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. 

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. 

Taking the ferry

Alaska is big. Like, BIG. Sometimes I forget this because I live in a small town and can't drive much longer than an hour in any direction before I run out of road. But even the island on which I live is one of the biggest in the country, and the town of Kodiak is really just a little pinpoint in one corner of this vast island.

One's sense of space and distance changes when one lives in a state with a relatively low population. When we lived in Powell, Wyoming, we joked that people would drive for four hours just to have lunch in Bozeman. Well, in Alaska, sometimes you have to take an airplane just to visit another town. Any town.

Or you might be able to take the ferry.

That's one of two ways to get to any other town or city from Kodiak, and I needed to get to either Anchorage (by plane) or Homer (by ferry) to take a national certification exam as part of completing my degree in speech-language pathology. I chose Homer because I could visit T's parents and give them a chance to spend a little bit of time with Rainbow.

T was already out of town for a conference, so alone with baby and her teddy bear stuffed into a baby carrier, I boarded the Tustumena last Saturday night. 

Did I mention that I hate boats and tend to get motion sick? And that I had to spend eight hours on the ferry?

Well, I got off the ferry in Homer the next morning with stomach contents and sanity intact, thinking to myself, "That wasn't so bad." I took my exam two days later, passed it by a good margin, and got back on the Tustumena in Homer that same night feeling pretty positive about the whole experience.

And then the things that had caused me to be apprehensive about taking the ferry in the first place happened. I boarded the ferry oblivious to the fact that bad weather was in the forecast, and also oblivious to the fact that the ferry crew already knew that the ferry would get into Kodiak four hours later than scheduled (making for a 14 hour ferry ride). 

I don't know if this will mean anything to you, readers, but that night we had 19 foot seas rocking and rolling that vessel. I found out the next morning--after a long, wakeful, and queasy night--about the arrival delay. No, I didn't vomit, but neither was I interested in eating or drinking much, so by the time we docked in Kodiak, poor Rainbow had a sleep-deprived, dehydrated, low-blood-sugar mama on her hands. 

She, of course, handled it all quite well. She's a great traveler. Dare I say that she actually enjoys it. I, on the other hand, found myself swearing that I'll not set foot off dry land again for quite a while.

There's no place like home

The S family is about to be on the move again. We'll be relocating to Omaha, Nebraska (T for about six weeks, Rainbow and me for about two months) in a couple of days so that I can complete my third and final externship in speech-language pathology. And despite the fact that Kodiak's June weather has been disappointingly (if not surprisingly) cold, I'm going to miss my new home. 

Somewhere over the rainbow...my degree lies.

I was really looking forward to summer on Alaska's emerald isle, to possible bear sightings, salmon berries, blueberries, wildflowers, puffins, and the like. I've had to remind myself that Nebraska summers have their own charm. Rainbow will get to experience fireflies, summer thunderstorms, locally grown watermelon, and outdoor swimming. She'll get to spend time with my parents. She'll get more socialization with other kids and adults.

For me, the benefits are a little less...fun. Completing this externship will move me considerably closer to my degree. But gosh darn it, it's going to be really hard! And that's even without the sudden change of going from being with my baby all the time to only seeing her for a couple of hours a day. 

Well, Nebraska, ready or not, here I come.
 

The greatest journey

Some journeys are great because of their long distance, but sometimes the traveling of a very short distance can be accompanied by profound change. 

How short of a distance? Let's say...less than three inches.

That's about how far we travel in what I've decided is the greatest journey of our lives, the journey that brings us from in utero to ex utero.

In the first few minutes of September 6, 2013, my daughter, Rainbow,* completed that journey. Now that I've been an active participant in a birth, I have to say I don't think any trip we drag her on will compare to her epic first journey. 

Welcome to the family, Rainbow!

 *Don't worry; "Rainbow" isn't her real name.