July 28, 2008

Monday

A FISHING WE GO

Both alarms went off and we were up at three.  Outside fog hung over us like a pall but at least it had kept a little heat on the ground.  It was thirty nine.

We dressed in a hurry and then sat down to a light breakfast, milk and Cheerios.

Just three minutes off target we were in the car and ready to leave at three thirty three.  We stopped to get Ed and were on our way.  Ground fog, patchy but in some places very dense, kept the driver on his toes and ever vigilant for moose lurking on the side of the road.  Moose neither look nor listen before walking or running onto the road and the darkness and fog make them hard to see.  In addition their eyes do not reflect light so it is possible to be right on one with no chance to stop if visibility is poor or one is simply not paying attention.

Dawn and Colby had a lot of faith in the driver as they napped a great deal of the way.  Ed provided company as he and the driver talked about Minnesota and Texas.

Halfway to Homer Ed and I saw a cow moose and her calf, five feet off the roadway, grazing in the ditch.  We eased by hoping they would not decide at that instant that the browse looked better on the far side of the road.

Dawn and Colby have read stories about razor clamming at Ninilchik so we made a quick detour to have a look at the clamming site before heading on to Homer.

Most mornings the appearance of Homer and the mountains beyond is one of breath-taking beauty and can be described as absolutely spectacular.  This morning was an exception.  As we topped the last hill before beginning the descent into Homer and onto the Spit we were greeted by an oddly beautiful site.  Homer and the Spit lay under a thick white fog bank.  Not one house, not one building, not one light could be seen.  In fact the entire area was one large fog bank.  Even Katchemak Bay was covered.  It would be a trip out on GPS and radar.

Inside the fog bank we stopped at Safeway at five twenty for coffee and Chai tea.

With warm drinks in hand we began the last part of the drive out to the parking lot on the Spit.  Once there we donned our boots, picked up cameras, the backpacks and lunch bag and headed for the Solitude,

The crew, Larry, Larry Jr. and eight year old Teddy were on board and ready to get underway as soon as we had stored our gear.  At six Larry pulled out of the slip and began taking the Solitude out of the harbor. As one would expect there was almost no wind movement inside the dense fog bank and the sea was as calm as a bathtub. 

The driver, no longer looking for moose, went forward, covered up with some sleeping bags and was soon getting some much needed rest.  The rest of the group lounged in the cabin, forgoing the comfort of available bunks, and dozed as Larry guided the boat toward the fishing grounds.

The change in the rhythm of the engine woke the writer.  We were slowing down.  That could only mean it was time to get ready to fish. 

With the anchor holding fast and lines rigged and baited it was time to start fishing.  It was eight o’clock.  While we had run out from under the fog the wind was still very light and the presence of the sun had raised the temp to forty one.

The bite was a little slow in coming at first and it was some twenty minutes before yours truly brought the first fish aboard, a thirty pounder.  He was quickly unhooked and sent back to grow up.  Not too much later a better, stronger bite was felt.  The writer waited while the fish ate.  When the fish had the bait well into his mouth the writer lifted the end of his fishing rod and felt the steady downward pull of a fish that had been hooked.  Reeling down and then picking up a bit more quickly the fish was now firmly hooked, and knew it.  He took off.  Line spun off the reel as the fish, taking advantage of a strong running tide, took off for Hawaii.  A hundred or two hundred feet later he changed his mind as the drag on the reel took its toll of his energy.  With the run over the task of retrieving the line and the fish at the end of it began.  It was an uneven struggle as the fish had many fewer birthdays than the fisherman but the fisherman probably had a harder head.  Many minutes later we got our first glimpse to the fish and he of us.  Apparently we are a scary looking lot for he headed back to the deep.  More reeling brought him back to the boat and soon to the gaff.

On board Larry bonked him and then took a measure of him.  He announced the fish was ninety pounds.

Interest on board heightened as all hands began hoping and fishing for bigger fish.  Colby was among those being very attentive to his line when he noticed the tell-tale peck-peck of a halibut bite.  He waited, letting the fish eat, until he felt the steady downward tug then he lifted and reeled.  The fish was there and he began trying to bring him up.  The fish wasn’t too cooperative but eventually Colby had him along side where he was gaffed and brought on board.  Before placing him in the fish box Larry said the fish weighed seventy pounds.  We were on a roll.

Speaking of rolls, the slight swell had been increasing ever so slightly and now was about a foot, just enough to give those so inclined a good case of sea sickness.  Ed had hooked a halibut and was bringing him in when the waves of nausea overtook him.  He relinquished the rod to Larry, Jr. and went below to the head, a real mistake.  He was to remain there for over an hour.  Topside and in the fresh air would have been a better choice for him but no one wanted to go below and try to coax him on deck.

In the meantime Larry, Jr. was working on bringing in Ed’s fish.  Teddy, Larry, Jr.’s younger brother had been active all morning, being in and out of the cabin, up to the flying bridge, on the fishing deck trying to catch a silver and in general being a live wire and full of comments as we fished.  Now with Larry, Jr. bringing a halibut to bay, Teddy, with a big grin on his face, asked Larry, Jr. if he was a “sissy girl” and needed some help landing the fish.  Those of us within earshot almost doubled over with laughter.

We had started fishing with two pound weights and were still able to hold the bottom even though the tide was picking up speed as the ebb hastened.  It was while we still had on the two pound weights that Dawn caught her first halibut.

Dawn with Larry, Sr., holding fish with gaff.

With a quickening tide we switched to three pound weights.  Dropping these suckers to the bottom was easy.  Reeling them up two hundred feet was not but from time to time we did, to check our bait.

The freshening breeze was causing the swells to swell but it was still very comfortable, for most of us.  Teddy strode the deck like a pirate captain and wise cracked as his brother worked.  It was at this point that the writer determined that the exchanges between the boys were worth the price of the trip.

With a faster running tide the bite slowed but we were still hooking and landing fish in the twenty to forty-five pound range.

During this time it looked like Colby had hooked into another good halibut.  That is it looked good until we noticed that the normal head shake of the halibut was missing.  What was there was the steady resistance or pull of what was probably a large skate.  It was.

As if that was a signal the catch slowed down.  The fast running tide also began to slow and we knew it wouldn’t be long before we had a slack tide and then it would change to incoming.  That would signal the beginning of a time certain when fishing for us would end as the incoming tide would soon be too swift to allow a bait to be put on the bottom and not reaching the bottom means not reaching the halibut.

With the tide change the bite began picking up again as the incoming tide brought fresh bait fish for the halibut and set them back in the mood to eat and bite, octopus and herring.  We baited with both and waited for the next big fish.  We were going to be picky as we were down to the last two fish for the boat.

Colby hung into another big sea dweller.  Unfortunately the head shake was missing, again.  When the skate was brought alongside it was bigger than the first one.  It had taken its toll on Colby’s waning energy and he retired to the cabin and lunch and munchies.  It was the third skate of the day as I had cranked one of the unwilling monsters in a little earlier.

Teddy never ran out of energy.  We were now down to our last fish of the day and he was standing at the aft rail with his abbreviated fishing rod.  He watched, as did I, as the rod tip twitched, danced, bent and then took a sharp dive.  Just as father would do he waited and then lifted and reeled down.  When he felt the tremendous tug on the other end of the line he gave a shout of glee and began battling the fish.  A couple of minutes later Dad showed up and told him it was a great fish and we couldn’t take a chance on losing it.  Dad took the rod and Teddy stood and watched while Dad fought and landed the last fish of the day, a fifty five pounder.  Teddy grinned as though he had done it himself and in fact he had landed a hundred pound halibut the week before when fishing with his family.  He is one tough little guy and a real joy to be around.  He also looks just like his brother when his brother was that age.

With the fish gaffed and on board he still needed to be bonked and Teddy asked for the job.  Dad said okay.  Teddy took the bonker, knelt on the deck next to the fish, looked at it, grinned and said “welcome to the house of pain” and began whaling away on the fish.  You would have had to be there to appreciate it as it doesn’t do justice to put it in writing but it was another time when he doubled us over with laughter.

Teddy bonking fish

With the last fish on board the engine was started, the anchor hoisted and we headed for Homer.  It was one thirty.  We had had a big fun day fishing but now we were leaving the mountains behind.

Dawn and Colby. Great day out in Gulf of Alaska.

Our day’s work was done but Larry, Jr. and Teddy still had work to do.  They got the fish out of the box and laid them on deck to wash them down with sea water before the filleting was started.

Teddy with halibut catch. 

While Larry, Jr. wielded the knife Teddy took each filet, washed it and bagged it.

Larry, Jr., filleting halibut.

Teddy bagging fish.

While progress was taking place on the fishing deck, the fishermen were making progress in the cabin with lunches and snacks.

When appetites were calmed, the fishermen turned diners became sleepers.

At three thirty Larry spun the Solitude on her axis and eased her back into her slip.  Larry, Jr. jumped overboard onto the dock and secured the mooring lines.  Dad Larry shut off the fuel to the twin Cummins and they fell quiet.  The trip was at an end.

The guys from Coal Point Processing showed up and took Dawn’s, Colby’s, Ed’s and my fish up the ramp and to the catch intake station.  It was weighed there.  We had one hundred forty pounds of filets.  Even though Ed had been unable to fish we divided the fish equally.  Ed and I left our fish for further processing and freezing.  Kurt would pick them up for us in two days when he comes down to fish with Larry.

At four ten we got on the road to Soldotna and Custom Seafood, arriving at five fifty, where we dropped off Dawn and Colby’s fish for processing and freezing.  The driver waited in the car while Dawn checked the fish in.

We coasted to a stop in front of the Marlin at six fifteen.

Kurt was hosting a prime rib supper on the deck.  Unclean and unshaven we went to eat.

We went to the coach at seven thirty where, unable to forget fishing, we picked up our rods and headed for the grate.  The fish were most uncooperative so before long we headed back to the coach, empty handed.

Hot showers felt great and put us in the mood to recount the events of the day for Onie.

When the stories had been told and the tales spun we readied ourselves for sleep.  It was ten o’clock.

Onie got a movie on the bedroom TV and she watched it while I dozed.  At eleven we gave up and went to sleep.

July 29, 2008

Tuesday

ON THE ROCKS

The summer that had been missing in action for so long it seemed like it was making one last desperate effort to make a showing. 

When Dawn rose at nine it was sunny and warm.  When Onie rose at ten it was sunny and warmer.  When the writer rose at eleven it was sunny and hot, maybe sixty five.

Onie had made coffee and tea.  With a cup of tea near at hand yours truly sat down at his laptop and began pecking out, something.   Onie and Dawn visited.

The sun was cooking the outside of the coach and the inside was warming up past the comfort level so the door was opened and windows opened wide.  Even the breeze blowing through was warm.

Dawn made her was to the shower in the lodge while Onie checked for tours, online, and the writer kept pecking away.

Appetites were making themselves known so Onie left the www for her kitchen.  There she whipped up some biscuits and bacon, for brunch.

Outside the sun shone brightly bringing even warmer temps.

With brunch under our belts it was time to return to the tour making business.  Onie had found a glacier tour as well as a train trip from Anchorage to Talkeetna.  With those plans confirmed a call was placed to our ophthalmologist in Sugar Land to order some contacts for me.

Onie had been promised venison spaghetti sauce for some time now.  Today was time to deliver.  Bell pepper and onion was laid out along with a knife and the chopping board.  Onie began preparing these for me as the herbs and spices were collected.  The venison burger was browned, in olive oil, the onions sautéed and then placed in the burger, and then tomato sauce and diced tomatoes were added.  Fresh basil, from our plant on the dashboard, was crushed and added along with some other herbs, spices, sea salt and black pepper.  The concoction was set over a simmering fire and left for almost an hour before it was removed from the heat and left to age.  After it cooled for a few hours it would be placed in the refrigerator. 

With this culinary creation completed, preparation was made to go down river with Kurt, Crista, Marky and Ted.

When we arrived down river it was fish on the rocks.  Within twenty minutes the writer had three reds on his stringer.  His fishing for the day was over.  The girls weren’t having so much luck so the writer leaned against the bank and offered encouragement and instruction.  When attention was paid to his sage advice, fish were caught.  When his imploring was ignored the fish passed by, untouched.  No doubt, youth invented arrogance; and impatience.  Perseverance and patience paid off for the writer as he coaxed the younger set into catching their limits.

Back at the coach Dawn and Onie had fetched firewood and had a fire going in the fire ring.  The fisherman, home from the fish wars, drew near the fire and warmed his cold feet and what was left of his hands.  A great portion of his hands had been left down river with the Alaska state bird, the mosquito.

Venison burgers were on the evening menu so the grill was cleaned, fresh mesquite charcoal lit up and left to burn to a bright red.   Unoccupied for the moment the writer sat and visited with Onie, Colby and Dawn then it was back to the grill to start the burgers for supper.  Once the body temperature had been restored to the venison it was placed on the heated buns and given to the waiting carnivores.  Mustard, onion, tomato and lettuce were added as well as a few jalapeños and the perfect burger had been created.

With the campfire being tended by Dawn and Colby it blazed merrily, waiting for the introduction marshmallows, to be roasted for dessert.  

With Colby, Dawn and Onie all engrossed in the marshmallow roasting business the cook became the filleter as he slipped off to the grate to tend to the day’s catch of fish.

When the filets were separated from the rest of the fish and placed in the cooler with a bag of ice the filleter went back to the fire.

Colby went up the hill, via the Subaru, at midnight.

The rest of us stayed at the campfire until twelve thirty and were in our beds by one.

July 30, 2008

Wednesday

ONIE AND ME

The coffee had finished brewing by nine and the tea had steeped by nine thirty.

With her first cup of coffee downed Dawn headed off to shower.

While she was gone the tea sipper got up and mixed up a batch of blueberry buckwheat pancakes.  Onie started preparing the bacon and when Dawn returned from the shower we had our first meal of the day, at noon.

This summer it has been rare when Onie and I could spend time alone but this afternoon was one such time.  Dawn was in the coach reading and Colby was still sleeping up on the hill, in David’s cabin.

Onie and me set off in Kurt’s boat, down river.  Two miles down the river the boat was eased up against a bank and Onie climbed overboard and tied it up.  She and I got our rods, our bucket and a net, walked down a gravel bar and started fishing.  Oh, there were lots of fish and lots of hookups.  Many of the hookups ended with a quick release and some were foul hooks that resulted in throwbacks.  After a while the writer had two small reds as well as one medium sized one.  Onie, in usual form, saved the day with three big buck reds.  It had been three hours since we had arrived on the gravel bar where we had waded, sometimes ankle deep and sometimes thigh deep, but we had hooked a lot of fish, we had landed several and had strung our limit.  It had been a wonderful afternoon with my bride but all good things must end and we headed back to the camp where the fish were filleted.

Onie and Dawn took the fillets to Custom and then swung by Safeway where they checked out the weekly specials.

Colby was up now and headed down to the grate to try his hand at catching a red.  While he was there I was busy removing the ribs from yesterday’s fish.  It had been too dark last night to see to do this part of the filleting job.  When the ribs were removed the fish were cut for smoking and then I sat down to watch the action on the grate.

While the writer was resting Kurt and his group returned from their halibut trip.  It had been a complete blowout.  Before the trip was over they had endured thirty eight mile an hour wind and eight foot seas.  No one had gotten seasick but they were all sick over the puny catch.  Due to the weather they had only managed a few small fish.  The trip Dawn, Colby and I had was far more successful.  Kurt had picked up the halibut that I had left at Coal Point on Monday.  Now he brought it over to the Marlin.

Inside the coach I opened the freezer and began rearranging the contents so we could make room for the thirty eight pounds of processed and frozen, halibut. Just as the last package of fish was placed in the freezer, Dawn and Onie returned from Soldotna.

At seven the spaghetti sauce along with pasta and salad was placed on our table.  Supper was served.  Onie had also made some garlic bread.  When everyone had eaten enough to ensure indigestion we pushed back from the table and pronounced supper, over.

We visited a while before Colby headed up the hill to his bed.

A short time after the lights went out in the Marlin.  The sounds of deep sleep could be heard shortly thereafter.

July 31, 2008

Thursday

GLACIER TOUR

It promised to be a long day when we rose at six thirty.  Outside the sun was shining brightly through an atmosphere already heated to a warm comfortable level.

We had slept with the windows open and the fan running, just as the night before, and the warm air was circulating throughout the coach.

With such warm conditions, sixty five inside, it was no problem to get out of bed when the alarm sounded at six thirty.

The coffee and tea were brewed and then we sat down to oatmeal and sausage.

With breakfast behind us we started the fish and bellies in the brine, preparatory to air drying them and then smoking them.  The air drying will take place tonight and the smoking tomorrow.

Colby and Dawn ate while Onie completed the kitchen detail and I put a few things in the toad then it was on the road again at twenty minutes to nine.

The drive to Seward promised to be a pretty one as it was clear and sunny.  On the way Onie kept a sharp eye out for animals but spotted none.  Dawn and Colby checked their eyelids for leaks as we motored along.

With our arrival in Seward at ten thirty Dawn and Colby woke.  We parked and walked to the Renown Tours office where we checked in, got our boarding passes and meal chits and then wandered around a little while we waited for boarding time, at eleven.  During our wanderings we stumbled on a latte and Chai tea shop where we indulged our thirsts and snapped a couple of pictures.

Near eleven we walked down the pier and stood patiently in line to board.  We were welcomed aboard by a crew member and a park ranger.  The ranger was on board to provide narration and information about the birds, animals and glaciers we were to see as well as to provide local lore about some of the early inhabitants of the area.

On board we found comfortable seats on the port side, forward, and prepared for departure, at eleven thirty.  Eleven thirty came and went but we didn’t go.  We were still tied up to the floating dock and several minutes later we were still tied up.  Just when we were wondering if we were going to leave the captain came on the P.A. system and explained the delay; the three million dollar craft and our tour had been delayed by a bad battery connection.  The connection had been made good and the twin Japanese diesel engines roared to life.  Shore lines were cast off and we were underway.  It was a quarter of twelve.

Since there had been a delay in our departure the crew announced lunch would be served, forthwith, beginning with the main deck.  That was us.  We lined up and got our basket lunch; a bagel, smoked salmon with the skin on, cream cheese and cheddar cheese, a soft drink, an oatmeal cookie and an apple.  Onie got a chocolate chip cookie.  The oatmeal was better.  Bon Appetit!

Water in protected harbors is almost always smooth.  If it is not it is best not to venture out into the open sea.  Today the harbor water was calm.  A little further out a swell began to make itself felt even though it was only a foot or foot and a half high.  Some folks on board began to turn funny colors but none of our group was among them.

Soon we were approaching a rookery where thousands of terns, puffins and other sea birds were living, nesting and raising young.  The din for their cries was deafening and although the birds were beautiful and fun to watch we were glad when the captain eased the boat away from the island housing the birds and headed on toward glaciers.

Soon the on-board ranger pointed out Bear and other glaciers that were in the distance.  As she talked she segued into a spiel about Kenai Fjords National Park and how it is the duty of the park service to preserve it for future generations.  It crossed my mind that the park service is saving millions of acres for future generations and even wants to limit access to some of those parks for those of us living now as if those to follow us will be more deserving of seeing and using the parks than are we.  It seems to me that bureaucrats will go to any length and tell any lie necessary to preserve their domain and jobs.

Next we got to see sea lions.

The males act like part of human society, laying around, eating, fighting over females and then leaving the females once the females are pregnant.  If this calls a particular class of people to mind, blame them, or yourself, for such thoughts but certainly not the writer as he only reports what he sees, in humans and other animals.

Holgate Glacier was our next scheduled stop but because a cruise ship and two tour boats had beat us to the entrance to the bay where the tidal glacier meets the water we passed on by.  In the distance we could see the thousand feet tall and three mile wide glacier.

The captain was taking us to Aialik Glacier.

Entering the bay where this glacier met the sea we passed a gravel bar on which stood two tents belonging to kayakers who were paddling back from a close encounter with the glacier.  From what we saw it appeared they might be approaching another kind of close encounter.  Near their tents two black bears roamed.  Were they looking for fish, for camping food or perhaps a tender kayaker morsel to dine on for dinner?  We would never know as the captain soon moved the boat on toward Aialik Glacier.

Half a mile from the mile-wide three hundred foot high hunk of ice the boat came to a rest and the engines were shut down.  The curious scrambled on to the open decks to watch the glacier calve and then wait for the thunder clap generated by thousands of pounds of ice as it split and fell into the ocean.

Dawn and Colby were among those who were awe struck by this continuing phenomenon as time after time the slow moving glacier cracked apart and dropped the massive pieces of compacted snow and ice into the waiting water.

Its not that Onie and I are so jaundiced as to be uninterested in what was taking place but there were lots of folks on board who had never seen such a spectacle and we were content to wait our turn on deck.

All too soon our time watching ice floes being born had vanished.  It had fallen away like the ice falling from the mammoth ice flowing into the sea.

The engines were started and we headed for Seward and the toad.

And yet our adventure wasn’t quite over.  The captain announced he still had fifteen minutes in his pocket and he meant to spend them looking for whales, humpbacks to be specific.  Using his radio he found a cruise boat, ahead of us, that was hove to watching two humpbacks.  He made straight for them.  Before long the spume from a blowing whale was seen on the distant horizon and as we drew nearer one could see the flukes as the whale made a deep dive.  Humpies can stay down several minutes, they have lungs the size of a Volkswagen Beetle, but after a while another whale, perhaps the same, was seen blowing.  We watched for several minutes as the whales blew, coasted along just under the surface, dorsal fins cutting the water, and then dove only to resurface nearby. 

When the fifteen minutes had been spent we headed on toward Seward, once again.

On the way in we passed Fox Island, named for the fox farm that was once there.  An eccentric artist had once lived there and his time spent there inspired him to write poems that made him famous and memorable to all but the writer who can’t recall his name.

We were due back in Seward at five thirty and were just five minutes late.

After gathering our belongings we debarked and headed off to some local souvenir shops.  We found nothing to cause us to part with our money so we headed on to the toad.

Colby, PawPaw, and Dawn after leaving the Glacier Express.

Coming in we had seen a rather neat waterfall.  Now we headed off to have a closer look.  Near the fall we stopped the toad and Dawn got out to take a picture.

Around six we pointed the hood of the Subaru toward the road that would take us back to Sterling and the coach.

Fatigue was taking a toll on the driver so he stopped at Cooper Landing for a coke which he shared with the navigator.  Colby and Dawn got some snacks and a soft drink.

The Russian River was just a short jaunt down the road.  Passing this favorite fishing spot of folks and bears we saw a couple of the later.  We parked the car and hurried to the river side to view two black bears on the far side of the river.

These black bears were excellent fishers and it was rare that they entered the water that they didn’t come out with a salmon which they promptly took into the bushes where they ate it before returning to catch another one.  When it looked like one of the bears might be interested in swimming the river, which would put him on our side, we decided it was time to get back on the road.

Interest in wildlife viewing had been greatly enhanced, watching the bears.  Now, as we motored on toward the Marlin, four sets of eyes scanned every hillside, ditch and valley for more wildlife.  Their watchfulness was rewarded as we neared Castaway.  Just a mile or so from the coach, in the ditch on the left hand side of the road, stood a cow moose and her calf.

They were content to let us watch them as they grazed on willow brush, sweeping the leaves off the stems with their big lips and strong teeth.  After all cameras had had their shutters flicked many times we resumed our trip homeward.

We arrived back at the Marlin at eight fifteen where Onie and I had some snacks.

Colby headed off to visit Crista and Marky and Dawn went to visit with Kurt.

The day had begun with us putting fish in brine, as the first step in making smoked fish.

Now the fish were removed from the brine solution, rinsed and placed on racks on top of a freezer in Kurt’s storage building.  Seasonings were sprinkled on the pieces of fish and then a fan was directed toward the fish, turned on and left to air dry the fish.

Apparently the day hadn’t been long enough for the driver for he headed off to the grate where he made three hundred cast before heading back to the coach and then on to Kurt’s to get the boat motor key.  This would enable us to go down the river in Kurt’s absence.  Onie, Sidney, Barbara and I plan to go down the river tomorrow to get some reds.

Back at the laptop at eleven some notes were tapped in before the writer sought the bed at midnight.

Dawn and Colby were still up when the writer dozed off.

Outside it was warm, fifty five, and inside Onie had the air conditioning fan running as well as her little bedside fan.  There would be no heavy cover tonight.

August 1, 2008

Friday

SMOKING GOOD TIME

Today was a smokin’ good time.

We rose at ten and promptly got the fish off the drying racks, placed in my and Kurt’s smoker.  Kurt’s is a high tech unit and one only needs program it and forget it.  Ours is low tech and requires some tending which was done as the temperature started to build inside of it.

While the smoker was coming up to smoking temperature, one hundred forty to one hundred sixty, Bill Hager called to get confirmation on directions to Castaway.  We were still talking when he lost his signal.  From the landscape he had described, the writer figured he would be in camp by two o’clock unless he stopped along the way.

Onie and Dawn had breakfast while yours truly was getting the smoking started and talking to Bell.  Now that it was noon it was his turn to eat.

With breakfast behind me and both smokers holding a steady one hundred sixty degree temperature and emitting a wonderful smell the writer set about filling the fresh water tank.  When the fresh water tank goes empty it means it is also time to empty the holding tanks so while fresh water flowed in,a black and gray water was pumped out.  The pumping process usually takes bout half an hour but today something went wrong.  The pump quit in mid-stride and unfortunately it took the writer half an hour, with Sidney’s help, to discover there were two fuses, not one, in the circuit. Once the blown fuse was replaced the pumping resumed and was completed without further incident.

Sidney was mowing so our furniture was moved under our awning to make his job less difficult.

Crista, Markey and Paul were all anxious to go down the river and try for some reds.  Kurt was tired and not up to taking the young folks on the trip which could be extended if

the fish didn’t cooperate.  He volunteered to watch the fish in the smokers while I took the kids down to the fish.

Colby anxiously joined us on our jaunt down river.  We were down on the gravel bar four hours before we decided to return home with ten reds, not quite a limit but still a good catch.

The writer filleted his and Colby’s fish and headed off to Custom to check them in.

Paul and company had ordered pizza and invited an eager Colby to join them.  The pizza was picked up when we dropped off the fish.

Back at the house the kids gathered at Kurt’s and dove into the three pizzas they had bought.

The writer joined Onie in the Marlin for salad and venison spaghetti sauce and whole wheat pasta.  He did save room for one slice of pizza which he claimed after he and Onie finished supper.

Returning to the coach he once again joined Onie and they retired at twelve.

August 2, 2008

Saturday

TOM’S HOLE

Since we retired our mornings have been slow.  Some are slower than others.  This was a welcomed change, the slow mornings, for Onie, but for me it was just a continuation of a life of late morning rising and late night bed or early morning bed time, whichever you prefer.

In the grand tradition of late risers, and most Blomstroms are, we rose at eleven, rested and ready for another big day.

Our days almost always start with coffee and tea and if we want a really good start for the day Onie makes biscuits.  Anything can be added to biscuits to make a perfect breakfast.  This morning it was eggs combined with onion, bacon bits, ham and smoked turkey.  When Patty’s figs were added to the mix the result was sublime.  A fruit medley was simply a bit of gilding the lily.  By the time the four of us--Dawn, Colby, Onie and me--were full, the table was empty.

The ADFG web site advised us that twenty two thousand fish passed the weir counter yesterday.  That doesn’t constitute great numbers but it is respectable and very fishable.

After breakfast was over Onie and Dawn cleaned the kitchen while Colby and I went down the river with Kurt.

The gravel bar, two miles down river, was crowded so we tied up a little upstream, got our poles, extra tackle and a net and began looking for a place to fish.

What was to become known as “Tom’s Hole” was soon discovered by yours truly.  Just a little cutback in the bank it contained clear water about a foot deep with a bottom made up of sand and small stones.  Immediately down river, just a couple of feet, was a gentle sloping bank, a perfect place for laying netted fish while they were bonked and the hook removed.

This was Colby’s first trip down river and he had been watching as we passed the homes and fishing camps that line both shores, on the way down.  Now that we were at the gravel bar his attention was turned to finding a place to fish.  He and Kurt walked down river a few yards and began fishing but were soon interrupted by a yell for assistance, from the writer.  No, he hadn’t fallen in the river he had hooked a red.  Kurt came running and together they soon had the fish netted, landed, bonked and strung.

Now everyone returned to fishing.  Kurt was soon hooked up and the writer helped him land and string his fish.  Colby fished on, showing a little exasperation from time to time, but still he stayed with the program until he too had a fish.

We stayed a few hours until we each had our limit, then loaded the boat and headed back to Castaway.

The temperature remained cool and when we got back we started a campfire.  Onie and Dawn joined us outside until supper time.

Later we visited a while before Onie and I retired.  Colby and Dawn listened to their little music machine before going to sleep.

August 3, 2008

Sunday

DIFFERENT EGGS BENEDICT

Some things never change or so it seems.  Eggs Benedict is one of those things, always being served the same way, or so we thought. 

Onie and I have had eggs benedict on several different occasions and have served it in our home in Coldspring as well as in the coach.  We think of eggs benedict as an English muffin topped with a slice or two of Canadian bacon with a poached egg resting thereon and the whole drenched in Hollandaise sauce.  This morning at nine, after rising at eight thirty, we learned that eggs benedict may have sockeye salmon substituted for the Canadian bacon.  We were in a cabin at the top of the hill where David Matthew and Jana were staying and we were having breakfast with them.  Jana was presiding at the stove and David was doing the serving chores.  Onie had coffee with her’s and the writer enjoyed Earl Gray tea.

At ten thirty we extended our thanks for the invitation and the good breakfast and went back to the coach to get ready for church.

Just before eleven we seated ourselves in a pew at First Baptist Church, Sterling.

Dawn and Colby stayed in the coach, resting and napping.

After church we headed into Soldotna and gassed up the toad.  Then we stopped to look at trailers as we contemplate buying one to leave at Castaway and fly back and forth instead of driving the coach, every year.

We were back home at one.

By two we had exchanged our Sunday clothes for fishing clothes, and Colby, Sonny and I headed down river.  Over the next three hours we each got our limit of three reds. 

Back on the grate Colby posed for a picture, with our fish.

We filleted our fish and took them to Custom Seafood before returning to the Marlin where the writer made a few notes.

Kurt, Chuck and Colby were all ready to go back down the river at six thirty.  It was cold and cloudy but we braved the threatening rain and headed down any way.

Almost as soon as Kurt and Sonny had their feet on the gravel they had hooked a red and the contest between them was on.  Colby and I netted for them and helped them with their fish.  With light fading at ten we decided to head back to Castaway.  Seven fish had been strung.

When we got back to the coach at ten Dawn, Onie and Nancy were playing dominoes.

Earlier in the day Kurt and I had sent the young folks in to Freddie’s to buy King Crab legs.  They had returned with fifteen pounds.  Now, ten thirty, the Cajun cooker was fired up, water boiled and crab legs heated.  When they were ready I handed them to Kurt and he cut them open and took out the meat while I put more in the water.

The shelled crab joined Onie’s contribution, okra and tomatoes and blueberry cobbler on the picnic table.  Kurt and his guest had never eaten okra and tomatoes but after tasting them they dove in and made themselves proud.  They ate so much one would have thought they were lifetime southerners.  When everyone had their fill of crab and okra and tomatoes Onie began serving the cobbler.

With the last bite of cobbler that we could manage, down the hatch, we took the mostly empty dishes and headed for the Marlin.  It was near twelve.

By twelve we were in bed and nearly asleep.