The Fur and Feathers Journal, 2024, Day Three, Entry Six, Tides, Tides, all about Tides.

 Been a while since I visited this site.   I am so easily distracted by my self-imposed projects.    The latest was to accumulate  almost 20,000 photos that were on various thumb drives and memory cards.   Now, they are all in one place where I have sorted them by category.   It's a work in progress and I'm taking a break from it for now.

So, let's get back to the Fur and Feathers Journals.

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When last we saw our intrepid travelers, they were at a remote tent camp under auspices of Silver Salmon Creek Lodge, Ronnie and Karl as hosts.   

Oliver, part owner/manager with his parents of the whole operation, had landed his Maule 3 on a gravel bar in the creek in front of camp, dropped off some supplies, took off and landed a hundred yards away on the shore of Cook Inlet.   There, he had much more "runway" available

First to go was Alicia, along with a lot of baggage.   When Oliver returned, Eddie and I piled in the plane for the very short flight to the lodge.   Eddie landed on a narrow trail that fronts the privately-owned cabins.

Photo by Karl.

Our cabin wasn't quite ready for us to move as the staff was still cleaning it from the guests that were leaving that day.

We took  a short ride around the area, looking for whatever caught our interest.

Our ride was restricted by the high tides. The  creek crossings were flooded and couldn't be crossed by the ATV and the trailer that hauled up around.

The dirt/gravel trail is where Oliver landed his plane.

The ATV trailer that hauled us around the area.

We looked for bears and Eddie spotted several but they were too far away to get a lens on them.   We found a bald eagle taking a bath in Silver Salmon Creek and that was the highlight , and. extent, of our late morning game drive.

And, we flushed some mallards.

After lunch, we moved into our cabin, which is actually a house.   The lower floor, where we were, is a complete house--living room, kitchen and two bedrooms.   Alicia and I paired up to share one room.  

Upstairs is another kitchen and breakfast nook,  two bedroom area where Karen stayed.   She would join our game drives.

Well, we couldn't get to the bears, so a bear came to us.   Just as we finished lunch, we were alerted to a visitor ambling along the trail.    

It paused nicely for photos in front of the blooming yarrow.

And came up the trail to the lodge grounds.

We all grabbed cameras and piled out of the lodge to see the bear.   This, frankly , is a common occurance and is one of the things that makes this place so special

The bear checked around the fish cleaning spot and then showed a special interest in the chef's cabin.

Then it strolled along in front of a bunch of us before turning into the forest.   It gave us all a nice face-on look.

I'm about 25 to 30 feet from this bear.

With that, we returned to our cabin for a break and to get ready for a late game drive when the tide was lower.

Fur and Feathers Journal, 2004, Day Three, Entry Five, Off and Flying

Off and Flying

L-R, me, Alicia, and Eddie.   Karl Arceneau photo

I wake to the tantalizing aroma of frying bacon and lie in my sleeping bag  thinking about the no-no of bacon in bear country.

 

I’ve always heard and believed that carrying or cooking bacon when tent-camping in the wild is a sure way to bring hungry, unmannered bears to your camp.   This morning, I have to laugh.  

 

Our tent camp in Lake Clark National Park and Reserve is surrounded by flimsy white tape that is electrified and is meant to keep the bears out of camp.   So far it’s worked because there is still bacon for me when I finally get out of my sleeping bag.

 

Even though the electric tape is unhooked during the day.

As feared, it's a cloudy day as we take leave of Shelter Creek.

 

My bags are packed.  This is our last morning at Shelter Creek and very soon our transportation will arrive to take us a little way north up the coast of  Cook Inlet to Silver Salmon Creek Lodge.   Imagine!  Running water.   Showers.   And, uh-oh, mirrors.  I’ve been wearing the same clothes for three days, day and night.

 

Ronnie sets about frying eggs to go with the bacon and—Ronnie's innovation—Blowtorch Toast.   It’s too chilly here for butter to be spreadable so a propane torch does the butter-melting honors.

Blowtorch Toast

L-R:   Alicia, Karl, and Ronnie

 

We learn that our co-host Karl is the mayor of a small town in Louisiana and that Ronnie is an artist and muralist of some fame.  He’s also a musician with his own band.   They are the best hosts owner David could have chosen for this camp after the regular host had to leave early.

 

Oliver arrives in his Maule light plane on HUGE Tundra tires and lands on the gravel bar that appears at low tide in front of camp.   He drops off some groceries and other supplies, then takes off and lands on the beach where he has more “runway.”

 

Alicia is the first to go with Oliver, along with luggage.   Eddie, who has been dawdling, has to make a sandwich out of his breakfast and carry it to the beach to await Oliver’s return.

Eddie, left, with his impromptu breakfast sandwich, and Karl

 

I look toward Iliamna volcano but it's all fogged in.

Our bags are waiting for us on the bank at camp.   We need to get them to the beach.

Saying good-bye to Karl ands Ronnie.

Three days, same clothes, no running water, no shower, no mirror.   Karl took this photo as I was settling into Oliver's Maule.

 

 Next:   Our afternoon at Silver Salmon Creek.

Fur and Feathers Journals, 2024, Entry No. One

 Entry No. One

Bears or Bed?

“Want to go out to the beach and check for bears?” asks  Karl after dinner on our first night at Shelter Creek tent camp.

 

I don’t respond, just reach for my camera and start to stand.  Then, while listening to my body hurling all kinds of threats and invectives, I stare down at the table for a moment and say, “No.  I’m going to bed.”

 

And I do.   

 

I am beyond exhausted.  I reach the tent, take off my shoes and wrestle my way into a large, flannel-lined sleeping bag with a pillow.   Inside the bag is a sheet folded in half length-wise and I try as best I can to get between the folded sheet while still wearing the rest of my clothes.

Four cot tents, but Alicia and I are the only two in this tent.

 

The sun is still shining, so it must have been 8-ish when I hit the sack.   Or  bed, or bag. Whatever.

The tents are Hansen Weatherports and very roomy.   These are the ribs with sun shining through the trees.

 

I am chilled.   The wind had blown all day and by evening I was starting to get cold.   After dinner, the chill really took hold.    I pull the sleeping bag over my head and snuggle down as much as I can while wearing clothes, and in between a folded sheet.

 

Then, I think about how I arrived here.

 

A week before I had no intention to go anywhere.   Then, Wednesday I spoke with a friend who offered me an unbelievable price for three nights in the Shelter Creek tent camp and three nights at Silver Salmon Creek Lodge.   It’s one of my favorite places in Alaska and after first declining because of the exterior restoration project I was immersed in, I changed my mind and said yes.

 

We were to meet at Lake Hood, the floatplane base in Anchorage, at 11 AM Sunday.  Our plane would be on wheels and take off from the adjacent airstrip.

I arrived there at 10 AM, but our flight was re-scheduled for the next day at 7:45 AM because of strong, blustery winds.

 

I drove the hundred miles home, had a lot of trouble falling asleep, got maybe two hours of sleep, and headed back the hundred miles to Anchorage.  

 

My friend, Eddie, and I were the only ones there.   The woman who organized the trip didn’t show until 10:30 or so.   Then, the pilot texted 11:30.   More waiting, but eventually we were off.   Mixed texts; mixed messages.

Tide flats west side of Cook Inlet

 

After an hour or so, the Cessna 185 skipped across the mud flats to slow the plane and came to a stop on the sandy beach.  Carts and staff met us, loaded our luggage and us, and headed for the lodge.

The charts are pulled by an ATV.

 

No sooner did we clear the first line of trees and enter the meadow, than we saw a Coastal brown bear walking our way.   No problem, we just let him go.

Here's a video I took, probably with my phone.   Listen to the noise of the wind.

 

After lunch at Silver Salmon Creek Lodge, we board an aluminum boat with Oliver in command and we bounce and slam our way across the waves about ten miles south to Shelter Creek.   The seas are rough.   So is the ride.

 

This boat, or another like it, is what took us to Shelter Creek.

We arrive at high tide and Oliver is able to enter the creek and drop us off right in front of camp.   We meet our co-hosts, Ronnie and Karl.

Karl, left, and Ronnie, right.   Great camp hosts.

Note the ladder to get up the bank.

  

Our glorious kitchen and Ronnie's domain.

 

One of the Hansen Weatherports

Four men toting fishing gear and huge cameras climb on board the boat for a ride back to the lodge.  They had to spend an extra day because of the same bad weather that delayed us.

 

I notice they look pretty glum and I wonder if they hadn’t caught any salmon.  But why do the photographers also look glum?   No bears?

 

We have a nice dinner and sit around chatting until Karl asks me about checking for bears.

 

Nope, nope.  Soon I am tucked into my flannel-lined sleeping bag. There will be bears tomorrow.

 

 

Looking upstream from camp.   The large peak on the far right is Mt. Iliamna, a dormant volcano.   The three peaks to the left are actually another ridge in from of Iliamna

Another upstream view showing the tidal spread of Shelter Creek.

Photo taken from in front of camp and looking to the mouth of Shelter Creek and into Cook Inlet.  That far green strip on the left is where Karl wanted to check for bears.

Fur and Feathers 2022, Chapter 4

 

Watching puffins run across the water to get airborne is a kick!

FINALLY!!!

INCOMING!!!

Common murre on takeoff.

A group of puffins is known by a range of names – a colony, a puffinry, a circus, a burrow, a gathering, or an improbability. 

Martha is worried about John talking to her rival, a horned puffin.   "I don't know what John sees in her.    I have better hair than she does, my outfit is classier, too.   She uses too much makeup on her bill."

"Martha, C'mon.   I was just being neighborly."

"They went that-a way!"

"No, I don't want a copy of the Watchtower.   I can't read."

"Looks to me like the neighborhood is going to heck, Jessie."

And a bald eagle flies above the fray.