31 jul 2011 bloomin' anchorage

Our tradition of biking the Anchorage Garden Tour on the last Sunday of July wasn't deterred this year by a little rain. Pam and Roger joined us for a third tour, and Rose was properly baptized by Mother Nature on her inaugural tour. The quality of the gardens was especially high this year, and the biking was as rewarding as ever. Five of the gardens were somewhat clustered near us on the south side of town. One outlier in Spenard had us hustling north to catch the last -- and best? -- before the close at 5:00. Instinct and Rose's prior residence in Spenard helped us to navigate several neighborhoods so we could avoid the larger roads most of the way. We ended the tour with a picnic in Spenard on a dry patch of grass under a spruce tree.

23 oct 10 white rim intro

After a night of wind gusts that ripped the tent stakes out of the ground and scattered fine red dust through my tent, the rain began at daybreak and I wondered what I had signed up for. After a record-setting rainy, cloudy summer in Alaska, had I really flown to Utah for a guided mountain bike trip in a fall monsoon? I knew we would have to leave the camp site that day and feared we'd pedal 20 miles in winds that would blow us off the White Rim into the Colorado River canyon below.

Soon the rain ended, though, and the guides Brin and Ben cooked a hot breakfast. After a mug of strong coffee and hot french toast, the day looked a little better. The hail storm that followed was brief, and the clouds started parting to blue sky. By noon we were back on the trail for our 2nd day on the White Rim in the Island in the Sky region of Canyonlands National Park.

26 aug 10 rainy days, mondays, bad haircuts

Zen lesson for the day: Don't let 'em get you down

and a fashion tip: if a bandana makes you feel better, wear it

11 aug 10 soggy zen

I feel like I haven't done anything but whine about the weather since we returned from a soggy week in Prince William Sound to the soggy summer in Anchorage on Saturday evening.* So I won't dwell on the dominant weather that we had in the Sound last week.

I'm trying to focus on how this is the first summer in a long time that I actually sit around reading. Earlier this summer I complained to a friend back East about the flurry of summer reading lists that pop up everywhere in June and how Alaskans were too busy making the most of every minute of sunshine to sit around reading. Winter is for reading. My remarks were possibly a bit insensitive because she was laid up with a broken ankle. I hoped that she was enjoying the opportunity to read and relax during the warm days. I wanted to know what she was reading for my own winter book list.

Then came our time in Prince William Sound - a week last month and a week this month. The weather was less than inspiring for exploring by either boat or foot most of the time, but perfect for snuggling in with a hot beverage and a good novel. This approach to a vacation, unusual for me, certainly leads to a relaxed state.

Paul commented on how the week had a Zen quality -- from the quiet mornings of reading (including a book on Zen) and doing Sudoku and crosswords to the chance to mindfully carry out chores and meal preparations. Even the landscape looked like an Asian painting with mists defining successive ridges and mountains.

Once again it seems that the trick is to bring that calm, relaxed state of the retreat back to the everyday world.

* And it's official - the National Weather Service says that we're setting records for cool, wet, and cloudy. And it has rained every day since this article was in the paper.

** I've added some more photos with captions to the gallery.

july 2010 blossom

In September 1998 Paul and I sailed together for the first time; it was the first time Paul had ever sailed. We went to Maine to visit my brother Ron. Our plan had been to rent kayaks and paddle part of the Maine Island Trail. We had rented a shelter on Isle of Haute in Acadia National Park for a few nights. But because Ron hadn't kayaked before, no one would rent to us. Ron, who is a boat designer, was working for a boat builder at the time, and his boss offered to loan us an open wooden sail boat that he had built. We'd still be camping every night, and if the wind didn't blow, the boat was fitted with oars. His daughter had named the little blue boat Blossom.

Ron and Paul did row quite a bit but we also sailed. Somehow Ron anchored Blossom off-shore each night and got us and the camping gear to the islands without a dinghy. The weather was mostly good, we ate fresh mussels, hiked on Isle of Haute, and had a great time. Not only did Paul get the sailing bug that week, but we bought two folding kayaks and found out that the National Park Service wanted to send him to Alaska to work for Katmai and Lake Clark National Parks. Our lives were changed forever in the span of a few days.

Our Jeanneau Tonic 23 is much more modern in design than that little wooden gaffrig sailboat, but those happy memories and maybe the blue bottom hull of our boat have caused us to call our sailboat Blossom almost from the time we bought her. We haven't told anyone, but that's the name we've been leaning toward. And we've finally toasted her with Paul's homemade mead (the last bottle from our wedding 16 years ago!) and made it official -- here's Blossom II.
Our Blossom with all the wet gear hanging out on the first sunny day

July was the first real sailing and gunkholing month on our Blossom. Over a long Fourth of July weekend, we anchored in Surprise Cove, hiked on a state park trail, and finally saw Blackstone Bay. We've kayaked in Prince William Sound many times and have never seen whales. We probably saw a dozen humpbacks in Cochrane and Blackstone Bays that weekend. We scooted back into Whittier for a night in the harbor when a small craft advisory was forecast for our last day. Sleeping at dock and maneuvering about the harbor the next day in sustained 14 mph winds with 40 mph gusts were excellent boat handling practice!

On the 17th we drove to Whittier with food, libations, books, and other supplies for a week's sojourn. We spent another night at Surprise Cove and then two rainy nights tucked back into Three Finger Cove. Two harbor seals had greeted us there. On the first night, I was awake in the middle of the night and heard an odd bubbling sound water off the bow. I jumped out, grabbed the binoculars, and peered out into the dark. I could just see some tremendous splashing near the shore. In the morning and all the next day, the seals were gone. I feared that orcas had attacked them. When we left the cove the next day, dozens of seals were hauled out on rocks near the cove entrance. I hope that our seals were just visiting with the family.

We left Three Finger Cove and spent the afternoon motoring up out of Cochrane Bay and down Culross Passage to within a couple of miles of where we had started that day. The sun came out for the first time in four days while we were anchored in Long Bay. We hung all the wet towels and rain gear on the boom, back stay, and life lines. Paul hoisted a sun shower from the main halyard and we bathed in the cockpit.

Clean and dry, we sailed out of Long Bay and then down Culross Passage to Picturesque Cove for a night. The next day we motored through the gap between Culross Island and Applegate Island and then up the east side of Culross. We had hoped for a little wind from the greater Sound for sailing that day, but the north breeze wasn't enough to be worth tacking back and forth up wind. We tried to visit Lake Bay that day but the commercial fishermen had it blocked off to catch pinks returning to the hatchery. So we returned to the north end of Culross Passage and anchored in Carrs Cove.


The wind and sun returned on Friday and we sailed out of Culross Passage and north into Port Wells. For an hour we just enjoyed the east wind on a broad reach toward the glaciers. Late in the afternoon we anchored in Ziegler Cove in the state marine park of that name. The swells in the cove rocked us to sleep after we explored the long gravel beach and boggy uplands separating the cove from Port Wells. On Saturday, those same east winds pushed us back to Whittier. With the whisker pole holding the jib out, we hit our fastest speed yet, under sail or motor, of 7 knots.

To see more photos of our Prince William Sound trips, click Play or the photo itself:

fall 09 highlight #2 moored at thumb cove

September was our first month with a sailboat. Labor Day weekend was warm and sunny, perfect for swabbing decks, rigging sails, and getting to know the boat. We even sailed a little in Resurrection Bay that first weekend.

The weekend after Labor Day, however, was the first taste of why we bought the boat. Harbor life has its conveniences and entertainments, but cruising from bay to bay is what we want to do. That weekend, we got to one bay for one night.

The weather was typical Alaska coastal fall - rainy and cool. At night it was pitch black. When we rowed to shore to walk Bhikkhu around 10:00 pm, we wouldn't have been able to see the boat if we hadn't left a light on in the cabin (the anchor light wasn't working). In the morning we woke to a thick fog and heavy rain. Not ideal conditions but we didn't care. We were moored in Thumb Cove in our very own sailboat.

we all sleep well on the sailboat

13 sep 09 thumb cove, different boat

We went to Thumb Cove for the second time this summer. Instead of paddling kayaks out or getting a water taxi, we motored our sailboat south from Seward. Saturday was rainy and still, so no sailing. We putzed along at 6 knots, one of the few boats out in the post-Labor Day era. We tied up to a buoy half-way down the cove. Our 24 hours in the cove included several walks along the beach, a long night of sleep, and a relaxing morning reading and talking sailboats while sipping buckets of strong coffee.

The fog lifted and the rain finally broke around noon on Sunday. A light southerly breeze picked up and we cast off from the buoy. We sailed most of the way back to Seward, until the wind lessened near the head of the bay. If we hadn't needed to pull the boat out of the water and drive back to Anchorage, we would have pushed that little breeze as far as we could. Much of the allure of sailing is taking things slower.

23 aug 09 rabbit lakes

Bhikkhu carrier = 1 old external frame pack

+ 1 12-pack beer box

+ 1 towel for cushion

+ 1 little dog who loves a ride

This Sunday was a little drizzly but I really wanted to go for a hike. I suggested Rabbit Lakes trail on the edge of town. It's a little over 4 miles to the lake, mostly above treeline, and we've only hiked it once, several years ago now. The first few miles are steadily up hill and the last bit is fairly level, slightly rolling. It seemed like a good hike with Bhikkhu if he got a ride up the steepest parts.

Thus was born the Bhikkhu Carrier. Paul quickly converted an old external frame pack by stuffing a 12-pack beer box into the lower half and I added a towel for cushion. The towel would also serve a dual purpose of drying B off if the rain picked up. The top flap on the pack could be loosely fastened to keep the rain off his back. Paul could stash snacks and water in the outer pockets.

Bhikkhu hiked up the first mile or so with us and then Paul carried him for a couple of miles. The higher we got, the wetter and windier it became. A friend of mine ran past us down hill, trying to get warm. Berry pickers on the slopes had their hoods up and seemed like they were kneeling on the ground as much to stay out of the wind as to find the berries.

When we crested out past the 3 mile mark, Paul observed that the weather was much the same as the last time we'd hiked this trail. That time we had returned to the car soaked. We agreed that continuing on head down into the wind and rain didn't sound like much fun. The lake was just out of view but the black clouds gathering over it were plain. We pulled Bhikkhu out of the pack and the three of us hiked back down the trail to the dry car.