June 23, 2008

Monday

ANNIVERSARY

Nine o’clock came pretty quickly after staying up ‘til two but we rose anyway and made coffee and tea.

David retrieved the paper and then headed off to the shower.  When he returned we had breakfast, eggs, grits, bacon and English muffins.

After the dishes were cleaned up and the paper had been read, a few notes made and a quick rinse off for me, we headed off for Safeway where David treated us to a coffee and a Chai tea.

It was sunny and fifty five.  Even though the writer thought it very good weather the new arrival from Texas found it quite cool, perhaps even cold.

A stroll through the aisles of Safeway revealed they had nothing we needed so badly as to pay their prices so we headed on to Fred Meyer where we got mushrooms, grapes, limes, milk, salad stuff and tomatoes.

On the way home we took a little drive past Talon Air and some of the nicer homes around Soldotna. 

Back at the coach we had no wi-fi signal so David read some more of the paper before falling asleep.  With him napping the writer became the fisherman and headed off to the grate for a spate.  A trait of red fishermen is the fly for a bait, to land a great catch.  Today the fly was a bust and the thought of fish but lust, so it was back to the dust of the drive and on to the coach.

A rested David and I ambled over to Kurt and Becky’s around six, for dinner.  We had been invited.  Kurt had been more successful with his fishing and a fresh caught red lay cooking on his grill.  It would soon be on the picnic table along with wild asparagus, salad, marinated mushrooms, cheese and veggie tray.  Sidney and Barb had joined us as well and she had contributed the mushrooms, cheese and veggie tray.  David and I contribute healthy appetites.  While we were eating I wished several times that Onie was here with us celebrating our wedding anniversary.  While the day had been full it seemed somehow empty without her.  Twenty seven years have passed since we stood, with our children, and pledged to spend the rest of our lives together.  We have and we will.  We thank God for strengthening our love for Him and each other with each passing year.

We were back in the coach by eight.

David surfed the web while the fresh water tank was filled and gray and black water emptied into the honey wagon.

David proved, after all these years, that he is still the pinball wizard as the computer rang and clanged as he sent the ball rocketing back and forth sending the score ever higher until it was over two million.  When my turn came I was undaunted and went straight to Free Cell as there was not the slightest glimmer of hope of me beating two million.

Later, after making a few notes, the laptop was relinquished to David and the writer went to the grate, again.  There were no fish caught.

David had been reading while I fished.

With both of us back inside we watched movies until one.  Have I mentioned that our mother and father were night owls as are all our siblings?

June 24, 2008

Tuesday

A LITTLE RIDE

David was up at six, retrieved the paper, read a bit then went back to sleep on the couch.

When the writer rose at nine the sun was high in the sky and had warmed the coach to a toasty temp.  Coffee and tea were made and sampled before oatmeal with walnuts were cooked with boneless skinless chicken for a side.  Talk of politics, taxes and sundry other items failed to quail our appetites or induce indigestion.

The paper was quickly scanned while David headed off to the shower.

The kitchen was cleaned and a few quick notes were made.  Rawhide played on the TV.

When David returned we drove off to Fred Meyer to get David a fishing license.

Having that chore behind us we headed off to Coldstone Creamery to reward ourselves for a job well done.  He had a banana split while the writer enjoyed a hot fudge sundae.

Licensed and creamed we headed off to Kenai and points north.  Those happened to include Nikiski and Captain Cook Park.  Returning from the park we stopped in old Kenai where we stopped by the old Russian Orthodox Church.  In years past it had been open but now it was closed and locked.

In Kenai at the Bridge Access Road a moose grazed next to the sidewalk as we waited for the light to change.  David got a couple of pictures after he got over his surprise.  The Bridge Access Road took us to K Beach Road.

We followed K B Road back to the Sterling Highway and then headed back to camp.

By five thirty the grill was hot, the salad made and the mushrooms and onions sautéed.  We sat down to enjoy our home cooked meal.  When it was over at six thirty the kitchen was cleaned up and a movie selected.

When the movie ended our day did too.  It had been clear and cool all day.  It still was.  David set the heater on seventy five and drifted off to sleep.

June 25, 2008

Wednesday

A BLOW

The sun shone brightly at eight when we rose for watermelon and fudge.  If there is a perfect breakfast to get one started for a busy day this is it, lots of sugar with a good shot of caffeine.   With what we had taken in we would be good for several hours if not days.

Showers were taken, notes made and the paper read from back to front or was that front to back.  Whichever, it was read completely before the writer settled down at the laptop and David, against all odds, reclined on the couch, for a nap.  The steady tapping continued on the HP.

Outside a blow was in the making.  Around eleven Sonny came by to advise that winds up to sixty miles an hour were blowing in Turnagin Arm Pass.  It was headed our way and most folks were getting in their awnings and securing lawn furniture.  The pecking was interrupted so the writer could take in the awning, with David’s help.  Sonny left us on our own to get in the furniture as he moved on to other sites to help other folks prepare for the coming blow.

Physical exertion usually brings on an appetite and today was no exception.  With the awning in and the lawn furniture secured David and I went in to a lunch of Paninni and Onie’s chicken soup.

Full and secure from the wind the writer became the gamer before returning to writing. David warmed the couch again.

Outside it was cooling off as the winds began to pick up.

When David woke we headed off on a drive that was to occupy four hours before we got back to the confines of the coach.  We drove to the Skilak Loop looking for bears and then on to Cooper Landing where we drove through the Princess Lodge facilities before driving two miles on a back road, still looking for bears.  We were on a primitive road where the all wheel drive of the toad was a reassuring thing.  The wind began increasing and trees and brush were bending beneath its onslaught.  Overhead clouds raced before the wind as schooners on a storm tossed sea.  Down below the writer, now the driver was concerned about the possibility of a tree or trees coming down across our way out.  It was

decided a hasty advance to the rear was in order.  In less than half the time it taken to drive into the wilderness we were back on the pavement and as much as in civilization as one can be in Alaska.

Soon we crossed the bridge over the Kenai River and were on the road again bound for Sterling and the warmth of the coach.

We arrived at fifteen ‘til nine.

At the camp it appeared that all awnings had been taken in.  Our outside rug had been blown around even though it had been weighted down with rocks at each corner.  The strong wind had beaten us home.  It was very fortuitous that we had taken in our awning.

Brisket that had been smoked in Coldspring was taken from the freezer, heated in the microwave, great invention, and turned into sandwiches, for supper.

The writer/driver watched Tru TV at ten while David read.  At twelve the lights went out in the front and the back of the Marlin as we both fell asleep.

June 26, 2008

Thursday

WWW

Al Gore’s World Wide Web is a boon to those who love to travel but feel the need to stay in touch with home and business.  One can count David among those folks.  He spends a lot of time on the WWW.

This morning he was up early, surfing, checking the market and email.

The writer rose at eight.  It was seventy one in the house.  He felt the need to turn the air conditioner on but simply turned off the heater and opened a window.  A few weeks at Castaway had inured him to cool mornings but David; recently arrived from ninety five degree weather, found forty five degree mornings a bit too cool for his comfort.

When the heater was unplugged David headed off to the big house, not jail, the lodge for a shower.  The writer followed him after a bit.

Clouds, pushed along by light winds, hung overhead threatening rain.  At nine the thermometer rested at sixty one and the heavy clouds were delivering the rain, light though it was.

While David read periodicals I wrote and played games.

Lunch was brisket sandwiches.

David needed gloves for the upcoming halibut fishing trip so we hustled off to Fred Meyer to get a pair.  We also fueled up the toad so we wouldn’t have to stop in the morning.

Back at camp we looked at pictures Becky had taken on her walk up the Russian River Trail.  A fisherman had stood in the water challenging a grizzly for his right to the river.

It seems to the writer that we, the human race, would be better off without this fellow so it can only be hoped that sometime in the near future he will become one with the bears.

Back home from Kurt and Becky’s at seven we packed for Homer and our fishing trip.  Items were placed in the car; we ate supper and were in bed by ten.  Tomorrow would be a long day.

June 27, 2008

Friday

ASEA

David Benjamin Blomstrom made his earthly appearance two and a half years before me so it was only fitting that he got up earlier today than did I.  He rose at three.  I followed at three thirty.  We dressed for a day on Katchemak Bay while drinking our coffee and tea.  He wore my Polar-Tek underwear while I donned sweats under my jeans and flannel shirt.  By four ten he had on his jeans and a flannel shirt.  In addition we had loaded the car and were ready to set out for Homer, Captain Gregg and the Tomahawk.

We would be spending the day asea.

We had good clear weather as we started southwest down the Sterling highway.  Not a wisp of fog was visible anywhere.  Sometime heavy fog can stretch the ninety mile trip into two and a half hours or even three.  Today, if conditions held, we should make the trip in less than two hours.

Across the Kenai River Bridge in Soldotna we passed the high school where Onie and I swam last summer.  Just past it the driver pointed out to David where a moose had been hit and killed, last year.  It was a way of asking his help in keeping a sharp lookout for moose feeding next to or crossing the road.  Moose moms never have taught their offspring to look both ways before crossing the road and as a result a moose will step out into moving traffic without regard to speed of the oncoming vehicle.  Failing to keep a sharp lookout can result in disaster for both moose and driver.  The admonition was also meant to keep David alert so he would hold a conversation with the driver and not let him fall asleep.  The Blomstrom family is so notorious for falling asleep at the wheel that a Texas Band was named after them.

Wide eyed and bushy tailed David kept a weather eye to the road and rights of way.  Halfway to Homer he spotted a moose statute, we thought.  A lone moose cow was standing on a gravel pile, watching the road, stock still.  For an instant we thought it might be a wood carving but then the Pinocchio moose moved its head.  It was real.

Farther along bald eagles aloft drifted over the road on the early morning thermal currents.

Early morning descents into Homer are always impressive and sometimes spectacular.  This morning it was very impressive as David looked down from the hill we had crested just before starting down.  In the distance the lights of “The Spit” shone against the backdrop of gray mountains.  The sun was just striking the tops and the snow glinted brightly in contrast to the diminutive manmade lumens.

The public parking lot in Homer was only partially full when we arrived at six.

By six fifteen we had donned our boots, gotten the cooler, backpack and heavy coats, headed for the Tomahawk, met Greg and boarded.

Greg had us fill out the fisherman log book, for Alaska Department of Fisheries, ADF, and offered everyone an opportunity to buy Halibut derby tickets.  The Derby is an event sponsored by the Homer Chamber of Commerce where participants buy a “derby ticket” for ten dollars per day.  At the end of each month a cash prize is given for the largest fish.  At the end of the vacation season a cash prize is given for the largest halibut caught all summer.  In addition money is given for the second largest fish.  Excess money is kept by the Chamber for community activities.  Many fishing ports have derbies.   

Greg cast off the mooring lines at seven, maneuvered us out of the slip, idled out into the channel and past the breakwater where he opened the throttles on the twin four cylinder Yabmar diesels.  The Tomahawk quickly reached her cruising speed of twenty two miles and hour.  At eleven gallons an hour we would burn sixteen and a half gallons before we reached our fishing spot.

By the time we reached open water the writer had found the vee bunks up forward and slipped into a light slumber.  The two to three foot waves did little to disturb him.  In the abin David visited with the other fishermen on board before he found a comfortable corner on the couch and fell asleep.

The anchor was slipped from its resting place just before nine.  To our left was Elizabeth Island and aft, far distant Augustine appeared to rise from the water, her head bathed in clouds.  To our right the sea stretched, unbroken, to the horizon.  The seas, still two to three feet gently rocked the boat as she swung to her anchor.

Lines were readied, Greg had no deck hand so he did all the honors himself, and baited and by nine thirty the last hook, line and three pound sinker had reached the bottom one hundred forty feet beneath our feet.  If we had to walk home it would be a long wet walk.

There was no shortage of bites or fish.  Almost as soon as the terminal tackle reached the bottom the familiar tap-tap of a halibut bite was felt, soon followed by the steady persistent downward tug of the fish.  With the tug we knew the fish was most likely hooked so the rod end was lifted and then a short jerk given before we began the task of reeling up thirty to thirty five pounds of unwilling halibut along with the three pound weight.  Several fish later David felt compelled to take a short rest but loving to fish as he does he was soon back at the rail waiting for his next fish.

By eleven we had decided that the fish we were catching were clones as their weight was so close together as was their appearance.  All of them had two eyes on one side of their body, were brown on top and white on the bottom.  They had to be clones.  Realizing we had happened onto some mad scientist fish farm we decided to keep two clones, apiece.  We had our limit but some on board did not so David fished on to help the less adept.  The writer sought the cabin and cooler where sausage and a cold biscuit waited.  Later David found his Subway sandwich and enjoyed it while he took another breather.  By the time we finished fishing we had each caught about a dozen fish and released ten of them.  It had been cold and cloudy but the little wind that had been with us in the A.M. had subsided by the P.M.

The anchor was hoisted at one thirty and we began our journey back home.  The rain that had stayed in the clouds all day now began to fall but as it fell it seemed to flatten the already calm seas.  With barely a chop on the water, but lots of kelp, we slid over the water and into homer small boat harbor arriving just after three thirty.

The fish were laid out on the deck for pictures before they were loaded and taken to Buttwhackers.

David opted to have his fish processed, packaged, frozen and shipped by Coal Point Seafood while the writer opted to take his back to the coach for processing, packaging and freezing.

The drive home was made in rain and fifty degree temperature.  We arrived at seven thirty.

We had stopped at Freddies to buy a block of ice for the fish in the cooler.  Processing them would have to wait for the morrow as the driver/writer was worn out.  David helped unload the car and then we both headed off to the showers.

Returning to the coach a salad was made while David checked the web to see what had transpired in the market while we were fishing.

Supper was salad, smoked brisket, rice and asparagus.  It was noted that the fudge that Onie made before leaving is evaporating from its container.  I told David he needed to be sure the top was tightly closed to prevent such loss.  He said he would do better in the future.

David caught up on some reading while the dishes were being cleaned up.

His reading continued while the bedroom TV entertained me with a little Tru TV before I switched over to the Civil War Journals on the VCR.

His light went off at eleven and mine at twelve.

June 28, 2008

Saturday

CULTURAL SHOCK A LA HOBO JIM

David was up at seven and got the coffee brewing.  Yours truly joined him at eight, to brew tea and fix some walnut buckwheat cakes and heat up some ham.  Onie wasn’t here to feed us but so far we showed no lack of starvation.  The breakfast dishes were done and a little housekeeping took place before it was time to process the halibut.

The halibut had been filleted at Buttwhacers but still had the skin on so it was off to the cleaning table, in the rain, down on the grate.  There we had a good stainless table setting on an expanded metal grate with a water hose right at hand.  There were no worries about getting messy or getting fishy water on the floor or down the front of the cabinetry.  With the aid of a good sharp filet knife, a pair of skinning pliers and some tugging with fingers the skin was removed.  The fish rinsed and cut into meal size portions and dropped into a five gallon bucket for transport back to the coach.  There it was blotted dry, wrapped in Saran Wrap and sealed with the Food Saver.  A couple of hours after I had started, the job was finished.  Then the kitchen was cleaned, again.  Onie sure was missed!

The continuing rain and all the exertion convinced the writer that the day had been made for a nap.  He succumbed to the urge and slept for a couple of hours.  Hunger woke him.

David had yet to sample the cuisine at our favorite Chinese restaurant so we set off, in the rain, for supper there.

BJ’s Bar in sparkling downtown Soldotna features, from time to time, a local legend, known as Hobo Jim.  Hobo, as he is affectionately known to locals, has led a very interesting life having worked on a cattle ranch near Anchor River, many years ago, when open range was still the law of the land in Alaska.  The ranch, at its peak, had seventy head of cattle.  One can only imagine the feeding chores in winter.  He built his own log cabin, homesteaded his own land and raised his children there.  He has also worked on a crab boat that was featured in the Discovery Channel special on “The Most Dangerous Catch”.  He is a musician, song writer, poet and repository of Alaskan lore.  Tonight he was in rare form as he told about his new song, to be introduced in August at the Alaskan State Fair.  It is to commemorate their fiftieth anniversary as a state and he was asked personally by the governor to write the song.

He also delved into politics and the way most Alaskans feel about things in Washington, D.C., the Supreme Court in particular and courts in general.  David, although he comes from conservative Fort Bend County, was taken aback and must have suffered some cultural shock as he listened to Hobo say that the four dissenting Supreme Court judges who opposed people in D.C. having the right to firearms were tantamount to traitors and as such should be hung.  He elaborated by saying that their job is to enforce the Constitution, not rewrite it.  The crowd roared approval.  He then went on to the Alaskan belief that Alaska lands belong to Alaskans and if they want to drill for oil in ANWR, and they do, the federal government should butt out.  More roars of approval came from the crowd.  Freedom of speech is dead in the contiguous forty eight states but it lives on in Alaska, at least for now.  He also opined as how men who rape children should be executed; more approval.  We stayed until the place closed and heard many more expressions of disapproval of the current state of affairs with our government in general and courts in particular.  David, I think, was disturbed by such talk but it was obvious that the Alaskans were of one accord and the writer agrees with them.

Later, driving home, David expressed his opinion that the Supreme Court judges were only exercising their right to freedom of speech.  He is enjoying his visit but tonight he may have been a bit out of his comfort zone.  On the other hand he had no trouble going to sleep when we got home so perhaps I misread him.

June 29, 2008

Sunday

FAN SKIP BO

Even though we got in late last night we rose earlier enough to have some coffee and tea along with a muffin before heading off to church.  David had risen early to shower and shave.  Shaving hasn’t been something the writer has had to endure for many a year but he did get a quick shower.

When we left for church at quarter to eleven it was cloudy and cool at fifty degrees.

After church it still hadn’t warmed up and the clouds lingered as we made our way back to the coach. 

In the coach we heated up the coffee and tea before settling down to read the Sunday paper.

When the paper had been digested David opted for a nap while the writer made a few notes.  Without notes it would be impossible to keep the days straight and the details clear; however, some folks think the details aren’t clear even with the notes.

The awning had been in for a few days but it was decided to put it back out.  As the process was taking place rain began to fall but the job was completed anyway.

Maintaining plenty of fresh water in the holding tank and keeping the gray and black water tanks empty requires regular attention.  Today was a day that required attention in that area.  Kurt’s four-wheeler was hooked up to the honey wagon and the dumping process began.  While I was taking care of that David tended the hose bringing fresh water to us.

The cooler which had been taken on the halibut trip was taken to the river and washed and set out to sun and dry.  Yes, it was raining but at some point it would quit and the low humidity and sun would take over.  It would dry and be sweet smelling by this time tomorrow.

The sound of a Cummins idling into the park announced the arrival of our friends, Bonnie and Duaine Griggs.  We had been expecting them a little later but here they were.  Pretty much everyone in camp turned out to greet them and welcome them to our and their summer home.  Half an hour later they were able to start settling in as folks drifted back to their rigs to spend a quiet Sunday afternoon.

David and I went back into the coach where we enjoyed the quiet and some ice cream, Neapolitan for him and Rocky Road for me.  David assured me that everyone he knows eats ice cream on Sunday afternoon and any ice cream eaten on Sunday does not add to the waistline nor does it affect the bathroom scales.  He is my older brother and has never lied to me, yet, so I know this is a fact.  Even so I only ate a pint.  He and the Lord knows how much he ate.

After the ice cream social David sat at the laptop and checked his email while the writer talked to grandson Colby, and to Onie.

When the sun was dropping behind the hill our appetites returned.  The charcoal grill was fired up and then a salad was made.  While the steaks seared on the grill we ate the salad.  The steaks came in still smoking from the heat and David swore mine moved just a bit as I cut into it.  This was more cultural shock and it became even worse when it was explained that eating a steak that didn’t fight back just a little wasn’t much fun.

The dishes were washed and stored before Sidney and Barbara came over at eight thirty to play Skip-Bo.

David had never played Skip-Bo before but caught on very quickly.  For those of you who don’t play, Skip-Bo is a game involving numbers and strategy.  David was born with numbers in his head and he soon had the game down, pat.  Four hours later he was going strong and would have played all night, I think, if the rest of us hadn’t been too tired.  Another fan of Skip-Bo had been made.

We bade Sidney and Barbara goodnight, early in the morning of the thirtieth.  Then we went to bed.