The cliff of the iconic Boneyard, or Palisades, on the Yukon River, towered to one side of our boat. Every few minutes, a puff of dust began near the top and built into a rolling cloud. Dirt, chunks of rock and debris broke off and plummeted down the high ridge into the river. Deep crevices, shallow cracks, large caverns and layers of permafrost sparkling in the summer sun.
We floated to the riverbank, examining a curved bone-like object protruding from the edge of the bank. An ancient mammoth tusk stuck out of the high cliff. I inspected the earthen wall in front of me. Not only were there large cracks and crevices, but there were small streams from higher openings continually carving paths, washing away the wall unsuspectingly.