Malarkey - Stronghold One Mans Quest to Save the Worlds Wild Salmon

T HE M I-8 WAS PACKED beyond all reasonable capacity. Thirty-two passengers, two zodiacs with outboard jet engines, three whitewater rafts, six wall tents, scientific equipment, rods, food, and miscellaneous gear filled the chopper from floor to ceiling. The only way back to civilization was over the Sredinny mountain range, whose peaks rose to more than eleven thousand feet. The pilot tapped his watch to urge one last passenger on board, but Guido Rahr refused. Inside the helicopter the group was getting restless. Their fuel was limited and the weather was shifting. What was the holdup? The men conferred loudly over the thrum of the whirling rotor. What was going on?

In bush flying, its said that if you can get the doors of a helicopter closed, it will fly. The Mi-8 had two powerful turbine engines and was built for the toughest conditions. But with the weight of the gear and a section of heavy oil-drilling pipe, the choppers wheels had sunk into the soft meadow soil and the fuselage was resting on the ground. The battered old helicopter with its oil-streaked hull looked too much like a death trap. Guido turned away from the distressing sight to study the weather. The gathering of low clouds forced his decision. He marched resolutely to the helicopter and squeezed himself in with the others. It would be a tragedy for the group and their invaluable data to perish on the return trip, but what choice did they have? The doors closedbarely. The passengers sat grimly along the sides of the fuselage, trapped by the mountain of gear around them.

Among them were elite fly fishermen and some of Russias and Americas top scientists. Together they had explored one of Russias many untouched salmon rivers on the peninsula of Kamchatka. Somewhere in the chopper sprigs of vegetation and river water floated in tubes and canisters of liquid nitrogen preserved fish scales and fin clippings. Packed away in waterproof bags were notebooks that held sketches and topographical measurements. Together, these gathered bits described an immense ecosystem Americans hadnt known existed. It was an ecosystem based on salmon. If they made it home, the team of scientists could help to change the way people saw salmon and their rivers forever.

The difficulty was in reaching this remote region, and in getting back home again.

Guido settled himself among his companions. Churning at full throttle, the turbine could barely lift them. It groaned and trembled before heaving itself upward, then rose slowly above the forest, sending leaves and branches whirling. The pilot dropped the nose of the chopper and headed south, flying so low over the forest that the branches seemed to brush the bottom of the craft.

They stayed low for a hundred miles, flying over the Kolpakova, Varavskaya, and Kol rivers. Through the windows the passengers could glimpse a vast landscape of forests, rivers, and mountains. The Sea of Okhotsk glittered to the west. To the east were mountain slopes dusted with the first snow of winter. Below were hills blanketed in a gold-and-orange mosaic of stone birch and river valleys marked by still-green bands of cottonwood and alder.

Guido had a view of the cockpit. The pilot was on the left, the navigator on the right, and the mechanic in the middle. It boded well that all three had some gray hair, and likely were veteran Russian pilots who had fought in the Afghan war. The pilot was looking for a break in the peaks. Guido watched his stoic face in half-profile as he decided on a route and headed straight toward the base of the mountain range. As the land began to rise, the pilot held his course. The chopper seemed ready to kiss the earth when the air pressure from the blades meeting the ground pushed it aloft. A few hundred yards later they were heading straight back into the mountain again, this time barely missing a copse of pines.

No one spoke as they stair-stepped up the mountain. Each passenger was sealed in his own isolation. Not all of them could see what was happening, but they could feel it. The chopper was hopping lamely from forest to tundra to snowpack. As they climbed higher, the engines labored in the thinning air.

Guido watched through the cockpit as the volcanic ridge above them approached. The vegetation below had given way to rock, snow, and ice. When they broke through the clouds, Guido got a partial view of two jagged rocky peaks with a slight dip in between, defined by a long ridge of windblown snow. The final precipice rose before them like a wall.