Mike’s daughter went to Anchorage to intern. Even went out to Bethel and met Doug and Val and their friends. Liked it so much she decided to practice in Anchorage.
So, Mike, Polly, and other family came to Anchorage for a visit this summer. Mike was able to come down fishing with me for a few days. He showed up in classic New England attire: flat-soled leather shoes, khaki pants, collared shirt with pullover sweater. This worked for him for both travel and fishing.
Mike was here before the Morgans, but I couldn’t get his trip uploaded before the Morgans, so they are out of order. Tom, Sarah, Mike, and I were all posted near each other in Kono, Sierra Leone, when we were in the Peace Corps, and I’ve remained friends with them ever since. I was with Mike when he met Polly in Liberia. Polly and Mike lived in New Orleans when I was in graduate school in Starkville and Polly was in medical school at Tulane, and I visited them several times.
I stopped to buy some oysters from Markos’s farm at Wildfish in Klawock on the way to the airport to pick up Mike. We went right to the boat and motored to the anchorage, arriving at dusk.
I was up early and steamed to the fishing hole. The first fish on was by the island. I was a bit surprised when Mike grabbed the rod and knew what he was doing. He grew up fishing in New Jersey (or was it Connecticut?). Nice. But we lost that first fish and didn’t get another one for hours and hours. Finally, we caught kings and cohos, and the resident humpback whales put on their show for Mike.
Since it was Mike’s first trip and of such short duration, I cleaned all the fish and Mike got dinner on. Steamed oysters (I’m not much of a raw oyster eater) and salmon. He helped wrap and vac-pack the fish, too.
We moved to the other spot back in the islands the next day. More cohos there. Mike really shined when I mentioned I had a few issues on the boat. The heater fan had quit. I thought it was the fan. Mike thought different. Mike worked as a mechanic, fixing up old cars and flipping them from what I understood, and I think he ran a mechanic shop earlier in life. He asked for my test light. I said I didn’t have one, but I had a volt meter. “You don’t have a test light? How can you not have a test light?” he asked. He saw I’d used the new fangled butt connectors you melt with a heat gun or lighter in my wiring. He despised them. He was sure it was one of those connectors. He was right. He soon had the fan running, and we were back in heat—with harsh advice not to use those connectors and to get a test light. (When the Morgans arrived several days later, they came bearing a new test light mailed to them for me by Mike!) He advised me on a little emergency starter for the Yanmar, too, and I ordered one of those to the Morgans, which they also brought with them.
Mike’s 60th birthday was the day he went back to Anchorage. Polly told him he had a surprise party waiting for him when he got back, so he wasn’t to extend his trip here. He arrived with enough salmon for his birthday dinner and stories to tell. And enough salmon left over from the dinner to make some gravlax when he got home to Virginia.