A Full Day

Today was a full day. We have been squeezing in as much as possible before we head out on Thursday. Simeon had offered the kids and I a trip out to set net with him early in the morning and I, determined not to pass on another boat trip, planned to go along with Micah, Hannah and Malachi. He suggested meeting on the beach of a friend’s because his sites were right off that point. I got detailed directions from her as to how to find the driveway, house, and the trail to the beach. Good thing too, because it was tucked away pretty good and would have been hard to find. But, after heading to the wrong house first, we finally found the right spot and the right trail and the sauna at the end on the beach just as Simeon was pulling up.

It was a beautiful morning. Not exactly sunny, but clear enough to see the mountains across the inlet - one of them Mt. Redoubt which we call “Micah’s mountain”. He was born the day it erupted and blasted ash all over the place. We still have a little bottle that we collected that day and it became his namesake - Micah Redoubt. Mist and fog rose off of the pinnacles surrounding the water and made for a kind of beautiful that feels quite and peaceful. There is something quite amazing about making your livelihood on the water. Every day, coasting over the waves with the wind in your face.

We stopped at the first of 6 nets and peered over the edge of the boat down into the dark depths of the cold Alaskan waters. the net floated out, 18 feet deep. The fish, if there were any, stood out against the dark, their silver sides flashing in the black. Micah, already a little experience under his belt, reached out with the gaff to hook the top of the net. We pulled the net up into the boat, hauling hand over hand, until we came to a fish. Sometimes the fish was right at the top and very little net had to be pulled in. Other times picking a fish might require several pulls of net dragged into the boat until the fish was in. Then you worked to free the fish from the netting, usually feeding it through one side of the net as it dangled above the deck. All the fish were tossed to the deck until the net was completely void of fish. And then we’d turn to slit the gills (bleed the fish), which helps preserve the meat, before tossing it into a large tote in the center of the boat. Onto net number 2.

If I could buy set net sites tomorrow I would do it. If I could have my office be the ocean, my car be a skiff, my work be the fish, I would do it. The seasonal hard work holds an appeal in that there is an end to it. The nature of the lifestyle holds appeal because it is unique and occurs in a location only few will travel.

Call it a mid-life crisis, a spiritual awakening, a Come-to-Jesus moment, whatever, but if someone gave me the opportunity to buy them out, I would sign the papers. I’ve given the farm life 9 years which is longer than I had ever been or done anything, and I am ready for a change. I'm no stranger to hard work. But the relentlessness of the farm and the way it ties you down is getting to me.

We pulled in to the beach and made our way back up to the road where Tim met us and then it was breakfast at Ron’s for beans and garlic bread. We brought eggs and bacon to breakfast it up a little. At one point Ron and his amazing wife, Camille and their three girls had attended the Island Church and lived down the road from us in their yurt (eventually building a cabin). They had traveled the country in a bus painted with Looney Toons characters and made these beautiful cutting boards with his girls that they sold to fund their travels. I was the honored recipient of one of them for my birthday one year on which he had inscribed, “To Charity, the picture of Motherhood”. I was flattered because he does not seem to be a man easily impressed. Camille was the woman who had sat me down to tell me all about childbirth before I had Abbey because my mom wasn’t there to do it. Her dark Californian beauty in this rough place and the rough lifestyle they lived always impressed me. “You have to embrace the pain! Ride the waves. Pick a focal point,” She said amongst other things that I didn’t really understand but appreciated her concern for me. She was one of the most passionate and life-filled people I think I’ve ever met, a simple, child-like joy about her. And she was also incredibly smart with a degree in Marine Biology and did crazy things like scuba diving instructions and fixing boat propellors underwater. I had caught her at the 4th of July parade for a few moments before she got on the ferry to head to Oregon for most of the summer. I was sad to miss her during our visit. Anyway, her husband Ron was a bit of an enigma. At once lovable and sweet - the kids still remember him giving them gum when they were little - and yet with a very rough edge to him. He was a determined mountain man, even in his retirement he worked as a bear guard for people working in wilderness areas.

He and Camille were no longer together and that made conversation a little strange. When we had left they were still together with the three girls, and now… We talked about his three daughters and what they were up to as I cooked bacon in his cabin and caught him up on our lives during breakfast around the fire. The kids rode his 4 wheelers and shot his arrows and we hiked his trail and then it was time for round 2 of fishing.

We met Simeon at the dock and dropped everyone at the beach while Tim, Micah and I joined Sim out fishing. He still had the gear at the bow of boat for us: rubber pants, coats, and gloves. You might skip the coats on a warm day, like today (the SUN was out!) but you never skipped the rest. You’d be soaked and slimy otherwise. It was a stunning day to be on the water.

We headed back to find Moriah had paddle boarded over to the scow with Naomi to tender the fish.

We barely had time to visit for a few before we headed back into town to meet Oliver for dinner out at his place at the head of Seldovia bay. I meant what I said about squeezing it all in. I have to admit it really surprised me how many folks were interested in catching up with us after 10 years of absence. It was another pleasant reminder that you really build relationships, not just acquaintances in these remote places. You have time to invest when there are just a few. And the bond of living out here, all “in it together” really makes ties that don’t just disappear. You have really done life with these people and it’s not easily forgotten. I had been the one to forget in my years across the continent. But it was all coming back and it was hitting my children hard. They all understood so completely now just why we wanted to bring them back here. It was not something you wanted to just tell stories about. It’s something to really live out the experience yourself. The only problem is, it makes it hard to leave.

Oliver and Tina Haines had been bringing their three kids here since 1990 something. They stumbled across Seldovia and bought a 100 year Native land lease with a small cabin on it and have been up every summer from Florida ever since. Their kids are grown and gone now but Oliver and Tina come up for 6 months in their retirement. The view from their porch has to be the most beautiful view in the area. I have not seen anything to match. It heads straight down the mouth of the bay, Mt. Illiamna visible on a clear day. The area surrounding is all Native land so there is barely a building to be seen - the surrounding wilderness is unmarred by anything save the occasional whale or boat. Behind the house is lush forest with spongey green moss, a swing and trails leading to the outhouse, the woodpile and another quiet deck. It’s a pristine spot with an atmosphere of solitude to go with it.

It was fun to catch up for the evening but we had to time our departure with the tides. They also live in a spot that depends on the movement of the water and will also miss church and other things that may require specific arrival times. Tonight we had to leave before the tide was too low. Oliver had to clamber into the water up to his knees to hold the boat in place low enough for us to climb in but high enough to keep the motor from hitting bottom. We all had to walk up to our boot tops. Most of our rubber boots have sprung leaks during our rough treatment of them this trip. The little ones got piggy back rides on daddy. Out of us girls, Hannah’s boots were the only ones still intact. She climbed on first and tossed her boots to shore for me, and then I tossed them to Abbey once I climbed aboard. We made it work without getting wet at least. Because getting things to dry out in that camper is near to impossible. A full but fantastic day came to an end with one last boat ride up Seldovia Bay as the sun was setting as much as it planned to set that night

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Back into Seldovia Harbor...