ON BOARD THE SOLITUDE

Monday, July 6, 2009

The sound of footsteps on the after deck woke me at five fifteen.  Larry & Jr. were boarding.

Laying in the bunk the writer listened as they prepared the Solitude for another day at sea.  Bait was brought aboard, rods were placed in the holders, bilges were checked, battery levels were verified and then the diesels were fired up.

It was eighteen minutes to six.

Only Dave had come aboard since the two Larry’s had arrived. Mary had signed on for just Sunday and John had eaten something last night that disagreed with him so he had cancelled.  What ever fish were caught today would be up to the three of us, Kyle, Dave and me.

Three minutes after the diesels fired they were sufficiently warm to ease the boat out of her slip and into the channel.  We were underway.  The writer had lay in his bunk listening to the early morning preparations and now closed his eyes and dozed off.  Kyle had never stirred from his slumbers.

Clear skies were overhead and the wind that had whipped up the waves yesterday had lain overnight.  The ride was smooth.

An hour after leaving port the writer woke again, dressed and went up to the salon where Dave was dozing.  Fresh do-nuts, bear claws and other fat laden cholesterol holding goodies were on top of the refrigerator waiting for some unsuspecting soul to give in to temptation.  With a look over his shoulder to be sure he was alone the writer had one and then another before good sense replaced hunger.  He then went back to his cabin and got a piece or two of venison sausage to finish his breakfast.  Back in the salon he poured himself a cup of orange juice and sipped on it as the flat sea slipped under the keel.

Kyle slept on.

When the OJ was low in the cup Kyle made his appearance.  Quickly scanning the nearby waters he spotted a pair of sea otters.  A few minutes later he pointed out some more to Pawpaw.  What fog there was, lay in the distance, trailing its wispy tendrils across the top of the wavelets.

Several miles out of Homer the seas began building although the wind was still very light. 

With seas running two to three feet the anchor was slipped off Anchor Point.  We were in thirty four feet of water over kelp beds.  Captain Larry had talked to other skippers on the way out and once again he weather outside was forbidding so we were well within in the confines of Katchemak Bay. 

The bite was slow so a couple of chum bags were placed over the side and within half an hour we had some bites.   The pecking and then steady downward pulls produced several fish in the twenty pound range but nothing that any of us were really interested in keeping.  When one about twenty five pounds was boated it was kept.  It was almost black as opposed to the brownish color of halibut the author was familiar with.  Captain Larry said that the fish living in the kelp had the darker color and were the best eating.

By now the seas had increased to yesterdays proportions, four feet.

Even though it looked like it would be a rough ride going out the decision was made to give it a try.  The anchor was hoisted and once again we were under way.

Where the tide change meets the wind a riff is formed and it is here that the roughest seas occur.  The Solitude met them head on, slicing and pounding through them throwing the spray from the split waves over her bow and racing through before it hit the after deck.  The two Larrys occupied the flying bridge while the paying customers were riding it out in the warm dry salon.  All three were seated as there was no way one could safely stand or walk as the hull pitched and pounded her way toward the open water.  A look at Kyle showed him to be fast asleep.  He makes a good sailor.  Outside the ten foot whitecaps were blowing their tops into the windows giving one the impression of a rain storm.

After taking the pounding and beating for fifteen or so minutes we reached the ocean side of the riff and calmer waters.  That is not to say it was smooth.  We rocked rhythmically in five foot swells once we were anchored in one hundred eighty eight feet of clear cold water.

We baited up and began fishing.  It was clear and cold.

To the stern of the boat we could see mountains and the active volcano.   While waiting for the bite to begin Kyle saw Augustine belch and white plume of steam and smoke.  He thought that was pretty awesome, and it was.  Augustine is one of several volcanoes in Alaska that is a part of the “Ring of Fire”.

Wind whistled around us and the boat at fifteen to twenty miles per hour guaranteeing that bigger seas were in the offing.  In the meantime we were balancing on a deck that was rolling fifteen to twenty degrees, in the cold damp, reeling up fish and three pound weights.  No one asked if we were having fun yet, but we were.  Fisherman are a strange breed indeed, usually happy if they are catching fish, and the weather can be hanged.  We were catching fish albeit small ones.

The strong incoming tide that necessitated the three pound weights also brought in some good sized cod which, when caught, were cut up for bait.

The halibut continued to be small but then a ray of hope ran through the fishermen as Pawpaw’s rod bent double and he hung on as the reel screamed, giving up line.  A BIG fish was on and we would be rewarded for our patience and endurance.  Perhaps Pawpaw would get Kyle to help reel this monster in.  Perhaps monster should never have entered Pawpaw’s mind as the fish on the other end of he line never gave the tell tale halibut twitch but continued a strong downward plunge with no head shake whatsoever.  Hoping against hope and experience Pawpaw fought the fish for some fifteen minutes but never really made much headway at retrieving the line that had been stripped from the reel.  He, along with Captain Larry, Little Larry and Dave came to the conclusion that the fish on the other end of the line was indeed a monster and one that none of us wanted on or near the boat.  It was a huge skate, a fish similar to the stingrays of southern waters.  Captain Larry took the rod, locked down the reel and began pulling with all his might as the boat heaved and rocked beneath him.  It was not a question of whether or not he could break the eighty pound test line it was a question of when.  The skate was certainly bigger than eighty pounds and with his nose turned up in the fast flowing tide he could probably exert pressure in the hundreds of pounds.  At last the line gave way, after much stretching, and the remainder was reeled in to be re-rigged, hopefully for a big halibut.

The seas were continuing to build and the bite slowed as we reached slack tide.  With a slight turning of the tide we switched to two pound weights.  The bite resumed but was yielding only five and ten pounders.  Time was running out for the fishermen.  The outgoing tide was beginning to run faster, at some point it would be so fast we couldn’t get a bait to the bottom no matter how much weight we used and if we couldn’t get a bait to the bottom we couldn’t get to the halibut.

Fifteen pounders were looking good and we began keeping them.  Kyle reported that the little meter on the bulkhead was showing rolls of thirty degrees.  The writer didn’t take time to check it but had no reason to disbelieve him as ten to twelve foot swells slid under our keel.  The four other boats around us disappeared from view when we or they were in a trough.

With the increasing wind and tide running it was only a matter of time before the seas would be even bigger.  The Solitude is a good boat and can handle the seas but it would be a very rough ride for the passengers and crew if we waited much longer to heave anchor and run for harbor. 

When a small skate was hooked and landed it almost spelled the end of the fishing day.  More cod were brought aboard and those were released.  Then the final halibut of the trip went into the fish box.  We had seven fish.  Kyle, Dave, Larry, Jr. and Pawpaw had fished.  Another boat, fishing close to us with six fishermen on board, had one fish.

The anchor was hoisted and we began the slow ride in.  Fortunately our course in lay almost parallel to the swells so we did not have to meet the heavy seas head on or even quartering but rather rode up and over them in a rocking motion.  Still, all windows were closed and secured as was the salon door as the breaking seas washed all vestiges of fishing from the after deck.

Before dosing, Kyle enjoys the comics.

Dave slept.  Kyle Slept.  Pawpaw worked a crossword.

Again no one moved as it would have meant landing on the floor or against the bulkhead.

Ninety minutes of bucking the unruly seas brought us to calmer waters where Larry Jr. began filleting the fish.  Kyle was in his rack so he could drive home.

Near Homer fog began to gather around the Solitude. 

At half past four the stern touched the floating dock.  Pawpaw woke Kyle and the two of them went up to Coal Point to get the fish taken care of.  Dave and Larry, Jr. had given us theirs as they would be fishing again in a few days.

When the Solitude returned from the fuel dock we unloaded our tote, said our goodbyes to the Larrys and Dave and headed for the Subaru. 

At the car Kyle slid behind the wheel and headed for Castaway.  We stopped in Homer proper to get a coke and water at Safeway before continuing the drive.

One moose, several eagles and a little fog was seen on the way to Soldotna where we stopped at Noble Car Wash to get the dust off the toad.

We were home at six thirty, tired and dirty.

A short walk took us to Kurt’s for snacks and happy hour which turned into supper, hot wings, bbq chicken and baked beans.

After supper we both took a hasty shower and headed for the bed.  It was warm and so it was outside. It was nine o’clock.

Onie had spent the day washing and cleaning house.  She was happy for the opportunity to get to bed early.

HOUSE WORK

Tuesday, July 07, 2009

Kyle was anxious to work on Kurt’s house and rose at seven thirty to get ready to go.  Onie was up with him, fixing him some breakfast.  When he left with Christopher to go up the hill Onie joined me back in bed.

By eleven the writer had managed to get up, fix tea and sit to watch pictures scroll past on the digital frame Kyle gave Onie for Mother’s Day ‘08. He was still seated in front of the passing show when Onie got up.

After reading the paper we had breakfast at one--steel cut oats, blueberries, walnuts and huckleberry honey that Kyle brought us. He also brought huckleberry tea. We will try that later.

Tracy called just after breakfast and at the end of the call Onie cleaned the kitchen and then posted week six.

The group working on the house came down to brunch at Kurt’s, Kyle driving the four wheeler with Christopher riding behind him.

Meanwhile the writer was making notes for the last three days.  It had been so hectic that the laptop hadn’t been touched in three days.

We will host supper tomorrow night for the house workers so Onie started preparations, a beef roast in the slow cooker with veggies.  Tomorrow, before we eat, she will add fresh cornbread.

The blazing sun had produced temps as hot as a Saturday night special, eighty two.  We sweltered.  The writing went on as the author worked barefoot, in shorts and no shirt.  Even with all the windows open, the dash fans running as well as the Smart fan sweat still appeared on the writer and cook.  Both felt the little used roof air conditioners may be in store for some work.

Wondering about progress on the house on the hill Pawpaw set off to see Kyle and the other workers.

Front porch faces the river and the Chugach Mountains. Beautiful view.

Becky Tatsumi (the owner) caulking. Getting ready to paint some more.

Kurt Tatsumi (the other owner) taking a short break to say hello.

Krista (Kurt and Becky's daughter) hangs from the rafters with her nail gun.

Kyle, keeping the other workers busy.

Christopher (Kurt and Becky's son) and Kyle unload supplies.

Back down more notes were made and the author wrote day one of week seven.

Kyle and Christopher came back down to help me empty the holding tanks and fill the fresh water tank.

Onie was busy rigging to fish, finished she went to the grate and river where she found no fish waiting for her.

She came back to cook brats on the grill while the writer was rigging to fish.

Our neighbor, Bill Hager came by to say he needs help down at his rig.  There we discussed a satellite antenna, water filter, water drains, winterizing and other things before the writer walked home an hour later.

Brats were enjoyed at our picnic table before heading down to fish.  Four hundred casts later with not so much as a bump a cessation of fishing took place.

Back in the coach more notes were made before Christopher came over to see about clamming tomorrow.  There is only a minus one point one tide but it will be Kyle’s best chance to experience razor clamming.  We made a date for tomorrow, he will go with Kyle and me.

With the plan for tomorrow in place Kyle turned to the Game Show Channel while Onie and I turned to the bed.

CLAM DOWN I SAY!

Wednesday, July 08, 2009

Clamming times are controlled by the tides, low tides to be more specific, so this morning we rose at seven thirty so we can be on the clamming beach by ten.

The sky was clear and it was warm, sixty.

After breakfast we loaded the toad and left for Ninilchik at a quarter to nine.  It was going to be a warm day as the temp had already climbed to sixty five.

With Kyle driving we arrived at the appointed time of ten.  We parked, booted up, got out our shovels, a clam gun and buckets and began our walk to the beach.

Eager to begin Kyle and Christopher out paced Pawpaw and began digging with their shovels while he was still far off.

With a tide that would expose the clam beds for only a short time, speed was of the essence.  The boys were digging with the shovels as Pawpaw scouted for the dimples and or spouts in the sand that indicates a clam is somewhere below.  When the tide is really out, as happens with a minus five, the clams are close to the surface of the sand, maybe just a foot below the surface.  With a tide like today they are deeper and the boys were having trouble reaching them with the shovels. 

Pawpaw got busy with the clam gun,

with the boys scouting for him.  As soon as he had a hole about two feet deep Kyle or Christopher would plop down and run their arm down the hole, up to the armpit, and try to grab the clam before it dug its way deeper.  Razor clams dig very fast.  When we got lucky the clam would be in the tube of sand that had been brought up by the clam gun.  Then one of the boys would kick the sand cylinder exposing the clam, pick it up, rinse it and put it in the bucket with the other clams that were purging in clear salt water.

Now while the boys and Pawpaw were having fun the fun is a dirty kind.  Kyle, dressed in jeans, a tee shirt and rubber boots was a glob of sand and mud by the time the clamming came to an end.

 Clams purging in clear sea water

Soon the tide began its inexorable march back up the shore, chasing us as it came. 

Kyle had rinsed in the cold surf but was still too dirty to ride in the car.  Christopher and Pawpaw had worn hip waders and stayed clean compared to him.  Looking to the future Onie had sent a pair of clean jeans along with Kyle and Pawpaw volunteered his tee shirt, he also had on a long sleeved shirt, so Kyle could clean up a bit.  Standing at the back of the toad he changed clothes before we headed off to an ocean side restaurant.

The boys ordered the ever popular bacon cheeseburger while Pawpaw opted for a bowl of clam chowder.  The three shared a basket of fried clam strips.

Fed and watered the group got back in the car, Kyle driving, and headed for Castaway.  The fun was over and the work of clam cleaning lay ahead.  Passing Clam Gulch, on the way home, we could see smoke billowing from a huge forest fire burning just a few miles off the road near Tustumena Lake. It has been very dry this summer, in Alaska, and at the present time there are about sixty, yes sixty, wildfires burning in the state.  Some effort is being made to suppress a few of them but most are being left to burn themselves out.  Hundreds of homes will be lost to fire, the majority of which are started by lightning strikes, before the summer is over.

Back at the coach at four we began preparations to clean our catch.

Fresh water was put into two five gallon buckets and a pan of water was placed on the Cajun cooker, to heat.  As soon as the water was hot enough clams were dropped into the basket and the basket placed in the hot water.  In a couple of minutes the clam shells popped open and the clams were lifted from the basket, the shells opened the rest of the way and the clam body removed.  More clams went into the hot water and the process continued until all the clams were soaking in cool fresh water.  Then the next task of cutting the clams open, cleaning them out and removing the diggers was taken over by Onie and Krista who had come to help.  That portion of the job complete Krista and the writer took the diggers down to the fish cleaning table where they were opened and cleaned.  Then the buckets, knives, scissors and hands that had been involved in the cleaning operation were all thoroughly washed.  The clean clams and hands made the trip over to Kurt’s place where just some the clams were vacuum packed.  Some were saved out to be cooked, soon, and the hands were saved for another day’s work.

While the cleaning had been taking place Onie and the writer had been multitasking, grilling chicken all the while.

Now it was time to shower and dress for a concert sponsored by our church, a group of five men singing Southern Gospel music.  We had been looking forward to it since it was announced two weeks ago.

The clamming crew plus Onie and Krista headed off for SoHi, Soldotna High School, where the concert was scheduled to be.  When we got there the parking lot was empty and no one knew anything about a concert.

Disappointed we returned home to eat chicken and fresh radishes from the community garden.  Onie added purple hull peas and okra which was a hit with most folks.

Seated at the picnic table we ate in semi-darkness as the sun was hidden by the heavy smoke from the fires south of us.  Fly ash peppered the table and our clothes as we ate.

Kyle is a big Skip-Bo fan and loves to play so he and Onie once again faced Krista and the writer, for a game.  Kyle and Onie came in second.

The card game at an end Onie and I headed for the fish grate where she caught and strung two while the writer waited for a more opportune time to string any.  Kyle had the same luck as the writer.

With the fish cleaned and in the frig Onie went to bed at midnight.

Kyle and Pawpaw visited until twelve thirty when Kyle conked out.

Pawpaw sat at the laptop, writing until two.

CAVIAR-TEXAS STYLE

Thursday, July 09, 2009

Onie was up at eight thirty with Kyle.  The writer stayed in the sack until a quarter of ten when Onie brought him a cup of hot tea.  Waiting on the table was steel cut oats, blueberries and walnuts sweetened with huckleberry honey.  When the crossword was finished Papaw went outside to clean up the patio.  Onie cooked for tonight and Kyle indulged in GSN.

Brunch was soon being served at Kurt’s and we went over to visit with the crew.

Brunch over Onie went back to cooking and the writer made a few more notes before heading off to the Kenai SBS for soffit, hangers and nails for the small nail gun.  Onie was ready for a break from the kitchen and Kyle was tired of GSN so they opted to ride along.  That proved to be a good decision as the driver made a stop at Coldstone Creamery where the three of them loaded up on ice cream.  Then it was on to Kenai where we dropped Onie off at Three Bears to do a little shopping while Kyle and I continued on to get the supplies.

With the supplies loaded we headed back toward Three Bears.  Kyle called Onie to let her know we were on our way back.   Just after we stopped in the parking area Onie appeared with her basket of goodies.  Kyle hopped out to help her load them and then it was on to the Marlin.  Inside her bags of goodies was more ice cream and it needed to go into the freezer before the truck went to the house to drop off the material.  Onie and ice cream delivered, Kyle and the driver went up the hill with the truck.

At the house we unloaded the material.  It was four o’clock.

The shelving in the shed is an ongoing project and now the driver went down to measure the back of the shed to see what materials would be needed to complete the two wide back shelves.  Measurements in hand it was back up the hill to get the needed materials and then back down to unload them.

Then another side shelf was started.

Work was stopped to help Onie get supper out on the picnic table.  Kurt, Becky, Chris, Krista, Sidney, Barbara, Laura, Kyle, Onie and the writer would be having supper courtesy of and a result of Onie’s hard work.  Becky contributed a very good salad.  For appetizers Onie set chips, Texas caviar and artichoke salsa on the table that was now surrounded by hungry mouths.  When everyone had their sufficiency of appetizers she brought out hot cornbread and the pot roast with veggies and corn on the cob.  Plates were filled to running over and everyone fell to with a vengeance.  Distended bellies equated with sated appetites but Onie wasn’t through with her guests, just yet.  Now hot blueberry and hot fresh cherry cobblers appeared with vanilla ice cream, for desert.  The sight was greeted by groans but soon good judgment was overruled, the aroma drifting about on the evening breeze.

Clean bowls were filled with the cobblers, ice cream added and once again the crew was eating.  At last, no one could eat another bite and the clean up started.  It took a long time.  The paper plates and bowls were all thrown into the fire ring to be burned with the next campfire.  Forks and spoons along with serving dishes were set into the coach’s sink.  Clean up was done and it was only nine.  Even so everyone drifted off to their rigs.

Kyle went in to see what was playing on GSN while Onie and Pawpaw went to the grate.

Half an hour of flipping produced one bump for Pawpaw and none for Onie so they headed back to the coach at ten.

Onie finished cleaning up the kitchen while Pawpaw made some notes and Kyle got ready for bed.

By ten thirty all was quite in the coach except for the relaxed sound of folks sleeping.

BLOCKS

Friday, July 10, 2009

Early to bed and early to rise makes one rested, I suppose but early to bed and late to rise makes one really rested.

The household in the Marlin rose at nine and had tea and oats.

Kyle went to work on the house with Christopher at nine and the writer went up at ten.

Blocking and cutting blocking was the lot of the writer as long as he worked.

Back down at five he watered plants for Onie while she heated up the pot roast and veggies.

Onie’s plants are doing very well under her watchful eye.  She tends them, deadheading and plucking small stray weeds and talking to them, saying four letter words like, grow, grow, grow.  Next to her flower boxes is her “Welcome Bear”.  Welcome Bears abound in camp and all last summer she looked for one at yard sales but was never successful in finding one.  Over the winter Sidney made her one and it was sitting at our spot when we arrived.  By itself on the gravel pad it looked rather lonesome but now that it is surrounded by flowers it seems quite happy.

Kyle, Onie and Pawpaw dined in and followed their meal with more cobbler.

When Onie and Pawpaw went to fish Kyle and Chris watched GSN.

At the grate Onie and Pawpaw each hung and strung a fish before calling it quits.  Onie stayed to visit with Pawpaw while he filleted the catch.

Back at the coach they placed the fish in the frig and got ready for bed.

It was eleven.

LOONG DAY

Saturday, July 11, 2009

It had to be eleven thirty somewhere in the world when the writer rose at five thirty.  That proved to be of little consolation to him as he had a quick breakfast of warmed up sausage on a bun.

When he stepped out of doors he was greeted by cool foggy air.  He walked over to Sidney’s, his shoes colleting a generous portion of the morning’s dew as he went.

Seated in chair under Sidney’s awning at ten to six he waited for Sidney to make his six o’clock appearance.  On cue he came out and got on his work boots then it was up the hill to Kurt’s house to begin the work day.

Alaskan houses have special needs to protect them from earthquake damage.  One such need is to have blocking between studs and anywhere sheathing meets.  That means lots of blocks and blocking, nailing the blocks in.  From six until noon the author cut blocks and blocked.

The lunch break took us to Don’s for scrambled eggs, bacon, his grand father’s pancakes, maple syrup, biscuits, watermelon, orange juice, coffee, milk, etc.  Unfortunately the writer ate his generous share.

Onie, Kyle and Christopher had left for the Russian River Falls at eleven when the writer had taken a short break to ride the four-wheeler down to say bye and remind them to make lots of noise as they walked through bear country.  They assured him they would and he headed back up the hill.

After brunch/lunch work began on sheathing for the very top portion on the backside of the house. Working on a very long extension ladder Kurt would slide the plywood pieces up the ladder in front of him before Sidney, standing on a ladder inside the house, would grab them and tack them up.  He then handed the nail gun to Kurt who would complete the nailing from his position on the ladder.  The writer had the job of stabilizing the ladder and stepping and fetching needed items.  As the afternoon wore on the reach was too much for the ladder so it was placed in the bed of a pickup.  As work moved along the side of the house, the writer inched the pickup along to reposition the ladder.

Before one jumps to any wild conclusions let it be noted that Kurt was never on a moving ladder and the ladder was blocked in the bed of the truck so it was even and the writer was there in addition to assure no slippage while Kurt was on high.  Before the afternoon had passed the entire backside of the house was completely sheathed and the corner had been turned and the end next to the trees was well on it way to being closed in.

Kurt called a halt to the work at five thirty.  For the writer it had been a loooong day.

In the coach the writer sat in front of the computer and dozed while trying to read email.

Onie had called at five to say she and the boys had walked to the confluence of the Russian and Kenai Rivers where the boys had shed their shoes and gone for a wade in the cold water.

Kyle and Christopher wading at the confluence of the Russian and Kenai Rivers. Fisherman below.

Onie just stands by.

Kyle had extended a hand to help Onie down the series of steps down to the river. Holding hands with her grandson was a special moment for Onie.

Kyle at the trailhead.

After the wade she had taken them to the Princess Lodge for lunch.  They ordered their usual bacon cheeseburgers.

Kyle drinking his water at the Princess Lodge

Christopher and Kyle out on the deck after lunch at the Princess Lodge.

After replenishing their energy supplies they drove back to the trailhead for the Russian River Falls.  It was four o’clock.  A little detour on the wrong trail and the return trip had Onie worn out so the boys took off to the Falls, a 4.6 mile hike.

Kyle on Russian River Falls hike.

 Christopher on the hike.

Kyle has completed the 2.3 mile hike to the Russian River Falls.

And enjoys the view below. Salmon  pooling to rest as they continue their climb

up to the Russian Lake to spawn.

A view of the Russian River Falls.

She had stayed behind to take care of the car and be sure it was not attacked by killer bees, vampire mosquitoes, raging moose or drunken bears.  She did mention, in passing, that she was tired.

Waking for a short slumber, seated in front of the computer, the writer headed to Sidney’s at six ten for Jerusalem steaks, aka kosher hot dogs. 

Having eaten his fill he was back home at seven anxiously awaiting the return of Onie and the boys.  The sound of a car door closing woke him at a quarter of eight.  They were back.

Kyle came in and turned on GSN while Onie told Pawpaw about the days events before he headed off to the showers at eight.

Clean but still tired Pawpaw returned from the showers to hear the rest of the story of the day’s events.  When the telling was done everyone retired.

It was ten.

FRY DADDY

Sunday, July 12, 2009

When Pawpaw entered the kitchen at nine, to start breakfast, Kyle was already awake.  Early to bed had been a good thing for him.

Don had given us the left over pancake mix from the brunch, since Kyle had missed it.  Now Pawpaw flipped the pancakes while Onie fixed the bacon and tea.  We enjoyed some of the huckleberry honey Kyle had brought.  The meal was a perfect way to prepare us for church where we arrived at ten minutes to eleven.

Onie, Kyle, Krista, Becky and the writer came close to filling a pew.  When Tim stepped behind the pulpit it was to deliver a message entitled “A Good Servant”.  The service was over just past twelve when we headed home.

It was a beautiful day and everyone looked so nice in their church clothes that we sat at our picnic table for pictures.

Inside Kyle changed clothes and turned on GSN while Onie and Pawpaw sorted clothes.  Fishing and clamming had generated a huge amount of dirty clothes so wash day had been put forward one day.

With the wash sorted Kyle put it in the toad for Onie and they headed off for the washateria next to Noble Car Wash.   Onie expected to have seven loads and that would take all day at Castaway.  With more and bigger machines she hoped to be finished in a couple of hours.

She was and then they headed off to Kenai (Kyle at the wheel) where they had lunch and watched the locals as they dip netted.  On the way back they stopped at Coldstone. Kyle is a good driver.

In the Marlin Pawpaw checked his email and finished week seven and made notes on week eight.

Outside it was sunny warm.  Krista came over to borrow a lounger so she could sun bathe.   Kurt was busy putting the boat in the water.  Pawpaw kept on writing.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the coach at five thirty.  Onie and Kyle were back.  Kyle helped Onie get in the groceries then helped me empty our holding tanks as well as Norman’s.  Then he and Christopher headed off on the four wheeler.

When the holding tanks are full it means we need more fresh water so Pawpaw filled that tank before he watered Onie’s flowers.

Onie was busy spiffying up the house and getting clams ready to deep fry.

The Little Fry Daddy was filled with the first bunch of clams at seven and was refilled every time the deep fried clams came out.  Kyle, Onie, Krista, Don, Julie, Jay, Kay and the writer all enjoyed the tasty morsels, gathered around waiting for them to cool.  Charcoal, Don and Julie’s dog, sniffed around our feet picking up the few crumbs that were dropped.  No one left as long as there was the slightest hint of a clam still on the plate.

Half way through the clams the evening had turned cool.  A fire had been started in the fire ring and with the calms all gone we gathered around the blaze but before too long folks drifted away to their own rigs.

Pawpaw stayed by the fire and was soon joined by Bill Hager who had dropped by to visit.  He had been a bit under the weather but was doing somewhat better.  A container of Onie’s pot roast and veggies were given him with the assurance that he would feel better after he ate it.  The next day he did feel better.

The air had turned so cold by nine that Bill could no longer stay warm next to the fire so he gathered himself, and the roast, and drove to his camper.

Onie was cold too so she went in to leave Pawpaw in the warmth of the smoke.

Kyle was over visiting Don and Julie, he has become very fond of them. And they had a outdoor game Kyle had gotten quite good at, called ??????????

At ten Pawpaw walked over to get Kyle and tell Don and Julie goodnight.  Kyle told them goodbye as he will be gone before they return again.

Back in the Marlin Kyle watched GSN while Onie and the writer got ready for bed.

It was lights out at eleven.

Outside the embers of the fire glowed red as the air around the ring grew colder.