Home Mark Stopha,Alaska

Another Peace Corps friend in town

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 and 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 pull over 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 in 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 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 on 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 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 gravlox when he got home to Virginia.

Peace Corps family in Town.

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 alot 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 1980’s.  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.  Excepts we got a few nice rock fish 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 rock fish 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 about 530 am.  I told the crew we’d need to fish early as the winds would come up mid day, 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 and 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 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 beach combed.  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 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 into 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 Lils 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 530 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 it’s gills, but not much.  It seemed about dead, too.  Wow.  The 7th and 8th fish from this set this year.


The second halibut had pock marks all over it, and some of it’s 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 about 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 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 1230 noon.  The crew said we had to.   We were out of cooler space.  So Tom and Jasper and Sara 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 inlaws 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 flooding disaster.  The Salvation Army has new pastors in town, so I’m currently the resident expert in the vehicle’s operation and will train the pastors with what I can remember from using the unit up at the Haines landslide with Shane a few years ago.

The crew took their fish in different kinds of boxes I had – one with a styrofoam inner box, and one with foil covered bubble wrap insulation inside a wetlock fish box.  Their flight was delayed by about 6 hours enroute, so by the time they got home the fish had been without refrigeration for about 24 hours.  Tom reported the degree of meltage was about the same between the boxes.  Even though I’d seen the claims about the bubble wrap insulation, I hadn’t believed it to be as good as styrofoam, but now I do.  Styrofoam is such a useful, dirty product. Not much else you can do with it after its intended purpose.  It doesn’t fold up for easier storage and reuse, and I’m guessing takes centuries to break down.  I reuse the boxes I get from a doctor friend and pharmacies who receive vaccines in them, so at least give them a second life.  But now I know if I have to buy a fish box, I’ll get the bubble wrap insulation, which will be much easier to use over and over.






Wash down pump project.

I’ve been working on installing a wash down pump for about a month, now.  I’ve been thinking about it for a couple years.  I tried using a dc pump that I just lowered over the side, and it was sort of okay but not really convenient, as it took a long run of wires to power it.  
After online research of message boards and equipment and getting advice from Kurt, I finally ordered what the materials (pump and hose) I’d need to install a washdown pump, using the intake line to my boat toilet (aka, head) for the water intake.   I’d seen this as a viable option on boat message boards, as it means you don’t have to put a new hole in your boat for a through hull fitting.  
The first thing I did was to get Dorothy to help me.  I needed a skinny body to drop down into my engine room and feed the 1/2 inch hose from the rear of the boat though the engine room and up to the bathroom, where the 3/4 inch line leading to the head was available for splicing in to.  We completed this task and some other little things in an hour, and that got her lunch at McDonalds and twenty bucks from Uncle Mark.
The 3/4 inch line coming up from the through hull fitting ran under the bathroom sink counter, and that’s where I figured I could splice into it with a 3/4 inch to 1/2 inch tee to divert water to the pump via a 1/2 inch line.  Under the counter was also a convenient, accessible, and out of the way location to mount the pump.  On my hands and knees, I could look through the cabinet doors under the sink and see the intake line in there about 3 feet away under the sink counter along the starbard hull.  I could also see the line from above when I took out the counter drawer, which was right over it.  But I had my doubts about actually getting to the hose in the narrow area under the sink counter or the narrow drawer opening.  How would I get enough leverage to cut the hose and then install the tee hose barbs in such a tight space.  I could barely squeeze my shoulders in there to reach it from the side, and could only reach one arm through the drawer opening to reach it from above.  I even asked Bob about neatly cutting an access panel through the top of the bathroom cabinet that I could reinstall and not have it look like I butchered it. 
As I sat there wondering just how I was going to do all this, I saw it: the hose line coming up to the manual head pump was right there in front of me in plain sight!  All I had to do was loosed the hose clamp and hope it would pull down from the pump intake nipple, which it did surprisingly easily!  From there, I just pushed the hose down a bit, and put the tee in the end!  I walked up to Harri’s for a little piece of 3/4″ hose to connect from the other side of the tee back to the intake nipple.  I was in business.
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I drilled a hole through the cabinet.  Then I fed a piece of the 1/2 inch hose from the tee through the cabinet wall and clamped it to the fitting on the intake side of the pump.  Then, I clamped the hose coming in from the engine room to the outflow side of the pump.  Finally, I bolted the pump in place to the inside of the cabinet wall.  That part was done.
Now for the other end of the hose on the back deck. There are two teak steps attached to the back wall that are for climbing up onto the roof of the salon area.  Under one of the steps I’d installed the outlet for the freezer on the back deck last year.  I decided to install the spigot under the other step.  First, I had to run the hose through the salon cabinetry, then under the bench seating around the salon table, which didn’t require any drilling as there was ample space in holes where other lines were already installed.  I drilled a hole under the step from the outside wall, then fed the hose from the salon out the hole and clamped it to a fitting that would connect it to the hose bib I mounted under the step.  I used a continuous piece of hose from the outlet of the pump all the way to the outside of the back wall so that the only place the system could leak inside the boat was at the fittings on the pump under the bathroom sink – short of the hose line itself springing a leak somewhere, which is unlikely.   After I hooked up the hose to the spigot, I went back inside and neatly secured the hose with hanger straps down the inside wall of the salon and under the benches so it was out of the way.
Lastly came the wiring of the pump.  I considered several different circuits on the boat to run the pump through, as I didn’t want a direct connection to the battery, but rather wanted it to run through the fuse panel.  Then, again, I saw it – there’s a light on the ceiling of the bathroom!  I’d never noticed it before.  I threw the switch on for the lights in the forward berths, and flicked the switch on and off on the bathroom light.  Nothing happened.  I then removed the light’s globe glass, and dropped the fixture down.  I tested the wires with the battery meter.  Bingo.  12.3 volts.  When I removed the bulb and could see it was cloudy and likely no good.
My final problem was where to put in a switch for the pump.  Most DC switches nowadays are made for the very thin walls of aluminum or console board.  Not for thicker cabinet walls.  I had no switches with long enough necks to go through the wall, and in fact had had this same issue when I installed a wiper switch.  I knew these long neck switches were not available in town.  I had an appointment approaching in mid-afternoon, so I quit for the day about half way through the wiring.  
On the way home I had my final epiphany: just install another switch on the housing for the light!  The light housing is a thin piece of metal, and this made things very simple.  I put in the extra switch, then put in a new bulb and got the light working. After I installed the second switch, I tested it with the volt meter till I had the wiring to the right leads on the switch, then remounted the light fixture back in place.  I’d drilled a hole in the side of the light fixture mount to feed in the sheathed wiring. The wiring sheath is white, and matched the white color of the bathroom walls nicely.  I used white plastic wiring staples to neatly secure the wire from the light fixture along the ceiling, then down the wall through another hole drilled through the counter, and down to the pump.
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I connected the wiring to the pump, walked outside to open the spigot valve, and threw the switch at the light fixture.  I could hear the pump working and thought I heard something outside, but I could not see any water coming up the clear hose from the tee to the pump in front of me.  I thought the outside noise was just air moving through the system.  I tried jiggling the toilet valve to be sure it was closed and that I wasn’t sucking air, and felt around the pump fittings, but could not feel any air or water leaks.  Finally I went out to the spigot, and it was gushing water.  I couldn’t see the water moving through the hose, but it was moving alright!.  I finished my last task of the project by securing the wiring under the counter so it would be out of the way, and that was it!  Now for clean up and putting things away, which I’ll spread out over today and tomorrow.  
A satisfying last major project I wanted done on the boat for now to make it how I want it.  The wash down pump will replace the back breaking chore of throwing over a 6 gallon buck over the side to get water to clean fish or clean the deck, and make cleaning fish a lot easier and thorough.

Kickin’ it with Bob

Came off of a subpar ski on the cross country trail at Eaglecrest yesterday and saw I had a phone message.  Bob said if I was ready to fix my ski, he could do it.  I called him back and said I’d stop on the way home.

Bob is a craftsman’s craftsman.  He’s had a hand in most every museum in the state setting up displays, from Dutch Harbor to Utqiagvik to Skagway.  He’s also a stringed instrument builder and repairman.  He supervised the building of the state museum in town.

I’d mounted bindings on the skis, and they were not lined up.  Not centered properly and canted to one side.  But the mount was not off by much, so you can’t just back out the screws, line it up, and reinstall the screws because the new holes will be so close to the old one that you’ll just be making one big hole that the screw will not hold in.

Enter Bob.  While we talked, he methodically went to work.  I helped him back out the old screws.  Then he got a drill of the size of a piece of maple dowel he had, put a piece of tape on the drill bit about a half inch from the tip so he could drill all the holes to the same depth, then drilled out all the holes.  Next he mixed some JB Weld quick setting epoxy and filled each hole.

He then cut little pieces off the maple dowel for each hole with the band saw.  These were going every which way off the saw.  When he was done, we picked the pieces up off the floor and took them over to the ski.

He set a piece of dowel in each hole and pounded it in with a hammer.  Then he took a fine little saw I’d guess he uses for instrument repair and cut the dowels off even with the top of the ski.  Next he used a fine scraper to get them as flush as he could with the ski top.

Now he went to work finding the dead center of the ski. He made his marks with a punch, then drilled down.  He did the top center and back center screws of the nnn binding.  Once these were lined up on the centerline, they would hold the binding in perfect place to put in the two side by side screws of the nnn binding.  By doing the centerline screws front and back first, it was impossible for the binding to move and cant to one side as I had done.  Simple stuff.  Crap, a guy can learn a lot in 30 minutes.

Bob and his wife have helped me out in any number of ways over the years.  I met them through Sara right after we were married, and they are about 10 years older than Sara and I.  Bob welded zincs on the Dutch Master when I needed it.  He helped me plan and build my garage.  Laura, a graphic designer by early trade and social worker later in life, designed our company logo.  She also took a deer backbone, cleaned it all up, glued it together, then painted it to a beautiful art piece she gave me as a present.  Laura and I gather fiddleheads and nettles each spring. Sam used to go with us on the expedition when he was a kid.  Me – I just keep them in deer, moose, salmon, crab, and halibut.  A perfect match.
Took the ski out today to Montana Creek trail with Kurt, and it worked perfect.  

October Deer Hunting

Went down to Craig soon after I returned from Ecuador.  Charlie was supposed to join me soon after I arrived.  Then he slipped on his deck when drinking coffee and smoking a heater, I’m sure, as that’s why he was out there – and he fell on his hand and sprained his wrist.   So no Charlie this year.
The weather was back to regular October weather.  Pouring rain and blowing the rain sideways.  The rain without the wind is tolerable as it allows travel by boat to hunting spots.  But the wind makes the travel and safe anchoring marginal, plus worrying about your boat dragging anchor all day if you do get there.  
The first day was in middle October, when the bucks are not moving all that much.  But I hoped there would still be some salal berries out as I was getting low on jam I’d made a couple years earlier, so I went to a berry hotspot where Charlie and I have taken several deer.  My hip has been bugging the crap out  of me ever since I returned with Kurt on the tug from Ketchikan, and I’ve been getting worried about my hiking abilities.  But the hike in went well.  I got a couple big Costco nut jars full of berries, and called in a few deer but no bucks.  A real nice day.
Ellen mentioned a friend’s advice to freeze the salal berries whole, on the stem, before picking them off the stem.  The salal berries grow more like grapes than they do blue berries.  And the berries don’t pick off their stem that easy.  Her friend was right.  The berries separated from the stem much easier, and there was very little chafe in the berries like there was the last time I made jam.  Nice.  
The weather was crappy the next few days, so I made jam.  I put about 1/2 the volume of sugar as the volume of berries and when the berries were good and cooked, I used an immersion blender I got at Vera’s garage sale to pulverize everything, then canned the jams.  I think I got half a dozen half pints.  I gave one to Barb when she brought by a dozen of her hen’s eggs.
I didn’t get back out for several more days due to weather.  I returned to berry patch site as I knew it would be a safe anchorage compared to some others in the weather.  I hiked in further than I did on the first day to spots we’d taken deer.  I saw some doe but no bucks.  I picked some berries on the way out, as I found some really honey holes near the beach. Then it started pouring again and I thought: are you really going to keep picking berries in this downpour?  I hiked out to the beach, swapped my cork boots for regular Xtra Tuffs, pulled in the boat, then pulled on the punt, and headed towards home.  I cranked up the heater today, and it felt good to be warm.
After a few more days of sideways rain, I got out one more day.  I tried a new island I’d not hunted on the advice of my brother in law.  I found a nice muskeg on OnX.  As I entered the bay, there was a deer on the beach.  Or so I thought.  When I looked through the binoculars, I thought it wasn’t a deer now, as it looked like rocks.  Then the rocks moved, and I saw it was a deer.  From the way it moved, I thought for sure it was a buck.  But I needed to be sure sure.  I idled in and it wasn’t all that nervous, and then I saw it was a buck.  A medium fork horn.
The beach wasn’t very long and I didn’t think I could run to the end of the beach to get off and shoot and think the deer wouldn’t go back in the woods.  I thought I’d try to idle around the point out of sight of the deer, and then come back through the woods to the beach behind him.  But just as I got to the point, he’d had enough and walked back into the woods.  Oh well.  As I headed further into the bay to get to the muskeg, here comes a doe and yearling down the same beach to the water’s edge.   
I went in the bay a little further and when I got across from the muskeg I wanted to go to, the anchorage wasn’t good, so I kept going til it was.  I’d side hill it to the muskeg.  
As I got into the woods, it looked alot steeper than I expected it to be, but I started side hilling it up the hill.   Once I got going, my hip actually feels better when I get it going.  Probably took me 30 to 45 min to get up to the muskeg.  It was a perfect setting, with me perched above and where I could call and not be seen too easily and be in a spot where deer could come from lots of directions without me seeing them till they were close.
I called for an hour or two.  I called a couple of doe in, but no bucks.  It was a beautiful day in the sun and I didn’t want to leave.  I figured I’d take a short cut and go straight down to the beach, then follow the beach back to the boat.   The going down was nice and easy for the first little while.  Right down through some muskeg grass.  Then I came to the edge.  It wasn’t sheer, but almost.  I picked my way down slowly and carefully.  I eventually got to the beach fringe, and started back to the boat.  Across some creek bottoms and around deadfalls.  I got to a spot I could make it easily to the beach, and I took the bait.   I got down to the water’s edge, and followed it back towards the boat.  Then I ran out of beach and into rocks that fell right off to 4 to 6 feet of water.  So I had to scramble up the rock with tightly knit brush until I got back up the to the beach fringe, then finally made my way back to the boat.   I’ve never been happier I didn’t get a deer!  It would have been a serious chore getting it out of that place.  I doubt I’ll go back there.
Made my way home, and decided when I got back and looked at the forecast I better get back to Juneau.  With another volunteer consulting trip coming up, it looked like I’d have a one or two day window where I could fly and then it might be shut down again for another week, and I didn’t want to risk not getting back to get ready.    
I started to button things up, and by the next day was ready to head home with no deer.  Approaching 60, getting deer isn’t as big of importance as it used to be.  Hopefully when I get back in early December I’ll still have time to take a trip on the tug closer to home.

Today’s Short History

I finally made it to Baranof Warm Springs.  I was working on the new boat when Larry called at about noon and asked if I could go with him to BWS, as a group of people were weathered out with their scheduled sea plane service and hoping to get there by boat. A couple hours later, off we go.
It’s a 90 mile run to BWS.  Seas were up to 4 feet going down Chatham, so it was a long slog.  The group was a hearty bunch and nobody got sick.  They were heading for Baranof Wilderness Lodge, where most or all of them, it seemed, had spent many weeks over the years.  You could tell they were anticipating returning to a familiar, favorite place.
We arrived near sunset.  Before we left, Larry warned me we might have to spend the night, so I wasn’t surprised when we decided to do so.  The decision was not difficult. We were greeted at the dock by a thankful lodge crew, relieved their guests had arrived for the week.  The kitchen staff handed us bags of cookies before we had the boat tied up.  Soon, the owner, Mike Trotter, greeted us like long lost friends, invited us to dinner and to spend the night in one of his spare cabins.  We eagerly agreed.
We mingled with the staff and newly arrived guests.  Lots of beer on ice in the cooler.  We felt right at home. Mike was busy taking people’s orders for steaks, and then tended the grill of fresh salmon and a load of steaks.   Turns out Mike had guided out in Bristol Bay on the Nushagak River, just as I had.  We talked of the tremendous king salmon runs to the river back in those days.
As I talked to the age 20 something guides and asked them where they were from, I smiled thinking of my own guiding years in my 20’s and the home states – Minnesota, Montana, Idaho and northern California – were the same home states as guides and staff I worked with then then as these kids now.  All of them to a person seemed happy and content- a sign they worked for a good lodge owner, especially this far into a long, rainy summer season.
Dinner was fantastic.  Perfect steaks, perfect salmon, salad, mashed potatoes, rolls – then ice cream with triple chocolate brownies for dessert.  We ate our fill and more.  
Well after dark, one of the guides ran Larry and I and Jon, the other boat’s captain, up to the little town proper, where we were let in to Mike’s spare cabin.  It was right next to the falls that drain the lake above.   After a long day on the water, we were soon asleep in comfortable beds, with the rushing water from the waterfalls to put us to sleep.
The bay is like a cathedral, with steep treeless mountain tops and a commanding water fall of sorts that cascades down a steep rock face into the head of the bay.  I bet it’s dark and cold here in the winter.  The place is also somewhat magical for me since it was the home for Wayne Short and his family growing up.  He’s the author of several of my favorite books, including The Cheechakoes and This Raw Land, about coming to Southeast Alaska in the 1950s and coming of age in a new land.  The family bought the store and property in Baranof Warm Springs, including the main lodge house compound we were dining in.  I’ve read the books so many times I felt like I’d already been here before many times.
We awoke at 6 and a guide came back for us right on time.  As we walked across the docks on our way to the boardwalk up to the lodge, I studied the fishing gear the lodge used.  The halibut set ups had spin and glos on one side of a three way swivel, with a circle hook on a stout leader on the other, and a snap hanging down to clip on a weight.  The hootchies were white with red in the head – a similar pattern to those I’d had success with further up Chatham this year.
When we got up to the lodge, we were greeted by kitchen staff with plates full of breakfast before we could even sit down.  We ate our fill with the guides as they talked about the day to come.  The cook rang the bell to call the guests to breakfast, and we said our goodbyes and headed down to our boats.  Soon, we were on our way back to Juneau at full speed and fair seas, and tied up in Auke Bay before noon.  I didn’t get a hot soak in the hot springs on this run, and look forward to doing that on the next trip.