Digital Umbilical

Anchorage

In the bustle and hum of travel - jumping from one car to another, yoga camp to hiking to fiddle camp to fishing trip, I lost my digital umbilical - the cords and wiring and dressings for my wonderful little camera. For days I languished in denial, making phone calls to all the places I'd last been, but it is now two weeks on, and I must admit that I left a bag of important items in a bear box adjacent to the Polar Bear Tent Campsite at Fiddle Camp. Sure, I'd stayed up until 8am on the last night of camp singing old country songs and drinking Guinness and Mike's Hard Lemonade (why oh why the lemonade?) and smoking the best cigarette of my life (and one of the only I assure you mum and dad), and it appears that such a good time (what a bloody good time) could only be had at a cost. The cost was not only being too hung-over the next day to remember all my belongings as I left the Scout Camp grounds, and losing my digital umbilical, but I also paid for the night with that familiar near-death nausea and frequent emergency stops on my eight hour drive into the Alaskan wilderness with a new, bemused friend Brendan at the wheel. One hour into the drive found me lying on a pallet by the roadside, groaning. After two hours I woke from a disturbed nap to ring my mother at a roadside stop and tell her I'd just had the most wonderful week at fiddle camp and that I was heading into the wilderness again on a fishing expedition with a new friend I didn't know very well but probably would by the end of the trip, especially if I spewed on the floor of his new car. Lucky for me, the car was already dubbed 'the barn' due to its box-shape and already-doggy smell. This car was sold to Brendan on the fact that it can be hosed out. That was great news to me also. I told mum I didn't know where I was - I had just woken up - but there was, curiously enough, a Canadian flag flying. Not reassuring words to a mother I am sure, but she took it well and reminded me to warn Brendan of the 3 second rule, which in our family, is known as the amount of time it takes between me warning the driver that I need to spew, and the actual spewing. Those were sage words of my mother's because before too long Brendan was putting into practice the 3-second rule, and the barn did not need to be hosed down at any point in the journey.

I had the most scenic spew of my life that day, looking out across mountains, a river, color, twin eagles diving above. Brendan was understanding, and after eight hours of driving we finally made it to Kenticott, and Karen and Mike's newly wed cabin. The point I wanted to make by this long-winded story is that the blog has been very slow, and there have been no new photos in the last weeks because I cannot upload them onto the computer until I get the replacement technology. This will arrive next week, FexEx to Talkeetna. Needless to say I've been having a ball and there is loads to tell. Stay tuned.

Dipnetting - The Smoking

Brendan's Cabin, The outskirts of Talkeetna

For two days during torrential rain in which the Susitna River in the township of Talkeetna overflows and residents are evacuated from their homes, we smoke fish.

Brendan cuts Alder branches and burns them down to coals

The coals are placed under the salmon fillets that have soaked in a brine overnight, and rest on racks in the light wooden smoker house. This is cold smoking, a technique that is slower than hot smoking (where the fire would be built directly under the meat), but produces a more succulent result without the drying of the heat.

The Simpletones - a local Talkeetnan band

The Fairview (historical) Pub, Talkeetna

Dipnetting - The Process

Brendan's Mum's House, Anchorage

The production line - we separate the fillets from 30 red salmon into piles of three different quality levels: best for freezing and eating as straight fillets, mid-quality for smoking, and lowest quality for preserving in jars.



Skinning the fillets


The domestic-use vacuum-packer has dramatically changed the way Alaskans can preserve food for the winter. This nifty gadget allows fish fillets to be frozen and kept for up to eight months.


Mike vacuum seals his fillets

Dipnetting - The Catch

The Copper River, McCarthy (8 hour drive from Anchorage)

Each 'permanant resident' Alaskan not only get paid each year to live in Alaska (this year each Alaskan will get $1,300US of the 'permanant fund' that comes from oil money), they also get a quota of natural produce to harvest that will last them through the winter, if they should be that way inclined. If you want to be eating Red Salmon in mid-December, you are entitled to take 15 each year, or 30 if you have more than just yourself in your household to feed, by the relatively easy technique of dipnetting - a process that is reserved solely for Alaskan permanant residents. Here follows incriminating photos of me helping out.

10-foot long dipnets - just put it in there and let the salmon swim right in.

The state of the salmon varied as some were further along in the process of dying, that begins as soon as they enter the fresh water of the river from the salty ocean, and ends soon after spawning and the laying of eggs. All meat was acceptable for consumption and mostly we took what fate put in our nets.

Take the fish out, bludgeon it with 'the whumper' (the stick), and string it on the cord with the other catch to go back into the river until we're ready for filleting.

The catch. We took our quota of 46 red salmon in four hours of fishing. Luck was with us on this day because many folks had come in the weeks preceeding our visit to the copper to be disappointed and unable to get their quota. For all salmon species this year, the runs were late - salmon returning to the rivers later than predicted. Further South, in the Kenai Peninsula, the Department of Fish and Game had closed the season before the Reds had returned in numbers that allowed locals to get their quotas. We were lucky.

Dipnetting - The Clean

The Copper River, McCarthy (8 hour drive from Anchorage)


Karen hard at work filleting her catch


Finally I grasp the 'butterfly fillet' technique. It's a proud moment.

'It be in G"

Carlquist Boy Scout Camp, Chugiak (30 miles North of Anchorage)



The Stuart Brothers Trevor (on the right) and Travis. These identical twins fresh from Ashville, North Carolina, brought me endless joy for the week of fiddle camp. Here they teach us 'Booger Man' - a hammer and tongs tune in G.

Denali Backcountry Hiking

Four day hiking trip into Unit 28, Denali National Park


Setting off on our hike, ready to ford Teklanika River and do some heavy bush-bashing through the bear-infested woods.


Although park rules stated: No Guns, Damion felt unable to go into the woods without his pistol. I had left him at the car earlier to make his decision, after lecturing him on the benefits of feeling vulnerable now and then. A few minutes into the walk I looked over to see his gun sticking out of his pack. I had mixed feelings about it, but can appreciate that people who know how to use guns and are accustomed to hunting with them would find the idea of leaving home without one idiotic. All park rangers are trained to use and carry firearms at all times - in Alaska it is believed to be common sense to carry a gun as self-defense against bears, with the footnote; 'but it should not be an excuse for irresponsible behaviour in respect to bear awareness and safety'.


On this trip I was once more faced with dehydrated food. I am growing accustomed to it, but scrambled eggs is going too far if you ask me. I stick to porridge.




Luckily nature provided bountiful snacks along the way.