Berry Season

she says:

So after returning home from our very damp across the bay voyage, we hid away in the comfort of our dry, warm, solid roofed cabin for days to escape the rain.  Finally, after at least a week of relentless rain, we got some relief.   So to celebrate we decided to get out and go for a hike to Riou point (the ocean), however it very quickly became a day of Salmon berry piking!  So exciting.   

We have eaten a few wild strawberries while we were across the bay, tiny, but deliciously sweet.  Moby really enjoyed them as well, and with his superior sense of smell he even helped us seek out the fantastically ripe strawberries (what a dog!)  Unfortunately the strawberries are not close to ripe on this side of the bay, as much rain and little sunshine isn't the best combination for ripening.  The salmon berries on the other hand are coming along quite nicely (though they are considerably more bitter than strawberries, even at the peak of perfection)  

So with a stroll around Moraine Bay and a half a galloon 

of salmon berries in tow we headed back to the lodge and I started to dream up just what to make with our pick of salmon berries... after much deliberation and reviewing my many baking cook books I decided on a Salmon Berry Almond Galette!  I combined the almond paste from a Sour Cherry Galette recipe by Martha Stewart and I altered a Corn Meal Pie Crust from the JOY and matched it with the preparation for a berry filling from Nigella Lawson (substituting the salmon berries for the blackberries and apricots Nigella calls for)... and of course a bit more sugar since the berries are so bitter.  

And vala!  After dinner treat and celebration of summer dessert complete!  The crust was divine, and overall the dessert was a hit however I think the berries and scrumptiousness of the flaky

 crust overpowered to almond paste... though it didn't get many complaints.  Yum Yum

Jeff and I decided to end the evening by enjoy a bottle of wine the "bird crew" got us in town (we've been saving it for quite awhile.)  So in the warm glow of our dimly lit cabin we sat and sipped pinot nior out of mason jars, talked about our day, this experience and the dreams to come... man I've missed vino. 

Zeus R.I.P.

Mo says:

My friend Zeus (far left) died on Monday.  It was sad.  He went to sleep under Cabin 2, like we all do to get away from the bugs, but he never woke up.  Pop says that it is part of life, so I guess it's normal.  But still, I miss Z, especially the way he would bark at the machines.  It was so loud we would all start barking at the machines, then the humans would yell too!!  What fun!

Anyway, I hope Z is sleeping all he wants, and doesn't get hit in the head by airplane propellers anymore, or attacked by wolves, and that he gets huge plates of leftovers after dinner every night.  Goodbye, Z.

the Icy Tour

he says: 

This is Part I of a piece i'm writing on our trip... hope you enjoy it!

Elizabeth and I are planning for a week long kayak and backpack tour of Icy Bay, Alaska... but we are packing provisions for 10+ days. If the weather gives us the chance, we’ll extend this once in a lifetime tour to fill the window mother nature gives us.

We’ve been waiting nearly a year to get back to this place, to experience the solitude and beauty of rugged coastal Alaska by sea kayak. Last fall, we won a lottery of sorts, and were chosen to participate in a cable television show called “The Alaska Experiment”, pitting small teams against the bush for a three month stretch. A sort of survival endurance contest... Our ‘insertion’ consisted of a two day sea kayak trek through the ice choked fjords of Icy Bay to our tent camp and new home. The taping of the show passed with its trials and hardships, the whole experience was unforgettable. But those first two days on the water stayed with us... and it is those first moments paddling in Icy Bay that brought us back.

Elizabeth loads her ramen, coffee, and soup-stuffed drybags into the bow and stern

 compartments of the rental kayak, and I busily work on some custom modifications to the two-person boat that will carry me and Mo, our 75lb german shepherd. I jury-rig some pvc and crab pot floats into a make-shift double outrigger to give us a little secondary stability should big Mo decide to shift his weight at just the wrong time. If you’ve ever taken a big dog for a ride in a little boat, you probably know that they always chose the wrong time to get up and move to the other side of the boat.

So with a few non-permanent modifications and a very short sea trial, the double boat is ready and Mo seems to like it. The additional backpacking gear and supplies are loaded into the stern and between my legs, and we are ready to go.

We are jumping off from Icy Bay Lodge, a full service resort lodge on the eastern shore of Icy Bay. The lodge provides adventure kayak vacation packages in any configuration you can imagine... from basic boat rentals and minimal support to lodging and meals, a landing craft insertion deep in the bay, and fully guided kayak tours. From the lodge, we’re planning to cross the bay to Independence Creek, and then work our way clockwise along shore as we slowly make our way back to the lodge.
“Once we cross the bay, we’re kinda committed”
“Yes, we are”
“What if the ice chokes the bay later in the week?”
“We’ll find a way”

And quiet hope is all you have on a trip like this. We were going beyond any kind of assistance or easy rescue. On a trip like this, you simply have to be ready to wait for the weather, for your opportunity.

All said, the sea tour will cover approximately 30 miles, not counting diversions, meandering, and side trips. And we have two short backpacking trips planned, so when we’re not exploring by boat, we will be bush-wacking through scrub alder, devil’s club, and salmonberry bushes to take in the views and experience the full force of one of Alaska’s wildest places.

We’re off....the sun is shining through holes on the gray blanket of clouds, winds are light, the bay is flat. We paddle hard for Gull Island, the only waypoint before making the crossing. Aptly named, the gulls are numerous and noisy. They protest our presence, mostly the presence of a wolf on their sanctuary, but they soon get over it. They circle above as he shows interest in fetching driftwood, not sniffing out their nests in the grass. After the short stretch we head west into the bay, west to the coastal mountains and Independence Creek. The ice in the bay is thin and easy to move through, and we are thankful that the wind and current have given us a fee pass today. The bay can be packed with ice depending on the conditions, and it could make for very slow paddling. After two and a half hours of paddling, we make landfall and begin scouting for a decent campsite.
We make camp, and start a small fire to cook dinner on and to smoke the bugs away. Tomorrow we will backpack up Independence Creek, but tonight we sleep on the beach.

Packing the boats to head further up the bay, we are thankful to be free of the devil’s club infested gulch that holds Independence Creek. That is one forbidden place; dark, steep, nearly impossible to move. I kept thinking of the 80’s flick “Predator”, and wishing at times that I had Jesse Ventura’s ‘ol painless Gatling gun to cut a swath through the unruly tangle of underbrush and deadfall. Moby kept looking at us quizzically...

“Dad, what in the hell are we doing here, exactly?”
“I’m not so sure either, ask your mother!”
“Adventure!” was her reply.

In this moment I am thankful for her enthusiasm. It helps soften the edge of this horrid canyon, this place that feels more hostile than indifferent. I am dreaming of the bright open spaces on the water, not the dark, close brush we are battling this moment...

Paddling north and west around Kichyatt point, the ice is thick and the icebergs are huge. We are wary of the big ones, and give them plenty of respect. We have seen several split and roll in the last few days, and we don’t want to be in the neighborhood when it happens. The beaches are choked with ice, and hundreds of car and house sized blocks seem to be hung up in the flats after last night’s high tide. After a bit of searching, we finally locate a beach with a few clear spots and navigate through the huge beached icebergs.

We survey the beach to see who and what makes a living in the area. We find mostly moose tracks of all sizes, only one set of bear tracks, and some smaller coyote tracks. Not that we would have abandoned this beach, but it is comforting to find only one set of bear tracks. Our wildlife safety gear includes a vhf radio, bear spray, and a last resort 12-gauge shotgun. We hang our food in the tall cottonwoods that line the bay, and always cook away from camp. In our limited experience, scent discipline is the most important aspect of bear safety, so we do our best to minimize the incentives around camp.

Last fall, we had several very close encounters with coastal brown bears, and in each case the bears were curious but not intent on sacking camp or eating humans. While this is not always the case, we’d much prefer to make lots of noise, be cautious with our food, and never ever have to shoot a bear!

The next few days delivers a coastal gale. While the water of the bay is protected, it was hard to tell where the ocean stopped and the rain filled air began. So we stayed on shore, hiking and beachcombing and exploring in the pouring rain. Rain gear or not, it is hard to stay dry in this kind of constant deluge. So we spent the evenings and nights rotating wet gear into our sleeping bags for body-heat drying and storage. By morning, we were each packed in our synthetic bags with several layers of almost dry but very warm synthetic clothing...dampness rules here.

“You want to go to the desert this fall?”
“Yeah, I can’t wait to be able to crawl into a dry sleeping bag, maybe even my down bag!”
“I know, and to have dry clothes to sleep in”
“And I can’t wait to be able to drink water without feeling like I’m colluding with the enemy..”

These are the kind of big dreams you have after day three in the tent...

Mr. Fairchild

she says:

In the movie Sabrina, Sabrina’s father is a chauffeur for the very wealthy Larrabees of Long Island. He chooses this profession not for his love of cars, or because its the best job his education will allow him, but because he is a lover of books and this profession allows him hours a day to pour over the pages of whatever book he fancies. I always liked that idea, the idea of not having your job be your passion, but instead, taking a job that allows you to enjoy your passions in life.

My thoughts wondered to Mr. Fairchild today (Sabrina’s Dad) because we have had some pretty damp and dreary weather the past few days and it has allowed me to start and finish “The Lovely Bones” in just a couple of days, (finishing a book in a couple of days is no big deal for most people, but for me, it’s a feat). The Lovely Bones is one of those books that hooks you, so when I would wake up the hear the rain tinkling the roof of our cabin, I welcomed the weather as it let me pour over my book without feeling guilty for not going outside.

So this morning, after breakfast was served and plates were cleared, I started a fire in the dining room of the main lodge and sat with my book, I was happy.  I happily read that last few pages and mulled over the story in my head and prepared dessert for the evening.

Today I made “Victorian Lemon Sponge Cake”, from a recipe my Nigella Lawson’s “How to be a Domestic Goddess.” The cake’s actual name is “Victoria Sponge”, (like with many things I read, I read it wrong the first time I saw the name and then was too stubborn to say the proper name once I realized the mistake.) The Lemon came about because with the simple fresh berries and whipping cream that filled the middle of the cake I thought a tart damp lemon cake would compliment the filling better than the plain sponge with the dash of vanilla extract originally suggested.  I was glad I went with my instincts on this one, the dessert went over quite well.

And so as the evening is wrapping up, the dinning room table cleared, kitchen tidied up and guest back in their cabins, I sit and reflect on my new profession. Reading books is not my passion, but I do enjoy a good read.  And the fact that this job allows me to do things like read, draw, kayak or hike makes me very happy.   And though being a housekeeper, making lunches for the fisherman or baking brownies from a box-mix for the umpteenth time is not my passion, it does allow me to dance around the kitchen, read up on scrumptious and complex recipes that make my mouth water and most importantly it allows me to bake and tweak recipes into the light and delicate form of dessert that I love so much.

Icy Bay by Air

He says:

There is a group of wildlife biologists staying here for the summer, and they study the various birds that call Icy Bay home.  They go out for two or three day excursions, study their respective subjects, and return to base to rest, download data, and repack.  On occasion, they fly around and listen for the radio beacons they've outfitted various birds with, to log their locations and travel patterns.  

Needless to say, we hitched a ride on one of those flights, just to get up and see the sights.

Icy bay Lodge, the bay, the coast range, Mt. St. Elias, the fjords and glaciers, the Malaspina Glacier, potholes, etc.  What a beautiful place!! 

So, we used the opportunity to scout out the bay for good camping spots on our kayak tour.  At this point we are planning a week long kayak trip in the bay, to explore the fjords and valleys, see wildlife, and of course, to see the glaciers up close and personal.  So many beaches, stream valleys, and high meadows to explore, so little time!

Maybe 2 trillion

she says:

There are certain types of mystery that don't translate very well, mystery that can not be captured on film and is hard to describe in words.  I unfortunately have experienced two of theses types of mystery during my time in Alaska.  

The first was last fall; cold and damp.  I found myself watching The Alaska Experiment and thinking "Why are Jeff and I in our rain gear, it doesn't look that bad."  Then remembering it was a downpour, and you just couldn't tell on TV.  The discomfort of being chilled down to the bone by the moist and frigid Icy Bay air didn't translate.  

The second mystery I thought I could handle, (I've been to Australia, had flies crawling all over my face, up my back, in my ears and I adjusted... I was serene and seriously found peace with the flies of the Oz...  and so) I thought I was prepared for the mosquitos of Alaska.  However I was sadly mistaken. 

Of course that wasn't the way it started out.  When I first arrived I was ready to adjust, I even thought that the mosquitos though plentiful, didn't have as bad a bite.  Yes.. the high pitched sound of their wings buzzing by your head will drive you batty.. but I thought I could get used to it.  So as I happily worked in the bug-free-ish kitchen I thought, "the bugs are manageable, I can do this."  

That was until of course I worked outside for the first time.  I quickly learned that there are different types of Alaskan bugs and mosquitos are far from the worst of it.  There are these bugs called white socks.  And they are smart little buggers.  I swear they wait till you have your hands tied up, hauling lumber before they latch on to the tender skin in the corner of your eye and bite with such gusto that they leave a bruise.  A bruise that looks like you and a Kebbler elf have gotten into a fisticuffs.  Yes it will itch and your eyelid will puff up, but NO scratching it.  It will just make it worse.  

And there was the time I was staining the cabin, it was raining so you would think NO Bugs!  I was under the protection of the porch, unfortunately all the bugs were also drawn to the protection of the overhang and the strong sweet aroma of wood stain.  So after inhaling quite a few insects and cursing a ton, I continued staining with a bug net over my head.  Actually many of the things I now do outside consist of putting on my mosquito head net before venturing outdoors.  Sitting outside with a cup of tea at the end of the day to enjoy the sunset just doesn't happen around here.  Damn Bugs!!

Anyway, I think to worst of all is when the mosquitos disturb you from your slumber, ruining your fantastic dreams and your extremely restful sleep as their irritating soprano-like buzz, circles around your head like a  Cessna  attempting to come in for a landing on your face.  In my semi-conscious state I am irrationally angry at the tiny satanic flies.  I imagine the high pitched little flies were sent on some sort of mission to attack me personally, like they are trying to avenge their dead brother that I killed earlier that day or something...  I hate them. 

One of our kayaking Israeli clients questions Devon (the lodge handyman & deckhand) as he was getting ready for a 5 day camping excursion, "How many bugs do you think there are here?" 

"I don't know man, a lot" was Devon's reply. 

"I think maybe a trillion bugs," was the Israeli's response as he pondered the number and after a prolonged silence he reconsidered,  "maybe two trillion." 

So in short there are a lot of bugs. Though I must say they are improving my hand eye coordination tremendously.

Busy Busy Busy

He says:

Ok.  So we've been busy.  We had three days off without clients, and actually taking time off never occurred to us.  There is so much to do around here, so much work needed to get the lodge and grounds in order for the season.  And while none of it is technically our job, Devon (the boat crew and resident carpenter) certainly needs all the extra hands he can get. 

So, Elizabeth and I spent 3.5 days, 12 to 14 hours each day, working the grounds, cleaning, organizing, building, sorting, landscaping, fueling, etc.  This place is starting to look good!  

The economy up here is half cash, half barter.  Favors on top of favors, good deeds go a long way, and nobody forgets to return the favor when the situation arises.  A care package of halibut steaks and salmon fillets goes one way, a 10 ton piece of heavy equipment lands on the beach for 24 hours of use the next.  You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours.  Good stuff.

The big group of kayakers returned from 5 nights camping on the beaches of Icy Bay.  They were dirty, hungry, and happy.  A big halibut grill, lots of cigarette smoking, and kibitzing in native tongue.  They did not get the best weather we've seen, but coming from the desert, I don't think most of them were too concerned (save one of the guys in the group who was from New Zealand).  An early beach drive to the airstrip, three planes, lots of bags, and the place was suddenly very quiet, very calm.

A lull in the storm.  A chance to prepare for the next wave...

Sitting in the Client's Seat

she said:

This week at the lodge we have two clients that have become very good friends of George and Jill's over the years.  As soon as we met them I was at ease; they brought paper bags full of fresh and unheard of vegetables from Pike's Market in Seattle and with our greeting hand shake I could sense their zest for life and easy going way.  It was going to be a fun week, full of fresh vegetables, experimental sushi platters and a lot of laughs.  

George invited Jeff and I along for a day on the boat.  Trolling for Salmon at the inlet to Icy Bay, stunning views of Mt. St. Elias with wind swept clouds blanketing the lower peaks.  As we cruised out the the Salmon hot spot we were treated to a whole new perspective on the coastal mountains.  

It was a fantastic day, gentle 

rolling swells of 1 to 2 feet, George would see a green blip on his radar and call, "Target at 33 ft" and with 40 seconds the clients would yell, "fish on" with glee.  As the 30 to 40 pounders fought against the slow and steady pull towards to boat George's excitement for the catch would become contagious.  "Yeah, baby bring it right in."  As the fish was raised over the side of the boat everyone would whoop and holler, slap five and shake hands it was a proud moment for all no matter who caught the fish.  

The fish were plentiful and the day... was relaxing.  It was nice to sit in the clients seat.  I crawled up on top of the boats cabin and took in the view, ocean as far as the eye could see and if I turned my head there was good old Elias just peaking out past the costal mountains.

We came back to the lodge and promptly started prepare our Salmon feast, complete with king salmon sashimi, sushi and rolls as appetizers and a light marinated grilled filet for the main course.  Without exaggeration the best fish I have ever tasted. 

A three hour tour...

Mo says:

I usually guard the lodge while ma and pa go kayaking or off in the big boat. But today, I got to go for a drive in the big boat. It was best when they lowered the gate in the front. The wind blew right in my face, and I could smell the ocean, fish, birds, trees, dead stuff, and lots of 

other things that I couldn’t identify.

At one point, we pulled up to a big pile of ice and snow that was floating in the bay. We got to hop onto it so I could eat some snow, and then we got back in the boat. It was pretty neat. The snow tasted great.

After a while, I got sleepy and took a nap in the sun. The boat kept moving along while I guarded it. After a while, we stopped and pulled some ice onto the boat, then we pulled up big cages

with little red things in them. They moved a lot, and had lots of legs. Weird. I barked at them so they knew who was in charge.

It was good to get back to the lodge. I really had to pee after eating all that snow!