By JP Bennett, for the Redoubt Reporter
Photos courtesy of JP Bennett. Lily pads presented a not-too-serious impediment to navigation for Branden Bornemann, of the Kenai Watershed Forum, during a trip down Soldotna Creek recently.
By definition, adventure requires uncertainty and risk, but not every outdoor adventure has to begin with a capital A and end with an exclamation point.
Two weeks ago I tagged along with Branden Bornemann, an environmental specialist for the Kenai Watershed Forum, for a float down Soldotna Creek. The Watershed Forum was under contract with the Alaska Department of Fish and Game to do a preliminary assessment of the stream.
The data Bornemann began to collect will, among other things, be used to help
Bornemann gathering data.
develop a plan to eradicate pike, an introduced species that is wreaking havoc with the native salmon on this tributary of the Kenai River. We planned to launch at Sevena Lake and go to some undetermined point near the Sterling Highway.
Our takeout point was only a temporary uncertainty; it was quickly resolved as we scouted several possibilities en route to the put-in. There were other things we could not be sure of until we set out. Would there be enough water flowing through the creek to render it floatable? Would the creek be choked with obstacles of logs and debris, thereby requiring work with a capital W and an exclamation point to portage the barriers? Would we be able to complete the trip in time for Bornemann to keep an evening rendezvous with a special friend?
Oh, there were some risks, too. We both brought along bear spray and kept it handy throughout the day. This is most definitely an anadromous stream, and where there are spawning salmon, there likely are predators.
OK, maybe there was only that one risk. The creek was so slow-moving that even the easiest Class I rating would overstate the possibility of danger. At most, we expected the water to be thigh deep on either of our 6-foot-plus frames. As our luck would have it, the sun was shining and there was just enough wind to keep pesky flying insects from being annoying.
Arguably, the greatest peril local resource scientists encounter comes from humans. We were aware that not everyone with property bordering the creek would be happy with someone paddling through their backyard collecting data, even if that data would only be used to help preserve wild salmon runs. At least one such property owner had previously used her very best, very bad words informing Watershed Forum employees of her displeasure. Not wishing to test anyone’s resolve, we made sure we ended our float well upstream of that stretch of creek.
Bornemann and I each used packrafts for this expedition. Although small and
Bornemann portages around a logjam.
lightweight, these rafts were designed for the rigors of Alaska wilderness, and we hoped they would be perfect for the anticipated narrow channels of the creek. We put in along the southwest shore of Sevena Lake and paddled through lily pads and sedges to the outlet of the creek. The stream quickly narrowed and we were engulfed in a canyon made of tall grass. From our vantage point right at water level, the horizon was often only a few feet away.
“The day brought me some juvenile joy,” Bornemann said. “Packrafting added to the experience by making it more intimate. It was less about conquering the resource and more about being part of it.”
We were part of it for about five hours as the creek seemed to meander every
Soldotna Creek is well hidden in tall grass.
which way, except toward the takeout. The rafts bounced like bumper cars off the banks as we navigated the skinny channel and its constant tight turns. Along the way, Bornemann scouted for likely places to initiate the testing that would record flow rates. About halfway down, we came across a systemwide beaver dam that he had previously spotted from the air. Bornemann recorded its GPS coordinates, and we were both impressed by the dam’s size. Although it was barely 20 inches high, it was about 100 feet wide. Judging from the abundant green branches placed all about, it was an active construction site.
Some humans are lucky enough to share these worksites with the wildlife.
“Every day, all summer, I get paid to work outside,” Bornemann said. “The research that I get to be part of leads to better resource management decisions. But even when the work is just pushing a shovel, as it was during a revegetation project in Seward, I just like being outdoors.”
We had to get out of the packrafts to cross the beaver dam and were happy to discover that the current had now become visibly quicker. We would no longer have to paddle quite so hard to make progress downstream. Aside from one break to stretch our legs, we only had to get out of the boats two other times to clamber over logjams.
As we came closer to the highway, we could see the occasional cabin and house.
Soldotna Creek float trip route.
But here we were, just a couple of miles from downtown Soldotna, and most of the float had a wilderness feel to it. For a few hours, we had made like Huck Finn and savored our midday idle in the name of science.
Back at the lab, Bornemann shared some of the information he was able to gather after subsequent floats down Soldotna Creek. Using depth information from a gauge set at the intersection of the creek and East Redoubt Avenue, and portable hydrolabs placed in various locations, he was able to determine creek flow and dispersal rates by injecting a benign saline solution into the rivulet at various points.
“If the data we collect sits on the shelf, we never get to see the bigger picture,” he said. “What I find most rewarding about lab and computer work is coming full circle with the data and presenting it in a scientifically sound format to our resource managers so they can make the most properly informed decisions possible.”
The hope is that those decisions will help keep salmon populations healthy and enable us all to enjoy even these lower-case adventures forever.
JP Bennett is a freelance writer living in Soldotna. He can be reached at akjpb@yahoo.com.
