Weak But Not Broken

Friday's here at last and it's been one heck of a week. My fingers are having a hard time finding the keys, as my fine motor skills are somewhat inhibited by the labors of the day. We had a work party up at Perseverance (for overtime of course - how else do you get a bunch of slacker seasonals to put in yet another ten hour day?) that had all ten of us facing the monumental task of shoveling gravel from helicopter bags onto the prepared trail. Each bag held 2,300 lbs of rock, and there were 184 bags. I'll let you do the the math, but the team of us powered through and got 'er done.

I spent the rest of the week camping out at Ella Bay with Tyson and Waylon, brushing out the three mile trail up to the lake (pictured below). It's on the eastern side of Revillagigedo Island and since it's part of the Misty Fiords wilderness area there are no mechanized tools allowed. When it came to clearing the swathes of salmonberry, blueberry, and devil's club swallowing the trail, we did it all by hand, armed only with a pair of loppers and the occasional cross cut saw. I felt like a laborer in a Japanese garden snipping each individual blade of grass with a pair of scissors. And there's nothing like looking up from your path of plant carnage and seeing the enormity of a temperate rain forest to make your actions feel absolutely futile. We built some character on this trip and finished the trail to boot.
The trail was in variable condition but passed through some beautiful open muskeg valleys. There were plenty of salmon leaping in the saltwater, eagles and herons overhead, and rough skinned newts underfoot. Tyson told an anecdote about an unfortunate newt that crawled into a coffee pot one night, and the even more unfortunate campers who made coffee the next morning. Needless to say, all parties ended up deceased (rough skinned newts are deadly poisonous).

After two days of too hot weather, the wind picked up and blew in a front of thick clouds, cool temperatures, and sporadic showers. The sky Wednesday evening was gorgeous, looking over to Rudyard Bay from our beach campsite.

Our kitchen utilized some strategically placed drift wood. Waylon cooks up some stir fry as Tyson contemplates the view and the bugs.

Later there appeared an arc of rainbow that even had a faint twin. Pictures just don't do scenes like this any justice.

The boat ride back was cold, wet, and tumultuous. I slept for most of the way, as well as you can with the boat rearing like a wild thing underneath you. Top that off with a day of shoveling gravel, and I am good and ready for the weekend.

Return to Naha

From Naha Bay to Heckman Lake is a stretch of about six miles. I was there six weeks ago to hike and assess the entire trail and related cabins, three weeks ago to attack encroaching shrubbery on the section between Jordan Lake and Heckman, and now the past four days to complete the brushing process. It occurs to me that I've spent more time and energy there than any other site this summer, which makes this final trip a cause for bittersweet celebration.

This time around I had the chance to participate in the trail inventory with Jacob, the man in charge of monitoring use throughout the area. He checked through a painstakingly detailed list that included every log step, elevated boardwalk, and piece of natural tread, while I followed behind with the mile counter. The contraption consisted of a large wheel with small spokes sticking out at one foot intervals, a unit that clicked as it tallied each foot, and a metal frame of retina-searing orange. Imagine a spindly unicycle with handles instead of a seat and there you have it. I wheeled that thing from the dock at the ocean up, over, and down every single root and rock and stair, all 30,576 feet to Heckman Lake. The first day we got as far as Jordan Lake, then returned the next day to finish the task, for a grand total of 20 miles round trip. And then the fun really began, brushing and clearing the 2 mile section of trail closest to salt water.

Even while my back was aching from bending over to grab salmonberry and devil's club, I couldn't help but marvel at the place. The river was chock full of humpy salmon running up to spawn and the banks were teeming with wildlife. We saw seven black bears the first day, nine the second, a resident family of mergansers, and bald eagles up the wazoo, including a swimming one. Hiking back to camp one evening we came around a corner and suprised the eagle sitting on a rock by the river. It attempted to flee, but after three or four clumsy flaps failed to take off and sank into the water, "oh crap" written all over its face. With a look of forced nonchalance, the eagle turned around and stroked its way to back to dry land in a surprisingly graceful manner.

In other momentous news, on Saturday, 57 years ago, my grandparents got hitched, so happy anniversary to them. Congratulations, MB and PB, I love you guys!

Portland or Bust, Baby

Everyone needs a vacation now and then, even if my job doesn't really feel like work most of the time. Ketchikan is located in a beautiful corner of the world but the town itself has little to offer in the way of culture. When I heard my friend Tina was having a wedding reception in Portland the first weekend of August, I jumped on the chance to head south. My boyfriend Carl came along for the ride and the much needed mental break. We had a grand old time perusing thrift stores (see above), eating delicious ethnic food, and listening to outstanding music at the Pickathon music festival.

Readjusting to the lower 48 took a little bit of time. At the Seattle airport I had to go sit in a corner because all the people and stores and TVs were so overwhelming. The Pickathon gently eased us back into another way of life, where Xtra Tuffs and Carhartts were replaced with plaid shirts and organic bamboo fibers. After a Friday morning of people watching in Portland we headed out to Pendarvis Farm in Happy Valley to take in some musical vibes.

The event was well-organized with a relaxed atmosphere. There were five or six separate stages, which made it hard to decided who to listen to. The two main stages were covered with this amazing tent-like contraption suspended above the lawn.

Wood Stage was buried off in the forest, and we started out there listening to the Foghorn Stringband. Later we came back to catch the Punch Brothers, a bluegrass group from New York City all decked out in suits and ties.

In addition to music this was a celebration of delicious food. Gorgonzola fries, anyone? They were real big on sustainability, so the beer garden was populated by stainless steel cups instead of plastic ones, and the vendors used paper plates and bamboo utensils. There were more recycling bins there than I've seen in three months.

Hayes Carll performed on the main stage, and I had to buy a shirt because his name tickled my funny bone and a CD because his music was amazing. He sounds like the older generation of country singers, with some blues and rock mixed in for good measure. Other awesome acts included Martha Scanlon, a singer-songwriter from Montana, Megafaun, and Breathe Owl Breathe.

Carl and I enjoyed attempting self portraits while listening to music.

The musicians were just getting warmed up as night began to fall.

On Saturday we headed over to Selwood Park to celebrate my friend Tina's wedding with Shea. The main celebration was down in Mexico and this gathering was for all of us who couldn't make it. There was good food, some bumping techno beats blaring from somewhere across the river, and a radiant bride. Congratulations again Tina and Shea!

Now it's back to Ketchikan, which greeted us with a perfectly calm, misty Alaskan evening. In three weeks the parentals are coming to visit, and a month after that I'll be unemployed again. Happy summer to all!