Car Camping

Saturday was by far one of the most beautiful days I’ve spent in Wrangell. The temperature definitely hit 70 degrees which is a big deal here, huge.

It took us a while to get everything together but by 2 in the afternoon (perhaps a bit later) Adam and I were on the road in Kevin’s truck – tent, sleeping bags, grill in tow – officially on my first camping expedition in Alaska, albeit car camping.

We had planned to go on Sunday, given the Memorial Day weekend, but it was way too amazing on Saturday not to go immediately, and thank god, because it was definitely grey and drizzly on Sunday. I had never been exploring on the island. My knowledge of the island extended to 11 ½ mile which is where Vena lives. I’ve been a few miles beyond but not that much. What does lie beyond is miles of gravel road drivable by a variety of vehicles depending on where it is.

Our goal was to meet Phil and Kirsten around dinnertime at Earl West Cove where they were kayaking. Earl West Cove is on the eastern shore of Wrangell Island. On the way we stopped at Three Sisters Overlook, Anita Bay Overlook, and Lower Salamander, which is where I think we ended up setting up camp since Earl West Cove was crowded with locals. The local thing to do for Memorial Day is go up the river to the hot tubs and stay in your cabin or your friend’s cabin, so supposedly the poor man’s Memorial Day is spent camping on the island. This is not something I would ever say – just hearsay.

We drove on roads that seemed right out of a video advertising Alaska as a travel destination, sat before views of still snowy mountains, felt the sun, and perched on rocks drinking beer waiting for Phil and Kirsten in the midst of such idyllic scenery. Sometimes life on this island seems too good to be true – sometimes, as in when the sun is out.

They finally did appear as two dots coming out of the channel. They, too, seemed like figures out of a promo video. The water was calm and they could’ve been the spokespeople for kayaking, even though it was only Kirsten’s first time doing so.

Dinner was an ordeal. We had a grill with a deteriorated bottom, no spatula, no condiments. But our bacon cheeseburgers turned out better than expected. We thought the fallen bacon would make good bear bait, but alas, there were no bears to be seen all the rest of the night or the next morning.

Phil and Kirsten took off after dinner and Adam and I were left with a three star evening (literally, there were only three stars in the sky that night, and two of them were very faint) and conversation. Luckily, we actually have things to talk about and tell each other, so much so that falling asleep in a tent in a sleeping bag was actually quite easy.

Derby Days (don't look if you have issues seeing bloody fish)

On the way back to work from my mid-day stroll through town, I saw a fish being weighed in outside the Totem Bar. It was 30.1 lbs. Not enough to make the top ten Derby list but still sizable enough to get weighed in and officially entered.

As of May 13, Wrangell has had fishing fever. Not that they don’t always year-round because they truly do. But the King Salmon Derby is another thing altogether. In it’s 54th year, the Derby promises big fish and big prizes. Big is dependent on weight, not length and people go out to fish before work, after work, on the weekends, every moment they get to wait for the big one.

The Derby lasts until June 11. First place gets $6,000; second place $4,000; third place $2,000 and then there are weekly prizes, youth prizes, various awards, bonuses, special derby days, on and on and on. Last year’s biggest fish was 42.6 and the all time biggest fish caught in the Wrangell Salmon Derby weighed 74.4. That was caught by Doris Iverson in 1955.

So far I’ve gone out once for derby fishing, which also happened to be my first time fishing all together. Matt took Maria and I out on his boat a couple of weeks ago. We left Shoemaker around 8 a.m. and stayed out at Grey’s Pass for a good six hours or so. Salmon fishing usually involves trolling but Grey’s Pass has a current so we anchored the boat and just let the water pass us by.

I knew I’d enjoy fishing as it’s just about conversation while waiting for a bite. I learned how to bait the herring on the hook. King Salmon are huge fish so the bait itself seemed like something I wouldn’t mind eating. We put the rods in the holders and just wait.

While I didn’t catch anything myself (average fishing time before actual catching is supposed to be around 8 hours or maybe it’s 11), it was an awesome experience seeing Maria catch one and Matt two. I saw the whole process – the initial excitement of the bite, the reeling in slowly and wondering if it’s actually something and not just a crab, seeing the fish surface as it thrashes about, the even more cautious reeling in, someone else on the boat getting the net ready, the actual netting, and then the landing. It was all very exciting. My job was reeling in the other rods once we realized it was a fish so that it wouldn’t get caught in the other lines. I must say, I was good at my job.

What was amazing about the experience was that it was, for me, an initiation of sorts. I finally got to experience the one thing people in Wrangell hold in the highest esteem. Hunting, I suppose, comes in at a close second, but fishing is where their hearts are. More than just their hearts, their passion, their livelihood. So I was extremely grateful to Matt for taking me out on the water and Maria for giving me a large chunk of her 38-inch fish.

We didn’t stay out at Grey’s as long as we would’ve liked. The wind picked up a lot making the ride back painfully bumpy for Maria and I who had to sit in the front to keep the boat weighted down properly.

The sun is out right now and I hope it stays out for the weekend. I’d like to get out on the water.

Graduation

It’s been six months to the day since I moved to Wrangell. I left New York on November 16, arrived in Petersburg, Alaska, on the 17th and then took the ferry to Wrangell on the 18th.

In eleven more days it’ll be one whole year since I left Hong Kong.

Tomorrow is graduation at the Wrangell High School. Thirty seniors will graduate in the high school gym. All the senior activity around town recently has been making me pretty nostalgic. To think about that last class, that last exam, last paper – I can only impose those memories now because I don’t recollect any of those things from high school. They are clearer in regards to college.

The seniors here are pampered upon, given free lunches, a multitude of parties, a two-page spread in this week’s paper. Wrangell’s hopefuls.

Can you recall how much potential was brewing that day you graduated from high school? So much life and energy and hope. And so sunny.

Honeymoon

This past weekend in Wrangell was phenomenal if only for the reason that the weather was sunny and clear, enabling everyone in town to play outside. Dan Trail (who is known around town as Organic Dan because every Tuesday he sells organic vegetables in town from his silver truck. He just taught me to eat dandelion heads) invited Adam, Phil, and I out on his boat for its rechristening. Last fall, Dan had messed his boat up pretty badly and it’s been in the shop for a long time until only recently.

Dan wanted to go biking up a logging road to reach a place to view Mt. Bessy. As I was a late bloomer when it came to riding a two-wheeler (I didn’t learn until I was 9 or 10), I’ve never fully developed the competence or confidence. Therefore, I haven’t ridden a bike in a long time, let alone own one here. So it was a mad scramble to find me a bike to ride even though I had the sneaking suspicion I would not want use it anyway.

We ended up borrowing an old huffy with a squeak horn, no gears, and no breaks from the garage of some friends who are currently away. Knowing my concerns with bike riding, Phil said I could use his bike, a spiffy black one with gears and brakes, and he’d take the huffy.

We loaded four bikes into Dan’s boat and left from Shoemaker Harbor. The water was like glass, smooth and still, making the ride over to Honeymoon on Etolin Island even shorter than it was.

I was right in my suspicions. The logging road was quite steep. After attempting to walk it up a ways, I gave Phil’s bike back to him and abandoned the huffy on the side only after much debate about whether I would regret it later when the rest of them were gliding swiftly down the road on the way back to the boat. I made it clear that I would not regret it.

There’s no other way to express it other than writing it was just one of those perfect days, in regards to weather, company and conversation, sights and sounds. We ate the heads off of devil’s club plants and dug our fingers into a ridge that was pure clay.

The three of them were nice about riding ahead and then lagging behind so I could be with them. When we figured out we didn’t have that much time before having to head back to the boat, they took off full speed so they could reach the Mt. Bessy view, which they claimed just opened up right in front of them. That was regrettable, not being able to see that, or the black bear they spotted. I have yet to see my first bear.

Part of the way down the hill, I rode on the back of Dan’s bike which was scary enough for me. It was a bit daunting to realize that I have a legitimate fear of bikes. I’ve always prided myself on my lack of fear when it comes to doing daring things – skydiving, bungee jumping, moving to Wrangell – but bike riding has seized me.

We hung out on the water for a bit and then went to a beach, which we ended up naming Big Log Beach. Dan and I took off our shoes to feel the sand between our toes. I haven’t felt that in a while, and it felt excellent. We took some sand back with us and I sprinkled some on my bed to stimulate the feeling of living the life of a beachgoer, which I once had in Australia.

We also, as you can see, built an adult seesaw.










We got back to town around 5:30 which meant I had thirty minutes to run around town before everything closed at 6 not to reopen again until Monday morning. I had to buy groceries from both Bobs’ and City Market and had to get my fishing license, king salmon stamp, and Salmon Derby ticket as I was going fishing for the first time the following day. I will write about that in my next entry when I get a hold of some pictures.

May in Wrangell

It’s official: The sun rises in Barrow and does not set again until August.

Funny. Because the sun hasn’t shown its face around here, in Wrangell, in quite some time. I’m sure you don’t know where Barrow is, as I certainly did not know where it was until I moved here. Barrow is on the northern most tip of Alaska. Lonely Planet has this thing called Bluelist and Barrow made the Lonely Planet’s Bluelist of most remote places on earth, top ten, and ever since reading that, I want to go there. It seems like an easy task since I now reside in the state, but traveling in Alaska is one of the most costly aspects about living here. Another preventative thing is that fact that I work and cannot leave on a moment’s whim.

A moment’s whim – how great to exist always in that.

I had my radio show tonight. Or rather, I filled in for Karl’s radio show. It’s been my fourth consecutive Wednesday night spot and next week is my last one, unless I find my own. It was a great show. Maria, Dan and Phil helped me out lots and we played an awesome array of music. From a song off the Life Aquatic soundtrack to Hobo Jim to NKOTB (aka. New Kids on the Block circa Step by Step, since the radio collection did not have Hangin’ Tough). KSTK happens to be the only radio station in Wrangell, which means if anyone in Wrangell had the radio on between 7-9 p.m. then they were listening to the show. There is something amazing about lack of choice when it comes to radio.

It’s May in Wrangell, which currently means 39 degrees (Fahrenheit) and cloudy. And I’m ok with that. Scary.

FYI

When I came to work at the Sentinel I noticed their pens which has on them their masthead, address, phone number, and this web address, www.WrangellSentinel.com

Don’t bother to go to it though as this weird page will come up that has nothing to do with the paper.

These pens, like other local business pens, are floating around everywhere.

Recently, the Wrangell Sentinel, the paper I work at, has gone online. There are still glitches, as in my byline isn’t on all the stories, but that’s ok. The stepchild of the Petersburg Pilot (http://www.petersburgpilot.com) is actually moving into the 21st century.

To keep up with news in the rural, Southeast Alaska community of Wrangell, check out http://thewrangellsentinel.com

As it is a weekly paper, the stories change every week on Fridays (I think). Currently there are three stories up which I wrote, but my name is only attached to one of them.

For Jenn and Sara

create your own visited countries map

9%, not too shabby

Release of Liability

Mike, the med student, showed this to me months ago. It’s a form from the local medical center that was given to him when his family medicine rotation called for him to travel to neighboring island, Prince of Wales, to conduct medical rounds. As it turned out, he never did sign the form even though he did go on the trip.

“RELEASE OF LIABILTY FOR MEDICAL STUDENTS TRAVELING TO REMOTE CLINICS

Your clerkship may coincide with a scheduled remote clinic visit. We are currently holding these clinics in six small communities, some without road access approximately 60 miles from Wrangell. While we believe that doing these clinics, like any other clinical experience, is valuable for your education, we also acknowledge that few people will do this kind of work and there is some risk involved in traveling to these locations. We will be traveling either by private charter boat or charter air carrier and old dilapidated cars and trucks. Due to the rugged nature, cool climate, and frequent poor weather conditions, there is an inherent risk of becoming lost, running aground, or being caught in dangerous conditions. While these conveyances are supplied with the usual emergency supplies and devices, you need to acknowledge the risk of an accident resulting in your death, most likely by being crushed on impact at high speed. Almost as likely is the possibility of being drowned and some small chance of burning to death. If you are so lucky as to survive the crash, you would have the opportunity to die of exposure (or be consumed by large carnivorous animals or other members of your party). If you do survive you may have crippling injuries that will affect you the rest of your life, which may be short.”