Snettisham 2011-5

After a stressful week and a hectic packing frenzy after work, we were finally at the harbor with all our gear in hand or in a cart. Suddenly the ever-active trouble shooting corner of my mind realized that I'd forgotten to bring more 2-cycle oil (I'd used most of the remaining bottle to fuel the boat at lunch). Although I probably had enough to make it home, it wasn't worth the risk, so we loaded everything back onto the bed of the truck and rushed home, where my mother had graciously checked to see that we had some in the garage. So it wasn't until 7:00 that we finally got underway and headed south. A tiny but brutal chop beat against us all the way down the channel and to Point Arden (the kind of chop that probably isn't more than six or eight inches high but beats the heck out of everything). After that the seas got slightly larger and more widely spaced and we were able to pick up speed and the ride became more comfortable. Nevertheless, it was a two and a half hour trip. We passed lots of whales, including at least five in Taku Inlet, two more around Grave Point, and at least one in Snettisham. A whale at Circle Point (unfortunately some distance away) breached two or three times, made several caudal-peduncle throws, then proceeded to slap its pectoral fins on the water repeatedly.

I was pretty jarred from the ride down by the time we reached the homestead. Thankfully, Chris was in charge of dinner and made use of our new fire pit again. He got a little fire going with cardboard and kindling, then threw on some dry alder to grill steak (buffalo for me). The smoky deliciousness that resulted was possibly the best steak I've ever had. Just as Chris got the fire going we saw a dark fin-shaped object in the water, which I've now come to associate with swimming eagles. Sure enough, an eagle was slowly making its way to shore and looked like it might come up within sight. Sure enough, it hopped up on the beach this side of its nest with a lovely little flounder in its talons. Later it flew into the low branches of a nearby tree and we watched it feast. By then it was 10:30 and the light was fading, so photography failed.

The next morning I didn't manage to sleep in as intended, but headed to the lodge around nine. I wasn't much inspired to work after a couple of exhausting weekends, so after changing the propane tank for the lights (it had run out the night before), bringing in a couple loads of firewood, and beginning to build a pre-fab Black and Decker vice/work table, I made myself some Russian tea and read my book on the couch. When the boys showed up we had lunch and relaxed a bit more. I worked on the table until I stopped in frustration (the directions, while better than most, were still far from clear), then Matt stepped in and heroically finished it for me. I need counter space more than a work bench at the moment, so I dug out a small piece of plywood from the ADF&G marbled murrelet camp which fit the top perfectly and nailed linoleum on top. It works great. Later I also applied a piece of linoleum to the existing countertop next to the sink and the remaining piece outside to protect the wall under the water filters where a drip from the third filter fills a bucket and then splashes.

Having finished that, I turned my attention to the stone path taking shape in front of the lodge. The boys had made it over half way from the water (the log) to the porch the weekend before, and Myron had brought a bunch more slightly smaller flat stones up to the fire pit area to pave it. He'd also started placing stones at the bottom of the stairs. Although I like his idea of paving the fire pit area, I decided to use his carefully chosen stones to instead continue the path. I carefully chose interconnecting stones, digging out the land underneath them to make sure they were appropriately level, stable, and weren't significantly different in height (to prevent tripping hazards). It was a slow process, and I only placed about four stones before I quit and we all walked down the beach to show Matt Garnet Rock. Matt's father is a lapidary, so he had a few tidbits to share about garnets. We discovered one exciting spot after another--whole streaks of garnets in the rock, large, protruding garnets, clusters exposed together on a flat surface, etc. After exploring the outcropping, we wandered farther down the beach and I stumbled onto a large flat rock (coffee table sized), no different from hundreds of other similar rocks, but studded with garnets. Some of these were slightly orangish in color, in contrast to the classic ruby red of the others. Who knew!

When we returned to the lodge I fell to work again at the rock path, battling increasingly irrigating bugs and stubborn clumps of grass. I soon switched from using the shovel for leveling ground to using a Pulaski--much more efficient for ripping up roots and clearing ground! As I worked I discovered many nice, flat rocks under mud and vegetation, increasing my supply and my hopes to connect the two ends of the path. Chris took off fishing from a kayak and Matt helped me move some rocks and level a few that the boys had dropped. Then I decided to quit for the day and we wandered down to where Chris was, cast a few times, and wandered back. I managed to place a few more rocks, then started another little fire in the fire pit; more alder was applied, this time for Taku style salmon.

The next morning I managed to sleep in a tiny bit longer, then decided to start the day with a dip in the new bathing pool. Wearing nothing but a towel and xtratuffs, I hurried to the pool and stepped in. What a cool spot that is! The shale rock is soft underfoot, the setting more or less private, the pool perfect. I crouched down, rinsed myself off, and dipped my head under the waterfall. I probably wasn't in the pool for more than a couple of minutes, but I felt wonderfully refreshed afterwards, a feeling that lasted all morning until I started laboring under rocks again, undoing my cleanliness. First, though, I quickly swapped out the curtains in Mink (which I adore) with the new curtains I'd purchased, bringing my favorite curtains up to my cabins. Then I walked down the slotted view that the boys had cut the weekend before in front of Mink. Quite a few large alders lay there, too many to let go to waste (especially now that we're cooking with them more). It was high tide and I had a crazy plan for transporting them all closer to the lodge. Instead of hauling them over there, I wanted to float them. So I grabbed a line from the lodge and tied them all together, then returned for another line to pull on a as a lead. Long story short, it didn't work very well. I did manage to lug the whole bundle to the water, but that was as far as they got. It was a lot harder to pull them than I expected, and my waders started leaking, so I tied them to a rock and left in frustration.

Instead, I finished the rock path. I expect that I'll replace most of the middle section I did towards the end, as I was using smaller rocks and the path dips there, putting those rocks (like their predecessors) in danger of flooding and succumbing to mud. Nevertheless, it's a vast improvement, and now one can walk from the porch to the beach on relatively stable, attractive dry rocks.

We had a picnic lunch inside, then I started on another little project while the boys began to dig a hole in the middle of the meadow for my future riverboat. I've been considering buying a riverboat for a couple of years, but after a visit up the Taku River on a Fish and Game project where we zipped around in little jet boats, there was no question anymore that I needed to own one. But what to do with it at Snettisham while I wasn't around was a worry. Anchoring it out is simple enough, but if the bilge pump should fail, I'd lose everything in a day or two of rain. The day before I'd found a spot on the beach just downriver of the end of the log that holds the meadow in (that it likely responsible for creation of the meadow) that was free of obstructions and had a nice gradual grade that I might be able to pull a boat up. I pictured using a come-along or trailer winch at a tree at the edge of the forest, but the boys were convinced that it would work better if a post was placed in the meadow instead. I had my reservations, but they were persuasive, so I allowed them to start digging me a hole, either for a pier block/4x4 pressure treated post or a huge 6x8" post I had lying around. They quickly found that the meadow was too wet. Their hole filled in when just a foot or so down, so we returned to the original plan. Hopefully it'll work once I have a boat!

In the meantime, I'd begun cutting the seven asphalt shingles I'd brought down on our first trip to Snettisham into rectangles that fit on the 12" boardwalk connecting the lodge area to the cabins. In wet weather, the pressure-treated boards get slick, and after several days they grow an even slicker algae. I grew up walking on asphalt for

traction, and use it to climb near vertical ramps at the docks at low tide. I managed to cut all the pieces, but didn't actually secure any. Instead, I quit for the day, washing the dishes and cleaning up the lodge. I took Matt up to show him the water source, noticing that the water has dropped markedly since I installed the olive barrel this year, but was still feeding it ample water. Then I read for a bit before bringing the boat in to shore just as the tide turned. We left around 4:10 on a flat calm ocean, Chris at the helm. The water in Snettisham was a gorgeous emerald color, then turned green as we entered Stephen's Passage. By the time we passed Taku Harbor, however, the water was brown. Above Grave Point, a popular resting spot for bald eagles, a crazy looking eagle jumped out at me and I told Chris to stop and back up. In the top of a tree was a leucistic/partially albino adult eagle; its head and tail were pure white, and the rest of it was a pale gray-brown with a few darker highlights. Unfortunately, I only managed a few poor photos before he flew away.

As we continued on, Chris spotted a cluster of whale blows near Circle Point and we headed in that direction. They dove in the distance and we zoomed toward them, shutting down a few minutes later when they came up in front of us. There was a group of four, a group of three, and a single whale. They were moving in our direction and fluked beautifully. A minute or so later, the single whale erupted about 30 feet away, showing us his tubercles and competing his breathing cycle while heading toward shore. The two other groups came up behind us a few times, and one split off and passed close by the stern of the boat. While the groups were down, we saw (and heard) at least four other whales around us--bringing the total to at least a dozen. Just as we were getting ready to pull away I saw a huge splash along the shore of Grand Island some distance away; we all stared in that direction long enough to see a whale come up in a beautiful breach. It was the most exciting whale action I've seen in Stephen's Passage outside a fall group up!

Chris grilling steaks	Striation of garnets	Garnets on the flat rock
The path begins...	...and continues....	...and continues...

New curtains in Mink	My curtains in Hermit Thrush	Alders
Digging in the meadow	Leucistic/partially albino eagle	Leucistic/partially albino eagle