FATHER'S DAY

Sunday, June 20, 2010

All was quiet when we woke at seven.

There was no rain falling on the roof and the heater was also silent. The night temp had been mild, the low had been around fifty, and the coach holds heat pretty well so there was no need to have the heater run.
 

Onie made her coffee and started the driver's tea water.

On the table was a Father's Day card, resting on the top of a new pair of blue jeans. These jeans are truly blue, not the faded ragged kind sported by the younger crowd but true blue with no holes save those for the legs and waist. A quick modeling by the recipient showed that Onie had not lost her eye for fit.

We visited over our breakfast, more steel cut oats, etc. then started preparing for church.

On the way to church we saw a thin young cow moose with her twin offspring. Alas, we had no camera.

Tim Weekly, the pastor, at Sterling Baptist Church brought a Father's Day message entitled “Your My Hero”, reminding Dads that the young learn more from what they see than from what they hear. After church barbeque ribs and all the trimmings were served but we passed. Onie had a special meal planned for us.

At the house Onie started lunch preparations while Pawpaw called Kurt to tell him lunch would be around three and then settled down to read the Sunday paper.

All the whipping of the river water we had been doing had been in vain and today's paper gave some reason why that was so. The Alaska Department of Fish and Game, ADFG, had set gill nets at the mouth. It seems their budget hasn't been increased in the last few years and they decided to stretch a law permitting them to do fish sampling. They hired a local commercial fishing company to stretch the nets, sell the fish and forward a check to the department. They were operating a for profit scheme, something never intended or permitted under the fish sampling law. It will be interesting to see how the elected officials of the state handle the abuse. One would think some heads would roll, especially since it is an election year and the current governor has some strong opposition.
 

The paper reading continued as did the lunch preparations.

Kurt arrived around three and the grill was lit and the cooking begun. A large basket of red and green peppers, asparagus, onions and Brussel sprouts was set inside the grill. Later, steaks followed. When all was ready we sat at our picnic table to dine ,for with a meal like this, one does not just eat.

With the dirty dishes in the coach we lingered at the table as the afternoon sun beat down warming us to the bones. It was the first warm sunny day we'd had in sometime and it was enjoyed by all.

Even in Alaska the sun sets, eventually, and when it starts its downward travel the thermometer follows it. As the sun began dipping behind the hills the writer fetched some firewood and lit our first campfire of the year. As the warmth from the sun waned the warmth from the campfire grew, keeping us comfortable in the evening cool.

Talk around the campfire turned to fishing and Onie left the guys. She went to the coach to watch TV.
 

Left to their own devices the guys turned their talk in the direction of what we remember people by and

what kind of “things” one holds onto when a loved one is lost. We agreed it is not usually the expensive or glitzy items but rather the personal things that were used by the one gone or it can be an item that one associates with the departed. A particular chair, an old couch, an old sweater or perhaps something that was used together with the person who is now gone is cherished and saved reminding one of those times spent together. It is the history not the monetary value that attracts us to these items just as it was the personal worth and value of the individual, we now miss, that attracted us to him or her. The things only serve as a reminder of the good times and whether they are “valuable” or just a trinket they hold memories that are never trivial but always valuable.

Kurt's phone rang. It was time for him to join his family. They had returned from their day trip, a tour of the fjords in and around Prince William Sound. After putting his chair under the awning he took his leave.
 

The writer once again played the Glenn Miller CD, that had been on all afternoon, and put the last few pieces of wood on the fire. When they were almost out he joined Onie inside.

Together they watched a few episodes of North Mission Road before calling it a day.

WASH JOB

Monday, June 21

My, my how the time flies. Here we are in week six of the stories. Our summer is almost a fourth gone and we have yet to catch fish in any numbers of consequence and the camp is lacking in many of our friends. Life is full of change and we do our best to adapt to those changes but missing friends is one of the most difficult of adaptations.

This morning the writer had the last of the steel cut oats while the cook had a favorite of hers', an egg sandwich.

They visited over breakfast and then he read the paper and worked the crossword while she readied herself to go to exercise.

When she was out the door the writer settled down to finish a couple of stories and start this one before he headed off to the lodge for a quick shower.

Outside the whirr of a lawn mower could be heard as Sidney cut the grass. With all the rain it had grown quite tall and lush, a perfect hiding place for the feared Alaskan mosquito.

The phone rang. It was daughter, Dawn, calling from Texas. She was on her way to the beach for a little vacation time. Her son, step sister and Mom were going as well. Others would join them later.

Onie returned from exercise and the grocery store. The purchases were taken inside then we sat down at the picnic table to some cold watermelon. The thermometer had climbed over seventy and the melon was just the right touch for a hot day in addition to being perfectly ripe.

Kurt and Bert, Kurt's father-in-law, came by. They were interested in testing the Kenai, for fish. We did. There weren't any. They joined us for watermelon.

The group watched as Becky and her Mom walked down from the house. They joined us at the picnic table but passed on melon.

The group visited around the table until the hot sun drove them under the awning.

Leaving the ladies the guys drove up to the house, in the Subaru, where they turned to and gave the toad a good wash job and then detailed it, inside and out.

When we took it back down to the coach the ladies were still visiting.

When Kurt, Bert and I went to try for a fish, again, Becky and her Mom went up to the house.

Onie and Kay had agreed to walk and they set off up the hill to Frank and Inga's cabin. Later they walked on up to Kurt and Becky's.

When the river testing was at an end, again, the driver set off up the hill to visit.

When he got there the girls, Onie, Kay and Inga, had been gone about five minutes. He took his leave and headed after them. Fifteen minutes of brisk walking allowed him to catch up to them. Then the foursome walked on to the camp where they went their separate ways.

In the Marlin pasta sauce had been thawed. While the driver prepared some angel hair pasta to go with the sauce Onie fixed a good salad. As we ate we watched the river, the darkening sky and an eagle.

With a halibut trip planned for tomorrow the driver got his gear together and put it in the living room and on the couch. That way he may not disturb his partner too much in the early, 3:30, a.m. When he gets up to dress and leave.

Then he sat down at his laptop for a few minutes while the navigator cleaned the kitchen.

Winding down from a tiring day we watched TV for a while before going to sleep.

FIRST BORN

Tuesday, June 22

Many people were born on this day in nineteen hundred thirty six but none are quite so important in our lives as the baby boy who was born in Memorial Hospital in Houston, Texas. Don't ask which Memorial Hospital as in those days there was only one and it was downtown. The building that housed it has long since been torn down as that is an American penchant; when something becomes old tear it down or destroy it. It seems there are some Americans, today, who are beginning to view those in our society who have had a great many birthdays in the same way. They are viewed in the same way that some people view old buildings, the maintenance cost is too high so it is better to do away with those folks than to fix them. Other leaders in history have had similar ideas about old folks, children with birth defects and certain religious portions of society. Hitler comes to mind.

The baby boy was born to a man who married late in life, for that day and age, at thirty four. His wife, ten years younger than he, was twenty four at the time. He was a first generation American, born to Lutheran Swedish immigrant parents in nineteen hundred one. She was the product of a mixed marriage, a gentile and an Austrian Jew. She had been born in nineteen hundred eleven. Her father had left shortly after her birth as had her husband's father. The father had been a sailor but was now a welder. The mother was a registered nurse.

They had married in Highlands, Texas in September of nineteen hundred thirty five. Now they welcomed their first of five children. He was premature and didn't weigh a whole lot but they loved him nonetheless. His birth certificate recorded the name they had selected for him, David Benjamin. When the writer was born David became the older brother and so it is on this day we wish him a happy birthday with many warm happy returns.

Brother David (the birthday boy) with wife Ginger.

David tends to be an early riser but this morning the second born of that marriage was the first of the two out of bed. He rose at three thirty.

His clothes had been laid out on the couch, the night before, and he quietly slipped into the living room where he donned them, brewed a cup of Chai tea latte, gathered his backpack and camera before heading for the door at four. No, of course he didn't leave straightaway, he paused long enough to kiss the sleeping navigator, then quietly slipped out.

Outside Kurt was waiting. A halibut trip was in the offing. Across the campground the lights burned brightly in the rigs belonging to Sidney and Jay. The trip had been planned as a full boat from the camp but had been reduced to five when Chuck couldn't go due to a conflict. A late night phone call to Kurt, from the boat owner, Mike Garcia, had reduced our numbers to four when Mike said he had overbooked the trip. Kurt had volunteered to drop out so the rest of us, Jay, Sidney, Gene and the writer could go. In addition Kurt had other duties calling him. So, Kurt handed the keys to his truck to writer and wished us a safe successful trip then began the walk up to his house.

Gene was already in the truck and we circled the campground and picked up Sidney and Jay along with their gear before heading off toward Anchor Point, down the Homer Highway. Along the way we encountered road construction, a cow moose with her new twins and a few eagles.

We arrived at the launching site a few minutes before six. A few minutes later Mike's nephew, Rocky, showed up in his pickup, pulling the boat and trailer.

Introductions were made, gear loaded into the boat, the captain and fishermen followed and then it was time to launch.

When one gets to the Anchor Point launch site the first time he may be taken aback by the huge tractor plying the beach but it is not a tractor used for cultivating. It is used to launch boats. There is no boat launching ramp here nor is there a port with piers. This is a big beach with a very gently sloping sandy bottom. The tractor hooks up to the boat trailer, takes it to the waters edge, turns around and backs the boat and trailer into the water. This may require going one hundred feet or more into the surf due to the slow slope on the bottom. When the boat floats free, with engines running, from the trailer the tractor takes the trailer to the beach. Leaves it and goes to get the next boat. When the boats return the tractor hooks up to the appropriate trailer and the boat is driven at almost wide open throttle to within feet of the trailer when the engines are reversed, to slow forward speed, and the boat slides onto the trailer where a waiting hand attaches the bow line and the boat is hauled back to the parking lot where people and rigs are unloaded. Because of the high speed of the landings and the disaster waiting if an error is made the writer has dubbed these landings “kamikazes”.

Launched, we headed northwest and stayed on that heading for about an hour when we stopped and put the anchor over. When it held, lines were rigged and sent to the bottom with four pounds of weight taking them there. The surface was fairly smooth. In fact it was smoother than the writer had seen it in several trips and the ride out had been very comfortable in the twenty eight foot aluminum hulled boat. The twin one fifty Yamaha’s had pushed us through the slight swells with little or no effort but the tide running under the surface was a different matter.

In one hundred ninety feet of water the way to the bottom, where the halibut waited, was about two hundred fifty feet due to the angle the line was stretched by the strong tide, even with four pounds of lead taking it down.

Bites were quick in coming and soon fish were brought aboard on a regular basis. The tide books had indicated that today would be a good day to fish and it seemed the fish were proving the prediction, correct. Fish continued coming on board but few stayed in the fish box as most were “chickens” under twenty pounds. With the slackening tide smaller weights replaced the four pounders with the fishermen going to three pounds and eventually two pounds before the tide began running strong again and the three pounds and then four came back into play. When the tide lessened a few better, read heavier, fish were caught and placed in the box. At the end of the day everyone had a limit, two fish each, but none weighed more than thirty pounds, and that was a generous estimate, but it had been a good trip.

Besides the four from our camp were two Down Easterners, Mainers, who lived not too far from our friends Ted and Priscilla. It was their first trip and they were pleased with the catch and the trip, even though one had suffered from mal de mer before the trip ended. Needless to say he was glad when we reached solid ground.

With the gear and fishermen loaded back in the truck we headed for Castaway stopping along the way for ice for the box holding our catch, about ninety pounds of fillets.

At Kurt's Sidney and Jay turned to to skin the filets with Gene handing them the filets and the writer washing the finished products which were then placed in clean tubs. Then the vacuum packing began with Sidney cutting the fish into serving size with Sidney and the writer operating vacuum packers and Gene taking the completed bags to a cooler. An hour after we started we were finished and Gene and Sidney placed the packaged fish in Kurt's flash freezer. Later the packages will be divided.

Now it was time to relax. Everyone was tired. It was just four but already we had put in a long day.

Gene stayed at the house while Sidney, Jay and writer returned to the camp.

Once there the writer rested a bit before going fishing at the grate. Once again the fishing was great at the grate but the catching was anything but great. In fact there was no catching, at all.

Inside the coach Onie had been busy getting the evening meal ready. When it had been eaten fatigue caught up with the writer and he lay on the coach to watch TV.

Later the duo of Onie and Pawpaw retired.

TWENTY NINE

Wednesday, June 23

It is twenty nine years and counting since our children stood beside us under a poolside cabana where we pledged our love, through thick and thin, sickness and health, richer or poorer, better or worse--and we have seen some of each.. Through it we have stood by each other as the kids stood with us then and have stood with us since.

Marriages are not meant to built on tradition alone nor is tradition to become ritual but sometimes both happen. Our anniversary breakfast is a tradition and one we enjoy but it is not a ritual. This morning we celebrated our twenty nine years with hugs and kisses along with our eggs Benedict, Mimosas and strawberries with honey and cream. There was no coffee or tea.

Tom slaving over the hot stove.

Ready to dine!

Of course the breakfast was after Onie had gone to her exercises and Pawpaw had read the paper.

Then it was time for the normal day's routine, almost. Onie cleaned the kitchen.

A short time later Pawpaw set out to get his anniversary present, from Onie, a deep tissue massage.

While he was gone Onie and Inga along with Kay did their daily walk.

Back at the coach Pawpaw found Onie packing for her trip with her aunt Eloise, pronounced Ee-loyce.

Onie leaves tomorrow afternoon and will be gone for a week. Kurt has loaned Onie his plug in cooler to take in the Subaru so she and Eloise can have snacks and lunches on the go. Pawpaw helped her put a few things in the cooler before he sat down to write.

Onie baked gingerbread muffins and another batch of fudge as the last fudge evaporated unusually fast.

Fudge evaporation occurs more rapidly in direct proportion to the amount of company one has and or the number of times the lid is removed from the tin. This is known as fudgination and if experienced over a long period of time can lead to shrinkage of clothes, particularly in the waist area.

Kurt and Becky came to visit, while the writer was relaxing under the hands of the massage therapist, and brought us a nice hand written anniversary card.

When five thirty came the anniversary couple went up the hill to Frank and Inga's for deep fried turkey and the trimmings. Kurt and Becky and Darlene and Gene, Kurt's parents, joined us.

It was a convivial gathering with lively conversation, along gender lines.

When the deep fried turkey was done Frank took it to the kitchen where he began carving the bird.

Frank has the turkey out of the fryer.
 

Inga was helping.

Inga and Frank put final touches on fried turkey feast.

The rest of us visited a little more while the food was readied.

As soon as Frank said the blessing everyone served themselves and soon it became very quiet as the group began satisfying their hunger. Some of us went back for seconds and after that Inga brought out a bowl of fresh fruit that was enjoyed by all.

By eight thirty the overeating had caused a certain ennui to set in on the group so we said our good-nights and headed for the Marlin.

Once there we readied ourselves for bed then watched a little GSN before turning out the lights.

It had been a good big day.

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

Thursday, June 24

Another day another dollar may have applied during the depression and hung around later as a way of expressing a profitable day on the job.

All of our days are profitable but we aren't working for wages or even commissions. We are working on living our lives to the fullest, trying to be good Christians, being fair and good to our fellow men, walking softly without disturbing our surroundings and hopefully leaving our place a little better than when we found it. Somedays we are more successful than others.

This morning Onie went off to exercise leaving the writer to get the holding tanks emptied and get fresh water on board. As it turned out Sidney and Jay also needed their tanks refreshed so it turned into a community project, as it sometimes does. By the time it was over Onie was back and ready to start the wash. She wants to leave me with clean sheets, clean clothes and a clean house with lots of food in the fridge. It is always the same when she goes away for a few days, enough food to feed four men my size and it is good so I have to be careful not to become the size of four men.

Shuttling back and forth between the laundry room and the coach Onie worked on cleaning the coach; packing all the while.

The driver worked inside helping her and also helped with folding the clothes and bringing them back to the coach.

Then he was off to Soldotna to have the tires rotated and balanced as well as having the oil and filter changed. He also had the belts, hoses, fluids and wipers checked to be sure Onie would have the best chance of having a trip uninterrupted by problems.

Back home at four it was time to finish packing the Subaru. The electric cooler was loaded and plugged in. Then the boxes with snacks were put in along with Onie's bag and shoes.

The day had slipped away and it was time for Onie to be off.

She dropped the writer off, after hugs and kisses, at the gravel road leading to Kurt's. She was on the road again.

Kurt, not wanting the writer to be wheel-less, had offered his four wheeler for use while Onie was gone. It will come in very handy if holding tanks have to be emptied. The walk was nice. At the house the writer visited with Kurt, Becky, Darlene and Gene before taking the key to the four wheeler and taking it down the hill to Frank's. Everyone is looking out for the writer. Frank has offered his Jeep to the writer to use as his own while Onie is gone. Not being able to drive two vehicles the Jeep was left at the cabin but will be used Sunday, to go to church.

Finally at home the writer fixed some butter smothered pasta to go with mixed vegetables, for supper.

It was drizzling rain and turning cold so the heater was turned on. A little writing was done and a little game playing took place before the writer went to bed.

NO RUSSIANS

Friday, June 25

The Anchorage Daily News created quite a stir yesterday by printing a story about the Russian River and said there were many reds there waiting to be caught. Almost every man in camp was ready to fish there first thing this morning.

The writer had his alarm set for seven so he would be ready to go at eight, with Kurt. Five after seven the writer rose. It was cold in the coach but even colder outside where it was forty three and probably felt colder as rain was falling. The rain had started sometime after midnight.

Quickly dressing he started tea water then made a cup of Chai tea latte. Taking it with him he went outside to the shed and got his waders, rod and tackle ready. It was cold!

Back inside he had cold cereal with a banana on it and had some tea while he quickly scanned the morning paper. There was more hype about Russian reds.

He was ready to go at five minutes to eight when Kurt showed up. He had some welcome news. Jay had left a little before five and had been on the river for an hour. There were approximately five hundred fishermen there and that was about a hundred fishermen for each fish, and it was raining. Kurt said he thought the better part of valor would be to pass. I quickly agreed.

He went back up the hill to his house. I turned up the heater and sat down with the paper, tea cup and tea pot. Later crosswords were substituted for the paper that had been read front to back.

Animal Farm by George Orwell had been started a few days ago. The writer had read a few pages before laying it down. Now he picked it up and finished reading it. How he had missed reading this in the past was unknown to him but upon completion he thought it should be required reading for everyone that learns to read. If those who follow these stories haven't read it they might want to have it on hand to read when the stories are a little late in getting posted. It is a good illustration of how Utopian ideas don't work

The writer had talked to Kris last evening and she had given him details of the memorial service for Norm. In addition she gave details about a scholarship program that was being established in his name. He put the information on his computer and printed out several copies which he then passed around camp.

The rain had stopped so he went to the river to see if any reds were camping in front of the grate. They weren't.

Back in the coach he played a few computer games.

Then he returned to the grate. Again he came back empty handed.

Dennis and Sandy arrived for the weekend. The writer helped Dennis get his awning out and then stayed to visit.

Then it was back to the grate and again he went to the coach without a fish.

Inside he texted Onie to tell her the lettuce she planted has come up.

Then he had an avocado and half a bell pepper stuffed with salmon salad before settling down to write.

Outside it was growing dim even though it was only eight thirty. The sun had never broken through the clouds today and now the cover was growing even thicker. It may rain before the night is over.

The driver wrote until he toddled off to bed.

A QUIET SATURDAY

Saturday, June 26

The night was long and the rain fell for most of it. Seven thirty seemed like an unlikely hour to rise so the writer slept until ten.

The bed was still too warm to leave and the rain was still falling so GSN entertained the driver until he was forced from the bed by nature.

A hot Chai tea latte warmed him while his tea water heated.

A quiet Saturday was in the offing, the kind he had when he was leading the single life many years ago. A little house work, a little reading, a little TV and maybe an evening spent with friends.

The paper was retrieved and read while the venison/feral hog sausage heated on the stove. Then some saved biscuits, not reminiscent of single life, were added to complete the breakfast. Several crosswords were worked before the table was cleared.

Emails were waiting to be checked and answered. Glenn Miller played his tuneful selections to keep the writer company.

Outside the rain stopped but the clouds hung around keeping the temps cool.

Becky came by to borrow some western movies for Gene to watch. She stayed but a minute to visit before heading back to the house.

Dishes were washed, a shower taken and floors vacuumed before the driver morphed into the writer. Tapping away on the laptop he noticed Inga and Frank at the grate along with her daughter. Although there was lots of flipping it didn't appear there was any catching so the writing continued.

Onie and Eloise should have reached Beaver Creek, Yukon, before stopping last night. Today they should be driving to Haines, Alaska where they will catch the eight thirty ferry to Skagway, Alaska. When she gets there the writer hopes to get a call so he will know they are okay and things are going according to plan.

Around six the writer closed his laptop and wandered over to Don and Julie's. Canopies were set up over picnic tables. Donnie was standing at the grill doing steaks. Jay and Kay were the hosts but Jay had gone halibut fishing early this morning and no one had heard from him or the rest of the group, Sidney, Kurt and Mark.

A long table was set up and on it was a big shrimp ring, a salad, sautee'd mushrooms, a large fruit bowl, potatoes and other things too numerous to list. A campfire was blazing in the fire pit. Overhead dark clouds scudded along. The folks of the camp were slowly trickling in and soon most were there so a line was formed and folks started filling their plates. Soon the tables were filled with folks filling themselves. The writer was among them.

Two hours later with the temperature falling the writer thanked Kay, Don and Julie, said goodnight to the rest of the folks and headed for the Marlin. Once there he wrote a little more before going to the grate, for a while.

The grate is known as a great place to fish when the fishing is great. So far this year the grate hasn't been great for fish. This evening was no different.

The lone writer returned to the Marlin where he was entertained by GSN and Tru TV before turning out the lights.