Got to Craig on Sunday after a hectic few days in Juneau for Salvation Army duty. Sara did a great job organizing the place when she was here on her own at Christmas.

Ellen said she’d take me bear hunting, and when I said I’d rather just get meat from a hunter who only wanted the hide, she found me some. It showed up just a few hours later when I was talking to Howard in his garage/taxidermy shop. The friends brought their hide for processing to Howard after Ellen had sealed it, and then we drove over to my shed to hang the meat. I was expecting an in tact carcass but they had already quartered it and all we had to do was put the meat in game bags and hang it up. They had taken beautiful care of it. The dad from Utah was happy to get some maple syrup from me. Andrew will be pleased with the meat. I let the meat hang to cool for a perfectly competitive cool weather day and sent it up on Ak Seaplanes this morning.

I got up early the yesterday and went king salmon fishing after Mike told me he had a good bite the morning before when I dropped him off some maple syrup. The drag is close to the ramp, so a good shakedown for the boat.

I didn’t get fishing till just before 6, and over the next few hours I didn’t see any of the other boats there catch a fish. Just after the low tide change, I got one on. When it came to the net I couldn’t tell if it was the minimum 28 inches or not, and breathed a sigh of relief when it was just a hair over. I fished awhile longer and saw no more fish caught so headed home. I still had to get my launch ramp sticker.

When I went to city hall, I knew the woman behind the counter. She’d helped us do a clam survey for adfg years ago, and was kind of a shy but really smart kid. She seemed like she’d shaken the shyness. When I asked her what she was doing, I was floored when she said she was the new city planner for Craig. It made my whole day. Even more than catching a king.

This morning after I shipped the bear meat, I took the king out of the fridge and sliced the fillets the long way into strips, then cut them to length for canning half pints. I put them in a 9 cup water to one cup salt brine for 10 minutes, along with the fins and backbone. I put them in the colendar to drain, and then wire brushed the smoker racks. I was just barely able to fit all the pieces on the 4 little racks, but I made it. Now to cure dry, with a little smoke later on, then pressure can. A satisfying chore for this rainy day.

Got to help out the Salvation Army major here the past several days. It’s the 100th year anniversary of the Salvation Army here in Juneau. The local corps put on a dinner for the visiting dignitaries, and Shane, the major in the church here, is a great cook, and so rather than catering, he did the  dinner himself. He cooked 8 port shoulders all day, then I met him at the church kitchen with his kids and helped them pull the meat apart. He also made a two or 3 bean dish with bacon that was either added or already in the cans of beans. We put the beans in two big high sided trays, and the pork meat in another two trays, and then put them in the fridge.

The next day a few hours before the dinner, we put the beans and pork in a 350 degree oven to reheat it. We turned the contents every 20 minutes or so. When we got down to 30 minutes to meal time, I cranked up the heat to about 400 as I was worried we weren’t getting warm enough, and by 30 min later, everything was great.

Then today we had an afternoon event at the Douglas Pavilion ball fields area. I was to cook 500 hot dogs to give away out of the Salvation Army canteen RV we used up in Haines during the landslide disaster a year and a half ago. Shane ran me through how to do it before hand. I mean, this stuff isn’t heart surgery, but if you haven’t cooked 500 hot dogs to serve before, the advice was most welcome.

I got going about 4 hours ahead of time. I filled both my pressure cooker pots about half full of water and put them on the stove. Then I got the hot dogs from the army kitchen refrigerator, and started unpackaging all the hot dogs. When the water in the pots began to boil, I filled them with hot dogs until the water was near the top, and I put the lid on. I didn’t pressure cook them – just used the pots for the job.

I’d read it takes about 4 to 6 minutes to boil a hot dog. But I knew I’d put all these hot dogs into boiling water, and that cooled the water, so I started timer at 5 minute intervals, and I’d take the hot dog temperature every 5 minutes. I was shooting for 165 degrees. It took about 15 minutes to get the pot of hot dogs on the big burner up to 165 degrees, and about 20 minutes to get the pot on the smaller burner there.

Like I saw Shane do, I filled pans with boiled hot dogs after I let them drain for a short period, and put the pans in a heated oven until they were all done. Then I put the hot dogs in cambro containers, which kept the hot dogs warm til the end of the day.

Next I learned at a Salvation Army event, while there may be alot of left overs, it’s likely not much goes to waste. Among the attendees at the event were people that the Salvation Army regularly feeds, and people that help feed those who need it alongside the Salvation Army. Both of these groups know people who can use the food.

So, I started packaging up the hot dogs in groups of 12 or 24 in foil, since the rolls were 24 to a bag. That way I could hand of a pack of hot dogs with a bag or half bag of buns, and the two could be united when they were needed, and not beat up the buns by putting them all together.

Of course, there was pulled pork to be taste tested and broken hot dogs to be taste tested, so I’ve had my fill or the two for awhile. But I’m better prepared to tackle a big meal now should the need arise.

Finally got to the cabin roof repair. I took over a kid, now about 30, who I’ve known most of her life – and Sara all of her wife – to the cabin for an adventure from Port Angeles with her boyfriend. I dropped them off on Wednesday and scheduled a pickup for Thursday. I told them I’d come over prior to the rendezvous time if the weather was nice and I Paul, who was visiting from Petersburg, got on his flight back home all okay.

Everything came together on Thursday, and I got over there about 3 pm. I had a 24 foot fiberglass extension ladder with me. I learned a new trick for hauling a ladder. I wanted to try to put my shoulder through the ladder rungs and carry along my side. That sort of works, but was hard to find just the right balance point and I thought I’d just have to stop several times to rest and readjust.

Then I discovered that if I put the middle rung over my head and balanced the ladder on my two shoulders – well, it was hardly any effort at all to carry it. Once I did that, I walked all the way to the cabin without needing a breather.

The kids were there when I arrived and helped me to get ready. I put the fiberglass ladder up to the cabin eave, and the boyfriend held the ladder while I climbed up. After a few attempts to throw a line over the roof to the other side, I finally succeeded. I climbed down, then put the cabin aluminum ladder up a tree in the back of a cabin, and had the boyfriend hold the ladder while I climbed up with the other end of the rope I’d thrown over. I tied it up high on the tree with a clove hitch, and two extra half hitches, to serve as my anchor.

I put on the fall protection harness Bob loaned me, dumped a bunch of roofing screws into my hoodie pocket,  then climbed up the front ladder again with the bag containing more screws, the screw gun and extra batteries. I threaded the safety rope through the harness stopper, brought the rope tight, hung the bag on the ladder, put the screw gun inside my hoodie, and tentatively climbed on the roof. I brought the rope tight.  It felt good and secure and gave me some confidence. I climbed up to the peak.

The half of the ridge cap that was hanging down the roof was held on by a single screw. The other half had about half the screws missing. I felt like I’d got up there to do the repair just in time.

The original roofer had screwed down the ridge cap to every other peak on the roofing. I screwed the ridge cap piece that was off to every peak of the roofing on either side, then continued to do the same on the ridge cap still in place. By now I’d been bracing myself at a 60 degree or so angle for awhile, and the backs of legs were getting a little jello-y. I saw I could replace some screws here and there on the roofing that were jacked up, but decided I’d quit while I was ahead. I backed down the roof, letting the safety line out as I moved down, and felt a sense of relief when my boot felt the first rung below the roof eave.

We then untied the safety line, and went inside the cabin in the warmth of the spring sun and I had a Genesee Creme Ale left over from last year while the two of them split a micro brew they’d brought from Oregon.

A good day and the ridge cap should be good for another 30 years.

Well, it’s been awhile, but time to fill the woodshed. April and spring weather is here. We got our first sprinkles in a couple weeks today.

I built the wood shed last summer. It was my first real woodshed. Prior attempts were piling wood on pallets with tarps over the top, and that was certainly hit and miss for good wood drying.

We used wood from about exactly half the woodshed this winter, so unbeknownst to me, the shed seems like the perfect size. I should be able to dry wood for a year and a half before I use it.

I got out my saws. Both are Stihls. One is an 028 my dad bought me when I came to Alaska in 1983. The other I bought from Ron when he left town – an 041. It’s older than the 028, I assume, since it has no chain brake like the 028 has. It took about 10 pulls for each saw, and each sprang to life. Amazing. They’ve been sitting for at least a year, maybe 2.

The chains were in various degrees of dullness. I have bought about every type of sharpening device ever made, and I still cannot sharpen a chain very well. It’s one outdoorsman skill I have not mastered, along with sharpening a knife on a stone. I took the chains out to Don Abel, where the manager is the best chain sharpener I’ve ever been around. That was a week ago. Like most businesses, they are short handed. And this is thatching season. Which I didn’t know. They are busy renting and rerenting thatching machines like crazy. So no time yet as of today to sharpen my chains.

So, I stopped by Tyler Rental with the 041, and the tech lined me out with a new chain. He asked several questions I didn’t really know- like did I want an aggressive chain?  I had him explain what these terms met. In the end, he said the standard chain was best for me. So the standard chain, it is.

I got home, and put the new chain on the bar. Managed to knick myself on the finger with the chain. Dang, they are sharp out of the box.

I took the saw up to the wood pile, along with my 16″ inch stick and some chalk. I moved a couple logs into position with the peevee, marked out my cuts on a couple logs like my dad showed me with the stick and chalk, then cleaned where the saw would cut with my heavy gloves, either removing bark or sweeping any sand or stones away.

I put on my ear muffs with face screen, my heavy leather gloves, and cranked up the saw.

I was careful to only cut part way through each log, then roll it and cut through the top. I’m alot more careful now than in my younger years to keep the chain sharp. Especially knowing I suck at trying to sharpen one.

I had bucked up several logs when Bob showed up. I shut down the saw, and we caught up. He was just back from working in Bethel. When I told him of my chain woes, he said he had a sharpener and could make the chains razor sharp. Why do good friends keep secrets like this?  I’m guessing he’s told me this in the past- maybe even shown me the sharpening unit- but I just forgot. That seems to happen more and more these days.

After Bob left, I split several rounds, and made two trips with cart loads of wood downhill about 25 yards to the woodshed, and tossed them in. The cart is a rubbermaid cart that Bob and I found on the beach when we went hooter hunting several years ago. It’s hands down the best cart or wheelbarrow I’ve ever owned. Takes a heavy load, rolls easily, and easy to maneuver.

As I was finishing stacking the two loads, Kurt showed up. Then Sara right behind him. So we went in and had coffee.

When Kurt left, I decided to try tipping the rounds into the the cart, hauling them whole down to the shed, then splitting them there and tossing them in. I moved about 5 big rounds and many smaller ones down to the shed. Only one big round would fit in the cart at a time, so it took several trips.

I split the small rounds, then several of the large rounds til my arms and shoulders had had enough, tossed them into the shed, and then stacked them. I think I like this method best.

I’ll chip away at the logs till the shed is full, at which time I always feel a sense of accomplishment, but also a sense of sort of sadness, since I enjoy splitting wood about as much as any activity I do, and when I finish, it will be another year before I do it again.

I scored a free working propane smoker on Craigslist. I fired it up, and it all seems in working order.

I took out 2 big bags of moose pieces to make jerky. Sara found some ancient bottles of marinade we bought at Costco. I picked one, and cut up the moose and put them in the marinade for an over night soak in the fridge.

It’s now 8 pm and I’m sitting here looking out our window on North Douglas Highway watching 4 mountain goats across Gastineau Channel feeding on the mountainside above town. They look ravenous feeding on whatever they are finding.

It’s in the 40’s.  I cross country skied Montana Creek trail today. I was the lone skier. Lots of pine needles on the trail, but the needles did not seem to impede my skiing. Still lots of snow. Maybe 2 more weeks of skiing.

When I got out to the end of the 3 km trail, I paused to listen. And there they were. Hooters booming from the hills across the valley.

I didn’t regret bringing a gun or snowshoes to go after them. They were farther away than I was willing to hike.

As I close in on 60,  hearing them is as fulfilling as harvesting them. Maybe more so.

At about 445 pm, I got the phone number of my old friend from Cuba, NY, Ozzie. I came to Alaska with him, Scott and Bob on 1983.

I texted him first to see if he was up as it was 4 hours later in NY state. He was. And then I called and he picked up before the first ring ended.

We hadn’t talked for 30? years. He sounded the same now as we did when we were both about 20 when we drove up to Fairbanks in 1983. And we talked like we hadn’t talked for a week, and not 30 years.  One of those people in your life that you shared a life changing event.

So good to talk to him. Maybe he’ll come see us next year.