Farming, Warming, & Charming

I've always been a fan of Dr. Seuss. He has a knack for grouping rhyming words that don't necessarily "go together". Writing this blog on my adventurous trip to Alaska, I have been able to relay many stories of wonderful memories of the trip. As I finish up the last few stories, I find myself with a hodge podge of topics that do not necessarily relate to one another. In my previous blog, I told about my oyster "initiation".
 Curious by nature, I wanted to learn more about the agribusiness of oyster farming.

Farming

It was on a beautiful sunshiny day, we toured the farm portion of Kahli Cove Oysters. The production part consists of a floating raft with a small cabin and equipment that cleans, tumbles, and sorts the oysters. There are grow out rafts that spread out on either side the main work raft.

The oysters hang above the ocean floor in suspension baskets in one of the most clean and non polluted waters of the world. Each raft can hold up to 30,000 marketable oysters. Several times a year, the oysters are removed from the chilly waters, washed, tumbled, and sized, placing like oysters together.

Tumbling removes the new growth and helps grow a deep cut for a fat, firm oyster. Alastair, from Great Britain was there on his second work away position at Kahli Cove. He gave us the grand tour of the oyster farm. He pulled out of one basket a huge oyster, probably 6 inches in length. I think he laughed and said this was the farm mascot, about 13 years old, and obviously not edible at this point.  He tipped the oyster back to my lips and a photo of him "feeding" me the oyster was snapped in fun.

Warming

Deciding what to pack for any trip can be a process. I was told to bring layers as the weather can fluctuate. " Don't over pack" was stressed more than a few times. There were plenty of warm coats and rain gear at the lodge, so not to worry about taking up luggage space for those items.
As I opened my suitcase, my son said he was impressed at my job packing light.
I had worn my X-tra Tuff waterproof deck shoes and had purchased three pairs of socks with wicking, thinking they would be keep my feet dry, and thus, warm. I  was wrong. I soon realized that even propping my feet on the toolbox on the boat bottom did not help much. It helped a little bit, but I could not get the chill out of my feet. On the day we were to pick up Katie from the airport, plans were made to make some strategic stops in town. I immediately put in my wish to stop at the sporting goods store to buy a warmer pair of socks.

 A trip to town in Alaska is very different from our trip to town. These happen out of emergency or necessity when you live on the water. The first leg of the trip is by water, traveling through the islands to Naukati Bay. It is here where we load up the Tahoe parked there and drive on to Craig. Our first stop before Craig though, was the "all in one store" in Naukati where mail could be picked up or supplies could be purchased at an inflated cost.  I would not be exaggerating if I said you might imagine the music from the movie Deliverance playing in the background. One step inside the door made me very thankful I was with my son Lee and Dave. We drove on towards Craig and took the gravel roads for a scenic tour in hopes we might catch a glimpse of a bear. The bear normally can be seen along the shores, but since I was there during spawning season, they were all busy upstream getting their fill of salmon. Unfortunately, we did not get to see one bear on my trip, which is my goal on my next visit to Alaska. As we hopped in the Tahoe, Porky, (Dave) leaned forward and explained a car game for the trip. We were to guess the number of deer along the way. Being from Indiana and knowing I was in the wilderness, I made a guess at what I thought might be considered high. I said 12. The truck erupted in laughter as Lee and Porky made much higher guesses. I believe the final count was 38 deer we spotted. I was amazed over and over at how the deer would stand right at the edge of the road, often in groups of two or three, and just stare as we drove past them.

When we finally made it to Craig, the largest town, (population approx. 1,230) on Prince of Wales Island. We headed to The Moose for lunch. I sat up at the bar between Lee and Porky. A local retired logger engaged us in stories throughout our lunch. As we made the various stops, I enjoyed people watching. No one seemed to be in a hurry here. We stopped in at the shop I had spied on Day One. The shop's name reflected the contents. Strictly Local. Everything inside was handmade or a piece of art commissioned to the store. I browsed spectacular photographs of wildlife and scenery. There were hand made soaps, lotions, jewelry, knitted and crocheted scarves coloring the shelves. I spied and fell in love with a painting of silver salmon. I had decided to allow myself one splurge item as a keepsake and this was to be it! The store was charming and heart warming all in one. We then moved on to the sporting good store where Lee bought me a pair of wool socks. Things are so expensive here I would only buy one pair. They were carefully laid out in front of the wood stove each evening and worn each day. I have appreciated them on a cold Indiana winter day often too.

Charming

Some people are just born with what I call, "natural charm."
The definition of charming includes the synonyms polite, friendly, and likeable.
On this particular day, I happened to be in the company of two of those types of people.
My son Lee has always been a charmer. I showed up once  to parent teacher conferences where his grade card looked less than respectable and a teacher told me not to be too hard on him, he was such a polite young man.
I was introduced to Porky on my first day on the water in Alaska. His real name is Dave, but everyone calls him Porky. He is from Australia and he has gift for storytelling. He has a natural smile and a gleam in his eye that draws a person in. The accent lends to part of his charm.
As I compared these two, I kept thinking that these two alone together could be trouble.
And I was right.

After our lunch and stops at various businesses, we made our way back through Craig. I was a bit lost in thought and gazing out at the town, observing the differences of the homes and not really listening to the chatter of the two guys.
And then I heard my name.
"You have to ring the bell, Teena!"
As this was said urgently and repeatedly, I took it to mean it was a tradition. They seemed really excited about ringing the bell and as this was to be my "out on a limb" trip, I got caught up in the challenge before clearly thinking it through.
I glanced out the window to my left as we pulled up beside a wooden tower with a large dinner bell and rope.
"Get out and ring the bell, Teena!"
 I jumped out and caught a glimpse of a huge grin on Porky's face as he lifted his camera. I glanced over and he calmly said he was going to capture this on camera.
I ran down the slope as they were encouraging me to hurry.
I rang the bell giving it my all! I rang it several times!
And then I heard them shout, "get in the truck!"
Their shouts of encouragement turned to shouts that sounded more of a manic panic.
It then occurred to me I had rang the fire bell or emergency town bell. The boys were hysterically laughing and we made our get away as townspeople were making their way down the hill.
Of course, my next visit to the Kahli Cove, I endured some good natured laughter and teasing as Porky had generously shared his video with the inhabitants of "the village."

Farming, Warming, Charming

I think this wraps up my Alaska adventure story.
If you haven't ever stepped out of your comfort zone or experienced the wilderness as I was able to, you should. It's a whole lot of fun.

And to quote Dr. Seuss...
"If you never did, you should
These things are fun, and fun is good!"

It Takes A Village

Everyone has heard the phrase, "It takes a village". We immediately think of how important it is to help one another and how each and every person impacts another's life. I would be remiss to leave out of my collection of stories this one about "The Village."
I had heard stories about Jerry and the oyster farm. I had learned about the fiesty Jo.
 I was eager to meet them to put a face with the names I had heard.
 Once again, as with anything Alaskan, the actual exceeded the predetermined image I had in my head.

My first visit to Kahli Cove Oyster Farm aka "The Village" was before my daughter, Katie's arrival to Alaska. My son, Lee had picked me up from the airport in Klawock earlier that day. We were on our way to unload my baggage, our groceries, and get settled in at the float lodge when we decided to make a pit stop. Lee told me everyone had been eager to meet me and he would be in trouble if we didn't stop by real quick.
 There is no such thing as a real quick visit to the village.
It is the picture of the phrase, "chill out."
I learned during my time visiting, that living off the land is taken seriously and work ethics are top notched as a result of that dependency.
 Leisure time is savored and enjoyed in a manner that those in the lower 48 states have lost total track of today. There was no television, radio, or cellphones to distract us. There were no traffic jams or waiting in lines to irritate. Without restaurants or shopping malls on every corner, a person must resort to their entertainment being conversation.
How primitively wonderful!

As we rounded the bend to Kahli Cove, there before me lay a colorful mirage of cabins afloat on rafts made of huge logs. Some were lashed together and my son pointed out one lone green building that was next to the shore. This had been his cabin when he first came to Alaska to work for Jerry. As we pulled up our boat next to the dock, we were greeted by six men, one woman, and a dog. They all looked happy to see us as visitor's are not a common affair. Heck, seeing any people in this remote collection of islands in SE Alaska, is not a common affair!

As colorful as the buildings were, I soon found out the those residing here were just as colorful. I mean this in the most affectionate and complimentary way. Jerry is a native Hoosier who migrated to Alaska and established along with his brother and sister in law an oyster farm.
Nestled near the Prince of Wales Island, commonly referred to as POW, he told Lee that those who love it here become Prisoners of Wales.
 I can believe it.

Admittedly, there was a mixture of delight and a bit of fear in meeting Jerry.
I came bearing gifts. I had it on good authority that Jerry loved his cigars. When you first meet him, you notice right away that he wears a miner's flashlight on the top of his hat. I can still hear his rustic laughter and excited voice rambling on in response to carefully instigated topics of conversation that  involve politics or any article of clothing without a tag that read "made in the USA."
 This is a man's man, who I have been told walks out of his cabin every morning, pounds on his chest and lifts his arms heavenward and proclaims his thanks for living in such a wonderful place.
I wonder if he realized the cigars were my little thank you for the influence he has bestowed on my son.

Joanna, or "Jo", came to Kahli Cove on the work away project. Work away is basically an opportunity to work for room and board in various places all over the world for short terms. She returned a few months after her work away term ended to marry Jerry. The ceremony was held on White Cliff Island at a simply picturesque point.
She is from Australia, and right off her lovely accent and infectious smile captivates you.
 She mentioned more than once how happy she was to have me there as she misses female companionship. Despite the rustic surroundings, she is able to pull off an aura of feminine flair. She shared Aussie wine and we shared a bottle of Indiana wine with her.
 She makes a mean venison stew as well.
I smile every time I read a message from her now, as she closes with "ciao, ciao!"

Jo's younger brother, Dave , three young men on a work away were also there along with a neighboring oyster farmer.
And Brick.
 Brick is a Karelian Bear dog who melted my heart and on my last visit I snuck him smoked salmon and a rawhide chew.

 A tour of the village presented the main cabin that hosts a great greenhouse-like porch. Inside this porch is a big harvest table where we enjoyed a couple of great meals and conversation. Behind the main cabin is a small shack that is the outhouse. No electricity, meaning no light or heat. A bucket of water seemed self explanatory to make the flush work.

After our venison stew and homemade bread supper, it was decided to move the green cabin.
With expert maneuvering, everyone jumped in different boats and the cabin was moved away from land and apart from the floats.
There was a reason for the move. It had mice.
Traps were set and there was no means of escape for the rodents. Ridding the cabin of the unwanted guests came with a price; the only way to the cabin now was by boat. A couple of days later the report was in and the number of deceased mice was in the double digits. I shuddered at this report when comparing the cabin size to this toll.

At the close of my first visit to the Village, hugs were exchanged with these new friends, who I felt at home with only after an hour with them. Promises were made to return this week and as we discussed the probability of a cook out the dreaded question was asked. "Do you like oysters?"
I've never been a good liar, so with regret, I answered. " I've never actually tried them before. "
Exclamations of disbelief were proclaimed and before I knew what was happening, some walked to the edge of the float, hauled up a basket of oysters, had one cracked open and wide eyed, I found myself staring at an oyster before my face.

Now, I'm not sure peer pressure would be a good description of what happened next, and an onlooker might wrongly think it appeared bullying. Neither is true of course, but as my eyes spanned the group now closed around me in a circle, I glanced up at my son for a word of advice. My mind was racing with thoughts: what do I do? I don't want to hurt their feelings and decline. I don't want to gag. Or worse, I most certainly don't want to puke!
I saw a splash of sauce hit the gray slimy delicacy. Delicacy?
Seeking my son again for guidance, he calmly said, "bite it twice and swallow. "
Alrighty then.
So, I did it.  Someone tipped the shell and I followed the instructions to a tee. Chomp, chomp, gulp.
Cheers went up on the deck! Brick barked in his approval and Lee smiled.

Other visits to Kahli Cove were less stressful for me. We had a great steak grill out one afternoon. Once again it felt like family as we sat around the table and talked and teased one another. We had a few private jokes going by now: walking the long line challenges, the ringing of the bell, and the shooting up of a hat and broken television.

When I think back at my visits here, I see that these people understand how the world should be. They work together and live together. Both. There is no escaping their closeness. Closeness of proximity and closeness as friends.
 It takes a village. There is a village.