I think this is the only place where you order a pizza, take a four wheeler to go get it, fuel it up and pay $4.33 for one gallon of gas, find out the guy running the only service station around is from Cuernavaca, Mexico (mind you this is Naknek, Alaska), and go fishing all in the same day.
It has been a bit slow but all is well. Went dry on this tide and we're taking a deep breath. I'm praying for the hit of the run just like I pray for snow. You should, too.
I need a new pair of shoes!
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
ael;wrkjasds9
Ten minutes to five in the AM...just pulled into the dock for a shower. Of all things to drink at this hour, I was just offered a Busch Light after having had a stiff cup of coffee on the boat on the way in. So, cheers to you and the Alaska dawn.
This thing has gone off with a bang more or less. We're running around the clock now and hitting it hard. Had a fresh water line break in the engine room but that's the most serious problem we've got. It will be repaired and we're taking off here in a few.
The weather has calmed down but the last 48 we've seen a bit of everything. In the middle of the night last night it was super...SUPER cold. Felt like it could snow. Fog, mist, wind. Radar. The stove had gone out for awhile and we had to climb into a cold cabin after working on a really cold deck, which sucked. It's back up and running, though - just had to literally beat the carburetor with a wrench!
Otherwise, so far so good. The peak of the run definitely is not here yet. But we're going steady and life is good.
A sweet tidbit - we delivered to the Bellingham-based Debra D a couple days ago out at the Y (a deepwater anchorage in the middle of the Bay). We'd never been introduced to them before, and in the midst of heaving, hissing swells, whining hydraulics, and slamming up against the tender as we were delivering, one of the crew emerged from the bow room with two ice cream cones for Dad and I. Hell yes.
"We would've had hot dogs for you, but the 7-11-style cooker we had took a flight across the room when we hit some weather coming across the Gulf on the way up," the skipper yelled across a stiff wind. We chuckled. I thought fondly of the 15 plates that weighted themselves through the latched cupboard on the Kari Marie, flew across the galley, and shattered when we hit weather on my trip down last summer.
"We wish we were in Southeast halibut fishing. We're not used to this pace up here. But this is the least we can do!"
In the middle of nasty weather and a fast-paced fishery, we get ice cream cones. That's what I'm talking about. I'm glad they're here and not in SE.
Okay, enough for now. A shower, re-stock, and go. Hope everyone is well!
yeehaw
This thing has gone off with a bang more or less. We're running around the clock now and hitting it hard. Had a fresh water line break in the engine room but that's the most serious problem we've got. It will be repaired and we're taking off here in a few.
The weather has calmed down but the last 48 we've seen a bit of everything. In the middle of the night last night it was super...SUPER cold. Felt like it could snow. Fog, mist, wind. Radar. The stove had gone out for awhile and we had to climb into a cold cabin after working on a really cold deck, which sucked. It's back up and running, though - just had to literally beat the carburetor with a wrench!
Otherwise, so far so good. The peak of the run definitely is not here yet. But we're going steady and life is good.
A sweet tidbit - we delivered to the Bellingham-based Debra D a couple days ago out at the Y (a deepwater anchorage in the middle of the Bay). We'd never been introduced to them before, and in the midst of heaving, hissing swells, whining hydraulics, and slamming up against the tender as we were delivering, one of the crew emerged from the bow room with two ice cream cones for Dad and I. Hell yes.
"We would've had hot dogs for you, but the 7-11-style cooker we had took a flight across the room when we hit some weather coming across the Gulf on the way up," the skipper yelled across a stiff wind. We chuckled. I thought fondly of the 15 plates that weighted themselves through the latched cupboard on the Kari Marie, flew across the galley, and shattered when we hit weather on my trip down last summer.
"We wish we were in Southeast halibut fishing. We're not used to this pace up here. But this is the least we can do!"
In the middle of nasty weather and a fast-paced fishery, we get ice cream cones. That's what I'm talking about. I'm glad they're here and not in SE.
Okay, enough for now. A shower, re-stock, and go. Hope everyone is well!
yeehaw
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
pre season #2
Heading out on tonight’s flood for the first fishery. The period begins at 11am tomorrow and it’s about a 6.5 hour opening. Should be good to get out and get the gear wet. I don’t know if we’ll stay out or if we’ll come back to the dock, but this could be the beginning of another season where we’re on board 20 or 25 days straight pushing, pushing, pushing.
For fifty years now my father has been surrounded by other incredible men who have made a living out of this fishery. Alaska Natives, Italians, Croatians, other Norwegians, Finns, and Washingtonians and Oregonians alike – there is a family up here bonded together by the glue of all the serious…shit…for lack of a better term that these guys and their fathers have seen over the years. Strikes so serious guns were being pulled on the scabs who fished anyway, and mafia members were being called up from California to “take care” of those scabs and their boats. (Not a joke. When logistics were realized, i.e. federal marshals were present and there was only one road/airport to get out, they decided against coming.) Weather so serious that sitting in Togiak in a 120mph blow for five days on anchor was just what you had to do before it calmed down enough to fish. Mechanical problems at the most vulnerable times on the Bering Sea. The worst prices for your fish…and the best prices for your fish. Heated disagreements between fellow fishermen and cannery personnel paired with some of the greatest nights in camp reminiscing with the old timers and newcomers alike about a part of the world that is so perfectly rough around the edges. And in the end, when every skipper and crewmember flies up and congregates before the season hits in the bunkhouse, one finds himself amongst fellow men who appreciate one another, appreciate Mother Nature, the forces of the fishery, and are simply out to keep pursuing this ridiculous passion and make a buck or two.
The past couple nights we’ve been eating razor clams, the first salmon of the year, and other good food that everyone has to contribute. The bunkhouse is a dorm-style residence. We are on the second floor of number 93. There is a bank of washers and dryers at the end of the hall with a common bathroom/shower room. On any given night when we’re not fishing you can find crock pots and rice cookers atop the washing machine and explosions of laughter careening off the walls of the hallway. Two or three of the small rooms are occupied by everyone drinking cheap beer, maybe eating a little pickled salmon, giving each other plenty of hell, and celebrating…simplicity…here. Last night Rock Haglund and Mikey and Cole Johnson of the F/V Alaskalou were set to be launched at midnight with the tide and take off for the Egegik fishing district for most of the season. It was naturally a good send off for them with aching bellies from all the laughter by the end of the night.
During the day, projects have been wrapping up and everyone is ready to go to work. “Mug-up” is a coffee and donut break for all cannery crew and beach gang at 10am, 3pm, and 9pm every day, and fishermen undoubtedly partake when not out fishing. So there’s been plenty of “mug-up” attendance and milling around with the guys and gals who will also be putting in ‘round the clock hours here on the beach once the season really hits. It definitely is not all about just fishing; rather, it’s also about the delivery and processing of the product and maintenance of the fleet and equipment which have to be tended to 24/7, on a moment’s notice.
Reidar’s conclusive words for this entry and this point in the season:
“A lot of attention is being paid to the test fisheries farther down the Aleutian Chain near Port Moller right now. Whereas not many fish were showing originally, these stations which range anywhere from 20 miles offshore to 100 miles offshore are now indicating a strong push of fish bound for our river systems here in the Bay. The numbers are shaping up to mean a season that everyone has been hoping for and anticipating.”
“It will be good tonight to get out, anchor up, and see how everything works tomorrow.”
Talk to y’all when possible.
For fifty years now my father has been surrounded by other incredible men who have made a living out of this fishery. Alaska Natives, Italians, Croatians, other Norwegians, Finns, and Washingtonians and Oregonians alike – there is a family up here bonded together by the glue of all the serious…shit…for lack of a better term that these guys and their fathers have seen over the years. Strikes so serious guns were being pulled on the scabs who fished anyway, and mafia members were being called up from California to “take care” of those scabs and their boats. (Not a joke. When logistics were realized, i.e. federal marshals were present and there was only one road/airport to get out, they decided against coming.) Weather so serious that sitting in Togiak in a 120mph blow for five days on anchor was just what you had to do before it calmed down enough to fish. Mechanical problems at the most vulnerable times on the Bering Sea. The worst prices for your fish…and the best prices for your fish. Heated disagreements between fellow fishermen and cannery personnel paired with some of the greatest nights in camp reminiscing with the old timers and newcomers alike about a part of the world that is so perfectly rough around the edges. And in the end, when every skipper and crewmember flies up and congregates before the season hits in the bunkhouse, one finds himself amongst fellow men who appreciate one another, appreciate Mother Nature, the forces of the fishery, and are simply out to keep pursuing this ridiculous passion and make a buck or two.
The past couple nights we’ve been eating razor clams, the first salmon of the year, and other good food that everyone has to contribute. The bunkhouse is a dorm-style residence. We are on the second floor of number 93. There is a bank of washers and dryers at the end of the hall with a common bathroom/shower room. On any given night when we’re not fishing you can find crock pots and rice cookers atop the washing machine and explosions of laughter careening off the walls of the hallway. Two or three of the small rooms are occupied by everyone drinking cheap beer, maybe eating a little pickled salmon, giving each other plenty of hell, and celebrating…simplicity…here. Last night Rock Haglund and Mikey and Cole Johnson of the F/V Alaskalou were set to be launched at midnight with the tide and take off for the Egegik fishing district for most of the season. It was naturally a good send off for them with aching bellies from all the laughter by the end of the night.
During the day, projects have been wrapping up and everyone is ready to go to work. “Mug-up” is a coffee and donut break for all cannery crew and beach gang at 10am, 3pm, and 9pm every day, and fishermen undoubtedly partake when not out fishing. So there’s been plenty of “mug-up” attendance and milling around with the guys and gals who will also be putting in ‘round the clock hours here on the beach once the season really hits. It definitely is not all about just fishing; rather, it’s also about the delivery and processing of the product and maintenance of the fleet and equipment which have to be tended to 24/7, on a moment’s notice.
Reidar’s conclusive words for this entry and this point in the season:
“A lot of attention is being paid to the test fisheries farther down the Aleutian Chain near Port Moller right now. Whereas not many fish were showing originally, these stations which range anywhere from 20 miles offshore to 100 miles offshore are now indicating a strong push of fish bound for our river systems here in the Bay. The numbers are shaping up to mean a season that everyone has been hoping for and anticipating.”
“It will be good tonight to get out, anchor up, and see how everything works tomorrow.”
Talk to y’all when possible.
Monday, June 21, 2010
pre season #1
Greetings from the Bay, everyone. I’m sipping on a stiff cup of coffee brewed here in our small room in the bunkhouse, trying to figure out how to get even a sketchy internet connection so I can copy and paste this text from Word into my blog. This could be interesting.
It has been a good first couple of days. My flights were fairly flawless except for an hour and half delay in Anchorage which wasn’t all that unusual. The Pen Air flights leaving Anchorage for King Salmon, Dutch Harbor, Cold Bay, etc. are always late. Upon arriving King Salmon I grabbed a cab and made the jaunt to Naknek with all of my gear. As soon as we pulled into the AGS camp and I had killed almost all of the mosquitoes which infiltrated the inside of the van when loading, I was home. (It’s VERY buggy up here when there’s no wind.)
Dad is doing exceptional. He is at ease up here. The boat is purring like a kitten. We’ve been eating well. Father’s Day treated him well yesterday – a ton got done on the boat and in our net locker, and I took him to dinner at the only real restaurant in town, the D & D. We took the four wheelers down to dinner and afterward went for a cruise on a dirt road out into the tundra to a high point which looks over the town, river, and Bristol Bay. We then came back and kicked the crap out of Paul and Doug in a fierce game of best out of three cribbage. The night was rounded off by some priceless rowdiness and jabbering in the bunkhouse.
Projects have been as follows:
• Add a flow control valve (needle valve) to the hydraulic anchor winch
• Hang leadline on two fifty-fathom shackles of gear
• Install satellite radio on board
• Load nets on the boat before we launch
• Pass the Coast Guard safety inspection
Consider all of these items checked off the list. We are going to launch on this morning’s tide and will probably go out and have a shakedown cruise. At the beginning of every season there is continuous fishing around the clock before the season really starts – sometimes there are fish but most times there isn’t much to see – however it’s a good opportunity to go figure out what works and doesn’t work on the boat, get the gear in the water, etc. Starting Wednesday at 9:00am the free period ends and we go onto emergency order status. But today we may go try and catch dinner.
Plenty more to come. It’s beautiful up here. Hot and sunny, actually. I hope the weather’s good where you are.
It has been a good first couple of days. My flights were fairly flawless except for an hour and half delay in Anchorage which wasn’t all that unusual. The Pen Air flights leaving Anchorage for King Salmon, Dutch Harbor, Cold Bay, etc. are always late. Upon arriving King Salmon I grabbed a cab and made the jaunt to Naknek with all of my gear. As soon as we pulled into the AGS camp and I had killed almost all of the mosquitoes which infiltrated the inside of the van when loading, I was home. (It’s VERY buggy up here when there’s no wind.)
Dad is doing exceptional. He is at ease up here. The boat is purring like a kitten. We’ve been eating well. Father’s Day treated him well yesterday – a ton got done on the boat and in our net locker, and I took him to dinner at the only real restaurant in town, the D & D. We took the four wheelers down to dinner and afterward went for a cruise on a dirt road out into the tundra to a high point which looks over the town, river, and Bristol Bay. We then came back and kicked the crap out of Paul and Doug in a fierce game of best out of three cribbage. The night was rounded off by some priceless rowdiness and jabbering in the bunkhouse.
Projects have been as follows:
• Add a flow control valve (needle valve) to the hydraulic anchor winch
• Hang leadline on two fifty-fathom shackles of gear
• Install satellite radio on board
• Load nets on the boat before we launch
• Pass the Coast Guard safety inspection
Consider all of these items checked off the list. We are going to launch on this morning’s tide and will probably go out and have a shakedown cruise. At the beginning of every season there is continuous fishing around the clock before the season really starts – sometimes there are fish but most times there isn’t much to see – however it’s a good opportunity to go figure out what works and doesn’t work on the boat, get the gear in the water, etc. Starting Wednesday at 9:00am the free period ends and we go onto emergency order status. But today we may go try and catch dinner.
Plenty more to come. It’s beautiful up here. Hot and sunny, actually. I hope the weather’s good where you are.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
The Bay 101
72 hours until I peace out for the Bay. Not much to write about thus far, but I want to give my followers a bit of Bristol Bay 101, in case you're not familiar with what/where/when/how and all that jazz.
Geographically, Bristol Bay and the Bering Sea are synonymous. Generally, the "Bay" is more used as describing perhaps a distance 50-100 nautical miles seaward from the coast of Southwest Alaska. But the names are used interchangeably. The Bay is north of the Aleutian Chain/Alaska Peninsula and juts itself into the cranny where the coast turns north-northwestward as the arm of the Chain meets mainland Alaska. The Bay is fed by five major river systems: the Naknek, Kvichak, Egegik, Nushagak, and Ugashik. These rivers are fed by countless tributaries which also support the fishery as a whole, and, in the end, are headed by the countless lakes that make pockmarks in the Alaskan tundra. Two major lakes which feed the Naknek and Kvichak systems are Naknek Lake and Lake Iliamna, the latter being the largest freshwater lake in Alaska and the eighth largest in the United States.
There are a couple of things that make Bristol Bay unique in terms of how Mother Nature behaves. Tidal changes range anywhere from eighteen feet to thirty-two feet between high and low water. (Compare this to Puget Sound--maybe a ten foot change at the most.) Current velocities can push six to eight knots in the peak of an ebb or flood. At low water, the Naknek River goes dry except for one "hole" on the south side of the river which serves as an anchorage for gillnetters and tenders. Sandbars also show out in the Bay at low water. If you are tied to the dock or anchored in the wrong spot, you WILL go dry at low water, 32-foot gillnetter and 130-foot crabber/tender alike. Sometimes this is necessary and part of the day; other times...it just isn't. This fishery takes place in anywhere from sixty feet of water out west to three feet of water, right on the beach. It's a fast and furious multi-faceted environment with respect to what a skipper and crew work with/against as they are in the process of harvesting sockeye salmon.
The Alaska Department of Fish and Game took ownership to the management of this fishery in 1960. Since then, we have seen a sustainable, impeccably-regulated, and completely wild stock of king, sockeye, and silver salmon (among other species, these being the major) return to the Bristol Bay drainage year after year. Fisheries biologists monitor the escapement of fish into the river systems for healthy numbers to ensure future runs. Through observations from actual towers placed on all of the rivers, hourly and daily numbers of escaped fish are compiled and then reported. At this point, it is determined whether enough fish have escaped based on a historical curve to allow commercial fishing in the district. If daily escapement is behind the curve by too large a factor, we stand down and continue waiting for healthy numbers. Harvest is also reported by the canneries and tracked. Escapement, harvest, total run, and the makeup and age of fish are all closely recorded for historical purposes, but most importantly to gauge, forecast, and allot future harvests and escapements. Ultimately, this year's newborn fry will return as future adult salmon to be harvested or to spawn. Since regulation by the ADF&G began in 1960, the fishery has only stayed shut down one season for lack of returns. (I need to check facts on this. I can't remember the year.)
Our 32-foot gillnetter, the Odie, goes fishing as soon as the ADF&G announces an opening on the VHF radio or the Bay's AM station, KDLG. The above link is a verbatim copy of what is read over the airwaves. I don't know about you, but hearing these crackling announcements come over the radio gives me goosebumps, especially early on in the season. With large tide fluctuations and going dry at low water, it is often necessary to go out, anchor up, and wait for an announcement if it looks like a possible opening will begin when the river is dry or too shallow to leave.
We fish using a gillnet which is unreeled and set in the water from a giant hydraulic drum or reel in the stern of the boat. When completely set, the net stretches out behind the boat at a length of 150 fathoms. (One fathom = six feet.) It extends down 29 meshes deep, and each mesh is roughly 5 inches across. The net itself, or web, is attached to a leadline on the bottom for weight and a corkline on the top which floats on the surface of the water. When it's time to "pick", or haul the net, Dad and I stand in the stern of the Odie operating hydraulics and picking each fish out of the net simultaneously.
As we're picking, we are placing the fish in one of six holds aboard the Odie, each with at best a 3000-pound capacity. Inside the holds are brailers, or giant bags, which are used as vehicles to contain the fish on our boat and hoist the fish out of the holds when delivering to a tender. Once we're full or the fishing period is over, we'll run and tie up to a tender which lifts the brailers out of our holds and empties our fish into their giant, refrigerated holds. Once at capacity, (some bigger tenders which are king crabbers by fall and winter can hold up to half a million pounds) the tender will go to the cannery and deliver the fish for processing and shipment to the market.
After a fishing period which can last anywhere from four hours to days at a time, Dad and I will anchor up and get some sleep and eat; or, if the tide allows us to get to the cannery and we have time, we'll head in and grab a shower and make a phone call home. Every season is so different in this regard. Last season we spent 21 consecutive days aboard, catching naps and a shower whenever we could. Other seasons we're in the bunkhouse at the cannery, sitting...waiting for those crackling announcements.
Some key facts to leave you with:
Long post, but thank you for attending Bristol Bay 101.
Geographically, Bristol Bay and the Bering Sea are synonymous. Generally, the "Bay" is more used as describing perhaps a distance 50-100 nautical miles seaward from the coast of Southwest Alaska. But the names are used interchangeably. The Bay is north of the Aleutian Chain/Alaska Peninsula and juts itself into the cranny where the coast turns north-northwestward as the arm of the Chain meets mainland Alaska. The Bay is fed by five major river systems: the Naknek, Kvichak, Egegik, Nushagak, and Ugashik. These rivers are fed by countless tributaries which also support the fishery as a whole, and, in the end, are headed by the countless lakes that make pockmarks in the Alaskan tundra. Two major lakes which feed the Naknek and Kvichak systems are Naknek Lake and Lake Iliamna, the latter being the largest freshwater lake in Alaska and the eighth largest in the United States.
There are a couple of things that make Bristol Bay unique in terms of how Mother Nature behaves. Tidal changes range anywhere from eighteen feet to thirty-two feet between high and low water. (Compare this to Puget Sound--maybe a ten foot change at the most.) Current velocities can push six to eight knots in the peak of an ebb or flood. At low water, the Naknek River goes dry except for one "hole" on the south side of the river which serves as an anchorage for gillnetters and tenders. Sandbars also show out in the Bay at low water. If you are tied to the dock or anchored in the wrong spot, you WILL go dry at low water, 32-foot gillnetter and 130-foot crabber/tender alike. Sometimes this is necessary and part of the day; other times...it just isn't. This fishery takes place in anywhere from sixty feet of water out west to three feet of water, right on the beach. It's a fast and furious multi-faceted environment with respect to what a skipper and crew work with/against as they are in the process of harvesting sockeye salmon.
The Alaska Department of Fish and Game took ownership to the management of this fishery in 1960. Since then, we have seen a sustainable, impeccably-regulated, and completely wild stock of king, sockeye, and silver salmon (among other species, these being the major) return to the Bristol Bay drainage year after year. Fisheries biologists monitor the escapement of fish into the river systems for healthy numbers to ensure future runs. Through observations from actual towers placed on all of the rivers, hourly and daily numbers of escaped fish are compiled and then reported. At this point, it is determined whether enough fish have escaped based on a historical curve to allow commercial fishing in the district. If daily escapement is behind the curve by too large a factor, we stand down and continue waiting for healthy numbers. Harvest is also reported by the canneries and tracked. Escapement, harvest, total run, and the makeup and age of fish are all closely recorded for historical purposes, but most importantly to gauge, forecast, and allot future harvests and escapements. Ultimately, this year's newborn fry will return as future adult salmon to be harvested or to spawn. Since regulation by the ADF&G began in 1960, the fishery has only stayed shut down one season for lack of returns. (I need to check facts on this. I can't remember the year.)
Our 32-foot gillnetter, the Odie, goes fishing as soon as the ADF&G announces an opening on the VHF radio or the Bay's AM station, KDLG. The above link is a verbatim copy of what is read over the airwaves. I don't know about you, but hearing these crackling announcements come over the radio gives me goosebumps, especially early on in the season. With large tide fluctuations and going dry at low water, it is often necessary to go out, anchor up, and wait for an announcement if it looks like a possible opening will begin when the river is dry or too shallow to leave.
We fish using a gillnet which is unreeled and set in the water from a giant hydraulic drum or reel in the stern of the boat. When completely set, the net stretches out behind the boat at a length of 150 fathoms. (One fathom = six feet.) It extends down 29 meshes deep, and each mesh is roughly 5 inches across. The net itself, or web, is attached to a leadline on the bottom for weight and a corkline on the top which floats on the surface of the water. When it's time to "pick", or haul the net, Dad and I stand in the stern of the Odie operating hydraulics and picking each fish out of the net simultaneously.
As we're picking, we are placing the fish in one of six holds aboard the Odie, each with at best a 3000-pound capacity. Inside the holds are brailers, or giant bags, which are used as vehicles to contain the fish on our boat and hoist the fish out of the holds when delivering to a tender. Once we're full or the fishing period is over, we'll run and tie up to a tender which lifts the brailers out of our holds and empties our fish into their giant, refrigerated holds. Once at capacity, (some bigger tenders which are king crabbers by fall and winter can hold up to half a million pounds) the tender will go to the cannery and deliver the fish for processing and shipment to the market.
After a fishing period which can last anywhere from four hours to days at a time, Dad and I will anchor up and get some sleep and eat; or, if the tide allows us to get to the cannery and we have time, we'll head in and grab a shower and make a phone call home. Every season is so different in this regard. Last season we spent 21 consecutive days aboard, catching naps and a shower whenever we could. Other seasons we're in the bunkhouse at the cannery, sitting...waiting for those crackling announcements.
Some key facts to leave you with:
- We are drift gillnet fishermen, not set gillnet fishermen
- We fish the Naknek/Kvichak section of Bristol Bay and rarely travel to other districts, such as the Nushagak or Egegik districts.
- The company we fish for/the cannery we live at when not aboard is Alaska General Seafoods.
- The cannery processes canned salmon and frozen fillets for shipment to the world market
- The total sockeye run prediction for 2010 is 39.77 million fish. The projected harvest is 31.76 million, with an escapement of a little over 8 million fish.
Long post, but thank you for attending Bristol Bay 101.
Monday, June 7, 2010
housekeeping
Happy Monday.
Going for quality over quantity on this blog, but here are a couple of things to run by you:
Another great Alaska fisheries blog run by Wesley Loy of the Anchorage Daily news: Deckboss.
A link to the most current Naknek/Kvichak district openings and updates: Alaska Department of Fish and Game. Dad and I fish both Bristol Bay Eastside and Westside...usually we won't go to the Westside until after the fourth of July, depending on escapement up the Kvichak.
Dad arrived safely but quite tired to Naknek. A ton of delays/mechanical issues with Horizon. And sketchy weather on the puddle jumper between Anchorage and King Salmon - the airplane started icing up and vibrating violently. When the de-icing mechanisms starting working in the airplane's favor, chunks of ice would come off the wings, hit the props, and peg the fuselage. As soon as they made it over the Alaska Range, they were able to drop altitude and escape the drama.
"It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up," said Dad, as his eyes darted across to Lake Iliamna, the closest body of water in sight...
New exhaust system complete on our fishing vessel Odie, just some extra insulation to add near the turbos. This should diminish the carbon monoxide asphyxiation factor in the cabin exponentially! Fresh batteries for the four wheeler and old junker truck that keeps starting every single year. All is well so far and starting off calmly.
As for me, I'm chomping at the bit. Stay tuned. This will become hopefully more insightful and exciting as time passes, but this post is aptly-named "housekeeping".
Going for quality over quantity on this blog, but here are a couple of things to run by you:
Another great Alaska fisheries blog run by Wesley Loy of the Anchorage Daily news: Deckboss.
A link to the most current Naknek/Kvichak district openings and updates: Alaska Department of Fish and Game. Dad and I fish both Bristol Bay Eastside and Westside...usually we won't go to the Westside until after the fourth of July, depending on escapement up the Kvichak.
Dad arrived safely but quite tired to Naknek. A ton of delays/mechanical issues with Horizon. And sketchy weather on the puddle jumper between Anchorage and King Salmon - the airplane started icing up and vibrating violently. When the de-icing mechanisms starting working in the airplane's favor, chunks of ice would come off the wings, hit the props, and peg the fuselage. As soon as they made it over the Alaska Range, they were able to drop altitude and escape the drama.
"It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up," said Dad, as his eyes darted across to Lake Iliamna, the closest body of water in sight...
New exhaust system complete on our fishing vessel Odie, just some extra insulation to add near the turbos. This should diminish the carbon monoxide asphyxiation factor in the cabin exponentially! Fresh batteries for the four wheeler and old junker truck that keeps starting every single year. All is well so far and starting off calmly.
As for me, I'm chomping at the bit. Stay tuned. This will become hopefully more insightful and exciting as time passes, but this post is aptly-named "housekeeping".
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