CLEAN-UP AND REARRANGE

August 8, 2011-Monday

Like a well-oiled machine that runs at constant speed we were once again up at 8:30.

The low last night, under clear skies was 41 but now as we had our coffee and Chai tea it was cloudy and 50.

One egg, some bacon, biscuits and fireweed jelly made for breakfast. We worked the Sunday crossword then Onie went to the shed to clean up and line the new shelves.

The writer chatted with Clair, read his email, enews and checked the market. Ouch! Someone in Texas might be asking, “do you miss me now”?

The writer joined Onie to work in the shed cleaning and rearranging. The new shelves had been covered with shelf paper and Onie moved her pantry. The fishing stuff was consolidated next to the door, in easy reach of the eager fisher folk. The stuff to go home was put in one place so we hopefully would not miss anything when we pack the coach. Everything was very neat when we were finished.

Then we went inside to rest but there were eight cases of fish waiting to be put in shed first.

When that small task was accomplished we watched a little TV before Onie wrapped another case of fish for the writer to put in the shed.

Rain was falling steadily now and more TV was watched as the rain beat its tattoo on the roof. The steady drumming was too much and soon we were napping.

When we woke it was more TV and a snack before Onie began work on week eight while the writer fished.

It was cold. The writer fished half an hour, bumped several, hooked four and landed two. Even though it was turning colder the mosquitoes were making an appearance so the writer stopped his Kenai jerk and began cleaning fish.

Onie worked and finished week eight.

When the writer came in with his fish Onie asked him to check week eight prior to her posting it. He made a couple of small corrections and then it was ready to go up.

Onie hit whatever keys she uses to send our creation to the website and it was done.

The little hand on the clock stood at ten and the big hand at twelve. It was almost dark and a chilly, damp fifty one.

A few more notes were made before we watched AMC TV for half an hour before going to sleep.

With sleep came more rain.

THEN THERE WERE FOUR

August 9, 2011-Tuesday

The night was cool with the temp dropping down to forty four at six.

Onie was up at seven fifteen to have coffee and a snack before heading off to Zumba and the gym at eight thirty.

The writer rose at nine, fired up the IPod with music from the 50s and 60s and then began checking his email, enews and reading the paper.

With a cup of Chai tea in hand he looked at the market watch before showering and dressing.

Then he made more notes.

Outside, at noon, it was overcast and windy.

Onie was home at 12:30 having gone to Freddies after the gym.

As she does sometimes after Zumba and the gym she took a nap.

The writer made notes and expanded on some from earlier.

When the nap was at an end Onie was once again in her kitchen where she baked an onion pie. Yes, you read that right. She baked an onion pie. It was very different and good.

Just as the pie was coming out of the oven the canopy police, Donnie and his brother, Paul, came over to tell us ours was roaming the camp ground, unattended and lacking a leash. The wind had dislodged it and it was currently being pushed around by that same wind. Donnie and Paul helped me retrieve it and secure it, fastening the legs down with screws and then anchoring them even further with supporting guys from each corner.

Onie was inside checking her email.

With the canopy back in place the writer went to fish and caught one then went to check on Onie. Her back had been bothering her and the writer felt that rest was the best thing for it.

She was okay so he returned to the grate where he caught another fish.

Taking a break he cleaned the canner and asked Onie if she had enough fish for another canner. She didn’t.

It was back to the grate and the river. Six thousand four hundred came in yesterday and with that number the writer felt he should be able to catch more fish. He fished and fished and then had another one.

Onie had said she needed four more fish to finish out her canner so more flipping was in store. After a few hits, misses, hooks and losses a fish was brought to bay, the grate, the bonker and stringer. The writer had Onie’s four fish.

LaVon’s daughter-in-law, Lenore, had caught one fish and wanted it steaked, for her mother. After doing that the writer fileted his four and took them in to Onie.

By now, ten o’clock, it was getting dark and the mosquitoes thought it was time for a meal. So did the writer. Inside the coach he had a tomato and avocado followed by gumbo over rice.

Tired again Onie was off to bed.

The writer once again checked his email, made notes and wrote.

When he tucked himself in at one it was 48 and clear.

SILVER

August 10, 2011-Wednesday

The writer was half an hour later getting up after Onie who rose at eight thirty.

When he joined her it was clear and sunny outside and the temp stood at fifty one. Though the low had been forty one it was shaping up to be a beautiful day.

With a cup of Chai tea at hand the writer checked his email and read enews while his mate worked a crossword.

They broke their fast at ten thirty and worked another crossword.

Lenore had invited Onie to go to market day in Soldotna so she dressed appropriately and piddled while she waited for Lenore to come by.

The writer read more enews and email before he turned his attention to making notes.

When noon arrived it was still sunny and the thermometer had climbed to sixty eight.

The writer took out the trash while the editor vacuumed and cleaned floors before turning her attention to reorganizing a cabinet.

While outside the writer wandered the camp a little taking pictures of things he thought might be of interest to the readers. While reviewing the pictures he had taken he discovered some pictures he had forgotten about, pictures of fish he and the editor had caught.

During her organizing Onie had found some things that needed to be in the shed. The writer took them out and stored them. While he was there he took some items that wouldn’t be needed again this summer and placed them in the basement of the coach. Some days it seems like the duo is either unpacking for the summer or repacking for the trip home. Today seemed such a day.

The report said twelve thousand fish came in yesterday. We went to fish. Onie managed a small silver, the first one caught off the grate this year. The writer got skunked.

We went back to the coach for a snack and talked about how fast the summer has passed and how we have missed some friends.

Lots of folks were in camp and coming into camp for a Hickel reunion. Before the influx is complete there will probably be fifty to sixty extra folks here. Already today there were lots of kids running and playing. Young moms were laying out sunning while some dads fished and others were watching kids.

Onie and the writer had fun watching the kids play. Their ages ranged all the way from those in baby carriages to teens and they all seemed to be having fun.

Onie returned to her work in the coach. She told the writer she needs two more reds to finish out a canner. He went off to the grate. It was almost empty.

As he began his flipping and jerking a crowd of youngsters gathered to watch. When he hooked a red, only to have it jump and pull off, the kids shouted encouragement. Their cries brought additional kids to watch me fish. A few flips later a big hen was hooked. She too took to the air, putting on a show for the kids who whooped and hollered like a band of banshees. All the commotion caused dads and moms to come running who got there just in time to see the writer glide the fish up on the wet grate, corral it and bonk it. By the time the fish was gilled and strung the grate was full of dads, rods in hand, flipping and jerking trying to duplicate the writer’s catch.

The kids, probably fifteen to twenty, stood along the bank yelling encouragement to their respective fathers, each child hoping his or her dad would be the first to catch a fish.

With the grate so full and other dads waiting to fish the writer stood his pole against a tree and took a break to clean our fishing tackle bucket and work in the shed.

Then he went in to check his email before going back outside to visit with Mike.

Marguerite had come down to wash and she visited with Onie.

Hickels filled the grate except for where it was flooded. No Hickel had boots so back on the grate I stood where the grate was flooded and caught another big hen. Even though the grate was already crowded more Hickels worked their way in between their kinsmen, to fish.

I quit. Mike had been fishing too and had caught a red. He stopped to clean fish, his and mine, while I coached some young Hickels in the fine art of the Kenai flip and jerk. By seven the coach was ready to leave the grate.

At the Marlin Onie, Margueruite, Dixie, Kay and Kris were visiting and snacking. Not wishing to intrude on an all woman party the writer ambled down to the Hickel campfire for a few minutes, visited with some of the kids and then went back to the coach where he went inside.

He snacked until Onie came in and fixed a supper of salad and fresh beets from Chelsie’s garden.

Tired and with a full tummy both occupants of the coach went to bed at 8:30 where they watched GSN until ten when they fell asleep. They could hear the faint sound of voices coming from the Hickel campfire.

Outside it was clear and turning colder. The wind had been from the north again today and one wonders if an early fall is in the making.

1+1+1

August 11, 2011-Thursday

If it is Thursday it must be Zumba for Onie. She was up at seven fifteen.

The night time clear skies and north wind had brought colder air to us. It was thirty seven at six. When Onie rose the temperature had managed a meager two degree climb.

Onie had her coffee, worked a crossword and had cold cereal for breakfast before getting dressed for Zumba and the gym.

The writer joined the editor at a quarter after eight.

At eight thirty Onie and Kay headed out the drive, headed to Soldotna and their workouts.

With a morning routine that had been established the writer sat at his laptop with a cup of Chai tea, checking his email, enews and the market before turning his attention to a game of Solitaire.

Then a few notes were logged while hot tea brewed. It went with the cold cereal he had for breakfast.

After breakfast he opened some accumulated mail, talked to Jim Johnson and his phone company, back home.

By now Onie was back home.

The writer carried a tote of fish to the grate for her where she processed them for canning.

The writer, still at the laptop paid some bills before making out a deposit slip to be mailed to the bank back home.

In his email he had received information and forms relating to the insurance program for the church back in Coldspring. He reviewed it and responded to the senders.

He also got a nice email from Amanda Harris at White River Crossing RV Park, Yukon, Canada thanking him and Onie for the box of fish they had sent along with Kurt and Becky. Kurt and Becky had dropped off the fish, visited for a few minutes, and then continued south, headed for Sheldon.

Onie was finished at the grate so the writer brought the tote of fish back to the coach. With the processed fish in the coach Onie began stuffing jars for canning.

After receiving a kitchen pass the writer joined Mike on the grate, for a little fishing time. After a while he strung a red.

Marguerite was visiting with Onie while she was stuffing the jars.

The writer, sensing that enough time had passed for Onie to be finished stuffing the jars, went back to the coach. Onie was just putting the lid on the last jar needed to fill the canner. Together she and the writer loaded the canner then he started it before heading back to fish.

On the grate he strung another red before taking a rest and checking his email. He was looking for replies regarding the church insurance. No replies had been received so once again he went to the grate.

One more red was strung.

A short walk took him down to Donnie’s place where they visited a few minutes before he headed back to the coach. It was time to turn the canner off.

Mike had been fishing but now had quit and cleaned his fish. He came by to visit and pick up Marguerite.

When they left for the cabin we went inside where we snacked and watched TV until sleep came.

WORK AND PO

August 12, 2011-Friday

The writer was up at one thirty with leg cramps.

Outside it was forty eight and pitch black.

Trying to quell the leg cramps the writer made notes, played Solitaire and wrote. When the cramps finally subsided he went back to bed at three. By then the temp had dropped to thirty three.

Onie was up at seven thirty drinking coffee and checking her email.

The writer joined her at nine.

She was getting ready to go to yard sales. She was out of the house at nine thirty. She usually drives but today it was Dixie who drove. In her truck rode Kay, Onie and Marguerite.

The writer read the paper and enews before having breakfast. A shower followed and then he dressed.

Back at the laptop he wrote, did agency stuff, worked on snail mail, spent an hour and a half of church insurance related business, did some banking and then took the fruit of his labors to the post office in Sterling.

On the way back he stopped for a massage. His legs were very sore from the leg cramps and his back needed some relief from the stress of the Kenai flip and jerk. After half an hour of deep massage he felt much better.

Back at Castaway he started a load of wash then went to fish.

His efforts on the grate were rewarded with two fish in ten minutes.

He took a break to check on the wash.

Back at the grate he had another fish in five minutes.

Some new folks were on the grate, fishing. They, like the writer, ten years ago, had not a clue about what they were doing or how to catch a red. They had seen the writer land his three fish, unassisted, and were most curious about what he was doing that they weren’t. The writer explained that casting out into the river and retrieving a hook loaded with salmon eggs or a lure, which they were doing, was not going to catch anything this time of year unless one was lucky enough to hang a King. Silvers will bite on salmon eggs and so will trout but it was too early for Silvers to be in the river in any numbers and trout stay in shallow water near the edge of the river. The writer invited the folks to look at his rig and mimic it as well as his flip and jerk technique. They had most everything they needed to re-rig except some good sharp hooks. The writer gave them some then went back to check on the wash.

The washer had stopped so the clothes were put in a dryer and the writer returned to the grate.

In another fifteen minutes another red hung from his stringer. The new folks were hanging in flipping and jerking, trying for a red. The writer encouraged them and said only time, patience and experience would help them catch a red. They stayed with it, flipping and jerking.

Onie was home from her yard sale adventures. The writer helped her unload the yard sale goodies which included a Cuisinart coffee pot, with the manufacturer’s labels still on it, a box of Oscar de La Renta perfume still in its original wrapping, an Abercrombie and Fitch dress shirt for me, a patriotic shirt for herself, some Christmas place mats, 2 DVDs and various other goodies. She had spent more today than she would normally spend in two days but it was still less than fifty dollars.

New, the Cuisinart alone would have cost about seventy dollars and the perfume around sixty five. The coffee maker had been used once and was like new with the instructions still attached. With all the new things examined the writer was ready to fish.

Another hundred casts produced nothing but while they were transpiring a few sprinkles began to fall.

Onie captured the beautiful rainbow and sea tern perched in a tree by the Kenai River.

Onie went to get the clothes from the dryer and then fixed supper, salad, brisket and fresh cabbage from Chelcie.

Heavier sprinkles were falling as we walked to Donnie and Julie’s. He had asked us to come visit when his family had gone and the last of them had pulled up stakes this morning. When we got to his rig at eight thirty everything was quiet. Not a soul was to be seen anywhere. There was no music, no campfire, no big gathering of camp folk and all of that was normal for a Friday night at their place. After all, Donnie and Julie were the acknowledged night owls of the camp. We rapped on the door. Julie answered it. She was in her pajamas. Donnie was in bed. They had enjoyed having their family come visit but they were exhausted and ready to rest. We said good night and returned to the Marlin.

In the coach we watched TV until ten.

As we slept rain fell.

SINGING

August 13, 2011-Saturday

It was still raining at six.

The couple rose at nine thirty.

Outside there were lots of folks on the grate, fishing.

Coffee and tea were made and enjoyed while Onie made biscuits. While they were baking she boiled some sausage, cooked us one egg a piece and set the table with a jar of Rescue figs, apricot preserves and lemon curd.

We worked some crosswords and read the paper while we had our breakfast then, while Onie cleaned her kitchen, the writer read enews, checked his email and made notes.

A friend called with news of her husband in the hospital. The doctors are not optimistic about his chances over the long term or even the near term. She asked that we keep both of them in our prayers. We assured her we would then the writer hung up to digest that news.

Work was waiting for us outside. Onie washed out our canner and then the writer took it to rinse at the river.

Some of her yard sale items were packed in a small carry-on roller bag she bought at a yard sale.

The cooker and propane bottle were put in the shed and the Cuisinart taken into coach to store for the ride home.

Back inside Onie worked on a dish for tonight’s fish supper and the writer made notes and wrote.

At the appropriate time we got ready and went to the fish cookout.

Onie took the dish she had worked on, shrimp casserole.

At the cookout there was lots of salmon and halibut along with hush puppies, cheese grits, (there are lots of Southerners in camp) potato salad, green salad and breads. There were lots of folks in attendance but once again it was obvious there was enough food to feed twice the crowd.

Mike Richardson with granddaughter Rachel

Onie chats with Sally

Donny and Chelcie. Donnie and wife Julie have a great setup for camp events. Chelcie and wife Dixie are
our across the road neighbors.

Newcomers to camp this summer, Bill and Danny.

Les and Chuck

LaVon and Marguerite

After supper the Karaoke machine was fetched from the Marlin and the singing began. Many different voices joined in before we packed it in.

Sandy, Rachel and Onie

We were home at ten.

Most of the evening had been spent under canopies or the awning of the coach as it had been cold and drizzling.

It was still that way when we got home.

Onie was in bed at 10:30 to watch TV.

The writer stayed up to sing a little more then do some writing.

A few days ago a credit card bill arrived via email. It is one that is not paid on line and the writer usually just prints out the statement, writes a check and sends the whole thing off. This month the printing had been tough to figure out as the website seems to have changed. At last the print problem was solved and the statement printed.

With the statement printed writing went on until one then the bed was sought.

Outside is was fifty five and a light rain was falling.

BAD MEMORIES

August 14, 2011-Sunday

The alarm woke us at eight and we got up at eight fifteen.

Outside it was overcast and fifty nine.

We had Chai tea and coffee while the writer checked web news and Onie fixed breakfast--biscuits and sausage.

After breakfast the writer was off to shower while Onie dressed.

The duo was out the door of their rig at ten forty.

Light rain was falling as they drove to pick up Marguerite and head on to church where they arrived at ten fifty five.

By now the rain was steadily falling.

Tim’s sermon today was the third part of a four part series entitled “What has happened to me?” His text is from Revelation, second chapter, first five verses.

After church we drove home in the rain and dropped off Marguerite before heading to the coach where we arrived at twelve thirty.

Inside the rig our indoor/outdoor thermometer reported it was fifty nine outside. The low last night was fifty five.

After changing clothes Onie surfed the web while the writer made notes and talked to neighbor Jim, back in Coldspring.

Even though good amounts of rain have fallen near and far from the house not a drop has made it to the ground on Lake Road. Storm clouds had gathered and thunder had rumbled. A fresh north wind had dropped the temperature from one hundred one to seventy five, in two hours, but no rain had fallen. The ground was still parched and watering would have to continue. Jim has been watering our fruit trees every two or three days and they continue to thrive but trees, some hundreds of years old, are dying from lack of water. The cooler temps were a welcomed relief but the residents of the area would have to wait a little longer for rain.

The writer tried to call Cruise and Travel, again, to pay the balance due on a cruise. Once again he was asked to leave a phone number, this after a voice mail assured him he would be able to talk to a “sales representative” to pay the balance. These people have absolutely no regard for their customers as they are too cheap to even have a hated phone tree. Instead one has to leave a phone number and they call back at their convenience. This morning it happened to be at ten after six. By the time the writer roused they had hung up and were so inconsiderate as to not even leave a name or extension. Even their website, which is difficult to navigate, does not give one the opportunity to pay a balance on line. It seems they want to make their customers submit to a time schedule that fits them and not one that is good for the customer. It is hard to believe that in these difficult financial times that their business is so good they can get away with this type of insolent arrogant disregard for their customers. There are at least two customers that I know of that will never again book anything through these hucksters. They seem to be unaware that the bad experiences they subject people to will be remembered a lot longer than the reduced prices they offered.

Our fresh water indicator said we were out, two days ago, but we know better than to believe it. It actually shows empty when the level goes below one third which is about thirty three gallons. The holding tank indicators also showed full but once again we have learned they are not to be relied on. Even over the longest period we have never had the black water completely full and the best indicator for the gray is when the tub begins to drain very slowly. It did that last night so today fresh water had to be taken on and the holding tanks emptied.

Onie watched TV while the writer took care of these chores.

With fresh water on board and holding tanks empty the writer turned his attention to the door latches/locks for the basement. Each year road dirt, dust and grime has to be removed from these mechanisms and to do that they have to be removed from the doors. After being removed they are cleaned, re-lubricated and then reinstalled. Since there are about seventeen or eighteen of them they are cleaned a few at a time. Today three doors and their locks received attention before the writer departed, rod and bucket in hand, for the fish grate.

So far a total of three fish had been caught by four folks. Trying but not to be discouraged the writer began his flipping. Five minutes later he hooked a big buck, nine or ten pounds, and had him up to the grate, ready to land him, when a helpful (?) soul plunged a net into the water driving the fish under the grate, around a piece of rebar and sending him on his way up the river. After retying a few more casts were made but with the “help” still hanging around waiting for another chance to try a hand at netting he packed it in and went to the coach.

Tomorrow was another day. Besides the heavenly shades of night were falling and the gathering gloom was gathering mosquitoes and white socks which the writer had no desire to feed.

Bucket and rod stored the writer went in the coach and tried to access the web. Of late that has been a chore that usually ends without success and so it was on this day.

He then turned his attention to a little Solitaire and Free Cell before settling in to write.

Onie had retired to watch TV--GSN.