PULLING

Sunday, June 27

A spattering of rain had been heard during the night. Now at seven thirty the phone was ringing. Onie was calling from Skagway where she and Eloise were about to board the ferry for Juneau. They will spend the day there and return to spend the night at Skagway. They are having a grand time.

Tea water was started and when the tea ball was dropped and the tea was steeping a cup of Chai tea latte was made. The paper was bought in, opened and read then the crosswords were looked at before breakfast was started. The last of the biscuits, two, were heated, buttered and placed on a paper towel while a piece of sausage was nuked. Pencil in one hand and fork in the other, breakfast and crosswords were begun.

Breakfast was finished before a crossword but it was time to toddle off to the shower. It was off to the shower and back at ten fifteen. Church clothes were donned and then the writer stepped outside to wait for his ride, Becky.

Together they rode to and attended church. Once again pastor Tim brought a good message.

Home at twenty after twelve the writer pulled off his boots and began looking at the unfinished crosswords when he saw Kurt pull up outside the Marlin. The writer met him at the door. Becky was inviting him up for a low cal brunch. He accepted and changed clothes while Kurt went to see Don and Julie.

Back at the Marlin the guys got in the GMC and headed into the mist, up the hill.

Moisture falls here, in June, on a regular basis. Sometimes it is rain, sometimes it is mist and sometimes it is fog. The writer has his own method for determining if it is raining, misting or if we are just experiencing fog. If he can hear it on top of the coach it is rain. If he can't hear it on top of the coach but can hear it on the awning it is mist. If it can only be felt but not heard anywhere it is fog.

When the duo arrived at the house Becky was busy in the kitchen. She was cooking scrambled eggs, okay, sausage patties, sort of okay and huge cinnamon rolls, not exactly okay or low cal.

When Becky was finished with her cooking she served us. The eggs were good. The sausage was excellent and the cinnamon roll was out of this world. Being out of this world the writer knew that meant it was in a vacuum and all the calories had been sucked out of it so it was enjoyed more than a mere mundane roll.

After brunch Becky repaired to the couch for a little nap.

The fearless duo went to the basement for a little electrical work. Kurt wired fixtures while the writer, no electrician, pulled wire to boxes.

Later we went upstairs to watch a movie, Captains Courageous, a movie made in nineteen thirty nine but still very timely and entertaining.

Outside the mist was still falling so Kurt gave the writer a ride down the hill.

At the coach the writer grabbed his rod and headed to the grate where his luck continued unchanged, no fish.

In the coach he had an avocado, turned on GSN and sat down to write.

At eleven thirty he gave up writing and went to bed.

THOSE WHO DON'T WALK DON'T EAT

Monday, June 28

The ground was dry this morning when the writer woke. Apparently the mist that fell all day yesterday was now missing in action where as yesterday it had been misting in action. At any rate the paper was dry and the fifty two felt a lot warmer than it had on Sunday.

As was becoming habit a cup of Chai tea latte was made and enjoyed with the ADN while the tea water heated.

Later the too easy crossword was worked with breakfast.

Being without a car, here, may not be a big disadvantage, at least in the short run. This morning Frank stopped by to see if I needed anything from town. A little cash would be nice so he will pick me up around two and take me into Soldotna to cash a check. While the writer was checking, reading and replying to emails Kay and Jay came by to ask if the writer needed anything from town and to invite him to supper. He said he would come if he gets in an hour's walk today. The waist is wasting away and must be taken in control, no walk, no food.

After both hands on the clock passed the number twelve the writer showered and dressed before sitting down to write a few words as not many more are needed to report his meager activities.

While he was surfing the web a toot from the horn on Frank's jeep indicated it was two o'clock and time to go to town. Riding in we visited about the world's problems and solved most of the major ones. We dashed off a quick text message to Obama as well as some of the world's effective leaders and explained the solutions to the poor economy, wars, rumors of wars, earthquakes, tsunamis, famine, pestilence and the few remaining honest politicians. When they are gone Obama will have smooth sailing.

In town Frank took the writer to the bank where he cashed a check so he will have some money to spend in town where he rarely goes. Then Frank went to Fred Meyer to pick up some milk and a few other things. While he shopped the writer walked the parking lot exercising and counting out-of-state license plates while he went. In more than half an hour he counted four out of state plates, including Frank's.

Back at camp Frank slowed to five miles an hour, the camp speed limit, then stopped at the coach and let the writer out.

He grabbed his rod and bucket of tackle and headed to the grate. Several hundred casts later he returned to the Marlin, fishless.

Inside he watched thirty minutes of GSN before heading over to Kay and Jay's rig. He hadn't walked an hour so he would have to restrict his intake accordingly. Kay had prepared a salad as well as potatoes. Jay had cooked the brats. We visited before and after supper.

About eight thirty the writer returned to the coach. Kay and Jay are early risers and they go to bed early, too. They would be up a couple of hours in the morning before the writer opened his eyes.

In the coach the writer read a little and then watched some TV before turning in.

EQUALITY FOR ALL

Tuesday, June 29

We are losing it, daylight that is. The summer solstice has come and gone and now the amount of daylight is dwindling. One of the readers might ask; “Just how much is it dwindling?” and the answer would be one minute thirty seven seconds, yesterday. Yes, the writer knows that is not a lot but one should be aware that this is an escalating number and by the time we reach the last of August that number will be several minutes each day so that in less than two weeks an hour of daylight will have left us.

In the meantime the long daylight hours allow for lots of outdoor activities for people, plants and animals. Last Wednesday Onie planted some lettuce seeds in her new planter. Friday the new plants broke through the top of the soil and now the planter box has a bright green covering in it. Tomorrow the writer will take a picture to show to the unbelievers.

Last night while the rain fell it was actually almost dark Today clouds and rain are in the forecast. The clouds are here but the rain is still in the offing. We had a warm night with the thermometer barley reaching below fifty before beginning its climb back above the mark.

The paper was read and crossword worked while breakfast was eaten and tea was enjoyed. Just as the last letter had been placed in the crossword our friend Mike called. He will be here on the ninth of July and his lovely wife will join him on the twenty eighth. While on the phone he inquired as to who was in camp, who is expected, how the fishing is going, what the weather is like and commented on our website. The writer inquired about his arrival time and the doings in Texas. All is good in Texas for the moment. There are no impending hurricanes and the legislature is not in session so Texans are safe for the time being.

An hour later the laptops were turned on and a few notes made before the writer checked his email, the news and markets.

Then with the clock approaching one it was time to shower and get dressed.

A phone call was placed to Tennessee to check on my friend Joe. His daughter told me he had been moved home and will be receiving care from a home health care provider. She also told me that his insurance company has refused to pay for his pain medication. The writer checked on line and directed her to the department of insurance in Tennessee and their website. She can make an online complaint and in all probability the carrier will have to pay for the pain medicine, under orders from the state, if the doctor writes a letter stating that the medicine is needed and there is no substitute. It is a great comfort to the writer to know that the folks in Washington have replaced this outmoded and ineffective program with one that will be administered by faceless bureaucrats whose only desire is to not make waves, hold their job and retire with a good benefit.

It is certain that these people will be compassionate and hold the patient's comfort and well being above all else, even if government mandates say someone seventy one years old should be prepared to die, as they have no more real value and the money to keep them alive can be better spent elsewhere, so everyone will be better off without them. But, the writer realizes this will only happen if the people in Washington are no different from those in Amsterdam, Berlin, Quebec or Paris where national health care has been the norm for years. Yes those countries do have older people still alive but the writer has lost personal friends to such a system where the money wasn't there to treat even a young man with cancer and so he died because the government hadn't enough money in the budget to treat him. Yes it will be a grand day when Obamacare is in full effect and the world is rid of old worthless derelict folks. Of course the world won't be completely free from old derelicts since the folks in the Oval Office and those hallowed halls of Congress were somehow left out of Obamacare and will be able to lie and live as long as ANY effort will keep them breathing, regardless of quality of life or expense. Such is the way of justice and equality for all.

The writer wrote on until the fingers and mind were numb when he abandoned his efforts and went to the grate. There his arms and back grew numb before he left there and walked up the hill to visit Kurt and Becky a while.

Kurt and the writer went to the basement where ceiling was installed in a bedroom, a closet and part of the living area before they stopped and went upstairs where Becky had supper waiting.

With the sun still high in the sky, at eight thirty, the writer went down the hill to the coach where Stephen Ambrose's Undaunted Courage waited.

He read until ten when he went to bed.

DRIVER

Wednesday, June 2

After retiring early last evening the writer rose early this morning, greeting the day at seven.

Outside it was overcast and cool.

Inside a cup of hot Chai tea was brewed and downed before a shower was taken.

Then a breakfast of frosted mini wheats and tea was enjoyed while the paper was read and crosswords solved. Then the writer stepped outside to take a picture of lettuce.

One week's growth since planting seeds.

A few notes were made before a knock on the door announced the arrival of Gene. He and Darlene were ready to head to Seward and the train to Girdwood. Later they would continue their trip to Anchorage and eventually Fairbanks and Chena Hotsprings.

The writer transitioned into the driver an we headed out of camp, at eleven, and up the road to the Sterling Highway where we turned toward Seward, but before we left Sterling we stopped for fuel, at the Tesoro.

While fueling the driver said hello to a fellow fueler, Dick. He and his wife, Lorene, are on their first trip to Alaska. They are heading to Homer and hope to halibut fish on the morrow but have not a clue who to fish with or how to find a good guide. The driver told them he and Kurt would be in Homer tomorrow fishing with their friend, Larry Croft, and there were two spots still available on the Solitude, a nice six pack. Dick and Lorene were interested so the driver gave them Larry's name and phone number and said he hoped to see them on board.

Then the trio of Gene, Darlene and the driver continued on to Seward. The weather was good as was the road and conversation. We talked about religion and politics, however, all who know the driver are aware he is reticent to state his views of these subjects so his opinions are a mystery to those in his company.

Eighty one miles later we were in Seward.

For those who haven't been there, Seward is a seaport as well as the terminus of the Alaskan Railroad. In addition it is home to multiple places where one can pump up the local economy or view sea creatures at the Alaska Sea Life Center.

Our first stop was at the train station where luggage was placed in the care of an Alaskan Railroad employee and then Gene and Darlene went into the station to pick up their tickets. Reservations had been made and they had a confirmation number but the actual tickets had to be claimed, prior to boarding. Boarding would begin at five and all passengers had to be on board by a quarter of six. It was now about two thirty so we had ample time to part with some filthy lucre prior to their departure.

As fate would have it we found a good parking spot right in front of an emporium advertising just about anything an Alaskan tourist heart could desire except one thing, a Sarah Palin Tee shirt. Darlene has a daughter who is a big Sarah fan, as many of us are, and her sole request to Mom, Darlene, was a tee shirt bearing Sarah's likeness. It was not to be found at our first stop so we trudged on, here and there, finally ending up at the Blue Moose. The Blue Moose had been recommended by more than one shop keeper as the place to find Sarah stuff.

Inside the Blue Moose (that sounds kind of weird doesn't it) we found a salesperson who told us that yes, they do stock Sarah tee shirts, however--and isn't that the way it is when you really want something the salesperson will come out with a “however”--they are temporarily out of stock. If Darlene, who lives in Iowa, could simply come back next week they will probably have more in. A fine how do you do that turned out to be. Darlene and Gene will be somewhere north of Anchorage next week and won't be back in Seward, this year. The driver suggested that perhaps Darlene should consider ordering said tee shirt off the web. She settled for a Sarah calendar for the moment.

The minutes were slipping by so we headed down to the Sea Life Center.

Gene treated the driver to the cost of entrance, one arm, part of a leg and a bit of hair, the hair was discounted due to our ages, and we were off on an odyssey through the center, exploring, reading, looking and learning. Sea birds, fish and sea mammals are all on display in surroundings as realistic as possible. At each monstrous aquarium are pictures and descriptions of the creatures one is viewing. At the display where one can get up close and personal with some of the creatures Darlene ventured to touch a live octopus but drew the line at caressing a sea cucumber, even though he was kind of cute and multicolored. Later she found his cousin in an aquarium at a distance she much preferred.

Perhaps the most popular creature, and certainly the largest, was a male sea lion. He weighs in at about twenty two hundred pounds and spends his time, when he is not eating, swimming in his personal tank. He appeared to be as interested in the tourists as they were in him for he swam within inches of the glass wall, every minute or two.

Our last stop inside the Sea Life Center was at a screen in a darkened room where a movie was under way. It was going into some detail about many of the animals on display and showing them in the wild. Gene and the driver watched a few minutes before joining Darlene. Due to water scenes with lots of movement she had opted to pass the movie.

Back at the truck we decided we had just enough time for an ice cream before the traveling couple had to board the train. We stopped at a place Onie and the driver had enjoyed ice cream on a previous trip. Each of us had a scoop of our favorite flavor before continuing on to the train, at five thirty.

With their baggage already on board all the duo had to do was climb aboard. They paused at the steps long enough for the driver to snap a picture of the happy couple.

With Gene and Darlene on board the train the driver headed back to Sterling and Castaway.

He arrived at eight and went into the Marlin and began packing for a halibut trip. The plan was for him and Kurt to drive to Homer tonight, spend the night on the Solitude and be fresh and ready to fish in the morning.

He had just finished packing when Kurt appeared at the door and said he thought he would like to spend the night at home and leave early in the morning.

The change in plans seemed like a good idea to the driver who had just spent a few hours in the truck. We agreed on leaving at three A.M. The driver will keep the truck and pick Kurt up then.

With a little time to relax the driver picked up a book and read for a while before working on a story.

Tired in body and mind he gave up and watched TV until eleven thirty.

He fell asleep to the sound of wind and rain beating on the coach.

DYNAMIC DUO

Thursday, July 1

It wasn't until two thirty that the driver rose and had a cup of Chai tea but that two thirty happened to be A.M. not P.M.

He quickly dressed and headed up to Kurt's getting there right at three.

Fishermen know theirs' is a serious business and as a result they don't like to be late. Kurt was ready, standing by his gear. It was quickly loaded and he slid behind the wheel. We were on the road at three oh two.

One never knows what lays in wait on the road to Homer. This morning it was clear skies and over a dozen moose in the bar ditches and near by brush. The first ones were just past the Kenai River bridge in Soldotna--a cow and her new calves--grazing near a road paving crew. We watched them while we waited for a pilot car to take us through the area.

With the clear beautiful morning we made good time and were in Homer just before five.

In the McDonald's parking lot we waited for them to open. Kurt had a couple of breakfast sandwiches and the writer had a sausage in a bun. Being the first ones in the store we were sure to get fresh food, not food that had been sitting under a heat lamp for an hour or so.

For those who have never experienced the descent into Homer, on a clear bright morning, the only thing that can really be said is that it is absolutely breath taking, stunningly beautiful. As one descends the hill the town and the Spit are stretched out below. The Spit striking out into the smooth blue bay, the towering snow capped mountains on the far side of the bay and the sun beaming down on the snow with the snow sparkling like the finest diamonds in the world. Yes, it was five o'clock but the sun was already high in the sky.

We parked, gathered our gear and headed for the Solitude. We were the first on board. Inside it was nice and warm. We stowed our gear and were just about to seek out a warm comfortable bunk when the two Larrys arrived. We exchanged greeting and then went to the bunks, closed the door and fell asleep.

We roused momentarily when the twin diesels fired but were fast asleep again when Captain Larry eased the Solitude out of her berth and started for the channel and then the open bay.

We slept for the ride out to the fishing grounds. The change in the tempo of the engines woke us. We rolled out of our bunks and went to greet the day, again, and our fellow fishermen. The day looked nothing like what we had left in Homer. Where there had been smooth water there was now a good chop on top of three foot swells. Where there had been warmth there was cold and where there had been sun there was now rain.

Our fishing mates were from Maine, not far from where our friends, Ted and Priscilla, live and California. The ones from California were the same folks I had met yesterday at the Tesoro station in Sterling while buying fuel.

Larry, Jr. is an experienced, competent go getter of a deck hand. The anchor had barely taken hold of the rocky bottom when he was busy placing baited rods in everyone's hands and giving a few instructions to the new comers to halibut fishing.

The writer and Kurt had lowered their baits to the bottom a hundred ten feet below and were soon, very soon, cranking up halibut. The pair are not greedy fishermen but have learned from experience that the first halibut caught are often smaller then those that follow so the first catch was returned to the sea as was the second, third, fourth and so on. The fish were in the twenty five to thirty five pound range but the duo had come for bigger fish and it was bigger fish they would have.

Clothed in rain suits and water proof boots as well as several layers of clothes they braved the cold wind blown rain, cranking in fish after fish while the novices on board marveled at the ease with which these seasoned veterans hooked and landed the wily halibut. Everyone on board knew that this pair would probably land fish in the hundred to two hundred pound range before the day was over. In the meantime they had Larry Jr. throw the small fish back, with reckless abandonment.

After watching the dynamic duo boat a couple dozen chicken halibut Captain Larry decided there were no fish here worthy of the efforts of the pair, so he moved the boat to another location.

The wind, rain, cold and waves followed. The small halibut didn't. As a matter of fact no halibut followed us and in addition there were none waiting when we got there. What was waiting was black rock fish, sometimes known as black sea bass. Armed with lite tackle and some silver spoons Kurt and Tom soon had their limit of five each.

The other four fishermen managed eleven between them before it was time to move on in search of the “BIG” halibut.

We had started fishing on an ebb tide. We had fished through the slack water and now the incoming was really incoming. It was impossible to stay anchored and get a weight and bait to the bottom where the halibut live. With our fishing duo needing four fish, two each, the limit, it was decided to drift over a hump and pick up the limit there.

A drift was made. The duo caught some ten pounders. Another drift was made. More ten pounders came on board. Thinking back to the start of the day the pair agreed that a thirty five pound fish was a big fish after all. With each drift Larry announced that the day was growing long and we needed to be headed in but each time a ten pound fish came on board it was quickly sent back to the deep to grow up. On the third drift a couple of twenty pounders found their way into the fish box and on the fifth drift a couple of twenty five pounders joined them. It was time and past time to be headed for the home berth.

Larry Jr. began fileting the fish but not before letting us get some pictures.

Larry Jr., Larry Sr.'s deck hand.

Larry Jr. removes fish from fish box for filleting and photo ops.

Fish ready to fillet.

With Captain Larry taking us in and Larry, Jr fileting the fish there wasn't a whole lot for the wunderkind to do except get some much needed rest. The did, back in the bunks.

While the boat ran toward shore Larry, Jr. fileted the four halibut and ten rock fish the sleepers had caught. At the berth they were already in bags ready to be put in their cooler for transport home.

The writer visited with the Larrys while Kurt quickly went to the truck and brought back the cooler. Then it was time to say adios, take our cooler, head up the ramp and start moving in the direction of Sterling. It was six fifteen. We drove for just about a mile.

We stopped at a place that had out a sign advertising fresh Katchamack Bay oysters. We went in and came out with two dozen, a knife to open them, some red sauce, Tabasco sauce and some lemon juice; Kurt's treat.

Kurt drove and the writer sat with the bucket of oysters between his legs shucking them. One raw oyster on the half shell went to the driver and the next to the shucker with each letting the morsels slide down their throat unassisted by any condiment. The last one was gone by the time they reached Clam Gulch.

Refreshed by the oysters the duo reached Kurt's house at eight fifteen. They unloaded the cooler, went to his garage where he has a processing area set up complete with vacuum packers. As he skinned the fish the writer placed them in bags and sealed them. When that part of the process was complete the bags were placed in the flash freezer where the temp was minus twenty.

Becky had been busy preparing supper, while we worked, and now it was served up; salad, rock fish and potatoes. It was nine when we sat down and the writer was home by ten. He showered and was in bed at ten thirty.

Onie and Aunt Eloise got home at eleven and were all tucked in by eleven thirty.

Onie and Pawpaw were back in their bed, together again. Their company slept on the sofa bed.

LOUIE'S

Friday, July 2

It wasn't until nine that the writer dragged himself from the bed and joined the ladies who had been up since eight, when it was fifty three and cloudy. Yesterday had been a long day and he was still recovering from it.

Onie and Eloise had finished their steel cut oats and were on there way out the door when the writer sat down to his breakfast which was the same as theirs.

Breakfast and the paper finished he headed to the lodge for a shower.

Clean and dressed he cleaned out his back pack and hung his rain suit up to dry.

A walk up the hill, at ten, took him to the house where he, Kurt and Becky worked on hanging ceiling in the basement. Becky served a snack at noon, fresh baked cookies and brownies washed down with iced tea. Then we returned to the basement to hang more ceiling.

The labors ceased at five and the three went down to the coach to start a campfire and wait for Onie and Eloise to return. They arrived at six.

The five of us sat around the campfire until seven thirty when we loaded in Kurt's truck and headed up to Kenai and Louie's, a nice restaurant. Have I mentioned that the folks here aren't particular about what is on your back as long as you have gold or long green in your pocket. We were welcomed in our smoky camp clothes and enjoyed a very good meal.

Back home at nine thirty Onie and Eloise went inside the coach while Kurt and Becky went up the hill. The writer opted to sit at the campfire until rain drove him inside at ten.

By ten thirty all was quest in the Marlin as its occupants were in bed.

THAT THRILLING JERK

Saturday, July 3

We were each up at eight.

David Matthew called. While we talked the sky spit rain down onto the coach. It was forty eight.

After donning our bathrobes Onie and the the writer went to the kitchen/dining room/living room where Aunt Eloise was reading the paper.

Coffee was made with the Keurig and then the tea water was started. With the water for tea heating the writer started mixing up pancake batter. The navigator began cooking bacon in the microwave. Fifteen minutes later we sat down to pancakes, tea, coffee, figs, sorghum syrup and no sugar syrup. Breakfast was enjoyed by each of us.

After breakfast the ladies cleaned up the kitchen and washed and dried the dishes then headed off to the lodge to shower and wash clothes. The writer went along, carrying a basket full of clothes and stayed to help Onie get the clothes in the washers and started. Then he went back to the coach for a quick shower.

Notes for several days were jotted down in the laptop and then the driver became the honey wagon operator. While the tanks were emptying fresh water was run into that holding tank. Then the honey wagon was emptied and put back in its storage place until it was needed again.

The ladies were back from the showers and had brought most of the clothes back with them. A few items remained so the driver went over, got them, folded them and brought them back to the Marlin.

The rain that had started earlier continued to fall, so instead of walking up the hill to help with the ceiling he drove the toad up to the house. When he got there the ceiling was almost completed so he returned to the Marlin where he wrote for a while.

A check of the count of reds, passing the Soldotna weir counter, earlier in the day had indicated 4300 fish had come in Thursday and 4573 came in Friday. The writer forsook the laptop in favor of his fishing rod and headed to the river.

More thrashing and beating of the water yielded the same results as previous days, nothing. After half an hour the writer returned to the coach and readied for the Mexican Fiesta at Don and Julie's.

Onie had been working all afternoon, assisted by Aunt Eloise, preparing food for the celebration on the morrow, July 4^th. When the duo had the last details completed we walked the short distance to the Fiesta.

Enchiladas, re-fried beans, tacos, guacamole, salsa and plenteous chips were spread on many tables. Folks roamed back and forth, reaching, dipping and surveying the spread before taking up plates, eating utensils and falling to, eating as if their last meal was last week. Mexican music accompanied the whir of the margarita machine. Soon groups were seated at tables, visiting with old friends and making new ones.

After a while the river beckoned to the writer again and he responded by once again getting his rod and bucket and heading for the grate. A few hundred casts later he had a fish on and then off but at least his efforts had been rewarded by that thrilling jerk on the end of the line.

He was ready to go the coach. It was cold and windy on the grate. The coach would be warm and snug.

Eloise beat him there by a few steps. She was cold, too.

Inside she wrapped herself in a blanket while the writer turned on the heater, then he sat at the laptop. But before sitting down he turned on the History Channel. “The Revolution” was showing at it played while the writer tapped away and Eloise tried to warm herself.

By nine thirty they were both ready to go to bed.

The two made out the couch for Eloise and then the writer repaired to the bedroom.

Onie would come in later.