The night was short and the sun came beaming down. It was five thirty, time to rise and shine. Time to face the day and get our bodies off to the Sea Witch. Backpacks in hand and coats on our backs we headed off to the Homer Spit, in the toad. Onie had said she and Haley would spend the day at Ocean View, do laundry and go to the pot luck luncheon. They had enough chauffeuring yesterday and wanted to sleep in today.
Fishermen were flocking to the Spit this morning. The thirty-five mile an hour wind of yesterday morning had been replaced by a five mile an hour breeze. It looked like a fine day was in store for all the eager fisher types.
We were right on time arriving at pier EE slip 11, where the Sea Witch crew and the other seven paying passengers were waiting, at 6:15am. Departure was set for 6:30 but as soon as we were on board the twin Cummins roared to life, shorelines were cast off and we were on our way to high adventure.
Oft times roads that seem smooth from a distance are bumpy, up close. This morning that was the tale of the bay, smooth from afar and bumpy up close. Once we were outside the protection of the spit and the harbor, the Cummins began to show their muscle and spray was flying from the bow as the vessel leapt from one wave to the next. Seasoned and green salts alike sought a railing or stanchion to cling to as we headed for the fishing grounds and our hoped for catches. In our wake a smaller boat sought refuge from the three-foot swells but we soon outdistanced them and they were last seen making heavy weather of it.
Where the Chugach Mountains run down to the sea several islands interrupt the smooth flow of water into the bay. Here tides run faster and waves become more violent. Such was the case this morning. Everyone on board was glad we were welded together and larger than a teapot. The after scuppers ran full as the bow crashed into waves and sent spray and foam flying, only to wash astern. Some souls cupped their heads in their hands as they lay their heads on the table. Perhaps they were praying for calmer seas. A few of the guys popped pills hoping for calmer innards. Fifteen minutes later the prayers were answered as we found flatter seas past the island constrictions. Now we only needed to enjoy the boat ride for another hour and then hope for tight lines.
Mike found his spot, 110 feet deep, and let go the anchor. When the anchor held the engines were silenced, hooks baited and the fishing began. The fishing continued for perhaps half an hour with only one or two bites among the nine lines. Mike encouraged us to stay the course reminding us the day was young. He also told us that there were not a lot of halibut at this location but the ones here were “good ‘uns”. We kept out eighty pound test line and special hooks, baited with squid and smelt, taut in the water with the two pound weight dangling off the bottom.
For those of you uninitiated in the fine art of halibut fishing I will tell you that the bite is unlike most other fish and requires a great deal of patience and self restraint. From the first time a person holds a fishing pole he is told to jerk when the bobber goes under or he feels a fish biting the bait. This is not true when fishing for halibut. When the fish bites you will feel it mouthing the bait. The end of the pole will jiggle as the fish nudges the bait and eats small pieces. After what seems an eternity, sometimes as much as five minutes, the fish will take the entire bait, and hook, into its mouth. At that time you will feel a steady downward tug. You still don’t jerk the line. You simply lift the rod tip a bit and begin reeling in line. If you have a small fish, say fifteen or twenty pounds, it will only be a little difficult retrieving your line and the fish. If the fish is bigger the chore may take a little more time and energy.
I had been standing on the right corner of the fantail for half an hour enduring a nibble now and then and resisting the terrible urge to “strike”. Other less patient souls around me did strike when they felt a bite and then cranked up battered bait and two pounds of lead. No one had boated a fish or even had a fish on when I felt a good bite. The fish seemed determined to drive me to distraction, nibbling and bumping the bait, for at least five minutes before the downward tug came. I responded by lifting the rod tip and began cranking. As soon as the guys around me saw I had a fish on they called Mike and Anna and they came running. The fish was off the bottom and coming to me pretty well when they reached my side and wanted to know if there was any size to him. I told them that it might go thirty pounds because it wasn’t putting up much of a fight. No sooner were the words out of my mouth than the fish decided he liked the bottom better than he liked being hoisted to the top. The line began to sing off the Penn reel and I hung on to the pole as I bent back to put more pressure on the fish. He kept going. I kept leaning back and cranking the reel handle but the line still ripped off the spool like it was freewheeling. Mike and Anna started a jig on deck next to me and saying this fish was no thirty pounder. I allowed as how it might go fifty or fifty-five. They both laughed and went off whooping and hollering. After a couple of hundred feet of line had been taken from the spool the fish stopped his run. Now I lowered the rod tip and pumped the line taking up slack each time the tip went down. The line came in slowly and when I had recovered some fifty feet or so of line the fish made another shorter run. Already my arms, back and legs were telling me that this fun could turn into hard labor. I worked to retrieve more line and the fish came along shaking his head and making shorter runs. At the end of fifteen minutes we saw the fish and he saw the boat. He took one more dive before I was able, with weary arms, to bring him along side where Mike and Anna gaffed him and pulled him aboard. The other fishermen gathered round to have a look while Mike and Anna calculated the weight, 92 pounds. This wasn’t the Big Kahuna but it was a start. A rest was in order but I skipped it to keep fishing.
In an hour or better we had boated three fish, mine and two more. The others were in the fifty-pound class. That meant most folks hadn’t caught a fish so we moved on.
As the anchor chain bore its way to the bottom at the next site we noticed that the seas were calming. It hadn’t been rough but the ocean notion was motion. Lines were in the water again and this time we didn’t have to wait so long for the action, Jackson. Five or six more fish were welcomed aboard. Tracy was still trying to get the hang of not jerking, old habits die hard, and getting a keeper in the boat. Once or twice she had a halibut on but didn’t get it to the boat. She was the first however to catch a beautiful rockfish. Mike threw him in with my fish with the thought that we could use him for bait if we ran out.
Now the six-mile an hour current, caused by the tide, was on the wane. Slack tide would make the fishing much easier as the baited line would be almost straight down instead of at a fifteen, twenty five or even a forty degree angle. Halibut are bottom dwellers, usually, and it is imperative to get the bait near the bottom to be successful in getting them in the boat.
As the Cummins came back to life, lines were retrieved and poles placed in holders. We were off on another run to a honey hole, 210 feet deep. As we cruised through the now calm seas Mike told us to be ready when he gave the word to drop lines. When we stopped we would be on the fish. We weren’t likely to catch a monster here but the action would be fast and the fish would be keepers, twenty to forty pounds. Tracy and I talked while waiting for the anchor to set. She was excited and her face shone with anticipation. I tried to give her a little advice about the jerking thing and she accepted it but said it was real hard to restrain the urge.
We felt the anchor line hold and then the word came to fish. The line was no sooner at the bottom than the bite began. Rod tips were being pulled and held down all over the boat. Now the Chinese fire drill began. Eight anglers were hooked up to fish. The anglers wanted the fish to behave and come straight to top. The fish wanted to stay near the bottom and failing that they insisted on swimming about as they came to the surface. The end result was folks bobbing, ducking, weaving, shouting and yelling as they tried to keep lines from tangling. Most of the time they were successful but on one occasion it took several minutes to untangle lines, on board, and decide who had caught what. Tracy was fishing just a few feet away from me when I heard her yell she had a fish. I looked in her direction and all I could see were teeth. A grin went from ear to ear as she fought her first halibut. She wondered aloud how a fish could be so strong but she stayed the course. I yelled for Mike or Anna and Mike showed up with the gaff. A good fish, thirty five to forty pounds was hefted on board.
I pulled my sunglasses back down to avoid the glare. Fish were coming along side at a regular pace now. Some were kept but many were released to go back and grow up. Tracy noticed that some of the guys were keeping small fish, fifteen to twenty pounds, and didn’t seem interested in trying for anything bigger. She looked to me for an answer and all I could offer was that perhaps they were weenies and didn’t want to work anymore. She was into her work. Now that she had the hang of it she was hooking up time and again. Each time the fish came along side she had it released. She was looking for the daddy of all halibut.
Sometime during the melee I hooked into one that stretched my line without making the arm numbing runs. He went about thirty-five pounds, certainly no monster but a good keeper. I was finished fishing for the day. The limit is two halibut per day and mine were in the box.
Tracy fished on. I was with her watching as she caught and released many fish, still looking for a “big ‘un”. By now many poles rested in their holders as fishermen counted their two and headed for their beer stash. Mike announced we had another half hour of fishing so we should start looking for keepers. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder Tracy and I decided to tag team the fish. I retrieved my rod and reel and baited up again. The plan was to use two lines to hook twice as many fish to better the odds of getting a big fish. She would hook a fish and get him to the surface and then hand me her rod. I would give her my rod with a hooked fish on it and she would bring it up. I kept the first fish in the water next to the boat until she got the second one up. Then she would decide if she wanted to keep either, for her second fish. How many fish we released is hard to tell but the sun, wind and exertion had rendered Tracy red in the face. I could tell she was having a great time but the job of almost constantly bringing up fish, for thirty minutes, was telling on her. We were down to the lick log. One of the next two fish would have to be her last. Her smile told me she didn’t know whether to be happy there would be no more reeling or sad that it was coming to an end. The last two lines in the water were ours. They both had fish on them. Tracy reeled them both up. While the fish circled at the end of the lines she made her choice and the other was released. It was time to go home.
Anna began filleting fish and placing the fillets in plastic bags. Each bag was identified by special knots that she tied so we would each get the fish we caught. Tracy watched until Anna had finished our fish and then she disappeared. I continued to watch as Anna made short work of a big job.
I thought of all the young men I know who hope they can find a wife to fillet their fish. After the filleting was done she cleaned the boat, scrubbing it down with a brush, soap and water. I couldn’t bear to watch all the work. I went to find Tracy. She had been in the wheelhouse visiting with Mike and watching our progress toward the Spit, still far off, but she was no longer there. There aren’t too many places to hide on a forty-three foot boat. As soon as I remembered her sagging shoulders and tired countenance I knew where to find her. I went below. There below, on one of the vee bunks, lay Tracy,
We were back in EE 11 and the guys from Coal Point Packing showed up with their lugs to carry our fish to the weigh in and processing facility. We gathered up our stuff and began saying our goodbyes. Mike gifted me with a Sorry Charlie Fishing Charters cap and asked that I wear it when I go fishing with Larry Croft on the Take Down in a few days. Mike said Larry knows that the caps only go to guys who catch the big ones. It sounded like a bit of friendly rivalry to me and I agreed to participate. We were slow to leave the Sea Witch and our new friends but when the fish lugs started up the pier we followed.
Weigh in showed we had 98 pounds of fillets. That meant about 196 pounds live weight. We agreed that was pretty good for four fish. It was certainly the best on our boat for the day and a number to be pleased with. Our fish weighed 49 pounds on average. Stripped of the hide they were to be packaged in plastic bags holding one pound each. They were to then be flash frozen and next Wednesday they would arrive in Austin. Tracy would store ours until we pick them up sometime in the fall.
Tracy drank her hot chocolate while we waited to settle our packing and shipping bill. I looked for something stronger but it wasn’t to be had.
The drive back to the coach was short and the seven pounds of fresh halibut we brought with us was well received by Onie. We told our fish stories and the size of our fish was only limited by the reach of our arms.
We had happy hour while Onie and Haley told us about their day. It had started well after we had gone. After breakfast Onie cleaned the coach, a never-ending job, and then fixed a potato cheese puff for the potluck lunch later that day. At the designated time Onie and Haley set off for the lunch. Ocean View furnished Fried halibut, baked halibut, halibut chowder hot dogs and hamburgers. Each camper brought a dish of their choosing and the choices ran the gamut. Anyone who went away hungry surely had their jaws wired shut. Desserts, also by Ocean View, included cup cakes, ice cream and cake. When they got to the lunch they were given some tickets for a drawing to be held after the luncheon was over. When the drawing began Haley won an Artic Angel pin and Onie won a prize she let Haley select, a stuffed toy Polar Bear. In addition to these goodies Haley had another prize. There was a contest to see who could create the most original hat. As the youngest contestant Haley won an Alaskan Doll for her creation of a Red Riding Hood hat with big bad wolf attached.
Now happy hour was coming to an end. Tracy and I washed the sea salt and the day’s accumulated dirt from our bodies. We felt the last bit of energy go down the shower drain along with the grim
Halibut that slept on the floor of Cook Inlet would sleep in our tummies tonight. While we cleaned up Onie prepared halibut chowder and blackened halibut. As soon as we had wrapped ourselves around as much of this meal as we thought prudent, we toddled off to bed. It had been another day in the further adventures of Onie, Pawpaw and family.
The plan had been to drive to the Kenai Princess after fishing, last night. Onie made other plans for us while we were out bouncing around on the boat. I was so grateful not to have to fight fatigue to make the drive. We left this morning after breakfast. We were rested and relaxed. During the drive to Soldotna, seventy-five miles, we were treated to the sight of a soaring Bald Eagle but no other wildlife of note passed our view.
Soldotna is the home of our favorite Alaskan Chinese restaurant. We stopped there for lunch. It was as good and the servings as generous as we remembered.
The next stop after lunch was the Kenai Princess RV Park. Tracy helped me connect all the shorelines and then she, Onie and Haley walked to the Kenai River. On the way up from Soldotna we had trouble getting the hitch bars to lock in place. They were dirty and needed attention. Now I could give it to them. With hot soapy water, an old toothbrush and a shop rag I scrubbed and brushed until the accumulated oil and grim were gone. The bars were back to locking properly. I moved from the rear of the coach to the front where I debugged us and then cleaned the windows on the Forester. Tomorrow we would be on the road in the toad and it would nice to see out.
When jobs run thin or energy flags I can always sit with the laptop and think up stories. I did that until the girls returned from their hike. Haley had a couple of bags of new treasure, rocks, and the look of a little girl who had just about played out walking up and down the river, throwing rocks, picking flowers and generally having a good time.
Onie began putting together patties for venison burgers and I got out the propane grill. When all the fixings were complete the patties went on the grill. Shortly we were sitting down to the best hamburgers ever.
With not a lot of kitchen cleanup we were ready for bed, soon after dinner.
Some days never end. Well, it seems that way. This was to be one of those days. The jangle of the alarm clock woke us long before our bodies would have. Each of us got ready for the big day in store for us.
With cameras and binoculars stuffed in our backpacks along with snacks and water bottles we set off toward Seward. One of the rewards for an early start is the increased possibility of seeing animals. Today we were rewarded with a moose sighting, not far from the Princess. This little extra lifted our spirits, already high, as we drove to keep our appointments Onie had planned.
The road to Exit Glacier is almost in Seward. When we got there we turned and drove on to the park entrance where we skated on my Golden Age Pass. There is no charge for me entering a national park nor is there a charge for anyone lucky enough to be in the car with me. Ah, age is grand. Exit Glacier is a land locked receding glacier. Along the trails we hiked are markers showing where the glacier was at different times in its retreat up the valley. In years past it had covered most of the valley and even in two years I could see a change. A river of water cascaded from beneath the ice and formed the Snow River that flowed through the gravel plain past the terminal moraine. Onie and Haley took the low trail to the river. Tracy and I took a loop trail to take us close to the face of the glacier.
We were on a tight schedule so we walked rapidly even though the trail was steep in some places. We stopped in front of this mammoth piece of ice and rock to try to comprehend just how big it really is. It isn’t like trying to envision eternity or endless space but the size does boggle the mind. After we had been sufficiently mind boggled we hiked on around the trail and back down to the river plain where we found Onie and Haley, Miss Exit Glacier 2003. A quick check on the time told us we had to move quickly if we were to be on board the Kenai Star when she left her berth in Seward bound for the Kenai Fiords National Park. We each headed for the toad as fast as our little legs could carry us.
The girls got off in front of the ticket office so they could pick up the tickets while I parked. As soon as I joined them we were ready to walk the plank. Well, not exactly but it was time to walk the plank walkway to the boarding area. Just before we left the ticket office I noticed Onie and Tracy taking some pills. Unknown to them the effects would be long lasting.
We had been away from the dock about five minutes when the captain announced he had spotted a pair of sea otters off the starboard bow. He changed course to get closer to them and then spun the boat so folks on both rails got a good chance to see and take photos. That was something that he would do all day ensuring happy campers on both sides of the boat.
Headed out of Resurrection Bay into the open Pacific we ran into three-foot swells. An announcer reminded those prone to mal de mer to please use the rail and not the bathrooms, in the event their stomachs decided to reject breakfast. The large boat handled the seas quite well but there was a noticeable roll and pitch as we made our way toward Holgate Glacier.
Spume from a spouting humpback whale caught the captain’s eye from his vantage point in the wheelhouse. Again he altered course to take us closer to the whale and the other one that was soon blowing in unison with the first one. Although many eyes strained and many lens clicked no one caught a glimpse of a tail as the whales dove for the bottom. What was seen was huge flukes as the whales rolled on their sides and waved at the boat before quietly slipping below the surface. Once again the captain resumed his course.
An announcement was made that lunch would be served, shortly. Table number one would be served first, in the buffet line. That would be us. We left he outer deck and went inside to prepare for lunch. It had been a long time since breakfast and our stomachs were thinking our throats had been cut. We were starved. Breakfast had been at seven and it was now two.
When the call went out for table one we were already in line. The salad looked great and it was. The prime rib, salmon and rice pilaf looked even better. We got big servings and headed for our table. The prime rib was the best I’ve eaten in years. Any thoughts of motion illness disappeared as we shoveled in the food. Haley ate better than she had the whole trip even though she had been complaining of a tummy ache half an hour earlier.
Refreshed we returned to the outside decks. Remember the pills Onie and Tracy had taken at the pier. They were something called, Bonine, and were to prevent motion sickness. The dosage was one to two. If one is good two is better so they took two. Now the pills effects were kicking in big time and it took the bracing twenty-mile an hour fifty-degree wind to keep them awake.
The closer we got to the Holgate Glacier the stronger and colder the wind became. The ice mass cools the air when it hits the slope. The cooler air drifts down the ice slope cooling and gathering weight as it descends pushing warmer lighter air in front of it. By the time the air reaches sea level it is a veritable gale, literally. People snugged down hats and zipped up jackets as we neared the seven hundred foot thick slab of ice and stone. It stretched some three quarters of a mile in front of us. Even as we approached and before the engines shut down we heard the loud cracking coming from the moving ice as it made its way toward the sea and its destructive warmth. Engines off and drifting the wind pushed us away from Holgate as we stood on deck and listened to the groaning cracking thunder as the glacier moved and calved. Onie and I had seen this before but it is still breath taking each time. After we had drifted away the captain restarted the engines and took us up close, a quarter of a mile. This was repeated a number of times with each approach and drift presenting alternating sides of the craft to the glacier face. The captain was still trying to be sure everyone got equal viewing time. He was so good at the equal opportunity thing I thought he might be a government mole. When fingers, ears and noses were numb from the artic temperatures the captain whisked us away to a warmer place.
Large colonies of birds nest on the islands of Resurrection Bay. On the islands they find security from land-based predators although they still must contend with an occasional hungry bald eagle. This would be paradise to many birders. Birds by the thousands wheel in the air as they fish. Their calls fill the air so that all hope of orderly thought is lost. Their nest fill every available nook, cranny and ledge while their droppings color the cliffs below. Yes, there were birds here, a plenty. A few islands were visited and they held different kinds of birds but no one bird seemed to have a monopoly on any one island. They seemed to share and share alike. When the birders amongst us were satiated we turned for home.
Home was still somewhat distant when the captain brought the Kenai Star alongside a colony or sea lions. Dozens of cows lay sunning on the rocks while their young, some just two weeks old, made their way over the rocks, still to weak to take their first swim. A few feet away a couple of twelve hundred pound bulls were enjoying a siesta. Amidst the hubbub of yelling youngsters one in particular seemed interested in our group. He sat still and watched as we slipped by. When we had once again turned toward home he rejoined the other youngsters in play.
On the way out the captain had announced seeing dolphins in the distance but too far to go see. Now we were homing in on the Seward beacon and the dolphins came to us. They raced along, at speeds up to thirty miles an hour, swimming under the forefoot of the boat and then breaking water with their dorsal as they frolicked alongside. It has been said that dolphins like noise so the entire passenger retinue banged on the sides of the Kenai Star. The dolphins stayed with us for quite awhile frolicking in the bow wave and then just as they had appeared they disappeared.
Now the trip was truly coming to a close. We were nearing the harbor. The sun, though still high in the heavens reminded us that it really does move in summertime Alaska. It cast a pretty gleam our way as we watched Seward draw nigh.
Over the intercom Ranger Doug invited all of the young, who had been working on their Junior ranger requirements, to meet him. They were to have a brief Q&A period with him and then hand in their workbooks. If all the requirements were met they were to be sworn in as Junior Kenai Fiords National Park Rangers. A very proud Haley attended this gathering of young minds, handed in her book, was sworn in and received her badge. With the acceptance of this badge her total became three.
The call went out over the intercom for desert. The last table would be first and the first table would be last. We had quite a wait before they called table one. When they did we rushed down to get our share of the carrot cake, chocolate brownies, cheesecake and Jell-O with whipped cream on top. It had been two hours since lunch so we got lots of everything. We knew the drive back home would be long and no one likes to travel on an empty stomach.
When the boat had come to a complete stop at the terminal and the captain had turned off the seat belt sign we gathered our belongings, being sure to check the overhead bins, and deboated.
It was time to find the Forester and head home. Some folks napped as we wound through the mountains and over the creeks on the way to Onie’s house. The driver wasn’t one of the nappers.
When the door to the marlin was closed and locked for the night we all scrambled for our beds. Soon the only sound in the coach was that of tired adventurers regrouping for another day.
This morning I made an executive decision. I went to the office and signed up for a continuous stay here at the Kenai Princess, until the 13th. We don’t have to move. We are moved out. The only stops we have had were at the Spartan Rally in May and at the Northern Truck Center for repairs. Neither one permitted us to just be. The next few days will just be but first we have one more day with the girls from Austin.
This being Haley and Tracy’s last day with us Onie asked for orders for breakfast. Haley elected Onie’s biscuits. To that was added bacon and Pattie’s figs and Muscadine jelly. Of course there was lots of coffee, hot tea and butter. It was a veritable feast.
It was time for showers in preparation for another big day. We had risen around eight and the girls would be traveling until eight or nine tomorrow, Austin time. We wanted to be sure they had a good start. When everyone was squeaky clean the packing chores began. Onie helped Haley and Tracy did her own. I stayed out of the way and made no comments about the progress, a first no doubt. When the bags were ready I got them into the toad and then we made one last check of the coach to be sure nothing was being left that the girls couldn’t live without for a few months. They had done a good job. Nothing was left to pickup.
Now the journey to Anchorage began.
A stop at the Portage glacier broke the trip. Here the girls pulled off their shoes and socks to soak their feet in glacier water. The soak turned out to be more of a dip as feet began to turn blue almost as soon as the girls began to squeal about the frigid water. Blue feet were jerked out of the nearly freezing water; it had huge chunks of ice floating in it, and allowed a little time to dry in the low humidity before going back into socks and shoes. Why do we say we put on our shoes and socks when we all know the socks go on first? Hopefully the walk to the Begich Boggs Visitors Center warmed the feet of the adventuresome ones.
Inside the center a whole world of information waits for those who are interested. From a diorama of the Chugach Mountain range to recorded sounds of Alaska it is all here. Want a picture of yourself in a kayak? Sept in sit down and have someone snap the picture. Want to know about the Portage Glacier? Step into the next room and fill you head with knowledge from the best minds around. Are you interested in the most severe earthquake to ever strike Alaska? Read about the 9.2 Richter scale monster that claimed the town of Portage and changed the valley for years to come. Want to read how moose survive in the thirty-seven feet of snow that falls in the valley? Pick up a headset, put it on, press a button, listen and watch a screen as a moose expert explains it as it plays out before your eyes. You get the picture don’t you? Well, we had about forty-five minutes here before we moved on.
The Progressive Claim Office in Anchorage was next on our list. We stopped there and picked up a check to cover the damage, less deductible, to the charge air and radiator on the Marlin. While we were there Onie and I looked in the yellow pages and identified our favorite Mexican food restaurant, in Alaska. We hadn’t tasted fajitas and corn tortillas in weeks and we were feeling deprived. Once we had found them we called for driving directions and were there in fifteen minutes even in the five thirty rush hour traffic.
The smells coming from Don Jose’s had the salivary glands working overtime before we ever got inside. The chips and salsa that arrived just after we did were attacked by all and soon disappeared. We ordered and the second round or chips and dip made their appearance. Before we could finish the chips our meals arrived. Once again we were amazed at how we got what we ordered. Memories of Meldentna, the rustic cabin and a cook with his own idea of what we should eat won’t die easily; all the more reason to relish the meal when the cook gets it right. The crunch of chips gave way to the silence of rolled tortillas with fajitas in them and enchiladas being cut. It was a wonderful meal. And then a really nice thing happened, Tracy picked up the tab. She had done so before, many times, but we had thought this would be our treat. Had I known she was buying I would have ordered to go and we wouldn’t have had to shop or cook for a week.
Stuffed to the gills we left for the airport. The security level was low but it would still take some time to get parked, bags checked and say adios. We got all those things accomplished before anyone checked the flight schedule. The flight was delayed thirty minutes. We visited a little while and then we exchanged hugs with the girls before they went through security and headed for the gate. They were on their way home and so were we. With light traffic we should home by ten.
When we rounded the curve on the Seward Hiway, headed for Cooper Landing, we noticed the tide was way and the mud flats extended almost as far as the eye could see. An EMS vehicle came up behind us and quickly disappeared in the light traffic, which was moving at a good clip. Home was just a skip away. Just past Beluga Point the traffic quickly slowed and then stopped.
The EMS unit that had passed us was blocking the road, along with some traffic cones that had been set up. Farther down the road a state trooper had blocked the oncoming traffic. Just four cars back from the traffic cones we watched as Life Flight landed. A few minutes later, firemen carrying a stretcher rushed to the copter and loaded their burden. The copter flew toward Anchorage. While this was going on we noticed a motorcycle near the state trooper’s car. There was also a motorcyclist and his bike parked near us. He watched the scene closely. Traffic was stacking up behind us, around the curve and out of sight. We waited. We talked to the driver of the pickup in front of us. He worked in a trauma care unit in Seward. He had just turned forty and felt he was having a mid-life crisis. Perhaps a motorcycle would get him out of the doldrums had been his thought until he drove up on this scene. He was having different thoughts now. A somber trooper approached the toad and told us the accident had been fatal, there would be a further delay, up to two hours, to permit the investigating officer to complete his work. He suggested we return to Anchorage and visit friends or grab a bite to eat. Our friends had flown by now and we had just eaten. We decided to just wait. The middle-aged pony tailed guy on the bike near us fiddled with a broken handlebar mirror, a pair of torn leather gloves and a few scraps of leather as the trooper approached him. He listened while the trooper delivered the message, his buddy was dead. The trooper moved on and the biker let the gloves and scraps drop to the ground. He turned and looked out on Cook Inlet, probably the last thing his friend had seen before crashing into the retaining barrier as he ended his 325 foot slide from his bike. We waited a few minutes and then approached the lone biker and told him we were sorry about his friend and asked if we could help in anyway. He shook his head no.
Onie returned to the toad to read and I visited with the pickup driver. Time passed. More police officers arrived. Measurements were taken. Witnesses were questioned and statements were taken. The investigation was winding down. A group of fifteen or twenty bikers were allowed to ride through the accident scene and up to the cones. Then a trooper spoke to the lone biker and he rode over and placed himself at the head of the group. Had he been riding with them? Had they arrived just after the accident? Did they know each other? What had happened to cause the accident? These and other questions went through our mind as the group revved the bike engines before heading off.
A few minutes later the cones came down and we were allowed to move on. In the hour and a half we had waited we had watched, from afar, as the last chapter was written in someone’s life. He was now beyond human help. I hoped, for his sake, he was prepared to meet his maker. Being at the front of the traffic was nice as we drove toward home. We stopped for fuel before continuing. Onie was still reading, from outside available light, when we got home at eleven thirty or twelve.
It had been a long day. Perhaps we were in sensory overload. We went to bed.
Each day I make notes from which to write the day’s story. Here are my notes for the day. You write the story. “Sleep late, coach cleaning, washing, leftovers, reading, a/c, bed late, dark at 1am, bed at 2”
You did a good job on yesterday’s story but I will resume my pecking or I will be reduced to just driving.
After a late night we got up around 10. Breakfast was quickly finished and then we began straightening up in the coach. Extra bedding was repacked and our clean clothes were hung up and placed in drawers. I made a few phone calls to clients, to answer questions they had left on voice mail. Onie worked on organizing some pictures to go on the website. I pecked and then went for our mail. Opening, sorting and answering some of the mail took an hour. The items for data entry would wait for another day. I was still behind in my story telling so I returned to the laptop. I may have sneaked in a game or two of solitaire but what the heck; we are supposed to be retired.
A fella can only hold the laptop so long before the arms begin to ache or the brain goes numb. Sometimes those things happen at the same time. Then you can’t remember what you should do to relieve the problem. Today the arms ached before the brain shut down so I left the laptop for a book.
Onie has been reading off and on since we left Lake Road. I’ve taken very little time to read until yesterday. Yesterday I read a short story, a little over three hundred pages. Today I’m reading a book that is a little over six hundred pages.
How sweet it is! Onie is the best cook in the whole world, according to many grandchildren and me. Tonight she took some of our halibut, some cream of celery soup and some other ingredients and made a meal fit for a king. The king wasn’t here so I ate it for him
Here at the Kenai Princess we sit in the comfort of a wonderful lodge when we do our email and web update. After dinner we made the walk to the lodge. A sign over the telephone jack asks guests to limit their use to email and fifteen minutes. Since it was after nine we hoped it wouldn’t matter if we fudged a bit on the time. It didn’t. Thirty-five minutes after signing on we signed off and walked back to the coach.
We collaborated on a couple of games of spider, read a few minutes and then retired.
July 10, 2003-Little Read Riding Hood
Rising late is getting to be a habit.
Onie fixed sausage and biscuits for breakfast. Of course we had coffee and tea too.
After breakfast we picked up our books and read for a while.
I was still trying to catch up on my writing so I worked on a while before going to check on the mail. A second packet had arrived. We opened and sorted that, answered some, pitched some and put some aside for data entry.
With the mail disposed of we returned to our books. Mine was soon finished and Onie closed hers’ just a little later. While I was trying to decide what to read next the thought occurred to me that perhaps we were really, at last, easing into retirement. Retirement to me has always meant more time to read. I’ve had that the last couple of days. Maybe I finally made it to retirement.