Friday, August 18, 2006
Thursday, August 17, 2006
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
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 filletsThe 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
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
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.
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.
Karen hard at work filleting her catch
Finally I grasp the 'butterfly fillet' technique. It's a proud moment.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
'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.
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.
Friday, August 04, 2006
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.
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.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Beryl Bender Birch
Talkeetna Lodge, Talkeetna
For a serious yogi, Beryl is warm, funny, and deeply human. Thank god. Back at her Long Island (New York) home she has a team of sled dogs and a passion for mushing. Beryl is largely responsible for the popularity of Astanga yoga in the USA - having brought it to the New York running club by calling it 'Power Yoga'. She has outstanding charisma.
For five days we stretched ourselves. Morning meditation at 7am, a light breakfast, then two sessions back-to-back of yoga. We took turns practicing and giving adjustments, or watching Beryl (the master) give adjustments. After lunch there was a discussion session on a variety of teaching-related subjects.
For a serious yogi, Beryl is warm, funny, and deeply human. Thank god. Back at her Long Island (New York) home she has a team of sled dogs and a passion for mushing. Beryl is largely responsible for the popularity of Astanga yoga in the USA - having brought it to the New York running club by calling it 'Power Yoga'. She has outstanding charisma.
For five days we stretched ourselves. Morning meditation at 7am, a light breakfast, then two sessions back-to-back of yoga. We took turns practicing and giving adjustments, or watching Beryl (the master) give adjustments. After lunch there was a discussion session on a variety of teaching-related subjects.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Wholewheat Radio House Concert
Wholewheat Radio Headquarters, East Talkeetna
On the Friday of the yoga intensive, we had fun. I herded two young mums, who were away from their babies for the longest time since conception, off to three separate and wonderful gigs in little Talkeetna town. The first gig was a 'house concert' I'd heared about on the local grapevine. We arrived at the address to find a small cabin, full of people on fold-out chairs, a stage set-up, and a concert about to begin. A woman with a microphone up-front called out to us, 'Welcome! Make yourselves at home you three, there's beer in the fridge and some seats up the front here, and there's even a bed up here if you want to get really comfortable!' What a welcome. I was instantly sold on the house concert idea.
We got a beer from the fridge and squeezed our way to the bed, through the opening chords of the first of the three musicians, who took turns playing their songs, and occassionaly accompanying one another throughout the gig. Sitting right up front and cosy, I was amazed at our luck in stumbling across this community event that had brought muscicains from around America. The gig was being broadcast across the world, by way of direct streaming onto the internet www.wholwheatradio.com. Later, when I became friends with Ester and Jim, the creators of wholewheat, I learned what it was all about.
The creators of Wholewheat Radio - Ester and Jim. Quirky, warm, and creative. As all good people should be.
On the Friday of the yoga intensive, we had fun. I herded two young mums, who were away from their babies for the longest time since conception, off to three separate and wonderful gigs in little Talkeetna town. The first gig was a 'house concert' I'd heared about on the local grapevine. We arrived at the address to find a small cabin, full of people on fold-out chairs, a stage set-up, and a concert about to begin. A woman with a microphone up-front called out to us, 'Welcome! Make yourselves at home you three, there's beer in the fridge and some seats up the front here, and there's even a bed up here if you want to get really comfortable!' What a welcome. I was instantly sold on the house concert idea.
We got a beer from the fridge and squeezed our way to the bed, through the opening chords of the first of the three musicians, who took turns playing their songs, and occassionaly accompanying one another throughout the gig. Sitting right up front and cosy, I was amazed at our luck in stumbling across this community event that had brought muscicains from around America. The gig was being broadcast across the world, by way of direct streaming onto the internet www.wholwheatradio.com. Later, when I became friends with Ester and Jim, the creators of wholewheat, I learned what it was all about.
The creators of Wholewheat Radio - Ester and Jim. Quirky, warm, and creative. As all good people should be.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Left Juneau
Moon Lake, Past Tok, Road to Fairbanks, AK
I left Juneau. I went to Haines. I commenced the Roadtrip to Talkeetna with Melina. I went into Canada for the first time ever.
I'm anxious but relaxing.
The scenery...Boom. Changed utterly. No more magic inner passage. We're inland. Forest. Flat. Feels like I am in America all of a sudden. I have faint memories of Yellowstone National Park as a five year-old. There is a smell in the woods here that reminds me of Interlochen in Michigan, some plant here that was not in the woods of the Southeast of Alaska.
I am happy and excited on the first day of new travels. Hank Williams is keeping us company in the vulgar sound system of Melina's little red stationwagon.
Fresh dry air. Warm days. More like the dryness of home. I think I could stay here a lot longer.
The photogenic moose
I left Juneau. I went to Haines. I commenced the Roadtrip to Talkeetna with Melina. I went into Canada for the first time ever. I'm anxious but relaxing.
The scenery...Boom. Changed utterly. No more magic inner passage. We're inland. Forest. Flat. Feels like I am in America all of a sudden. I have faint memories of Yellowstone National Park as a five year-old. There is a smell in the woods here that reminds me of Interlochen in Michigan, some plant here that was not in the woods of the Southeast of Alaska. I am happy and excited on the first day of new travels. Hank Williams is keeping us company in the vulgar sound system of Melina's little red stationwagon.
Fresh dry air. Warm days. More like the dryness of home. I think I could stay here a lot longer.
The photogenic moose
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Strange Noises and No Water (Day 6)
Harbour Island. 1pm
We have run out of stream water, and on this island there is none. We spend the morning paddling to the mainland for a stream but find none. Setting out again to find water, I take note of the beached icebergs and think: 'There's fresh water!' We hack off some iceberg, strap it to the kayak and paddle back to the island, where I notice there are three icebergs that have been sitting on the beach there all along! I melt the iceberg in my stove, in novel necessity, and we make porridge and enjoy the glacial grit in our mouths.
Waiting for Adventure Bound, 3:30pm pickup. Strange noises come in this harbour, whales bellow in the distance. We're just past slack low tide, Sand Spit is fully exposed. I keep looking to the horizon where the boat will appear in two hours.
I take a photo of my face, foreign to me now after days without reflection, and covered in grime. Hi me. We'll get you cleaned-up soon enough.
We have run out of stream water, and on this island there is none. We spend the morning paddling to the mainland for a stream but find none. Setting out again to find water, I take note of the beached icebergs and think: 'There's fresh water!' We hack off some iceberg, strap it to the kayak and paddle back to the island, where I notice there are three icebergs that have been sitting on the beach there all along! I melt the iceberg in my stove, in novel necessity, and we make porridge and enjoy the glacial grit in our mouths. Waiting for Adventure Bound, 3:30pm pickup. Strange noises come in this harbour, whales bellow in the distance. We're just past slack low tide, Sand Spit is fully exposed. I keep looking to the horizon where the boat will appear in two hours.
I take a photo of my face, foreign to me now after days without reflection, and covered in grime. Hi me. We'll get you cleaned-up soon enough.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Day 4 Waiting for the Tides to Turn and Day 5 a Day of Whales
Day 4
I got a little drunk on red wine, whisky, and a luscious beef stroganoff rehydrated out-of-a-bag. I was drinking from the verves of exiting Ford's Terror. A day of waiting for the tides to change. In the end, two motor boats pushed through, and we charged it, rushed it. We got caught in some standing waves, then Trahern stopped paddling, just when I was really scared - the spare paddle had caught in the waves and pulled underwater, still strapped down to the bow's bungie cords, so that it acted as a front rudder, further complicating the boat's direction in the swirling currents of almost full-tide. It was an exciting moment that made me feel more of a man afterwards.
Highlights of the day were paddling with moon-eyed seals near the jaws of terror, and observing the tidal shifts - how amazing this is. As Trahern put it, 'It is crazy to think that something as little as two kayakers going through a narrow gully in a fiord in Alaska, all depends on the motions of far-off orbiting planets. We imagined a world without tides. The extinction of all inter-tidal life? All fish even? Fishermen? I wondered, would women menstruate if there was no moon?
We camped on Day 4 in the cove opposite the Ford's Terror opening, on the other side of Endicott Arm. I drank and talked a lot. Relieved.
Day 5: Cove of an unnamed island southeast of Harbour Island at the mouth of Endicott Arm
Not so tired! A warm campfire at this gorgeous final capsite overlooking Sundum Glacier that now glows faintly blue, a mostache of cloud sitting along top of the saddle.
Whales. Whales making me nervous through sheer mass, and that rushing feeling of the possibility that that intelligent mass is underneath our little boat. Orca whales, and great big whooshing, groaning, feeding humpback whales. Whales going past, turning around to come back and take a look at us, and Trahern saying, 'Now the humpback will attempt to mate with the lovely yellow whale'. 'It better bloody not', I say.
A day of paddling back to the starting point, a conservative move to be here for our 3:30pm pickup tomorrow.
My favorite view is along the sharp rock edge that glanses up to forest covered mystery - within the tree canopy. I've hardly ventured within the tree canopy as I fear bears. A healthy fear I do believe. I'm an animal out of my territory, and it is only natural to be respectful of the other animals' territory as I pass through. Only natural instict to be wary and fearful. On this island tonight I scouted around more than all other days of this trip, made brave by the assumption that an island is bear-free. There are no signs of bear here.
I have though of Paris today, of a suave little black dress, hairless legs, cute little black shoes, silver earings, and wine tasting with my family. Then I brought my mind back onto the water, the paddle, the light right now. I have started to look beyond this trip, it must be near its close.
Tomorrow we go back to town and creature comforts. This has been a quiet trip of not much talk. Observing, just being here. The days have evaporated away as the tides have come in and out. I woke last night to the lapping sound of high tide around the tent. Unzipping the fly and looking out I found the water less than two feet away. Looking at my watch I found us two minutes from high tide. 'She'll be right', I said to myself, and I knew for a fact, that she be alright, and I drifted back to sleep satisfied.
If I have learnt one thing this trip it has been an awareness for the tides. I am pleased with this new understanding of the ebb and flow, that has eluded me until now. I have also gained time on the water. Ever-changing palatte of colors and motions, the water. Yesterday evening we crossed the Arm from Ford's Terror to the other side. The water was choppy, with white-caps forming. I was strained - fearing, as always, capsizing. But we ploughed on, and we made our distance. I remarked how vulnerable one is on the water. In a second the wind could stir up, and in the middle of a crossing like that, there's nothing you could do.
But really, compared to a month ago I am now an experienced paddler, leading a week-long 2-person exidition in remote Alaskan waters, making crossings at 8pm that I would not have considered a month ago. And yes, I feel this confidence is an accomplishment I am happy to have gained. Each trip I do enables the next adventure through experience gained.
I am looking forward to going back to the comforts and communication all the same. The trip has been wonderful, as will be returning.
I got a little drunk on red wine, whisky, and a luscious beef stroganoff rehydrated out-of-a-bag. I was drinking from the verves of exiting Ford's Terror. A day of waiting for the tides to change. In the end, two motor boats pushed through, and we charged it, rushed it. We got caught in some standing waves, then Trahern stopped paddling, just when I was really scared - the spare paddle had caught in the waves and pulled underwater, still strapped down to the bow's bungie cords, so that it acted as a front rudder, further complicating the boat's direction in the swirling currents of almost full-tide. It was an exciting moment that made me feel more of a man afterwards.
Highlights of the day were paddling with moon-eyed seals near the jaws of terror, and observing the tidal shifts - how amazing this is. As Trahern put it, 'It is crazy to think that something as little as two kayakers going through a narrow gully in a fiord in Alaska, all depends on the motions of far-off orbiting planets. We imagined a world without tides. The extinction of all inter-tidal life? All fish even? Fishermen? I wondered, would women menstruate if there was no moon?
We camped on Day 4 in the cove opposite the Ford's Terror opening, on the other side of Endicott Arm. I drank and talked a lot. Relieved.
Day 5: Cove of an unnamed island southeast of Harbour Island at the mouth of Endicott Arm
Not so tired! A warm campfire at this gorgeous final capsite overlooking Sundum Glacier that now glows faintly blue, a mostache of cloud sitting along top of the saddle.
Whales. Whales making me nervous through sheer mass, and that rushing feeling of the possibility that that intelligent mass is underneath our little boat. Orca whales, and great big whooshing, groaning, feeding humpback whales. Whales going past, turning around to come back and take a look at us, and Trahern saying, 'Now the humpback will attempt to mate with the lovely yellow whale'. 'It better bloody not', I say.
A day of paddling back to the starting point, a conservative move to be here for our 3:30pm pickup tomorrow.
My favorite view is along the sharp rock edge that glanses up to forest covered mystery - within the tree canopy. I've hardly ventured within the tree canopy as I fear bears. A healthy fear I do believe. I'm an animal out of my territory, and it is only natural to be respectful of the other animals' territory as I pass through. Only natural instict to be wary and fearful. On this island tonight I scouted around more than all other days of this trip, made brave by the assumption that an island is bear-free. There are no signs of bear here.
I have though of Paris today, of a suave little black dress, hairless legs, cute little black shoes, silver earings, and wine tasting with my family. Then I brought my mind back onto the water, the paddle, the light right now. I have started to look beyond this trip, it must be near its close.
Tomorrow we go back to town and creature comforts. This has been a quiet trip of not much talk. Observing, just being here. The days have evaporated away as the tides have come in and out. I woke last night to the lapping sound of high tide around the tent. Unzipping the fly and looking out I found the water less than two feet away. Looking at my watch I found us two minutes from high tide. 'She'll be right', I said to myself, and I knew for a fact, that she be alright, and I drifted back to sleep satisfied.
If I have learnt one thing this trip it has been an awareness for the tides. I am pleased with this new understanding of the ebb and flow, that has eluded me until now. I have also gained time on the water. Ever-changing palatte of colors and motions, the water. Yesterday evening we crossed the Arm from Ford's Terror to the other side. The water was choppy, with white-caps forming. I was strained - fearing, as always, capsizing. But we ploughed on, and we made our distance. I remarked how vulnerable one is on the water. In a second the wind could stir up, and in the middle of a crossing like that, there's nothing you could do.
But really, compared to a month ago I am now an experienced paddler, leading a week-long 2-person exidition in remote Alaskan waters, making crossings at 8pm that I would not have considered a month ago. And yes, I feel this confidence is an accomplishment I am happy to have gained. Each trip I do enables the next adventure through experience gained.
I am looking forward to going back to the comforts and communication all the same. The trip has been wonderful, as will be returning.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Inside Terror (Day 3)
Ford's Terror, Eastern End
Tired. Bug-eaten. A beauriful evening after a day of tides. Watching tides change, conditions dramatically alter. A river's direction changed before our eyes at the mouth of Terror. It was something to see.
Highlights?
A black bear and two cubs doin' their thing in a little cove. The mother barks at the cubs and they retreat as our kayak draws too close.
The gates of Ford's Terror - rapids unbelieveable at low tide, then the amazing two hour watch of the turn of the tides, and riding the incoming through the mouth.
Finding the river of tidal zone beyond our destination capsite here, like the secret garden opening up into another stretch of gorgeous country, more lovely, with colours more vibrant than the dramatic cliffs of Ford's Terror.
Thoughts of lots of things, but much wonderful present too. Not much talk.
Tired.
Loving it.
Tired. Bug-eaten. A beauriful evening after a day of tides. Watching tides change, conditions dramatically alter. A river's direction changed before our eyes at the mouth of Terror. It was something to see.
Highlights?
A black bear and two cubs doin' their thing in a little cove. The mother barks at the cubs and they retreat as our kayak draws too close.
The gates of Ford's Terror - rapids unbelieveable at low tide, then the amazing two hour watch of the turn of the tides, and riding the incoming through the mouth.
Finding the river of tidal zone beyond our destination capsite here, like the secret garden opening up into another stretch of gorgeous country, more lovely, with colours more vibrant than the dramatic cliffs of Ford's Terror.
Thoughts of lots of things, but much wonderful present too. Not much talk.
Tired.
Loving it.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Why Are We Here (Day 2)
Cabin Remains, Endicott Arm, 5km from the entrance to Ford's Terror
A long day of beauty, rain, coping, and loving it. A whale saved our skins at lunchtime by breaching. The noise brought us out of the woods where we huddled under the dripping canopy with hot soup and no conversation. We marveled at the whale's cavorting, and then I saw the boat bobbing, bob bob. The tide was rapidly incoming, as stated by the 'rule of twelths'. The rule states that in the 6 hours between high and low tides, one twelth of the volume moves in the first and last hours, two twelths moves in the second and fifth hours, and three twelths moves in the middle two hours. That means half of the whole tidal distance is covered in those two middle hours, which corresponded with lunchtime for us. With 17 foot tides, it's a fast tide.
In the steep-sided fiord, there is little flat space to lay our heads to rest, so we stretched-out our day of paddling to get here tonight, a ruined cabin that is marked on the map (published 1962) with a small triangle, 'cabin'. I was graced by one more perfect whale siteing, as I watched the blue-silver light on the water, with icebergs glistening, Trahern(exhausted) already in bed, and me giving a little prayer of thanks - then the whale - a slick kiss of a rise, and gone. I laughed at the magic. Kiss Kiss.
A long day of beauty, rain, coping, and loving it. A whale saved our skins at lunchtime by breaching. The noise brought us out of the woods where we huddled under the dripping canopy with hot soup and no conversation. We marveled at the whale's cavorting, and then I saw the boat bobbing, bob bob. The tide was rapidly incoming, as stated by the 'rule of twelths'. The rule states that in the 6 hours between high and low tides, one twelth of the volume moves in the first and last hours, two twelths moves in the second and fifth hours, and three twelths moves in the middle two hours. That means half of the whole tidal distance is covered in those two middle hours, which corresponded with lunchtime for us. With 17 foot tides, it's a fast tide.
In the steep-sided fiord, there is little flat space to lay our heads to rest, so we stretched-out our day of paddling to get here tonight, a ruined cabin that is marked on the map (published 1962) with a small triangle, 'cabin'. I was graced by one more perfect whale siteing, as I watched the blue-silver light on the water, with icebergs glistening, Trahern(exhausted) already in bed, and me giving a little prayer of thanks - then the whale - a slick kiss of a rise, and gone. I laughed at the magic. Kiss Kiss.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
FORD'S TERROR - Day 1
The mouth of Endicott Arm, Just shy of the Sumdum Glacier-Runoff Creek
I'm cosy. It's raining and I'm in a tent, dry and warm. Outside is a mass fo water, Endicott Arm. Nehind me is a forest with mears. Approzimately 100 yards to my left, hanging from a tree, is a bag of our food. The other food lies at the bottom of the tree in two bear containers. It's all arranged. Day 1 of the Endicott Arm Expidition has come to a lobely close for me, and I think we've done pretty well for first-time kayak expeditioners in bear country. My conversation tonight has focused on bears, but I can't help it. After three months in Alaska, this is my first night camping in the wilds. YeeHaw.
Highlights of the day include the gorgeous blue South Sawyer Glacier - small calving making enormous thundering crashes into the ocean below. I say small calving, but it is dwarfed by the surrounding 700 foot mountains.
Sweet-faced seals peeping a look at our boat.
My irritation of the other passengers aboard Adventure Bound.
The halarious moment as our kayak pushed off from the mother-vessel, to the command of the grumpy captain Steve - 'Be here at 3:30 on Monday. Don't mess with the tides in Ford's Terror in a boat like that. High Slack is OK, and two hours after low...' And the side of the ship was jammed with American bodies, camera lenses pressed to their faces, as I encountered a reverse-moment of how the black bear munching on mussels earlier that day might have felt - an item at the zoo. Click Click.
I think, after all the planning, every moment of this trip could be joy. I'm looking forward to a trip routine establishing so I no longer need to think through eachy logistic, and can relaz into enjoying simply being here.
Thanks be to me being here. What an amazing place.
I'm cosy. It's raining and I'm in a tent, dry and warm. Outside is a mass fo water, Endicott Arm. Nehind me is a forest with mears. Approzimately 100 yards to my left, hanging from a tree, is a bag of our food. The other food lies at the bottom of the tree in two bear containers. It's all arranged. Day 1 of the Endicott Arm Expidition has come to a lobely close for me, and I think we've done pretty well for first-time kayak expeditioners in bear country. My conversation tonight has focused on bears, but I can't help it. After three months in Alaska, this is my first night camping in the wilds. YeeHaw.
Highlights of the day include the gorgeous blue South Sawyer Glacier - small calving making enormous thundering crashes into the ocean below. I say small calving, but it is dwarfed by the surrounding 700 foot mountains.
Sweet-faced seals peeping a look at our boat.
My irritation of the other passengers aboard Adventure Bound.
The halarious moment as our kayak pushed off from the mother-vessel, to the command of the grumpy captain Steve - 'Be here at 3:30 on Monday. Don't mess with the tides in Ford's Terror in a boat like that. High Slack is OK, and two hours after low...' And the side of the ship was jammed with American bodies, camera lenses pressed to their faces, as I encountered a reverse-moment of how the black bear munching on mussels earlier that day might have felt - an item at the zoo. Click Click.
I think, after all the planning, every moment of this trip could be joy. I'm looking forward to a trip routine establishing so I no longer need to think through eachy logistic, and can relaz into enjoying simply being here.
Thanks be to me being here. What an amazing place.
