A REEL EXPERT CAN TACKLE ANYTHING: ALASKA PART II

"Everyone should believe in something; I believe I'll go fishing." - Henry David Thoreau

Fixing the spot light

We took a six hour ferry to Juneau to meet up with Scott, an old friend of John’s, who kindly put us up for a few nights. After taking us on a really quick romp around the town and its most beautiful parts, including the Mendenhall Glacier, we pondered on taking a visit to Scott's boat. John wanted to go fishing so bad and his enthusiasm sprung a rather tired Scott to life. By 6pm we were stocked up and pulling out of the harbor into the inside passage were we headed for the fishing grounds. Watching other boats headed back in there was a realization fishing probably wouldn’t be good. We joked that the other boats saw us and were thinking we were idiots for trying. But what the hell, even the boat ride is fun and maybe we will get just a few fish. 

John and Scott

The sun left us to fend for ourselves in the dark, following only the sonar, gps, other fancy gadgets, and the spot light on the water. It was kind of an eerie feeling as you are speeding through the dark thinking you have nothing but open sea in front of you and suddenly you spot a car drive by perpendicular to the path of the boat only seeing its headlights. We had gotten close to the shore, but still a few hundred feet away and it was a strategic set up for the nets. Without landmarks for a reference if felt like that car was flying like a hovercraft.

We were on a gill netting boat, so Scott dropped the line while John drove the boat perpendicular to the shore. We waited about an hour, cooking some steaks in the mean time, before we began to reel in the net and check out our catch. Scott wore protective glasses with his rubbers because it isn’t just fish that swim into the lines, jellyfish do too. And their tentacles can flick at you as they bounce on the incoming net and sting you, as John found out the hard way. Slowly and quite spaced apart our fish were pulled into the boat, their gills tangled in the green webbing and Scott shook them out to the ground. Our first cast rounded up 7 salmon. That’s not a lot for the amount of fuel it took us to get out there, but for John and I it was fun. We cast a second time and only rounded up three, but many more jellyfish, one which got John in the eye as he tried to shake it loose from the net. The pain lasted for a few days, but he persevered through the night determined to get the full fishing experience.

The boys then began to clean. The first cleaning happened after we cast the second net. Both clad in yellow rubbers with extra tough boots became team working the gutting. The remainder of the jellyfish that actually did fall off the net before it wound up on the giant coil were pushed back to sea through a hole near the floor of the boat. Scott worked out beheading the fish, most of which had died already, and made a cut through the belly to remove the majority of the innards. I expected the process to look savage with brutish slicing, but he made it look almost artistic like he was carving a masterpiece. And he was fast. He would then toss the headless, gutless fish at John who then would rinse out and fine clean the fish with a hose connected to the sea. There were only two sets of scrubs so I became the photographer of the event, or at least that’s the reason I’m going to tell people I didn’t participate in the beheading and cleaning.  We were midnight fishing folks, something I never thought I would find myself doing.

My favorite part about going out to sea was sleeping out at sea. We found a cove with some other overnighting boats and dropped the anchor. After waiting for it to set we went to sleep with the plans to get up and try some more around 5 am. However, we woke to find our anchor was not holding us as firmly as we thought and we were drifting. After a few failed attempts to reset the anchor we decided to just head in for the wind had picked up and was making the water pretty rough. I was under the bow in the lower bunk and could feel the rise and fall, or crash at times, of the boat cutting through huge swells at sea. Where most people would become sea sick at this I found it relaxing and was able to sleep really well. Despite only getting a few hours of sleep, when I did wake up I was wide awake and excited. I blame it on the energy of the seas and enjoyed my coffee braced against the wall of the cabin looking out over the waves as Scott drove us home. What a trooper he was to take us all the way out there and drive us through the waves home, which must’ve been taxing. 

Scott donated the 10 fish to us, which we threw in two coolers with cold packs meant for shipping. Alaska Airlines immediately refrigerated our catch. Back in Portland we checked into a hotel for John and I no longer were leased anywhere. We topped off our catch with ice from the ice machine until it was time to eat them. Ten fish. Each about 8 pounds. Holy crap. If we hadn’t been so distracted by packing up everything from the storage unit we may have planned the salmon bake better, but we did our best.

 SALMON BAKE!

John and I went to the house we had been staying at before we left to have the bake off. We knew nothing of cooking whole salmon so we stressed, sliced, watched snippets of youtube videos, sliced… I cut John’s finger trying to cut off a fin. Luckily reinforcements came in to help us and we cooked us four delicious tasting salmon. We had about 15 people gorge on our hard work. In the end we gave away 6 whole fish and left overs, including two hand deliveries of some lucky night owls. No one that night had any idea they’d be walking away with 6 pounds, or $60 worth of salmon. Some of my friends emailed me pictures of their masterpieces that came of the catch which pleased us to know nothing had gone to waste.

All the folks with their wrapped up Salmon to take home, there is one on the back of the bike

Fish so big we must wack
one another with them

Salmon baby

Lindsay's Salmon creation

Amanda and Shawn's
salmon creation

Chase's Salmon creation

The next day we got on the road with our three vehicle caravan and headed south to California where our adventure begins. We just happened to pass a town called Yolo which I managed to snag a picture of John passing by the sign in his beefed up Toyota Landcruiser. I took this as a sign that I'm on the right path. You only live once.

THE NORTH COUNTRY: ALASKA PART I

   

View of Skagway coming in by plane

     When John’s parents invited both of us to join them to Skagway I tried to play it cool, but secretly I was giddy as a school kid. When I was first perusing pictures in 2007 before my ultimate move to the Alaska, fjords and glaciers from that area dominated the images I pulled up from the internet. Even after four seasons of living in the state I never made it down the inside passage in south east Alaska where Skagway lies.

     So here I find myself in the Portland airport very early in the morning completely oblivious to the fact that our adventures have already begun. I was so tired I missed getting our shoe shot on the iconic PDX carpet. (I’m not one for trends, but some of them are kind of fun. Some how Portland folks have sparked a trend of taking pictures of their shoes on the carpet at the Portland airport before they travel somewhere. I thought this was a national event happening in other cities but I’ve been told it’s more of a local thing. However, the iconic carpet of the PDX doesn’t span the entire airport and by the time I remembered we were in an area with ambiguous dark carpet.)

Dorthia my traveling buddy of course was along for the ride

     It took us two flights to get to Skagway. The second one was in a small Cessna flying the short 30 minute flight from Juneau to Skagway filled with the four us, our pilot, and a load of food. For the first time in my life, and I worked for a flight seeing company with similar small planes, I was able to sit up front next to the pilot! Having tried to get window seats on all our flights, John’s mom asked me “Is this a good enough window seat for you?”  Yes indeed it was. Oh the views from up there. These veteran Alaskans behind me had taken the flight before and were only semi enthused, but I was a kid in a candy store.

     The plane followed the path of an inlet that led up a valley where both sides had steep mountains covered it beautiful pines and the few deciduous trees that were just fading their fall colors. The wall of mountains went on the entire way, and every now and then you got a peak of glaciers making small appearances inbetween their rolling peaks, for the Juneau Icefield was nestled on top of the east side of the water. There were numerous runoffs of water cutting through the trees too, sometimes resulting in waterfalls here and there.  The runoff carries silt from the glaciers and when it meets the sea water you can see the cloud of brown water fanning out, stubborn to instantaneously mix with the dark blue of the sea.

     What made it the most magical was that air was filled with water, and rained for a period, creating many incredible rainbows. Some in front of us, and my favorite kind, the one that encircles the plane and follows you as you fly.

     ***History section. If history bores you please skip to pretty tree pose picture below to continue the story and you'll be rewarded with cute animal pictures*** 

Dyea

     Skagway is a pivotal little city both in history and in modern day tourism and travel. If one were to drive out of SE Alaska, they would take a ferry to Skagway to they can then drive into Canada and connect to the roads leading to the lower 48. It is also where all the gold seekers came for the gold rush to start their voyage to the Klondike back in 1898. That little venture is what put Skagway, and Alaska on the map. At the peak of the gold rush Skagway was the largest city in Alaska with around 10,000 prospectors taking over the area.

     There is another town used back in those days called Dyea (Die-ee) where folks headed out on the Chilkoot Trail towards the Klondike. The trail from Skagway is called White Pass. Both were treacherous, many men and horses died trying to get to gold. Eventually a railroad was put in along White Pass and that led to Dyea becoming abandoned along with the Chilkoot trail. The railroad now is a popular destination for all those cruise ship tourists. Skagway is a bustling city filled with summer employees and thousands of tourists who come in to take the train through the beautiful valley of White Pass (we took a car). Dyea is part of the park service now and the Chilkoot Trail can be hiked for pleasure by those willing to spend five days backpacking out there which I would like to do some day. It is just a land with some trees now where the city used to be, but there are very few remnants of the buildings that once stood there.      

     John worked for the railroad in his formative years so our drive along White Pass I heard the spiel he used to give to the tourists. John’s parents both worked for the park service so their knowledge of the history of Skagway, Dyea, and a lot of the famous people from the goldrush far surpassed that which I would find simply reading pamphlets at the visitor center. I learned more about the the gold rush era (and some incorrect things on signs) than most tourists which was such a treat for me.

     The first few days in Skagway were filled with cleaning up the McCluskey house of the massive amount of dirt and mess left behind by some very irresponsible tenants.  It was a mostly rainy summer for Skagway, which was unusual for the area, but we managed to take advantage of one of the nicer summer days and hike up a mountain called AB Mountain with a friend of John’s from highschool, Max. AB stands for Arctic Brotherhood, a fraternal organization formed in 1899 by gold-seeking stampeders headed for the Klondike.  Max had recently gotten into paragliding so he wanted to get to the top to jump off. As is typical of the Alaskan terrain that I was familiar with in Anchorage and Denali, there is a lot of uphill, you’re always hiking up a mountain (or through a pass, but summiting things with views is quite fun). We were all feeling really out of shape headed up, but it felt so good to finally be hiking again. John kept reliving the days he would mountain bike down this trail and point out places where he crashed, or where he did an amazing jump.

      The mountain went from steep to really really steep at some point and we were mostly scrambling up rocks through thick mud. Max got ahead of us, he needed the right wind to take off and he became motivated to get to the top before his window of opportunity closed. When we got above the tree line, the views opened up. Skagway was an adorable little sliver of a town below nestled between the mountains cozying up against the water. John and I slowed down to enjoy the amazing scenery of glaciers peaking out at us from the range to the west. I always loved the colors of the Alaskan tundra and taiga. The short foliage with its greens and rust colors, the grey mountains, the white glaciers, and your occasional blue ponds. 

     We got a call that Max was about to jump so we walked to the  side of the ridge that faced Skagway and waited. And there he went, quite high above us but floated every so gracefully over our heads and out towards the city. It probably took him 15 minutes to get all the way down.

     When the awesomeness of witnessing his jump wore off we realized we needed to descend through that steep muddy mess and it had taken up a long time getting up.

However, luckily John came to the rescue with his tutorial on how to go down gracefully and “safely”. (This technique does not work when devil’s club is present, a thorny horrible plant that would love to impale you with its spikey body).

     After an 8 hour day, 5.72 miles round trip and total 3,471 ft. elevation gain we finished our hike. Phew.

Whitehorse, Canada

     

Caribou antler sheds

This is the place where folks in Skagway go when they need supplies. It’s only just a few hours away and is a bigger city. But it’s also nestled in the Yukon. It was a brisk day and fall had definitely peaked there as we walked through the Yukon Wildlife Preserve crunching on fallen brown leaves.  This place had all your favorite northern animals all bundled into one place. Caribou, moose, elk, wood bison, mule dear, muskox, mountain goats, the unintentional ground squirrels that took up residence there, and my two personal favorite animals the artic fox and lynx. It was kind of a right of passage to see a lynx when I was working in Denali. They were not a very commonly sighted animal and, even if they were, they are just so majestic looking that one is incomplete awe when coming across one. And here, in this place, I got to see a family of six: four playful kittens, and two watchful guarding parents. I actually didn’t get amazing pictures of them despite how easy the preserve made it for us because I was too busy watching the kitten play and was listening to their chirping sounds. I was floored.

Lynx

     

     The arctic foxes, which I’d only seen in documentaries, were very playful with one another racing around their designated area. Not to sound completely gushy but they are just the cutest animals I ever did see.

Muskox

  

      Skagway was a lot of fun, but I think it is only fun as a visitor. The town harbors a lot of history and character but its winters are harsh and cold and dark. I was happy to leave when we did just before the snow arrived. But now that I'm gone I find myself day dreaming about the Alaskan mountains. There is just so much world to explore. 

Green Lake, Canada

A LESSON IN LEAVING BEHIND COMFORT AND PLUNGING INTO THE UNKNOWN

            

            It was on our drive back from Pendleton, OR at the end of June of this year that the plans transpired. The plans that set in motion the complete uplifting of our lives we had settled into in Portland to seek out an adventure of our life times. 

        I officially moved to Portland in October of 2011 after four seasons of work in Denali National Park, Alaska. I had spent a few winters here before the permanent move and I had fallen in love with the city. Prior to settling down I had been moving every 5 to 6 months as a part of the seasonal life and trying to travel when I wasn’t working.  Though I had many amazing experiences in that time from two separate trips backpacking in Central and South America, and took two cross country road trips in my trusty little car I named Little Skittle (documented in previous blog posts in 2009 and 2010), I needed a home and a community. I was becoming very lonely with the constant uprooting and had an urge to do something more meaningful with my life. I knew my love for adventure and travel would never disappear and expected I would leap back into exploring the world after a good rest.

Singing for an event on Mississippi Ave in my friend's patio lot.

            Turns out doing something “meaningful”  and setting down roots was extremely expensive. I became an EMT and volunteered with Americorps training teens on trail building and nestled in a low paying job with an ambulance company. I watched my beautiful savings disappear and for the first time in my life accrued credit card debt. It didn’t take very long with my attempts at being a real adult to know I landed on the wrong path career wise. But I had fallen even more in love with Portland. Music resurfaced in my life with a vengeance. I drove my electric piano from Wisconsin to Portland and began to play again. I joined a quirky ukulele band 20 members strong where we dressed up in outrageous outfits and performed punk rock covers from venues to the streets for a very welcoming Portland audience. Over the years I acquired a real upright piano, a pump organ, a violin, and briefly tried to learn the cello. My life was filled with bluegrass potlucks, nights of barbeques and jamming with friends, or going to see live shows, usually where I knew the people on stage. I even had the honor of playing with some friends on their Sunday gig playing at a food cart on SE 32^nd and Division. Music was everywhere and I felt more in my element than I had in a long time.

Jamming with Closely Watched Trains and friends at the food carts

Toucan Sam and the Fruitloops playing Uke-O de Mayo

One of our last shows in downtown Portland

Favorite spot in the Columbia Gorge

     

The outdoors was my other love that rooted me deeper in Portland. I spent the summers hiking and biking and playing in parks or along the waterfront. You could find me biking the vast trail systems of the city, riding to commute, or riding with the crazy themed rides of Pedalpalooza in June.  I even biked the rim of Crater Lake last summer which was 33 miles long and did my first mini bike tour of the San Juan Islands off the coast of Washington. I hiked numerous trails through the Columbia Gorge, Mt. Hood, Tillamook Forest, and all along the coast and had the honor of summiting Mount St. Helens and Mount Adams last summer. I even snuck in a 10 day trip to Glacier National Park and a week long adventure hiking the Lost Coast in California in the summer of 2013. I never took a vacation day for any of these adventures (the only benefit of working three 12 hour shifts a week, sometimes 6 days in a row to get two weekends back to back).

Top of Mt Adams

Top of Mt St. Helens

The Lost Coast, California

Portland waterfront on the day of bike adventures, summer of 2013

You can see how it would be hard to leave a life filled with all the things I love. But all good things come to an end. Last fall was harsh. The ukulele band retired in July, the food cart where I played was bought out and in its place an overpriced apartment complex was built. A lot of my music friends moved away or drifted into new projects. I began working 50 hour weeks to make more money to afford this dream of traveling again which burned me out and made me too tired to go out and see friends. It was a very cold and dark winter where I kept my house at a brisk 50 degrees and wore fleece and thick wool sweatshirts with hoods to sleep at night. I lived in an old house where the heat leaked right out the walls and it wasn’t worth our money to try to keep the heat higher, just high enough for things not to freeze. Portland’s glory days were over and I realized this is the right time to move forward.

Mt. Adams

     I met John in January and we bonded over our passion for the outdoors. He won me over with tales of his backpacking adventures, one involving a concussion, and together we got ourselves through the winter. We embraced a snow/ice storm that shut down the city and got in a snowball fight with our friends. He taught me how to ski (sort of), and w

St. Helens Mother's Day hike in dresses, a long standing tradition

e went on our own adventures in the gorge, on the mountains, and on the coast. He had a dream of visiting New Zealand, as did I. Just before my 31^st birthday in June I applied for my work visa in Kiwi country just before I was too old (their cut off age requirement is 30). I got the email approving my application and it was like a cloud was lifted. I have a way out. I can do this. I didn’t share this news with John until that conversation driving home from Pendleton when he told me he would be leaving Portland to go backpacking in California and asked if I was interested in joining him. It was time to take the plunge, quit our jobs, and get out of the rut before we became stuck there.

    The next two and a half months John and I moved out of our homes, selling off most of our things in the process, and took up a temporary residence in the heart of SE Portland with John’s friends. In that time we fixed up cars (his), sold off a car (mine), sold our beds, big furniture, my beloved instruments, and began to say our goodbyes. Instead of spending our weekends that were typically enjoyed on mountains, in the gorge, or on the coast we instead spent that time preparing for our journey with said car repairs, trailer building, re-boxing things, and tedious tasks all geared toward leaving Portland for the long term. It was hard of me to let a lot of things go, like my electric piano that my parents bought for me when I was in high school to encourage me to write more music. My upright piano which I felt like a right of passage for me to own. It was my very first real piano that I owned and I chose it carefully for it's rich sound, it's lighter action, and the varnishing on the wood. It was absolutely beautiful. (I sold it to a wonderful friend who's life is full of music so I know it will be loved). I also got rid of things I had carried with me from childhood as a means to whittle down on the amount of things I owned. Often times I was on the verge of tears as I watched possessions I had grown to love over the years disappear into the hands of others. 

Tree posing with Mt. Hood in the background
(John is doing the flying crane pose)

On September 19^th we boarded a plane with his parents and went to Skagway, Alaska where he had spent the latter part of his youth to help sell his parents house that they still owned there. This was the first part of our adventure/pseudo retirement that should hopefully bring us to many national parks in the US and eventually over to New Zealand and Australia.  It has been 3 and a half years since my last blog post and I look forward to plunging back in to share with you tales of inspiration and adventure.

Biking around Crater Lake

Lunch Counter part way up Mt. Adams looking out towards Mt. St. Helens

Our campsite at lunch counter at 3am just before we trekked up to the summit

The top of Mt. Adams, I joined a spontaneous 80s dance party. Mt. Jefferson looking quite lovely in the background

Part way through our bike tour of the San Juan Islands (off the coast of Washington, that's Canada in the background)