If only I'd had time to write everything down. Very soon, my summer adventures will be over, but lots of stuff has been going on in the past month (things other than writing and having access to the internet); good weeks, mal weeks, hip-hop weeks, gum drop weeks, and then there was Galley Prom Night. Well, I wore lipstick that night among other things, but I'm sure you've seen the photos by now. Oh gosh, geeesh, wow, hmmmpf - what a summer it's been.
My first week back from vacation posed some challenges. I had the patience-filled pleasure of working with a nineteen year old Marines recruit named Josh. His restaurant resume consisted of mostly bussing at Applebee's. His mom works in the ASC office and he needed something to keep him occupied for a few weeks before shipping off to boot camp. This was one of the few times I've thanked my experience at Qdoba for preparing me so well to teach teenagers how to be professional cooks. Josh generally had a great attitude and didn't mess up very often, and definitely managed to speed his dish doing by the end of week two. He also left us with some peculiar phrases to repeat and remember him by. "Wowwww! What da' $@#!" Had to be there I guess. He also did me the huge favor of capturing video of Banana's Foster night which is hopefully posted on my page by now.
Most of the specific events of that time are clean out of my head now. Maybe the lack of naps from those first two weeks prevented their retention. If I get the chance, I'll ask my culinary partner in crime Shelly if she remembers anything good from that time. Yeah, no naps, no galley raves, good work, but, no offense Josh, I hope the Marines work well for you (for your sake and mine.)
When Josh left, my relief chef - very soon to be Executive Chef - Mike G. came on board. I was going to make him do breads and desserts for cross-training purposes, but Shelly asked if she could continue on as she was in the (carbohydrate) zone. We all agreed it would be really nice to have an easy week with three aces in our hand. Ironically enough, we had some "particular" passengers that week including one woman with Celiac disease (severe wheat gluten allergy). One guy inspired me to new levels of counting-to-ten by announcing on the second night that "all the food here is rubbish" and "I've been starving for two days [since he came on board]." He said it during dinner and Dani the Hotel Manager told me about it soon afterward. Needless to say.... Another group was non-plussed that we didn't have Biscotti to go with their ice cream. In true ASC fashion, Shelly spent some time the next day making a big batch of Biscotti to try and win them over a little more. Mike was awesome as usual - he'd do a good chunk of dinner prep by the time I was done with the lunch prep. Naps were had aplenty.
One night, there had been multiple whale sightings in the half hour leading up to dinner. Big Daddy (aka Tim Voss aka Vossy) even made an announcement that whale things were occurring. When little or no passengers went out to see them, I went ahead and assumed they were far too excited about dinner to bother with wildlife. Ten minutes to dinner and still no call to delay dinner saw me shouting "Galley Wins! Galley Wins!" I almost called Big Daddy just to gloat. Dinner began, things were great, first course went out, dinner plating began apace, when all of a sudden.... Gently booming his big voice over the intercom speakers, Big Daddy says, "um...folks, I know you're in the middle of dinner, but we're about to have a National Geographic moment just off the bow." Big Daddy wins - wildlife wins. We knew we had to go out and see, so everything went into the warmer and we were all fairly speechless. As some of my unprofessionally captured video shows, two Orcas were attempting to kill a lone humpback whale. Those of us more tender found it hard to watch, considering how majestic and gentle humpbacks are. One lady cried. But, the science of it and the once-in-a-lifetime-ness of it won out pretty quickly. The Orcas weren't attacking the whale per se. Apparently it is quite risky for the little dolphin-cousins to take on a massive humpback with a massive tail. So instead, they harass the whale, keep it on the defensive, nipping and bumping it until it begins to tire. Eventually the goal is to drown the whale by continually driving it down. The drama unfolded slowly, with the silence punctuated by the uncharacteristically loud and desperate pitched gasps for air by the humpback. Having spent a fair bit of time watching whales, the upset or panic the humpback was feeling became poignant through it's behavior; the trumpeting breaths, rolling back and forth agitatedly, and lots of defensive tail slapping. This departure from what is usually a predictably calm and graceful creature made the whole episode all the more chilling and interesting. We waiting almost an hour until the drama peaked with the appearance of two more Orcas, followed shortly by the timely rescue of the exhausted victim by a fellow humpback. Once the scene was so crowded (not to mention the gigantic yacht covered with telephoto voyeurs) the original two Orcas gave up the hunt and everyone departed. Beth the Expedition Leader was asked many many questions while the show was progressing, but many of her answers were, "I have no idea, I have never seen anything like this before." This is especially significant considering how much time Beth has spent watching whales. Then dinner began again gradually, with some seats at some tables needing service sooner than others who lingered watching the retreat of all the whales.
So the next week, when a transient pod with several Orcas and a juvenile were hunting a wayward Sea Lion, the crew was amazed. So much carnage in a few two weeks! Once before in all my time in Southeast Alaska I had seen Orcas hunt and kill a Dall's Porpoise, but this kind of serendipity was truly thrilling. At first it seemed like the Orcas were taunting the poor surrounded Sea Lion, swooping in close, probably bumping him or nipping at him as they leaped in a short arc out of the water. Their black and white clown faces and teeth blurred by over and over again. Then our other expedition leader, Richard (I think), explained that the adult Orcas were teaching the younger one to hunt. I guess repeating the killing maneuver behavior got the young one to understand and begin imitating the motions. Meanwhile, as Big Daddy pointed out over the loudspeaker, the victims group of Sea Lion buddies were a short distance away. They were clearly agitated, making some noises and doing some splashing and hopping kind of activities. The Sea Lion didn't fare as well as the humpback had the week before, and eventually the passes the Orcas made became more serious and fatal. Though, fortunately for some of us, the actual final moments occurred mostly underwater. I didn't have my camera with me that time. I think my battery was dead. This can be a good thing however, as many people seem to spend significant amounts of attention on their technology during such a time of significance. I didn't regret being able to use my own senses to record the experience. How greedy of me.
That week had a low-attendance galley rave, but most importantly, we had our own make-shift pinata named Ass-Clown. As a stress reliever that week, we planned for days and then sent Shelly and Mike on an expedition to find some kind of clown paraphernalia which could be stuffed with individually wrapped treats and then beaten while a cheering audience egged the cudgel on. Dani Barney was chosen as the wielder as she bore the brunt of the angst-causing events. Shelly was especially impressive in her clown nose, red wig, pillow-butted pants, and former galley rave wear clown shirt (look for the same flowered shirt on Captain Shonda from earlier galley rave photos).
Oh and how could I forget about the crew dib ride (no breaking down this time) when Sean powered the dib right up onto a huge, smooth sloped ice burg bit, and I got to step onto the ice burg and discreetly (and non-sense-ically) pull my pants down enough to put my bare ass on the bergie-bit itself! How many people can say that honestly!
Since then, the most significant event has been Galley Prom Night. The First Annual S.Explorer Prom of 2008 was a short lived smashing success. Instead of the usual emergency strobes, the decorating committee (mostly me and Shelly) decided to go with the paper lantern string of lights (amazing the kinds of random things we have on board - "In Case of Summer Formal Break Glass"). Balloons were hung, stars were hung, [ ... ] were hung, and yes indeedy-dudey: I went in drag. But, I wasn't the only one. My date, Aimee, drew some chest hair on herself, borrowed Kevin's black beret, and donned one of her famous fake mustaches (once again, "In Case of Cross-Dressing Break Open Mustache Cache"). S/he was very suave and gentlemanly, yet intriguingly aggressive on the dance floor. Granted s/he did break out of character into high pitched giggle fits on occasion, but what's a girl to do? This was the first time I wore women's clothing (that I'll ever tell about) and I my recently acquired ensemble from Petersburg's Salvation Army actually worked quite well. I had sandals instead of heels, and the only makeup I had was my spectacularly "Florida Fuschia" (according to Aimee's recollection). I don't know; you be the judge. Punch was served, many photos were taken with many special poses, and Big Daddy made time to come down from driving the boat (a late run that night) just to give his hot date, Shelly, a flower and take some pictures to last a lifetime. Kevin was particularly impressive in his black coveralls and won Gena's heart over with his crisp and beautiful bouquet of parsley (which is now incorporated lovingly into 90+ Halibut and Risotto Cakes sitting in my freezer). My heart was throbbing out of my newly expanded chest as the votes were counted for Prom King and Prom Queen. I never expected...but wait...could it be...A TIE! Shelly and I were both Prom Queen! Oh Happy Day! And my she-man, of course (like duh), was almost unanimously voted Prom King. Everything worked out so perfectly - I wish that night were never over.... Except for the balloons, all the decorations are still up today, adding a more comforting air to the usually industrious galley. At the end of that week (last week) we even had Dan Blanchard, our CEO who was on board semi-vacationing all week, come down to the galley late one night, bar-blazed with several other intrepid and special passengers to take the best galley tour ever. With most of the lights out, and the paper lanterns lit up all pastels, they walked the galley and Aimee brought down her computer so we could tell the story of galley prom night and give them a slide show to remember.
All in all, I and we have put an amazing amount of love into that little sub-level work environment. There's four drawn hearts with arrows through them on the support pole in the middle of the prep island in the galley. The first one says Angie, the second says Shelly, the third says Big P, and the fourth says Mike. I'm proud and satisfied to say we all put more love, time, work, worry, and tears into that galley than anyone ever hoped for. All for one and one for all, we live love in the name of good times and good food. May it ever stay so.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
This Is Not A Drill
I was hoping to write an intricate blow-by-blow piece about my first real emergency at sea. Fortunately the fire in the engine room was quickly contained, and all that happened was a ten minute interruption of my nap time. I was just getting to sleep when the alarm sounded. I didn't react at first since they've been testing the general alarm (sounds like a classic school bell) all season long, tweaking the volume here and there. So, I assumed it was a false alarm, until Captain Voss came over the loud speaker saying there was a fire in the engine room, all crew report to your muster stations, and all guests muster on the sun deck (top deck, far away from the engine room). My job in a fire emergency is to turn off all the galley fans, just in case the fire were to spread into my kitchen and blowers were to fuel it further. So just as Kevin, the night engineer, also sleeping, was throwing clothes and shoes on, adrenaline clearly starting to flow in him, I rolled out of my bunk to find my clothes and shoes. Quickly I donned them, and walked quickly to the galley stairs, technically a little afraid there might be some dangerous situation in front of me as I descended the stairs. The galley is on the same deck as the engine room, but there's a 40,000 gallon diesel tank in between the two rooms. Fire bad.
No problems though. I turned off the blowers and walked up the three flights of stairs to report to the Hotel Manager, Dani, on the sun deck. while Beth the Expedition Leader called out names of life-jacket wearing guests to check them off, Dani was checking in crew, assigning them to tasks as the bridge directed. Everything went according to plan, no hitches, no problems. Turns out the fire was electrical and started when the bow thruster was started up in preparation to dock at Bartlett Cove in Glacier Bay National Park. Eric the Chief Engineer was in the engine room when it happened and put the fire out quickly. Emergencies have a way of escalating however, so Captain Voss wanted to make sure if things did escalate that we were in a position to keep everyone safe.
Later that night Eric came into the galley to get some ziplock bags. He said the burnt parts kept smelling up the engine room so he was going to seal them in the bags. Apparently electrical fire doesn't smell too good (surprising that the usual diesel and exhaust smells are better than electrical fire). Personally, I figure Eric didn't want his nose to keep reminding him of the scary events from earlier that day.
No problems though. I turned off the blowers and walked up the three flights of stairs to report to the Hotel Manager, Dani, on the sun deck. while Beth the Expedition Leader called out names of life-jacket wearing guests to check them off, Dani was checking in crew, assigning them to tasks as the bridge directed. Everything went according to plan, no hitches, no problems. Turns out the fire was electrical and started when the bow thruster was started up in preparation to dock at Bartlett Cove in Glacier Bay National Park. Eric the Chief Engineer was in the engine room when it happened and put the fire out quickly. Emergencies have a way of escalating however, so Captain Voss wanted to make sure if things did escalate that we were in a position to keep everyone safe.
Later that night Eric came into the galley to get some ziplock bags. He said the burnt parts kept smelling up the engine room so he was going to seal them in the bags. Apparently electrical fire doesn't smell too good (surprising that the usual diesel and exhaust smells are better than electrical fire). Personally, I figure Eric didn't want his nose to keep reminding him of the scary events from earlier that day.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Cold, Wet, Feet
The day before we left Juneau, Carey and I braved the heights of Alaska Zipline Adventures. Accompanied by Beth, one of the Explorer's expedition leaders (also a veteran zipliner) we were vanned up into Douglas Island's ski area, outfitted with harnesses, caribeeners and helmets. Up a tree we went, and a couple flights of stairs later were standing on a wooden platform staring down a dizzyingly long cable stretching from our tree to the next tree. Most forty to sixty foot platforms have railing all around to prevent people from falling. This platform had one side of rail missing, which made sense since we were apparently supposed to jump off the platform (sliding along the cable of course). Beth went first since she had ziplined before, and I admit I had to keep myself from trembling as I took my turn. Each of the five ziplines lasts less than thirty seconds, but they were all thrilling and memorable. We became much more comfortable, and eventually standing on the platform seemed more frightening than being suspended in midair. The owners had built the ziplines over a beautiful creek and boasted an 'eco-friendly' tour - no trees were harmed in the production of this adventure.
The next day was a very early start. We had stayed up late the night before at the Alaskan Hotel visiting the nice people in the room next door. The fast ferry to Petersburg was leaving at 7:00 am, so we got a cab at 5:30 am since the Alaska Marine Highway website had indicated we needed to be there an hour early. Right after the catamaran hulled ferry left dock we nestled into our high backed chairs-with-a-view for a couple hours of napping. When we came to, our eyes drank in the sights. Even at forty-plus miles per hour the cruise was very enjoyable. We spotted some Humpback Whales and numerous Sea Lions, though they were usually a long way off.
we arrived in Petersburg hungry, and walked from the ferry terminal the 1/4 to 1/2 mile down the road to the Northern Lights Restaurant. Piling our two backpacks and four other miscellaneous bags onto the booth, then piling our many outer 'layers' on top of them, we enjoyed the waterfront view and mediocre food. Dave Burg of Viking Travel (another block down the road) has been shore support for American Safari Cruises for many years, and since he's a nice guy, and since I've known him for four years or so, he let us stash our stuff in his supply room for the afternoon. Meanwhile, we met up with a couple who had asked us to take a Seafood Processing tour with them (they needed four people minimum). The tour guide was none other than Patti, a jolly-rancher-sweet eighty year old woman who has been carting American Safari passengers around for years. Finally, I would get to see the tour all those cruise-goers had been seeing all this time.
The Norquest seafood processing plant was or is owned by Patti's family, and she had clearly led tours there more than a few times. She showed us the fish loading dock, processing line, flash freezer, and the salmon roe processing room. She answered all of our questions and made sure we weren't run over by the zooming, honking lift-trucks. After the tour we had a chance to chat with Patti and catch up on how everyone was doing and got big hugs when we said goodbye. At that point we were on our own for a while, so we cruised the main street, poking our head in shops, hanging out with Dave Burg, and buying some belated wedding presents for Trinity and Nathan, our newlywed hosts in Petersburg. Trinity and I had taken Spanish 102 together last semester, and she was spending her summer working at the Tree's Grocery and RV Park which her father built years ago. Since she wasn't off work until 7:00 pm, her husband Nathan met us at the North Dock where he was picking up some fresh Sockeye his grandparents had caught. We hopped in the little red truck (I rode in the bed with their German/Australian Sheperd named Turbo for want of cab space) and he drove us twelve blocks or so to Trinity's dad Larry's house. Larry was out of town for a few days, so we had the rent-free run of the place. Trinity showed up after work and we all had fresh salmon for dinner.
The next couple of days we hung out at Kito's Kave bar a lot, for wireless internet more than drinking. Between wireless internet, beer, a liquor store, two pool tables, occasional DJs, darts, and La Fonda Mexican restaurant and take-out, and friendly local and non-local folk, Kito's Kave has plenty to keep you busy for a while. I don't know the full story, but legend has it that many years ago the only murder Petersburg has ever witnessed happened on the front porch of Kito's Kave. Additionally, though mexican blankets have been hung over them since the restaurant opened, the dart board covers at Kito's are painted with naked ladies. Not really that noteworthy, but certainly part of the strange character of this fisherman's town. Friday we woke up to Nathan's rebuilding-the-back-deck noise, but when it started raining (as usual in the Southeast Alaska summer) Nathan came inside and the three of us spent much of the day playing Guitar Hero/Rock Band on the Playstation 2.
On Saturday, since Nathan has weekends off from his job doing construction work with his dad, Carey and I were treated to a tour of the Island in Trinity's brother's truck (more room than the little red one). Nathan drove us out to Three Lakes Road, a mostly paved journey. Once on Three Lakes Road, we had pavement again for a little while, and as we crested a small hill we spotted a large black bear standing in the road. We tried to creep up on it, but it ran off into the forest soon after. We slowed down as we came to where the black bear had disappeared, and sure enough, he had stopped at the edge of the woods, hiding in the underbrush. Maybe he wanted to catch a glimpse of the big white metal beast; we followed the rustling bushes with our eyes until he had disappeared. Then our journey continued; on to the garnet mine. Nathan explained that a garnet-rich vein of rock ran across this part of the island, under the sea, and all the way to Wrangell, and though it used to be OK to go pick garnets out of the soft rock by the creek, it was technically not allowed now. The owner of the mine was now operating it again and he alone possessed exclusive rights to take garnets from the area. Well, the road wasn't closed, and we managed to ignore the only sign discussing this new restrictive policy, so we reached the end of the road and headed towards the creek.
"You will get wet," Nathan says as we get out of the truck. This wouldn't be the last time Carey and I regretted not having the galosh style boots called Extra-Tuffs, so prominently worn in Southeast Alaskan fishing towns. So she in her hiking boots and I in my sneakers, followed Nathan down what amounted to a tiny creek/mud flow, which was narrow, steep, and overgrown with bushy plants loaded with rainwater. Towards the bottom of the trail, as we began to hear the water-over-rock noise of the creek, ropes had been staked into the ground to help garnet theives like us down the slippery, muddy slide. Nathan showed us how the chunks of rock had garnets embedded in them, like purple, gem-like rock zits. Popping them out occupied our attention for a time, while Nathan headed down the creek to find richer veins. After we'd collected a handful each (keep in mind, they weren't very valuable - not pure, high-quality gems by any means) I was surprised by an "excuse me" from up the slide. I turned to face a State Trooper with a calm but stern look about him. He motioned for me to climb up to him. Ooops.
Though everyone in town (especially Nathan) said this new State Trooper was a jerk and a son-of-a-bitch, he was fairly polite as he informed me that garnet collecting wasn't allowed. He confiscated my garnets, but gave back all the other rocks I had gathered. He did however ask an annoying bank of those horrible, parental sounding rhetorical questions. "Are you taking garnets here today?" Yeah, a couple, but mostly just looking around. "Do you have a right to these garnets?" Um, I don't know. "So, pretty much no." Um, no, I guess not. "Well the owner of the mining rights here is the only one allowed to extract garnets. Do you have his permission to take these today?" No. "Well, I'm going to have to ask you to empty your pockets, and leave this area." Okay. Sorry. I didn't know.
Well, we did know, but we thankfully didn't get a ticket or anything.
We headed for Hamer and Wikan Grocery Store to pick up supplies for a gourmet dinner. I wanted to make Elk stew for the gang, and though Duane nor Dan were in the meat department, the lady who was there took me back into the freezer to find the stash of elk I had ordered at the beginning of the summer. Such a great small town environment - I told her it was $11.95/pound and that they ring it up as bone-in chicken. "Okay, whatever," she says and off we go to Larry's house to start the stew. Carey started the fire in the wood stove to begin drying our shoes. Later we relocated to Larry's lady-friend Nina's house who had a spectacular kitchen. The stew came out beautifully, the mashed potatoes were frighteningly rich, and accordingly I kept the zucchini and carrots on the healthy side. Carey and Nathan had cut fresh rhubarb at Larry's and Carey made a fabulous Rhubarb crisp. Nina added to it with some vanilla ice cream and a bottle of Pear-Caramel sauce. I might not have lain in bed later, groaning with fullness of belly, except for the four or five glasses of red wine that accompanied the evening. Gourmet definitely isn't for sissies.
Too bad we had to get up at 5:30 am the next morning. But, despite the rain, fishing day was upon us, so we were happy to. Larry was working the convenience/liquor/coffee/laundromat/RV-park store for Trinity so she had the day off to play. The happy/sleepy couple and Turbo the dog arrived around 6:30 am, we packed our stuff and hitched up the fifteen foot skiff. Stopping for coffee, microwave breakfast burritos, and frozen bait (herring), we drove quite a while to get to Banana Point. Launching proved challenging. The tide was almost all the way out and the launch-ramp didn't go all the way to the water; rock flats were at the base of the launch and our skiff needed lots of help to become water-borne. So, though Trinity is a foot shorter and half my weight, we share the same shoe size and I was able to squeeze into her Extra-Tuffs to help Nathan launch the skiff. We backed the truck down as far as we dared, waded out as far as we could, and rocked and shoved the skiff loose. But, not before I hit a couple of mud holes, getting submerged almost to my knees. I dried Trinity's boots out as much as possible and we traded back. Fortunately I had brought two extra pairs of socks with me. They all got soaked by the end of the day.
From Banana Point, Nathan steered us towards Zarembo Island (don't ask me where that name came from - I have no idea). We zoomed along the aqua blue water, still, but for the splatters of rain, as Turbo alternated between huddling away from the cold and sticking his face into the rainy wind to sniff the air. We made for the reportedly Halibut rich waters of St. John's Bay, and anchored once we found a spot with the right depth. With no shelter on the skiff, the seasoned fishermen aboard were obvious; Trinity and Nathan were covered in rubber raingear from head to foot. Carey very quickly donned one of the full body, bright orange, survival oriented Mustang Suits. I had very wet sneakers (though I pulled my wool socks on around lunch-time) and rain pants and coat. Nathan taught us the basics of Halibut fishing, and in very little time I caught the first fish of the day. Too bad it was a tiny little junk-fish called a Bull-Head. Pretty or ugly, I couldn't decide. Nathan and Trinity were great fishing guides, rigging and baiting the leaders at the end of our thick poles. Carey got things really going when she caught a 108 lb. halibut - first halibut of the day! Though she caught the fish, I caught it on video. I'm sure if you navigate to her myspace website after this weekend, you can find the video there. We ended up catching three more halibut that day, albeit a half to a third the size of the first one. Nathan did all the work, snagging the lazy, drifting halibut with his gaff, hauling them as they suddenly started flopping out of the water and into the boat, knocking them on the head with the back of the gaff, and bleeding and gutting them. He dumped buckets of sea-water into the boat to slosh out all the halibut gore after each cleaning, letting the bilge pump evacuate the rinse. The weather got worse as the day went on. We had plans to have dinner at Trinity's mom Rose's house that night, so we headed back around 4:00 pm after a long, exhausting, and wonderful day of fishing. The bad weather knocked us around a little on the way back, making double sure we'd all be sore in the morning. Back at Larry's house, we had to keep the shower cool for a while until our extremities warmed up a bit. Even the warmish water made my fingers and toes tingle with un-numbing needles. We had a wonderful dinner, and cleaned and fletched the halibut on Rose's back deck. I can't wait until September when I'll finally get to eat some of our catch.
Now, onboard the not-fast-ferry Taku, Carey and I will be sleeping in the reclining chairs tonight, waiting for Sitka to arrive at 3:45 am.
P.S. We actually slept on the floor.
The next day was a very early start. We had stayed up late the night before at the Alaskan Hotel visiting the nice people in the room next door. The fast ferry to Petersburg was leaving at 7:00 am, so we got a cab at 5:30 am since the Alaska Marine Highway website had indicated we needed to be there an hour early. Right after the catamaran hulled ferry left dock we nestled into our high backed chairs-with-a-view for a couple hours of napping. When we came to, our eyes drank in the sights. Even at forty-plus miles per hour the cruise was very enjoyable. We spotted some Humpback Whales and numerous Sea Lions, though they were usually a long way off.
we arrived in Petersburg hungry, and walked from the ferry terminal the 1/4 to 1/2 mile down the road to the Northern Lights Restaurant. Piling our two backpacks and four other miscellaneous bags onto the booth, then piling our many outer 'layers' on top of them, we enjoyed the waterfront view and mediocre food. Dave Burg of Viking Travel (another block down the road) has been shore support for American Safari Cruises for many years, and since he's a nice guy, and since I've known him for four years or so, he let us stash our stuff in his supply room for the afternoon. Meanwhile, we met up with a couple who had asked us to take a Seafood Processing tour with them (they needed four people minimum). The tour guide was none other than Patti, a jolly-rancher-sweet eighty year old woman who has been carting American Safari passengers around for years. Finally, I would get to see the tour all those cruise-goers had been seeing all this time.
The Norquest seafood processing plant was or is owned by Patti's family, and she had clearly led tours there more than a few times. She showed us the fish loading dock, processing line, flash freezer, and the salmon roe processing room. She answered all of our questions and made sure we weren't run over by the zooming, honking lift-trucks. After the tour we had a chance to chat with Patti and catch up on how everyone was doing and got big hugs when we said goodbye. At that point we were on our own for a while, so we cruised the main street, poking our head in shops, hanging out with Dave Burg, and buying some belated wedding presents for Trinity and Nathan, our newlywed hosts in Petersburg. Trinity and I had taken Spanish 102 together last semester, and she was spending her summer working at the Tree's Grocery and RV Park which her father built years ago. Since she wasn't off work until 7:00 pm, her husband Nathan met us at the North Dock where he was picking up some fresh Sockeye his grandparents had caught. We hopped in the little red truck (I rode in the bed with their German/Australian Sheperd named Turbo for want of cab space) and he drove us twelve blocks or so to Trinity's dad Larry's house. Larry was out of town for a few days, so we had the rent-free run of the place. Trinity showed up after work and we all had fresh salmon for dinner.
The next couple of days we hung out at Kito's Kave bar a lot, for wireless internet more than drinking. Between wireless internet, beer, a liquor store, two pool tables, occasional DJs, darts, and La Fonda Mexican restaurant and take-out, and friendly local and non-local folk, Kito's Kave has plenty to keep you busy for a while. I don't know the full story, but legend has it that many years ago the only murder Petersburg has ever witnessed happened on the front porch of Kito's Kave. Additionally, though mexican blankets have been hung over them since the restaurant opened, the dart board covers at Kito's are painted with naked ladies. Not really that noteworthy, but certainly part of the strange character of this fisherman's town. Friday we woke up to Nathan's rebuilding-the-back-deck noise, but when it started raining (as usual in the Southeast Alaska summer) Nathan came inside and the three of us spent much of the day playing Guitar Hero/Rock Band on the Playstation 2.
On Saturday, since Nathan has weekends off from his job doing construction work with his dad, Carey and I were treated to a tour of the Island in Trinity's brother's truck (more room than the little red one). Nathan drove us out to Three Lakes Road, a mostly paved journey. Once on Three Lakes Road, we had pavement again for a little while, and as we crested a small hill we spotted a large black bear standing in the road. We tried to creep up on it, but it ran off into the forest soon after. We slowed down as we came to where the black bear had disappeared, and sure enough, he had stopped at the edge of the woods, hiding in the underbrush. Maybe he wanted to catch a glimpse of the big white metal beast; we followed the rustling bushes with our eyes until he had disappeared. Then our journey continued; on to the garnet mine. Nathan explained that a garnet-rich vein of rock ran across this part of the island, under the sea, and all the way to Wrangell, and though it used to be OK to go pick garnets out of the soft rock by the creek, it was technically not allowed now. The owner of the mine was now operating it again and he alone possessed exclusive rights to take garnets from the area. Well, the road wasn't closed, and we managed to ignore the only sign discussing this new restrictive policy, so we reached the end of the road and headed towards the creek.
"You will get wet," Nathan says as we get out of the truck. This wouldn't be the last time Carey and I regretted not having the galosh style boots called Extra-Tuffs, so prominently worn in Southeast Alaskan fishing towns. So she in her hiking boots and I in my sneakers, followed Nathan down what amounted to a tiny creek/mud flow, which was narrow, steep, and overgrown with bushy plants loaded with rainwater. Towards the bottom of the trail, as we began to hear the water-over-rock noise of the creek, ropes had been staked into the ground to help garnet theives like us down the slippery, muddy slide. Nathan showed us how the chunks of rock had garnets embedded in them, like purple, gem-like rock zits. Popping them out occupied our attention for a time, while Nathan headed down the creek to find richer veins. After we'd collected a handful each (keep in mind, they weren't very valuable - not pure, high-quality gems by any means) I was surprised by an "excuse me" from up the slide. I turned to face a State Trooper with a calm but stern look about him. He motioned for me to climb up to him. Ooops.
Though everyone in town (especially Nathan) said this new State Trooper was a jerk and a son-of-a-bitch, he was fairly polite as he informed me that garnet collecting wasn't allowed. He confiscated my garnets, but gave back all the other rocks I had gathered. He did however ask an annoying bank of those horrible, parental sounding rhetorical questions. "Are you taking garnets here today?" Yeah, a couple, but mostly just looking around. "Do you have a right to these garnets?" Um, I don't know. "So, pretty much no." Um, no, I guess not. "Well the owner of the mining rights here is the only one allowed to extract garnets. Do you have his permission to take these today?" No. "Well, I'm going to have to ask you to empty your pockets, and leave this area." Okay. Sorry. I didn't know.
Well, we did know, but we thankfully didn't get a ticket or anything.
We headed for Hamer and Wikan Grocery Store to pick up supplies for a gourmet dinner. I wanted to make Elk stew for the gang, and though Duane nor Dan were in the meat department, the lady who was there took me back into the freezer to find the stash of elk I had ordered at the beginning of the summer. Such a great small town environment - I told her it was $11.95/pound and that they ring it up as bone-in chicken. "Okay, whatever," she says and off we go to Larry's house to start the stew. Carey started the fire in the wood stove to begin drying our shoes. Later we relocated to Larry's lady-friend Nina's house who had a spectacular kitchen. The stew came out beautifully, the mashed potatoes were frighteningly rich, and accordingly I kept the zucchini and carrots on the healthy side. Carey and Nathan had cut fresh rhubarb at Larry's and Carey made a fabulous Rhubarb crisp. Nina added to it with some vanilla ice cream and a bottle of Pear-Caramel sauce. I might not have lain in bed later, groaning with fullness of belly, except for the four or five glasses of red wine that accompanied the evening. Gourmet definitely isn't for sissies.
Too bad we had to get up at 5:30 am the next morning. But, despite the rain, fishing day was upon us, so we were happy to. Larry was working the convenience/liquor/coffee/laundromat/RV-park store for Trinity so she had the day off to play. The happy/sleepy couple and Turbo the dog arrived around 6:30 am, we packed our stuff and hitched up the fifteen foot skiff. Stopping for coffee, microwave breakfast burritos, and frozen bait (herring), we drove quite a while to get to Banana Point. Launching proved challenging. The tide was almost all the way out and the launch-ramp didn't go all the way to the water; rock flats were at the base of the launch and our skiff needed lots of help to become water-borne. So, though Trinity is a foot shorter and half my weight, we share the same shoe size and I was able to squeeze into her Extra-Tuffs to help Nathan launch the skiff. We backed the truck down as far as we dared, waded out as far as we could, and rocked and shoved the skiff loose. But, not before I hit a couple of mud holes, getting submerged almost to my knees. I dried Trinity's boots out as much as possible and we traded back. Fortunately I had brought two extra pairs of socks with me. They all got soaked by the end of the day.
From Banana Point, Nathan steered us towards Zarembo Island (don't ask me where that name came from - I have no idea). We zoomed along the aqua blue water, still, but for the splatters of rain, as Turbo alternated between huddling away from the cold and sticking his face into the rainy wind to sniff the air. We made for the reportedly Halibut rich waters of St. John's Bay, and anchored once we found a spot with the right depth. With no shelter on the skiff, the seasoned fishermen aboard were obvious; Trinity and Nathan were covered in rubber raingear from head to foot. Carey very quickly donned one of the full body, bright orange, survival oriented Mustang Suits. I had very wet sneakers (though I pulled my wool socks on around lunch-time) and rain pants and coat. Nathan taught us the basics of Halibut fishing, and in very little time I caught the first fish of the day. Too bad it was a tiny little junk-fish called a Bull-Head. Pretty or ugly, I couldn't decide. Nathan and Trinity were great fishing guides, rigging and baiting the leaders at the end of our thick poles. Carey got things really going when she caught a 108 lb. halibut - first halibut of the day! Though she caught the fish, I caught it on video. I'm sure if you navigate to her myspace website after this weekend, you can find the video there. We ended up catching three more halibut that day, albeit a half to a third the size of the first one. Nathan did all the work, snagging the lazy, drifting halibut with his gaff, hauling them as they suddenly started flopping out of the water and into the boat, knocking them on the head with the back of the gaff, and bleeding and gutting them. He dumped buckets of sea-water into the boat to slosh out all the halibut gore after each cleaning, letting the bilge pump evacuate the rinse. The weather got worse as the day went on. We had plans to have dinner at Trinity's mom Rose's house that night, so we headed back around 4:00 pm after a long, exhausting, and wonderful day of fishing. The bad weather knocked us around a little on the way back, making double sure we'd all be sore in the morning. Back at Larry's house, we had to keep the shower cool for a while until our extremities warmed up a bit. Even the warmish water made my fingers and toes tingle with un-numbing needles. We had a wonderful dinner, and cleaned and fletched the halibut on Rose's back deck. I can't wait until September when I'll finally get to eat some of our catch.
Now, onboard the not-fast-ferry Taku, Carey and I will be sleeping in the reclining chairs tonight, waiting for Sitka to arrive at 3:45 am.
P.S. We actually slept on the floor.
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