I Went into the Woods: A change of plans

Published 3:30 am Saturday, December 6, 2025

License. Tags. Rifle. Kill kit. Possibles bag with emergency odds and ends. I didn’t pack them in that order, but they were all accounted for and zipped into the side pocket.

Hot tent. Wood stove. Poles. Stakes. Sleeping bag. Ground cloth. Sleeping pad.

The tent and accessories weigh about 7.5 pounds but are bulky so my pack wasn’t busting but was full.

Our plan was to head away from town in my buddy Ryan’s boat, hike into a small network of muskegs, cross a small creek, hit another long network of muskegs, then camp.

The hassle and hot tent would minimize hunting pressure and afford us the opportunity to maximize daylight.

I continued to pack.

Chicken teriyaki. White chicken chili. Biscuits and gravy. Four mandarin oranges. Bag of homemade trail mix–macadamia nuts, pecans, walnuts and dehydrated blueberries. Carrots. Three bars. Coffee. Electrolyte mix. Spoon. Ryan’s got the cooking gear.

It was only a 30-hour trip but it’s always better to bring more food than you count on eating.

The weather looked good but cold Saturday and Sunday morning called for gentle sleet. Extra jacket. Extra hoodie. Puffy jacket. Puffy pants. I checked the bag weight, knowing we’d be covering some brushy ground to reach the river and water crossings are always sketchy. Not light.

The sun was supposed to set at 3:30, so even if we were out until 4 p.m. that would be a lot of time in the tent. I grabbed a book: Henry at Work: Thoreau on Making a Living. Does it get any more cliche than an English teacher taking a book about Thoreau into the woods?

Water bottle. Binoculars. Ammunition. Camera.

The pack was heavy for this time of year when I like to be quiet and nimble, though I will trip and fall without fail (regardless of pack weight) and at least a few times per muskeg my boots create the most human sounding heel suck a deer has ever heard.

There’s no need to rush. Go slow. You’ll have all day. I kept telling myself.

We launched in the pre-dawn glow, bounced across the fussy water, arrived at the small cove, anchored and went ashore. The heavy pack contributed to a cascading sweatfall down by back. It was chilly, but the base layers under my Grundens bibs held the heat and I felt the onset of dehydration before the morning coffee wore off.

We poked slowly through the second growth and split before the first two small muskegs on our way to the creek.

I climbed an oval-shaped knob and sat for a few seconds before disrupting the stillness with a soft calling sequence. I like to bring my camera because I didn’t buy a nice lens to have it sit at home but I don’t always take it out of the waterproof bag.

You brought it, so use it.

I took a few bad shots of the sun piercing the forest canopy then heard a squirrel snap a branch. I casually turned to my right and picked up the distinctive angle of an antler. I shot a photo, lifted my rifle, waited for it to clear the tree, then made the shot. By early afternoon we had decided that the creek was an unnecessarily arduous task and there was no suitable spot for the tent in the stumpy, uneven second growth. We’ll camp at the beach.

Once we got to the beach, we ended up in the boat. Once we ended up in the boat, we ended up heading home. I still read about Thoreau, but it was after pizza and a hot shower.

Jeff Lund is a freelance writer based in Ketchikan. His book, “A Miserable Paradise: Life in Southeast Alaska,” is available in local bookstores and at Amazon.com. “I Went to the Woods” appears once per month in the Outdoors section of the Juneau Empire.