Trying To Find Kroto

From Talkeetna by bush plane to a frozen bog 
under the white gaze of Denali.
“Snow’ll be too soft to land this afternoon,” 
our pilot says. “See you in the morning.”
He points to a wrinkle in the field of snow.
“Kroto Creek.” And then he’s gone.

Check topo map, take compass reading. 
Strap on snowshoes. East to Kroto; 
follow the creekbed north. Smaller drainage 
from the west. Map-check. Drainage
runs the wrong direction. Keep walking. 
Landmarks don’t match map.

Study USGS quad-sheet top to bottom. 
Find a stretch of creek that fits. 
Six miles from where we ought to be. 
No longer lost – we now know 
where we are. But does our pilot?
Will he find us in the morning?

Follow our tracks back to frozen bog
and packs, survival gear, 
honey and granola to feed us 
for at least a day. End of March, dark 
comes early. Night thoughts, taloned, fly. 
The closest road’s a world away.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2009

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Brown Avatar
November 17, 2009 at 5:49 AM
Thank you for starting my week out with some excellent reading Taylor. May this week find you in good health and your pen be overflowing with inspiration. Love, Carol
Gorelick Avatar
November 16, 2009 at 3:49 PM
So, what happened? I assume you were picked up. This is a scarey write..i used to live in Alaska..I admire your courage. BG
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