Rafting the Tatshenshini: What I Learned From the Wild Arctic River

When I signed up to raft the Tatshenshini-Alsek, I thought I knew what I was getting into. I’d read the trip reports, watched YouTube videos, and studied route maps. But nothing can prepare you for this river. I was there under the expert guidance of Nahanni River Adventures, who have been guiding on rivers in northern Canada and Alaska since 1972.

The “Tat,” as it’s affectionately known, slices through some of the most unspoiled, raw terrain on the continent—where British Columbia, the Yukon, and Alaska knot together in a mess of ice, rock, and grizzly country. It’s one of the last true wilderness expeditions in North America, devoid of roads, pipelines or other industrial infrastructure.

Long before anyone had invented a drysuit or rubber raft, this river served as a lifeline. In the 1800s, the Tatshenshini was an important trade route for the coastal Tlingit people, who used it to access interior hunting and trading grounds. In 1890, Jack Dalton and Edward Glave became the first Europeans to descend the river, paddling a dugout cottonwood canoe into a world of canyons and ice. By 1897, Dalton had established a trading post near the headwaters, right where the river begins its westward flow. During the Klondike Gold Rush, it was a booming hub, connecting gold-seekers with the coast. Today, the Tatshenshini offers a strikingly uncommon (dare I say pristine) wilderness experience. It is void, for the most part, from any evidence of man and his obsession with developing.

Our 11-day journey began at Dalton Post, between two salmon spawning streams, and finished at Dry Bay, 255 kilometers later, where the river spills into the Gulf of Alaska. No roads, no cell service, no humans outside our group. Just eagles, glacial ice, braided rivers, and bear tracks the size of dinner plates.

A few miles after pushing off from Dalton Post, the Tatshenshini narrows into a deep canyon, and the river wastes no time introducing itself. Continuous Class III rapids (Class IV when water is high) hammer our 18-foot rafts. Our guides deftly navigated the tumultuous waters with grace (and sometimes gritted teeth). The strength required to haul and spontaneously rotate rafts of 4-6 people is incredible. More than once, our casual conversation was interrupted by an unexpected flow of current or sneaky rock pile, requiring quick thinking and even quicker 180 degree rotations of our immensely loaded river raft. It is carrying tents, food for 11 days, all of our supplies, our pop-up outhouse, chairs, gazebos, an entire camp kitchen. And we are perched on top of it, freeloading, at the mercy of the river and our paddle-wielding leaders.

After the initial whitewater, the Tat morphs. It sprawls out, braiding into wide gravel bars and flooded meadows, twisting slowly through the Coast Range. Distances stretch and collapse in strange ways. One minute, a sandbar looks a mile away. The next, we’re stuck on top of it. Currents split and converge at impossible angles. In the murky glacial silt, our rafts would skid to a stop mid-channel without warning. More than once, I stared into the gray-green water wondering how deep we were - three feet? Thirty? We all had quiet confidence in our guide's expertise with a paddle, but the river commands respect.

On a gravel bar on the second night, a fresh grizzly track marked the sand near our kitchen tarp. Our guides were calm, confident, and well versed in bear safety. We adjusted camp accordingly. In Tatshenshini-Alsek Provincial Park, bears are part of the terrain—just like the salmon they fish for, or the willows they push through.

On layover days, we hiked up side valleys, past alpine tarns and meadows glowing with wildflowers. River beauty, pink paintbrush, blue harebells. The weather flipped between sideways rain and crisp bluebird skies. A single clear day felt like a gift. A reward. We felt the land moving all around us. Bear tracks in the mud. Moose droppings near camp. A bald eagle lifting from a spruce. Nothing here is static. Everything is in motion, rhythm. And so are you.

Eventually, the Tatshenshini merges with the Alsek, and the river grows massive, powerful. The volume swells to more than 2,500 cubic meters per second. Then came a lake, formed by the retreating Alsek Glacier, filled with massive icebergs. From camp, they looked big. From the raft, they looked colossal. We drifted slowly between them, silent, reverent. Deep blue veins ran through blocks of sculpted ice. Some held trapped rocks like glacial time capsules. One iceberg had a cave at its base, carved by the water.

We harvested small, clear chunks for cocktails and spent the evening watching ice drift past camp. It was beautiful, eerie, and grounding. Climate change isn’t a theory here—it’s visible and urgent. You see the ice melting right in front of you.

By the time we reached Dry Bay, our voices were quieter. Maybe out of respect. Maybe exhaustion. Maybe both. Only about 500 people a year travel the Tatshenshini-Alsek route, compared to the millions that flood the Grand Canyon. It feels like a secret. An ancient corridor. A gift you must carry gently. In an era where being “green” and investing in eco-tourism is trending, it is hard to decipher good providers from the bad (or even just average). It’s safe to say that Nahanni River Adventures have been practising this ethos, with the environment at the forefront, since their inception. Yes, that means rafting your number two’s for 160 miles down a river in “honey buckets”, but that’s all part of what makes the experience so rewarding.

At the tiny fishing outpost, having travelled from the Yukon, to British Columbia, and now Alaska, we waited for our bush plane in a sort of daze. We hadn’t seen anyone outside our group since day one. Just ourselves, the river, and the rhythm of this place. From above, the pilot pointed out the route we had just traveled - glaciers, canyons, braids of silver water. The river coiled beneath us like a snake heading home. As I often do at the end of trips that change my perception of life on earth, I was overcome by equal parts gratitude and sadness. What a gift it was to experience one of the world’s last wild places, and how sad that so few would be able to see it.

Tatshenshini River Rafting Packing List

Some of the gear I used during the trip was provided by the Nahanni River Adventures team, but a lot of it was mine. If you decide to go on the trip, here's what I'd make sure to have handy.

Dry Bag: At the bare minimum, a dry bag must keep everything inside it dry. Sounds obvious, but you’d be surprised. Not only does the Sea to Summit Big River Dry Bag do this perfectly, it attaches quickly and securely to any strap. Looks sharp too.

Personal floatation device: I wore the Mountain Equipment Company Folcrum PFD during the trip, which I loved for its comfort and affordability. The Canadian company’s vest offers a custom fit for female paddlers, has reflective piping and a front zip pocket. That made it extremely easy to whip out my phone for quick photos.

Rain jacket: You can certainly get away with a rain jacket like the Patagonia Torrentshell on a trip like this, but a more kayak specific jacket is also nice to have. I used the NRS Riptide Splash Jacket. It has waterproof cuffs, which meant that no matter how rough the river get, water never made its way into my coat.

Rain pants: Lightweight rain pants are essential, since splash from the river is inevitable. The Finisterre Rainbirds are my personal favorite, thanks to the balance of protection, breathability, and comfort they offer.

Headwear: I always pack an ultralight stuffable cap like the Buff Pack Light Cap that I can shove into the depth of my dry bag when I don’t need it and bounce right back into shape when I take it out. I would also suggest packing a warm toque to wear for evenings and cooler mornings.

Satellite communication: 11 days is a long time! To stay in touch with loved ones where cell service is spotty, I carry a Garmin Inreach Messenger Plus. I’ve done this since before I became a Garmin ambassador this year, because of its reliable GPS and SOS satellite signal. Even in deep backcountry, it works!

Gloves: Essential for comfort and protection from the cold. The Outdoor Research Deviator Gloves tick three key boxes: insulation without bulk, plus breathability and flexibility.

Midlayer: I bring the Arc’reryx Atom jacket along on almost all my adventures. It’s lightweight, warm, comfy and breathable. It doesn’t hurt that it comes in gorgeous colours.

Baselayer: I’m a big fan of the baselayers from the Icebreaker Merino 200 collection. They’re not too thick, not too thick. But most importantly, they’re not itchy.

Sunglasses: Good polarized sunglasses are very important for dealing with glare from the river. I wear the Smith Westward, but any model you like will do.

Tent: The Nahanni River Adventures team provided each of us a Mountain Hardwear Trango 3 tent to use during the trip. It was super easy to set up and very comfortable to sleep in.

Footwear: On warm days when I knew I’d be jumping in and out of the raft, I wore the Keen Hyperport H2 Sandal. Also brought some comfortable Danner Mountain 600 hiking boots for the off-raft days and a pair of Xtra Tuf 15-inch Legacy Boots for colder mornings where I needed something more waterproof.