Snettisham 2010-3

Snettisham 2010 - 3: A Champagne Roast
May 29-31

AG pod in front of Lucky Me

After the enormous progress made the weekend before (including sprucing up the interiors and exteriors of the cabins), I was looking forward to having guests down at the homestead. My cousin Jeannette and her husband Ben met Chris and I at the harbor with their black lab Jaeger late Saturday morning. The sky was cloudless and bright, but a strange southerly breeze was kicking up when there should have been a westerly. With four humans, two dogs, food, and sundry construction items (including all the valves and fittings I need to bring water to the last two cabins along with a 100' coil of black poly pipe) the boat was pretty loaded down, but we rode well and there seemed to be ample room for everyone. It helped that Jaeger quickly set up camp on the back bench seat where he appeared to nap for much of the way down.

Pacificos in hand, we turned out of the harbor and into an unpleasant chop. It wasn't terrible, but the wind was brisk, which didn't bode well for the rest of the ride if the seas picked up farther out. We puttered along, picking up speed where we could and dropping back where we needed to. I was contemplating how bad it would have to be to end the trip altogether when Chris pointed out a whale. "Where!?" I asked, a little surprised (we were only across from Sheep Creek or so and still very much in Gastineau Channel, where whales are rare). I looked where he was pointing closer to the Douglas shore and saw two dorsal fins rise up together. "Orcas!!!!" I shouted and we watched several more come up in our direction, then disappear. We mozied a little closer to shore, then shut down, hoping they would come up in our vicinity, crazy with excitement (well, I was, anyway!). Another skiff which was next to the orcas when we first spotted them stopped nearby, leaving behind two kayakers who had been on the other side of the pod. We waited quite some time, glancing behind us to make sure they hadn't slipped under the boat, when they finally resurfaced back near the kayakers, having turned 180 degrees underwater to head back out of the channel. The other skiff and we caught up with them at a distance and traveled along their right side. What had originally appeared to be only a handful or orcas turned into a much larger group, six or eight sometimes surfacing around the same time, with at least two large males and two calves (one quite small and orangish) among them. The calves helped us spot the pod, as they started coming up before the others. Several open saddle patches identified them as residents. I wanted to get some ID shots, but didn't want to cut across them, so I stayed on the right. After a couple of breathing cycles they cut across our bow and moved closer to shore, so I wound up on the left side anyway and managed to get some very clear ID photos. Once we wound up ahead of them when they emerged from a swimming cycle and shut down while they passed us. Jeannette and I sat in front watching them swim by--gorgeous shiny orcas in the sunshine! Fantastic. I couldn't have offered up anything better for my guests and we were all pleased with our timing; an hour earlier or later and we may have missed them.

I'm pretty confident that one of the males was AG13 (a.k.a. Hanus), but none of the other four or five ID shots yielded any matches in the badly outdated resident orca ID book I have, including two other males and a female/young male with a prominent nick. I'm quite frustrated by the lack of updates for resident orca ID; all of those individuals may in fact be in the old book, but were calves or un-nicked at the time. Nevertheless, at least I identified the pod! About a month later I received a more updated photo genealogy of the SE resident pods and have been pouring over photos in the hopes of identifying more individuals.

Knowing that we couldn't possibly top that, we left the orcas and continued on our way. The chop laid down a little and we enjoyed a brief calm patch in Taku Inlet. At Taku Harbor I counted 15 eagles flying between shore and a bait ball in the middle of Stephen's Passage. The seas picked up and we bumped and plodded along south. As we passed the Seal Rocks and approached Port Snettisham, we saw a whale ahead as the seas laid down a bit and I stuttered excitedly when I saw what looked like a tall black dorsal fin nearby, then another! As we pulled in closer, what looked like fins turned out to be the snouts of lunge feeding humpbacks. While we watched, three whales lunge fed along a short stretch of shore north of Pt. Styleman. I've never seen such vehement feeding! Several times a whale would get into a pattern, lunging repeatedly without taking a breath between. Sometimes straight up, sometimes on their sides, sometimes simultaneously, they lunged and lunged and lunged while we watched. It was the best solo lunge feeding I've ever seek and I took some photos I'm rather proud of; Chris caught a perfect lunge on video. We were all a little floored by our good luck! Eventually the whales slowed down and dispersed a bit and we moved on, passing a flock of hundreds of Pacific loons at the entrance to the Port and at least five more whales between the point and Mist Island where another huge flock of loons sat on the water. Jeanette and I even saw a small school of fish at the surface, just a few feet from the boat--maybe the remnants of a once-vast school. A few sea lions passed by. We saw a whale with white-spotted flukes dive off Mist Island and when we pulled up a circle of bubble rose up in front of us, though the whale emerged far away. Something pretty intense is happening in that area.

Not surprisingly, we didn't find any whales in the river inlet when we arrived, and they didn't come in all weekend, not that we were complaining! Unlike Ben and Jeannette's last trip with us, the tides were completely in our favor and we pulled right up to the old log that holds the meadow in when we arrived. After unloading all our gear and the dogs (and discovering that Jaeger is a bit heavier than Nigel), I anchored out the boat and returned to shore. The sun was blazing enticingly, so we had a picnic lunch on the new deck, looking over the deep green meadow with its irises just starting to bloom and on over the inlet. It was supremely pleasant. We chased the sun down to the edge of the water as it slid behind the mountain, but eventually retreated into the lodge with a bit of a fire to warm up. After tortellini, burnt garlic bread, salad, and chocolate chip cookies for dinner we chatted for a bit and turned in. I'd been hustling all week buying groceries, drinks, valves, gas, etc. and had risen at 6:30 that morning to continue with chores until we headed out at 11:00, so I was pretty exhausted.

Photo by Ben or Jeannette	Photo by Ben or Jeannette	AG20? (Photo by Ben or Jeannette)
	Photo by Ben

AG13
Jaeger (Taku Inlet behind)	Lunge feeding humpback whale (roof of mouth)	Lunge feeding humpback whale (roof of mouth)

The next morning dawned equally as sunny, and equally as breezy. I showed up at the lodge at nine to find Ben and Jeannette doing yoga on the deck. What a spot for that! We all ate pancakes for breakfast, then I worked a bit on the gray water system, as I'd finally purchased new filter bags from Garness Industrial in Anchorage. First, though, I wanted to remove the foam insulation that I'd sprayed all over the bottom in a fruitless attempt to raise the water level a year or two ago. It was a good idea, but the foam didn't adhere to the side of the barrel and wound up floating; of course, the whole mass was the width of the bottom of the barrel and so didn't fit out the top, which made it awkward to remove. Ben fetched me a kitchen knife and I cut a section off which allowed the rest to pull free. Then I zip tied a filter bag around the outlet and inlet hoses and set the barrel back in place. I really struggled to situate the barrel so the inlet pip sat comfortably in the barrel and the thru-hull fitting fit inside the drain pipe; it just seemed like they were too far apart. Finally I was fiddling around with the drain hose and realized that a flexible hose was inside of it to connect the

barrel to the rigid black pipe that I'd completely forgotten. Problem solved! While we took a break I watched a squirrel that was scolding ridiculously and noticed that he was on a branch right next to a larger, brilliantly sorrel hued squirrel. I couldn't tell whether he was scolding at us or the other squirrel (who sat motionless and apparently unmoved by the affair), but the smaller one did seem to chase after the other one later.

Finally, we set about moving lumber, a not-so-secret hope of mine for the weekend (lumber is one of those tasks that is exponentially easier with a few more hands). Ben and Chris put down supports in the newly cleared area to keep the lumber off the ground and make it level while Jeannette and I worked on moving a stack of 1x4s staged under a log where I wanted to move the plywood from the ADF&G camp that was stacked against the original stack of lumber. When we were finished, Ben helped cut additional stickers for that section, then we moved all the plywood over there. Individually and as a chain we moved all the good lumber over to the new spot, from small to large. The last section was less organized and involved a lot of stacks of PT lumber scraps, but in general it was neat and tidy. Chris and I separated the "burn stack" into lumber to be cut for the wood stove (tossed uphill to join the rotten 1x4s) and lumber that was too rotten or full of nails to mess with.

We broke for a quesadilla lunch on the porch, then went for a kayak on the rising tide upriver. Seals surrounded us as we crossed the river, some raising their shoulders above the water to gaze at our little flotilla. Chris and I took the

double kayak Keet while Ben took Cheech and Jeannette took Taan. Unfortunately, I still hadn't located the missing scupper plug for Cheech, so Ben started to get a little wet, a problem he partially solved by jamming the hole with rope and an upsidedown beer bottle. Once crossed over we headed upriver past the big avalanche chute and its waterfalls, pushed by an increasingly brisk wind blowing in from Gilbert Bay. The more we realized how the wind and tide were drifting us upriver the more we worried about bucking it on the way home! The breeze also sapped some of the sun's heat, especially in the shade as we rounded the grassy shoreline (the beach was submerged at the high tide) and continued on to Whiting Point several hundred yards further. All along the way there was considerably less beach exposed (none in fact) so I was relieved to see that there was still a muddy beach in the lee of the point. We pulled our kayaks out and slopped through the mud to stand upriver on the rocky point and watch the river rush by with its load of pollen. There must have been a pollen outbreak farther upriver to cover the water in yellow dust (the pollen has diminished on the coast). I also visited the game trail just inside the woods and found more scat and bones.

We hung out in the sunshine for a little while before mounting our kayaks and cruising up to meet with the strong current rushing off the rocks and crossing the river. Having drifted along with that current in the past, I'd really hoped that we could use it to help us buck the wind on the way back. Not far into the river, however, we were hitting strong chop and decided to cut downriver and reduce the distance. My guilt about Ben's wet kayak and the drips from my paddles blowing back onto Chris quickly dissipated as we began to crash through a steady chop, much of which washed over the bow and drenched me. It was the strongest chop I'd kayaked in and, again, I was baffled by the strong southerly wind on such a beautiful day! Jeannette got quite flooded as we reached the shore and found some rocks to empty her kayak; for the first time I pulled scupper plugs while underway to drain water out of the bottom of the boat. It was tough going, but amazingly the current was working in our favor and we made good headway into the wind. By the time we made it back to the homestead we were all drenched and cold; Chris lit a fire and, after changing, I started to haul the bonfire wood through the bushes and part way down the beach to

stage for a bonfire that night, laying down scraps of plywood through the currents keep them out of our way without cutting them. I figured it would help me warm up! Soon

Chris and the others joined in until we'd made an impressive stack and left behind only the final cabin kit pallet--all 4x16 feet of it. I figured I'd cut it up like Chris and I did the other three the summer before, but Ben convinced me to burn it too, unwilling to leave behind such an eyesore. Leaning it on its side, the four of us managed to hump it a few feet at a time through the brush and down to the stack. After picking up all the little scraps left on the ground, the place was transformed--a neat dirt clearing on the inside of the brush. It was wonderful.

Having snacked on returning from the kayak, no one was in a hurry for dinner, so we gathered at the edge of the water and Chris and Ben began making a pyramid of lumber in one of the crates. Beings that it was my lumber we were burning, I had the honor of lighting the match that started it all. A little shuffling of cardboard was all we needed and the pyramid was soon ablaze! At that point we broke out the champagne. I'd brought it along for a sunny post-arrival drink on the deck, but found out that Sunday was both Jeannette’s last day of active duty in the Army and their 6th anniversary, so we saved the bottle. Sitting in lawn chairs trying to avoid the occasional drafts of super hot air from the bonfire, we drank champagne and toasted to the day. We kept adding lumber to the fire and pushing the ends of long boards burnt in half into the middle and it blazed on as the stacks grew rapidly smaller. Nigel, terrified of the popping sounds of burning wood, disappeared. I found him on the path to my cabin and tucked him inside away from the strangely echoing snaps. After about an hour we threw on a piece of plywood and set the Korbel bottle on top (but not before Ben stood on the smoking plywood for a photo and I somewhat less heroically leapt across). The plywood curled as the flames crept closer to the middle and all the while the label remained remarkably intact. It wasn't until just before the bottom burst out and the bottle collapsed that the label burnt in any way! The next day Jeannette found quite interesting lumps of green glass in the ashes, one piece with a rusted nail sticking out. Our last task was to throw on the 16' pallet and watch it burn before retiring for dinner. I made Philly cheese steak sandwiches and we ate inside (at 11:00) while the last of the lumber turned to coals. Though exhausted, we grabbed a bag of marshmallows and headed back to the fire (I doubt that a superior bed of coals has ever been known in Snettisham). I found the young alder I'd cut down the week before and Ben and I made sticks for everyone. We each roasted a marshmallow or two, then Chris and I left Ben and Jeannette on the beach and headed to bed.

Adding filters to the gray water olive barrel	Little mushrooms growing on the rotting 1x4s	The new lumber storage area
Curious harbor seal	Chris pulling our kayak through the shallows	Ben and Jeannette on Whiting Point
Kayaking in the chop (photo by Ben or Jeannette)	Pollen stuck to the rock at high tides	Jaeger and the champagne
Lighting the bonfire	Bonfire	Roasting marshmallows

The next morning Ben and Jeannette helped me make egg burritos for breakfast and did the dishes before we finished the job of moving lumber. The previous day in my excitement I'd completely forgotten about the stack of lumber on the deck, so began sorting through it while Ben and Jeannette walked down the beach. I'd rearranged some of the lumber in the

new staging area to accommodate the cedar and hemlock boards and they joined in hauling them over when they returned. Soon they were all neatly stacked. We all took a soda break in the sunshine (the few hazy clouds earlier in the morning had passed), then Ben and Jeannette packed up and headed out on the water to try their hand at photographing seals while Chris and I ate quesadillas and cleaned the lodge. I tarped up all the lumber before they got back, then raked the newly cleared area while they ate. At around 2:30 we headed out. The southerly breeze had kept up during the morning, but by the time we rounded River Point we were bucking what appeared to be a northerly chop. I didn't share this with the others, but I was pretty disappointed that the strange wind would choose that moment to turn against us. In an effort to get relief, I took us across the Port to the west shore and we hugged the coast about 20 feet from the edge of the rocks. This tactic worked pretty well and we were able to run at speed a few feet from uncomfortable chop. I'd seen a whale in that area, but it didn't come up there again. Soon, though, a whale fluked to the left and we slowed down and drifted for ten minutes; Chris said he'd spotted three whales in that area, but we never saw them and soon moved on. The area was thick with eagles, though.

I took the scenic route between the mainland and Mist Island and stopped for a whale that came up right alongside the strange upright logs that look like the masts of a sunken ship. We stopped and watched this small whale swim, his dark shape visible under water between some of his breaths (a rare occurrence that close to the mainland). He turned and headed toward the middle of the Port where we could see two other whales coming up on a regular basis; another was on the outside of Mist Island and at least one more was almost out of sight across the way. We could hear them all exhaling, and the closer ones inhaling, when the engine was shut down. We decided to visit the two animals in the middle the Port , who may have been sleeping given their regular breaths and lack of dives. When we got a little closer we noticed the dramatic size difference and took them to be a rather large female with her calf (my first cow and calf pair in Snettisham). I maneuvered downwind of them in the hopes of getting misted, but never managed it. They were slowly moving toward the eastern shoreline, the baby breathing more often than the mother, then they turned and crossed our bow. As they passed us, still leisurely breathing and not diving very deep, we suddenly saw three whales coming up in a row! I think the third whale may have been the one we left behind in Harlequin Cove. It's unusual for other whales to join mothers and calves in Alaska, so I'm curious as to how long that lasted (and why). We let them travel on their way, then continued out of the Port. Just before we came abroad Point Styleman we crossed a dramatic line in the water that we could see for some distance as we approached. Inside the Port was irritating chop; on the other side of this line, the water was flat calm. It was extremely bizarre and none of us had a good explanation. I counted us extremely lucky, and the lovely flat water lasted all the way home. Chris drove from the Seal Rocks to the harbor past a couple more whales (one of which made an enormous splash in Taku Inlet). Sunburnt and tired, Chris and I left Ben and Jeannette at their car above the harbor and headed home for showers and sleep.

Hundreds of seals hauled out on a sandbar	New clearing where the lumber used to be	Seals (photo by Ben or Jeannette)
Small humpback in Harlequin Cove	Line in the Port separating chop from smooth water	Humpback calf

Photo by Chris