A very brisk breeze is waving Nigel Cottonwood around as Jia Jia and I sit on the front porch and Cailey lays in the sunshine down on the lower deck. Other than the occasional wind roars, it's very peaceful as we approach lunch time. We came down two days ago with the hope of staying at least until Monday, but the west wind forecast predicts a long and miserable ride, so we expect to leave this evening when the boat floats. We left Juneau on Friday at 9:30 am to a flat calm channel, 1-2' seas out of the Taku across the Open, then comfortable down Stephen's Passage until just north of Seal Rocks. Jia Jia managed to fall asleep then, just as strange seas began coursing towards us, out of the port. Yep, instead of the sanctuary which I usually get, the north wind was also barreling down Speel Arm and out the port and we had an absolutely miserable ride all the way to the river. Or, rather, Cailey and I did while Jia Jia slept soundly!

So I was a bit haired out when we arrived, my body tense from all the bouncing around. We landed on a falling tide some distance off the homestead, unable to reach the deep channel but very walkable in xtratuffs. We both loaded gear to the rocks and Jia Jia started carrying it up while I anchored the boat and grabbed the last of the items. I showed her some of the opening tasks and then we (I) collapsed on the couch and had snacks and cervesas, adequately cold from the very chilled lodge. We chatted and caught up and enjoyed the sunny view as the tide finished falling and began rising again. Before we lost it, we went for a walk up to the grassy point, noticing the many white poop streaks on the round rocks just upriver that spoke of a gull (?) gathering, and many gull prints on the flats. We also encountered five semi-palmated plovers making a wild racket as they postured and pattered across the mud. On the other side of a the point, a greater yellowlegs joined the chorus as it alarmed at us.

We returned through the grass and ate an early dinner of Jia Jia's fried rice. The lodge was so chilly and it was so early, I went ahead and lit a little fire to take the chill off which very quickly warmed the lodge. We drank gin and tonics, chatted, and played a game of "compatibility" in which we each chose a series of pictures/words from identical stacks of cards to represent a certain word (e.g., emptiness, innocence, long). Our varying interpretations were fascinating and hilarious. Before heading to our cabins before 10:00, we sat out on the porch overlooking a very serene river, fish rising to the surface all across the shoreline, presumably after bugs on the water, and a whale slapped its pectoral fins repeatedly out toward Gilbert Bay (there had been two working the inlet on and off all day).

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I had a magnificent night of sleep, delighted at 5:00 am to find that it was not yet late and that I could curl up in my perfect bed for a little longer. I got up around 7:00 and set about my main chore: weed whacking. As much as I loved the view the day before, it was marred by the overgrown path and "garden", the sedge shin-high and creeping buttercups blooming all around the firepit. But first I had to trim the wildly overgrown shrubs. What had been perfectly trimmed on my last trip had not only grown some, but had for some reason bent down to lean into the path both down to the river and along the side of the lower deck. I wound up trimming off three big mounds of salmonberries, currents, and a few devil's club just to walk the paths, and also clipped and removed all the wild celery I could find. While I was at it, I clipped the trails to the outhouses and the boardwalk which were badly overgrown.

Finally, the weedwhacking began, me suited up in flannel, boots, and gloves, and it went reasonably well. I did the rocky path and all around the lodge, discovering that the extension cord reached all the way to the outhouse without moving the generator, then broke for a rhubarb scone on the porch. I had raked and was carrying the last mounds of vegetation to the river when Jia Jia arrived at 10:30, also after a good night's sleep, and we had tea on the porch and it was wonderful.

After a lunch of quesadillas, I left Jia Jia reading on the porch and weedwhacked the boardwalk, the trail along Cottonwood Cabin, to the outhouse, and to the back of Hermit Thrush. I really don't enjoy this process, especially carrying the generator between sites, but the results are transformative and it is so pleasing to walk those clear, pretty trails. In the afternoon, we decided to go for a kayak and drug the double kayak Taan along the flats through the tiny channel and downriver. On the way we slowly pulled up to a group of four Pacific loons--two in breeding and two in non-breeding plumage--which let us get surprisingly close, periodically croaking at us. It was by far the best look I've ever had of Pacific loons. Out toward Gilbert Bay, a whale was very active and fluked directly in front of us before disappearing. We lingered out there for a while hoping he'd come back up, but eventually gave up and turned around River Point and into that same brisk northerly from the day before. We paddled into the seas, noticing that it picked up as we got more in line with the entrance to the port, getting a little water in the kayak, and reaching one point after another. It would have been nice to get to the grassy beach, but it was still some distance out and my sciatica (and legs generally) were aching, so I was happy enough to turn around. We did stop by the nice sandy beach at River Point and sat on the hot, dry sand enjoying the view for a while before finishing the ride home. Going with the wind and, at that point, the tide, we made much faster progress on the return trip. We celebrated with grapefruit G&Ts and had bison pasta I'd made in advance for dinner, then played a round of bananagrams which took the last of our mental energy. A two-player game is a challenge, for we have to use the entire set of tiles. When I found my board lacking much in the way of future options for new words, I scrapped most of it and started over. It took a long time to rebuilt with the letters I had, but I eventually made it and began grabbing new tiles. We forgot the rule where the other player has to take a tile when someone runs out, which would have made it easier.

We spent the rest of the evening reading on the porch--well, reading and whale watching! I heard an odd sort of splash in association with the inlet whale and saw the side of a tail sink under the water--lunge feeding? It was true. This whale repeatedly lunge fed, usually only taking the breath of his lunge before diving again, only occasionally pausing for a second breath, breaking the surface in a variety of moves. Most of the time he shut his mouth before breaking the surface and I usually saw only the stop of his snout, sometimes catching a glimpse of his lower jaw and, at least once, he did sort of a belly lunge and I saw his pleats breaking the surface, the rest of his head under water. He worked very actively, once even twisting and changing direction while fluking for a deep dive. When the show slowed, I read for a little bit before trundling away, exhausted from the exceptional sunny day.

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I had another near-perfect night of sleep. The cabin is dry, the temperature perfect, and my legs and shoulders not so painful that I couldn't sleep on my side as I worried. As I type this, my elbow is aching as it has been the last couple of weeks, and I'm sure the kayaking was a major cause. I checked the weather and determined that this was the day we needed to leave, but somewhat heartened because it would, by tide necessity (without moving the boat), be late in the day which didn't trouble me for the sunshine, the long June days, and the fact that I wouldn't have been to work at all tomorrow if I'd stayed as intended. I quickly breezed through a few tasks--raking the paths, fertilizing the garden, washing the dishes, filling two hummingbird feeders--realizing quickly that the water pressure was diminishing. As expected, the hose must be above water now as the creek level dropped. I was actually quite surprised it hadn't happened yet. I trekked up to the water source with clippers and hoe and work gloves, stopping first at Hermit Thrush to close up. I began by cutting the roots under the hose where it exits from below the log so I could excavate and lower it there, then moved the end of the hose to a different little waterfall area and dammed it a little. But I couldn't get water to go through, at least I didn't think I could. I kept adjusting things, excavating more, pumping the hose to pour water down in, and visiting the valve to feel for flowing water and closing it to see if it would back up. Nothing. It really seemed like water must be going down, and I even removed the screen filter on the end to watch it a few times, and the end was obviously above all over portions of the hose, but I never got any sign of it. I was finally worn out and abandoned the project, knowing that sometimes water does in fact flow without any of the usual signs. In any event, I needed breakfast before trying anything else.

Jia Jia was up and reading on the porch when I got back around 9:30, and I found water running. Great news! I think this placement may last the rest of the summer, and I'm thinking that a short length of hose that reaches the next pool might be a good addition in the future. I had some breakfast and we enjoyed tea/decaf coffee on the porch, impressed at the ferociousness of the breeze. When three green-winged teal flew in, I started an eBird survey and managed to capture most of the birds that we've seen and heard, which have been fairly sparse. One Wilson's warbler has song a couple of times a day (morning and evening) but isn't very active here. One hermit thrush, varied thrush, Townsend's warbler, Pacific wren, and golden-crowned kinglet have sung, along with a western flycatcher (more song than calls) and a second call today, a couple of jays, and a Lincoln's sparrow whose rare tinkling songs have graced the meadow each day, but rarely. Though the conditions were poor with wind and glare, I estimated at least 100 murrelets, 75 Bonaparte's gulls (half that many must be calling joyfully from the shoreline here at the moment), and 14 Pacific loons. Jia Jia and I were of one mind about just relaxing and enjoying the place today, so we're staying in and looking forward to a COASST walk at low tide. With the trails in good shape and the water system working, there really isn't a need, or time, to work on other projects, and I really just want to stare at my garden, chat with my niece, and enjoy the birds. And my elbow, which has flared up as I type, would appreciate a break too!

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Jia Jia and I left in the evening with a low tide departure, boarding the boat just as it began to float. I was a bit stressed out, not helped by the fact that I couldn't find my car keys, but managed to rally for what turned out to be a decent ride home. The Port was choppy on our departure and I was hugely relieved to find that the seas were originating from Stephen's Passage and not Speel Arm, and it followed us all the way home.

 
Jia Jia as we cross Taku Inlet