Running

This is as dark as it gets mid June in Interior Alaska.  The sun just starts to set and then before you know it, it's rising again.  

What we are doing driving along on a two lane road without another vehicle in sight, just curious moose and fearless porcupines keeping us company, as we wind through the mountains of the Alaska Range, is beyond me.

You see, today I am boarding an airplane, headed about as far as I can get without a passport from my home, and here we are, winding around corners discussing the best order of efficiency to get it all done and be on that jetway in time.

I'll be at Haven this week, spending time with fellow DIY bloggers and hosting a carpentry workshop.  And today, there is just so much to do to prepare.  A weeks worth of posts to write.  Two weeks worth of laundry piled up. Cocktail dresses and cordless drills to pack up.  Chickens to feed.  

But these are the most minor of our concerns.

You see, instead of spending the last couple of days preparing for our trip to Atlanta, we instead created more work for ourselves.  We are packing with us a weeks worth of slimy, messy work, worth more in pounds than I've ever made per hour.  Slimy, messy work that needs to be done before we board our airplane later today.

Did I mention the airport is another 100 miles ... past our house?

We are foolish.

We are crazy.

But we cannot help ourselves.  The rough road seems to be the only one we know how to take.

It's June and our freezers are running low.  Our supply of canned salmon is out, and we are in desperate need of fresh fish.

Up here in Alaska where the sun leaves us for months and months, the native Alaskans kept their Vitamin D levels up by eating lots of fresh fish.  And that's how I keep my family's Vitamin D levels up.

Salmon is like garlic, onions, rice and moose meat in our house.  It's what grew up eating, and it's what we feed our own children.  It is a necessity.  

And we are out.

And rumor is the fish are running.

So we head south, forgetting our mile long to do list, driving several hours through the Alaska Range and beyond

Until the road starts dropping and you feel your ears popping

My daughter, eagerly perched behind my seat, knows what's on the other side of that hill.  And she's only five years old.  We are here.

The hill goes down, winding around the mountain side, following the Copper River. That is the river that we dipnet each year for wild Alaska salmon.

It's a tiny town of 169, swelling to thousands in the summer when the fish run, called Chitina. 

photo by Northwest Haidaan

Passing by a few primitive building, wishing a stoplight could give me a longer chance to admire the historic buildings,

We pass through the town way too fast, and it starts to rain.  Weather is rarely on your side in Chitina. 

But this does not stop many Alaskans from filling up their freezers, despite high wind, blowing silt and rain.

Despite a rushing silty river so cold and dangerous, even the most daring become careful

Despite a sun that never sets, demanding nets to never rest.  Despite long hours of holding a long long net, scraping the bottom of a dark river.

You just keep hanging on to your net, hoping for a bump.

Sometimes it's just a rock

And sometimes, it's dinner for a week.

And sometimes, its dinner for a month.

For everyone we know.

Then the real work begins.  We've brought with us our sawhorses

But this abandoned table, made from a pallet, is what I want to bring home.  Isn't it beautiful?

The eagles soar overhead demanding their share

But we've got ours.  

If I show up to Haven looking a little tired and smelling like smoked salmon ... please don't judge me.

The fish were running.