4:56

Monday, July 27, 2009

We were up at nine.

There is a noticeable shortening of daylight hours, now.  Yesterday we lost four minutes and fifty six seconds of daylight.  At five minutes a day in twelve days we will lose an hour except for the fact that the further away we get from the summer solstice the faster daylight hours are lost.  We have true nighttime now with a period of darkness that lasts about three and half hours.  Before we leave in September we will be down to about twelve hours of daylight and before we get home, near October the daylight will have shrunk to about eight hours.

By November the sunlight will be almost completely gone and will stay that way for sixty one days.  While Alaska is known at the “Land of the Midnight Sun” no moniker, as far as the writer knows, has been attached to this period of almost total darkness.  Perhaps we can call it the “Media Blackout” in recognition of the state that exists today in our nation as far as reporting of national news is concerned, at least in so far as it is truthful.

As mentioned before, the fireweed is blooming out.  The lupines have been gone for a while as have other early blooming flowers.

The rain that was falling last night when we went to sleep was still with us.

The writer made liberty toast for breakfast while Onie prepared the bacon.  Tea was enjoyed while we worked on the crosswords.

After breakfast Onie and Krista went into town.

The writer went out and got the fish bellies in the smoker, loaded it with apple and mesquite wood, set the time and temp and then walked down to the grate.

Before Onie got back from town the writer had his limit of fish.  He filleted them and then he and Onie went to town.  Her waders were exchanged at Trustworthy for a smaller size before we dropped off the fillets at Custom and returned home.

Sliced tomato, sliced avocado and pheasant gumbo made our supper.

A date had been made with Krista to play Skip-Bo and she arrived as we finished eating.  The table was cleared and the games began.  The bad luck Onie had when she and the writer played dominoes had all been used up and it was now replaced with good luck beyond compare.  It seemed she had a whole pocketful of Skip-Bo cards that she used at will.  When midnight was reached she had won the two games that had been played.

When Krista walked to her trailer we got ready for bed where we watched The Investigators before going to sleep at one.

Outside the rain fell.

OFF AND ON

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

In case you haven’t been paying attention, or have a short memory span it has been raining off and on for the past few days.  There has been no sunshine.  It has been cool, perhaps even a bit cold and we have run the heater when we have been in the coach.

It was fifty six and raining, damp and chilling when we rolled out at nine thirty.

The hot oats didn’t stay that way long and the toast was buttered as it was made.  Tea cooled very quickly in the cup.  The cantaloupe stayed nice and cool.  Even so we managed to work a complete crossword and part of another before we abandoned them to start our chores.

Onie washed the dishes while the writer showered and dressed then we took the dirty clothes and headed for the laundry.  Monday is our regular day to wash but we missed it so today we are catching up.  When the clothes were washing Onie began working on getting week nine ready to post.  Pawpaw returned to the rig and the smoker.  He opened the smoker and began removing the flesh from the fish bellies that had been smoked.  With that completed he sealed the bellies, washed his equipment and headed for his laptop.

Thirty six thousand fish came in yesterday and limits will be caught by Onie and Pawpaw but writing and laundry will be done first.  He wrote while he waited for her.

She returned with the clean clothes while it was still early evening.  We stored our clothes and began getting ready to fish.  Onie had new waders, her first pair ever, and Pawpaw helped her get them on and adjusted.  Then it was time to grab rods and the bucket and head to the river.  It is still high, in low flood stage, and one must be careful not to lose one’s footing and take a bath.  It would be a real eye opener as the water is about forty five degrees.  We both started fishing as soon as we got in place.  Pawpaw hooked and missed a fish on the first cast but on the third cast he put a nice, about eleven pounds, male on the stringer.  From then on it was a circus of hook, miss, flip a few times, hook, miss, flip, etc.  Onie was having a good time and Pawpaw was like an alcoholic in a liquor store as he caught and released fish.

All good things usually come to an end and our fishing did.  Not because there were no more fish but because we had our limits and our feet were cold.

Onie headed to the house while Pawpaw took the stringers to the cleaning table where he prepared the fish for canning.  That will happen tomorrow.

With the cleaned fish in a bucket and his tools in another hand Pawpaw walked to the coach.  He was numb to the bone from cold.  Inside Onie started the heater for him.  Half an hour later the numbness in his fingers was replaced by a tingling.  He thought about going back to fish but hunger and a weary body won out.  He stayed seated at the table and began supper, with Onie.

Now warm, fed and a bit rested he retired to the bedroom with Onie where they watched a little GSN, then Tru TV before wasting the rest of their evening on a movie called “Tunnel Rats”.  Gratuitous violence, filthy language and lack of plot makes this one of the poorest war movies I have ever seen.

One o’clock saw the Marlin grow dark and quiet.  We were asleep.

SALMON FOR GARY

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

It was hot last night.  We slept with the window open and the overhead vents cracked.  A light rain fell for a while.

We were up at ten for eggs, bacon, onion, bell pepper and corn tortillas accompanied by tea and crosswords.

Showers followed and then we dressed.

Outside it looked like a beautiful sunny day was shaping up.  It might be tee shirt weather.

In the kitchen Onie was making fudge while the writer took out the trash.  Then he wrapped cases of jars of salmon already in the shed.  While he was there he cleaned up from drying fish, straightened up a bit and got the canner and burner ready for Onie.

She had been busy loading twenty four half pint jars with salmon, for Gary, our son in Alabama.

With the burner and canner in place the jars were loaded, the canner sealed and the fire started.  Pawpaw monitored the canner as it heated and came up to pressure.  Onie was doing prep for supper.

While the canner heated Pawpaw lit a fire in the fire ring to burn accumulated paper, cardboard and wood.

With the fire going attention was turned to our fishing bucket.  It had become the receptacle for bits of fishing line, loose weights, dirt, and fish blood.  It was time to clean and reload it.  The contents were emptied and it was taken to the river for a good rinse and washing.  In the coach Onie was tying yarn on hooks and restocking our container of swivels, hooks and clips.

While all this maintenance was going on Onie’s flowers were showing off.

The daisies

the pansies

the fireweed

Tall plant is fireweed along with other assorted flowers.

and flowers unknown to the author

were all bright and vivid in the afternoon sunlight.  Next to them grew a common weed, dill.

A few feet away the river raced by at perhaps twelve to thirteen knots, still flooding the low shore and grate.

To the rear and left of the coach the community garden was growing great with strawberries, raspberries, brussel sprouts, lettuce, beets, radishes, broccoli and rhubard.

Notes were made while the canner came up to pressure then both Onie and Pawpaw went to fish.

The day was growing long in tooth but the energy level was just getting started when they stepped into the water with their waders.

It wasn’t long before there was fast and furious action as Onie hooked and landed fish after fish.  Pawpaw was too busy to fish, stringing her fish.  Up and down the grate the scene was being played out over and over as fish leapt and danced over the water as anglers held on to hard bent rods and cranked down on star drags, working to get fish close enough to the grate, hidden beneath the rushing water, to be netted.  Whoops and shouts announced another fish hooked, lost or netted.  Almost, as if a spigot had been turned off, the fish quit coming.  The school had passed but the excitement lingered as stories were compared and fishermen who had been netting waited for the next school to make their appearance.

Half and hour later more fish began swimming by the grate and it was Pawpaw’s turn to flip, hook and whoop.  Onie netted for him and when that school had passed both stringers were full.  It was time to clean but the cleaning table was occupied and would be for hours before Pawpaw would get his turn.  In the meantime he netted for others.

With darkness closing in the stingers were floated downstream to the cleaning station and Pawpaw started the job.  Ted appeared at his elbow and offered his assistance.  Ted is a fast skilled fileter and with darkness only minutes away Pawpaw welcomed the offer.  He stepped aside and Ted finished the job in a third of time it would have taken the writer.

With filets iced down Pawpaw went into the coach.  Onie was in bed.  It was twelve thirty.  Pawpaw was chilled to the bone.  He sat in front of the heater until he felt he could go to bed without freezing Onie.

At one thirty he joined her.  A light rain fell.

A MAN’S GOTTA DO

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Onie was up at eight to go to town with Sandy but first she had to have a cup of coffee, something to eat, a shower and get dressed.  She was ready by the appointed hour of ten.  They left.  They were off to Three Bears, in Kenai and Safeway in Soldotna.  Along the way they stopped for lunch at a Mexican food restaurant.

Pawpaw slept on until ten thirty when he awakened to a quiet cold coach.  The temp had dropped to forty two overnight and was still lingering close by.  Rousing himself he got his heavy robe and headed for the door to get the morning paper.  It was just inside the door.  Apparently Onie had placed it there when she left.  She had also made him a pot of tea.  What a sweetheart!

Rummaging through the refrigerator he found the start of a good healthy breakfast, cantaloupe.  He sat down to read the paper, eat and work the crossword.  The cantaloupe ran out before the paper and crossword so he switched to fudge and tea.  Several pieces later the paper had been read, one crossword worked and a good start made on a second.  A man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do.

Switching gears he made calls to local barber shops looking for one that really knows how to cut hair rather than one that just puts a numbered thing on a pair of clippers and shaves off what ever sticks out.   He found one, made these notes, then dressed and headed off to get his ears lowered.  On the way he dropped off fish that had been caught last night, at Custom.

Back at the house, itching from hair under the collar and inside his shirt, Pawpaw was ready for a shower but first he helped Onie load the canner, she had returned while he was away, lit the fire and vacuum packed some salmon tails.  Then he headed off to the showers.

Back from the showers he visited with Kurt and then checked on the canner before joining Onie, Kurt, Sandy and Dennis for happy hour at Sandy’s.  Her salmon salad was good in the extreme.  Sitting under their canopy we heard the faint sound of rain drops but soon the faint sound grew louder.  Taking the hint we made our way back to the Marlin.  On the way in the canner fire was turned off.

Inside Onie turned on GSN to Deal or No Deal.  Pawpaw went back out to check on the success of those who had gone halibut fishing.  They had a good catch but had to endure ten foot swells to get their fish. 

The rain was coming down harder as Pawpaw made his way back to the coach.  Inside he sat down at his laptop.  GSN was airing Millionaire.  Reception was interrupted frequently by the heavy rain for the next half hour.

When the rainstorm broke the reception returned, uninterrupted, and Millionaire continued.

Pawpaw took a break for supper.

He and Onie enjoyed the meal together, watching the tube, as they do sometimes back on lake Road.

Supper over and the kitchen cleaned they continued with the TV distraction, in their bedroom, where they switched to Tru Tv before going to sleep at midnight.

YET ANOTHER FEAST

Friday, July 31, 2009

Onie woke at eight and let Grumpy sleep on.  She had breakfast, coffee and a shower before dressing and leaving at ten with Priscilla, Nancy, Kay and Ruth for a day of yard saleing and lunch at Veronica’s, in Kenai.

Grumpy, the writer, got up at ten thirty.  After a quick shower and a bite of breakfast he began a list of chores he had laid out for himself, on Thursday.

The holding tanks were emptied, the fresh water tank was filled, the trash taken out, the few dishes were washed, the Cummins was started and run for half an hour, the Generac generator was also cranked and run during the same time, the shore power was turned off during this time, the house batteries were serviced, the coach was re-leveled and the fire ring cleared of un-burnt debris.  Thus the morning and early afternoon passed for him.

In mid afternoon his attention turned to his laptop and a few notes before his attention turned toward the river.  Surely fish were swimming upriver, just waiting for his Kenai flip and snatch.  Donning his waders, getting his rod and bucket he headed for his favorite spot.  A hundred casts later with nary a bump and a back that was complaining about too much twisting and turning, he quit the river.

Shortly after, at five, Onie came home.  She had multiple new treasures and we both went inside the Marlin to see them and for her to model a few.  All that shopping and then modeling had stirred Onie’s appetite so we began supper preparations.

The writer went out and lit the charcoal grill, throwing on a couple of pieces of mesquite for good measure, while Onie prepared sliced tomatoes and avocados.

Sitting outside in the afternoon sun we enjoyed our brief salads while the charcoal turned a nice gray, ready to be cooked over.  In addition to the steaks we had for grilling Onie had some boneless skinless chicken breasts ready for the grill.  They went on first.  When Onie had the mushrooms and onions, the corn, the baked potato and spinach ready the steak went on the grill.  Four minutes later the steaks were put on our plates and we settled down to eat yet one more feast.

Later that evening we fixed the light in the bedroom that had gone on the fritz a few days earlier.

With a full day behind us we reclined on our bed and watched TV until midnight.

SIX FEET HIGH AND RISING

Saturday, August 1, 2009

The night had been short and the writer had failed to sleep two rows at a time so when he awoke at three thirty he was still tired.  Three and a half hours sleep is enough when one is thirty five but not when one is twice that.  None the less he got up and got dressed, inside the fifty degree coach.  Outside it was thirty six.

Picking up his backpack, lunch basket and insulated coveralls, after giving Onie a goodbye kiss, he went out the door and to the truck, at Kurt’s, where the other aspiring halibut fishermen waited.  After loading his tuff in the covered bed he walked around and took a seat behind Jeff, who was driving.

Next to him sat his brother Scott.  In the back seat with me was Dan.  We were waiting for Chuck and Dave.  When they arrived and took their seats we were off.

At four twenty we pulled into the Holiday gas bar and convenience store in Soldotna.  The guys piled out for coffee and snacks.  The writer got a diet coke and fried pie.  The fried pie was one that would be eaten several times over before its bad effect on the digestive tract had passed.  The memory has not passed and will remain for a long time as a reminder not to buy anything fried and cold.  Fried is bad enough for the writer but the addition of cold is almost a recipe for disaster.

Heading past the bank in Soldotna we saw a sign advertising the temp as thirty four, a sure sign it would be cold on the water, today.

With some of the fishers to be, dozing, Jeff drove us to Anchor River and Anchor Point where we met our guide, Mike Garcia, who had his twenty eight foot aluminum boat in tow, at six.  Along the way we had seen five moose.

Gear was loaded into the boat and we boarded, climbing up on the wheel wells and over the side.  Fred, the deck hand helped us with our gear. Mike soon made an appearance and got on the boat’s radio.  While we watched the whitecaps, just off shore, he talked to some of his boat captain buddies.  They were already afloat and facing six foot seas and they were rising.  Off the air Mike talked to us about the weather and how we felt about launching on such a day.  He said whether or not we went depended on how his crew, us, felt about rough water.  To a man we said we had come to fish.  He didn’t seem to be convinced and tarried a bit longer still looking at the whitecaps and talking to friends via his radio and cell phone.  Twenty minutes after we had been hooked up to the huge tractor that could launch the boat off the beach we were still sitting in the same stop, blocking launching traffic.  Mike made a decision and told the tractor operator to launch us.  Down the shore side bluff we went to the beach and the five hundred yard trip to the waters edge.   There the tractor turned around and began backing us into the water.  When the boat floated free in five feet of water the tractor left us, pulling the trailer, the engines, twin one fifty Yamaha four strokers, were started and Mike began backing into deeper water.  Waves splashed over the fan tail.

Turned around we headed into the building seas.  With each forward motion of the throttles the ride became rougher and eventually the motion of the boat became so violent that the screws on the engines were coming out of the water as the boat pounded its way forward.  Mike would reduce throttle and the bow would crash down through the oncoming wave before he throttled up again and we would surge into the next wave.  With each crash of the bow, water and spray surged over the small cabin where we sat, braced against the walls.  Mike turned around to look at his crew and saw six smiling faces.  He pressed on.   Fifteen or twenty minutes passed before Mike announced a change in plans of where we would fish.  He altered course.  We were now running in the troughs and the boat rode up and over each of the crests of the swells, sometimes rolling thirty five or more degrees before righting herself and meeting the next swell.  It was an interesting ride.

An hour passed.  Still we were rocking in the troughs while making slow headway.  Mike slowed even more as he began to get a reading on his GPS.  We were near a place he had fished before, quite sometime ago actually, but today we would give it another try.  Fred went forward to drop the hook.  We had come six point two miles from our launch spot.

With the anchor holding fast we began putting on our foul weather gear.  A few minutes later we were all standing on a rolling deck, holding halibut rods waiting for a bite.  We had dropped our baits one hundred twenty eight feet down, carried there by three pound weights.  With only a thirteen foot tide the tide was not strong but Mike felt the three pounders were in order.  The writer would have opted for two or perhaps even one.  While the boat rolled on the swells, we waited for our first bites. When they came and the resulting fish came to the surface, they were small, really small. They were sent back down to grow up.

While we waited the wind increased and so did the swells, now maybe getting to seven or eight feet with an occasional rogue wave thrown in.

As we neared slack tide the size of the fish increased and we boated, and put into the fish box, some fish in the twenty five pound class.  Then some thirty to thirty five pounders came in followed by one at forty.  Spirits were picking up with the fishing prospects.  When a fifty pound fish was gaffed and brought aboard everyone was excited.  Then slack tide hit.  Then the bite stopped, altogether.  We still needed four or five fish.

Half an hour later the tide began to flow out and with it the halibut became active.  In addition with the wind and tide going the same direction the seas began to lay.  They were far from flat but at least they weren’t building and we knew it was just a matter of time before we would be standing on a deck that had far less movement to it.  With the ebb tide came a timeline, one that said your fishing time is now limited.  Once the tide begins to run really fast, and it does here, it is impossible to get bait down to the halibut so we had an hour or an hour and a half, maximum.

A few more good sized fish came in and were boxed.  We were down to needing a couple of fish.  The writer had seen a partial carcass of a salmon in the bait box and now asked it be put on his hook.  Fred double hooked it and the writer eased it to the bottom.  Almost immediately he felt the tap tap of a halibut bite.  He lifted his rod tip and the bite stopped.  The sequence was repeated several times over the next twenty minutes during which time another forty pound fish went in the box.  We were down to our last fish.  The tap tap continued along with the rod tip lift and the cessation of the bite until the rod tip was lifted and a gentle tug was made on the other end of the line.  The rod tip was lowered while tension was kept on the line.  The tug continued.  The rod tip was raised again and this time it was met with a strong downward pull.  Reeling down and lifting again the lifting motion resulted in line spinning off the reel as a halibut on the ocean floor took off with the salmon and hook.  Pawpaw, the writer, gripped the rod and tightened down the drag.  The reel quit spinning, slowed and stopped.  Now the writer began lowering the rod tip and reeling as the rod tip went toward the water.  Then he lifted the rod tip and repeated the sequence.  While that was going on Mike came over and eased off on the drag as he was concerned the line might part and we would lose the fish.  Now more line was stripped off the reel before the fish stopped its run.  With the pump, reel down, pull up, reel down and keep going line was slowly being recovered.  Six to eight minutes later we saw color.  The fish was a good one.  When we saw color he saw the boat and headed back down.  Being tired he didn’t go too far before succumbing to the pressure of the hook and line and the rod held in Pawpaw’s hands.  A couple of minutes later the fish was back near the surface, close enough for Mike to lean over and gaff it.  Then a second gaff was driven into the fish and it was brought aboard.  We had our last fish.  Estimates of the weight ranged from sixty five to eighty pounds.  It was probably around seventy five.

        Picture to come

With this fish in the box we had limits.  Pictures of the fishing crew and Fred were taken.

        Picture of crew and Fred to come

For some of the guys it was there first trip to Alaska and the largest halibut hey had ever seen.  They wanted their picture with the fish.

        Picture of Dave with fish to come

When the guys had their fill of picture taking the anchor was hoisted and we began a drift, toward shore, while Mike began filleting the fish.

With the fish filleted and in bags Mike started the engines and we headed in to the beach.  A few short minutes later he radioed the beach and told them we were coming in and to put his trailer in the water.  Five minutes later we were riding the one and two foot swells to a gentle docking between the risers on the trailer.  Securely hooked to the trailer the same tractor that had launched us now pulled us out of the water, up the beach and to the parking/loading area.  Now it was the unloading area.  We did just that, taking our gear and fish with us.  We each thanked Mike and Fred for a good day, loaded into the truck and with Jeff driving, once again, headed for Castaway.

Most of the guys quickly fell asleep.  Jeff drove on getting us home at two.

Somewhat rested the crew began the process of getting the fish ready to freeze.  When Mike filleted the fish he left the skin on.  Now Jeff skinned each filet, the writer cut them into one to one and a half pound portions.  Scott took the cut fish and placed it in vacuum sealer bags and handed it to Chuck who was running the sealer.  When the bags were sealed he dropped them into a cooler.  A long two hours later the job was done.

The crew had now been up thirteen hours and most had gotten three hours or less sleep last night.  Weary and still feeling the boat heaving under foot they walked about the camp like so many walking wounded, bleary eyed and ready for bed.

Bed would wait as the crew was more hungry than tired and a camp gathering was taking place at six.  Hot soup and cornbread would be served as well as salads and deserts.

While Nancy and Bill were hosting the event they had neither the room nor experience to pull it off so Onie and Sandy helped with the actual event taking place next to the Marlin.

On schedule, at six, the crowd began gathering and soon the fresh hot soup and cornbread was being served up.  Folks found chairs or tables and he evening got under way.

Sandy Camp waving, Priscilla Gotto photographing Jay and Kaye

Ted Gotto, Chuck and Lavon Lockner and Sandy Camp

Kurt Tatsumi with host Bill Hager

Sandy requested some fifties music so the boom box was brought out of the coach and the CDs began to spin.  Earth Angel and songs from that era kept the company entertained until after ten when the party began to break up with some folks drifting away with the smoke.  Still other folk lingered around the fire that had been lit about seven.

Onie left the fire at midnight.  The writer and Dan warmed themselves at the fire while they talked until the last stick of wood had been burned.  That was one thirty.

Pawpaw had been up twenty two hours with three and a half hours sleep.  He staggered into the coach, brushed his teeth and fell into bed.

FIREPROOF

Sunday, August 2, 2009

The thermometer seemed stuck on forty eight degrees at nine when we rose to get ready for church.

Pawpaw showered while Onie got the steel cut oats and tea ready for breakfast.    After breakfast it was Onie’s turn in the shower, then we dressed and headed off to church.  In church Onie kept squeezing Pawpaw’s hand to be sure he didn’t doze off.  Lack of sleep had caught up with him.

Back from church at twenty after twelve Pawpaw stripped off his clothes and went straight to bed setting his alarm for three. In minutes, perhaps even seconds, he was fast asleep,

Onie talked to Tracy, catching up on Texas news and weather as well as Haley’s summer camps in singing and acting.  The call over she went to Kurt’s trailer where she spot cleaned the carpet for him. 

Three thirty found Pawpaw still lying in bed but stirring to get up.  Dressed he walked down to Kurt’s rig to tell him, Krista and the guys so long.  The death of a loved one had unexpectedly shortened Kurt and Krista’s stay.  Instead of dropping off the guys, Dave, Dan, Jeff and Scott, at the airport tomorrow and then returning for another week or ten days they would be driving home to Iowa, Idiots Out Wandering Around.  They expected to be there by Thursday afternoon.  Now was the time to give and receive hugs and well wishes.

With hugs and well wishes exchanged Kurt and Pawpaw walked down to the river for a visit.  At five thirty Pawpaw left to go back to church.

Tonight was movie night.  Fireproof, a movie Pawpaw has heard about was being shown.  Onie opted not to go as she thought there would be no closed captioned and she needs that to enjoy a movie.  The movie, two hours in length, should be required viewing for everyone contemplating marriage, now married, once married or never married.  The message is one of love and commitment, of covenants, not contracts, of good choices, not poor choices and of staying the course instead of quitting.

At eight thirty he was on his way back home, to Onie, with a renewed appreciation for her and all her love and labors.  

In the Marlin Onie was playing Bookworm.  We visited about the movie before he headed to the river to visit with Ted, Bill and Burt.  The visit was short and he was back in the coach at nine.  Fresh sliced tomato and avocado were in a bowl on the table and grilled chicken, mushrooms and spinach sat waiting on the stovetop.

We dined before turning to Onie’s game of Bookworm where we stayed until Krista came by at midnight to say goodbye and bring back sheets Onie had loaned her.  She was short a set to be able to make beds for all the guys that had stayed with them.  Now she was returning them, washed and folded along with her thanks.  She stayed just a few minutes, telling Onie how much she would be missed, before heading out the door to more waiting chores.

Onie and the writer got ready for bed and climbed in at twelve thirty.