We arrived home the evening of the opening day of a 5-day personal-use king crab fishery. One pot per vessel allowed. Limit of one crab per household. If you thought these restrictions would limit the number of participants, you would be wrong. Everybody and his brother goes out, especially this time of year when deer hunting is mostly over and salmon fishing is six months away.

The fishery is usually a group affair. Since the limit is one per household, the skipper calls friends, and each boat often has members of several households in hopes of sharing the catch. Many of us also take proxy permits for friends 65 years or older, allowing us to keep a crab for them if they can’t join.

I got my permit and a proxy permit for Jeff and Terry right away. I went with my friend Nick to check his pot. Strong winds were forecast, but luckily Nick had set his pot near town in calm waters. There were three crabs in the pot—enough for each of us. I then set my own pot near Nick’s for another chance at crab.

Later, I delivered Jeff and Terry’s crab. Jeff was thrilled. Last year, he hesitated to let me take his proxy permit, but this year, there was no argument. He even brought crab to his son Nick in Seattle, leading to a hilarious text about Jeff’s shucking skills needing improvement.

The next day, Bob, Chris M., and Kurt joined me. I set a pot Jeff had given me but didn’t check the line thoroughly. It snapped, and the pot sank. Thankfully, biodegradable twine ensures the pot will stop ghost fishing eventually. Still, it was a frustrating mistake.

On the final day, Bob, Kurt, Andrew, Sam, and Dorothy joined me. We set another pot in a promising spot. However, the pot was configured for shrimp, with covers over the crab gates. Needless to say, no crab could enter. A snail and hermit crab were the only catches, which Dorothy enjoyed examining before releasing them.

The adults on the boat know me well and weren’t surprised by the outcome. They seemed to enjoy the experience regardless, adding another story to share during our next gathering.

I went to Hawaii, island of Kauai, for my first time this past 2 weeks. I went with Sara, her sister and sister’s husband, and our two nieces and their husbands. We went to spread Sara’s younger sister Jane’s ashes, as Hawaii was her happy place.

I didn’t know what to expect, really. I thought it would be crowded beaches with tourists everywhere. Kind of like Juneau in the summer. Boy, was I wrong. Most beaches had few people, and the beach adjoining the house we rented was used by mostly local people as best we could tell.

I was immediately struck by how remote the islands are. Alaska has always seemed remote, but not this remote. We flew about as far west from Seattle as I would fly east to go to New York State, over nothing but ocean, and then there are these islands. People found these not all that long ago in human history, without GPS or even rudimentary navigation tools. Maybe they could read the stars and sun and moon to navigate. But how did they know where they were going? Amazing, really.

I was a bit tentative swimming or snorkeling in the ocean surf until we went out on a snorkel charter. I hadn’t been snorkeling since I was a kid, and hadn’t done much swimming since then, really, either. The snorkel charter gave me a good refresher for swimming and snorkeling. After that, I went down our beach to some quiet water almost every day until we left and snorkeled in an area that was not over my head anywhere I swam. I saw all kinds of beautiful tropical fish, and usually saw new ones I hadn’t seen each day. I saw sea turtles there, too. Now I had something I enjoyed doing every day, as traveling to a different beach to sit in the sun has never been my thing. Plus, I burn easy. Sara got sun most every day in the yard.

Fishing Charter

We also went on a fishing charter. We were scheduled to go on a Wednesday, but the winds were too big to go. Weather there really is sort of wind or no wind. Not rain or no rain. Or cold or warm. It’s not cold. And rains were intermittent, cooled things off a bit, and sort of not a thing for rainforest dwellers like us. We rescheduled to the following Monday, which meant half the crew couldn’t go, but decided that was best since it was the first calm day in the forecast.

We headed to a small harbor near Lihue. We went for an afternoon of fishing. We met our boat, about a 30′ charter boat with twin diesels, with the people aboard who fished in the morning, and the crew was cleaning their catch. Out of nowhere, a big shark – 6+ feet anyway, I’d guess – porpoised to eat some of the fish remains pitched over. The crew thought it was a Galapagos shark, which I’d never heard of.

The four of us boarded and soon knew we were going to have a good time because the captain and deckhand were easygoing, good friends with each other, and lots of fun. We decided to troll awhile for pelagic fish like tuna and marlin, then fish on the bottom at the end of the trip. We started trolling right as we left the harbor and fished along an uninhabited coast. The land was for sale for 80 million dollars, and we watched a George Clooney movie (The Descendants) when we got back, on the advice of the boat crew, that explained the family ownership of the land, sort of.

We trolled at about 8 knots in a swell with big squid-looking baits right at the surface. They hadn’t caught any pelagics for several weeks, but we were happy to try. Then it happened. A fish was on. I got the rod since this was my birthday charter. I got into the fighting chair and started the work yarding in the fish on the heaviest gear I’ve ever fished. After about 5 minutes, I got the fish to the boat, and the deckhand gaffed it aboard. A skipjack tuna. I had to admit, it was smaller than I thought it would be based on how hard it was to get aboard, but it was a nice fish. We trolled back towards the harbor and caught no more. We tried bottom fishing the last hour. We caught a nice gray snapper, which the crew said was among the best eating fish. We had tacos made from both fish, and both were great eating, especially with the nice avocados and other local vegetables. Sara made ceviche with the snapper as well, but I didn’t try that. I snorkeled each day the next 2 days until we left Wednesday evening.

We had an all-day layover in Seattle. Gail picked us up and we napped at her house after taking a print Sara left at Gail’s once upon a time to air freight to send to Juneau. I arranged to meet my Peace Corps friend Dan for lunch. Sara and I met him and his girlfriend and his son and had a great time.

We got home in the evening, and Kurt was there to retrieve us as always. No sleep sounder than the first one in your own bed after a long time away.

Just back from this year’s deer hunt. Nick, Amanda, and I planned to hunt the outer coast out of the tug, but the wind forecast for the next week was so severe that running the boat myself and actually getting to the hunting spots we imagined wasn’t going to happen. So, we regrouped and decided to go to our cabin in Craig. It would be their first time hunting together since Amanda was mauled by a brown bear a little over a month ago while she and Nick were hunting on Admiralty Island near Juneau. Amanda seemed fully recovered, except for some lingering recovery with her hand.

We hunted for the week, in the best week of deer hunting weather I can ever remember: clear and in the 20s°F every day. It was a little windy the first day, but we quickly learned not to hunt spots directly in the wind. I’d drop the two of them off at a spot, travel to a protected anchorage, anchor the skiff, and hunt that area myself.

The first day, they hunted a spot that is usually good, but it was windy. I went to a new area. I hunted an east-west muskeg, then moved up a north-south muskeg. I didn’t see a thing. I decided to cut back through the woods to the first muskeg, making a triangle track for the day. In a little valley with a creek sheltered from the wind, I blew the call. A doe immediately appeared, staying out of the wind. No buck followed, but at least I saw a deer. When I picked up Nick and Amanda, they said they had hiked all over the good deer spots and saw nothing because the wind was howling.

The next day, we hunted an area I don’t think I’d ever been to. I thought it would be out of the wind. We followed the same routine, with them hunting a big area and me a smaller one. It was another clear day, and we were indeed out of the wind, but the ridge that blocked the wind also blocked the morning sun, leaving the muskeg cold. I called at the beach end of the muskeg—nothing. Moving to the ridge end, I called again and heard snow crunching. It sounded like a deer was approaching behind me, but then I saw it in front. It was strange how the sound carried. A doe came within 30 yards, checked me out, and kept going. She didn’t return to later calls, and no buck showed. The partners didn’t see anything either, despite covering a lot of country.

Amanda took day three off, so Nick and I hunted together. We went to the spot I hunted on day one. I stayed with him at the first muskeg, then sent him ahead since he could cover more ground than I could on my bum hip. Midday, I heard a shot—hopefully Nick’s. I got to the beach early, pulled the boat to shore, loaded my gear, and waited. Right on time, Nick arrived with a 3-point buck’s rack poking from his pack. He had called it from timber near a muskeg. A doe came first, followed by the buck, which stopped behind a tree. Nick kept the doe coming, and when the buck emerged, he took the shot. The doe stayed with the downed buck—a behavior I hadn’t seen before. Nick dressed and skinned the deer on-site, bringing back quarters, neck, ribs, backstraps, and tenderloins. His pack was heavy, and I wondered if I could still carry one of these big bucks out myself. I was probably happier than Nick, as seeing family succeed brings me the most joy now.

The winds picked up as we returned. We battled two- to three-footers back to town. At the boat launch, the False Island docks were rolling with three-foot seas. It took both of us to tie up the boat and trailer it out. Yikes. The forecast called for even stronger winds the next day. Amanda took her day off to have lunch with an old friend in town and learn about his wolf research.

Nick and I butchered the deer the following day while Ellen took Amanda hunting on the road system. They saw no deer but plenty of tracks and had fun. That evening, we watched episodes of Alone. It was season 10, the first Amanda and Nick had seen. I’ve watched every season, but we all enjoyed it together. The Starlink I installed earlier this year was great—especially since you can turn it on and off for remote cabins like this without an annual contract. For now, at least.

Ellen invited us to dinner for deer soup, but it turned into fresh king salmon on the grill, caught by Brian and his pilot friend that day. Brian’s brother and his wife joined us, bringing their own salmon dip to complement ours. We brought salad, and together we had a fantastic meal with lots of hunting conversation.

As the winds eased, we decided to hunt a distant spot where family and friends have had success in the past. I dropped Nick and Amanda at a promising location while I hunted a secluded muskeg. The sun was out, and the winds were calm. I didn’t see any deer, but the exercise and sunshine left me feeling better than I had in a while. Nick and Amanda also saw nothing, but the beautiful weather made the deerless days more bearable. The frozen ground was easy to walk on, and the crisp temperatures in the 20s°F made for perfect hiking conditions.

On the last day, Nick and Amanda wanted to revisit the spot where Nick got his buck and then cruise beaches as the tide fell. While they hunted, I put hand troll gear on the skiff and fished one of my favorite drags. I almost landed what I think was a king salmon and released a small lingcod. At noon, I picked them up; they had seen no deer but were eager to explore the beaches. We spotted one deer that retreated into the woods before we could identify it and another doe that emerged when they used the call.

As we headed home, my fuel gauge—always reading full—deceived me. The engine quit, likely because the tank’s pickup tube wasn’t reaching the remaining fuel. After trying unsuccessfully to fix it, Amanda called Ellen, and Brian came to the rescue. We drifted near town for an hour before Brian arrived, towing us back to the dock at dusk. His preparedness and skill made the process seamless, and we couldn’t thank him enough.

The next morning, clouds rolled in after a week of sunshine. A winter storm watch was in effect for Juneau. On the way to the airport, icy roads made for a nerve-wracking drive. I fishtailed on black ice and crawled at 30 mph to make it safely. The flight home was smooth, and now I’m processing the deer Nick gave me. It’s funny—I used to give away the deer when I was their age. Hopefully, Nick and Amanda will want to join me again for more adventures.

We brought the boat back from Craig this week. We caught a 3 day window of good weather between two blows. We left Craig on Wednesday morning. Our friends Peter and Nevette from Petersburg came to town to make the journey with us.

We left Craig about 830 am and headed north to El Capitan Passage. We had fair seas all the way to Calder Bay, just past the big limestone mine, and anchored at dark, about 630 pm. Sara made a dish with moose and coleslaw for dinner.

Next morning we left just before sunrise at 630 am and headed to Rocky Pass. Sumner Strait had a small chop as we made the 4 hour trip to the pass entrance. We saw several seine and other boats anchored in the area moose hunting, but luckily did not need to pass any vessels while we transited the pass. I followed my track on the gps from my trip south with Joe in May, and was somewhat taken aback that my track at one point went right through a little rockpile island. Not sure how that happens, but I learned to trust your eyes first, and electronics second.

We got through the pass without incident, and only a marginal pucker factor. We saw a blow was coming Friday night, so we ran right until dark again, making it across Frederick Sound to a little anchorage in a bull kelp patch I found on the chart at the entrance to Pybus Bay behind an island with a single row of spruce trees. I hoped from here we could run to Juneau before the storm hit the next day. It was a calm anchorage. The skies cleared off overnight and everyone remarked at the big starry sky they say when each of us got up at some point to pee.

I was up before daylight, pulled the anchor, and we were on our way at 615 am in the false dawn light. Stephens Passage had a slight northerly chop, and we had a hard time even making 6 knots much of the day. We must have been running at exactly the wrong time for the tide, but that’s how it goes. As the day cleared out, the sun came out, the winds calmed, and we rode glassy seas.

We saw many humpback whales along the way. They looked like they were on their fall migration to Hawaii, as they were mostly moving in groups and not feeding. We got quite a breaching show by a couple of whales that were in sight of each other. One would breach, and then the other would breach. Then one would slap its pectoral fin, and then the other would do the same.

We traveled from Pybus Bay all the way to Taku Inlet before we saw a single boat. Whew. Cruise ship season is over.

As we entered Gastineau Channel, the winds had changed around to southerly and increasing, as forecast. Now we had a slight following sea chop propelling us along the last 2 hours of the trip. We made the best time of the day the last 12 miles or so to town, and got in a little ahead of my estimated arrival time. Just as we walked our gear up the ramp to the parking lot, the winds started to blow. We got home just in time.

Chris and his son in law Phil came in for a week from Mississippi and Atlanta. The first day was a blow with heavy rain, so we went to Coffman Cove to the hamburger stand. The next day was calm seas and we headed out fishing. The boys enjoyed lots of whales, as they would every day. We fished near town, and scratched 2 cohos. The boys went beach combing at the anchorage and found a 4 point antler shed and sea asparagus. The next day we landed one coho and lost 2 nice ones. I set the skate at the honey hole. At the anchorage, the boys found a fork horn shed and abundant red huckleberry.

The next morning, we checked the skate. Nothing. I was starting to sweat. Would we rally as we always had and find some fish or was the coho run over?  We rallied. It actually seemed like slow fishing, but we were hooking up on each pass around the drag. We landed seven coho and lost several others.

We reset the skate and anchored nearby. The boys went to the beach while I got dinner ready. Tonight was the salmon frames – the meat left along the backbone after filleting each side. I pan fried them in butter. The boys picked it up and weren’t real sure about it, but after a few bites, they finished their plates and had seconds.

I was up before dawn the next morning. I put the coffee on to boil, and did stretches for my hip. When the coffee was ready, I sipped coffee and saw dawn approaching. The boys were up with the sun.

We checked the skate and nothing again. It was flat calm. I asked them if they wanted to fish for chicken halibut, as now was the time with no wind, or did they want to go back for coho. Halibut was the choice.

We were soon at the chicken hole. Phillip’s first retrieve was a double!  Four fish left to catch. It took a couple hours more, but we got there. I showed them how to fillet halibut, then left them to it while I powered up to the coho drag.

An hour later we were coho fishing. We dragged to the corner, then all the way back up the drag. Nothing. We were the only boat there. I wasn’t sure if that was because charter boats came in early and got nothing, or chartering was done.

Inclement weather was coming, so we headed for the harbor. Dinner at the cabin was panko crusted halibut with potato fries and coleslaw. It was the boys first ever meal of halibut, and they were impressed.

The next day was their last day in town. I’d let the boys decide if they wanted to fish in the pouring rain, or relax. Then serendipity set it. My brother in law asked if we wanted to go see a dead whale with some scientists he was taking to collect samples. From the sounds of it, it would be a quick trip of a couple hours. But I knew better.  The boys were excited to go. I warned them it might be all day, and to dress for the weather.

We headed out with 2 veterinarians and a veterinary tech, my brother in law, and another Craig resident who was friends of the vet crew and whose father had found the whale. As we headed out, one of the vets started to give a safety briefing. We were being conscripted as volunteers on their sampling crew! Exciting.

The whale was on the beach right around the corner from where we’d been coho fishing. A 33 feet sub adult male humpback. This was my first time to see a whale up close on a beach. The first time to touch one. The long white pectoral fins. The eye. The nine foot wide tail. The pleats on the lower jaw that stretch back 3/4 of the length of the animal. The whale barnacles. The whale had not been there long, so was largely fresh.
The vets started right in on looking over the whale for signs of injury. They pointed out some marks that looked like propeller marks. I saw next to the propeller marks scraping that looked like the keel of a boat.

After the initial assessment, the vets soon had all of us helping them to cut or bag samples. My brother in law cut out a sample of the jaw and baleen. Chris took photos at the vets direction. I helped the other vet bag samples of various tissues and fluids. The other Craig resident removed an eye. We were all focused on the work as we kept working against the rising tide, but I was able to look up once in a while to acknowledge we were in the mist on a wilderness island examining a whale. In Alaska. A place that still holds my being.

As the morning turned into early afternoon, the flood tide was nearing the whale. The crew started to cut into the blubber and down to the muscle. They pulled back blocks of blubber with gaffs around the boiler room of the whale. Soon we saw it – a spot of large bruising in the muscle. Just like a deer shows after being shot or hit by a car. The whale looked to me like it didn’t die of natural causes.

When the tide had us scurried up to the tide line and the whale was mostly floating, we retreated with the gear and boarded the boat. We were able to turn the whale over now by pulling on one pectoral fin with the boat, and the vets were able to get one last sample: blow hole fluid from the top of the whale. We left the whale to rest. The island he was on has no bears. I’m not sure if the wolves on the island will eat the whale or leave it to birds, crabs, and other carrion consumers. The boys from Mississippi were almost in a trance at getting to participate in this once in a lifetime experience and had smiles a mile wide. They left the next morning with a wealth of stories to tell.

Chris and Phil are the 10th group of friends here this summer. Tom and Sarah have already confirmed their return, and my friends Al and Don are coming too. It’s been a prosperous summer and I’m ready for a few days of catch-up before trying for some deer.

Ken and his buddy Lawren arrived in their own rental car from Ketchikan. A first for my visitors. Lawren is in his early 80’s, and Ken his late 70s. Both spry and still fishing as often as they can.

The first big blow of the season came that night, and the next day was too windy and rainy to fish. We headed across the island to Coffman Cove to the famous burger stand. The boys were not disappointed for dinner. Counted 30+ deer along the road on the way home.

Ken was one of my early friends and mentors in Juneau. We both liked canning and smoking seafood, and Ken taught me about digging clams. His youngest daughter Lisa helped me sell fish during high school, and was a great help. I’d see the last of the family left in town, his middle daughter Claire, at Mudrooms, the monthly storytelling event, over the winters in Juneau.

Lawren grew up north of Edmonton on a Lake, where his family had a mink farm and commercial fished on the lake. They also trapped. How cool is that.

We got out on Monday bright and early. Ken is a notorious anti-early riser, so I I rushed the boys out the door and said we’d get our second cups of coffee on the boat.   We walked the green mile to the boat and were soon underway.

We headed for the nearby drag for coho, and put the gear out. Lots of whales around. We caught nothing. Maybe a few of these unknown rockfish looking fish we’ve recently run in to, which we released. I found out by the end of the drag the boys would rather fish for whitefish, since they planned to fish for salmon during their week in Juneau after they left here. So change of plans.

Luckily, the wind was light enough that we could go try the spot I discovered when Pat and Sean were here. It’s too deep for me to want to anchor there in nearly 300 feet, so the wind has to be light enough that you can get your gear down to the bottom. We were soon into chicken halibut, and the boys were giddy. Then some big Pacific cod, and the happiness increased. By mid afternoon, we had enough for the day. I headed to the anchorage while the boys cleaned the fish.

The boys were tuckered out by the time they finished cleaning fish. I brought the salmon cream sauce pasta leftovers from Jesse’s trip, and heated that up for an early dinner. The boys made short work of it. It’s one of those dishes that might be better the second or third day, but needs to be hot to be at its best. We spent the late afternoon telling stories and turned in early that evening.

On Tuesday, we went back to the same spot, as the wind was again favorable. The boys soon had several halibut. We decided to try another spot that might have bigger fish, and also was near the kelp and oyster farm of my friend. Ken was once the ADFG permitting lead for mariculture farms, so was interested to see it. We caught a yelloweye rockfish we had to return. We rigged a deep water release for it, but the fish was so big with so much buoyancy that we had to add several more little cannon ball sinkers to take it to the bottom. One more chicken halibut and we headed for the harbor. The boys had all the white fish they needed.

The boys cleaned the fish on the way to the harbor. We tied up in the harbor. I hooked up my hose to the freshwater on the dock, and we got to skinning, rinsing, portioning and bagging the fish for the freezer. We finished in about an hour, tidied up the boat, and headed for home.

I told the boys to relax while I got the fish into the freezer. They both had worked hard reeling up fish from 280 feet, then cleaning them all. They sipped on some red wine.

Ken mentioned in passing on the boat that he missed eating venison. After putting the fish on racks in the freezer,  I pulled out packages of moose  and black tail deer. When Ken asked if we should order pizza for dinner, I said no. I had a surprise dinner in store for them. I’d bought salad at the store on the way home, and topped that with a jar of sea asparagus I canned earlier in the summer, along with some Parmesan cheese, while the venison defrosted in the microwave. I pulled the meat when it was still mostly frozen so I could cut narrow steaks. I seasoned the pieces and put them out to thaw. Then we all took naps for about an hour and a half. I got up and cut most of the little bag of small red potatoes I bought with the salad, brushed on olive oil, and put them in the toaster oven to roast. When the potatoes were about 5 minutes from being done, I quick fried the venison steaks like Bob showed me so long ago now it seems in Ketchikan.

The boys awoke hungry, and obviously enjoyed their dinner. It had been some time since either had eaten venison. Their offspring are not hunters, and they were getting up there in age and not able to hunt like they used to. That made the meal more gratifying for me. I see that day coming myself.

I awoke at 3 am on Wednesday to vac pack their fish and weigh them for luggage. Ken popped his head in about 4 am. He’s got COVID, he said. His first time!  Lawren does, too. Not his first time. Second group this year that’s had it, and like the first one, not sure if they brought it with or caught it here. I had it last month from the first group so hopefully I’ve got the antibodies helping me.