reflecting off of his bald head, That’s okay. At least that wasn’t a grizzly bear. I swear it was when I heard that ripping sound. I thought we had the green weenie then.

Sam laughed, lowered his pistol, Boy, you sure come up with some shit, green weenie, holy snahoolies. Is that the Catholic coming out, or what?

Or what. I think that moose heard you snoring like a freight train and thought it was a mating call or something.

We’re up anyway. May as well get the fire going and get the day going. I sure hope we find it today, I’m worried we might have passed it already.

Kenny set his pistol onto the seat of the canoe, I like how you gave me the pistol all covered with sand there, buddy old pal, old friend of mine.

Sam shrugged his shoulders, I’d clean that thing first, if I was you. Damn bear could show up. I wanted my gun. I know it. Besides, I didn’t leave mine sitting in a pile of sand.

That moose is probably still laughing at us. We aren’t the ruff and tuff and hard to bluff guys we used to be.

Sam rolled his eyes, We used to be? I don’t think we ever were that ruff and tough. Now we’re just middle aged round and lazy.

Today I get the drivers seat, stated Kenny, yesterday you about hung me on that sweeper. Looking at his watch he added, it’s five ten in the morning! Guess we’ll have a long day to find that slough.

Sam crawled into the tent to find his pistol holster, Good. I’ll just do like you did all yesterday, dip my paddle in the water and pretend like I’m paddling. My arms and back are killing me. A four inch thick mattress isn’t enough. We spent that whole winter laying on a bunch of hand hewn boards with no pad.

After breakfast they packed their canoe and pushed off into the dirty sand laden water of the Yukon River. A couple miles down river the canoe rounded the head of the small island, the stream spread out, and the canoe grated to a stop on the bottom. Kenny grabbed the canoe’s gunnel, put a foot over the side and stood up. Back in the day Sam, we would have floated right over this spot, but we’re a bit heavier nowadays.

Sam stroked his goatee as the current rushed past, Fat is more like it.

Fat and old. The last time we floated this river I had a 30 inch waist, remarked Kenny as he peered about. He removed his cap and swatted at one of the many horseflies that raced around his head, running his other hand over his bald head. He turned, looked at Sam and said, Who knows, I can’t tell, these sidestreams all look the same. The islands all look the same, you know, all the same.

Sam stood up and turned the canoe sideways. I can’t tell either. It all looks the same, it’s been awhile, I don’t know about your memory but mine isn’t exactly exact as it used to be. We have to be close. We can camp like the last fifteen times and go check it out, but man I’m getting tired of lining this canoe around. I say lets just shoot down this one and see, we’re running out of time. We can’t camp and walk around every time.

Kenny agreed, Okay, better we miss it and make it back on time. If I’m late my wife will be pissed. I wait for her but never the other way around.

With a great deal of groaning and cussing they pulled and pushed the canoe over the shallows and hopped back in. The canoe raced down the small sidestream of the Yukon River, bumping rocks here and there. Kenny called to Sam, Hey you know it would be a lot better if you warned me about the rocks and shallow spots before we hit them.

I’m trying, it’s just that I don’t see them till were on them.

It’s okay, I know we’re going to hit something when you start going, Uhhhhh, uhhh. I’ll just go one way or the other, I got a fifty percent chance of missing that way.

Frustrated, Sam protested, I can’t help it. The sun comes off the water and my glasses don’t get dark enough. Can’t see with them, can’t see without them.

After passing through several deep pools they arrived at the mouth of a small clear slough. The water green and calm in contrast to the dirty flowing water of the Yukon. Kenny excitedly jumped out once the stern of the canoe, hit the bank, turned and panned the outlying area, This is it Sam, I know it.

Sam, still sitting in the bow looking at his fingernails, rolled his gray eyes and said, This is the fifth time you've announced this is it Sam! Get in and we’ll go up the slough and see.

Kenny jumped in, This is it, you remember, how many times we sat up there looking for a moose, right there, it’s the place. Over there is where that grizzly sow smacked that black bear sow, over there is where those cubs ran into the willows. Twenty years and it's exactly the same.

Uh-huh, muttered Sam. After an hour of paddling up the clear water slough Sam thought he recognized some of the areas they passed through, but he had thought that several times before in other sloughs only to find he was wrong. False hopes.

Kenny pointed ahead, I know that bunch of trees Sam, you see them, I called that the Three Forks, pull over up there and I’ll run up there and see if that sawhorse is still there. Kenny scrambled up the bank, disappeared for a few minutes, and then hollered excitedly, Yeah! Get up here Sam! This is it, it’s still up here.

Once Sam clawed his way up the riverbank, filling his pockets and shoulder holster full of sand in the process, he saw Kenny sitting on the old sawhorse. There were the three tree stumps with the remains of the sawhorse. Kenny patted the stump under him, Remember, sawing and sawing with that damn bow saw. Towing that sled back to the cabin. Boy that seemed to take forever.

Sam swatted at the mosquitos that were quickly accumulating around his head, I still hate bow saws. That sled hanging up on every possible thing it could hang up on. How far do you think the cabin is from here, a mile?

Kenny jumped up, Lets just walk up there, it isn’t that far, as Red used to tell me. It isn’t that far Golden, he would say to me, five miles later, it isn’t that far. Oh, pointing to Sam’s shoulder holster, and I’d clean that right off if I was you.

Sam looked down at his pistol, seeing the sand and pulled it out of the holster, Shit! I had a hard climb getting up the bank. When he tipped the barrel down sand poured out of it.

Kenny, feeling justified laughed, Hope you don’t see no bear. I wouldn’t want to shoot that if I was you, might blow up in your face.

Sam followed as Kenny rambled on about how he still, even with a chainsaw, never cuts through a knot on a log. Sam laughed to himself, Kenny used to be such a little skinny punk, now he’s a bald, rolly polly, nearsighted, middle aged loser like me. Sam did admit Kenny might have changed physically but he still had the same personality.

Kenny stopped, turned and said, Sam, look at this tree. You know this tree. It’s the one that had the world’s toughest porcupine in it. Man, that thing took so many hits.

Sam looked up the tree and smiled, You know, you’re right. That is the limb there that saved your life. Tells you how slow these trees grow, this limb and this tree don't seem any bigger than twenty years ago. If you hadn’t of grabbed that limb you would have landed right on top of him. Ha, every time you whacked him this shower of quills came down. When he came tumbling down it was a torrent of quills, and he was still alive when he landed. He hit the ground and just casually as you please started walking off. I’m glad I was standing way away because if the porcupine quills weren’t bad enough you lost the axe and it came down, and then you after it.

Kenny interrupted, When I put my hand on that quill it went right through, as soon as I let go of the axe I realized, oh, hell, you might be down there. I felt really bad. And when that limb snapped off and I came loose I thought, Look out Sam! I know this is the tree, I’ll never forget it as long as I live. I can still see the black point of that quill sticking two inches up through the back of my hand. Makes my skin crawl even now. When I grabbed that limb, I think that’s what’s done my shoulder in, why I had to have surgery two years ago. You got to be careful even when you’re young, or when you get our age you pay.

Sam pointed ahead, The cabin will be just down there. He looked at Kenny. Kenny looked back with a worried look. Both had butterflies in their stomachs.

They didn’t notice the cabin until twenty feet away. Both Sam’s and Kenny’s hair stood on end when they realized they were looking right at it. Sam felt a wave of grief run through his body. When Kenny, wide eyed and excited, looked at Sam, Sam had tears in his eyes.

What’s wrong? Kenny asked.

Sam pointed at the cabin, That thing is like the symbol of my youth, like the gravestone of the Sam I used to be. Sam walked over to an old stump sat down.

You going to come and look in? asked Kenny. Sam shook his head. He tried to say no but he couldn’t speak at all. Hundreds of memories raced through Sam’s mind. Kenny looked into the Grizz Window as they used to call it, Hard to believe it’s been over twenty years ago. It sure looks smaller than I remember it. Like I have a closet in my room that is bigger than this cabin. Hanging on a bent nail a foot in front of him hung the enamel pot he cooked so many meals in. He unhooked the pot and pulled it out the window. Sam, look at this, the old blue pot, we ate a lot of meals out of this one pot. How many black bears, how many grouse, how many beaver you think Sam? Kenny turned to see Sam sitting on the stump gray head hanging down.

Every year Kenny called Sam on Thanksgiving to reminisce and laugh about their trials and tribulations of long ago. The trip along the Yukon had been the only adventure in their lives worth mentioning. They joked about the food, their ineptitude, the cold, the bugs and the dumb things they did. In all the conversations they never mentioned what happened at the end. The conversations always ended with a series of long pauses. Both wanting to talk of those last days, but reluctant to go there.

Kenny squatted down next to the cabin and held the pot in his arms. He recalled the smell of bear meat boiling, missed the taste of the oatmeal with cranberries he cooked in the mornings, and especially the smell of sourdough. How many times that pot full of sourdough overflowed and dripped all over the floor. He put his nose into the pot and took a whiff. It smelled of mold. He laughed as he remembered his son calling sourdough pancakes, dad’s breath. To him that sourdough smell always brought a flood of memories, but his son only thought of the smell as the odor of his father’s breath after a few cold ones.

In an effort to cheer Sam up Kenny brought up one of their favorite memories, Remember when we threw our watches in the river?

Sam instinctively looked at his watch, Yeah, we didn’t give a fuck about time or anything else. That was the only time in my life I was really free. The only real freedom. Free from time, worry, money, nagging, even free from constantly worrying about dying. He pulled a prescription bottle from his shirt pocket, Free from these fucking things. Now we are just waiting around, keeping track of every minute, hording shit. Really just waiting to die. Pretty pathetic when you think about it. The best part of my life was like six months. What's life worth if you get six months of real life and seventy or eighty years of lingering around.

For the first time in twenty years Kenny asked Sam, So what do you think happened to Red?

Sam stroked his gray goatee, I wouldn’t be surprised if he jumped out from behind that tree and scared the shit out of us right now, the sneaky bastard.

Kenny stood up, Maybe he starved to death or something after we left.

Sam shook his head, I know he didn’t. He loved it out here. We were here because we wanted to be able to brag about living out here. Be real studs when we got back to civilization. Now I look back and remember all the times I said to someone, I lived in the wild in Alaska," and it seems pathetic I ever thought I could brag about it. Red was out here because it’s where he belonged. For fifteen years after we left I would lay in bed every night for hours replaying what we saw, and did. It's only in the last few years I quit doing that, thinking about it all the time. I guess that comes with growing old, forgetting about life. Once when I was in the Seattle airport I thought I saw him. It scared the shit out of me. I don’t know why. I followed that guy around trying to get the courage up to talk to him, but I couldn't tell for sure if it was him, so I didn't. I mean, if it turned out to be him and he could care less that he saw me again, it would be a hard thing to forget.

You remember Red brought up the choice in life, to live a short glorious life or a regular, safe, long life. At the time I thought I was one of those living the glorious life, but as it turned out, it was for just six months. Then came the long, safe, boring life."

You know I felt bad for a long time after we left. One for giving up, feeling like a real loser and then feeling like I wasn’t a tenth of the man he was. Now, I’m old, I thought I was over that. But right now, I feel it more than ever. Let’s get out of here. I thought this would be great, but I never felt so sad in my life."

Wait, said Kenny, so did you keep your journal, ever look through it and reminisce?

You’re just making it worse. I didn’t. You know what I did with it? I fucking burned it. After all the years he still regretted burning his journal when they left.

Kenny admitted for the first time, So did I. I never did stop thinking about that trip. I wouldn't say it haunts me because it's something I like to do. Every night when I go to bed, every morning before I get out of bed I lie there thinking about. I still cringe and think, what an idiot, when I think of the dumb things I did.

Sam took off his cap, rubbed the top of his head, and caught sight of the raven watching them from across the slough. We sure are the superior creatures aren't we? I wonder how long a raven lives? I wonder if that raven over there is laughing at us. Does he feel sorry for us? He gets more than six months of freedom. Let's get out of here.

Kenny lingered as Sam walked off. He ran his hands over the cabin walls, over the pegs they used to hang the axes and saws, over the hand-hewn board that served as a doorjamb and walked into the narrow doorway. The bears had done their work, tearing everything up. He spotted the leg of his old noggin stool poking up from the refuse on the floor. He attempted to pull it out but the leg broke off. I want that stool. Put that on a shelf in my office to remind me life isn’t just about production numbers. Digging further to free the noggin he pulled up the remains of an old shirt, a marten board, an old butter can, Boy you don’t see butter in a can anymore, until he felt something smooth and round. He felt it had a jagged hole. He put his finger in the hole and jerked it out of the refuse.

When he held it up to the light he realized what it was, flung the thing back onto the floor and commenced backing out. Then he saw Sam standing in the doorway.

You see that? asked Kenny trembling, the hair on the back of his neck standing up and his whole back tingling.

Sam nodded.

You see it had a hole blown in the back of it?

Sam nodded again, Like someone blew their brains out. I saw. Let’s get out of here now!

Kenny staggered backwards, I wish I never found that. Sam walked away back toward the river. When Kenny thought Sam was far enough away he called out, Horsemen pass bye!

The raven watched the two humans walk away through the stunted black and white spruce. He recognized both of them. The one with the gray eyes had shot at him once, when he was still flying with his parents. He was happy to see them leaving, again. This was no place for such creatures.

Chapter 2

The white deck of the Matanuska was crowded with tents, most of the people hiding inside peering out of the windows. The wind blew the rain across the deck in waves, several tents shuffling around on the metal deck. Five young men sat huddled together smoking cigarettes under the awning, watching the rain and trying to impress each other that they weren’t cold, though at times their teeth chattered. They, like many of the others on the big, blue state ferry, had come for the big adventure, Alaska! Though they had no idea what to expect they felt they could handle anything. Each was apprehensive, and despite the underlying feelings, tried to appear calm, confident and knowledgeable. They played a game of trying to sound knowledgeable by reciting what they had read, while on the other hand trying to avoid subjects that might reveal their ignorance.

Kenny, with his blonde hair radiating out several inches in all directions from under his baseball cap determined Petersburg was the ideal place to live and work for the summer. Marvin held a ticket to Sitka, but the route was through Petersburg, so he could, if he liked jump ship with Kenny, Sam and Red at Petersburg. Adam, small and considerably more extraverted than the rest, had a job lined up in Skagway at a tourist shop, but was holding the option to join the other four when they arrived in Petersburg.

The loud speaker announced a whale on the starboard side a quarter mile out. Masses of