June 26: Scratching

This is just a place holder note to make sure friends and family all know we're all OK and doing fine. Fishing isn't heavy yet in terms of poundage, but it is in terms of time required. That's what people mean by "scratch fishing." We're fishing around the clock and between that and a surprise Seattle project... well, we always say that sleep is for sissies. I should have time to catch up tomorrow. The big news is: David brought the New Boat home today!! Photos and explanations to follow.

June 24: The phase of short posts has begun

ADFG told us this morning at 9 that 101,000 salmon made it up the river yesterday for a cumulative escapement of 140,000 so far, when they would typically have 26,000 by this time.

We've entered the steep part of the season.

We had a fishing period this morning starting at 10 am, till 5 pm (though we ran out of water about an hour earlier).

At 3 pm today, just before we picked up the nets, we heard and announcement telling us that 195,000 sockeye had made it up the river so far (well ahead of the projected 42,500 typically seen by this date). So we'll go again tonight from 11 pm to 8 am, and then again from 10:30 am to 6 pm.

The setnets opened ahead of the drift fleet this morning (we opened at 10; they opened at 11). We did pretty darned well for this time in the season - something over 5000 lbs, we think. I believe the fish went by before the drifters had a chance at them.

I do feel for them - one of the big reasons I'm glad I setnet instead of drift is the anxiety and second guessing that I know would come from trying to figure out where to put the net. On the other hand, they are free to move with the fish. And their day will come.

Time for a nap between openers.

June 23: The waiting may be over soon

We got news today that the escapement is building. Yesterday it was almost 13,000 up the Naknek. This morning that had increased to 48,000 and by this afternoon it has increased more to almost 75,000 sockeye. Today’s informational announcement said that if the passage rates continue to increase, we may open tomorrow at 10 AM. They’ll let us know tomorrow morning at 9. Jake sat by the bluff this evening, counting jumpers.

This is the time of the season that we all wait for, me with a mixture of excitement, hope, and anxiety.

So most of the day was spent working on projects. The old, disused outhouse was dismantled and some parts of it were repurposed to build a structure for our fourth composting toilet. They don’t smell bad, but it still seems right for them to be outside the cabins. The first step was to dismantle the old one - here are Jake, Rohan, and Roger seeing to that task.

The next task is to somehow detox the old hole. Without going into a lot of detail, let's just say that fire is a purifying force. The crew was standing by with ... well, they started to stand by with fire extinguishers, but it looks like we need to get them all recharged, so they had tubs of water. But there was no need. Jake absented himself from the actual lighting of the match, having had a bad experience with fire here his very first week. He did carefully tend the fire until it died down.

Then they built the new structure next to the bunkhouse, facing out to the lake. Here is the crew, raising the roof, Naknek beach style. Now each building has its own toilet.

It isn't completely finished yet. It needs to be painted and the venting may still need to be hooked up - oh! and it needs a door and a wall, but overall, it's looking pretty good. The next steps may need to wait till much later in the season because we have started fishing in earnest. But more on that in the next post.

June 22: Who is calling at 4 in the morning on Sarah's Birthday?

As the phone woke me up, I was thinking, "It's 4 in the morning, I don't need to answer that." And as the sleep left my head, my thinking revised to, "It's 4 in the morning, and the phone is ringing! Something is wrong and I'd better find out what." Sage apparently wanted to find out what was wrong too, because she got up with me. It looked like she just needed to go out, so I opened the cabin door and the porch door... and she shot out, surprising me and the two young bears that had settled into my garbage, about 15' from my front door. They ran off, not far, or for long. I called Sage back in. She had the element of surprise in the first charge, but I think if she got into it with the bears, she would lose.

That's when I registered all the noise coming from the other cabins. The crew was out banging together pots and pans, trying (without success) to run off the bears that David first noticed on a late night trip outside. They didn't go far and I looked for something to throw and could come up with only a couple of tubs. The crew moved closer, taking advantage of the bears' temporary distance and keeping up the noise while I picked up the garbage to bring it inside. (No time for photos, dang it!) The bears had already worked their way through the garbage outside the crew cabin and AJ was picking that up. This is very early for the bears to be here. It's time to improve our garbage management strategies.

At about midnight, before all the bear excitement, David called me out to see the juvenile eagle perched on my sister's outhouse. Knowing that those outhouse walls are 8' tall, it might be possible to understand why David, as a 12 year old, hunched over his younger brother on the four-wheeler for fear an eagle would swoop down and carry him off. This photo also shows how light it is at midnight on the solstice around here.

The rest of the day was devoted to listening for a fishing announcement (we were told to listen again at 3 pm on Monday), plan what to do with any downtime (we have many projects), clean the cabins (an ongoing, full time job), and prepare Sarah's birthday dinner!! We planned to have Indian food so Rohan made channa masala and aloo gobi with dal rice. Mmmmm. I made the dessert: pear halves buried under vanilla custard and finished with whipped cream, toasted slivered almonds, shaved chocolate, and kahlua. But we were didn't have whipped cream. David and Sarah went to town for it, but got there minutes too late and the store was closed. How about the cannery store? Closed till 8. How about the store in King Salmon? Closed. How about the messhall? They were out and waiting for a shipment themselves. Substitution time. Note: trying to work backwards by beating together milk and butter does not create cream. So we made a little sauce thing out of the failed whipped cream substitute and were happy with the outcome.

June 21: Hello summer solstice!

Today was mellow.

Fred Anderson, a professional artist and fisherman, initiated the Blessing of the Fleet many years ago. It's the third weekend in June and the idea is to promote safe boating practices in a dangerous occupation, to remember those who have been lost, and to come together as a community. Freddie was recently quoted as saying, "We'll bless the hell out of you, feed you, give you door prizes and send you on your way."

We were a little bit late (for the first time, we managed not to come empty-handed, but it meant waiting a little bit for the brownies to finish baking) so I didn't catch the name of the man who delivered the blessing, but he said he setnets in Egegik and Harry thought he said that he is the pastor at the King's Chapel church in Naknek. He read some passages from the Bible and then led a prayer of gratitude and remembrance, a petition for safety and healing, and a petition for abundance.

Our fishing neighbors, the Williams are always heavily involved in this event. Having these folks as our neighbors is part of what makes this whole enterprise such a joy. I don't know kinder, more capable, or more helpful people. When I think of what I'm grateful for, the Williams family is always high on the list.

June 20: From whale pod to sunset glory breaking out of clouds

This was my birthday! It was lovely: the second clear day in a row and we're not fishing yet so I can take my meditative time with the sink full of dishes.

The day started the night before with the ongoing residue of a clear day sunset and then waiting for the tide to go down, finding ourselves surrounded by a small pod of whales swimming out with the tide. Assuming they were all beluga, we wondered about the one gray back we saw. Harry says that some beluga are gray. Mystery solved.

Tom Deck, the HughesNet tech that the area is very lucky to have (Will from Fairbanks said he has retired from being ATT's main satellite man) made his way down the beach to tune up my satellite. I feel like I must have misunderstood this, but I think that whatever transmits from my little satellite dish, and whatever comes from it has to actually travel to or from the geo-stationary satellite 23,000 miles away. Was that really 23,000 miles? Tom said the target is about half the size of my cabin. That's some precise aiming. I'm hoping this will mean fewer episodes of "System degraded" where it's better for me if it says "System OK." That was yet another welcome present

I know that to many people it doesn't sound like fun, but I really enjoyed preparing dinner for... there were 14 of us. There would have been 15, but Roy got caught by the tide at the end of the Beach Access Road and couldn't make it down. Though I started the preparations alone, it didn't stay that way. Jeff and Sarah were willing to help as soon as I asked, Rohan, Roger, and AJ went to town to do many things, among them: find ginger, green onions and if they can't find jicama, bring back water chestnuts. Carbon returned with the town crew and I learned that he is very capable in the kitchen. A lot of times, it's hard for a new person to step into a prep process and actually help, but Carbon's help really helped. While Sarah and Jeff were focused on the very labor intensive jicama salad (that became an apple/water chestnut salad) Carbon chopped and sauteed the vegetables for the salmon cakes (using the king that Jake had grilled to perfection the evening before) and then grilled the asparagus. Rohan and AJ put the finishing touches on the cake and the crew over at the crew cabin cleaned it up to receive guests. Together, we were almost ready by the time Harry, Ev, and Hannah arrived (Harry on his bicycle!!), followed shortly by Phil and Tom. It was such a thrill to have so much of my family with us. And when they sang Happy Birthday - that somehow surprised me - I'm pretty sure I blushed. It felt like such a nest of care.

At 59, I don't really expect presents, but Harry surprised me, and so did my mom. Harry gave me a tube to open, saying that Jane (his wife and my sister-in-law) searched high and low for it and I was so thrilled to pull out this Nancy Stonington print that I have been wanting since I first saw it. This is the fish processing plant about a mile down the beach from us and this painting just about could have been made from my cabin. It will be great to be able to glance over to the same view... in my living room in Seattle.

As the day progressed, the clouds moved in so that by about sunset, it had become overcast again, except for a circle of clear sky that I first noticed right above my sister's cabin, to the north of mine. By the time I took this, captivated as usual by the clouds, that hole had started to open more and move toward the west so that now it is over Pederson Point. Looking at the print again, I realized that it must have been a day like this that the artist was painting. Here is the same photo, cropped closer to the perspective of the print.

The town crew also returned with a box from my mom. She had already sent a box of useful items that I needed like sheets, and needles and threads so I was surprised to get a second box. But in the rush of trying to get dinner ready, I didn't take the time to open it until after everyone had left. I wish I had opened it sooner so I could have shown it off to all the guests. It is this beautiful blanket, designed by a Haida artist from Canada. I'm not that great at seeing the symbols in Native art, but my eye sees a bear at the base and a beaver (my totem animal) at the top with some loons to the side of the beaver. I can't see the thunderbird that this blanket is named for, but I'll keep looking.

I thought the sun would slip below the horizon without any kind of display; it was pretty clouded over. But I glanced outside just in time to see a red half ball, just breaking through the clouds. As I watched, the clouds opened up and we had another celebratory sunset. I take them all personally, this one, especially. It was a lovely birthday, full of people and things that I love.

June 19: A break in the weather

I got up a bit ahead of high water to get a photo and found a very gentle wind and, as gentle as it's possible for a 26.2' tide to be, a gentle tide. It wasn't quite high yet.

We were so relieved that we didn't have untangle tumbled nets or retrieve the rowboat or unswamp a skiff... we just took it easy in the morning. It's so nice to work with a crew that likes each other. We all just want to hang around the breakfast table, enjoying each other's company. And now that Sarah is here, it feels like the family is complete... except for missing Josh and Luka. And Alex. Alex is never far from David and me... he may be near other crew members too. I think we'll get his chairs out on Friday.

Just a quick note about Alex, my younger son, David's younger brother. This is my favorite fishing photo of them, together pulling the net into the New Boat, both with complete determination and confidence. This was 2008, Alex's last season fishing with us, and so far, our biggest season ever with 230,000 lbs. June 30 will mark the second anniversary of Alex's death. He was 20 at the time. He died in an accident that was no one's fault. He was doing what he loved - finding joy in small things: in this case, jumping in the waves of a tropical island with a spectacular coral reef. He jumped too high and the wave got control, catching him up and then throwing him to the unyielding and shallow coral reef. I strive not to bring him into every post, but when it gets this close to the anniversary of his death, it begins to feel dishonest to hold him out. A friend told me that living with the death of a child is like being given a burden to carry that gets heavier every year. I can feel that - and I hope those of us carrying such a burden get stronger every year to match the growing weight. Down here on the beach, surrounded by all the beauty and violence of this corner of nature, above the crumbling bluff on the tundra and overlooking the beluga, mud, salmon, and nets, this was Alex's place. It was where he became who he would be, strengths, independence, struggles... and stubbornness! We will burn a candle for him in the sink of each of the cabins from morning till night on June 30. If anyone reading this wants to also light a candle for him, I would love the idea of a little more light coming into the world in memory of my beloved and sorely missed son.

And still, here we are in this world, with a bit better idea of what matters and what doesn't. Today mattered. We had some kings to fillet, seal, and freeze, as well as a half a salmon - having involuntarily shared the other half with a seal. We have been storing Roger's welder on the boom truck and because it has such a powerful generator as part of it, we've been running the vacuum sealer from that power source (having thrown the breakers in a few different locations at AGS by trying to use it). This means that we stop to seal fish wherever the truck is. Today, that was at the high ground on the Beach Access Road. This photo shows Jeff, Rohan, and Roger hurriedly sealing the fish so we could still make it to the post office while the window was open.

We managed to have a record fast trip to town. When we got back, we checked out the fishing conditions - pretty mild. So we spent some time making a birthday dinner for Rohan (even though he cooked it) and dessert (that's my area - warm chocolate pudding cakes with a cream cheese center). On those very full stomachs, we headed out to pick the flood. AJ had brought in the Bathtub with the tide so we wouldn't have to row to it, but we were just a little slow getting out to it and it was just an inch or so above our waders. That is an important inch. Roger gets the badge for valor here - he was tiptoeing like the rest of us and just got fed up with all that timidity with the Bathtub so temptingly close, so he made a bold dive for the gunwale... and missed! He recovered and fished somewhat damp in that mild evening. That probably took care of the calories from one of the desserts.

The fishing was very slow - I think we had a total of 8 fish for the whole tide. But the beauty was abundant. Several of us have remarked that the clouds here are what we think painters want to paint. To me, it always looks like a Maxfield Parrish painting, all rich yellows and blues. It's hard to complain about anything when we're actually in this.

As the lighting often does here, it got dramatic. I was running the boat so I asked Roger to take some photos. Here we are, right under the weather.

We went through the nets, delivered to the Jacqueline W, switched to the Bathtub to go in - if that goes dry, we can get it floating again. Not so sure about the Ambi which is bigger, heavier, and doesn't have a flat bottom. When we come in mid tide like this, we throw the anchor so that if we go straight in, by the time we're at the end of the anchor line and the boat turns so the bow is pointed out, if we jump out at the stern, we'll be about waist deep, buying us some time in the cabins while the skiff still floats. We did that part pretty well, but waiting a little too long so it was starting to go dry in the falling tide.

I find it hard to just absorb the beauty of this place. So when it strikes me like this, I run for the camera - this time, the camera whose panorama function I know how to use. This is about a 200 degree panorama as the sun is setting (and it's very close to time to go out again). Those two boardwalks are actually the same boardwalk - the one from my cabin to the cliff. This was the last thing before running out to push out the skiff.

Together, with the help of the truck, we got it floating again and went through the process of picking out the last fish, the vast quantities of tundra and other debris from the high tides (if that remains in the net, it will make it very difficult to lay it out in our next opening). Since we weren't getting any fish, we decided to pull the nets on the Thursday night ebb instead of on the rising tide at 9 in the morning. Both crews came out so that the nets would end up in the right boats, ready to set in our next opener. Here is David's crew picking up the two outside nets in the Bathtub, in the sunset. Now we wait for an announcement from ADFG. After all the excitement and alarm about an early season, so far, this one is about average. Time will tell.

Finally, and I think best of all in this gift of a day (actually, it might have been the first gift of the next day - my birthday - as I'm pretty sure it was after midnight): we found ourselves waiting for the tide to fall... in the middle of a pod of whales!!! After we picked up our two nets, the water was still a little too deep to get in without getting wet, so my crew was content just to wait in the skiff and enjoy the evening. First, Roger and Rohan wondered if that thing they saw was a seal, though it seemed bigger. Then we heard the blowing. And more blowing. All around us. It wasn't a huge pod, but it was a few. We assumed they were all beluga, but Roger saw one that was definitely gray. I'll take it as a good sign.