To Juneau Safe and Sound

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The hull, if leaking, is appearantly not leaking badly. Mom tried to convince me to put on Dad's old, leaky wet suit and dive down four feet to take a look. The thought of sinking into cold, dirty water (think old sewage) where dark and scary things lurked were not appealing. Later I heard Dad trying to convince Mom to do it. She said yes, but I think only to appear brave.

The harbor master put us North facing in a rickety stall on the end of the dock. A break water of rocks and logs keeps out waves and the awful whine of float planes taking off. In the evening, gulls line the edge like white buoys, screeching and blinking their yellow eyes in the fading light.

A young guy came and worked on the engine for most of the day, going in and out of the foxhole and up and down the dock to retrieve tools. He reminded me of a Hawaiian surfer, muscular, tatood, and tan with a laid-back personality. Other than Melissa, this was the first person my age I had seen in about a month. Commercial fishing in Alaska is made up of older folks for sure.

I met Melissa for lunch downtown. I somehow wound my way to the Jade Shop through the masses of tourists making their way along the Juneau streets like lost cows. I finally got tired of their plodding natures and walked in the street. A woman passing by, obviously a local, laughed and said "Staying out here where it's safe huh?"

Locals can always be defined by their dress. Tourists always have a starchy, clean look to them--as if they bought all new clothes for their trip and just pulled the tags off that day. In Southeast we trod about in XTRA Tufs, Carharts or old jeans, and hoodies with a some kind of worn looking shell to keep off the rain. Tourists also smell really good; no one in Southeast would ever wear cologne or perfume unless they were getting married. Even then that would be a stretch. And white? Who wears white clothing? Again, save it for a wedding.

Melissa and I have been friend for years. Met during college, but in the summer when she came up for work in Juneau. I lived with her for a few months when I first moved to Fairbanks and before her husband came back from Iraq. We had been through a lot together. Bad break-ups, moves, school frustrations, friend problems, etc. We had seen it all. We dumped on each other in our particular fashion, over lunch.

Afterwards she went back to work and I returned to the harbor for a nap in the bunk. Mom left for Costco, and Dad met her there a few hours later. I went out for a walk as the sun was setting and tried to take some shots without looking like a tourist. Back in Sitka a man on a bike had approached me, thinking I was a tourist I guess, and started telling me all about salmon spawning and so forth. When he asked me where I was from he seemed a little taken back. When he found out that I probably knew more about salmon than he did, he shook my hand (I resisted the urge to wipe it on my pants) and finally left. I breathed a sigh of relief, for some reason I am a magnet for creepy older men. 35 and up seem to be the norm.

Still debating on when to go. I want to stay and fish, and leaving Mom, Dad, and the boat is always sad, but I need to get on with my own plans.

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Photos

Smelling the Fireweed
Fireweed are my favorite flowers.

Glacier
Some hanging glacier who knows where...

Fish Plant
Ok, so this photo is from Petersburg, but it's still a Southeast image...and Petersburg is only 120 miles away...