Shuyak Island

Kodiak Island, on which the town of Kodiak is located, is only one of many islands in the Kodiak Archipelago. This large collection of islands is about as big as Connecticut. In addition to Kodiak city, the archipelago has six villages. All but one are located on Kodiak island, and all six are off the road system. 

Most of the archipelago is uninhabited by humans and untouched by marks of civilization such as roads, electricity, and cell phone reception. This includes Shuyak Island, located at the northern end of the Kodiak Archipelago. Most of the island's wilderness is part of Shuyak Island State Park, which T, Rainbow, my parents, and I visited this week. 

So how did we get to such a place? Well, we chartered a six-seater float plane to take us there. Both on the way out to Shuyak Island and on the way back, we flew low enough over the land and ocean that I could see individual seagulls flying over the water. 

It's a strange feeling watching an airplane fly away after dropping you off on a remote island. 

We stayed in Deer Haven, a rustic State Park cabin located about 100 feet from a calm rocky beach on Carry Inlet. We were the first guests of the season and had to do a bit of housekeeping to get the dusty cabin inhabitable for our three-night stay. 

Amenities on the premises included an outhouse (with a door that had rotted off its hinges); an outbuilding equipped with a hanging bucket that could, at least in theory, be filled with hot water for a shower; a stocked wood shed; a metal sink connected to a bucket outside the cabin that could be filled with water; a wood burning stove; and two sets of bunk beds consisting of thin, dusty foam pads glued to wooden boards. The cabin's fresh water supply had been mostly cut off by the local beavers, so we were glad T had thought to bring 10 gallons of drinking water with us.

I suppose we would have been surprised if we HADN'T seen deer from our cabin, given its name.

This picture doesn't do justice to the golden evening light. 

Somehow, miraculously, we had four warm, spectacularly sunny days and spent most of our time on the beach near our cabin. We gathered sand dollars and looked for crabs and jelly fish in the clear water of the inlet. We made a fire on the beach each evening. We cooked our suppers on the open fire and roasted marshmallows while we watched fish jump and listened to Canada geese, oyster catchers, and loons call to each other. 

Marshmallows!

We went for walks in the woods and saw lots of signs of bears but, luckily, never came across one. It wasn't quite the right season for fishing in that area, but my dad still gave it a try for the first time in his life. 

All in all, the trip was everything a vacation should be. T and I were delighted to get to see the more "wild" side of Kodiak and to share that with someone else. 

On the beach with all of our wilderness gear, waiting for the plane to pick us up

Taking the ferry (take 2)

About three weeks ago, we tried to combine business and pleasure by taking a trip to the mainland to take Rainbow to an allergy specialist in Anchorage and to visit T's parents in Anchor Point. This meant taking the ferry again, something I was not looking forward to. My already fairly strong sense of foreboding increased when, the day before we were scheduled to leave, I was struck by an illness so awful that I thought I must have The Flu. (I didn't. At times I thought I had something worse.)

However, thanks to frequent and generous doses of acetaminophen, calm seas, and a selfless husband (he shared a tiny bunk with Rainbow who was so excited to be sleeping "next to Dada! Next to Dada!" that it took over two hours of squirming, talking, and singing before she fell asleep), this ferry trip was much, much better than the last. Once she was asleep, Rainbow slept fairly well on the nighttime ferry to Homer, and she was in good spirits during the day time ferry on the way back to Kodiak at the end of our trip. We even saw a few sea otters and several humpback whales.

While I spent the first half of our vacation sick in bed, T and Rainbow got to spend some quality time with Grandma and "Paka." T went halibut fishing with his dad twice and, as a result, filled our freezer with fish.

Rainbow and Farley were fascinated by each other.

 Once I was better, we did a little exploring of the beach at Anchor Point and some of the sights in nearby Homer.

Beach view in Anchor Point

Rainbow posing with a life-sized sea lion statue at the Alaska Islands and Ocean Visitor Center in Homer

Walking through the Beluga Wetlands on the edge of Homer

Sandhill crane--a bird that links my home state, Nebraska, to my new state. We also saw several moose and a porcupine on the mainland--animals that we don't have in Kodiak.

While in Anchorage, we did two very important things--got some specialty medical services that we can't get in Kodiak (maybe that deserves its own blog post) and went shopping. We hate shopping, but the absence of sales tax combined with a large number of big stores (Super Wal-Mart! Target! And Cabela's! Oh, my!) compelled us to spend a chunk of our vacation pushing carts down aisles.

Sunset in Anchor Point

I love Kodiak and still think it's one of the the most beautiful places in the world, but it was nice to have a change of scenery for a while.  We're already discussing our next "escape." But every means of it--boat, kayak, ferry, plane, four-wheeler, etc.--costs money, something that has been in somewhat short supply for us these last few years (yes, because of choices we have made).   

T and I still don't know how we will handle the challenge of island life long term. A lot of people--even those who have money to get off-island regularly--can't handle it. But we remain determined to enjoy life in Alaska as fully as we can and hopeful that we can keep calling it home for quite a while. 

On eating things

One of the things I love about living in Alaska is the opportunity to gather foods from the wild, or to engage in "subsistence activities," the term used to describe various hunting and gathering activities of Native and rural Alaskans. I haven't gotten into it nearly as much as I've wanted to, although I was downright giddy last fall when we went berry picking. 

The breathtakingly beautiful Monashka Bay

Rainbow and her new favorite possession--a dessicated starfish

More recently, I became aware that fiddleheads, the curled up fronds of young spring plants, are edible. So a couple of weeks ago, on what was pretty much our first warm sunny day in Kodiak, I collected some fiddleheads during a hike at Monashka Bay. I had just enough for a side dish at dinner and yes, it was somewhat time-consuming to wash them, and no, my toddler didn't really eat any, but I felt very proud of myself for providing an interesting--and free!--component to the evening's meal.

I also have grand plans for harvesting seaweed and plan on some serious gathering of salmonberries, blueberries, cranberries, and maybe even mossberries (a.k.a. crowberries). 

More significantly, I have recently made the decision to eat fish. This is a big, big deal for me. I have been vegetarian since I was 12 years old. But I had a freezer filled with salmon and halibut caught my father-in-law in Alaska, a husband willing and able to catch more fish, and a toddler who demonstrated willingness to eat fish, and I had to make a decision. A couple of weeks ago, when we took a trip to the mainland, my husband caught three halibut, and I have to admit I am experiencing an intense sense of satisfaction at the thought that my freezer is full of sustainable, healthy, and hypoallergic (oh, yeah--we also discovered last week that Rainbow has a bunch of food allergies) protein. 

I've never lived any place before where sustainable gathering of wild foods was so possible and common. It was a bit of a surprise that I should come to Alaska--it's the land of igloos, and dog sleds, right? (ha, ha)--for that to happen.

Crab Fest

Every year on Memorial weekend, the good people of Kodiak, Alaska celebrate Crab Fest. It is, by far, the biggest event of the year, and there is an excitement surrounding it that certainly rivals the anticipation of much bigger events in much bigger places, like Mardi gras in New Orleans. 

If you are used to larger, more polished events in more metropolitan locations, you might not be impressed by our small town parade; our midway with modest tents and trailers selling food, drink, and souvenirs; or the relatively meager line up of rides and games. T and I were unimpressed last year. But this year, I got into it--and this even though my poor husband was bedridden with the flu and completely unable to join in the festivities.

Rainbow and I watched Saturday's parade with friends, and I loved seeing her enjoy it, collecting trinkets and books given to her by people in the parade and waving as they went by. Inspired by her enthusiasm for the parade, I did for her something I never thought I'd do--I stood in a line for at least half an hour so that I could pay $5 for her to ride a horse for about 45 seconds.  She loved it so much that she cried when she was taken off the horse.

On Saturday afternoon, Rainbow and I walked by all of the booths, watched people on the rides, and ate somewhat cold (because of the weather, ya know) fish and chips while listening to a brass band play. We didn't do everything there was to do, or see everything there was to see, but I felt somehow very present, and that was nice. 

On Sunday, I left Rainbow at home with T (still semi-bedridden) to watch our neighbors' marimba band perform at Kodiak's beautiful public library. There's something very satisfying about hearing a marimba band when it's 40 degrees and raining outside. If you're interested, here's a video with a few snippets of some of their songs. Our neighbors are the two blonds with the most interesting hair.

Another day, another hike

On Saturday, the sunrise once again revealed blue skies, so we hopped in the car and headed for a trail. This one was technically in town, on fenced-in military-owned land with a walking trail to which the public is allowed access. The trail follows the water with a view of Mill Bay and leads to Spruce Cape and a quiet rocky beach protected from the wind.

Please to enjoy.

Cormorants--either red-faced or double-crested

Common mergansers

Harlequin ducks

Spruce Cape

 

When the sun finally comes out again

There are some legitimate reasons for my lack of posts lately. Besides the fact that I was trying desperately to prepare for my big exam, the weather has been--to put it mildly--uninspiring. The sun came out briefly on Wednesday, four days ago, for the first time in about two weeks, and it didn't stay for long. So when the sun came up today--that was around 9:15 this morning--and revealed relatively clear skies, we knew we had to get out for a bit.

It felt luxurious to go on a hike without rain gear on. 

 

Anywhere you go on a hike, there are bunkers. Always bunkers.

Our walking destination was, as usual, a beach. 

While T and Rainbow were busy playing tag with the waves, I noticed something tiny and pure white hop-running from the beach to beneath a tree. My brain simply couldn't process what my eyes had just seen--until I noticed a little white head peaking curiously at me from under the tree. An ermine! What a delightful and unexpected wildlife sighting.

We needed a day like this. Kodiak is still beautiful, but I'm not yet used to so much rain. Additionally, we're losing about five minutes of daylight each day now, and the upcoming holiday of Thanksgiving, while a lovely holiday, is also a time to reflect on the distance between us and many family members and friends. 

Walking on a trail we'd never taken before, and seeing a little creature I didn't expect to see, helped me remember why we're here, and that even though the town of Kodiak is small, there will always be new things to see on the island. I just have to get out there and look for them.

Low tide

More sunny days

We've been spending every minute we can outside lately so that we can enjoy the sunshine and warm weather. Observe.

I need to identify these birds. Anybody care to help? Fox sparrows?

These salmonberry bushes are absolutely everywhere, both in and out of town. I had better start looking up recipes now.

At the beach in Fort Abercrombie State Historical Park

Rainbow is eating an apple, not a rock...in case you're wondering.

Capturing a quiet father-daughter moment