Went to Tenakee with Larry and his friend, Pastor Gordon Blue, and a couple people heading to Tenakee, along with a load of freight. Lumpy run down Chatham, and really lumpy across the mouth of Freshwater Bay as the tide was stacking up against the wind. Once we turned into Tenakee Inlet, it was flat calm all the way to town. We saw the usual group of sea lions lounging on their haulout.
We offloaded quickly with our extra help. Gordon was a career crab fisherman before a pastor, so was a great help. We picked up a short term deckhand from the crane dock, and took him with us to help Nick and Molly load their table saw at their beach to send it to their friend in Juneau.

He was a fun 30 something to talk to. He’s met his wife in Idaho, she visited his family in Tenakee, and said “let’s move here!”. So they did. The kid said he was doing odd jobs around town, which I think can be a full time job in this town of retirees and continuous construction, remodel, appliance repair, commercial fishing, and firewood cutting.  When I asked what his dad did, it sounded like the same thing. And his dad was a Toyo stove fixer, which is always in demand. I thought how refreshing it was to meet someone (and apparently his father) just living sort of in the moment, and not on some career path or corporate ladder or professional job with a mortgage. Remote, community life as in much of Alaska’s rural communities without a road system. A lot different perspective that those of us in larger towns with soccer practice and Costco and running around all the time. Every passenger we take to or from Tenakee seems to have their own unique story.

I did all the driving and maneuvering this trip. Earlier, Larry would do the close up work around the docks, and I’d take over for the open water driving. I’m finally getting the hang of twin jets with Larry’s coaching. The main thing to remember is whether you are going forward or reverse, turn the wheel in the direction you want the bow to go. When maneuvering, you generally put the boat in gear, at an idle, and then use the forward and reverse levers on the jets to move to the moorage.  Larry picked it up a lot faster than I did, and now he’s getting me there.

The way home was a lot better seas. We made it back in half the time as the trip down, as we had a lighter load and ran on step the whole way. Still not many boats out this time of year, and I saw one humpback whale heading north near the Kittens Islands at Funter Bay.

Down in Petersburg again for Superbowl. When I’d last visited my friend at Thanksgiving, I noticed he’d slipped abit both mentally and physically. He’d had a car accident over a year ago, and I was hoping he was still recovering from that. I was hoping, perhaps naively, that it wasn’t just a function of approaching 90. Two and half months later, I was pleasantly surprised. He is getting around much better. He was now walking every day and his balance is much better. Likewise, his mental state was very good. His state of confusion is gone. He was back to his old self.

My friend lives on a rocky beach overlooking a long a channel leading to the mouth of the Stikine River. There’s a mountain range on the other side of the channel. He’s got a small flock of resident gulls, and some resident diving ducks. On the other side of a sliding glass door that leads to a small deck, he has a bird feeder. He told me that he is missing one of his pet gulls (Jonathan) and a particular kind of song bird with an altered tail whose species I forget. They had become like family and he misses them. He has a journal next to the window he’s kept for decades, and denotes things like when the first first geese arrived in the spring, and when the first sandhill cranes flew south in the fall.

Another friend was just back to Petersburg. His brother suddenly passed away recently, and he was returning from the funeral. He and another retired teacher joined us – our usual foursome for Superbowl.

The man who lost his brother related how hot it was where the funeral was, and all the traffic. We each in turn concluded how much we all like the winter season here. One liked to have the quiet time to work on his model airplanes. I enjoyed the skiing and the snow. The retired teacher told of going to his place up in the Yukon Territory with friends from Petersburg for a week of skiing during the day and drinking beer and telling lies at night.

This morning, another retired teacher video called from Mexico and told of taking a neighbor who was not in good health and a vaccination denier to the hospital. It took 12 hours to find a hospital who would take her as she had Covid. As he was talking, my friend and I looked across the bay on a flat calm day in February at the snow covered mountains, with the sea gulls out in front, each picking a rock to sit on to enjoy the sun. My friend related on how good it was to be here in his Senior years, where he had care when he needed it, and where he knows everyone. I thought – this was a view I’d want to have if I couldn’t get out for awhile.

At 89, he still has lots of stories to tell that I haven’t heard. He grew up in his early childhood in Montana. His father was a lawyer, and one way or another, ended up being a lawyer for then Brigadier General Eisenhower. Yes. THAT Eisenhower.  His parents wanted to travel overseas to work, but Eisenhower wasn’t having it, as he’d come to depend on the dad’s counsel.

When his dad had to go overseas with Eisenhower, my friend was sent to relatives in Nebraska during his middle school years, where his grandfather was a professor at Wayne State Teachers College. He had always enjoyed running places. Just running. He also stuttered, and that made him keep to himself to avoid teasing. When he got to Nebraska, he and his classmates were lined up to do some sort of a run- maybe for a fitness test or something. It was something like a run around a quarter mile track, and he said he came in first by 200 yards. This got the notice of the track coaches, and he went on to set records in Nebraska and later in California, where he finished high school  More importantly, it allowed him to gain much needed self esteem, and eventually he cured his stuttering. He went on run track at Cal, and he still closely follows track and field.

This morning, we talked for a couple hours before I had to be at the airport to head back to Juneau. His mother was Ms. Montana in 1934 (I think it was 1934). His grandfather in Montana was a plumber, and would take his young grandson to the saloon for a soda pop. He saw Crow nation Native Americans come to the saloon on horseback, and tie them up outside the saloon. It sounded just like the movies.

Rendering the Fat

I tried my hand at something new for homestead cooking. Making bear lard. Andrew saved me a bunch of fat he trimmed from the bear meat we sent him from Craig last spring. I planned to use the fat in making deer sausage, but we already had a lot of pork fat in the freezer, so I researched how to render it into lard for baking and sautéing.

I diced the fat into about 1 inch chunks, cutting away as much of the straggling meat as was practical. I knew I wanted to heat the fat only till it turned to liquid, and to be careful not to burn or fry the cracklins – which, I found out, is the fat and any meat that would not render – if I wanted the best product.

Several articles recommended a slow cooker, but I could not make Sara’s mom’s ancient slow cooker work right. So, I transferred all the fat to an enamel cast iron pot. I put the stove flame on low, and soon, the fat started to “melt” to oil. I looked up what was happening during the rendering process, and found heating the fat drives off the water from the fat, leaving behind the oil that makes lard.

After several hours, I had a pile of cracklins in the center of a growing pool of liquid. The cracklins were soft and looked chewy. I thought maybe they were supposed to be drier and crisp, but after looking at the online images, I saw they looked just like cracklins were supposed to.
I ladled all the liquid I could. It was a slight orange color, so I had not been perfect, as a clearer yellow color was what I was shooting for. I waited a few hours longer for more oil to render, and didn’t see much more fat turning to liquid, so I removed the remaining oil to let it cool. I had about filled the 6 quart pot with bear fat at the start, and it yielded about a quart of oil.

I strained the oil first through a metal mesh strainer, and then through cheesecloth. The liquid had a rather strong, gamy smell. I thought it might not be usable, but I’d gone this far with the hours of cooking, so had to try it.

I poured the cooled oil into a quart sized yogurt container, put the lid on, and put it in the fridge to solidify.

The next day, I was putting together dinner, and had some brussel sprouts to use. I took out the lard, and it looked like it was supposed to – the same consistency as “bacon grease”. It still had a strong odor. I put a spoonful in the pot, and watched it melt. As it melted, I noticed no smell.

I tossed in a handful of quartered sprouts in the oil, and sautéed until they were slightly browned and had softened. I tentatively tasted a quarter. And it was good. No discernible gamy taste.  I threw the rest of the sprouts into the pan and sauteed the rest for dinner.  I’d see if Sara noticed anything when she ate them. She did not.

So, my lard wasn’t perfect, but it was edible.

This morning, I thought I’d see how biscuits tasted using the lard. I don’t remember ever making biscuits before. I found a simple recipe that didn’t involve a lot of chilling this or that.  Just mix together flour, baking powder and salt with lard and milk. It made a dozen little biscuits in a cup cake tin in short time.

The biscuits weren’t light and flaky like they may have been if I’d made the kind you roll out and then use a cookie cutter, but like the sprouts, they were edible. And no gamy taste from the lard.

Tonight it’s going to be some gravy made with the deer sausage I made last week over the biscuits. My guess is Sara will like this, too.

Larry called at 11 am. Do I want to run with him to the mine with a piece of equipment. With isolation over, of course I did. I love being retired.

I put on my red union suit underwear and carharts, cased my rifle for hunting the beaches on the way, filled my coffee thermos, packed a bag with extra gloves and fur hat,  and met Larry at the dock a half hour later.

We loaded a big diesel pump on a trailer. It weighed 4000 lbs. We untied from the downtown dock and I idled us down the channel as Larry tied down the equipment. It was sunny and calm. We’d throw a tarp over the unit if we ran into any chop.

We rounded Douglas  doing about 12 kts. It was a beautiful day. If only Larry would get the damn heater installed. I was extra glad I’d dressed warm.

We motored up the backside of Douglas Island. The sun beat down on the snow covered beaches. I could see deer tracks and otter slides here and there in the snow. But no deer.

As we passed Fritz Cove, we could see the lingering blow of the humpback whale that’s been there for a month now.

We continued on up past Auke Bay and into lower Lynn Canal. We reached the mine dock about 430, and it was just about pitch black. A few lights from the mining activity shown, and as we approached the beach landing we assumed was our designated pick up site, there came a zoom boom down to the beach. Right on time.

Larry took the helm from me to keep the boat in position against the beach as I worked with the beach crew to off load the pump. I took the lifting strap loop and shackle and attached it to the pick point on the trailer. The zoom boom tried, but could not lift the heavy pump with the boom fully extended. So, we dropped the bow and pulled the trailer forward. Then, a huge loader with forks appeared and took over.

The zoom boom driver and I got the lifting straps in place with the loader. Alot of my practical lifting safety principles from working on the north slope came back. I thought ahead as to how I could get hurt, and then made sure I was not in a position for it to happen. The big loader lifted the trailer off Larry’s boat and down to the beach. I pitched off the pump hose and wheel chocks to the zoom boom driver, and we idled off the beach.

Now it was dark. Really dark.

Larry and I switched places. I idled out into Berners Bay as he winched up the bow and secured it. My hands were cold from offloading the pump, and the cabin’s slight warmth felt good. Soon, Larry was back inside, and I handed over the helm to him. It took awhile to adjust our eyes for night vision, but soon we could see the mountainsides and the stars. There’d be no moon for us, but otherwise it was clear and fair seas.

We beat it back towards home. As we left Berners Bay, we thought we’d go all the way around Douglas and back to downtown to take advantage of the weather. But after less than an hour into the run towards Auke Bay, we agreed it was dark. Really dark. And that’s with lots of town light to see by. We pulled in to Auke Bay, and Larry called his wife to come get us.

As we entered the harbor, there was mist over the water. It was cold. As we idled to tie up, I stepped out to a foot of snow on the bull rail. We loosened up the frozen lines to tie up, and walked up to wait in the warm harbor bathroom for our ride to arrive.

A great day out after 10 days of Covid isolation.

I went on a short trip to my uncle Ted’s funeral in Tampa. I left on a Saturday the 11th afternoon, and returned on a Tuesday the 14th afternoon, with just one plane transfer in Seattle.  My sister, a Navy grad, arrived on a similar schedule, after attending the Army Navy game with her son on Saturday.

I roomed with my sister in a hotel. We used my nephew’s car – he’s a sophomore at the University of Tampa.

The wake and funeral were relatively small affairs, mostly in open rooms with high ceilings. Few were masked, as nearly all, from what I know, were vaccinated and boosted like my sister and I.

I returned home on Dec 14th. That night, I helped the local church pastors package money donations for deposit, as I do each Christmas season. We sat across from each other at a folding church table, so not real close. None of us were masked, as we’re all vaccinated. We were in a church with high ceilings and lots of open air.

The next day, I had a checkup with my doctor and his nurse. All of it was done in masks.

That evening, I helped again with the church donations, and then attended the scout meeting. At scouts, we’ve continued to mask. I was not within 6 feet – and more like 10 ft – from anyone at the meeting.  All of us – including the kids – are vaccinated.

On the 16th, two sisters who we consider nieces brought over food in the mid-afternoon that their mom had just cooked, as they know we love their ethnic dishes. The 22 year old and 10 year old sat about 6 to 8 feet away for about 20 minutes. All of us were unmasked and vaccinated.

In the early evening, I again helped the pastors with donations. After that, our good friends here brought over a rhubarb pie for my birthday, which was the day before, and we shared that. I was at 6 to 8 feet from them at the house. All of us were unmasked and vaccinated.

I remember I did feel exhausted just before they arrived. I just thought it was jet lag.

When I went to bed that evening, I started having chills, then fever and sweats, and a cough. It progressed to a crescendo overnight, and I slept little. By the morning, it had broken.

Sara said I better test for Covid.  She ran to city hall and got take home tests. She was negative. I was positive.  Sara moved to a hotel in hopes she might stay negative so she could still go to see friends for Christmas as planned, and I might join after my 10 day isolation.

I contacted my sister. She said she’d had a bad sore throat ever since she got back home, but had tested negative twice so didn’t think it was Covid and didn’t contact me. After I told her I tested positive, she tested a third time. Positive. And two of sons were positive, with no symptoms. And her husband.

I then contacted all of the contacts listed above to let them know.

On my Isolation Day 4, Sara left in the morning from the hotel for our cabin near her friend. She was still testing negative and had no symptoms. A good friend took her to the airport, and both were masked. She spent the day with her friend after the short 1 hour flight.

Late on Isolation Day 4, the husband of the pie gifters texted me. He was positive. Mild overnight symptoms just like I’d had. His wife was still negative.

Sara thought she should test again, even though she had no symptoms. She was now positive. So Christmas for her would now be in isolation at our cabin, and her friend on watch. On Isolation Day 5, one of the church pastors notified me. He, his wife and another pastor, and one of his children were positive, along with a cousin of a pastor who had returned to her nearby town. The cousin’s sons and father now also tested positive.

The pastors and their family had planned to take a family cruise this Christmas after 2 previous tries were cancelled due to covid. Looks like this one might not happen as well.

On Day 7, the wife of the rhubarb pie bearers tested again. Now she was positive. The annual solstice bonfire they put on each year was now cancelled.

So just like that, over a dozen people infected, with no warning. Thankfully, this was all post-vaccine development and thankful those we associate with were vaccinated.

As the isolation days progressed, I had time to put a new front bumper hitch and plow set up together on my truck. And reflect on the start of year three of this pandemic.

First, I thought how lucky I am to live in Juneau, Alaska. The city council and mayor, from day 1 of the pandemic, took the measures necessary to protect our citizenry.  Some – myself included – thought at the very beginning that pandemic measures were overboard. That this was “just like the flu” and the “regular flu kills alot more people than this Covid does”. What nonsense that all sounds like now, 2 years in.

After seeing how fast this thing spread just from me, and to vaccinated people, I look back and think what would have happened without the hunker down measures implemented when there was no vaccine.  WIthout the measures, we’d have lost hundreds of people in our little city – at minimum. Thousands would have been infected before the first people even had symptoms, just as happened with me, but at so fast a rate that contact tracing would have been near impossible. By then, it would have been too late. Our leaders led when we needed leadership.