Tag: Alaska

On the spur of the moment

My friend Zoya, who is a crazed walker and runner, called just as I was getting ready to take my husband some lunch at work.  The wind was muffling her voice so I knew she was outside.  She says “I am out at Priest Rock (I know she means Little Priest Rock) and there are so many seals sitting on the rocks, about 12 of them.  I’ve never seen so many together and they are so big.”  I verify that they are seals and not sea lions.  “Oh no, they are seals and they are so fat.  You should come take some pictures.”  (And you have to read this with an Armenian accent, by the way.)

By the time I got out there after going all the way over to airport to drop off lunch, they had decreased in numbers to about 9.  But they were so roly poly fat.  And all different colors.  Just basking away the afternoon in the winter sun;  sharing space with Emperor geese who were grazing in the near shore waters.

There are actually 8 harbor seals, but one is kind of on the other side of the rock.

There is nothing better than being able to drive out Summer Bay road in January.  Typically we are unable to drive it past November due to snow and avalanches.

This fatty had a rock all to himself.

And there is nothing better than living in a place where a spur of the moment phone call from a friend equals basking harbor seals…

I love how they relax!

…and feasting fowl.

I'm assuming these guys were grazing on mussels.

Thanks, Zoya!

Wood

Birch

Wood in the Aleutians has always been gathered off the beaches.  Driftwood.  It has drifted here from somewhere else; somewhere that has trees.  Because we don’t have trees.  And we really don’t miss them.  They tend to block the view.  They are slightly claustrophobic.  They blow down in the wind.  Considering the fact that we have no trees, wood held a prominent position in our traditional culture.  The most mathematically engineered boat ever constructed was made out of found wood.  Our iqyan (kayaks) are considered  second to none.  The bentwood hunting visor was made out of found wood.  Masks for ceremony, dancing, and storytelling were made out of wood.  Tool handles were made out of found wood.  Bowls and utensils were made out of wood.  If you wanted to waste a good, huge piece of found wood, you could have used it for building part of your semi-subterranean dwelling; otherwise you could use a whale rib.

We scour the beaches for cottonwood.  It is the only wood my family supposedly uses for making smoked salmon.  I say supposedly because my mother and I  say to each other “Yes, that’s cottonwood.  Well, I’m pretty sure that is cottonwood.  Hmmm…maybe that is cottonwood.”  Anyway the fish is good.  As times change and our town becomes more populated, of course more people are going after the wood resource.  It’s becoming harder and harder to find found wood.  That is when having a husband who works for the airlines and having a sister who lives in Anchorage where they have trees comes in handy.  We have had a couple of lovely shipments of cottonwood from Barbara.  We, of course, share the smoked fish with her.  Her latest shipment was a couple of chunks of birch.  Considering that my husband, Caleb, bought my mom a new wood carving set for Christmas, and my mother and father bought Caleb a new wood carving set for Christmas, I think we will see some magnificent pieces coming to life from this newly found wood.

The angst of flying.

Flying in and out of Unalaska causes much angst.  Mountains.  Bering Sea.  Birthplace of the winds.  3905 foot runway.  Grown men crying.  Grown men who fish out in the dangerous Bering Sea crying.  You get the picture.  Everyone has a story…or 20 stories to tell of incredible flights in or out of “Dutch”.  The sad issue is that it is just as angst-ridden for those on the ground waiting for loved ones to depart or land.  You either have to be really hard up for money (60%) or love it like you’ve never loved a place before (25%),  or be totally indifferent to your environment (15%) to live here and suffer the angst.

Case in point.  SP’s Mom flew out yesterday.  At our little airport there were 5 Saabs on the ground, a KingAir, and 2 Dash8s.  That’s a lot of propellers.  Jockeying for position on icy ramps.  All completely safe…except in the eyes of an 11 year old boy seeing his mother off.  There was a stiff little breeze, probably 15-20 knots out of the northwest.  Visibility was great when we got there.  Then, the airline, for whatever reason, decided that the passenger plane, which was set to depart at 10:00 am, was not as important as all of the freighters.  So we waited.  And waited.  By the time SP’s mom got on the plane  ( which was about as far away from the terminal as was possible without being off the tarmac), this is what had happened to the weather.

Aleutian flying weather.

As you can see, you can’t even see the end of the runway.  So, even though SP and I had to get home to finish making macaroni salad for a potluck we were to attend at noon, we waited.  He just didn’t want to leave his mom in the hands of the ‘idiots’, I believe was his phrase.  (Angst causes you to think badly of people and to blame them for things that are not in their control, lol.)

Angst.

Then when the weather started to lighten and brighten up, they decided to de-ice the plane, even though not a single one of the other 5 planes that had just taken off within the past 1/2 hour had been de-iced.  And they couldn’t get the de-icing machine to start.  At 11:22, having been at the airport for 2 hours, SP and I decided we could wait no longer.  We had to get that salad made.  We reluctantly departed the airport without having witnessed the plane taking off safely.  This is just not something we EVER do.  Thank goodness the crazy, hilarious, mad-cap antics of getting the salad finished took away our angst.