Had Jesse here the past few days. He is the husband of one of Sara’s early students, Hanni, who is like our niece. She knows this because I gave her my prized possession—a Swiss Army knife with all the gadgets—when she left for the Peace Corps. The knife was given to me by a Japanese dentist at Wood River Lodge who could not break me of my habit of cutting my fishing line knots with my teeth. Hanni met Jesse in the Peace Corps in Guyana. And of course, he’s known as Jesse the Body in our household, after my favorite professional wrestler and governor.

Jesse came over on the ferry. I thought we’d go right on the boat that evening, but it was raining and foggy, so we started first thing the next morning. We were on our way to my outer fishing drags when we saw a pile of charter boats in a cove where I’ve fished before, but never caught anything. We dragged around there for several hours and got 3 nice cohos and a small one. We went on to one of the favorite drags, but not much—just a pink and a rockfish, which we released.

We went back the way we came so I could set the two-hook halibut skate. We anchored right next to the set location, near a favorite deer hunting spot. Jesse enjoyed a paddle in the Tucktec folding kayak while I made venison over salad for dinner. Loving this kayak—super light and seems to handle well.

The next morning, we were up early to check the skate, as I was wary after we almost lost the last two to sand fleas. As soon as the skate line was picked up, there was a nice halibut tugging away. When it came up to the boat, I saw the circle hook wasn’t all the way through the jaw, but somehow it was solid. I got the fish around to the swim step, got the harpoon through the jaw, and that was it. I stunned it a few times, then cut a gill, and we relaxed for a while to let the fish bleed.

The big fish came up through the swim step and onto the deck just fine. We measured it—68 inches. When we looked up the weight from the length in the tide book, it came out to 160 lbs. Dang.

I described to Jesse how to fillet the big fish, and he got to it while I motored to one of the favorite king salmon spots near the outside. By the time we got there an hour later, the halibut was filleted into the four big pieces and onto the frozen water bottles in the cooler.

We lost a nice fish at the king spot, and then nothing the rest of the day. We fished all the way around the island. With 80 lbs of halibut meat in the cooler, we decided to head to town to take care of it, and run out closer to town the next day.

We tied up to the harbor dock, hooked up the hose to the water hydrant, and got to work. We tag-teamed skinning the big fillets. Then I portioned them, and the portions went into the first rinse bucket. When that was full, I took the fillet portions out, rinsed them again, and put them into the colanders to drain. When all the portions were well drained, we each took a Costco yogurt container with the bottom cut off and a cut up the side, and used these to insert into the vac-pack bags to keep moisture off the top of the bag that gets vac-packed. We slid the portions down through the container into the bags.

We loaded the bags into clean buckets, and when we had them all ready, we loaded them into the collapsible cart and walked the green mile from transient moorage up to the parking lot. We drove to my in-laws and borrowed their freezer to freeze the fish in the open bags overnight.

The next morning, we were up and going at 5:30 am. We fished close to town that day as that’s where we caught the fish on the first day. We dropped the gear along the Prince of Wales Island shore across from the cabin at a regular king salmon drag. We lost our first strike, which looked like another nice fish. We fished the drag all the way to the corner and caught 5 nice cohos.

We crossed over to an island and put our gear in there on Mikey’s advice. We saw a cruiser come up and drop their gear not far in front of us, so we figured this must be the place. The cruiser was a local boat, and turned out to be run by a good friend of my in-laws. She was on the kicker tiller, and her young crew was mooching. We trolled around them. We caught 2 nice cohos trolling, and they caught many more than us mooching.

We called it quits a little after 4 and headed home. Back at the dock, we did the same program as with the halibut. I cut off fins and the head, then Jesse filleted and portioned. Then I spooned off burger that was left along the backbone after Jesse filleted. We loaded up the bagged salmon and walked the green mile back to the truck.

We picked up our halibut from the night before and got to vac-packing in the shed. I got the battery-operated radio from the bunkhouse to listen to the Democratic Convention in Chicago on KRBD, where Sara was in attendance.

When the halibut was done, we started in on the salmon. Then we weighed out the fish so we could get Jesse’s box packed quickly in the morning.

When we were done, I put pasta to cook in the instant pot and started the cream sauce with the salmon burger, red onion, a little sea asparagus, some leftover artichoke antipasto, butter, and the rest of the milk left from the Morgans. When it cooked down, I added a little pancake mix flour to thicken it. When the pasta was done, I added it to the sauce. Jesse and I both had seconds.

Brian and Ellen bought me a Big Chief smoker for Christmas. I’d used my home-built smoker to smoke salmon for canning, which is a bit easier to do than hot smoking, since all you’re trying to do is get a nice pellicle (outer sort of hard layer of skin on the flesh) and smoke flavor. You don’t want it to finish drying and smoking on the inside. The canning will finish the cooking process and then some.

Hot smoking is both the nice pellicle on the outside and cooked all the way through on the inside. It’s been a long time since I hot smoked salmon, and my past attempts were edible but not consistent, I’d say. Kevin makes great smoked king salmon in the same kind of smoker, so I asked him for advice. He uses a 2:1 brown sugar to salt dry brine, brines the fish 6 to 8 hours (or overnight), dries it for 8 hours till it’s shiny and tacky on the outside, then smokes it about 4 hours. Howard added advice to use a meat thermometer so you can take off pieces that are done while leaving thicker pieces until they are done.

Paul’s birthday (Feb 29—only happens every 4 years) and the day he passed away (Aug 1—opening day of deer season) are easy to remember. Smoking fish seemed like a good activity to remember him. So the night before his passing date, I started.

I didn’t have brown sugar, so used white sugar instead. I mostly had large king salmon steaks, as that’s how I like to cook king salmon. I thawed the fish in water in the sink and mixed the brine. I coated the first piece of fish with brine and put it in the bottom of a bowl. I coated the next pieces in the brine and layered them on or around the pieces below till all the fish was coated in the bowl. I left the fish in the brine overnight, monitoring as the brine became liquid, and moved pieces around so they stayed coated. I freshened the fish the next morning (i.e., rinsed it repeatedly in freshwater) to remove some of the salt so the product isn’t too salty. I hung the rack over the dehumidifier and in front of an open window for drying.

I called Tyler and Nevette on FaceTime or whatever it’s called, and Steve on the cell phone. All of us knew what today was and each was glad someone called to talk about Paul. We all miss him.

After about 6 hours of drying, the fish looked ready for the smoker.

I put the fish on the racks, with the thickest pieces on the bottom rack and the thinnest on the top rack. There are 5 racks, and I had 4 racks’ worth of fish, so I didn’t put anything on the lowest rack nearest the heat.

I used the alder wood shavings that came with the smoker for the first round of wood in the pan on the heating element, then used alder sticks I’ve gathered from our land and peeled for the next 3 batches of smoke.

I tested the thickest fish pieces at 4 hours, and the gauge showed 140 degrees—just about the 145-degree target. I left the fish another half hour and pulled it out. I cracked pieces on all racks, and it all was done. I transferred the fish to a pan to cool. I tried a few pieces. Perfect! Well, that was easy. I’ll have to learn better how to monitor with the meat thermometer so I don’t overcook some pieces, but none of these looked too dry. Now eager to try smoking some more fish, which will have to wait till we catch more. (Which I did, by the way. I used 4 cups brown sugar to 3 cups salt, and it was a little less sweet, which I liked).

Also my first time picking thimbleberries. In Juneau, it seemed there was just a few berries per plant. Here in Craig and in this particular area, they are coming on like crazy. Thimbleberries are good to eat, but there is not much to them. It takes a lot of picking to make a pile. I picked for 3 or 4 times around our place. There might be 10 berries on a bush, but only one or two are ripe. I had a tad over 4 cups of mashed berries. I added 3 cups of sugar and put the mash to boil in the instant pot. From what I’ve read, thimbleberries are loaded with pectin, so no additional pectin is needed. When the mash temp was between 200 and 220 degrees, I jarred the mash. It made 7 half pints, which exactly fit in the instant pot for a 10-minute boiling water bath can. It thickened up nicely. A lot of work for 7 half pints, and it looks lovely. When I tasted it, I determined it was worth it. Some of the best-tasting jam I’ve ever made. The thimbleberries have a hint of raspberry taste, but not the big seeds of raspberries or salmonberries. This instant pot gizmo is very versatile. The more I use it, the more I like it.

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.

Tom and his grandson returned this year, this time with Grandma Sarah. Tom and Sarah are two of my closest friends. We attended extensive training for the Peace Corps together at the University of Oklahoma, then were stationed close to each other when we started our jobs in Sierra Leone. I’m the Godfather for their only daughter, which says a lot for two devoted Catholics who are very familiar with my potty mouth.

They arrived in town, and we went right to the boat and steamed to an anchorage I’d not used before. It was going to be dark by the time we got to my familiar intended anchorage. We had pizza for dinner and got settled for the week.

The next day, we fished one of my new favorite spots I learned this year, thanks to my brother-in-law. Sarah caught a big king salmon in the first 20 minutes we had the gear out. Oh boy, I thought. That’s gonna ruin her. We got 2 more kings and a coho, and a pink salmon we kept for dinner. I finally caught up to an old friend on the drag in another boat. He guides for a lodge here. He and I were out camp guides for fly-in lodges in Bristol Bay back in the 1980s. I saw him on the kicker of the boat, his clients mooching. I called out that I thought they’d put him in a home. Then called to him by name. He said it wasn’t Nick… It was Nick. He finally realized who I was and came by the tug on his way to another spot, and we had a quick chat. Great seeing him. He made the best cowboy coffee I’ve ever had.

We anchored nearby in a now-familiar cove. Jasper went to the beach in the folding kayak—the first to try it out. He loved it. He found an antler shed and other treasures along the beach. The adults dined on fresh pink salmon and green and potato salads.

The next morning we fished the same spots. Nothing. We tried other spots in the area. Nothing. Except we got a few nice rockfish we kept for dinner. We headed around the island to my other favorite spot that is usually fishable in most winds. Even when it blows there in these dry hot days in the afternoon, it’s calm in the mornings. We hit the afternoon winds as we neared the corner to turn with the wind. We were trolling as normal, and whamo. A big king. I had to keep the speed up until we could clear the kelp beds and turn the corner. The net had a hole in it, and the king went through on the first try. I grabbed a gaff and slung it on board before we lost it. That fish made our day.

The adults had panko-fried rockfish for dinner. Jasper hit the beaches in the kayak again and found the top half of an otter skull, a lower wolf jaw, and reported there was sea asparagus on the beach. He remembered what it looked like from us finding it up near Juneau last year, and brought back a piece of it so I could confirm his find.

I was up early the next morning and put the gear out as we left the anchorage around 5:30 am. I told the crew we’d need to fish early as the winds would come up midday, and everyone was agreeable. We caught 5 cohos in the morning on the ebb tide. When the tide started to flood, nothing. Then the wind came up. So we headed to the spot to set the 2-hook skate, using a pink head and a coho head for bait, then tried to find a spot out of the wind to fish. I’d hoped we could fish the spot Sean, Pat, and I fished when we saw the orcas, but it was too breezy. We fished a spot nearby in calm waters instead. We didn’t get a bite. The crew took turns taking naps in the 70+ degree heat, and a humpback whale cruised around the tug for entertainment. After a couple of hours of nothing, we motored to the anchorage.

We anchored in the same spot as the first day. It was the only anchorage we used that no one had beachcombed. This anchorage has 3 little islands alongside the big island that make the cove. Even I went in the punt and used my electric outboard for the first time. Took me a minute to figure out how it all worked, and it worked great. I found a couple of shots of ⅝ (?) line, maybe from shrimp pots, along with a bait jar bottom in one spot and a lid that fit it in another.

When I got back to the boat, Tom and Jasper took the punt and kayak to another beach. They came back with a big crate that we could use for draining fish and cleaning shrimp. Jasper found another otter skull—this time with both top and bottom jaws, and all the teeth.

I used half the salmon burger they’d spoon-scraped off the frames, along with some onions, Mama Lil’s peppers, butter, pancake mix flour, and milk, to make a cream sauce, and mixed it with spaghetti noodles. Everyone had seconds. Except Jasper, who had plain noodles that I’d saved for him.

The next morning, we checked the skate first thing, about 5:30 am. We got up to the first hook. There’s a halibut down there. A nice one. So now to get ready. We splashed the punt so we could bring the fish around back and bleed it off the swim step, then bring it up on deck through the stern door. The fish seemed dead. I saw some coagulated blood shake out of the gill plates. I harpooned it to secure it. When I cut the gills, a little blood came out. I hauled it onboard. Length was 63 inches. Jasper looked up the weight from the length in the tide book. About 125 lbs. The next hook had its twin. Same length. This fish had a little more blood come out of its gills, but not much. It seemed about dead, too. Wow. The 7th and 8th fish from this set this year.

The second halibut had pockmarks all over it, and some of its fins had the flesh eaten between the fin rays. Sand fleas, I thought. We had arrived just in time. There was no damage to the flesh. In fact, it was very well bled.

I showed Tom how to fillet a halibut. And just like Joe, another in our Peace Corps training group who was here earlier in the summer, I butchered my fillet showing him how to do it. The remaining 7 fillets (and cheeks) Tom did were about as good as they get. So little meat left on the ribs you could almost see through what was left. The crate Jasper found worked great to drain the big fillets.

The two big fish changed our plans. We had enough ice to keep the halibut fillets cool, but we’d need to butcher and get it frozen, and we couldn’t do that out here.

We headed to our salmon drag in pretty heavy fog to fish the morning before heading to town. We started to catch cohos steadily, but I was having a hard time staying oriented as I couldn’t see the beach. As we neared the point, I saw three boats ahead on the radar, so turned back as I didn’t want to fish near boats I couldn’t see. As the fog burned off, I saw the boats weren’t sport fishing boats, but 3 purse seine boats. We headed back towards the boat so the crew could watch the action, and I explained how purse seining worked. They got to see the boats pursing up and see the fish they brought on board. And all the while, we were catching cohos. Nice big cohos. On the 10th fish, I said let’s head for home. It was 12:30 noon. The crew said we had to. We were out of cooler space. So Tom, Jasper, and Sarah got the coho cleaned and put in the cooler, and I motored for town.

We got to town just before the charter fleet arrived at the cleaning tables and luckily got our own table. Tom knows his way around fish and game processing, and he and his crew made the whole job smooth and efficient. We were done before I knew it, motored to our slip in the harbor, and were headed to the cabin an hour earlier than I thought we would.

It was near 90 degrees inside the container in the late afternoon heat. Opening the windows seemed to make it hotter. So for the first (or maybe second) time, I switched the heat pump from heat to cool, and turned on the air conditioner so we could get to the task at hand in a little more comfort.

We got the 100+ lbs of halibut fillets and the 40 lbs of coho fillets rinsed, drained, and into vac-pac bags. I loaded our freezer, which has become pitifully inadequate this summer. Then Tom and I took the rest to my in-laws’ freezer, and we were done for now. Today felt like one of the best days on the water in my 60 years, with everything going right with people I know and enjoy so well.

We went to Coffman Cove the next day to attend the Art Festival and eat dinner at the burger joint there. The crew was not disappointed.

When we returned in the evening, the fish were frozen well, and we finished vac-packing the fish. Then loaded boxes for their flight to Nebraska and my flight to Juneau. I’m headed home for a few days to see Sara and help out with the Salvation Army canteen truck that’s being used for the glacier lake

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.