Unalga Bight, Expedition Harbor, Adak Island, Aleutians June 3, 2012 00:19 AM 51N46.8 176W48
Since we moved aboard, we feel spoiled by our view wherever we go. The view to sea from the coast is often benign, a simple flat horizontal line where ocean and sky meet, sometimes accented with boats and clouds. The view from sea to land is where the action is: docks jutting out in the water, interesting architecture dotting the coast, trees bending over lagoons, sandy beaches mixed with rocky coasts, and behind it all peaks and mountains dancing up and down. And if all that is too overwhelming we too can turn to the calmer side and watch the sun slip into the sea. While those living on land flock to the coasts to relax and bask in the calm view, as soon as we set foot on land we have a strong instinct to head for higher ground, maybe because we spend so much time with a sea level view.
The pull of a hill or a peak or a summit on us is incredibly strong, and we are once again in territory with an abundance of options for going vertical. Our first weak attempts, brought us to the top of a few yellow mounds and knolls, but two days ago we moved around to a bay closer to the waterfall, and with land legs now stabilized we worked our way up and around to the top of the falls. They’re fed by a big lake or lakes even, which dramatically accent a plateau. The water features are scattered right up to the cliffs where the falls begin. The view was spectacular with the small bodies of somewhat terraced ponds, pools ,and lakes up high, set against the backdrop of coves, isles, and inlets of the bay of islands far below. There were patches of snow as we climbed, and behind and around us we could see hints of the snowy peaks with patches of rock going higher. No trees blocked the view, so the vistas were wide and expansive, limited only by the moisture content in the air. We had a few minutes of sunshine, but mostly it was all shades of yellow gray and white, patchy as a caribou’s hide. When I looked close to the ground I could see new blades of green grass piercing the mulch, and a rare flower bud, spring is springing just barely. It should be green here in a month before it all gets buried in snow again.
We’re in the habit of surprising the local caribou population on each walk. They’re a little skittish, but we’ve gotten quite close. According to Gart, they are not indigenous here, so it’s open season year round on this island, and he says ‘bou is tasty. We’re low on red meet, and are very tempted, but we were not able to come up with any good techniques for hunting them. One option would be to shoot them with the flare gun, but Kennan pointed out that we’d need to know the flammability of caribou fur before we wasted a flare trying to catch one on fire. Frank suggested strangling one with a guitar string, but I won’t let him take the guitar apart. Logan is ready to chase one down and stab it with his dive knife; he discovered he can move pretty fast down the steep hills with a beachcombed plastic snow shovel; the problem is they tend to run uphill when they see us. Logan and Kennan thought they could use their wrist rockets – the mom in me figured their only chance with wrist rockets would be to shoot it’s eyes out, then he’d be easier to chase down – if they didn’t shoot their own eyes out first! My own suggestion of tying a clump of fresh grass and carrots to a tuna hook on a rope, then waiting patiently behind a rock was scoffed at – they’re worried we’d freeze to death if we held still that long. Anyway, we blew our wad on Alaska fishing licenses, not hunting licenses, so the ‘bou burgers will have to wait, maybe we can buy some packaged ‘bou in town. I bet it would taste great roasted with blueb’s, but we won’t be picking those till we get to bear country.
The weather vacillates between very windy and quite calm; the temperature drops to about 37 degrees when the wind comes from the Bearing Sea, and rises to 40-45 degrees when the wind comes from the Pacific. This sure ain’t Tahiti anymore, but it’s a drop dead gorgeous landscape (so we wear many layers and keep moving).
Timewise we’re living like Parisians, dinner at 10 p.m., chat till 2-3 in the morning, then sleep in till 10-11 a.m. This long light really throws your clock off.
xoxomo