Entries about mist

I’m trapped in the ether of Southeast Alaska. In this region of Alaska, the simple act of breathing is a pleasure. The air is coldest at the point of entry- my nose- and warms only slightly as it flows down my windpipe into my lungs. At the entrance to my lungs, the cool air spreads evenly into my lung tissue. It feels as though someone just walked into a warm and cozy house after spending several hours out in the winter cold. It smells fresh. It tastes pure. It blows my endorphins wide open. With every breath, I feel alert, happy, and somehow, more alive.

When I say I am “trapped” here, I mean to say that I am once again working on a ship with few options for escape. To those of you who might have worked on a vessel before, you will understand what I mean. Even if I wanted to gain my freedom, there are only two choices: I can jump off the boat and swim to shore, or I could get off at the next port later on in the week. I think I’ll stay.

Life on a ship is not so bad actually. The work is good, the people are fun, and the seascapes are breathtakingly beautiful.

In fact, I think Alaska is almost impossibly beautiful. I will never understand the physics behind the mist and fog that forms and flows around the islands, mountains, and rain forest. I don’t think I want to. Physics aside, the results are inspiring.

If the landscape wasn’t mind blowing enough, then there are the giant animals that wander though these Alaskan scenes. During my first week, I had close encounters with Stellar Sea Lions near the Inian Islands. I watched a pod of Orca catching Salmon in Peril Straight. Near False Bay, I saw Humpback Whales working together to corral herring in a giant bubble net. As one, the whales swam through the net feasting on the herring in an orgy of mass eating.


It was very exciting. I was leaning on a portside rail, looking out at a school of herring dancing on the water. A quivering ball of herring makes the surface of the water bounce, as though a heavy rain is falling on the ocean. I heard the whales before I saw them. I looked down and with a rush of frothy white water, the pod broke through the surface right next to the ship. I was spellbound.

On land, I watched grizzly bears foraging along the shore. They were prying mussels off the rocks for their lunch. I spied a wolf pack through binoculars loitering on a beach. The pack had a young pup, and it embraced its playful nature. While the mother and other members relaxed on the beach, the pup ran around between them biting them on the muzzle. In one scene, I saw a murder of ravens, a wolf, and a grizzly bear hanging out near a creek.

The Reid glacier in Glacier Bay National Park is one of the prettiest I have seen. A giant ice cave has formed on its face this year. I love looking at the texture and coloring of this glacier. It has a marbled look, mostly brown and dirty white, but it glows a very subtle glacier blue.

This past week was perhaps the best welcome back present I could have had. Alaska continues to be very good to me. I feel like my words and pictures can’t really do this place justice. I could use thousands of adjectives from the English language, but none of them comes close to describing what it is like to stand in place and look off to some distant fog covered island. It is one of the world’s truly remarkable locations.

I’m satisfied with my captivity. If I’m going to be in prison, it may as well be by choice in the wilds of southeast Alaska.

Wednesday February 1st - A Photo Shoot Every 100 Miles, Friends

While traveling south along Minnesota state highway 23, I noticed my odometer was nearing 210,000 miles. An idea popped into my head to make this trip more interesting, and I decided to stop every 100 hundred miles and make a photo shoot of whatever was there. I became excited about the idea, and when the odometer turned, I slowed down and found a safe place to park on side of the road. I stepped out, and began looking at my options. As it was, it was a very gray, overcast day in Minnesota, and a feeling of contented quiet held over the entire state from the shores of Lake Superior in Duluth, all the way down to the suburbs of St. Paul.

I stepped into a low lying wetland area, looking at the puffy tubes of cattails, and found my shot.

Mileage 210,000: "Cattails" Somewhere in Pine Co. Mn

Satisfied, I climbed back into the van and headed south another hundred miles, which happened to be a small roadside park near Lake Josephine in the northern suburbs of St. Paul. I became enamored with the oak trees that resided on a small hill, and found my new lens to be just the thing to take pictures of the dried oak leaves still on the trees.

Mileage 210,100: "Oak Leaves" Near Lake Josephine, MN

I found my friends in St. Paul. We spent the day hanging out, enjoying good conversation, with a field trip to the Como Park Greenhouse, and Como Lake. The greenhouse was so beautiful, full of flowery scents and reminders of the warm greens of summer. After our lark, we returned to the house. In the evening, I made homemade pizza, and we spent a wonderful evening talking, eating delicious (if I do say so myself) pizza, and drinking wine. It was such a good day.

Flower Detail

Pizza Party
I love making pizza. I also love making pizza for other people when i'm travelling. If you like pizza, and meeting roving vagabonds, drop me an invite, and I might bake you a pizza!

Thursday February 2nd - Oh, Brother! Freezing Fog and a Sleepy Driver

I woke up very early, slipping out of the cool, dark house well before sun up. It was dark, and very foggy out, a moist heavy feeling to the air. I started up the van, and rolled out heading westerly to the small town of St. Michael, MN. My brother Karl resides there, and as I have not spent much time with him lately, I was excited to take in his company.


After getting some tea from the local coffee shop, we drove out to a small park on Lake Beebe. Soon we were wandering around in the airy mists, of an abandoned park. Karl and I are quite close, and it wasn’t long before we were lost in compelling conversation. We discussed the park, girls, the beauty of mist, the good air we were breathing, brain exercises, the stupidity of television, three year plans, the beauty of the trees we were walking around, cutting a moat around an ice fisherman’s shack as a practical joke, the sick system that is American politics, good sitting spots, how hungry we were (which we soon remedied), Artificial Intelligence, and other nonsense.



We went back to his house so I could get my long board skateboard, and after awhile, I said, “Seeya later, Bub.” And with that, I drove away. I hadn’t driven very far, when I realized that I was very sleepy, and I really had to use the bathroom. As I had planned to drive well into North Dakota, my sleepiness was going to be a problem. I resorted to my old tricks to stay awake: I slapped myself in the face (this doesn’t work), I rolled down the windows, I yelled at myself, and drove on.

Mileage 210,200: "Ice Droplet" Riverside Park, St. Michael, MN

I finished one book on my mp3 player (Al Capone Does My Shirts) and started another (The Atlantic: by Simon Winchester). I love listening to books while I drive.

The fog came back just before I crossed into North Dakota. It was beautiful, and completely obscured the sun that was getting low in the sky. Finally, it grew dark, and the temperature gauge read 30 degrees (F). It was just cold enough to allow that fog to start freezing on the roadway and on the van. Not good. I looked at distance signs to the next sign, and it looked like Bismarck was the next major city of any size, and it was another two hours away. I sighed, and went through another round of slapping myself, attempting to stave off sleep for another ten minutes.

Then, I noticed a big billboard on the side of the road advertising a couple miles up the road. There were more of them, and I grew excited. JAMESTOWN! I had forgotten about Jamestown. It was the equivalent of getting out of jail a year early; I happily exited the freeway, and followed the signs to a hotel.

Ten minutes later, I was standing in my room, feeling good about myself. I knew that a hot shower, a delicious dinner of homemade chili and a beer followed by a good long sleep in a quiet bed. Ahh… Is this not happiness?

The journey continues tomorrow when I take on the western side of North Dakota, and decide on where to play in Montana. Stay Tuned!

Kayaking with Jelly Fish

I was sitting on the far side of an island I don’t remember the name of anymore. It’s not important to this story, and perhaps the only important part of this story consists of three elements: Whales blowing and breathing far off in the distance, a small lion’s mane jelly fish puffing just underneath the surface of the water, and the fact I was happily rafted in a thick mat of bull kelp sitting semi-comfortably in a big yellow kayak.

I rafted myself in kelp for a couple of reasons. For one, I didn’t feel like paddling. I just wanted to chill and listen to the sound of the whales blowing and taking in air. Secondly, I know that sea otters often raft up and hang out in the kelp, lounging on their backs and eating clams on the half shell. I’ve been known to imitate animals and the sea otters aren’t a bad animal to ape. Thirdly, I could see a bald eagle in the tree above me, looking for an easy meal. I could also hear the roaring belches of distant stellar sea lions, which I have described in detail in past posts. In short, it was a good place to hang out and be at one with the world. I let my senses free to explore as they will. Since I had been up for almost 20 hours straight, it was easy to zone out and let my thoughts and interests wander. It was kind of like being high, yet much healthier. I’ve only been high on morphine, but that’s another long story for another time. It involved skateboards, emergency rooms and odd memories.

As I gunk holed and relaxed, I looked down and saw a beautiful jellyfish just below the surface of the water. It’s head was perhaps six inches around. It was orange, partly translucent, and happily puffing along. I thought it was beautiful. The contrasted coloring against the dark blue green of the water was fantastic, and I took the portrait you see here.

It was a lovely way to spend an afternoon. I’m starting to really like kayaking.

Puffin Flight

Puffins aren’t gifted flyers. When landing, they tend to crash land into the water instead of gracefully “skiing” in as some of their cousins do. Perhaps that’s part of their charm. They are klutzy beauties of the sea. Here are a few facts about puffins. Puffins are particular about what they eat. What puffins lack in flying ability, they make up for in swimming ability, and they catch their food by diving underwater and nabbing it with their beaks.

They live and nest in areas where they find their food supply, usually high up on small island cliffs that rise steeply out of the water. Two Islands that I know of that are home to puffins are the Marble Islands in Glacier Bay Nat’l Park, and St. Lazarius, a National Wildlife Refuge located roughly 20 miles west of Sitka, Alaska. I surmise that they like the view, the protection, and they like easy take offs, and short flights to their food that these islands provide.

When puffins take off from the water, they have to take off into the wind. They aren’t aerodynamic enough to fly other directions. They start by winding up their wings and flapping hard. They start padding along the water with their feet, running hard and flapping hard, until they finally get airborne. Then they continue to flap hard, to keep themselves aloft until they crash land once again into their desired location.

Puffins are charming, awkward and cute. If you have the chance to watch puffins for awhile, I’d recommend you take the time to watch these marvelous creatures.

Misty Mornings

Alaskan mornings are some of the finest I’ve experienced. There are so many dimensions and depths of layers to the land and seascapes. We had been experiencing heavy fog for the better part of the night. In fact, it was kind of like looking at the world through a white plastic bag. We had our foghorn running, and extra watch on the bridge long after the sun had come up. I was working on the aft of the ship when the fog began to break. It started slowly. I looked up and realized I could see the tip of a mountain and scattered blue skies. Then I could see the whole mountain, and watched the swirling mists curl around the spruce trees. With the mirror quality of the water, fantastic patters began to emerge. They held briefly to allow me to appreciate their beauty before transforming themselves once again. The scenes you see here lasted for the better part of a half hour before it had almost completely lifted. During that time, I was transfixed, hypnotized by the swirling mists and captivating landscape.

Fishing

Alaskan Fishermen enjoy some of the most dramatic scenery while catching fish for a living.

Alaska will probably haunt me in my dreams forever.