Cohen Island

Wednesday is hardly a day I can mention.  For most of the family it was a glorious boat ride where they witnessed hundreds of whales.

I, on the other hand, woke up with my cold much worse.  Not sure why after a kayak in the drizzle the day before.  Zippy, too, had been incredibly fussy the evening before and her little eyes had dark circles.  She certainly had not been getting enough sleep lately.  Abbey didn’t want to go fishing.  The idea of all day on a boat with all of us crowding her again sounded miserable.

I waffled back and forth about what to do.  I really wanted to go.  A free boat ride is not something to be turned down lightly around here.  But I also didn’t want to make Oliver sick, make Zip feel worse, and his boat was small.  Last time he said only 5 could come - 9 seemed like a big jump.  I have been on over-crowded fishing boats with everyone clamoring for gear and a spot to see and it’s not always that fun.  And I was tired of “forcing” the 18 year old to go along with it all.  Maybe a quieter day with just the three of us would be better and everyone else would have more room to fish.  So I made the “responsible” decision to stay behind with Zip and Abbey and get the laundry done before we headed back out to the bay tomorrow.  I surely wouldn’t have time to get the laundry done by the time everyone got back around dinner time.

Biggest mistake ever.  My mopey teen was reluctant to talk to anyone that wasn’t on her cell phone and Tim kept sending me pictures of Orcas and sea otters and all the fish they were catching.  While I did laundry.  I tried really hard not to spiral into that regretful place I can wallow in when I know I made the wrong choice.  I should have stuffed cotton up my nose, brought Zip a blanket and pillow, and kicked Abbey’s mopey butt onto the boat.  But hindsight is 20/20 and it was too late.  I was doing the laundry.  And they filled the cooler so fast that they were back by 1 - plenty of time to have done laundry afterwards. Harumph.

Just let that be a lesson to all you folks.  When faced with a decision between fun and responsible, choose fun.  Life is too short for laundry and colds and grouchy teenagers.  I never regret fun, but I often regret the responsible.

Anyway, enough about that miserable day.  We finished it off with bear stew, smoked salmon and Bocce ball at Glenn’s which made me feel a bit better.  And then we prepared to spend the rest of the week in Tutka bay.

We had made plans weeks ago to spend the night with the Daigle’s this week. Originally we planned to sleep in the church but then Ann called to let us know that “Cohen had opened up”. Cohen Island is her family’s own personal island.  I know. It’s crazy.  I told you before that Ann’s father was a smart man.  He had spent a lot of time scoping out these bays as a young man in the 50’s as a cartographer and he had handpicked some prime spots.  Cohen island was available to homestead.  So he and his wife built a cabin - which is still in excellent condition today - and grew a crop. The stipulation was one year on the land with a crop and you could purchase it for $1.25 an acre.  So they grew Kentucky blue grass (which counted as a crop!!!!) and purchased the entire island for $27 around 1958.  WOW.  Talk about the right place at the right time.

 Wish I had a better picture of all our gear loaded in the bow of the skiff!

Ann let's the boys drive :)

Ownership of the island is now divided among Ann and her siblings.  Ann really wanted us to spend the night in the cabin, which would have been downright awesome, but it also meant we wouldn’t be able to spend time with the other folk who were fishing that day - Simeon and his family and Pat and Caleb.  We opted to come back to the church for the night even though a night on a remote island would have been pretty epic. Maybe next summer…

Cohen in the distance...

Cohen is pretty amazing.  It’s across from another huge island - Yukon.  Which is also privately owned.  In fact, a few years into our lives in Alaska, one of my favorite pilots I flew with during my one year teaching stint, had engine trouble over Yukon.  The plane went down on the island, thankfully not on the water. No lives were lost except for the unborn of a woman on board.  It was another stark reminder of just how blessed I had been flying pregnant with Abbey all those months.  There had been some seriously hairy flights.  I remember one where it was the dead of winter.  A snowstorm had blown in while we were in Port Graham. I was traveling with the speech pathologist and we discussed the possibility of staying the night in one of the back rooms of the school - set up with some sketchy beds for just such an occasion.  I was not excited about the prospect, pregnant and already uncomfortable.  I was grateful that the pilots (whom we got to know quite well over the year) were very understanding of wanting to sleep in your own bed and always did their utmost to get us back.  But it was VFO out here, Vision Flight Only. Meaning that if you can’t see, you can’t fly.  No instruments, no lights, etc.  With the heavy snow that day, if we waited too long, we were stuck.  Andy, who lived in Seldovia instead of Homer like most of the other pilots, said he could at least get us to Seldovia if we left then and there.  Danielle, the SP with me, would have to stay in Seldovia for the night.  But accommodations there were much nicer than the Port Graham school.  So we loaded up as the snow came down.  Andy told us that he could make it to Seldovia because he would be able to see the contrast of the water against the land and follow that back to Seldovia Bay.  Unlike crossing to Homer where you would have a vast body of 16 miles of water to cross and could easily get lost with no reference point.  And so we watched the coastline.  I remember keeping my eyes on it too.  It was really the only thing to see because in front and behind was nothing but a blanket of white.  I never remember feeling concerned.  Andy was a competent pilot who flew all over Alaska, had grown up here too.  People who can exude confidence despite what they may be feeling do a lot to quell any rising fears in those of us who would be too ignorant to have them unless the person in charge seemed fearful. So I never knew if there were ever afraid of anything because they were pretty darn good at keeping a poker face.

There was one flight though.  There’s always at least one.  We were heading from Homer to Seldovia after a long day of doctor’s appointments and grocery shopping.  It was just me and another local woman and I.  It was raining and windy.  One of those days on the bay that most certainly would not be “nice” and would have kept even the best fishermen at home in their warm cabins.  But we could still see enough to fly and it was the last flight of the day.  Andy wanted to get home to his family in Seldovia too.  So we climbed aboard. It was the first time I really felt the gusts of wind play with the plane wings.  Lifting us one minute, they shifting us to the left, a jerk to the right.  It was far from a smooth ride.  It was not comforting to me that the woman with us did not like to fly, and despite the fact that she had lived here her entire life and had flown many, many time, was gripping the handle over her head with a death grip and had distinctly uncomfortable look on her face.  Coming in for the landing really topped it off.  The way that plane jerked around as it came closer to the ground, the rain hitting the windshield, and the woman screaming, yes, she was screaming as we came in, made for a terrifying few seconds (although it felt like several minutes) before we touched down.  Andy was completely unperturbed.  His face unreadable, his demeanor calm and collected.  I’m sure he had seen much worse and was never once concerned that we were nothing more than just fine.  I guess I’ll never know just how he actually was feeling but he sure put on a stoic face.

Anyway, major tangent.  We spend a good portion of the day exploring the island and hearing Ann’s stories.  Pat and Caleb joined us for hot dogs over the fire on the beach on a fishing break. 

Then they headed back out while we hiked

around to the beach on the other side.  This time it really was a nice day with glorious sunshine and warm enough to be out in short sleeves.  My carhartts felt too hot for the first time this summer.  But I was grateful for their study material as we fought our way through the overgrown trail.  I told you all about the undergrowth here - painful stuff.  It was one of those incredible you-can’t-beat-it kind of Alaskan summer day.  The sun on your face, the light splashing off the water, and the vibrant colors of the sea and the landscape were breathtaking.  Not to mention being completely alone on a private wilderness island was pretty dang amazing. 

I was so grateful Ann was willing to share her special place with us.  If we weren’t short on time, spending a night in the homestead cabin would have been wonderful.  But we, the kids especially, didn’t want to miss out on a few more hours of precious time with these people.  So, we headed back to the Daigle’s island where we paddle boarded and kayaked a bit while we waited for Simeon to come back in from fishing.  He had promised the kids some water sports and, having never tried either wakeboarding or water skiing, that was too much to pass up.  Not to mention the company of their family and the three little boys was one of my kids favorite things about Alaska.  We were lucky enough to get a whole evening of sun so we could eat dinner out on the deck in the sunshine.  It reminded me of so many meals on that same spot on other summer days.  Salmon fresh caught just a few hours ago roasted over the fire and company even better.  I was glad we hadn’t missed this opportunity for one more visit before we left.  Island camping would have been fun, but we would have missed this.

Since the sun is still up at 9:30 and so are teenagers, Simeon took them out on the water.  I’m so sad I forgot to take a picture of them in their wetsuits.  Wetsuits are the ONLY possible way to play in the water up here, even on the warmest summer days.  You’d freeze otherwise.  It’s amazing how warm they keep you.  Abbey, Micah, Hannah, and Caleb all went out to try their hand (or feet) at it.  Surprisingly, despite the fact that she is always claiming she is the uncoordinated, un-athletic one, Abbey was the only one out of the bunch to get up on the wakeboard.  I was proud of my girl.  And I was glad she had some athletic success and showed up her brother and sister for a change.  After they got tired of being dragged around by the boat, they went cliff jumping on Tim and Jane’s island.  Afterwards the older kids continued late into the night at Simeon and Naomi’s playing games while Simeon went out on another round of fish picking.

For the rest of us, it was time for bed on a sunny night in a building full of windows.  Tim did his best to cover them up and it was pretty good.  I still didn’t sleep well.  Apparently I’m now too accustomed to a cramped and noisy camper that is cold and damp. Haha.  but we just let ourselves sleep in a bit the next morning.