Cheechako or Sourdough

Recently while traveling to Anchorage and back on an absolutely idyllic weekend, Nelson and I were comparing cheechakos with sourdoughs.  These terms are somewhat unique to Alaska.  A cheechako is someone new to Alaska, a greenhorn, a tenderfoot.  A sourdough is someone who's been here for a long time.  We have friends in both categories, but we, of course, are cheechakos.  It's usually easy to tell the difference.  Following is a list of tell-tale signs that someone is a true Alaskan, a sourdough.

True Alaskans--Sourdoughs:

* have at least two big dogs and take them everywhere
* eat fish and game almost exclusively
* have at least two pair of Xtra-Tuff boots and hip waders
* wear the Xtra-Tuff boots to church, concerts, weddings, etc.
* wear shorts, tank tops, flip flops, shirt sleeves when temperatures are in the 40's
* buy their under ware at a hardware store
* have beards (men, that is)
* have everyday flannels and dress flannels
* bait their own fish hooks (we're talking women too, here)
* clean their own fish and game (even women)
* shoot their own game (women too)
* smoke-----fish and game, that is
* can fillet a 25lb halibut in 60 seconds
* can repair anything mechanical or electrical without a manual (men and women)
* go outdoors in rain, sleet, snow, ice, wind, blizzard, etc
* do not drink decaf coffee
* do not become vegetarians
* have 12 foot fences around their gardens to keep moose out
* know when fall is going to arrive by looking at the fireweed plants
* know the 764 fishing rules and exceptions
* live in a small space that they built themselves which may or may not have an indoor bathroom
* not afraid of hard work
* drive 4-wheel vehicles
* own or have access to a WWII 6x6 to drive through muskeg (far north peat bog)
* pick up hitch hikers
* have amazing stories to tell about homesteading
* are fiercely patriotic
* were baptized in a creek with 40 degree water
* have a generous, accepting, friendly spirit
* love the Lord and the land

So while I'm still gaping at moose in wonder, my sourdough friends are tracking them down to shoot and fill their larder for the winter.  I don't own Xtra-tuffs yet, but I do have hip waders!  I don't wear shorts in 40 degree weather, and I don't drink caffeinated coffee after noon.  My progress from cheechako to sourdough is slow.  I'm thinking it could take years and years!  Hmmm, should I make this a goal?
Believe me, it's tempting!




Pictures of "sourdough" housing:

Monsoons

The monsoons are here!  The weather in Alaska changes rather quickly-----or so we thought in the summer.  Now it's fall, and rain has set in.  We've been experiencing several days of wall-to-wall sunshine followed by many more days of rain.  The ratio of rain to sun has been about 5 to 2.  This is completely unscientific, of course, but so it seems to me. Very often it will rain most of the day then stop during the late afternoon and evening, serving up a gorgeous sunset.  Next day, more of the same.

Please note that this is not a complaint.  The rain is usually soft and pleasant and makes a wonderful, comforting sound on our metal roof.  Yes, there's mud everywhere, especially considering only a few roads are paved!  A crucial part of every Alaskan's wardrobe is a pair of rubber boots coming half-way up the calf.  It's very messy here.  But we're all in the mess together and so somehow, it doesn't seem as bad.  It's the norm.  It's also the norm to remove shoes when entering a home.

Rain on this side of the bay with temperatures from the high 30's to the mid 50's means that a lot of times it's snowing at higher elevations on the other side of the bay!  Now that's exciting!  Those of you who know me know I love snow.  And now more snow is evident across the bay.  It was so amazing on a recent sunny day to see the clouds lift, exposing white peaks!

And then there's one more thing.  Rain means clouds.  Yes, the mountains are majestic, the water beautiful, the animals exciting, but the clouds here are completely amazing.  I love watching them.  I find myself constantly trying to capture what they look like with photos.  I've probably taken a hundred, but pictures don't do them justice.  I've talked about this many times, but I'm continually thrilled by them.  It's a worshipful experience looking at the sky here----truly.

With all that in mind I'm attaching some photos I've taken in the last week.  Many of them were taken right from our deck.  In a couple, the glaciers could be mistaken for clouds or vice versa.  Let me know what you think.

Halibut Fishing

Yesterday a very nice friend with a very nice boat took us halibut fishing.  We met on the dock at 6:30, and already dozens of boats, big and small, were putt-putting slowly out onto the bay. It was a spectacular day on the water.  Nelson had been out many times, but I had only been out once before and got sea sick; so I was sucking down Bonine.

We went all over the  part of Cook Inlet near the mouth of the Katchemak Bay and saw scores of otters sunbathing and playing, and of course the ever-present murres, gulls, and puffins.  It was really halibut that we wanted to see, however.  They were very elusive.  We would drop our lines with a nice big hunk of tasty herring skewered to the hook and wait.  And wait.  And wait.  Nothing.  Then we would pull up our lines and motor to another spot in the Inlet to do the same thing with the same results. 

We repeated this scenario about 1/2 dozen times, allowing us to tour much of that part of the Inlet.  Then the boat's captain, Aaron, said that now we were going to take a "boat ride"!  So off we went, heading south.  The water was getting choppier since we were in the more open part of the Cook Inlet now. We bounced our way south for over an hour.  The scenery was incredible.

Finally, we stopped and dropped our lines once more.   For quite a while there was narry a nibble.  Then suddenly, Nels got a small halibut and within minutes, Aaron got a bite.  His rod dipped waaayy down.  He struggled to reel up and we at last saw a huge halibut fighting furiously at the end of his line.  This was a big one.  Aaron and Nels struggled for 20 minutes to bring it in the boat.  A fish this size needed to be killed before it was brought into the boat, otherwise it might injure someone.  When they got it into the boat it measured out to 55 inches long which weighs in at 82 lbs!  It was no where near the biggest but a lot bigger than any of us had had experience with before.  Very exciting! Aaron fileted it right then and there. Then it was time to head home.  It was late afternoon.  The tide was going out so we would have a long ride back to the dock.

And what a ride!  Aaron was thrilled with his catch and feeling euphoric; so we flew.  It was a cowboy ride for sure.  We sailed over those waves like a flat stone skipped by a well-skilled twelve year old.  The bay had white caps by this time and lots of boats were returning to dock so there was a lot of wake with the waves.  We seemed to hit them all!  The boat would slap and dip over and over.  Who needs Hershey Park?  This was better than any amusement ride and certainly longer!

What did I get?   Sick!  It happened again on our way to the last spot we tried.  I was laid low for a couple hours but was good enough to enjoy the wild ride home.  Will I go again?  Probably.  Loved that ride home!  Yipee-ky-yi-yo!!

Signs of Fall

I wish you could see the clouds today.  The sky looks like a group of three year olds were finger painting up there!  There are loads of bumpy clouds piled up looking like  popcorn overflowing from a big blue bowl.  I see elongated cloud tubes that look like my Dad's hand-rolled cigarettes in giant form.  Some are swirly clouds looking like someone just wiped their hands on a heavenly towel.  There are dashes and commas and apostrophes as though a young English student didn't quite know which punctuation to use so he used them all!  It's a riot of white against the bluest blue ever.  And I get to watch it against a back drop of dark peaks with flashes of snow clinging to the sides.

Another amazing day in Alaska.  I have definitely found that trying to photograph scenes here is an exercise in frustration.  An artist would be hard-pressed to even begin to capture the majesty and beauty we see here daily.

We recently met an artist who came very close. Norman Lowell built a gallery to house his work about 20 miles from Homer.  At his gallery are displayed hundreds of his paintings and other works of art all about Alaska.  It knocks your socks off! In 1958 Norman and his wife homesteaded the land where the gallery is located.  They built a cabin, which is still standing, and raised five children there. They still live on the property in a house they built later. Gifted gardeners, they have a large greenhouse, huge vegetable garden and massive bouquets of flowers everywhere.  It is gorgeous and so interesting.

The Lowells actually host their gallery; so visiting it means you might be fortunate enough to meet and talk with them.  They are sweet, gracious people----courageous too!  I can't imagine what it was like to move to the wilds of Alaska all alone and have to build and develope land  single-handedly, and then raise 5 children there with no schools, no roads, no phones, no convenience stores.....  Oh, and by the way, build your own facilities, grow all your own food and then find the time and energy to paint outstanding pictures and market them.  But they did all that and more.  Their story is amazing and inspiring.

By the way, Norman told us that he wants to retire and sell the gallery.  He said this was a good time to buy one of his paintings.  Never mind they cost in the 5-6 figures!  Google his name and take a look.  If you have a hefty amount of spare money, you might want to consider an artistic investment.  Even if you don't, I encourage you to look at his work.  It's outstanding!

Believe it or not, we are beginning to see signs of fall coming on. Most of you reading this live in the "lower 48".  Signs of fall in your area like a chill in the evening, birds beginning to flock, back-to-school-ads, canning fruits and vegetables are probably becoming noticeable.

Signs of fall here are a little different. Our friends  are busy preserving food too but not fruits and veggies.  They are fishing, fishing, fishing to collect enough to dry, freeze and can for the winter.  There are colored leaves beginning to appear already.  A couple days ago a news report announced that two inches of snow fell on a river valley high in the mountains directly across the bay from our cabin.  And the most obvious sign to us is the changing light.  We now turn on our lights in the cabin more often.  The daylight/dark thing is changing very rapidly----5 minutes every day!  Right now the sun is setting around 10:00 and rising around 6.  Not only that, but the darkness is actually darker. An aurora lit up the Northern sky and was photographed near Anchorage recently. That takes darkness to see, along with colder conditions and sun spot activity.

The one big sign of fall I miss a lot is talk of football, particularly Penn State Football, of course.  I admit, it will be hard to wonder how Joe Pa is doing this year.  Fall is not going to seem right without watching and discussing each and every game.  Getting the information late will have to do, but nothing compares to watching the games first hand!  So far, this is my only complaint about Alaska.




 

Clouds, Mountains, and Light

It is as clear as squeaky clean glass outside today, except, of course, at the tops of the mountains.  Right at the peaks of the mountains is a line of puffy clouds looking like lace trim on the bodice of a dress.
The water is very calm.  In the very far distance---60 miles----I can see Mt. Augustine, Douglas, Iliamna, and Redoubt, all magnificent volcanoes.  There's a cruise ship docked on the spit, its big white body clearly visible from my 10-mile vantage point.  Every once in awhile I see the sun reflecting off a boat motoring in the bay as though sending signals with a mirror.  The temperature is a very pleasant 70.

It was clear like this a couple days ago too when we ferried across the  bay to Seldovia, a very small town that can only be reached  by plane or boat.  The water was amazing.  It was sparkling so much it would hurt your eyes without sunglasses.  We saw a sea lion, many otters, cormorants, murres, several kinds of ducks, loons, and puffins.  We had a delightful time wandering around the town taking pictures of interesting spots and reveling in the gorgeous weather.

One of the things I love about this place is how much and how fast the weather changes.  Yesterday it was cloudy and somewhat dreary all day.   This actually was good because Nels and Nevin, our friend from home, went river fishing for salmon and trout.  If it's clear when you fish, the fish are more likely to see you and avoid your tempting bait.  They are not dumb.  But lucky for us, it was not clear yesterday; so Nels and Nevin came home with numerous salmon and trout, almost their limit---a good catch for their first attempt at this kind of fishing.  We had a wonderful fresh salmon dinner last night.  From stream to table was only a few hours!

After dinner Kitty, Nevin's wife, and I played cards and watched the weather transform.  It was fascinating.  After every hand of Oh Pshaw we'd look up to see an entire new scene!  Little wispy puffs marching across the front of the mountains, huge blankets of clouds draped over the peaks and part-way down the sides, long cotton-like rolls laid out along the middle of the mountains, fog at the top with the feet of the mountains showing through, fog at the bottom with the peaks jutting through, and eventually, fog everywhere. The more shrouded the mountains became, the closer they looked until eventually we couldn't see them or the water at all.  All this in a couple hours!  It's quite a show and never boring.

The sun was still shining brightly when we all went to bed.  It's been just over a month since the solstice though, and we can already see a big difference in the amount of light at night.  The sun is setting earlier and dark is getting darker.  I'm actually looking forward to the seasons and the long stretches of darkness because it will be such a different experience for us.  I'm eager to see the stars, which I haven't seen since we left home, and the aurora especially.  So what I'm really saying is I'm eager to see points of light in the darkness.  There's a lesson there!

"You are resplendent with light, more majestic than mountains rich with game."
  Psalm 76:4