Another summer begins

It's been a long time since I've blogged. It's our third year living in Kodiak, and it's become increasingly difficult to see the place with fresh eyes, as a visitor or tourist might. That doesn't mean my love for Kodiak has diminished. It's just become more ordinary and comfortable.

So I'll get back to blogging by writing about our recent trip to Anchor Point, Alaska, and then to Eugene, Oregon, to visit family.

Once again, we took the 9-hour ferry ride from Kodiak to Homer. This is becoming an annual trip to which Rainbow looks forward. Since I was traveling on the later end of being 7 months pregnant, I also looked forward to the physical freedom of movement and access to bathrooms that taking the ferry affords.

Waiting to head out on the ferry

We spent a few days with T's parents in Anchor Point. T went fishing with his dad, while Rainbow and I hung out with his mom for most of the time. Rainbow really enjoyed the time she had with her grandparents.

After a few days, we hopped on airplanes (three in total) to visit T's sister, her wife, and their three kids. Rainbow was particularly smitten with her older girl cousin. Inspired by the boldness of the older children, Rainbow tried several new things, including chicken chasing/holding, skateboarding, and riding a scooter. 

This is pretty much the meanest I have ever  seen my child be to an animal.

Helping Auntie S feed the chickens

The Mainland

As mentioned in a previous post, we spent the last two weeks of July on the Mainland. I'll just say here, bluntly, that we tried to pack too many things into one short trip--including family time, shopping, fishing, cultural experiences, and camping.

And now I'm going to try to pack too many things into one blog post.

First of all, the ferry ride: We had the good fortune to ride on the Kennicott, the larger of the two ferries that stop in Kodiak, and I have to say that, while the trip was not without queasiness, it was smoother and more enjoyable than I expected. 

Guess who loves riding on the ferry?

No ferry ride is complete without whale sightings.

One highlight of the trip for Rainbow and for and me was watching T and his dad go dip net fishing for sockeye salmon. Rural Alaska residents, a category that includes us, can apply for a subsistence fishing license that allows them to catch significantly more fish via dipnetting than people with "regular" fishing licenses. 

When the sockeye are coming in, hundreds of people drive their vehicles on the beach near the mouth of the Kenai River. Whole families come. They set up lawn chairs and grills. It's not rowdy, it's not a party scene, but there is a feeling of celebration. These people are catching food for their families. The fishermen and fisherwomen carry their ridiculously large nets into the water, where they stand and wait. The fish literally swim straight into the nets on their way to the river. On good days, a dozen fish can be caught quickly and easily.

T's dad in his fancy dry suit

T and his dad waiting for the fish to swim by

T and his dad didn't end up going on good days, but they did catch enough to get some salmon in our freezer. I'm thankful to them and to the fish.

Rainbow sharing a snack with her grandpa while he takes a break from fishing

Girl needed a day of rest after her big dip net fishing outing.

Most of the time when T and his dad were fishing, Rainbow and I hung out with T's mom. We also spent some time in Homer, Alaska, a beautiful, artsy town at the end of Alaska's well-traveled Sterling Highway. T's parents live near Homer. 

Rainbow got lots of snuggle time with her grandma.

View from the playground at Karen Hornaday Park playground in Homer

This seagull relentlessly shadowed this sea otter, hoping to get some nibbles of the crab the otter was eating.

We borrowed his parents' truck and camper for a five-day camping trip with stops in Anchorage, near Whittier, in Hope, and at Skilak Lake. 

Parents/Grandparents

Today my parents left after spending two weeks here with us. Kodiak was very kind to them, providing much more sun and warmth than usual. The combination of sunshine and guests to show off our island to has helped T and me to finally feel like it's summer.

It's been years since we've had a grill, and we were looking forward to "grilling weather" for months.

I took this picture at the beginning of a hike that we didn't end up taking--the trail was too overtaken by brush.

But my parents' presence and departure also brought on a bought of reflection and introspection. Their visit brought into sharper focus for me both the things I love and the things I don't love (I won't say "hate") about Kodiak. 

My blog has largely been dedicated to the best of Kodiak--the sunny days, the breathtaking scenery, the wildlife, the unique culture. I try not to dwell on the less positive (and, I think, less interesting) aspects of living here. However, what's on my mind right now is the impact that living in such a place has on relationships. 

Many people come to Kodiak with a strong but temporary desire

for the unique experiences that living here offers. I have lived here fewer than three years and have already watched several friends move away. Particularly as an introvert, I find the prospect of continuing to face such losses to be rather painful. The family members we live "close" to--T's parents--are not as easy to visit as I had hoped. Most of our friends and family members are too far to visit with any degree of regularity. My awareness of this was much more acute with my parents here, especially as I watched them interact with Rainbow, who immediately and intuitively treated them as family.

When my parents got on the ferry this evening, I cried in no small part because the cost and distance and time that would soon stand between me and them felt overwhelming. I do not like parting with loved ones when I do not know when (or, I'm sorry to say, if) I will see them again. This will continue to happen over and over again for as long as I live here or anywhere similar. 

When I jump down this rabbit hole of introspection, I wonder why I don't just move "home." But it's not that simple anymore. Where is home? Nebraska, where my parents live? That would put us thousands of miles away from T's parents and his sister. And unless we move to New Zealand, we'll always be far away from T's brother. And what about my friends, flung across the continent and world? 

I can't bring all the people I love to one place, so is it really so bad to just live in a place that I love, regardless of its distance from all of them?

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

Another year, another Crabfest

Here in Kodiak, the last day of school marks the start of Crabfest. This local event has been known to disappoint folks from big cities expecting something a little more, um, big, but this year everyone was excited about Crabfest. The reason was simple: the weather. We had a streak of exceptionally warm, sunny weather that had the whole town grinning from ear to ear all weekend. 


The weather made it easy to stay out all day Saturday, starting with the morning parade (Iris got to march--with me, of course--as a "Shrimper").

Interesting piece of trivia: These friends will (sadly) soon be moving to the New Orleans area and will live very close to where we lived in Metairie, Louisiana over a decade ago.

Rainbow once again rode a horse and enjoyed it with serious intensity.

We also discovered that Rainbow absolutely loves king crab. She ate about $20 worth of it over the weekend.

That's her "rock star" face. She makes it when shes happy or excited.

After looking at booths, eating crab, and having a (short-lived) adventure in the bounce house, our first day of Crabfest ended with a toddler passing out on her mama's back. She woke up from that nap muttering, "Where we going?" I loved her presumptuous question, the idea that there was certainly somewhere interesting to go, and her readiness to go there. It's summer. I want to have that openness and readiness, too. Let's get going, summer. Kodiak, here we come!