Snettisham 2009 - 2:  Muck
May 8-10

Whale near Seal Rocks

I'd spent a weekend in town on a fruitless attempt at spring whale watching north of Juneau.  A series of aggravating mishaps foiled the effort and I was beginning to question my sanity, my lifestyle, and my integrity as a marine naturalist.  First we managed to launch the boat (all the way at the end of the road at Echo Cove) without a kicker or an ignition key.  This was thanks to the mechanic at the shop that fixed the steering unit and hadn't bothered to mention that he'd taken the kicker and the key off the boat (or return them as I walked out the door).  Then the wheel fell off the trailer when we tried again the next day (moments after the boat was launched a second time in Echo Cove).  Thank goodness it didn't fall off on the highway with a boat sitting on it.  The latter misfortune resulted in a seven hour boat ride from Echo Cove to the Douglas boat harbor through a southerly front (coincidentally the only rain and stormy weather we had over a 10 day stretch of beautiful weather).  It was agonizingly slow going down Lynn Canal bucking two-three foot seas, but by the time we passed Lena Point, the seas laid down and the ride around the back side of Douglas was relatively smooth (the tide was too low to come through the channel all week).  We did pass two whales at a distance and had some nice looks at a common loon, but the goal of the day had turned from leisurely whale watching to surviving a Herculean boat ride.  Thankfully we had picnic food and plenty of time.

So that Friday Chris and I loaded our gear on the boat, now at home in it's slip for the summer.  I'd taken the previous afternoon off of work to run a million errands (buying groceries, a new hose for the sink, nails, and a bunch of lumber and pier blocks).  Since we'd cleared the porch area of the old pallets and started draining the mud, I wanted to begin the porch process in earnest.  I bought enough pier blocks and 4x4s for the foundation along with enough 2x8s for the joists.  It was enough to weigh down my truck considerably and I was anxious to unload.  That evening I headed over to Douglas, parked the truck at the top of the launch ramp, and carried a few gas cans and a load of lumber to the bottom.  It was a long walk (low tide of course) and I could tell it would be a brutal evening.  "If only I could get the truck closer to the boat!" I thought, "There must be a way!"  I don't know why it took me so long to figure out that I could actually drive the truck down the launch ramp (as though I were launching a boat) and load from there.  First, though, I decided to get the boat, since I didn't know how much lumber would fit.  I parked the truck and walked over to the slip to bring it around.  Thankfully, no one was using the launch ramps, so I backed the truck down and started loading from the edge of the water.  It quickly became clear that I'd bought much more lumber than I could haul.  I managed to load on all the 4x4s, the pier blocks, and about eight 2x8s, as well as the gas and a few other items before I felt in danger of overloading.  The Ronquil sat lower in the water than usual as I puttered back to the slip, the lumber protruding between the windshields.

So we were mostly loaded the next day when we carted our gear to the boat after work.  We beat against a southeasterly all the way down, occasional sea spray making its way between the windshields and getting our sandwiches wet.  We stopped to check out a whale at Grave Point among all the strange green buoys--this whale was moving quickly and erratically and made several close, unexpected passes.  The underside of its tail was beautifully white.  We continued beating our way slowly south and passed more whales.  There were also whales in Snettisham and sea lions on the haul-out, but it was getting late, we were tired, and anxious to eat our soggy Subway sandwiches.  We arrived at low tide and anchored the boat in the mud, hauling our food and gear across the flats and leaving the rest for the next day.  Chilled, we lit a fire, ate dinner, and went to bed relatively early.

The next morning we slept in a bit.  At high tide I kayaked out to the boat (see the photo of Nigel watching) and brought it to shore.  We dropped everything on the beach, slowly hauling it up near the lodge after I reanchored the boat (see photo).  The pier blocks (concrete foundation blocks with built in saddles for a 4x4) were particularly awkward.  At that point I thought it was finally time to get the water system working.  I'd installed the new hose in the sink that morning and didn't expect any problems, except some leakage where a bear had bitten through the water hose in the SAME PLACE as last year.  Naughty bear.  That section of hose was covered in snow during the first trip, so I don't know whether it happened last fall or this spring.  The olive barrel at the head of the water system was just as I'd left it on the side of the creek.  I dug out a few big rocks in its little hollow, then placed it in the creek.  Although it might have been low enough to capture water, it didn't seat nearly as low or as well as usual, so I manhandled it out of the creek again and started moving more rocks.  The water was fast-moving and agonizing cold on my hands, so I took to scooping out most of the rocks blindly with my feet, hanging onto an overhanging branch to keep my balance.  After I'd scraped out a ton of rocks I maneuvered the barrel back in and this time it sank right down into place. 

Back at the lodge I was disappointed to see that only a tiny trickle of water was entering the filters.  I knew that water was reaching the lodge, as it was dripping out of the bear holes, but there wasn't much pressure.  I hoped that, given time, the air would work its way out of the hose and the pressure would increase.  But, I left the water on for another eight hours and never got more than drip from the faucet.  When I unscrewed the hose from under the sink, it drained out quite a bit of water, but somehow it never made it through the faucet.  Very frustrating.  We wanted to work on it, but the porch took precedent with our limited time.  That afternoon we continued digging and by the time we quit we had three pier blocks more or less placed correctly and square.  There was a lot of back and forth, holding up 2x8s and making sure they were square with the building, measuring all the distances many times over, leveling the pier blocks, etc.  Chris also added some extra drainage ditches to dry out the area between the original two (the ditches, though somewhat effective, didn't have a very wide scope of influence).  In the end we wound up having to dig drains adjacent to every foundation hole.  One hole we dug close in between two ditches was dry to begin with--which was pretty exciting--was eventually filled with water.  I could be making a huge mistake building here--we'll have to see.

The next morning it was sunny and breezy and I headed out on my very first Coastal Observation and Sea Survey Team (COASST) survey.  Last winter my mother and I volunteered to survey beaches to record dead seabirds.  COASST is a citizen science monitoring program that gathers data on seabird strandings.  It started in Washington State and has been active in other places of Alaska including the Aleutians.  It only recently moved into the Juneau area and most of the accessible beaches around town are now taken.  Although they prefer year-round data, they allowed me to take a seasonal beach which, after all, is adjacent to the densest population of marbled murrelets known to science.  I walked upriver along the edge of the rocks to the big point that sticks out, then turned around and walked lower on the beach, keeping my eyes peeled for feathers and feet.  I walked past the lodge as far as there was accessible beach (one point past the eagle nest).  Alas, no dead birds.  I did startle a bunch of eagles in the trees along the shore upriver, found a dead smelt, and followed some bear tracks heading toward the lodge (so at least I know that someone is awake).  I'll retrace these steps once a month all summer and make my reports to COASST.