July 21, 2008

Monday

WHAT A BAD LINE

What is a nice girl like you doing in a place like this was a bad line in my time and still is.  Some days it seems like I have been using bad lines most of my life.  It certainly has seemed that way this summer.  A great number of fish have continued their spawning journey carrying terminal tackle donated by yours truly, the result of a bad line.  Each year, old line is removed from fishing reels and replaced with new thirty pound test.  That was done this year but the line seems to have major flaws in it as it breaks when a good fish is hooked or a bad fish hooked in the wrong way.  Twice the line has been stripped and replaced but each replacement seemed worse than what had been discarded.  Finally a trip was made to the local hardware, Trustworthy, and a new spool of forty pound test monofilament purchased.  The latest line was stripped and the new line spooled on in hopes of better results.

Our day had started at nine with rain and fifty degree temps however we knew it had been forty two at two a.m.  It appeared the rain might be over for a while.

Onie made the coffee and tea before starting the biscuits which she followed with eggs and sausage.  Figs and orange marmalade topped our biscuits when the steaming breakfast was placed on the table.

After breakfast Onie began the canning process.  After doing what little I could to help I set off for the grate to test my new line.  Hopefully the results would be better.  Just to keep the record straight this was before the trip to Trustworthy and before the final re-spooling so the reader knows the foregone result, lots of break offs.

Kurt went with me when the trip to town was made.  We both bought more sinkers when the new line was purchased and then we headed off to Freddie’s where he bought a fan, for drying fish, and a wall hook.

Back in camp the final re-spooling, mentioned above, took place and then it was back to the grate.  Sometimes problems arise with equipment that are seemingly unfathomunable when in reality the problem is not the machine but the operator.  On rare occasions the problem is the equipment and it was hoped that such was the case in this instance as the one thing the writer felt that he could really sue was a new line, better than the old one.  Thirty minutes and three fish later, with no break offs, the author was satisfied that his new line was better than the old one.  This line had caught the fish he was after.

Onie had snacks ready at our house where Becky and Kurt joined us and then it was on to their place for supper.  Iowa venison is near ‘bout as good as Texas venison and when it is covered with onions and gravy one can hardly tell the difference.  The corn that accompanied the venison was from Iowa also and the efforts of Becky rendered it down right tasty.

Full of good food, and with lots of daylight left, the group headed back to the grate, at ten.  Becky hooked two but we were unable to land either.  No one else hooked up.

Kurt left to get his tackle ready to fish for king salmon.  Becky went with him.

It was eleven and Onie and I went to our rig where she surfed the web while yours truly tapped away on his laptop. 

A big day drew to a close just after midnight when we repaired to our bedroom and warm covers.

July 22, 2008

Tuesday

FRESH FISH FOR SUPPER FIRST TIME

Onie got up at nine to make coffee and tea.  When the coffee was ready she made some toast, added a few figs and that was her breakfast. 

Outside the sun shone through the forty nine degree air.

Colby came down to the coach at ten thirty.

The writer rose at eleven and he and Colby had tea, sausage and biscuits at noon.

We helped Onie with her canning and finished processing the fish caught last night.

The clouds that had been gathering now delivered rain, as if we needed it.

Colby and I took our fish over to Kurt’s and vacuum packed it.  We ended up with five packages.  Somewhere there is a little ground fault in the electric system for when the writer touched the sealing machine he got a little tingle so Colby had run the machine.  He got no tingle.

With yesterday’s catch taken care of Colby and I set off for the grate.  He had been with us, here, in two thousand one, when he was twelve.  He had spent his time fishing for trout.  Today he was going to try his hand for more sockeyes, reds.

Half an hour later Colby had his and David’s supper, one, and PawPaw had three.  It had been his first time at catching supper and he had done quite well.

The fish were filleted; ours were also skinned for canning and his for immediate eating.

While we were catching our fish Kurt had strung three, also.  The continuing rain hadn’t deterred any of us even though we were all wet and cold.  It was fifty two.  There is no summer here.

The growth of a beard does not seem to be affected by air temperature or the amount of rainfall.  It had been sometime since the writer had trimmed his and the time had come to tackle that job.  It was done and then he headed off for a shower.

Clean, dressed and half way presentable I joined Onie, Kurt and Becky, in the Subaru, where we started the drive to the Cooper Landing Princess Lodge, for supper.

We had hoped for good weather so we could sit on the deck, at the Lodge, and enjoy the view of the Kenai River and the mountains beyond it.  That was not to be as the rain continued all the way there and fell the whole time we were eating.  Even so we did get to have a good view as we requested and waited for a table next to a large window.  Kurt had duck, the ladies had scallops and the writer had shrimp.  We watched the rain falling on the deck, trees, river and swirling on the mountain side.  We imagined the bears living there were enjoying the moderate fifty degrees, at six thirty, for we knew it would be colder by the time they retired for the night.

Filled past the comfortable level we headed back to Castaway arriving at ten thirty. The rain was still with us and the temperature, as anticipated, had fallen to forty nine.

A few quick notes were made before Onie and I retired to watch a little TV before turning out the lights at one.

July 23, 2008

Wednesday

GOODBYE TO ALL

It was still cloudy and cool when we woke at nine.  The thermometer rested on fifty one.

A glance out our dinette window revealed a grate full of fishermen with poles bending everywhere.  

We made coffee and tea and continued to watch bending poles while Onie prepared  salmon and onions with sliced tomatoes for breakfast.  The morning paper held a new crossword which was quickly dispatched.  Then we turned our attention to Fox News.

A knock on the door was Colby.  He had come down to fish but was also hungry.  Onie treated him to some of the salmon and onions before he and I went to fish, in the rain.

Onie stayed in to clean house.

The rain fell all day.  Since repetitive news is no news and there has been much repetition when it comes to rain there will be no more news on rain.  The readers can consider it is raining unless they are informed otherwise.

In our damp condition Colby landed and strung one fish while the more experienced writer landed several and strung three.

Caroline, Jay and Kaye’s granddaughter has been here for a month but is going home tomorrow.  This afternoon there was a party, on the deck, at six.  Hamburgers, sloppy joes and hot dogs were served as well as potato salad and three bean salad along with a veggie tray.  Rubbard pie and chocolate cupcakes with chocolate icing were desert.

Tonight is also Becky’s last day here.  She will be leaving early in the morning.  Tonight she and Kurt came over to play Skip-Bo.  Onie had a table full of snacks when they arrived at seven thirty.  A couple of games later we said goodnight, to them.

Onie and I began a new game of Skippy at ten.  We turned up the heater.  Outside the temperature was fifty one.

How long we played Skip-Bo we really don’t know but we played a couple of more games before turning out the lights.

July 24, 2008

Thursday

LIQUID SUNSHINE

The liquid sunshine fell on our roof all night.

Many times during the winter, in Coldspring, the temperature will get down in the forties.  When it does we bundle up and or run the heater.  This morning it was forty eight when we woke.  We turned the heater on.

Colby rode the four wheeler up the hill to the cabin, last night.  This morning he rode it back down.  On the way down he met Chuck who told him the four wheeler is too loud, made him park it and took the key.  David called to let me know.  Diesel trucks and diesel motor homes are louder.

We checked the fish count.  Ten thousand fish came in yesterday.

The writer played three games on his computer before stopping for tea at nine.  Onie joined him with a cup of fresh coffee.  A little later we added oatmeal to the mix and then blended in a crossword.  With our word skills honed we moved to our laptops.

While the writer pecked away Onie worked on getting week nine ready for posting.

Taking a break from the laptops Onie began preparing fish for canning and the writer assumed the duties of honey wagon hauler.  While the holding tanks were draining the fresh water tank was filling.

We seem to be surrounded by water.  We have water under us, in the holding tank, we have water around us, the river, and we have water coming from above, liquid sunshine. 

The ground is saturated, too.

When Onie was ready to put the jars in the cooker, the writer took a break from his duties to put water and then jars in the pressure cooker.  Then the fire was lit and the preheating begun.

Work then resumed on the honey wagon duties.  Liquid sunshine continued.

When the honey wagon duties were at an end the writer became the fisher.  One was strung and then it was back to the cooker to set the pressure.  The time to set the pressure was a time to rest the wrist and arm from their flipping duties but once the pressure was set the arm and wrist went back to work.

They labored valiantly but to no avail.  No more fish were strung before it was time to turn off the fire under the cooker.  Then it was back to the grate and the flipping, duties.

Sometime later another fish was added to the one already on the stringer.  With quiet resignation the two fish were filleted and taken off to Custom for packaging and freezing.

When the writer turned fisher turn driver got back home at seven Onie had supper ready; salad and venison and onions with mushrooms in gravy over rice.

Sidney and Barbara came to play Skip-Bo at seven fifteen.  When the cards were shuffled and the snacks on the table at seven thirty we began playing.  We played a total of three games and the last one ended at a quarter after eleven.  They headed for their rig in the liquid sunshine that had blessed us with its presence all day.

Onie retired to the bedroom where she turned on the TV.  Yours truly sat at his laptop and made notes and fleshed out some that were already made.

At midnight he joined Onie to watch some more TV before they both drifted off to sleep.  Outside in the liquid sunshine it was forty eight.

July 25, 2008

Friday

ALAS POOR YORICK (ALGORE)

Alas poor algore, his voodoo theory on global warming is being shattered here in Alaska as Anchorage faces its coldest summer in recorded history.  The thermometer has only reached sixty five seven times so far this year and the weather man says there is no warmth in sight.  Of course my brother David could have saved everybody the time and trouble of keeping those records as he knew and pronounced the fact that it wasn’t summer in Alaska but winter, after all.  Up until now the coldest summer had produced sixteen days of temperatures over sixty five by this time of the year.  There is less than a month when warm weather really has a chance of making an appearance but since it has been missing in action all year there is no reason to expect it to raise its ugly head now.  Spring has sprung and summer has fell.  Soon it will be winter and colder than water in a well.  Sorry, you were thinking of the country version.  So here in Alaska we continue to wear our summer clothes, a tee shirt, a flannel shirt and shirt jacket, when outside, for the men and for the women a tee shirt, a long sleeved sweater and a light jacket when outside.  We here in Alaska wish algore and his cronies the best of luck in inventing the next great technological wonder which will no doubt eclipse his internet.

Onie got up at eight to make coffee and have a breakfast of cold cereal.  She let the writer slumber on enjoying his dreams of a world without air headed liberals whose sole purpose in life is to turn America into a Western Europe, rife with socialism and confiscatory taxes.

Around nine Onie left to go in search of garage sales and all the treasures they may hold.

The sound of uninterrupted sleep still came from the bedroom.

At ten it ceased and the writer rose to his breakfast of cold cereal and a few pieces of Onie’s fudge, a true culinary delight.

Watching folks on the grate continuously flip with no apparent landing of fish he turned his attention to the current issue to the Anchorage Daily News and its lead story on a purposed trail through bear country, in Anchorage.  Local weather around the state was checked out and then the weather in Houston, Austin and Huntsville, Alabama checked and it confirmed the suspicion that a cold summer in Alaska is better than a hot one in the lower forty eight.  After all the lower forty eight doesn’t have an abundance of sockeye and halibut?  With the paper read the comics were looked at for a daily dose of wisdom before the crossword was filled in.  Then it was off to the computer to check the weather in Coldspring and look at the roller coaster ride so euphemistically referred to as the stock market.  The morning’s batch of email brought some thoughts from friends and relatives and a lot of political news.

After reading the political news the writer thought a shower would feel good.  He made the bed, showered and dressed before sitting down to make these notes.

The clock crept past two and the writer figured Onie was finished with her garage sale activities and was at either Safeway or Fred Meyer.  She isn’t a big aficionado of Coldstone Creamery.

Factory recommendation is for the Cummins to run it once a month so it was cranked and left to run for a while.  Tex Ritter, Hank Snow, Bob Wills, Waylon Jennings, Ray Price and some of their friends serenaded me via channel nine fifty one on Dish TV.

When the writing became too labored the laptop was deserted for the grate.

It was full and few rods bent as I sat and waited for an opening to appear.  Les noticed me waiting and slid down a few feet to let me in.  I thanked him.  Seven flips later I had a big buck (male) lying on the grate.  He was hooked in the stomach so he was released.  On flip number twenty two another fish came flopping in, a small hen.  She too was released. Another hundred or better flips occurred before another small hen was landed.  This one would normally have gone back but she was bleeding so profusely that it was obvious she wouldn’t survive, long.  Accordingly she was bonked, bled and strung.  A while later a good sized buck was hooked right in the corner of the mouth.  If the leader and line held he would be strung.  Les grappled with the net for sometime before the fish was lying on the grate and then strung.  It had been an hour since the writer started fishing but so far he was the only one to string any fish.

PawPaw had been watching for Onie’s return.  Now he saw the car roll to a stop in front of the Marlin.  He lay down his rod and went to help her unload the groceries and her yard sale finds.  Among the yard sale purchases was a new black hat for yours truly.  Look for it in later days.  

With the car unloaded the fisherman headed back to the grate.  A few drops of liquid sunshine were now falling from the sky and Les wanted to put up his awning.  He and Wendy are returning to Eagle River, tonight, and he doesn’t want to roll up a wet awning.  The writer eased into the spot vacated by Les.  Sixty or seventy casts later another big buck came to bay in the net.  Even though a seal had taken a small bite from the right side of the fish he was bonked and strung.  The numbers of fish in the river are small and the possibility of getting a better fish was small.  Limited out the writer returned to the Marlin, Onie and his laptop.

While the catching was taking place Kurt had come down and invited us to have supper with them, steak and blooming onions.  Now Onie, never one to go anywhere empty handed, was cooking mashed potatoes and gravy, to contribute to the meal.  She also contributed a Caesar salad.

While she was making these preparations the writer went back to the river to see how Kurt’s daughter, Crista, her boyfriend, Paul and Crista’s room mate Marky were doing catching fish.  They had quit and were sitting on the steps lamenting the lack of fish in the river.  The writer opined as how there were plenty of fish in the river for those who know how to catch them and he would show them how and catch a fish in five or ten flips.  With that he picked up Kurt’s rod, it was handy, and started flipping.  The kids counted, one, two; hook up and landed, a nice buck.  All of a sudden there were three kids flipping away.  The writer walked away having a good chuckle.

He walked on over to Kurt’s rig to help him start preparing the onions before they were deep fried and turned into “bloomin’ onions” to go with the steaks.

Back at the coach he helped Onie finish getting in the jars of canned salmon then sat down to record a few more things.

We left for Kurt’s at seven fifteen.  Kurt had the grill going and Sidney and Barbara were there along with Mike and his son, Sean.  Chuck and LaVon saw the crowd and stopped by.  Crista, Paul and Marky were busy setting the table with paper ware.  Soon the “bloomin’ onions” were in the hot oil and then they were on the table.  Eager fingers reached for them and many of those fingers withdrew quickly after coming in contact with the steaming onions.  A few minutes later the fingers went back and were soon transporting succulent onion to waiting mouths. Steaks cooked to order followed and were joined by Barbara’s potato salad and Onie’s contributions.

The table was cleared and four decks of Skip-Bo cards were laid out.  Players were matched, as much as possible, with a seasoned player and a novice.  The games had been underway all ten minutes when more liquid sunshine began falling.  The players got up and moved the table underneath the awning where play continued.

Later when the games were over Kurt and company headed off to BJ’s, in Soldotna, to see and hear Hobo Jim.

Onie, PawPaw, Sidney and Barbara went to the Marlin and began more Skip-Bo games.

Midnight saw the ladies retire while the men folk headed off to the fish grate.  The fishing was good but the catching was rather slow and at two, with one fish strung, the fish were filleted and the guys headed for their rigs.

Inside the coach PawPaw sat down at his laptop to record some of the events of a long day before joining a sleeping Onie at three ten.

July 26, 2008

Saturday

HELLO

Oh the joys of liquid sunshine.  The sound it creates on our roof is not to be compared with anything else and there was nothing else to compare it to all night long.

Onie was up at nine fixing the coffee and tea.  Inside the coach we were snug and warm.  Outside it was damp and forty nine. 

The phone rang.  It was Dawn.  She was sitting in the airplane, in Houston, waiting for the pushback and take off.  The next time we talk she will be in Alaska.

While I talked Onie was straightening up the kitchen and storing things from her last shopping trip.

Yours truly sat on the floor and wrapped individual jars of salmon before returning them to the boxes.

Onie fixed left over steak with onion and gravy, for breakfast.  We put it over generous helpings of rice.  Thoughts of weight loss are lost in the back of our mature minds.  The crossword was another fill in the blank and was dispatched with ease before we began sorting clothes preparatory to heading off to the laundry room.

 Showers were taken and then the clothes were cleaned in the washers. 

While they were being made presentable again fish were vacuumed at Kurt’s.  Then trash was removed from the Marlin, coolers cleaned out and general clean up and reorganization of outside furniture and other items. 

A few minutes remained before the clothes would be ready to fold.  Notes were made and then it was off to the laundry room to finish our wash day chores; fold clothes.

When we had stored our clean clothes the writer set off to return bowls and a computer game to Priscilla.  Onie filled one of the bowls with chowder and wrapped up some fudge for Priscilla and Ted.

Then it was off to fish for two hours.  The reward was two small reds, but since no one else caught any, the author didn’t feel too bad.

Seven thirty brought Dawn to us.  We exchanged hellos and hugs before we got her luggage into the Marlin.

More notes were made.

We had brought Dawn in from the liquid sunshine and fifty four degrees.  It was warm and dry in the house.

Onie sat steaming bowls of salmon chowder in front of us.  It chased the cold from our bones and the hunger from our midsections.

Colby and I went to fish.  1 managed one more and then filleted all three before we headed off to Custom Seafood at ten fifteen.

We were back at the coach at eleven.

The group was tired.  Dawn had traveled all day.  Onie had put in a full day with wash and house work.  The writer had done a few chores as well as fished hard and written lightly.  Colby, well Colby had slept hard early in the day, had walked down the hill and fished.  In addition he was still growing.

Colby was driven up the hill to the cabin where he was staying with David.

Dawn, Onie and me were all in bed at midnight and were asleep by twelve ten.

July 27, 2008

Sunday

SUNDAY

Getting up at nine on Sunday mornings gives us enough time to have a leisurely breakfast, perhaps work a crossword and still get to church on time.   That is what we did today.

While the coffee and tea brewed and a few notes were being made the liquid sunshine fell from the heavens.  When the oatmeal Onie prepared was ready we sat down to break our fast.

Later Onie and I dressed and headed off to church.  Pastor Tim delivered another good message showing wisdom beyond his years.

On the way home from church we stopped to look at a fifth wheel that was being offered for sale by the owner.  A quick walk through proved that it had seen some rough usage and while it was priced very reasonably it would require a lot of time, money and effort to restore it to our standards.  We agreed not to make an offer and headed on home.

While Onie prepared lunch the writer visited with Dawn and read the paper.

When the bell pepper halves and salmon salad and an avocado for me were on the table the three of us sat down to enjoy our lunch.  While we ate Onie explained to Dawn that this is my favorite midday meal when we are traveling.

After lunch Onie and Dawn headed off to do some shopping.  Colby came down from the cabin where he was staying with son David and he and I went to the grate for a little fishing time.  While we were there the writer managed to hook four, one of which was landed but Colby was less fortunate and managed a goose egg instead of a fish.

When Onie and Dawn returned my fishing pole was put to rest while the car was unloaded and things stored in the house and basement.  While the basement was open the four cases of pint jars full salmon were stored there, as well.

With shadows starting to form Colby, Dawn and I began preparing for our upcoming halibut trip, tomorrow.  Rain suits were folded and stored in a back pack, boots were put in the car along with two cooers and then our lunch bag was filled with sodas, water and goodies.

When everything was done that could be done in advance of the trip the writer settled back down to make a few more notes.

Onie put supper on the table at eight. 

After we filled our tummies we visited a little while Dawn did the dishes.  Then Dawn and Colby put their patches behind their ear, to avoid seasickness tomorrow, and began getting their bed ready.

Onie and I went to the bedroom where we watched a movie until twelve thirty.

Colby’s alarm as well as mine was set to go off at three A.M. so the author slept fast so as to be rested for the drive to Homer.