I wasn't exactly the picture of energy Friday afternoon, but I was more or less ready to go and rightly assumed that I'd get more done, and have a more relaxing Saturday, if I woke up at Snettisham.  So I headed out, later than I would have liked (7:00 pm) with two bushings to complete the water systems and a handful of other items.  I'd visited the boat a few days earlier to screw in the float switch (which had vibrated loose), but hadn't yet fueled the boat, so I was slow to get underway.  Alone this weekend, I missed Nigel terribly as I left the harbor (normally my companion on solo trips).  I ran into a slight chop on my way south, slowing me down just a little.  I timed the run--20 minutes to Marmion Island at the end of the channel, ten minutes to Arden, half an hour to Grave Point.  There was one whale in Taku Inlet, and three between Grand Island and Grave Point.  In that area I happened to notice a nice little yacht, probably a small cruise ship, pointing north and not making much way.  As I gazed at them I saw a black fin break the water in front of their bow--an orca!  So naturally I cruised on over there, stopping to let what appeared to be the last member of the pod pass between our boats (which resulted in a really fantastic picture of the orca and the Safari Escape in the background).  I came around their port side so what photos I could get would be on the left side of the orcas; everyone waved cheerfully as I pulled up.  But, we were at the tail end of the pod which was heading north, so I continued after them and the Safari Escape turned south to continue its voyage, leaving me alone with the pod.  Ahead I could see a couple of females/young males and one large male.  I moved north to catch up, staying well clear of them on the left.  I soon found myself close alongside Grand Island, and suddenly one of the female orcas to my right turned around for one breath, then made a 90 degree turn and came straight at me along with another female (they were probably 75-100 yards away at that point).  I had no idea what they were up to, but thought it was a good sign, so I shut down and waited.  The first one had a closed saddle patch and a large, ragged nick in her dorsal fin, so I suspected transients; the second female, however, had an open saddle patch, so I immediately knew they were residents.  I think these are AF47 and AF21, respectively (they're sisters).  After a couple of breaths they went quiet for a bit.  I looked in all directions and noticed a suspicious disturbance in the water just off the port beam, like a bubble had come up.  Moments later an orca surfaced about eight feet off the stern and dove under the boat.  Then what appeared to be a calf (with a nice open saddle patch) surfaced just off the starboard bow, then what I think was one of the adults just off to port (I got photos of all three).  It was extremely exciting!  Remember that I'd shut down when they were still some distance out, so all this activity was deliberate on the orcas' part. Either I was trailing a school of delicious salmon or they'd come to check me out.  A few moments later, one of them came up 50 yards ahead of me heading north again, then one came up just off the port side, then the other came up, also at a distance heading north (which suggested again that there were three individuals--two females and a calf).  I guess they'd had their fill of me!  Although I'm usually caught up in the moment when encounters like that happen, I often retrospectively wonder if I should have done something to capture their attention.  I saw a documentary not long ago that included an interview with an orca biologist in New Zealand who aid that orcas will stay with boats if the people in them are engaging and entertaining them.  Otherwise, they quickly tire and move off.  I also know that when diving with friendly dolphins (where they are not harassed by people), the more entertaining you can be underwater (twisting, swimming like a dolphin, etc.) the longer your encounter is likely to be.  I always want to be respectful, but maybe I should be shouting out my glee and waving at them!?  They can't have any idea how delighted I am to see them when I'm silent.  Or maybe they do.

In the distance ahead the large male beckoned me, likely the key to identifying this pod.  As I began to move forward, he spy-hopped dramatically in the distance, giving me a glimpse of his huge paddle-like pectoral fins.  I wondered what he was looking for--did the females and calf give him a heads up that I was coming?  Was there something else out there?  I certainly didn't see anything.  He was a challenge to come across, but I eventually managed to wind up at an acceptable position to his left (without getting too close) to see his saddle patch and dorsal fin clearly and snap a few photos.  The very open saddle patch was unmistakable; he was AF19, and therefore the pod was AF22--the same pod we'd encountered several weeks earlier.  They must have been very spread out, as I only ever saw six individuals; I must have passed by the others without noticing earlier in my trip.  I let AF19 pass by, snapped a few photos of another female straggler, and turned south again.  What luck I've had this summer!

The chop slowed me down a bit more as I passed Limestone Inlet (it was now approaching 9:00 pm) but came on my stern as I pulled into Snettisham.  I arrived there with the high tide around 9:30, defeating my ideas about going to bed early.  But, orcas take precedent!  I quickly unloaded all my gear, anchored the boat, hauled everything up to the lodge, and relaxed for a few minutes before heading to Hermit Thrush and bed.

Leaving the harbor (the back of my boat)	AF47	AF21
Calf? just off the boat	AF19	???

The next morning began a flurry of activity in preparation for a homestead full of guests the following week.  When I say flurry, I don't mean frenetic rushing around, as I soon began to wear out and more slogged my way from cabin to cabin than scurried, but I put in a solid ten hour day (excluding lunch and dinner breaks) before reaching the end of my rope.  When I think about how much time I've put in (not to mention money) to prep the cabins for this particular group of guests (the first time my cabins will be entirely full), I felt foolish for a few minutes before I remembered that nearly all the work I'm putting it contributes to the overall goal of prepping the place for commercial guests (or just continuing its improvement); it's just that the immediate inspiration was rapidly approaching with the arrival of my friends.  I started out by placing the 1-micron filters in the second two filter housings at each cabin (these replaced the 5-micron filters I'd been incorrectly sent).  In the process, I discovered that one of the filters at Hermit Thrush wasn't even set up to take this style of filter--it was a "filter in the head" style!  My frustration with the company that supplied them increased, as this filter was already set up in the middle of a water system; replacing it would require taking the whole thing apart.  In the meantime, I'll simply use two 1-micron filters and forgo the 10-micron filter, which means the first filter will probably clog much more quickly with all the particulates getting through.  After that I finished the last two water systems, first Harbor Seal, then Hermit Thrush.  Both of these water systems suffered from extremely stiff and curved sections of poly pipe between the valve and the filters, forcing the three filters to jut out from the cabins and preventing a straight line connection to the hole in the wall and the sink inside.  On Harbor Seal I solved the problem by moving around the valve section of pipe back up the slope a few feet and supporting the curved pipe near the filters with a boulder--an attractive and functional fix.  While working on Harbor Seal, I noticed how the front wall was coated in salt spray (the tiny droplets beaded up were salty tasting) and fine silt, some even piling up on the window sills, evidently blown in off the river--no wonder the hardware corrodes so badly there!  Once all the piping was glued in place at Harbor Seal I moved to my own cabin, which presented an even more radically curved pipe.  This time I solved the problem by screwing a big hook into the foundation to hold the poly pipe against the wall.  I also removed the old tarp that had been laying against the side of the building for several years, which made a nice depression in which to place the filters.

Following completion of the water systems, I turned to curtains.  In Mink Cabin I installed all the curtain rods and tried out all the remaining patterns; one of them completely charmed me (a country design of embroidered flowers and berries) and another I discarded as not appropriate to my cabins.  I installed rods and curtains in Mink and Harbor Seal and curtain rods only in Hermit Thrush (since I'll need to find another design and curtains are least critical in the most isolated cabin).  During this time I was also checking off a handful of other tasks including detarping the cabin outhouse, clearing the edges of paths with a machete, sweeping out the insides of the outhouses, and delivering supplies to the cabins including kleenex and paper towels.  I also worked at fixing leaks in the filter systems at each cabin, with slight success.  In the end, each system leaks in the same place where the first plastic fitting attaches to the brass valve; by the end of the weekend I'd outfitted each with a coffee can or small tub to collect the drips.  Cottonwood leaks a little between the filters, and somewhere along the way the first filter lost its main o-ring, causing it to leak badly and the whole system to fail, a disappointment to say the least.  During these errands I also gathered up almost everything from each cabin that was not residence-related.  Each one still had an assortment of tools, supplies, tarps, paint, etc. from before the time of the lodge.  As the afternoon wore on and my energy waned, I carried load after load to the lodge until I had an impressive mess on the deck and inside.  Then began the laborious task of sorting through it all.  Boxes and tubs of tools became neatly organized, ropes and buckets were stashed out of the way, and I covered most of the floor with boxes and supplies to put in the attic.  At around 5:30 I made some chili for dinner, finished my book, and fell asleep on the couch for about half an hour.  After dinner I continued to tidy up the lodge and hauled a bunch of goods up into the attic before calling it quits for the day and shuffling off to Hermit Thrush to read a bit and fall asleep.

The next morning I got to work at 8:00, dedicated to finishing the cabins first thing.  I put bottom sheets on the beds, delivered towels and soap, and put pillow cases on pillows.  Each cabin looks similarly charming with a bed, a cot, a sink, and curtains on the windows (see photo of Harbor Seal above).  I also finished slashing the trails, though I suspect much of my efforts will be overgrown by the next weekend, especially along the path to the water.  The tide was high at 11:19, so I hurried through the morning to avoid leaving anywhere near the 4:30 low tide.  I finished stashing things in the attic, did the dishes, swept the floor, brought in a few loads of wood, washed the outsides of the windows of all the cabins, and prepared fresh newspapers with fresh masking tape to cover the windows when I left.  One of my last tasks was to plant rhubarb in front of the lodge.  A friend had brought me several rhubarb plants from her garden, two of which I brought to Snettisham as my first domesticated plant.  It seems an appropriate addition and I think it'll do well and provide some local treats next year.  I chose two places--one on either side of the path, and set to work with a pulaski digging up roots and dirt.  Both spots were at the edge of the currents, but I hope neither spot will be too wet to sustain them (I think the currents grow to the farthest extent into the marshy meadow that will support them).  Because much of the holes I dug were filled with roots and rocks, I harvested some soil from around the firepit to fill them back in around the rhubarb, haphazardly re-leveling with a rake when I was done.  I slashed down some of the plants around the rhubarb and watered both thoroughly.  I then decided I had time for one last task that I've wanted to tackle since last summer.  The inside trim on all the windows in the lodge were either loose or just tacked in.  Although it seems an easy job to just nail them in, no task is as simple as it seems!  First I had to take the globes off all four propane lights so I could remove the delicate mantles, as the vibrations from nailing nearby tend to shatter them.  From there it was relatively simple, if not much fun, to nail in each piece (thankfully I'd come across finish nails in my organizing).  With that done, the lodge was tidier than ever.  I took a last look around, hauled my gear to the water, retrieved the boat, and hastily loaded up and took off, fueling up once I was in deep water.  For the last year or two I've been putting ten gallons of gas in the larger gas tank when leaving Snettisham, as I was burning nearly that much on every trip down.  Lately I've not been burning as much (probably thanks to the new thermostat and other engine maintenance last winter), so I returned to my previous routine of adding just five gallons.  Sometimes that results in switching tanks very close to Juneau (usually just outside the harbor).  But at least that way I know that the tank can hold ten gallons the next time I fill it without risk of overflowing or inaccurately measuring oil. 

Silt and salt spray on Harbor Seal	Filter system at Harbor Seal	Filter system at Hermit Thrush
My favorite curtains (temporarily at Mink)	Stump of the old matriarch behind Cottonwood	Rhubarb!

The seas were choppy in Snettisham, coming out of the Speel Arm and then in from Stephen's Passage, and I worried that the partly cloudy weather came by way of a westerly.  Thankfully, the seas in Stephen's Passage were nearly calm up to Grave Point, after which a light following sea pushed me along.  I swung my head back and forth the whole way searching for cetaceans, but found only one whale that I remember.  However, as I approached Gastineau Channel I saw a dark bird on the water and something in the back of my mind told me it was unusual, though I couldn't have said why.  As it lifted off the water I suddenly knew what it was--a jaeger!  Jaegers are pretty rare around Juneau, though I have seen them before in Taku Inlet.  It headed toward Admiralty, so I took off after it, determined to catch up if I could and verify its identify, possibly to species.  I pushed my throttle to the max, and barely kept pace.  It slowed a few times as though to settle on the water, so I did gain some ground, but after five minutes or so it became clear that I was not going to win that battle.  I left the jaeger to its travels and turned back toward Douglas.  Naturally, I ran out of gas in the main tank about 100 yards from Marmion Island and switched tanks (which bodes well for the efficiency of my engine).

Orca next to the boat, Grand Island behind