Saturday, 14 August
| Somewhere over the rainbow skies are blue, and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true. … L. Frank Baum … |
There’s a pale rainbow visible across the water. Maybe the skies somewhere waaaay beyond it are blue, but not here. There’s not even a hint of color in the skies over St Herman Harbor. The thick cloud cover is pale gray and it’s quite low. Those clouds are the reason why we’re still in Kodiak and not at sea right now.
Here's the short story — the airspace above Kodiak was quiet today; with visibility nil, flights were canceled. That means our boat mates didn’t make it in. Not to worry; we have an alternate plan in the works to make our dream of seeing the coastal bears of Katmai come true.
It’s amazing how restorative a good night’s rest can be. We woke up refreshed after eight hours of sleep last night. (The décor at the Best Western might need some work, but the beds sure were comfortable). Another good night’s rest and our batteries will be completely recharged. Tonight, though, we’ll be sleeping aboard the boat that will be our home away from home for the next week. More on that later.
Single Star in the mist — St Herman Harbor, Near Island
When we woke up at 7:00a, we didn’t need to pull open the blackout curtains to know that it was raining. The pitter patter of raindrops on the roof was enough of a clue. We were meeting Lee Robbins, the captain of the Single Star, for breakfast at 9:00a, so we took it easy for a change, using the time until then to rearrange the contents of our bags for the next phase of our Alaska trip. (Haven’t quite mastered the art of traveling light on photography-focused trips, I’m afraid!)
Lee found us in the lounge where we were partaking of the continental breakfast included in the room rate. Over a cup of coffee, he gave us the lowdown on the plans for the week and alerted us to the potential weather-hitch in today’s departure plans. Agreeing to play it by ear, we exchanged phone numbers and Lee left to finish provisioning the boat.
We’d been planning to wander around town on foot, but decided to keep the car for a bit longer and go for another drive, this time following the Rezanof Drive/Monashka Bay Road portion of the red route (just the small bit circled with a dashed line on the map below).
As we drove to Miller Point, I found myself entranced by the moss-covered trees along the road. Draped in what looked like green lace and velvet, the trees seemed like they belonged in an enchanted forest. We would have enjoyed walking amongst them had it not been raining so hard at the time. Instead, we enjoyed the view from the car as we drove by slowly, looking for any critters that might be hiding out amongst the trees. No luck; they must have been taking refuge from the wet weather elsewhere.
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An enchanting forest on the fittingly nicknamed Emerald Island of Alaska.
When we reached our first stop, Fort Abercrombie, the weather gave us a break and the rain turned into a light misting just long enough for us to walk around and snap a few photographs. Located at Miller Point, the fort is a WW II defense installation that was built in 1941. In addition to the remnants of two eight inch guns, there’s a museum in a restored munitions bunker. The latter would have been a good place to get out of the weather for a while, but it was closed for the morning.
From the edge of the cliff, we looked out at the scenery that was shrouded in fog, and debated hiking down to the jagged rocks that stretched out to sea like the spine of a dragon. The debate was short; we didn’t think it would be a good idea to break our necks on the steep, slippery trail leading down to the edge of the water.
Remnants of one of the two 8-inch guns at Fort Abercrombie.
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Left: Pointed out to sea, the gun is seemingly ready to defend Kodiak.
right: the jagged rocks of miller point at low tide.
We completed the drive all the way to the end of the road, hoping the break in the weather would permit us to hike the Termination Point Trail. We were out of luck; by the time we were parked at the trailhead, the rain was once again coming down hard. We tried walking on the beach instead, but the driving rain was far from pleasant, so we gave up on that idea as well.
The rain notwithstanding, I was determined to make the most of our drive. So, while Mui was checking in with Lee, I went over to check out the action at the nearby Monashka Creek Bridge. On one side, anglers were trying to hook salmon. On the other side, the salmon were swimming around, playing out the last act of their life cycle.
Fascinated, I watched as a female used her body to dig a shallow depression called a redd (nest, if you will). While she was doing that, her mate was charging and biting the fish that were converging on the area. Next, swimming together, she released her eggs over the redd. At almost the same instant, the male released a cloud of milt to fertilize the eggs. That done, he went back on guard duty while the female covered the fertilized eggs with gravel to protect them from predators, be they fish, birds, or bears. Like a choreographed ballet, they repeated this behavior several times.
I wish I had some video of the spawning behavior, but sticking a camera underwater would have disturbed them. Instead, here’s a short clip that shows part of the amazing journey the salmon make as they return from the ocean to their spawning grounds. As you watch the video, keep in mind that the word salmon comes from the Latin term “salmo,” which means “leaper.” (Apologies in advance for the quality; it was another rainy, overcast, miserable day for this outing as well.)
It was 1:00p when we got back into town. The car was due back to AVIS by 2:00p, so we topped off the tank and returned the car to the airport. (Regular gas, by the way was $3.85/gallon; won’t complain about the prices back home anymore … at least not for a while.) Here’s where being a guest at the Best Western paid off; instead of having to pay for a cab, we took the free hotel shuttle back into town. A quick few minutes to check out and store our luggage, and we were walking the now familiar path along the Shelikof Waterfront.
We considered skipping lunch, but our tummies would not hear of it. Consulting the list of eateries recommended by a local, we headed to Henry’s Great Alaskan Restaurant. The pub was nearly empty; just a few people at the bar and a woman at what looked to be “lottery central” going through tickets at lightning speed. I was amazed to see her swiping the bad tickets off the counter and on to the floor, but no one stopped her, so I guess that’s just the way it’s done. By the time we were ready to leave an hour later, the pile on the floor was several inches deep and she looked none too happy.
Mui gets his news fix at Henry’s.
Henry’s turned out to be an excellent choice and we really enjoyed our meal. We split a crisp Caesar salad that had just the right amount of dressing on it and shared a grilled halibut that was done to perfection. With nowhere special to be, we took our time over a sweet treat aptly named “Alaskan Snowballs” (vanilla ice cream coated with shredded coconut and drizzled with chocolate sauce). Yes, we shared that too; trust me, there was plenty.
A sweet treat on a rainy afternoon in Kodiak.
Lee picked us up around 4:00p and drove us to the Single Star, docked at St Herman Harbor on Near Island. After giving us a tour of the boat, he left us to settle into our cabin and went to finish up a few more errands in town.
In short order, our belongings stowed away, we were wandering around the harbor. It was still raining lightly, but that didn’t stop us from walking over to the far side of the harbor. Except for a few fishermen tidying up their nets after a day of plying their trade, all was quiet as we wandered down one dock after another. The light fog served to mute any sounds, with only the occasional screech of a gull flying overhead renting the silence.
sea lions hauled out on a floating dock in St Herman Harbor.
When we returned to the boat, Lee and his partner, Kim, were stowing the provisions. “We’ll stay here and leave tomorrow morning; that will give the Shelikof [meaning the strait we had to cross to Katmai] time to die down a bit too,” Lee said as he put a jar of cashews in the pantry. A smoother crossing and a chance for our boat mates to make it into Kodiak — it sounded good to us.
The new plan in place, we joined Kim and Lee for some Italian at a place called Angelo’s Trattoria. Decent food, but ohhh those portions! I had enough left of my ravioli to have not just another dinner, but lunch as well. What a shame to waste all that food!
Now, we’re back on the boat — just Mui and me. We’re settled into our bunks on either side of the cabin. He’s editing his eagle footage from yesterday while I wrap up today’s blog entry. I realize I haven’t said much about the boat; I’ll do that in another post. I have just enough time to write it before I call it a night.
Update — 30 September
When I originally wrote this post, I mentioned a woman sitting at what looked like lottery central at Henry’s Great Alaskan Restaurant, going through tickets at lightning speed. In today’s edition of the Washington Post, the following photo was published as part of an article titled, In Alaska, a promise unmet (written by Robert O’Harrow Jr).
The caption of the photo taken by Nikki Kahn reads:
“Nome: Thwarted dreams — in the form of pull-tab lottery cards — accumulate
on the floor of the polar bar, a spot that’s popular with Alaska natives.”
Now I understand better what I was seeing; and you can see what I was trying to describe …
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