Sean and Pat came in for a couple weeks of Alaska on the tug. Kind of an adventure for people to get here now rather than Juneau. Flying in on the jet from Seattle to Ketchikan is pretty routine. But then taking a small plane here, or schlocking your luggage down to the airport ferry, then down the steet a quarter mile to the Prince of Wales ferry and the 3 hour trip to Hollis are new to most.

We got out fishing and didn’t catch much the first day or two. We got a tip from Brian like we always do on where to try, and once there we caught one, but that was it. One or two humpback whales worked along the shore, and it seems like we were conscious of them and they of us, and we stayed out of each other’s way.

The next day was more of the same, with just one fish in the morning. Then Brian showed up, and his boat was catching fish one after another on the same drag as us. We lost a few but not getting nearly the action he was. He called and asked what kind of lures we were using. Spoons I said. What color?  Cop car, I said. He hung up, then swung over and tossed a lure on the boat. It was black, green and blue. We put that on one rod, and on the other rod, the closest thing I had to Brian’s spoon: a green needlefish spoon I had from my trolling days that I never had caught a fish on in the waters of northern Southeast Alaska. Life got good after that.

We soon started getting kings on. Another first – never seen a specific spoon color make that much difference. We saw a lone sea lion along the shore.   At one point we had a double on. Pat, the more experienced of the two, played his fish to the net, and we got it on board. Sean was letting his fish play him, with the his rod going every which direction, including all the way forward, where it slipped behind the Jeanne Kay name plate screwed to the bow. I climbed forward and released it. Sean’s line was now slack, and I feared the worst: he’d lost Brian’s spoon!  But wait!  There was a little weight still on the line. When the end of the line came up, the lure was still there!  Along with a salmon head neatly clipped just behind the gills by that lone sea lion we’d seen. No wonder the fish was turning Sean every which way. A large mammal was on its tail, and he couldn’t get away.   We found a nice anchorage in a sheltered cove on Baker island for the evening, after setting the two hook skate and the crab pot.

The next day was more of the same. I was up about 430 am and we were out fishing on the drag by about 530 am. First one’s there. The fishing was good, and we’d caught several kings by 930 am, when the bite trailed off. Rain was setting in, too. So, we reeled up and headed to check our skate (nothing) and crab pot (nothing).

The third day there was slower. We caught one big one the first pass in the morning, then that was it. Then we saw some boats across the way on the Lulu shore. Brian had told me that was another place to try, but I wasn’t quite sure just where he meant. Now I did. We picked up and got behind one of the boats to learn the drag. We got another nice fish there. Another day of learning and catching. By now, the boys had the hang of the gear. They could set the downriggers and rods alone. I would still go back to help when a fish got on, as it wasn’t yet a regular thing to get a king salmon on.

A blow was coming, and it wouldn’t be much fun fishing this spot tomorrow, so we headed for another spot that would be fishable. As we approached the channel to cross to there, I saw a big white boat. With a big red square on the side. Coast Guard. Friends called and said they’d been boarded. I love the Coast Guard and what they do. Except boarding my boat and home while I’m out on the water, armed to the teeth, without asking. We changed course and went around an island and on to town to avoid the hassle.

The next day, it did blow as expected. The first order of business was to get to the store and find the magic spoons. When we got to Log Cabin…..they had none!  Dang it. I talked to Brian as we were leaving, and he said he got his at Lynn’s. Whew. We headed to JT Browns, and I found what I thought was exactly the spoon, but with a red eye on it I figured had rubbed off Brian’s spoon. I bought an extra spoon to replace the one he gave us with a new one. Sean finally got a Craig, AK hat- a JT Brown’s cap. Turns out it wasn’t exactly the spoon he gave us- they were out of those – but close enough.

We dropped the spoon off to Brian’s house door, and headed home for the day. We stopped in at Brian and Ellen’s later that day to get the key to a canoe they had stashed at a trout lake, as we thought we’d try that for the day. While there, we met a crowd from Utah who they were long time friends with – the extended family of a Utah-raised teacher friend here.

We took off the next day for the trout lake. Brian drove in his own rig as well to show us the lake location, and to collect money for some marten he’d sold to a buyer there awhile back. The lake is not easy to find, and I was sure to mark things on my gps when we made a turn on this logging road or that.  He and Pat talked trapping on the way over in Brian’s truck. The boys were enchanted hiking the quarter mile through the rainforest to the lake. Brian was in the lead, and flushed a rare spruce grouse, which flew up into a tree 10 feet away and allowed us to pass. Brian lead us to the canoe, gave the boys some instructions on where to fish in the lake, and then hiked back to his truck and on for his money collection date.

The three of us boarded the canoe, with me in the middle. The boys paddled up the outlet creek into the lake, and dropped me off at a beach. We fished there together for awhile, and Pat had a little trout strike his lure right when he was about to pull it out of the water. I stayed on the beach while the boys canoed around the lake. The only other trout I saw was a 6 inch trout jump for a bug nearby. The trout seemed to have left the lake. Brian said he’d never seen the lake level so low.

We returned the canoe after a couple hours, and hiked back to the truck. I thought we’d take the back road to Coffman Cove, where the hamburger stand is. We stopped at the liquor store and got directions to the road, which we easily found and soon were on our way. The road is gravel, with the usual pot holes and washboards. It runs about 30 miles along the coast to Coffman Cove. We stopped to watch some whales at one spot, and I discovered another sea asparagus patch, which I noted on my phone GPS. An hour later we were almost to the junction with the Coffman Cove road and blessed pavement when we came on a landslide across the road!  I thought: this must have just happened!  Otherwise, surely the Forest Service would have put up a sign on the road in Thorne Bay notifying others like us the road was impassable. So, around we turned.

On the way back, we came on a group of 20 somethings playing frisbee golf, of all things, about half way back to Thorne Bay. I asked them where they were from. Craig, they said. Did they know there was a landslide on the road?  Oh sure. It’s been there awhile.  Must take an act of Congress for the Forest Service to put a courtesy road sign, I guess.

The next day, I wasn’t feeling too peppy. A slight fever and cough. Uh oh. I don’t get sick. Just never have. I found a COVID test trusty Sara had left here, and that confirmed the cause of my sickness. I called Ellen and told her. A couple of the Utah crowd were sick. Brian got it the next day. We didn’t see the need for the 3 of us to isolate since we’d spent the previous day cooped up in the truck in close proximity. Sean then tested positive. Still not sure who gave it to who, but it was a one day thing, and much less severe than the other time I knew I had COVID. Thanks goodness for the vaccine and the boosters.

I felt a little better the next day, and the boys were up for leaving on the tug again. Get us out of town and keep the spread from us to a minimum. We headed to the anchorage where we can fish in most weather. I think we caught a few fish there the next day. The weather was flat, so on Brian’s advice (again!) we headed for the outer coast to fish the incoming tide late in the afternoon. We’d have added bonus of being there when the dozens of charter boats out there would have to be heading back to their lodges, so we’d have the place more to ourselves. We caught a nice 22 lb king salmon, and a couple large dusky rockfish we had for dinner.   We returned to the inside anchorage, and set the skate.

The next day, it was pouring rain and blowing. We weren’t fishing the outside today. We stayed on anchor all morning while it blew. The wind laid down a bit in the afternoon as forecast. So we fished right by the anchorage. The fish were there. We caught four fat coho, a nice king, and lost a bigger king. When we checked the skate, we had a 25 lb halibut, and reset the skate. What a day.

The next day we fished the same spot. I was up early so we’d be fishing as the same tide stage  as yesterday afternoon. Lots of feed showed on the sounder. We made two trips around the drag. Nothing but two little rockfish!  A blow was coming again the next day, so we headed home. We checked the skate on the way out. The sixth halibut of the season at this spot. But the sand fleas had gruesomely killed the chicken halibut on the hook, and I shook it off. We decided to try to fish with the rods for halibut right there, as we’d caught so many halibut this season. Only the boys could fish with rods, as a person can’t fish a personal use skate and sport rods the same day. Nothing there. Not a bite.

I looked on the chart, and saw a promising (to me) spot not far away, so we moved there. We were fishing one side of a rock in about 120 feet of water. We could see a couple local boats fishing on the other side of the rock in 250 feet of water. We fished for about an hour and not a bump. Then I started hearing some blows. I looked for the source and saw them: orcas. Behind the boats on the other side of the rock.

We cranked up our fishing gear and I headed that way. My boat does about 6 knots, so I wasn’t sure I could catch them if they were cruising.

We cruised in their direction, and soon were about 150 yards away or so, and I put the boat in neutral to watch. The whales were not cruising, but appeared to be circling and slashing and feeding somehow. I wasn’t sure on what. I saw some bullkelp on the water amongst them, but that was it.

The whale activity started edging our way. I backed up to stay away. When the whales surfaced closer, I put the boat in neutral per my whale watch boat captain experience. The whales edged even closer, as did the stipe of bull kelp in the center of their activity.   Then the whales were 50 yards and closing. I shut the engine down. Now I saw it: that stipe of bullkelp wasn’t bullkelp. It was a seal!  And that seal was being used by the group (I think  – what do I know – I’m not an orca) – to train the calf in the group.

The largest whale would turn quickly and slap it’s tail. I witnessed this close to the boat sometime later and can tell you what that was about. Each time he whipped his tail, it came down precisely on top of that poor seal. I would think the concussion would kill it. But it did not. The seal would surface afterword.

The seal came right up to our boat with huge, tired, bloodshot eyes. It tried to hide between our bumper buoys hanging over the side. The killer whales were now circling right next to the tug. They would roll on their side and look up at us. And at the seal. If the punt wasn’t pulled up on the swimstep, I think the seal would have piled up there in a second. The orcas were slashing around the boat. In the front. On the sides. On the stern. On the bow. Then, with the seal snuggled alongside the boat, three of the whales surfaced a few boat links away, and just sort of stared at us and the seal. All in a line. Ready to charge. I was pretty nervous and creeped out. Sean was on the bow, and I told him to stay in the center and not get near the side of the boat. These orcas are savage.

The whales went below the surface for a minute or two, and that was all I could take. I cranked up, and headed back towards the rock, between the two boats fishing there, leaving the seal behind. We saw the whales soon surface behind us, and again continue to molest the seal. The largest whale repeatedly slapping its tail precisely on the seal. Pat told me later he saw some of the younger whales trying to do the same thing, but they didn’t hit the seal everytime like the biggest whale did.

The whale group and seal came our way slowly. We saw the whales all in the group. The seal had it’s head above water, but it looked like it was clearly in the mouth of one of the whales and not under it’s own power. Then there was a swoosh, and the seal disappeared. It did not reappear. Eventually, the whales moved on. Devilfish. A perfect nickname for these creatures. Or f$*9ing bastards, as I called them. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever felt sorry for a seal.

We came back to town for good on Thursday, as the boys left on the ferry Sunday morning. On Friday, I showed the boys how I smoke fish and can them. I learned how to can fish from Heather Stillwell on the Nushagak River in the late 1980’s. I was a fishing guide living in a camp on the river for Wood River Lodge, and Heather was running the fish counting sonar camp for ADFG upriver. For the smoking part, I learned this from Paul’s daughter Nevette, who learned it from her friends in Yakutat while she fished on the Alsek River. The smoking part is an art that can entail any number of variations and still come out right. The canning part is science that needs to be followed precisely, else botulism could result that can kill a person if they eat tainted fish.

Sean is pretty fastidious, and took to the whole process with interest. Pat already knows alot of the process from smoking and curing venison sausages and bologna in Bolivar. Both of them understand “process” from making maple syrup at the Dunn sugar house. I thawed out some coho salmon, and cut it into strips, brined the strips, then had Sean put them on the smoker racks. We loaded my makeshift smoker, and started the low heat to dry the fish. When it was tacky, I added a piece of peeled alder every now and then for some smoke.

Ellen cooked dinner for us- bison and halibut enchiladas. She and Brian and the boys talked hunting, fishing, trapping and maple syrup making for a couple hours. Dessert was sourdough waffles with fruit and the boys’ syrup.

This morning, the fish were finished smoking, and I showed Sean how to measure and cut the strips and pack the canning jars. Then I showed him the steps for canning, and also texted he and Pat the files from UAF for safe canning of smoked fish.

Lots of repairs and maintenance lately. I put the prop guard on the new 200 HP Yamaha, so wanted to take the boat for a test drive. As I motored in front of Craig, I was turning the wheel, but the boat wasn’t turning. I slowed to a stop before I ran onto the reef. I did a few hard overs each way with the wheel, and got some steering back, but it wasn’t great.

I stopped in and asked Chet about it the next day. He said the helm fluid was probably low, and the seals back by the engine could be leaking. He gave me a run down of checking the fluid level, and how to check the steering ram for leaks. He sold me a bottle of the fluid I’d need, and a cap for the bottle of fluid with a nipple on it to make adding fluid to the reservoir easier. (I still spilled some, of course.)

I went home and tried to back out the plug in the reservoir with the biggest screwdriver I own here. The straight slot on the plug stripped out toot sweet.

I got the grinder out and put on a cutting wheel. I cut a new slot perpendicular to the stripped one like I saw the sidekick do on the Tool Time show (I’m serious-that’s where I saw it.) This time, I got a good bite with the screwdriver and the plug backed out.

I looked into the reservoir to look for metal shavings like Chet instructed. Not only were there no shavings, there was no fluid to be seen. I poured most of the quart into the reservoir until it was about full, and looked again. No shavings. I put some never seize lube on the plug threads and screwed the plug back in.

I worked the wheel back and forth and had good steerage now. I took a paper towel and wiped the steering ram. No oil showed. Might be the first helm oil check since it was installed,  and oil dibbled out  for the past 2 or 3 decades. Or a leak might just have started. Who knows. I learned something new and will need to add checking it to the maintenance schedule.

I learned the next day the leak was a recent event. Oil was leaking around the steering shaft at the helm.  Looks like a delicate job to tear apart the helm, install numerous o rings just right, be sure there’s no nick on the shaft to cause it to leak again, then put it all back together. Clearly a job I’m not the best for. Hopefully, Chet’s crew can fix it.

This morning I was heading to the community garage sale in Coffman Cove. First I stopped at the boat to replace a GFI outlet with a regular outlet that is powered by the inverter. The GFI outlet did not like the inverter current and would make noise by my ear all night.

Off I went to Coffman Cove. On the road to Klawock, the cab filled with mist out of the vents, and the windshield fogged. There was the smell of hot coolant. When I squeegeed the glass, it left behind a streaky film. I pulled over and googling confirmed what I thought: my heater core was leaking.

I went on to get fuel in Klawock, then returned to the Napa store in Craig to get a bypass kit. The salesman set me up instead with a 5/8 inch hose union and 2 hose clamps. I went to the grocery store next for potato salad ingredients.

I returned to the cabin and parked the truck to cool while I made the potato salad. After a couple more cups of coffee, I got to work. I cut the two hoses going to the heater core, and spliced the two with the union and clamps. I wired the union forward to take as much bend out of the hose as possible and hoped it was enough that the coolant wouldn’t be restricted.

I filled the coolant reservoir with water , then started the truck and drove it to town and back. The temperature gauge was normal so looks like it’s working.

Next I put a piece of wood under each side of the toilet paper holder in the bathroom. A full roll wouldn’t want to roll, and now there’s plenty of room.

Lastly, I trimmed around the windows to cover the gaps with the yellow expansion foam. I didn’t have more trim boards, so I used some one inch flexible electrical conduit around one window, and some old boat line for the other.

Pat and Sean get here tomorrow, and now I’m ready.

I heard from numerous people I’d be disappointed if I canned halibut. Too dry was the issue, as halibut don’t have the oil salmon do.

I tried it anyway. I added 2 tablespoons of olive oil and a Mama Lils pepper to each of 14 half pint jars. Then canned according to the University of Alaska Fairbanks cooperative extension guidelines.

Frickin delicious.

So I canned up 2 more cases, and think this will become a household favorite.

Took brother Joel and his son Clay out fishing and exploring this week. Clay is my last nephew who had not been here before.

We fished all week on the boat, anchoring each night. The tug has comfortable beds, enough space for 3 or 4 people, XM radio to listen to ball games, and ample cooking and bathroom facilities. So, nobody is in a hurry to get back to civilization, as we are already living quite comfortably.

We fished for king salmon each day, and I set my two-hook longline skate for halibut. From Sunday through Thursday, we fished all over the islands. We managed only two kings and no halibut. We’d hear of fish being caught elsewhere – we even saw what looked like a 30+ lb king caught right where we were fishing – but couldn’t buy one ourselves. I have to laugh at myself in retrospect, as this is not the first time this has happened to me. Even when I was a fishing guide out on the Nushagak River in Bristol Bay, it would happen. I’d doubt myself, wondering what I was doing wrong. Was I fishing the wrong lures? Was I fishing too deep or too shallow? Should I be fishing another spot?

On Thursday, we fished in sight of the cabin. After catching only the two fish a few days earlier, it took me a second to recognize what the buzzing sound was as I was making coffee in the galley. Then I got it – it was the line being dragged out the reel! Out I piled onto the back deck, as I was closest to the fishing rods. When I grabbed the rod, it was doubled over but not pulsing, and I hoped it wasn’t just a bunch of kelp that had pulled the fishing line out of the downrigger release. But a second later, I felt the heavy fish pull, and knew we had one on. I handed the rod to my nephew now at my side and cranked up the downriggers and the other rod. I got the net out and was ready when he brought the nice king salmon to the boat. What a relief.

We’d planned to fish the rest of the day and go back to the cabin for a relaxing Friday, as the boys left on Saturday. We saw deer on most every smooth beach on the drag, including a nice buck in velvet on a point. Not sure what brought the deer out, but they all seemed happy for the sunshine, and several seemed to be running back and forth on the beach, just for fun. The boys had seen a black bear on the beach where we’d anchored the night before, so they’d seen the big mammals on the islands, except for a wolf. Even though the fishing had been slow, there were always new sights to see for them.

Then I got a message from my brother-in-law – there were fish where he was. He’d fished the same drag as we were at now earlier in the day, but had caught nothing and moved. The spot he moved to was a spot we’d fished a few days earlier, where there was lots of feed and whales and birds, but we couldn’t catch a fish. I wasn’t going to tell my crew and make them feel bad we weren’t catching more, but when my nephew asked me how my brother-in-law was doing, I told him. I told the boys we could still go to town today as they’d wanted, or we could run the two hours to the spot my brother-in-law was fishing, anchor there for the night, and fish their last day here instead of relaxing in town. “Let’s go fishing,” said Clay. That’s my nephew! We pulled in the gear and headed for greener pastures.

On the way to the new spot, I set out my two-hook halibut skate. I set it in the same spot Joe and I caught the two big halibut about 2 weeks ago. I had set there once or twice since and caught nothing. When we got to the salmon spot, we still had plenty of evening daylight left, so we put the lines out. There was tons of feed showing on the sounder. Whales were everywhere. Many surfacing uncomfortably close (for me) to the boat, but the boys seemed unconcerned and enjoyed the experience. Some of the whales were feeding at the surface. What a show. Bang. We got a nice king. So the fish might still be here. We got to our anchorage, hopeful we might get lucky the next day. The boys wanted to get home midday, so I guessed we’d fish til about 10 am, and then a two-hour ride home.

I was up early as usual. I pulled the anchor, and Joel and I set the salmon gear as we idled out of the anchorage. It was a little before 5 am. The sounder didn’t show as much feed as yesterday, and the whales were more dispersed (thankfully), but we were hopeful. It took about an hour and a half when we got the first fish on. And then another. And then another. By now it was 9:30 am. I said we can leave now and get home at noon, or do we want to try for our last fish for our daily limit? “Keep fishing,” said Clay. That’s my nephew!

Several boats were showing up. All friends of my in-laws and me. They’d heard through my brother-in-law and me that there were some fish here, and several had kids with them to see all the whales. Plus, it was a bluebird day, with calm winds and sunny skies. The best weather of our trip, for sure!

About 10:30, we got our last king salmon. We’d also caught 4 coho along the way. Joel had taken over fish cleaning duties after I showed him how when we caught the first fish of the trip, and he kept up with cleaning and chilling the fish all morning. We picked up the gear, and Joel cleaned the last king salmon as I headed for home. We stopped to check my skate. I think all of us were thinking this might be the day for a halibut, since all our luck seemed piled into this final day. We were not wrong! I got a harpoon into the halibut, stunned the fish on the head with the backside of the gaff, and for the first time, easily pulled it up over the swim step and through the stern door, rather than it taking two of us and all we were worth to haul it over the rail as I’d done the previous – what – 10 halibut I’ve caught off the tug? I’m a slow learner, but still learning. I cut the gill to bleed it and headed for home. What a day. And not yet noon.

We steamed back to the beautiful cleaning tables they have on a dock here in Craig. White cutting boards and high-pressure city water from garden hoses. I got Joel started on filleting the first halibut he’s ever tried, and he took right to it. I got to filleting and portioning the day’s catch of salmon, while Clay double rinsed the portions. We let them dry in a colander basket, then piled them into a clean bucket. And as if things could not get luckier, 3 of the 4 king salmon were white-fleshed king salmon – a delicacy – especially here in Southeast Alaska. It’s rare to see a white king salmon in these outer waters of Southeast Alaska, much less 75% of your catch!

After the fish butchering was done, we hauled all the fish, gear, clothes, and trash up the launch ramp dock. Clay said he’d stay with it to protect the fish from the birds, and Joel and I took the tug to the harbor. We found a transient moorage spot, tied up, walked the green mile to the harbor parking lot, then up the street to the harbor master office lot where the truck was parked. We drove the few miles to the launch ramp and picked up our belongings and Clay.

Back at the house, we got down to vac packing. Joel filled the bags with fish, Clay ran the vac packer, and I wrote the fish species and year on each package. I filled the freezer with fish, separating layers with the racks I used on the boat freezer, and then begged Brian for more freezer space as we had more fish than space. He, of course, said sure, and we ran the overflow over to his freezer.

Bad luck struck this morning as I went to pack fish boxes at 4:45 am: the fish had not frozen in the freezer overnight. The fish were plenty cold, but not frozen. That was puzzling. I have racks I made to separate layers of fresh fish going into the freezer so they freeze quickly. They’ve always frozen overnight. But not this time.

Luckily, there was plenty of frozen fish from the previous days’ catch in there, so it was only the last day’s catch that was not frozen. So, I mixed the frozen fish with the chilled fish, carefully weighed the fish so I could get the two box weights right at the 50 lb limit, and taped up each box. I sort of limit my friends’ and family’s take home of fish to one box each. I don’t even know if anyone has asked for more than that. I know it irks locals to see boxes upon boxes of fish leaving their waters with non-residents – many asking how much fish can a person eat in a year, are these fish being sold or bartered, etc – so I try to do my part to be modest.

We loaded up and headed out for the ferry about 6 am. We stopped for the obligatory coffee (Clay got chocolate milk) and donuts at Black Bear store and chit-chatted all the way to Hollis. The boys were soon checked in and said they were boarding the ferry. We said our goodbyes, and I headed home.

When I got back, I went over to get the fish in Brian’s freezer, now that I had room in mine. The fish from his freezer were frozen solid. Huh. When I got home and started filling the freezer, I noticed something: the plug for the freezer on the floor! A power source plug from a radio on a cabinet had fallen yesterday when I was moving things around, but I didn’t notice it had unplugged the freezer on its way to the floor. Mystery solved.

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