July 21: Off to Katmai

David got up early and roused the crew to get the truck loaded. We definitely haven't mastered the concept of traveling light. I'm pretty sure that if we planned to be in Katmai for a month, we'd have taken the same amount of stuff. We had sleeping bags and pads for 11 people, their rain gear and dry clothes (for any weather condition from very hot to very cold), kitchen stuff (pots, pans, mugs, plates, silverware), cameras, radio, toilet paper, bug spray, bug nets, flashlights, a toolbox, 75 gallons of gas, 12 gallons of water, and food all of us for about 3 days.

On the way to the airport with the Ambi in tow, we got a call from Alok telling us that they had missed their flight. Boo. But they were able to get on another flight about 3 hours later. So we waited a bit for Jean, had lunch, and then went to launch the boat. We received another call from Alok telling us that their flight had been delayed another hour. Boo.

... and that will have to be the cliff hanger. We are working so hard to get packed up and then getting up early to dodge the tide in the run for the airport that I just haven't had time to write about our eventful trip. Of the... um, 1000 photos between all of us, we've shortlisted... well, not 100, anyway. I'll add them later. It's gonna take some time. Here are the topics:

1. Late start

2. Engine problems

3. Insanely glorious and beautiful weather

4. Spectacular sunset and simultaneous full moonrise 180 degrees apart. Our biggest problem is that we couldn't decide which one to look at.

5. Very late arrival at Fure's cabin (well after midnight)... to be greeted by two park service employees already in residence! (A case of double booking.)

6. Engine problems persisted the next day. (We had hoped for a spontaneous cure. Nope.)

7. Maybe the filter is clogged - helpful rangers and Bic pens to the rescue

8. Many bears at the Katmai falls and many photos


9. Engine problems persisted into departure (which was optimistically late).

10. Headwind, rough weather, only the senior crew had the sense to don rain gear in time. Many very wet people for three hours of hard "jogging."

11. Very dark by 2 AM but Jake and Rohan navigated us safely - and in the end, Jake could somehow see the dock and guided us in.

12. Abandoned the Ambi at the dock and the trailer in the parking lot. Picked up the four-wheelers at AGS because we knew the tide would be too high for the truck.

13. The tide was too high for the four wheelers. We abandoned the truck on the beach access road, along with the four-wheelers and decided to walk the mile to the cabin despite being cold, wet, and tired. (This was the first introduction to the beach for our guests from New York.) Everyone was strong and brave.

14. The tide was in so far that the creek was too wide to jump across and too deep to wade across in knee boots. David was in his waders and he carried most of us - piggy back or in a fireman's carry (one at a time). Jake walked across in his Xtra Tufs and rain gear... and got wet. Sabita and Alok waded across in their shoes and got really wet.

15. The tide was all the way to the cliff, so we had to run sometimes to avoid getting even wetter from the high waves. The crew was carrying their bedding.

16. Jean, Sabita, Alok and I spent some time yelling at a tundra clump that we thought was a bear.

17. The next day, we fished (we filleted 10 for home and 2 to eat here) and then pulled in the nets and ran the last skiff (the Bathtub) in to be pulled out of the water.

18. Then started cleaning, baking bread (and cinnamon rolls and maple bars), marinading salmon...

Full report, with photos later, followed by an account of these last days (which are going really well). I realize that this crew is so competent that not only do I no longer have to do everything, really, I don't have to do anything except delegate.

Sabita and Alok leave early in the morning and the rest of the crew shortly afterwards (boo!). So it's time for me to get to bed.

July 19-20: Time is short

And that is true in two senses. In less than a week, all the crew except me will return to their far flung places - Washington, California, North Dakota, Maryland, Maine, and eventually, New York. Will already left for home today (and even after only a week, we miss him!) and I'll go a couple of days after the last of the crew.

The other sense is that it's late and we will leave early tomorrow for our Katmai trip! And on the way, we'll stop at the airport to pick up Rohan's parents (who are also my friends), and Jean, who has known me longer than anyone other than my siblings and my mom. They will get the maximum culture shock available: they will just deplane and we'll hustle them into the truck (someone will have to ride in the back!) and to the skiff. David will run us across Naknek Lake to Fure's cabin, part of the National Park Service, where we'll stay overnight and then on to Brook's Lodge the next day to watch the bears fish up on the falls. We'll return Monday night and soon after, I'll post a few photos from that adventure, as well as photos from today's activities at the Fishtival in town, including Beargrass, an afternoon of remarkable local musical talent, as well as tales of sharing the beach with bears and... a wolf!

July 16-18: Starting to pack up

Fishing has remained slow. One tide is usually very slow (maybe 3 fish) and the other, by comparison, seems great (maybe 20 fish). But we're fishing and slowing chipping away at our homepack goals.

Everyone on the crew continues to do great. They are all willing to do any job (though washing dishes, cleaning up and taking out the garbage seem to be the least favorite jobs by a big margin). David led a crew in cleaning up Debby's cabin and they even got down to the counters... and wiped them off! Another group has been sorting through the crew cabin. Working with that group, a particular challenge of keeping this place organized and "lean" occurred to me.

In Seattle or other locations where just about everything is easily available, it is relatively easy to throw away the extra screw that comes with something or the extra button that comes with the shirt or the cardboard box that something comes in. In Seattle, if we find a few days later that that was just the thing we needed for something else, we can go get another one. Here, it's not that easy. Here, if there's some life left in something, it is prudent to save it. That takes us out of the disposal mindset and encourages the hoarding mindset. But those mindsets aren't so specific and actually require thoughtful decision making. Is there life left in this? How could it be used? How hard would it be to replace? How hard would it be to store? How likely is it to be used? And if we're busy or distracted or tired, it becomes, "Never mind - just keep it."

Combine that with distributed decision making and our combined absence of the tidiness gene and stuff builds up rather dramatically. Because of the hoarding mindset, we all have this assumption that the piles of stuff lining the walls is precious and might come in handy some day. It was a major revelation when we peeled the stuff away and found our precious space taken by useless, rusted, broken, and empty things. The truckload that went to the dump was pretty full. And we continue to extract more useless stuff. I don't think we can claim "lean" yet, but we've stepped away from "bloated."

July 16: Bear alert. David came to get me to let me know that there was a bear out by Debby's cabin. We all ran out - it looks like a two year old. Probably the same one that was playing hide-and-seek the night before when the night crew was pulling in their catch. We all ran out to see if we could get a good look and he ran down the cliff and walked along the beach. Here he is on the way to Pedersen Point.

Not much later, David came to tell me he was back and out by the pond behind my cabin. He moved pretty quickly over toward the neighbor's place. I thought they were in town so it was alarming to see someone emerge from their cabin and head to the outhouse not even a minute after the bear passed by. So far, we have managed to avoid one another.

July 17: Slowing packing. It is really helpful to have all these willing and able hands. Some of the crew heads into town to wash laundry, strip the used nets (cut the hangings that connect the web to the corklines and leadlines) and prepare them for shipping southbound to be rehung in the winter,

work on the truck (do you recognize Jeff's eye and... sideburns?),

get the Ambi loaded up onto the trailer in preparation for taking it to Lake Camp and across Naknek Lake to Katmai (that's Big Brad lifting it with the giant forklift and David and Jake helping Jordan getting it in position), and

run the new ranger around a bit so it doesn't rot from disuse. Here David is teaching Will how to run it with Luka looking on. He is still wearing the bandage from where the piece of lumber fell on his head in the net locker.

Will drove the ranger around camp with David walking next to him. I think David has taught Will how to use every piece of equipment we have.

July 18: Almost finished fishing. The "emergency order" period ended on Wednesday, July 17. After that, we go into the fall fishing schedule, which is just like "free week:" fishing is allowed from 9 am Monday to 9 am Friday. Since Wednesday evening's tide produced only 3 fish and there are bears out, we decided to pull our nets on Thursday morning as the tide ebbed, instead of Thursday night/wee hours of Friday morning. We had about 35 fish. We'll set them back out again after we get back from Katmai for one tide (unless the fishing is really great and then... who knows?)

Most of the crew went into town tonight - I stayed out. Mainly because I prefer the beach, but also because I wasn't ready when they wanted to go. I had the place to myself when suddenly Sage sat up, ears up, and eager to go outside. When there are bears around, I figure that's a really good time to keep her in. So I did, for a while. But then I remembered the pan of fish out by my front porch. Uh oh. So I went out and found nothing there except the undisturbed pan of fish. I had been trying to dry the strips that I'd salted and then soaked out - for smoking. But it's been wet and they didn't dry. Instead, they went bad. So the seagulls got the fruits of my work. Sigh. I did feel a bit more secure once the bait was removed from my doorstep.

This part of the season is very hard on the waistline. We are no longer working so hard, though our work remains largely physical. However, those of us who like to bake, really appreciate having a group of young men to bake for and the time to do it. This is a Fruit Pizza and it looks much healthier than it actually is. I've never made such an orange one before - usually I can find good green, red, white, or blue fruit too. The orange-ness of this one has led to the hypothesis that orange fruits last longer than fruit of other colors. I had oranges and mangoes... and some dried blueberries.

July 15: Smickled salmon, bears, and my brother the hero

Two days ago, Sarah and I stayed back at the cabin while the others went into town. We baked bread (5 loaves, plus one loaf of maple bars and two of cinnamon rolls), cleaned the cabin, and cut up some of the too salty smoked salmon and plopped it into the pickling solution, hoping it would dilute the saltiness... and we weren't sure what it would do to the flavor. Roger called it smickled salmon.
Bread accounting: Of course, the maple bars and the cinnamon rolls were gone the day they were baked, and the loaves of bread didn't last much longer. It's the Cornell Bread Recipe, so it's darned hearty (a complete protein). A few years ago Jake dubbed it "nuclear holocaust bread," because it will sustain us through just about anything.

Smickled salmon accounting: it worked. The uber-saltiness is gone, it retained the chewier texture of smoked salmon rather than taking on the softer texture of pickled salmon, and the taste experience is early pickle with a smoky finish. (Roger tried to figure out how to fit "unctuous" and "fruity" into the descriptions to help us feel like real connoisseurs.)

Superhero family accounting: Harry called earlier in the day to say goodbye from the airport. He and Makenzie were leaving for the season. But not before making a further impression on those of us left behind. Earlier in the season, Makenzie tried to correct the bad behavior of a deckhand on another boat who was making unwelcome comments and observations about a female cannery worker. I heard that she marched up to him and said, "You need to stop that right now!" He gave some sort of adolescent reply and she stood her ground, "No, I mean now. You need to shut up and stop doing that!" I'm so proud to have her for a niece. She's about 5 feet tall, looks about 12 and is the sweetest person I know. But she's no softie and no coward.

Not to be outdone, her dad (my brother), heard another obnoxious man behaving inappropriately outside his bunkhouse window at about 4 am. Harry works as a corrections officer in Palmer the rest of the year, and I think he is a particularly good one, using firm compassion and confrontation in equal measure, and kindness almost always. He ignored the disturbance until he heard the sounds of violence and then he jumped up, ran outside, and subdued the man, keeping him in a submission hold until the police arrived... 40 minutes later. Harry was in his skivvies for this adventure. I have it on good authority that he often performs his most urgent rescues wearing only his underwear. He confirms that these are plain blue boxer briefs, "I just find them much more comfortable than Fruit-of-the-loom." I think they may be the key to his super powers.

We caught a nice king salmon on the morning tide and decided that we should keep it to grill in honor of Will's arrival. Can you see why we're working so hard on our homepack? I'd hate to spend the year without being able to eat this once a week or so.

The bears begin: David and his crew went out for the evening pick, bringing back in more than we have been getting on the flood. He called my cell phone and woke me because the truck just up and died. Never a good thing. I think it was in that conversation that I learned that they had had the company of a bear during the ebb pick. Will was the first to spot it, first mistaking it for a floater in his eye. Sarah shuffled him, herself, and Jeff into the cab of the truck, while Jake and David were pulling in the rest of the fish. Jake was using his light to guide David to him. Jake stepped away from his sled of fish just about as David started the four-wheeler. When he trained the lights on the sled, he caught the bear running away from it. It seems to be a 2 year old cub. This is the bear time of the season and we now have to really remember to keep the garbage inside, and look both ways before we venture out to the outhouse.

July 13 and 14: New crew member

Will came in at about noon on July 13. He’ll be here for a week. He spent much of the day in town, working with David, Sarah, Jake, Jeff, and Luka. They were cleaning up the Ambi and the Grayling, getting the Ambi ready for the trip to Katmai and the Grayling (and its outboard) ready for the winter. They also organized and remodeled the net locker, taking out an un-useful desk and building more shelves for storage. Luka worked with Harry putting up the Janice E. They stayed until a piece of lumber fell on David's head and made a gash on the back of his head, matching the one he received at daycare when he was 4 and told us his name was "David James Nicol Climber Builder Smith." The old gash occurred during the "Climber" phase of his young life. Apparently, this one is connected to the "Builder" phase. I want him to wear a helmet until we get through the "Smith" phase.

Rohan, Roger, and I were busy here at camp. It got to 82 degrees on the 13th. That’s darned hot for here. David has really great vision – of the far-seeing type. He made a list of projects that need to be done around here – some that have needed to be done for a long time. Many years ago, Sarah set up a clothesline for the crew cabin, using scrounged material. It has held up pretty well, but could definitely use some stabilization. That was one of the items on the list, and Rohan selected it.

This is what it looks like around camp these days. Here is the front of the crew cabin, with a buoy light on its way back to Debby’s cabin, the unsheathed propane smoker out for its initial try on top of two old pickle barrels that we use as part of our end-of-the-season mouseproofing procedures. To the left of the barrels is a heap of cardboard boxes that may be on their way to the dump or may become fodder for the next bonfire. Looking beyond those barrels and boxes, you can see Rohan working on the near clothesline support, and the drooping clothesline strung between the two uprights.

We found a screw anchor that we wouldn’t be able to use for anchoring our nets because it is too light for that, but plenty strong enough to hold up a clothesline, no matter how many wet sweatshirts are on it. The idea is to extend the clothesline from the cabin on one end, across the supports and down to the anchor on the other. That should keep it from sagging. Rohan and I started to drive the anchor in by walking in circles around it, holding on to the turning bar… until it just stopped going in. Probably because it hit permafrost. When the anchor stops making progress on the beach, it's usually because it is spinning on a buried rock. The choices then are to back it out and start over, or try to power through. We always start by trying to power through and that is done by hitting it with something heavy - on the beach, it's usually a big rock; near the cabin, it's a sledge hammer. We called on Roger (note the beach-appropriate footwear) to be the hammerman while Rohan and I turned the bar. It's a little unnerving to have that hammer swinging so heavily and so near. Eventually, we just held the anchor upright (using the bar) while Roger hammered, and then turned it some more. I got tired and Roger took over (after changing into anchor-driving appropriate footwear) and freeing me to take photos.

Here are Roger and Rohan, straining to win an argument with permafrost. A person must be persistent to win that argument. They were. I think the anchor will hold.

The Bathtub crew and the Ambi crew have been taking turns with the tides. The evening tide belonged to the Bathtub crew, but Roger and I covered it while Rohan made curry and the Bathtubbers stayed on their roll in town. (Until the incident with the "Builder" gash on David's head.)

When Roger and I were about to start on the last net, we looked toward shore and saw... was it Rohan waiting to join us? But it looked like he didn't have a shirt on. We went in and found him swimming. In the Bering Sea. He swam out to meet us and climbed into the boat. I'm not sure but it might be the first time anyone on my crew has ever fished barefoot and shirtless. And gloveless.

Most of the Bathtub crew arrived with enough time for me to look at David's gash (queasy) and put a dressing on it, invite Will to wolf his first meal with us (luckily he likes curry. Rohan has another fan of his cooking. I think it is unanimous), and join the ebb pick (we all thought it was best to keep David out of the boat for the tide). Jeff and Luka had stayed in town to work on the outboards, and Sarah had to run into town to return the four-wheeler key they would need to get home. So Roger and I covered. Jake started the evening by coaching Will on using the outboard. Then I took over and showed him how to grab the net and pull it onto the boat. Here Roger is coaching him through picking a fish.

It isn't easy to get the hang of getting the web out of the gills, but he's catching on fast. (Missy and Chris - I have many other photos I can share with you if you like.)

As soon as Sarah got back, she jumped into her gear and helped with the walk-through. Even though we told Jeff he didn't need to gear up (we were already ready to go), he put on his boots to help pull in the fish in the little sleds. No one on this crew tries to avoid work. They are really great to work with, and they bring out the best in each other. Here are Jake, Sarah, and Jeff loading up the fish...

Except for those that the seals started to eat, but did not finish. There were many others that they completely consumed except for the head. I think they may eat two or three of our fish for every one we get to keep. When they leave a lot behind, we save it. These will be trimmed up and cut into strips for the second try at smoking with the new propane smoker.

Roger and Jake are looking out at another spectacular sunset. It really feels like an honor to be working in this ancient role, under this glory.

What better way to wrap up Will's first day with us?

Will got up the next morning (Sunday) at 6 to go out for the morning flood pick at 6:45. We might have gotten 10 fish (and the seals got more than that, leaving us two more partials). We came in at about 7:30 or 8 to wait for the ebb walk through. I salted the fish down and will freshen and smoke them later this week. Will said he sat down on the couch and closed his eyes just for a minute. Next thing he knew, I was waking him at 11 for the ebb walk through. He has the makings of a great crew member. One of the top requirements is the ability to sleep when the opportunity arises.

The crew split up again today with most heading into town to finish the carpentry projects in the net locker and the mechanical projects with the skiffs. David mentioned Will's hard work, describing how he washed down the Ambi, looking hard to be sure he didn't miss anything.

Sarah and I stayed back and gave the crew cabin a thorough (though not yet complete) cleaning... and baked bread. The ambitious town crew returned and continued their productive streak by cleaning the (filthy) sofa (beating was involved) and reorganizing in preparation for guests arriving in about a week.

July 11 and 12: Fishing is slow

We have been having varied weather - foggy then sunny then really sunny and downright hot. None of it seems to be what attracts the fish, but we are still plugging away, getting a few hundred pounds per tide, working on our homepack. We all want to take plenty home.

With fishing slow, we have the chance to notice things like our hearty and brave daisies that insist on blooming in this difficult environment...

And bake bread - this is best done on a cold and rainy day. The heat from the oven is comforting and the smell of the bread is uplifting. Oh, and the taste of the cinnamon rolls reminds us that some day it will be sunny and warm again... and if it isn't, it doesn't really matter all that much.

The other things we've been doing is gathering shots of the two chairs Trevor and Luka placed early in the season to duplicate the mural that the kids at Alex's school painted in his memory. Earlier, I posted this photo of the mural (taken by Rohan's dad, Alok).

During the summer, I've taken a number of photos of that still life, created solely from the students' understanding of Alex's Alaska world. Their painting looks like it's a little later in the fall, after the tundra gets some red in it and we probably won't be here long enough to get that. This was my first attempt. It's a little dizzying to try to capture a photo of a scene that has been painted from the imagination, but that also seems appropriate. And just to show some of the realness of this scene, here are other conditions that these chairs might find,

like the morning fog,

mid day blue with bird activity,

and sunrise.



The pickled salmon and the smoked salmon have finished their processing. The pickled came out great and we're in the process of trying to restrain ourselves from just inhaling that. The smoked salmon, though, came out too salty. It's odd, because I soaked them out for the same amount of time. I think smoking concentrates the salt and pickling dilutes it. So we're about to try another taste sensation: we'll pickle some of the smoked salmon. And later, we'll smoke salted salmon that has spent more time soaking out. I'll keep you posted on how pickled smoked salmon is.

We decided to take the Ambi and the Grayling in to AGS to be pulled out of the water for the season. It's always a little nerve-wracking - what if we get another push... late? We can handle it. Whatever comes, we can handle it. Jeff and Roger took the Grayling and Luka ran the Ambi with me. I have several photos of that process, but since my camera battery died just then, they are on my Alaska phone and I don't know how to get those photos off the phone and on to my computer.

Rohan drove in to help us finish off our town errands (we had about 20 fish to process for home pack and we wanted to get started on winterizing the boats) and take us back to the beach after he helped the neighbors with their net. It was lovely, driving home into the sunset.

July 10: Happy Birthday Debby and Bruce... we're fishing again

Today would have been the 60th birthday of my sister Debby, and I'm not sure which 39th birthday it is of my brother-in-law, Bruce. Happy Birthday to you both. Debby, I miss you.

At 9 this morning (before we even started this fishing period) we received an announcement from Fish and Game that 7500 more fish had made it past the counting Tower for the Naknek system, for a total of 885,000, beyond their minimum escapement goal. We also heard that 31,000 more salmon made it past the Kvichak counting tower into Lake Iliamna, for a total of 1.74 million, plus another 200,000 milling around in the river waiting to go up. Then at noon, still before we even started the fishing period, we received another announcement telling us that setnetters would remain open until further notice. So, we're back in business fishing around the clock.

After a late breakfast, we rushed around to finish projects before we began fishing again. Here are Sarah's photos of the outhouse raising. This is the view a person would see approaching the outhouse from the crew cabin. They made the outhouse out of pallets (skinned with plywood), and the walkway to it. Instead of costing more than $400, the structure itself was free. Yay.

With this crew, aesthetics are very important. Well, and good luck. They salvaged this piece of plywood with a big window-shaped hole cut in it and they put it in front of the seat to give the occupant a nice view. And somehow, Sarah found a window that fit right into the hole. I'm not sure how it could be so perfect.

This is the view that the occupant gets to see. It may encourage excessive or lingering outhouse use. Not a common problem. But one of the many good features of these composting toilets is that they don't stink. I don't really know why, but mine never has. So lingering won't be a bad experience.

Yesterday, I started to soak out the salmon I had salted early in the season, before the freezers were ready to receive salmon. My plan was to see if I could get the Bradley propane smoker to work, using that salmon. Last night, we put the smoker together and I trimmed the "freshened" salmon, cut it into strips, and laid it out to dry.

I had many more strips than the smoker would hold, so I laid out additional batches on cookie racks to await the smoker and the rest, I cut up into cubes to pickle. It should be ready by Friday afternoon.

We had to wait a little bit before we could set our nets because it was a very slow moving tide. When we looked back toward shore, we saw steam rising up off the mudflats - or maybe it was gathering fog. This is our neighbor, Steve, also waiting for enough water to set. We liked the fog as it was rising around them. Right now, it's early in the morning of the 11th and we just came in from the flood pick. Today, the fog was so thick that we couldn't see shore from the end of even the inside net. It's a little scary then, but we're all safely in.

Here is the Bathtub crew, going through an ebb pick. We ended up with about 3500 lbs for this opening. We were all really glad to be back out in the boats, on the water.

Why is that? I think about my safe little sanitized life (not counting my refrigerator) in Seattle and sometimes I wonder what form of insanity possesses us to do this - where fingernails can get torn off or we can get lost in the fog or at least become coated in it (we all had frosty halos this morning) or we are freezing or too hot or bounced around and bruised inside the skiff. Why do we prefer that to umbrellas, temperature controlled offices, and enforced warnings on coffee cups that the coffee inside may be hot? I think it's something about being closer to life and closer to what we're really made of instead of being separated from it by the many layers of gauze we use to protect ourselves from what is sometimes its brutality. I think we've decided that we'll take the fully saturated colors even if that sometimes means a fully saturated black or blood red.

When we came in last night at about 9 pm, we consulted the tidebook (our devotional reading) and determined that we wouldn't need to go back out again until 5 am. Wow. That's just about a full night's sleep. Except, of course, for those of us who choose to wait up because we know a spectacular sunset is coming. And then can't stop taking pictures for the entire 35 minutes it takes to complete. These two photos are about 4 minutes apart.