I’ve been in class for the past 10 days in a 100 ton
Master and operator of uninspected vessel (OUPV) class
here in Juneau. The instructor is a former Coastie
and Marine Highway mate, and it’s run through the
University of Alaska, Southeast.

The class involves testing for exams regarding general
vessel deck questions, marine navigation, “rules of
the road”, and use of charts, compass and plotting.
The rules of the road is the biggest hurdle.

The test has the highest minimum passing score (90%),
and a large body of intricate information to use. For
example, what is the lighting configuration for a
power-driven vessel pushing a barge ahead on the
Mississippi River above the Huey Long Bridge at
anchor? After instruction and studying, you get to a
point where you can get an 83% or 86 every time, but
getting to the 90% was a matter of going over the
information over and over and over again until it
finally sank in by osmosis. I luckily passed on the
first try. What a relief.

I headed home early from work and slept off several
days of anxiety. You get 3 tries, and then have to
wait 3 months to try again. I can see others in the
class who haven’t passed yet with the same anxiety and
sleep deprevation I had. Not like we’re studying to
be doctors or anything, but the course has been
challenging and intense and worthwhile.

We’re in the grip of our 3rd cold stretch this year.
Although zero doesn’t sound cold – especially for
Alaska – I can tell you I’d take 25 below in Fairbanks
any day versus 10 degrees and the moist wind here on
the water howling any day. Good time to be inside in
a class, that’s for sure.

–
Mark Stopha and Sara Hannan
Alaska Wild Salmon Company
Wild Salmon and Salmon Pet Treats
4455 N. Douglas Hwy
Juneau, AK 99801
907-463-3115
www.GoodSalmon.com

We ate dinner at our friend’s the Campbells tonight.
They feed us regularly. There were about 14 there
tonight. One a 12 year old, a high school sophomore
and freshman, two college juniors, a middle-20
something, and the rest of us.

We were to bring the hore-dervs, and so naturally
brought king salmon lox, hot smoked coho and sockeye,
canned smoked salmon dip, king crab dip, and king crab
stuffed mushrooms. Everyone, including the kids,
started taking the salmon and lox and putting it on
crackers as soon as we set it on the table, with the
king crab next. The only item anyone hesitated for
was the smoked salmon dip, which had a brownish color
from the mixings. A few asked what it was, and after
hearing, dug right in. This crew was from Juneau, and
knew it’s seafood – young to old.

Whenever I’ve taken salmon elsewhere – be it smoked
salmon or salmon off the grill – everyone is tentative
“trying it” to see if they’ll like it. Not unlike
people trying deer or elk who are used to McDonalds
hamburgers. Lox, in particular, seems to be an
acquired or inherited taste. The kids at the table
ate it up, knowing it’s best on a cracker with perhaps
some creme cheese, whereas those unfamiliar with it
may eat it alone and not like it.

I’m not sure why I noticed this tonight, but glad I
did. It’s nice to have family around when your own
family is far away.

–
Mark Stopha and Sara Hannan
Alaska Wild Salmon Company
Wild Salmon and Salmon Pet Treats
4455 N. Douglas Hwy
Juneau, AK 99801
907-463-3115
www.GoodSalmon.com

Pulled yet another classic boner yesterday. Ron and I
went deer hunting over across from our cabin. A
northerly was blowing, and we even had a little
freezing spray crossing Stephens Passage. When we got
to the place we’d leave the boat for hunting, the wind
was blowing and we weren’t certain we could float the
boat offshore enough so as not to go dry from the
tide. We decided I’d drop off Ron on Admiralty
Island, go to our cabin on Horse Island, and come back
and get him in the afternoon.

I went back to the cabin, which was a nipply 24
degrees F. I started a fire, got some water on for
coffee, and settled in. I got an idea about 1045 am.
Low tide was at 3 pm, and Ron’s pickup time was 2 pm.
If I went over and could get the boat out about 2
hours worth of water, then I could run up to a muskeg
near the beach that only takes about 20 minutes to
reach. I’d be back at the boat at 2 pm to meet Ron,
and even if it did go dry, it wouldn’t be long till
the tide started flooding after 3 pm.

I ran over the Admiralty. I snapped on the shore line
that attaches to the anchor. You use this line to
pull back the anchor after pushing the boat offshore.
I piled up the anchor chain on the side of the boat,
put the anchor on the gunwale, and shoved the boat.
The wind soon caught it, and it was drifting off shore
10 yards, and picking up speed. At 20 yards, I
noticed the shore line wasn’t paying out. I picked up
the slack…. and it was all slack! The snap had come
off the anchor!

So, I was standing on Admiralty with my boat drifting
back to Horse Is. I immediately double-timed it to a
cabin on Admiralty to see if they had a small boat I
could carry back to get my skiff. I found only a
larger skiff, so I hustled back, got Ron, and back to
the cabin. I’m sure I walked alot further on this
hiatus than I would have hunting.

We got the skiff down to the beach, put on the oars,
and off we went. We were in a following sea, and
Ron’s was white-knuckling it a few times when the
following sea wave came right up to the top of the
gunwale. Luckily, he was in front of me so I didn’t
notice too much.

We made good time across the passage between the two
islands. About 40 minutes and 2 blisters later, we
touched the beach at Horse Island. The skiff was high
and dry by now, but safe and didn’t look like it had
been pounded by the waves.

We returned about 2 hours later to get the skiff off
the beach. The wind had died down, and the tide soon
flooded under the boat, and I poled it off the rocks
and down the beach a bit further to the anchorage,
where we pulled it to the deep with a rope-pulley
system that’s been on the beach since before we bought
the cabin 10 years ago.

The next day, we ran to return the small boat right at
high tide. The wind had switched, the skies clouded
up, the temperature was rising, and snow was on the
way. Ron pulled the skiff back to the cabin, put it
on the trailer, as I held the skiff off the beach.

We ran back to check the crab pot, and hit the
jackpot. 34 dungeness crab. Yes- that’s alotta crab.
Ron was wanting to check some of them for size,
which I assured him were legal size. The crab are so
big this year that the smaller ones look undersize,
but are actually well over the 6.5 inch carapace
minimum.

We headed back to town under calmer seas than
yesterday, with an unexpected load of crab. After so
many of these experiences, I don’t get too excited. I
knew we had shelter and could keep warm until we got
rescued, so no need to panic. When you’re feet are on
the beach, it’s not time to do something stupid that
could get you killed. Three people died almost within
sight of where we were, trying to get back to their
boat dragging anchor about a decade ago. They were
safe on shore, but risked it and tried to get to their
boat in a raft in rough seas. Like I told Ron, that’s
why I have insurance on the skiff. So, another story
for my friends to recall when I’m in need of harassment.

–
Mark Stopha and Sara Hannan
Alaska Wild Salmon Company
Wild Salmon and Salmon Pet Treats
4455 N. Douglas Hwy
Juneau, AK 99801
907-463-3115
www.GoodSalmon.com

We have a local Salvation Army here in Juneau. They
run a thrift store and use the money earned for
projects to help the needy in town. In front of their
store are numerous signs that say “Don’t leave
Donations Here after hours”. Of course, people make a
habit of dropping off crap there after hours. Much of
it is no good, and the SA ends up paying to take it to
the dump.

I end my shift for the state job in the evening. Many
times, I’ve seen newly left crap in front. Usually,
it’s on the weekends, after people have their garage
sales. I always hoped to catch people leaving their
stuff there illegally, and on Sunday night, I finally
did. A van was off loading box after box after box of
crap and leaving it in front of the store. The van
lights were trained on the sigh that said don’t leave
donations here after hours.

I called my local police department, with the vehicle
description and license plate number, etc. The
dispatcher told me it was a civil matter between the
business and those leaving the stuff! I said so I can
go dump my crap on my neighbors lawn and they’ll have
to take me to court to get me to clean it up or remove
it? The dispatcher said she didn’t know the answer to
that question.

The next day, I wrote a letter to the editor of the
Juneau Empire and sent the same letter to our fearless
Assembly. Two days later, after the assistant police
chief had called the SA and talked with Assembly
members, he only called me after he saw my letter
published in the paper. He told me the dispatcher
“dropped the ball” and should have sent an officer.

I thought, sweet! Now we can get down to arresting
the people. The police assistant chief chuckled and
said no, the police weren’t going to do anything
because I did’t indentify what was in the boxes they
left in front of the building!

Apparently, if you report a crime here in Juneau, you
are to inventory everything the culprits are dumping
on private property, perhaps in alphabetical order and
by color. I also perhaps should have fingerprinted
them, taken a DNA swab, and a plater-or-paris mold of
their tires.

One of my assemblymen told me that there’s nothing the
police could do because I couldn’t identify what it
was they left there, and that it would be “my word
against theirs” if they denied it. He said I should
have had a photo of the scene or the stuff left
outside the store. The stuff was piled up in front of
the store – what else does someone need to do but go
over there and say, “Yup, that there’s some stuff. Is
this the stuff they left Mr. Stopha” to which I’d
reply “Yup, that’s the stuff I saw them leave”.
Pretty intense stuff, that police work.

This is the fourth incident I’ve had over the years
for which I’ve called the Juneau Police Dept., and not
one time have they responded. Once was when my truck
windows were smashed and my fire extinguisher
discharged all over the inside of my truck, with hand
prints everywhere. Twice, our house was vandalized by
students my wife had disciplined and who we knew the
kids who had done it (kids have to brag at school, and
it doesn’t take long for it to get back to my wife).
This incident makes four. My assembly man told me
that this would “probably have the effect of getting
better response out of JPD next time around”. Sorry
Charlie, four times and no response doesn’t give me
much faith in number five.

The older I get, the more I believe individuals really
can’t make a difference in government or politics. If
I’d have been on the Assembly or the Police Chief, you
can bet your life the police would have sent someone
over to investigate. But a private citizen calling in
to report a crime at a non-profit? Not gonna happen.
Always something more pressing to do than check out a
crime in progress. When you are at the scene watching
a crime happen, describing it to the police
department, and nothing happens, you realize how
futile such actions are. You either have to drive on
by, or take action yourself. And who knows if there’s
a weapon in that van, or the people might be on drugs,
or whatever – oh yeah, that’s what we pay the police for.

–
Mark Stopha and Sara Hannan
Alaska Wild Salmon Company
Wild Salmon and Salmon Pet Treats
4455 N. Douglas Hwy
Juneau, AK 99801
907-463-3115
www.GoodSalmon.com

Winter is a time to reminice. Things slow down up
here, like everywhere else. There’s time to daydram
about home.

A boy had many milestones growing up in Bolivar. One
if the first was learning to ride a bike. That was
almost instant freedom. Just about everything worth
doing was reachable by bike. The fishing creeks at
Saltrising Road and Bartlett Road. The swimming pool.
Town Team baseball games at the school. Glintz’s
store to buy popsicles.

One of the most important uses of the bike was to
spectate at the Little League fields. Our league
consisted of 4 teams: the Braves, Red Sox, Yankees and
Dodgers. Little League started at age 8. Most of us
learned to ride a bike about 6 or 7. The ballfield
was on the edge of town, along the creek. From our
house it was about a 8 blocks or so. Loose change
would buy you some Pixie Stix or candy cigarettes and
a pop from the concession stand.

We all had our favorite teams. Mine was the Braves.
I can’t remember exactly just why it was the Braves.
It may have been that the Dempseys, our distant
cousins, were on the team. Or maybe it was because
they were the league leaders at the time.

Hitting a home run was the ultimate achievement – kind
of like a high schooler being able to dunk a
basketball. It didn’t happen very often, and
certainly not every year. When Dave Lockwood starting
hitting them, word spread like wildfire among the 6
and 7 year olds. We didn’t want to miss a game.
Everyone knew how many home runs he had, and we tried
to make every game.

When I finally reached 8 years old, I went to tryouts.
When Dick Smith, the fire chief and coach of the
Yankees, called and told me I’d made his team, I was
devastated. I think I cried on the phone telling him
I wanted to play for the Braves. I can’t remember his
reply, but the Yankees were to be my team for the next
4 years.

As brother Joel came of age, he, too, joined the team,
as was the rule. Family were assigned to the same
team for parental sanity, I’m sure. Our cousin, Suzie
Dempsey, made the newspapers when she became a member
of the Braves with her brothers. A girl playing
little league was a big deal in the 1970’s. There
were few organized sports of any kind for girls back
then. Many didn’t start participating in sports until
they were in High School.

Since she’d been playing sand lot baseball with us
since we could remember, it was a bigger deal outside
Bolivar than it was to us. But she, and other girls
like her, led the way to better girls sports across
the country. The daughter of two of our
contemporaries, Jordan Ingalls, just signed a
full-ride scholarship to Youngstown State Division I
softball as a pitcher. She’s the first female I know
of to play Division I sports from our school – and
really only the second person ever. Bob Torrey, who
graduated in the early 1970’s, played football at Penn
State. Nice to see women’s sports coming of age
there.

But back to the Yankees. Turns out we went from the
basement to the top of the league over our four years.
We won all 10 of our games one year. Mom came and
watched at most of the games, and was always a comfort
to see her there. Grandpa would watch when he was in
town too. I think the only time I was ever mad at him
was when he left a game to go fishing with someone
without waiting for me. I forgave him when he took me
to back to the new spot he’d learned of that day on
the Genessee River over near Wellsville.

The biggest play I remember was by my brother. He was
using this huge glove borrowed from Pat Cawley, our
neighbor who grew up in the house behind us. Joel was
about 10 years old, and playing left field. There
were runners on first and second with nobody out, when
the batter hit a line drive to the leftcenter gap.
Joel ran to his left. From my catchers position, I
watched him float through the air in a full horizontal
position, and snag the ball in the webbing of the huge
glove. The runners on first and second saw no way he
was going to catch the ball, and were already on their
way to the next base. Joel got to his feet, threw the
ball in to second baseman, who touched second, and
then threw the ball to the first baseman, and that was
a triple play. Funny how you remember things like
that. Life was Little Leage back then. Only later in
life did we come to fully appreciate all the time the
coaches and parents gave to run the league. And to
regret some disrespectful behavior we doled out to the
volunteer umpires. None of knew then the sacifices
these men made, working a blue collar job all day,
then coming down to listen to some whiny kids (and
sometimes parents) complain about balls and strikes a
outs.nd I try to thank them even now when I get back
home. Many of them are umping games in heaven now.

–
Mark Stopha and Sara Hannan
Alaska Wild Salmon Company
Wild Salmon and Salmon Pet Treats
4455 N. Douglas Hwy
Juneau, AK 99801
907-463-3115
www.GoodSalmon.com

What a freakin’ saga getting 22 hand-made baskets from
the interior of Sierra Leone to the coast so they can
be mailed to us. We sent money for the baskets to be
shipped last Feb., but could not contact the person to
let them know the money was waiting for them and to
give them the refenence number for getting the money
out (via Money Gram).

Finally, one of the brothers of our friends there
returned from college in Ghana, went to Kono, got the
baskets, and returned with them to Freetown, where he
shipped them. I am able to intermittenly contact him
by email, which is such an advancement in technology
over even cellphones. He gave me a quote for sending
the baskets, and I sent him the money to do it. He
had a miscommunication with his brother who got the
quotes, and only got a quote for shipping half the
baskets! Luckily, I’d added money in for him for his
lorry ride to Kono and back and for his assistance,
and this covered the basket shipping.

The Post Office there said it would be here in 2 weeks
– 2 weeks?!? I’ll believe that when I see it. I’ll
believe we’ll even GET the baskets, period, when I see
it! Anyway, we’ll hopefully get them in time for
Christmas so we can sell them again with our friends,
and maybe even get a system worked out for the future.
It’s amazing how fast part of the world is moving,
and yet how slow other parts are in just trying to
keep up to stay behind.

I remember having an arguement when I took a job in
the S. Carolina bible belt. My contention that the
world of religious politics was stupid because 99% of
people don’t choose their religion any more than their
skin color- your religion is determined by who you
were born to, and little else, so why do we fight over
which one is “right”. Likewise, we like to tout
ourselves in the U.S. as somehow deserving of the
prosperity and standard of living we’ve “earned”, when
really, 99% of that, too, is determined by where we’re
born.

If I was born in Sierra Leone, it’s a fat chance I
could ever achieve even a semblence of our standard of
living we enjoy here in Alaska. If I worked twice as
hard, all the money I made would have no value outside
of my country (maybe I could use it in Guinea or
Liberia, but that’s it. You can change dollars to
Leones, but not Leones to dollars – no one wants
them). Then, as MONTHLY inflation is in the double
digits, I’d need to spend my money as fast as I could
and turn it into some sort of goods because my 10
dollars this month would be worth only 9 dollars next
month and 8 dollars the month after. You can’t save
for “retirement” or a “rainy day”. It’s always
pouring rain! Every dollar you earn is worth a
fraction of today’s worth tomorrow, so saving it is
the worst thing you can do. No one will sell you a
stock or bond with a leone. So, you do the best you
can, you live for today, and have as many kids as you
can because they – and not savings or assets – will
see you through your old age.

Here in the states, we like to think of ourselves as
somehow worthy of all we think we need to be happy by
buying ever growing consumables, but really, it’s just
the luck of the cosmic draw that are even able to
concieve of the properity we don’t appreciate here,
and “luck” that, unless you’ve been there, you aren’t
burdened by the first-hand knowledge of what’s it like
not to have been born here.

–
Mark Stopha and Sara Hannan
Alaska Wild Salmon Company
Wild Salmon and Salmon Pet Treats
4455 N. Douglas Hwy
Juneau, AK 99801
907-463-3115
www.GoodSalmon.com