Snettisham 2009 - 1: Snow
April 25-26
It
was a long, snowy winter. April crept up and the driveway still
resembled
a toboggan run between the snow drifts.
Every night it froze. My patience for summer waned and I finally
dug a
path through three feet of snow just to reach the Ronquil. There I shoveled snow out of the boat where it
was piled up
three or four feet above an icy layer and slowly also shoveled an
escape route around the front of the boat and eventually drug
it out
to a
more accessible place in the driveway. Chris and I changed the
spark
plugs and did a few other odds and ends during the third week of April,
then we
hit Western Auto on Saturday (along
with every
other boater in Juneau, apparently) and bought what I thought would be
everything I needed for spring maintenance. On Sunday I set to
work, met with the
typical
frustrations. Three more trips to Western Auto and many
hours later
I declared the boat water-ready. I'd changed the lower unit gear
oil,
changed the fuel filter, lubricated
the propeller shafts and the engines,
mounted a new
propeller, cleaned the engines, fueled the boat, and started it up in
the driveway.
My hands were filthy, I was well-chilled, and eager to try it out.
The
next Saturday I got up and hustled about loading gear and buying
groceries and
trying to hitch the boat up to the trailer. The front trailer
wheel jack had
stiffened over the winter so we had to jack up the trailer to get it on
the
hitch, which wasn't cooperating at all. We eventually got it to
work and
Chris
and I headed to the harbor for the inaugural run and a
reconnaissance
mission to the homestead. The weather was mild, calling for two
foot seas
or less (the forecast doesn't get better) and no one else was at the
harbor when
we
launched the boat uneventfully (see harbor photo). We were met
with only moderate
ripples
down the channel as we drank our leaving-the-harbor beers and by the
time we
hit Taku Inlet the seas were flat and glassy under an overcast sky with
occasional sprinkles (see photo of Stephen's Passage). A whale
blew along the
Chris and I quickly installed the stove pipe, lit a fire, made quesadillas, and napped. I woke up first and stepped outside to stash the perishables in the shade; it was so sunny and mild that I laid down on the stack of siding covering the porch and dozed a little in the sun. Finally we started working. One of the big projects I have planned for the summer is a porch close to ground level in front of the lodge. For the last several years I've used makeshift porches made out of the 4'x16' pallets that the cabin kits came on. They've started rotting through, so I decided it was time for something more attractive and permanent. The first step was destruction of the pallets themselves. I figured there were two choices--a big fire on the beach or cutting them up for firewood. Since I was pretty low on firewood, the latter seemed the better choice. I envisioned hacking away at them with the chainsaw; but, while I managed to rummage around and locate the chain saw, mixed chainsaw gas, and the bar and chain lube, no amount of effort would get the chainsaw to catch for more than a moment and I finally put it away. I think it needs a new spark plug.
Then
it occurred to me that I had another cutting tool that might do the
trick. I dug out my sawzall and Chris and
I carried
the generator to the porch and started her up without a hitch. First we turned one of the porches upside
down, sawing through the cross braces at the bottom of the pallet in
three
places. These were rotten enough that we
were able to pull them off by hand, with or without nails.
Once we got those off we were left with four
2x4s running the length of the pallet.
At this point we turned it back over and traded off making long
cuts
down the whole length of the pallet at the edges of the 2xs, vibrating
with
the saw. These too ripped off easily,
leaving the 2x4s to deal with later (see photos of the demolition).
This was all pretty rigorous work and after we finished one
pallet we
took a break to walk down the beach to the base of an avalanche just
downriver. I'd seen the carnage from this
in previous
years, but never seen the snow. The
chute emerges from the forest over a sheer rusty cliff about 40 feet
high--it
must be an impressive site when the snow comes down (see photo on the
right).
This was the first year I'd seen snow at
Snettisham at all. There was a wide bank
in the marshy meadow in front of the lodge, the plank path was half
covered
along with all the currents and devil's club on the water side (see
photo below), and
there were
several drifts in the forest.
We
came back to the lodge after the walk and deconstructed the other two
pallets,
creating an impressive stack of firewood and revealing the black mud
beneath. Next step: drainage. The earth in front of
the lodge is perpetually saturated.
Before building a porch over the top of it I wanted to drain it
if
at all
possible. My dad suggested that I dig
drainage ditches through the mud to capture the water and dry out the
surface. Chris and I grabbed shovels, a
pick, and a hoe and got to work along the right side of the
future
porch (facing the lodge). He started at
the bottom where the mush coalesced into pools of water where the
forklift had
left indentations years ago. I started
at the top and worked my way down.
Immediately the channel started running water and we enjoyed
watching it
build up only to dig out our dams and see it rush away.
It was pretty sloppy, but fun.
At about 8:30 the light was starting to dim and we were pretty worn out. The tide was super low, so I couldn't resist a walk out on the sandbars. We walked straight across the river, marveling at the insane concentration of gulls. I've never seen such a density of gulls in my life (see photo below of a flock). There were literally thousands and thousands of them, gathered on offshore sandbars and flying down from the river in droves. We crossed one section of sandbar that was a mass of footprints, feathers, and poop. The tide was so low that we nearly made it to the other side of the inlet--the river volume must also have been low, probably still frozen farther up. A narrow deep channel was all that kept us from walking to the far shore a stone's throw away, and the current wasn't very strong.
Exhausted, we made out way back to the lodge for supper.
The
next morning I did a few odds and ends around the property, removing
the tarp
from the lodge's outhouse and replacing the olive barrel in the gray
water
system within the
bear proof box. I
didn't hook the drinking water system up yet as I wanted to replace the
hose
that connects the sink to the hose that connects to the filters outside
first. It was so short that we were unable
to
disconnect it last fall. The nut on the
sink end is situated between the sink and the wall and is inaccessible
without
pulling the sink out. The other end fits
into a hose that comes through the outer wall, which requires the 
use
of two
wrenches to unscrew, which we didn't have last fall.
My parents mercifully gave me wrenches for
Christmas (which worked great), but the situation forced me to twist
the metal
mesh hose brutally to unscrew it. A
longer hose will allow me to lift out the sink so I can unscrew that
end in the
future without twisting the hose up (the nut rotates around the hose).
Once I took the existing hose off, I sat down for some serious thinking. My other major goal for the summer is to install the hemlock paneling on the ceiling of the lodge to match the walls. I insulated it last summer but wasn't able to put the paneling up. The first thing I did was measure some joist spans to make sure they were close enough to 16" on center (they were). Then I measured the distances between the end walls and the first joists, which are less than 16" . Last summer I put a plan together of staggered joints with lengths of 4, 6, 8, 10, and 12 foot spans in an attractive pattern and I wanted to determine how many cuts of each length I needed. That was simple enough, but I needed to account for the fact that the lengths would need to be adjusted because the last spans between joists on either end of the building weren't 16" (and were different). Plus I want to put an access hatch in the middle on one end, just to complicate things further. I did a lot of furious math and came up with what I hope is a pretty solid list.
We
had quesadillas again for lunch, then got busy outside.
Chris continued happily digging in the mud,
fleshing out the existing ditch and helping it drain out onto the beach
(see photo below). I got busy thinking
about the new deck and
how to construct it. The problem was
height. It made sense to use the three
posts for the front of the lodge to nail the bottom support for 
the
porch. A 2x8 seemed sensible, but once you
nail in a
2x8, add 2x8 joists and decking, you're 16" off the ground at the back,
and the
land slopes down from there. Plus that
was practically at the level of the landing on the existing stairs,
which would
make things awkward. I thought and paced
around, dug in the dirt a little, and wielded my measuring tape until I
came up
with a solution. A 4x4 support (made of
2x4s nailed one at a time into the posts) would save me 4". I excavated in front of the porches until I'd
gained another 4". This brought me
pretty much flush with the bottom step of the stairs, so I figure I'll
put a
little addition onto the deck when I'm done to connect them. I spent some time digging in front of the
posts, then nailed a short piece of 2x4 onto the side of the steps
flush with
the bottom step as a guide for when I start building the porch. 
In the meantime, Chris started working on a second ditch, digging deep into the murk. We used the measuring tape to determine how large we wanted the porch and where the corners would be so he could avoid those areas. I decided to see what putting in the ceiling would be like inside while he continued the drainage. First I cut two 2x2s about ceiling height, then nailed on flat boards to create big pads for holding and pushing up panels. Then I cut three roughly 8' boards according to the measurements I'd worked out that morning and brought them inside, lifting the first one to the back wall with the pads and setting up the step ladder. It was a little awkward, but with the pads holding the panel close to the ceiling I was able to nail it in, first on one end, then the other. The second panel went up pretty easily as well, though moving the ladder around to avoid the stove and couch was awkward. Looking at how poorly the ends of the boards met I remembered that I'd need to square each end and bevel them so they meet flush. The last board turned out to be an inch too long--so much for my careful measuring! It was a good lesson. Thankfully, the panel that it butted up against was unusually short, so I was able to jam the ceiling panel above it to make it fit. I may need to measure the final piece each time. I was heartened by this experience, though I know it'll be difficult once I need to start fitting the tongues and grooves together.
By
this time the afternoon was wearing on and we needed to head back to
town. We cleaned up and shut off the
propane
and Chris
hauled gear to the beach while I kayaked out to the boat.
We saw one whale as we left 
Thank
goodness for kickers! My little Suzuki
started up without a hitch and we turned back into the waves. I thought the kicker might be able to steer
the boat even if we used the main (which was thankfully pointing
straight ahead
when the steering went out), so Chris started her up.
The plan worked great, although we had to
take it slow as we made our way toward
The
next day I brought the boat to Tanner's Marine in
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