In just a few days we are leaving Homer to go back to Pennsylvania. Can hardly believe it. We have been having a fun time at dinners, parties, and other gatherings saying good-bye to friends------over and over. We're not sure when, but we are sure we'll return to Homer. Another fun thought is some of our friends here have promised to visit us in PA.
I have written a poem trying to encapsulate our time here, hitting the highlights. I read it in church today. I should say, I struggled to read it in church today. Emotions were high.
Being In Homer
Sun, mountains, bay, and trees,
Gorgeous sunsets, clouds, and breeze,
Sometimes rain and sometimes snow,
Out our window a lovely show.
Halibut, salmon, dollies, and cod,
We saw them all at the end of our rod;
Bouncing on waves or knee deep in streams,
How blessed we felt living our dreams.
Snow up cabin walls half way,
Lots of beauty, lots of play;
Up and down the hills careening,
Tipping over, snow machining.
Fish, whales, porpoises, birds,
Bears, moose, caribou herds;
Otters lazing, waves breaking;
Hundreds of photos we were taking.
The glaciers, the eagles, the beach, the peaks
Often left us unable to speak;
In the dark, an amazing display;
Moving lights took our breath away.
What excitement and colorful fun,
Dogs pulling sleds on the run;
Visiting Norman again and again,
Can't get enough of this talented man.
Pizza, and mail at Fritz Creek store,
Tiny houses, out houses, dirt roads galore;
Captain B, Two Sisters, dollars on walls,
Jeans, X-Tra Tuffs, and many dropped calls.
Dinners, girl time, taste of wine,
Sourdough pancakes, mighty fine;
On the Spit shopping and walking,
In Tangles Salon styling and talking.
Spiritual growth was happening here;
No duties, no time crunch, no demands, no fear;
A big part to play was Church on the Rock;
Aaron and Jonathan leading the flock.
Mali and Ed, Kathy and Kerry,
Karen and George, Lynne and Gary,
Aron and Janet, Therese and Becky,
Gail, Mei, Monica, Carolyn, Shelly,
Ruthie and Kevin, Paula and Jacque,
Linda and Allen, Jeanie and Vicki,
Some of the many in Homer we knew;
So many more; these but a few.
To say all are special sounds so lame;
Love and acceptance we found when we came
To Homer, a beautiful and unique place,
Filled with generosity, kindness, and grace.
Hard as it is, it's time to go home;
We'll drive and we'll drive but never alone,
For in our memory and in our heart,
It's not the end but merely the start.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Monday, August 6, 2012
All For The Love of Sourdough Pancakes
August sixth and hints of fall are encroaching. I learned that the term, termination dust, means the first fresh snow on the top of a mountain. This has already happened. The two weeks of summer we had at the end of July were great.
Nelson and I are starting to prepare our hearts, minds and possessions to leave this beautiful place; so we're busy scheduling------our last two hair appointments, my last doctor's appointments, the car maintenance necessary for such a long drive. This morning we got up early to take the car in for it's oil change, etc. I decided to go along because then we could eat breakfast at a favorite restaurant.
You see, sourdough is very popular here, and sourdough pancakes are sublime. I happen to love pancakes, but I don't make them. Even though I like to cook and bake and have some facility at it, I don't "do" pancakes. They're just not as good as when someone else does them---usually. Any excuse to have pancakes, especially sourdough, I'm on it. Hence, when we drove together to the auto shop, I had pancakes on my mind.
Being the sweet, considerate husband he is, Nelson dropped me off at a little restaurant while he delivered the car. This was not the restaurant of choice with the pancakes but only a place to wait. It was near the auto shop in the, shall we say, industrial, section of Homer. I had never been there. When I entered, I saw a decor I would define as, "old dive", just shy of, "broken down". There were no customers, only a sturdy, unhappy-looking woman leaning on the counter smoking a cigarette. The name of the place was a woman's name; so I asked if she were that person. She said yes, and we struck up a conversation. Turned out we were both Pittsburgh natives; so we had lots to talk about. She brightened and kept my coffee cup filled without prompting. Of course, I was unhappy about the smoke but had the distinct feeling that I should keep that complaint to myself. After all, I had not chosen to sit in the one non-smoking booth three feet from all the other booths.
What a hoot! The restaurant owner talked about Pittsburgh and Alaska in her raspy, smoky voice. We reminisced about the Pirates in their hey day and Roberto Clementi. While we talked, several wizened older men arrived and the coffee flowed. The owner had a T-shirt on that looked like acid had been spilled on it because it had about a dozen small holes across it. The saying on the shirt warned us that she was not someone to mess with. Political discussion was front and center and highly opinionated. No Kool Aid there! No implying, couching, finessing, hinting. I got the impression that if someone didn't like the expressed opinions, the door to leave was wide open.
Time to check on the car. We walked down the road together chuckling about what we had just experienced. The car was not ready; so we waited as I'm sure most of you have had to do at an auto shop only our wait was outside in the parking lot. My "chair" was the edge of a utility trailer. Soon Nelson's phone rang. The car was ready. We strolled the 30 yards to the shop to pay.
We drove straight away to the restaurant of choice. All of the above took an hour and a half. All of the above I experienced because I was hungry for sourdough pancakes. They were delicious.
Nelson and I are starting to prepare our hearts, minds and possessions to leave this beautiful place; so we're busy scheduling------our last two hair appointments, my last doctor's appointments, the car maintenance necessary for such a long drive. This morning we got up early to take the car in for it's oil change, etc. I decided to go along because then we could eat breakfast at a favorite restaurant.
You see, sourdough is very popular here, and sourdough pancakes are sublime. I happen to love pancakes, but I don't make them. Even though I like to cook and bake and have some facility at it, I don't "do" pancakes. They're just not as good as when someone else does them---usually. Any excuse to have pancakes, especially sourdough, I'm on it. Hence, when we drove together to the auto shop, I had pancakes on my mind.
Being the sweet, considerate husband he is, Nelson dropped me off at a little restaurant while he delivered the car. This was not the restaurant of choice with the pancakes but only a place to wait. It was near the auto shop in the, shall we say, industrial, section of Homer. I had never been there. When I entered, I saw a decor I would define as, "old dive", just shy of, "broken down". There were no customers, only a sturdy, unhappy-looking woman leaning on the counter smoking a cigarette. The name of the place was a woman's name; so I asked if she were that person. She said yes, and we struck up a conversation. Turned out we were both Pittsburgh natives; so we had lots to talk about. She brightened and kept my coffee cup filled without prompting. Of course, I was unhappy about the smoke but had the distinct feeling that I should keep that complaint to myself. After all, I had not chosen to sit in the one non-smoking booth three feet from all the other booths.
What a hoot! The restaurant owner talked about Pittsburgh and Alaska in her raspy, smoky voice. We reminisced about the Pirates in their hey day and Roberto Clementi. While we talked, several wizened older men arrived and the coffee flowed. The owner had a T-shirt on that looked like acid had been spilled on it because it had about a dozen small holes across it. The saying on the shirt warned us that she was not someone to mess with. Political discussion was front and center and highly opinionated. No Kool Aid there! No implying, couching, finessing, hinting. I got the impression that if someone didn't like the expressed opinions, the door to leave was wide open.
Time to check on the car. We walked down the road together chuckling about what we had just experienced. The car was not ready; so we waited as I'm sure most of you have had to do at an auto shop only our wait was outside in the parking lot. My "chair" was the edge of a utility trailer. Soon Nelson's phone rang. The car was ready. We strolled the 30 yards to the shop to pay.
We drove straight away to the restaurant of choice. All of the above took an hour and a half. All of the above I experienced because I was hungry for sourdough pancakes. They were delicious.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Fishing Frenzy----A Guest Writer Post
Nelson, my husband, loves to fish. He has enjoyed every minute of being in Alaska, and we have a freezer full of fish in PA and AK. Here is his story about his experience dip netting, a method of fishing for salmon that only AK residents of at least one year are allowed to use.
Fishing Frenzy
Summer is the fishing season in
Alaska and it tends to be intense. Of
course, I’ve been out fishing for halibut several times, which is always fun, and
have begun fly fishing on the local rivers.
But the big event this year is that I got to go “dip netting.” Okay, that term may be unfamiliar, so let’s
step back a bit. Dip netting is an ancient
practice, beginning with the native Alaskans who have lived here for over 10,000
years. A typical modern dip net consists
of a circular aluminum frame either 4 or 5 feet in diameter, with a gill net
attached that looks sort of like a huge sock full of holes. A 6-8 foot aluminum pole with a handle of some sort at the end is attached to the
circular net frame. Except for the net, the entire thing consists
of 1¼ inch aluminum pipe and weighs about 15 pounds. Dip netting permits are issued to Alaska
residents who have lived here for at least one full year, which now includes me.
Not surprisingly, the cost of
living in Alaska is much higher than in the lower 48 states. Groceries and fuel average about 25% above
what we are used to in PA. (One of our
favorite pastimes is to take visitors to the local grocery store and watch
their eyes bug out when they see the prices.
What fun!) However, there are some
compensations. For example, there is no
state income tax in AK, and residents receive a modest dividend each year from the
state’s oil extraction royalties. Imagine, the state government does not immediately SPEND all its money and more besides. Also, residents are allowed to harvest fish
by dip netting or other netting methods for their family’s use, which is called
subsistence fishing. Each head of
household is allowed to take 25 salmon by such methods, plus 10 more for each
additional family member. So, for
example, Sue and I are entitled to 35 salmon.
One of the well-known
characteristics of salmon is that they return to their river of birth to spawn
at the end of their life cycle. It may
be less well-known that the five salmon species do not return
haphazardly but in concentrations known as “runs,” which generally last for
several weeks each. One of the foremost
runs in Alaska is for the Sockeye salmon (a.k.a., red salmon). They return each
year in the last 3 weeks of July to the Kenai River, located about 80 miles
north of Homer. The fish do not
enter the river uniformly over that period.
The number of salmon is counted by a sophisticated sonar system located
19 miles upstream from the river’s mouth. This counting system not only gives an accurate
count, but can distinguish between species.
The run may begin with 2000-4000 salmon per day, but then it rapidly
builds… 10,000, 15,000, 25,000 per day… at which point it explodes suddenly…
100,000 to 200,000 on the peak day, followed by an immediate reduction to
50,000, and then 10,000-30,000 per day until the run ends. Fishermen by the thousands are intensely
interested in tracking the daily counts of fish online so they can head for
the mouth of the river where dip netting is allowed at the exact right
time. Entire families come by the hundreds
to net, clean, filet, and process their fish for the coming year.
So, now that you have the
background, here’s my own story. It’s
Sunday morning and we’re sitting in church participating in a wonderful time of
worship. Suddenly, the cell phone of our
friend, George, goes off. George is in
his 70's and has his phone’s ring volume set very high. It’s his young friend, Matt, who has called
to say that the big run of “reds” is underway at the Kenai River, and he needs
another guy to help man his 24-ft boat for the dip netting frenzy. You see, one man needs to drive the boat,
while two others operate their dip nets from either side. Matt has a wife and five boys at home; so
he’s entitled to dip net for 85 salmon.
He runs his own excavation business through much of the year, but like
many men in Alaska, he’s often under-employed during the winter months and
depends on this source of food to help feed his family. So, here’s George excitedly talking on the
phone with Matt in the middle of worship while his dismayed wife is
hitting him smartly in the ribs with her elbow.
George says he’s not able to go but maybe Nelson would be able to
go in the afternoon after worship.
I’m skeptical it can work out for me, but Sue – now a true Alaskan gal –
says, “Go, go!” Later, I found our
pastor and several others from our church netting up on the Kenai River
too. It’s a wonder the whole church
didn’t empty out right in the middle of worship.
By mid-afternoon, we were on
the Kenai River taking turns steering the boat, while the other two men
operated the dip nets. The method
involves driving the boat slowly down the quarter-mile-wide river close to the
banks where the fish tend to concentrate. The nets are held under the water
perpendicular to the flow so that a salmon rushing upstream might swim
directly into the net. They generally
cannot see the net well because the water near the mouth of the river has a lot
of plankton, making it rather murky. When
a salmon slams into the net, the fisherman has to twist the net quickly to the
horizontal position, lift the mouth above the water, and swing both net and
salmon on board the boat before the fish can escape. This can be tougher than it sounds. It takes strength and agility. Since these
salmon weigh 6-10 pounds, a very large torque at the end of the long pole is created, and then there's the weight of the circular aluminum mouth of the net. Once the fish is removed, the net is shoved
back over the boat’s gunwale (side) and under the water again while the boat
continues downstream. A marker indicates the limit where dip netting is
allowed. At the marker the boat is steered
back upstream for about half a mile, following the middle of the river. Then it’s swung back to the bank for another pass down the river. During the return upstream, fish captured on
the last pass are gathered up and stored in large coolers. An average trip down the river may yield 2-3
salmon, but when the big schools arrive it can get crazy. As many as 10-15
fish can be landed in 15 minutes.
Here’s what it’s like on a
typical pass downstream. I was using
Matt’s big 5-ft diameter net, which has an extra long pole, while Matt drove
the boat. He’s a big, very strong guy,
while I’m a skinny, 65-year-old who has never done this before. So, you can see where this is headed. There I’d be, standing at the boat’s gunwale,
holding the net several feet under the water, when WHAM a 10-lb salmon hits
the net. Rotate!! Lift!! Wrestle the net and fish into the boat, which
by now is very wet and has several salmon already sliding back and forth in its
bottom. This puts me off balance and I
slip on the wet bottom, falling backwards with the net’s mouth above me. The salmon is badly tangled in the net by
this time and is thrashing around madly, while I’m desperately trying to grab
it and untangle it from the net.
Meanwhile, the fellow on the other side of the boat has also nabbed a
salmon and this madness is being repeated alongside me. At this point I’m down and the fish is up. I think the fish is winning! Matt, at the boat’s wheel, is laughing
uproariously like his sides will split.
I’m laughing hilariously, too, because of the shear ridiculousness of
the sight.
We fished until 11:00pm----7 hours through
the long summer evening.
This period later proved to be the exact peak of the salmon run. Over
194,000 fish were counted that day by the upstream sonar. Altogether, we took 150 fish, each of us
reaching his full quota. At an average
of over 7 lbs apiece, that’s 1000 lbs of salmon, a microscopic dent in the
700,000–1,000,000 fish successfully passing upstream each year. It would have been well worth the trip just
to see the look on Matt’s face during the middle of the evening when as many
as 2 or 3 fish were being netted at once each time a net was lowered over the
side. He was like a great big kid with
a wide grin, eyes gleaming brightly, and happy laughter. After returning to the dock, we divided the
fish. Alaska is
probably one of the few places in the world where this fishing method is still used. What an experience!
The grandkids holding a dip net
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Family Visit
Summer arrived, at last. It happened during the last two weeks of July. It was touch and go there for quite awhile, but finally, we could declare, summer arrived. The lupine bloomed for an extra long time because of the colder than normal temps, but finally the fire weed bloomed. The sun appeared day after day, the temperature rose to the high 60's----maybe even low 70's a couple of days, and people's spirits soared.
Happily, summer got here just as my daughter and her family did. We enjoyed every minute of the visit and were very busy showing them all the things/places we've grown to love here. We toured Homer and shopped on the Spit. We visited the Lowell Gallery. The kids really enjoyed a particularly creative and extensive new playground that opened recently. We went to Seward for a couple days. We visited the Sea Life Center, cruised on the Bay of Alaska, visited Exit Glacier, and experienced dog sledding sans snow. Some of the family went fishing numerous times and for the most part, were successful.
In the wild we saw moose, otters, whales, porpoises, seals, sea lions, cranes, eagles, puffins and more. In fact, we even saw a yow! How many people can say that? The kids and I were on the beach one day and along came two women, one with a huge, white, long-haired, long-horned animal. It had a saddle on its back and was being led on a leash! Of course we had to inquire about it and were told it was a yow, which is a cross between a cow and a yak. Who knew? They also had two small goats on a leash. What a sight! It was like something out of Dr. Seuss. I guess everyone and everything likes the beach.
One of the sweetest days we had though was a boat trip into many of the coves and fjords across the bay. Our dear friends borrowed a boat and motored us around for hours in and out of half dozen inlets so we could see "the real Alaska". What a treat. We saw scenery that was simply breathtaking. The mountains, the glaciers, the snow fields, the water, the rock formations, the sea life----all of it just amazing. Around every corner the view was more gorgeous than the last. And since the captain of the boat has lived here so long and spent most of his life on the water, he could narrate the tour for us with skill and personal knowledge. It was awesome. We all loved it.
I think our family now understands that though the scenery here is magnificent and seeing the animals is exciting, it's the people who really make this place so special. We have made a remarkable number of friends in the relatively short time we've been here. People are so open, accepting, and generous. They are not judgemental. I feel spoiled and pampered but most of all, grateful. The people we know here have warmly taken us into their hearts and shared their lives with us. We have repeatedly been offered the loan of things we might need and even places to stay when we return. We have been in homes time after time for meals and gatherings. They have answered endless questions and been willing to share their life's stories. They have taken us places and taught us things. They have shared their time.
Our family has left. It was hard to see them go not only because we will miss them, but also because their leaving was a time-marker. They had been planning this trip for several years once they knew we were coming here. We were so eager for them to come and yet, their visit means we have only a very short time to remain here. We look forward to returning home and catching up with folks. Our house there will be demanding much of our attention for some time, I'm sure. But I'm also sure we'll be coming back here. We have two homes now.
China Poot Bay off Katchemak Bay
The harbor at Seward
The fam in front of Exit Glacier near Seward
Otters--Gulf of Alaska
Humpback whale in the Gulf of Alaska
Yow and goats on the Homer Spit
Beauty on the Katchemak
Happily, summer got here just as my daughter and her family did. We enjoyed every minute of the visit and were very busy showing them all the things/places we've grown to love here. We toured Homer and shopped on the Spit. We visited the Lowell Gallery. The kids really enjoyed a particularly creative and extensive new playground that opened recently. We went to Seward for a couple days. We visited the Sea Life Center, cruised on the Bay of Alaska, visited Exit Glacier, and experienced dog sledding sans snow. Some of the family went fishing numerous times and for the most part, were successful.
In the wild we saw moose, otters, whales, porpoises, seals, sea lions, cranes, eagles, puffins and more. In fact, we even saw a yow! How many people can say that? The kids and I were on the beach one day and along came two women, one with a huge, white, long-haired, long-horned animal. It had a saddle on its back and was being led on a leash! Of course we had to inquire about it and were told it was a yow, which is a cross between a cow and a yak. Who knew? They also had two small goats on a leash. What a sight! It was like something out of Dr. Seuss. I guess everyone and everything likes the beach.
One of the sweetest days we had though was a boat trip into many of the coves and fjords across the bay. Our dear friends borrowed a boat and motored us around for hours in and out of half dozen inlets so we could see "the real Alaska". What a treat. We saw scenery that was simply breathtaking. The mountains, the glaciers, the snow fields, the water, the rock formations, the sea life----all of it just amazing. Around every corner the view was more gorgeous than the last. And since the captain of the boat has lived here so long and spent most of his life on the water, he could narrate the tour for us with skill and personal knowledge. It was awesome. We all loved it.
I think our family now understands that though the scenery here is magnificent and seeing the animals is exciting, it's the people who really make this place so special. We have made a remarkable number of friends in the relatively short time we've been here. People are so open, accepting, and generous. They are not judgemental. I feel spoiled and pampered but most of all, grateful. The people we know here have warmly taken us into their hearts and shared their lives with us. We have repeatedly been offered the loan of things we might need and even places to stay when we return. We have been in homes time after time for meals and gatherings. They have answered endless questions and been willing to share their life's stories. They have taken us places and taught us things. They have shared their time.
Our family has left. It was hard to see them go not only because we will miss them, but also because their leaving was a time-marker. They had been planning this trip for several years once they knew we were coming here. We were so eager for them to come and yet, their visit means we have only a very short time to remain here. We look forward to returning home and catching up with folks. Our house there will be demanding much of our attention for some time, I'm sure. But I'm also sure we'll be coming back here. We have two homes now.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Summer At The Fifty-Nineth Parallel
Summer is here, I guess. It gets light at ........well, come to think of it, it never really gets totally dark. The sun rises now before 5AM and sets about 11:30PM. We need no lamps lit in the cabin until midnight. The stores and restaurants that closed for winter in Homer are open again. Cruise ships have arrived. Tents and RV's have sprouted on the beach like colorful mushrooms. The Spit is crowded and busy. Boats are coming out of dry dock. The fishermen are doing their thing. Nelson has been fishing numerous times with great success on the Bay catching halibut but not so much success on the rivers trying to get king salmon.
There have been abundant bear sitings reported, but none by us. On the other hand, we see cranes everyday. They have matched up and presumably laid their eggs by now. So funny to watch, they step through the yard like they're tip toeing, afraid of putting their feet in the wrong place. When they come in for a landing their great wings are open wide. They tilt this way and that to position themselves just right. Their long, thread thin legs, normally tucked against their bodies while in flight, are hanging down. They float down out of the sky like they're using a parachute, landing with a great harumph.
The moose are dropping calves here, there and everywhere, including downtown. Apparently, a mama birthed twins by the side of a downtown street snarling traffic recently. We had a calf born at the edge of our yard a week ago. The calf was up and walking about like a drunken partier within seconds. Recently I saw a mama moose crossing the street with her calf in tow. The calf looked all of a minute and a half old. The mama went across in a very no nonsense way, not waiting at all for the calf. The calf, however, was not so sure about this adventure as cars backed up, waiting. The calf wobbled part way onto the road, hesitated, retreated, then started out again. Mom came part way back to offer encouragement then proceeded back to the far side, down into and back out of a ditch and on into the brush. The calf took courage and followed her as fast as it could. When it got to the ditch, it fell in. All I could see was the water splashing, but soon the smart little thing found his feet and a way out of the ditch by walking inside it to the end where it was easier to get out. They have to learn fast. Apparently a mama moose does not baby her babies. She will defend them though. People have to be very careful when near a mama moose.
Certainly one can't determine the presence of summer by the temperatures. Two days ago it was 30 degrees when I got up at 6:00. There was frost on the grass and car, and the plant I had set out was very unhappy. Our daily temperatures have been in the high 40's to somewhere in the 50's with a burst of 60 one day! A local friend told me when she used to go fishing at this time of year there would be ice in the eye holes of her rod. Regardless of the chill the plants have greened completely.
Neither can you determine the season by what people wear here. Tank tops, shorts, sandals, flip flops are on many brave bodies, but jeans and long sleeves prevail. Of course even in winter here, one can see an occasional rebellious soul wearing flip flops or shorts. I have learned not to gape and shake my head. But honestly if you want to wear shorts and tank tops, you just have to do it at your own chosen time because you'll never have to wear them as a solution to the heat.
Oh yes, one more sign of summer. The farmers' market opened Memorial Day weekend and will be open on Wednesday afternoons and Saturdays until Oct. At this market you will find all the fresh produce produced here-------radishes, carrots, rhubarb, beets, rhubarb, blueberries, and rhubarb. The beets are the size of ping pong balls and decidedly not sweet. The rhubarb is good though! And the carrots and blueberries are very good. It's a small market.
I flipped the calendar to June; so I know summer is here. With that flip of the calendar comes our one year anniversary living here. Hard to believe. It's been an exciting, fun, blessed, interesting, educational year. We have loved every minute. But flipping the calendar to June also means there's only six more weeks until some of our family comes for a long-awaited visit. The pull of home and family is irresistible. Nelson and I talk daily about all the things we want to show them while they're here. Have you ever noticed that when you love something so much, you want those you love to love the same thing? Can't wait. It's finally summer!
There have been abundant bear sitings reported, but none by us. On the other hand, we see cranes everyday. They have matched up and presumably laid their eggs by now. So funny to watch, they step through the yard like they're tip toeing, afraid of putting their feet in the wrong place. When they come in for a landing their great wings are open wide. They tilt this way and that to position themselves just right. Their long, thread thin legs, normally tucked against their bodies while in flight, are hanging down. They float down out of the sky like they're using a parachute, landing with a great harumph.
The moose are dropping calves here, there and everywhere, including downtown. Apparently, a mama birthed twins by the side of a downtown street snarling traffic recently. We had a calf born at the edge of our yard a week ago. The calf was up and walking about like a drunken partier within seconds. Recently I saw a mama moose crossing the street with her calf in tow. The calf looked all of a minute and a half old. The mama went across in a very no nonsense way, not waiting at all for the calf. The calf, however, was not so sure about this adventure as cars backed up, waiting. The calf wobbled part way onto the road, hesitated, retreated, then started out again. Mom came part way back to offer encouragement then proceeded back to the far side, down into and back out of a ditch and on into the brush. The calf took courage and followed her as fast as it could. When it got to the ditch, it fell in. All I could see was the water splashing, but soon the smart little thing found his feet and a way out of the ditch by walking inside it to the end where it was easier to get out. They have to learn fast. Apparently a mama moose does not baby her babies. She will defend them though. People have to be very careful when near a mama moose.
Certainly one can't determine the presence of summer by the temperatures. Two days ago it was 30 degrees when I got up at 6:00. There was frost on the grass and car, and the plant I had set out was very unhappy. Our daily temperatures have been in the high 40's to somewhere in the 50's with a burst of 60 one day! A local friend told me when she used to go fishing at this time of year there would be ice in the eye holes of her rod. Regardless of the chill the plants have greened completely.
Neither can you determine the season by what people wear here. Tank tops, shorts, sandals, flip flops are on many brave bodies, but jeans and long sleeves prevail. Of course even in winter here, one can see an occasional rebellious soul wearing flip flops or shorts. I have learned not to gape and shake my head. But honestly if you want to wear shorts and tank tops, you just have to do it at your own chosen time because you'll never have to wear them as a solution to the heat.
Oh yes, one more sign of summer. The farmers' market opened Memorial Day weekend and will be open on Wednesday afternoons and Saturdays until Oct. At this market you will find all the fresh produce produced here-------radishes, carrots, rhubarb, beets, rhubarb, blueberries, and rhubarb. The beets are the size of ping pong balls and decidedly not sweet. The rhubarb is good though! And the carrots and blueberries are very good. It's a small market.
I flipped the calendar to June; so I know summer is here. With that flip of the calendar comes our one year anniversary living here. Hard to believe. It's been an exciting, fun, blessed, interesting, educational year. We have loved every minute. But flipping the calendar to June also means there's only six more weeks until some of our family comes for a long-awaited visit. The pull of home and family is irresistible. Nelson and I talk daily about all the things we want to show them while they're here. Have you ever noticed that when you love something so much, you want those you love to love the same thing? Can't wait. It's finally summer!
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
The Homer Mystique
I heard an amazing story recently from a new acquaintance. It seems her husband needed to change careers for a variety of reasons. They lived in the mid west. They decided that since he was looking for a new career, the family may as well change where they lived as well. Never having been to Alaska, they made a big, bold decision to come here to the Kenai Peninsula. They sold everything, landed in Anchorage and started driving south. They had no job. Their plan was to drive all the way to Homer, the end of the road, just to scope out the Kenai and then head back north looking for the town they thought would be a good place to live. They got to Homer and never left. That was three years ago!
That's how this place is. It sucks you in, blesses you mightily, and won't let you go! At least that's how many of we newcomers feel. If I've heard one person say we won't be able to leave, I've heard dozens.
There is so much NOT to like here. The winters are long and dark, the summers very short. The spring is messy, muddy, cold. It's very expensive to live here. It's a long way to/from anywhere. Beyond objects of art and souvenirs, there is no shopping available. Traditional entertainment is extremely limited. The place is overrun with tourists in July. Gardening is next to impossible. Animals eat your grass and any semblance of a garden you might struggle to eke out. Your car is never clean longer than two blocks away from the car wash. In some places the water is horrible. You cannot swim in the ocean. You must guard your small pets from many predators. Often you can't get from here to there in a car without driving hundreds of miles out of your way. Heck, sometimes you can't even get from here to there by car at all because there's literally no road! You get my drift here. This list is not exhaustive.
So what's up with the draw this place has? What is the Homer mystique? I've been thinking a lot about that. Of course there's the obvious. The scenery is beyond gorgeous. Sometimes the air is so clear you can see a hundred miles distant. Auroras are visible from September to April. The fishing is incomparable, both salt water and fresh. The extended light from March to September is amazing. (at this point we have sunrise at 6:00 and sunset at 10:00 with very long predawn and post sunset light). Seeing the birds and animals in your yard is very exciting. The opportunities to ski, sled, snow shoe, hike, kayak, wind surf, snow machine, four wheel, hunt, boat, bird watch are abundant. It is a nature photographer's paradise. Great visual art of all kinds is readily available.
Then there are the people, and here's where I tear up. When Nelson and I were planning this adventure we determined that one of our goals was to get to know the people here. It wasn't hard. They are generous, warm, open, and friendly. If you have a need, they are there in a heart beat. If they can't meet your need, they'll find someone who can. They still have people in for dinner----frequently. This habit has greatly diminished on the east coast, in my opinion, but is so ideal for promoting relationships. They look forward to sharing their toys with you---snow machines, boats, four wheelers, etc. They have skills that are unmatched and share them freely. You need a plumber, no sweat. You need a backhoe, easy.
Because services are so hard to get, people here are very self-sufficient, and they look out for each other.
For the most part, the residents here major on the majors. How refreshing! The houses are humble and so are the people. The weather and terrain, it seems, are equalizers because both are so extreme and unalterable. No matter the social status or income, everyone wears jeans all the time. Everyone has to wear X-traTuffs much of the time. Everyone drives a dirty car and struggles with keeping their house clean. Everyone has a limited selection of overpriced food. Life is basic here, and that's very exciting.
If you want to live in a place where you're accepted/welcomed unconditionally regardless of circumstances, income, housing, status or any other worldly entrapment, come to Homer.
That's how this place is. It sucks you in, blesses you mightily, and won't let you go! At least that's how many of we newcomers feel. If I've heard one person say we won't be able to leave, I've heard dozens.
There is so much NOT to like here. The winters are long and dark, the summers very short. The spring is messy, muddy, cold. It's very expensive to live here. It's a long way to/from anywhere. Beyond objects of art and souvenirs, there is no shopping available. Traditional entertainment is extremely limited. The place is overrun with tourists in July. Gardening is next to impossible. Animals eat your grass and any semblance of a garden you might struggle to eke out. Your car is never clean longer than two blocks away from the car wash. In some places the water is horrible. You cannot swim in the ocean. You must guard your small pets from many predators. Often you can't get from here to there in a car without driving hundreds of miles out of your way. Heck, sometimes you can't even get from here to there by car at all because there's literally no road! You get my drift here. This list is not exhaustive.
So what's up with the draw this place has? What is the Homer mystique? I've been thinking a lot about that. Of course there's the obvious. The scenery is beyond gorgeous. Sometimes the air is so clear you can see a hundred miles distant. Auroras are visible from September to April. The fishing is incomparable, both salt water and fresh. The extended light from March to September is amazing. (at this point we have sunrise at 6:00 and sunset at 10:00 with very long predawn and post sunset light). Seeing the birds and animals in your yard is very exciting. The opportunities to ski, sled, snow shoe, hike, kayak, wind surf, snow machine, four wheel, hunt, boat, bird watch are abundant. It is a nature photographer's paradise. Great visual art of all kinds is readily available.
Then there are the people, and here's where I tear up. When Nelson and I were planning this adventure we determined that one of our goals was to get to know the people here. It wasn't hard. They are generous, warm, open, and friendly. If you have a need, they are there in a heart beat. If they can't meet your need, they'll find someone who can. They still have people in for dinner----frequently. This habit has greatly diminished on the east coast, in my opinion, but is so ideal for promoting relationships. They look forward to sharing their toys with you---snow machines, boats, four wheelers, etc. They have skills that are unmatched and share them freely. You need a plumber, no sweat. You need a backhoe, easy.
Because services are so hard to get, people here are very self-sufficient, and they look out for each other.
For the most part, the residents here major on the majors. How refreshing! The houses are humble and so are the people. The weather and terrain, it seems, are equalizers because both are so extreme and unalterable. No matter the social status or income, everyone wears jeans all the time. Everyone has to wear X-traTuffs much of the time. Everyone drives a dirty car and struggles with keeping their house clean. Everyone has a limited selection of overpriced food. Life is basic here, and that's very exciting.
If you want to live in a place where you're accepted/welcomed unconditionally regardless of circumstances, income, housing, status or any other worldly entrapment, come to Homer.
Monday, April 2, 2012
Marching Forward
During March the amount of sunlight here in Homer, Alaska increased by three hours. You read that right, Folks----three (3) hours of sunlight gained in only one month! And there's still about ten weeks left before the solstice in mid June, the longest day of the year.
Never mind that there's still a foot of snow on the ground in our yard, or that the night time temperatures are still below freezing, or that the daytime temps are still straining to reach the high 40's. It is sunny from 7:30 AM to 9:00PM, and whoa doggies, that snow is melting. It is a mud bath out there on the road ways. Driving anywhere results in your car looking like a rolling cave with mud stalactites adhered to all vertical surfaces. A new level of head light intensity has appeared. Now there's high beams, low beams, and barely perceptible beams because of a thick coating of slime. Getting in or out of the car is an exercise in agility trying to avoid touching any surfaces. The other day I could have sworn I saw something sprouting on the car floor, potatoes perhaps.
I'm getting the point of wearing X-traTuffs-----all the time. You say, "But I'm going to church". No matter. The seniors, the young people, the toddlers, even the preachers and choir members all have on their X-traTuffs. Heck, it's only the beginning of April. We're still wearing corduroys and flannel. Next week is Easter. I may wear the one skirt I brought with me. It will be the first time I've worn it since we got here. That is, if I wear it.
With the big melt has come rivers, streams, ponds and canals galore on all paved roads. It's almost necessary to take a water safety course just to drive into town. The sun is brightly shining, but the wind shield wipers are going full tilt because of all the splashing. Amazingly, road crews are even now in the wet and cold trying to at least temporarily patch some of the holes. These crews are very busy. Last week I thought I saw a Volkswagen floating toward Kachemak City being guided with a rudder! And the first time we hit one big dip/canal half way to town, we put our arms up and screamed thinking we were in the front seats of a roller coaster. We most likely will need new shock absorbers soon.
Do we still love it here? You bettcha! It's special, unique, fun, amazing, captivating, beautiful, ...............
I am most definitely not complaining. Just telling it like it is.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Ice Cream, Coffee, and Dogs
There are three things that Alaskans love---ice cream, coffee, and dogs. Not necessarily in that order. Desserts don't seem to be that big here, but there's always ice cream. Shops selling everything from hardware to art work also sell ice cream. One shop nearby boasts 54 flavors available, outdoing Baskin Robbins.
Coffee shops are even more abundant. A coffee table book could easily be published featuring all the crazy little coffee shops. The operative word here is "little". These shops are about the size of your living room couch, decorated to the max, sporting a catchy name. Of course there's a drive-up window because the inside barely has room for the barista. On every corner of every town, crossroads, and snow machine path is one of these happy little places advertising espresso and the fact that they are open.
If you prefer to sit down inside to drink your coffee, there is no shortage of coffee offered in 90% of the other stores scattered around. Mismatched tables and chairs dot the shabby interiors. Unpainted walls are festooned with local art work. Shaky shelving displays whatever else is being sold there-----souvenirs, books, clothing, sporting goods. It doesn't matter because there's always coffee. My theory is that because of the long winter and lots of dark, Alaskans have a basic need for all coffee all the time.
And then there are the dogs. Alaska is dog central. It was weeks after we moved here before we saw our first cat. I have never, ever seen as many dogs as there are here. One would think there's a law stating that every citizen is required to own at least one, preferably two or three dogs, and the dogs must go everywhere with the owner. Rare is the truck or car in a parking lot with no dog in it. When you invite friends to your home, be prepared that their dog(s) will be with them.
Once in a while a small dog will be seen, but nine chances out of ten, the accompanying dog is 40 pounds or more. There's a reason for this. Eagles need to eat. Stories abound of little "Fluffys" being snatched up in eagle talons right from the sidewalk where they were strolling happily with their owners. Leash dangling in the air, and the owner shrieking and jumping after it, poor little Fluffy soon learns whether or not dogs really do go to heaven.
We did not bring our dog, Tuhlula, with us. She hates cold. Beyond that, we decided she'd be bear bait.
She's a lab-boxer mix weighing 60 pounds so is beyond eagle bait. The problem is she thinks that being called is a suggestion rather than a command. That attitude is potentially lethal here. We have acquired a "loaner" dog, Nuka, who shows up at our cabin every few days for a tummy rub and a treat. She's a sweetheart, but we're reminded every time we see a dog how much we really miss Tuhlula.
Alaskan dogs ready to
run the Iditarod.
Tuhlula, wondering where
we are. (That's my caption,
and I'm sticking with it)
Coffee shops are even more abundant. A coffee table book could easily be published featuring all the crazy little coffee shops. The operative word here is "little". These shops are about the size of your living room couch, decorated to the max, sporting a catchy name. Of course there's a drive-up window because the inside barely has room for the barista. On every corner of every town, crossroads, and snow machine path is one of these happy little places advertising espresso and the fact that they are open.
If you prefer to sit down inside to drink your coffee, there is no shortage of coffee offered in 90% of the other stores scattered around. Mismatched tables and chairs dot the shabby interiors. Unpainted walls are festooned with local art work. Shaky shelving displays whatever else is being sold there-----souvenirs, books, clothing, sporting goods. It doesn't matter because there's always coffee. My theory is that because of the long winter and lots of dark, Alaskans have a basic need for all coffee all the time.
And then there are the dogs. Alaska is dog central. It was weeks after we moved here before we saw our first cat. I have never, ever seen as many dogs as there are here. One would think there's a law stating that every citizen is required to own at least one, preferably two or three dogs, and the dogs must go everywhere with the owner. Rare is the truck or car in a parking lot with no dog in it. When you invite friends to your home, be prepared that their dog(s) will be with them.
Once in a while a small dog will be seen, but nine chances out of ten, the accompanying dog is 40 pounds or more. There's a reason for this. Eagles need to eat. Stories abound of little "Fluffys" being snatched up in eagle talons right from the sidewalk where they were strolling happily with their owners. Leash dangling in the air, and the owner shrieking and jumping after it, poor little Fluffy soon learns whether or not dogs really do go to heaven.
We did not bring our dog, Tuhlula, with us. She hates cold. Beyond that, we decided she'd be bear bait.
She's a lab-boxer mix weighing 60 pounds so is beyond eagle bait. The problem is she thinks that being called is a suggestion rather than a command. That attitude is potentially lethal here. We have acquired a "loaner" dog, Nuka, who shows up at our cabin every few days for a tummy rub and a treat. She's a sweetheart, but we're reminded every time we see a dog how much we really miss Tuhlula.
Alaskan dogs ready to
run the Iditarod.
Tuhlula, wondering where
we are. (That's my caption,
and I'm sticking with it)
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Test Questions
1. Who traveled 100 miles or more to get here?
2. Who has traveled from the other side of the Bay to get here? (that would be by boat in sub-zero weather)
3. Who went mountain climbing on their honey moon?
4. Who wears X-tra Tuffs at least 50% of the time? (remember the boots I told you about a couple months ago?)
5. Who has shot a bear?
6. Who has driven more than 50 miles on a snow machine?
7. Who has eaten seal; who has eaten whale?
8. Who has field-dressed a moose?
9. Who is a musher? (dog sled driver)
10. Who has road kill in their freezer? (In AK when a moose is killed by a vehicle the vehicle is far more damaged than the moose but the moose is put down and then given to a citizen whose name is on a registration list. That person has to get the carcass immediately, no matter what time day or night, and take care of dressing, carving, freezing.
11. Who has a car with no rust? (There is no inspection of cars or required auto insurance in AK.)
12. Who has cut your own hole for ice fishing?
13. Who has used an Uzi? (Say, what??)
14. Who has lived in a house with no water? (This is VERY common here!)
15. Who is packing heat? (Really?)
After listening to these questions and observing the responses, I realized I'm still a cheechako, not even waving at sourdough yet. I stayed seated for all but one question. I'll let you guess which one prompted me to stand. Here's a hint-----thank you, Toyota.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Winter Solstice
Today's high temperature in Fairbanks is predicted to be minus 35! That's right, folks, 35 degrees below zero. And that's not the lowest "high" today in Alaska. Thankfully, it's a balmy 3 degrees in Homer right now at 9:45AM. It's about 1/2 hour before sunrise. We are about two weeks on the positive side of the solstice, gaining light---more than two minutes a day. The changes here are rapid. By March the amount of light will increase to 6-7 minutes a day.
We visited Fairbanks two weeks ago for the solstice. The good news is that while we were there the temperatures soared to between five and ten degrees above zero---a winter heat wave for that town. The bad news is that the temperatures were relatively warm which meant it snowed a lot, which meant it was cloudy, which meant we did not get to see an aurora.
So how do people cope with temperatures that defy the reason and imagination of most of the rest of the world? Well, there is school-----no matter what. Now think about this. When those kids are waiting for the bus or walking, it is pitch black outside and far, far below a comfortable temperature for humans. Usually it is not windy or snowing, but there would most likely be snow on the ground. The air is very dry and the snow flakes are tiny crystals---noticeably different from the quality of snow farther south. As the traffic goes by, snow clouds waft up all around so that visibility is poor. Every inch of skin needs to be covered. The kids walking to school look like well-padded zombies with only their eyes showing. If they fell down, one has to wonder if they would be able to get back up. They go to school in the dark and get home in the dark.
A unique feature of all motels and many stores and homes is a port stationed outside to plug in your car. This is to prevent your battery from dying because of the cold. It's just standard operating procedure to plug in your car like may happen if electric cars become the norm in the future. The people in central Alaska are already well trained in this concept.
At noon the sun is only about one degree above the horizon. It rises about 11AM and sets about 2:30PM. This messes with the mind of a visitor. It's impossible to estimate the time. It's forever sunrise or sunset in your mind. It feels like you should be eating breakfast at every meal. If you want to see anything outside, there's a very short window to do so. Sleeping longer is easy.
Yet the people of Fairbanks and other interior villages in Alaska don't just survive. They thrive. Every little village has a museum. We went to two that were excellent. The University of Alaska has a particularly interesting one where you can see everything from mummified mammoths to gold nuggets. Alaskans love art, coffee and believe it or not, ice cream. There are opportunities for all of these on every block. In the winter the art includes amazing ice sculptures in front of many public buildings. There's even an "Ice Museum" in Fairbanks. But it's only open in the summer. Of course!
1. Getting to Anchorage so we could fly to Fairbanks.
2. Noon in Fairbanks
3. 4:00PM, Fairbanks
4. University of Alaska, Fairbanks museum
5. Ice museum
We visited Fairbanks two weeks ago for the solstice. The good news is that while we were there the temperatures soared to between five and ten degrees above zero---a winter heat wave for that town. The bad news is that the temperatures were relatively warm which meant it snowed a lot, which meant it was cloudy, which meant we did not get to see an aurora.
So how do people cope with temperatures that defy the reason and imagination of most of the rest of the world? Well, there is school-----no matter what. Now think about this. When those kids are waiting for the bus or walking, it is pitch black outside and far, far below a comfortable temperature for humans. Usually it is not windy or snowing, but there would most likely be snow on the ground. The air is very dry and the snow flakes are tiny crystals---noticeably different from the quality of snow farther south. As the traffic goes by, snow clouds waft up all around so that visibility is poor. Every inch of skin needs to be covered. The kids walking to school look like well-padded zombies with only their eyes showing. If they fell down, one has to wonder if they would be able to get back up. They go to school in the dark and get home in the dark.
A unique feature of all motels and many stores and homes is a port stationed outside to plug in your car. This is to prevent your battery from dying because of the cold. It's just standard operating procedure to plug in your car like may happen if electric cars become the norm in the future. The people in central Alaska are already well trained in this concept.
At noon the sun is only about one degree above the horizon. It rises about 11AM and sets about 2:30PM. This messes with the mind of a visitor. It's impossible to estimate the time. It's forever sunrise or sunset in your mind. It feels like you should be eating breakfast at every meal. If you want to see anything outside, there's a very short window to do so. Sleeping longer is easy.
Yet the people of Fairbanks and other interior villages in Alaska don't just survive. They thrive. Every little village has a museum. We went to two that were excellent. The University of Alaska has a particularly interesting one where you can see everything from mummified mammoths to gold nuggets. Alaskans love art, coffee and believe it or not, ice cream. There are opportunities for all of these on every block. In the winter the art includes amazing ice sculptures in front of many public buildings. There's even an "Ice Museum" in Fairbanks. But it's only open in the summer. Of course!
1. Getting to Anchorage so we could fly to Fairbanks.
2. Noon in Fairbanks
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