B
UT WE’RE SO CLOSE. T h a t ’s
what I thought as the frigid water
knocked me off balance, and I—
along with my 60-pound pack—fell fully
into the McKinley River. Behind me, my
two hiking partners struggled to stay on
their feet as well. My next thought—after
I surfaced, gasping, and began retreating
back to shore—was, Thank god I remem-
bered to close my drybag. In big wilderness,
you ta ke comfor t wherever you ca n get it.
I came to the Alaska Range for a three-
week trek thinking I knew everything
about the wild. Years spent backpacking in
the Northeast and honing my mountain-
eering skills in the Cascades had built up
my confidence. And so far, everything had
gone to plan. I never strayed from my gear
checks, reinforced each morning with the
same ritual: rolling the top of my Sea to
Summit Light weight Dr y Sacks three times
to seal my clothes, sleeping bag, and elec-
tronics in a watertight embrace.
Now, with the impassable McKinleyRiver standing between us and the final
day’s hike to civilization, we were stuck. My
confidence at the outset of our trip now felt
like overconfidence. We were low on food
and exhausted after three weeks of rough,
off-trail hiking. And, with night approach-
ing, we were something even worse: cold
a nd wet.
Huddled on a gravel embankment under
gray skies, surrounded by braids of water,
we regrouped. Thankfully, we’d prepared
our gear for this: We unrolled the sacks
and got out our dry sleeping bags and
slipped on dry parkas, then pulled out dry
maps to f ind a nother way out.
It took us two days to reroute and navi-
gate our way across the river. I emerged a
bit hungry and with a recalibrated sense
of confidence, but also with a valuable new
outlook on adventuring in the wilderness:
Sometimes nature lets the door hit you on
the way out, and the difference between a
good story and a dangerous accident can
MIKE CARINA be as simple as three rolls of a drybag.I wasn’t ready for an emergency—but my gear was. By Ryan WichelnsTHREE ROLLS TO SAFETY
MATERIAL LOVE
Field Test
TRAIL MIX