Monday 8/6
It was an interesting trip last night aboard the SS Tustumena. As we were settling into our little nest in the theater, other people decided to join us, first a family of 5 including 3 young children. They were nice, but we had visions of spending the night in a nursery. Thankfully, they were successful in getting a cabin, and we were alone again, but only briefly. We’re not sure how many came and went during the night (my snoring certainly was a powerful defensive weapon), but by the AM only one intrepid interloper remained.
During the night, Nancy and I both remember one period where the ferry was tossed noticeably by rough seas. About 100 miles of the trip between Homer and Kodiak Island are in the open waters of the Gulf of Alaska—the waters where Discovery Channel films “Deadliest Catch”--- so rough seas are common here. Ichabod had predicted waves “up to 20 feet” last night. Looks as if he was right again—what a weatherman!
I awoke first this morning and successfully trampolined my way off the air mattress, dressed in the dark, and headed off to find some coffee. For some reason, possibly the long winter nights, coffee is REALLY a big deal in Alaska—actually more espresso than coffee. It’s amazing. There are espresso kiosks EVERYWHERE… on every street corner and, most remarkably, as lone retail sentinels in the most remote wilderness…bear!…moose!...bald eagle!...espresso stand!
So, with hot, steaming java in hand I stepped out into the chilly pre-dawn. It was immediately evident that Ichabod was not only right about the turbulent seas, but also about the clearing weather—we were going to see the sun again—hooray!
As the sun rose, there were only a few other hardy souls on deck, one of whom was a tiny woman with a distinct Boston accent. “Gah mornin”, she said. “Gah cahfee”. When she said, “Whale ovah thair”, I started paying close attention. “Thair”, she said…and “Thair”. Maybe her great grandfather had been a Massachusetts whaler because she sure could spot her whales, and they were all around us.
I hurried to awaken Nancy (who was NOT happy about my cold hands), and in the rose and crystal dawn we watched whales spouting all around us.
I mentioned yesterday, that the ferry trip from Homer to Kodiak Island was a 13-hour, overnight excursion. That’s not completely accurate. The direct ferry trip is only 9 hours, but this ship was making an intermediate stop at Port Lions. We breakfasted while chugging into the Kizhuyak Bay toward Port Lions. The sun is now sparkling on relatively calm waters. Left and right there are pristine, craggy, tree covered islands. Startlingly white birds are spiraling above us…a nice way to start the day.
The trip between Port Lions and Kodiak is about 3 hours. We spent most of it on deck watching the whales, puffins, murrelets, murres, gulls, and otters, and marveling at the beauty of the sun-drenched mountains that surrounded us. We also adopted two new MIPs, Mel and Jim from Kodiak. Mel is one of 3 private-practice lawyers on the island (there’s also a BIG firm with 4 attorneys) and Jim is a local contractor. Mel’s originally from Oregon and Jim from Colorado but both have been on Kodiak for a couple or more decades. They’re returning from a weeklong rafting trip in the wilderness on the Alaskan mainland. We find it interesting that people who live on remote Kodiak Island need to go someplace else to find “wilderness”. We also find it interesting that this is the FIRST time either has taken the ferry…previously they’ve always flown to and from the mainland. Mel and Jim turn out to be really nice guys and great resources for planning our time on the Island. They tell us about the best spots to visit, where and how to fish for salmon, the local restaurants and bars, and about the roads—there are about 100 miles of roads on Kodiak, some of which are good and some of which are REALLY bad. And, of course, they tell us about the bears. Kodiak Bears are a subspecies of Brown Bears (of which Grizzlies are also a sub-species). Kodiak Bears are the largest Brown Bears because their diet on the island is mostly fish (with the occasional camper thrown in for variety) and uniquely rich in protein. They are the only bear species on the island. They’re shy and rarely seen from the road although Jim tells us he’s seen them at his house which is about 20 miles south of town. Because the bears are rare near town, Mel and Jim strongly urge us to take one of the fly-in bear tours and recommend a couple local pilots.
Between Port Lions and Kodiak we pass through the self-explanatory Narrow Strait. As we turn into this strait the wind freshens to a brisk 30 or 40 knots. As we lean into the wind, Mel and Jim explain that they get a lot of wind on Kodiak. Sometimes up to 150 knots! They’ve recommended that we go to the top of Pillar Mountain to get a 360° view of the island, and they tell us the wind up there will be much stronger than what we’re experiencing on the boat.
Kodiak harbor is quaint and beautiful. We dock, disembark, and head the Cheap Jeep up Pillar Mountain. Mel & Jim are right on both counts…great view of the island and VERY windy—50 or 60 mph.
In town we call the recommended bear tour charters and find one that has space on Wednesday morning. (I forgot to mention that we’ll be on the island for 5 days since that’s when the next ferry goes back to the mainland.) As we finalize our arrangements with Andrews Air, they ask us to come out to the airport to be weighed so that they’re sure the plane isn’t overloaded. Hmmm, that’s never happened before. We’ve just finished watching the movie A Knight’s Tale in which the line, “You’ve been weighed, you’ve been measured, and you’ve been found wanting”, is a key plot thread, so we’re uniquely attentive to this issue and hoping that we’re not found “wanting”. When we get to the tiny headquarters of Andrews, we’re not actually weighed, but we are visually measured. Guess they just wanted to make sure that we, along with 4 other passengers, would fit in the tiny seaplane we’ll be taking on Wednesday.
With our town stuff accomplished we head south toward Chiniak on the longest road on the island. We’ve read that there are many places along this road to camp on the beach.
On the way we pass Russian Creek, stop, and get our first good look at spawning salmon. We marvel at the plentitude, not realizing that we “ain’t” seen nothing yet.
As we approach a small river bridge, I notice a narrow dirt road or trail carved through the trees toward the ocean. We stop the Jeep, and I hike down the road to explore…a perfect place for us to spend the night!
A brief interruption to discuss “perfection”…“Perfect” is a perfect example of an overused superlative. Essentially it means “entirely without any flaws, defects, or shortcomings”. I must admit that this camping spot had a flaw or two, but as I describe it, I think you’ll agree that it was very nearly “perfect”.
The narrow trail down which I hiked was about 100 yards long. So the campsite was adequately removed from the road to provide some privacy (since we were 40 miles outside of Kodiak, the road in question was hardly a freeway).
The “river” that ran parallel to the trail was actually one branch of Twin Creek which met its sister branch like the top of a “T”—the sister branch running left to right and the merged branches flowing a couple hundred yards to the sea. The view was bracketed on the left by waves of sea grass and on the right by a steep bluff. Both branches of the creek were teeming with salmon—massed in the few shallow pools.
The only apparent imperfection was the absence of a flat spot for our tent on the mainland, so we forged one branch of the stream and set up our tent on the flat, crunchy bar of river gravel between the twins.
With the camp assembled, I begin fishing. This activity requires manly casts of 8-10’ into the swirling mass of salmon. Bingo! I ACTUALLY catch a salmon who has ingested the fly. I drag the frothy beast to shore and release it forthwith (hoping that this dude, or dudette as the case may be, ultimately gets upstream far enough to realize its wildest fantasies). Subsequent casts produce less palatable results—the salmon have other things on their minds than eating—and there are SO many that the most typical result is snag-hooking one in the side or tail which produces incredible action but just is not sporting. I do induce one more fish to actually strike my fly. This leviathan rolls, and swirls, and splashes, and then snaps my line with utter disdain.
As I am fishing and Nancy observing, we see our first Bald Eagle. It’s perched on a dead tree that juts angularly from near the top of the bluff. As evening approaches, we realize this is just one of several eagles in the neighborhood along with gulls and ravens.
Since sunset is around 10 PM, I am alone as the sun sinks behind us. The setting sun floods the bluff with golden light. As if a gong has sounded, the salmon begin their vigorous upstream battle through the coursing shallow waters between pools. They go in teams of three or four and then phalanxes of ten or twenty. In some spots just their fins and backs are exposed. In others the water is only inches deep and the fish are mostly out of water, snaking their way across the gravel streambed. As these groups splash upstream, the sound of their charge rises loudly above the normal babbling of the creeks. I walk along the banks, watching the salmon fight homeward, willing them to succeed. I move away from the stream through the tall quiet grass to the ocean’s edge…the tide is in and small waves are washing the black sand beach. I reach the mouth of Twin Creek and watch salmon emerge from the distant sea, drawn by the most primal urge to their place of birth. Gulls are noisily taunting the eagle who is resting high in a pine tree on the bluff—the eagle is screaming insults at the gulls…
In the middle of the night, I awaken (there is now a night…several hours of inky blackness). I have been awakened by noises. The sudden salmon upstream eruptions seem indistinguishable from the splashing of a large animal charging through the water…a bear? Very occasionally I can hear the guttural coughing sound of large waves breaking in the distance…a bear? My god, I think, we’re camped next to a SALMON stream, 40 miles outside of town, on KODIAK ISLAND! Sensing my concern, Nancy awakens. We open the tent to peer into the darkness…there is a whisper of wind…there is a dome of brilliant stars dominated by the Big Dipper…there is a crescent moon afloat in the heavens and sparkling amidst the churning salmon…there are no bears. We sleep fitfully. I have all my bear paraphernalia at my side… “Bring it on big boy”.
