Early in the spring of 2019, I found out about a great opportunity. Our Alaska Chi Alpha ministry (Assemblies of God university campus ministry) was given a week to use a charter fishing lodge to raise funds. All they had to do was fill the week with donors and let them fish to their hearts content. As soon as I found out about it, I was in! It was a "bucket list" kind of opportunity that I have wanted to experience for a long time. Since turning 60 years old recently, I figure it is time to start crossing off those "want to's" off the list. This was a big one.
It was easy to justify as, 1. It was for missions! All the money goes to Alaska university missions outreach. Justified right there. 2. I called a good friend and urged him to go and he signed right on. I was going to spend some time with quality people, my friend and the leaders of our Alaska Chi Alpha. 3. Fishing! A whole week of it. On Prince Of Wales Island in Southeast Alaska (POW)! I have never been to POW before but had heard much about it from people who had. I was excited. I call it #winwinwin.
So, I had a couple of months to ponder what kind of equipment to bring while I anticipated the adventure. If you subscribe to the theory, "there is no bad weather, only bad gear", you know that the gear you bring can make or break your experience. Being cold, wet or too hot can all diminish the enjoyment of a great outing, so having the limited amount of gear and that I have, I wanted to put together the best and most applicable stuff I have.
There is a lot to consider. First, what am I going to actually carry all that gear in? Am I going to roll my suitcase around at a remote fishing camp? Is it going to get wet sitting in a puddle of water in the bottom of a boat with a bunch of dead fish or in the back of a pickup in the rain? Lots of unknowns.
What am I going to wear? I like cotton jeans to wear, but when wet, they bind and offer no warmth. Plus, when I eventually spill food on them (for some reason mustard is a frequent spill), they just stay dirty for the rest of the time. They don't have laundromats in fish camps, do they? So, I had to come up with some pants to wear.
Shirts are another critical consideration as well. What to wear that will provide some warmth, even if wet? Also, easy to clean since I am wanting to pack light. Synthetic materials are a must and some even have odor defeating treatments that can make you easier to be around.
Gear. Rain is a likely element to deal with. On Prince of Wales, they get over 200" of rain each year, so it is likely some of the days we will see rain. Something waterproof to cover myself is a must.
What about a firearm? If I do some freshwater stream fishing (part of the appeal of POW) not all the fishermen walk upright on two feet. I have the answer for that question. My Super Redhawk Alaskan in .44 magnum will provide a margin of safety if there is a dispute about who belongs on a stream with one of the more hairy residents of POW. By the way, POW has one of the highest densities of black bears in the world. No brown bears on this island which is surprising. It is documented that black bears have killed more humans than their bigger cousins, the brown bear. I feel good about bringing the SRA even if it is a bit of a boat anchor to lug around. I chose this particular model as it was what a friend of mine used when he was charged by a large male brown bear just a few years ago. Without it, he most likely would not have lived to tell the tale. It is an additional hassle to bring it along, double locked hard side cases, declaring it at airport check ins, picking it up at baggage claim, ID, TSA, etc., but, it would better to have it than not if it was needed.
Fishing poles and tackle. Now this is a fishing lodge and they do provide fishing poles and tackle, but they do not provide my preferred fly fishing rods or tackle. All of the saltwater fishing and tackle and bait is covered, so are spinning rods for freshwater, but I want to fly fish. POW has a legendary run of steelhead trout and sea-run cutthroat trout. Both species are high on my list to catch. So, I select two rods, a 5 wt. and an 7 wt. with appropriate reels. I have a huge selection of wooly buggers, beadheads, egg sucking leaches, beads and glow bugs to throw at any thing in the water so all of that goes in the pile of gear.
Socks, underwear, t-shirts, and oh, they have a jacuzzi hot tub! Swim shorts go in the pile as well.
Knives, cameras, handheld GPS, and a Leatherman folding pliers make up the hardware pile. Now I love knives so it is difficult to select just a single knife. There are so many for such diverse uses. I try to keep it to half a dozen with a sharpening steel thrown in as well.
I make lists to be sure I don't forget anything important. I look over my outdoor gear to see if it is in good repair or if it triggers a thought that I might have need of it. Understand, some of this is my love of anything gadgety, and by taking it on this trip, it would justify that I have it. One can feel a little guilty or sheepish if you have gear you have never used, but have it "just in case". I resign to the fact that I can't bring everything I would like to bring. I would need the Queen of Sheba's entourage and caravan to carry it all. Besides, I have this contradictory desire. I want to be an ultralight traveler. Weird, I know. I have a love of all things neat and handy but I want to carry a backpack of only two pounds. I have a lot of thinking to do and decisions to make.
I go shopping to get some of the stuff I'll need and where I live, the second hand store is the place to start. I need the right kind of bag to carry all of my bulky gear. I score. At the second hand store is a extra large waterproof duffle bag with pack straps that I could crawl into to use as a boat if necessary. The price? $18. Condition? Brand new, never used. I look it up online: $169. I love the second hand store. A couple of days later my wife and I stop by a random garage sale. A brand new back pack is scored for $10 and a waterproof back pack for $8, new as well. I have my traveling gear.
By the time it is the night before I leave, I have selected 40 pounds of stuff to go in my extra large waterproof duffle, which included wading boots, chest waders, fly reels and tackle, sandals, the aforementioned boat anchor, knives, rain gear and my coat. Also stuffed in are the waterproof backpack, empty at this point and some of my gadgets. Ready or not, here I come. I fill the new backpack with just my clothes for the week, and some snacks. Getting hungry would not be a good thing on a bucket list adventure.
Tuesday, July 2, 2019
Wednesday, May 22, 2019
A Spring Ride
It was a rare day in the spring of 2019, the sky was blue and sunny though the temperature had not risen higher than 54 degrees all day. The sun starvation of our long winter was making me antsy in the church office. My staff must have sensed my antsy-ness as they urged me to take the afternoon off to go riding. I told them I had to go to the post office and I would "pray about it" and if the Lord told me to take the rest of the day off, I would. I knew before I left I was not coming back.
I had been coming out of a bout of sickness that was hanging on and on so my energies were not up to par, but I was very interested in getting on my bike and getting out of town for even a few hours. With the hit and miss weather we had been experiencing this spring, my obligations as usual lined up on the few nice breaks in the weather and my free time always seemed to come when things were cold and wet. I was going to take advantage of my moment.
Not being on a bike for some time, one should take extra precautions to get reacquainted with the bike, traffic, and road conditions. So I chose the road less traveled for those reasons and headed out. It's a funny thing that when I head out on a day trip I usually don't have a destination in mind. I kind of let the road be the decision maker. If the traffic is busy one way, I'll go the other. If the clouds look forbidding in the direction I was going to go, I'll go the opposite direction. Today, the traffic and weather were all at comfortable levels so I considered that the road construction going north would have too much stop and go so, I decided south would be the thing to do.
There really are no bad decisions when it comes to destinations where I live. The scenery is fabulous wherever you decide to end up. One of the frustrations of writing about my riding is the limited amount of pictures I can plug into my blog. Riding a motorcycle tends to occupy your hands, (at least one of them) so taking pictures isn't really a possibility unless you stop frequently to safely get a picture. As a result, most of the pictures I take are at the beginning and end of a trip, or at gas stations and once in awhile on a long trip, a rest stop. So the brunt of the descriptions are the creative use of words to convey the idea.
It isn't until about five o'clock that I am ready to pull out of my driveway and head somewhere. I have already decided to go south. How far south? There is Kasilof, Clam Gulch, Ninilchik, Anchor Point and Homer. Each place takes at least 20 minutes to get from one to the other with Homer at the end of the road being an hour and a half away. I pull out still undecided as to my final destination.
I am soon on Kalifonsky Beach Road and turn my Ultra Glide south. It is running exceptionally fine. This is the first real ride since I had it tuned up last fall. New tires, spark plugs, oil change and all the fussy adjustments with clutches and cables, cams and cogs. As the still somewhat weak power of the sun begins to warm me as I ride, I think I would be a fool not to go all the way to Homer today. What if this is the only opportunity I get? I make the decision to go to Homer. With that settled, I switch on the cruise control and set my speed.
I am not in any particular hurry today, usually I ride a little faster, but I am savoring the moment, not trying to make speed and distance. I want to just let the things that build up in my head be dragged away by the wind as I take in the scenery.
It isn't but 20 minutes or so until I intersect with the Sterling Highway near Kasilof and turn further south. There are a couple of stop and go construction projects but they are doing a pretty good job about keeping the traffic moving. Everywhere in Alaska they are removing old, small, salmon blocking culverts and replacing them with ginormous culverts that allow a more natural flow of the stream and do not block fish from moving further up their natal streams when they are there to spawn. It's great for the fish and for Alaska so I am patient with it.
The scenery is at it's best today. The humidity must be low as there is no "haze" obscuring the view. The waters reflect the perfectly blue sky in a mesmerizing azure hue that is deeply intense. Cook Inlet often looks "muddy" due to the silty glacial tide flats the that surround it. Today it is beautiful.
The traffic is light and the few vehicles I encounter I pass easily and quickly with a short twist of the throttle after a quick downshift and then back to cruising speed. I slow as I go through Ninilchik and then twenty minutes later, Anchor Point. It is at Anchor Point I decide at the last minute to pull off the Sterling Highway and turn on to the Old Sterling Highway for a 9 mile diversion. This narrow, old, twisty section of road was once the main highway. I have no idea when they rerouted it, but it is easy to understand why. The thing with narrow, old, twisty roads is that motorcyclists love them. Generally, they are less traveled. you get to see different scenery than the main highway and you get to lean into your turns. And lean I do. I love it. (Fun fact: Anchor Point is the most westerly point you can drive in the northern hemisphere on a connected road.)
When I emerge to rejoin the main Sterling Highway I am not far from Homer. As you approach Homer, you realize the highway has been following a ridge that is a few hundred feet higher in elevation than Homer itself. At the top of this ridge, is a "point of interest" with a large parking area, beautiful plantings donated by the Homer Garden Club and that "million dollar view" that people come the world around to see for themselves. I can't not stop. I have seen the view more times that I could ever recount, but I have to see it again on this day. It does not disappoint. What does disappoint is my iPhone's camera's ability to capture the view with justice. It is a great day for viewing as Kachemak Bay is also haze free and the mountains feel ten times closer than they appear in the camera lens. I assure you, it is fabulous. My squinty-eyed selfie is testament to the sun and brightness of the day. The break and the view was nice but I can't come this far without going to "land's end" and the end of the Homer Spit.
Now I glide down "Homer Hill" into town and take the Homer city bypass and go directly out to the Homer Spit. The term "spit" must sound strange to people who don't live here. The "spit" is a narrow strip of land that extends into the bay, the Homer Spit being about 7 miles long. It really shouldn't be there but for some reason it is and it makes for a great harbor, charter fishing boats, sea food restaurants, and little shops that sell hand made fuzzy sweaters and tie dye shirts. It is a great destination and come July at peak season, it will be teeming with tourists. I don't have any reason to linger except to take in the view, so I stop briefly at the end of the spit to take another inadequate picture.
It is somewhat past dinner time and my hunger is making itself less easy to ignore so I decide to sate myself cheaply since I don't like to spend much on a big meal eating alone. McDonald's chicken tenders it is. Now you may wince at that choice, but again, the Homer McDonald's has probably the best view of any McDonald's anywhere.
I relax and slowly eat my chicken tenders and cruise a little Facebook and let my saddle weary backside catch a break. First rides are always a little bit that way. I know by the time I get home I will really be looking forward to getting off the Ultra.
As I step outside, I immediately sense that the air temperature is falling. It was only 54 degrees at the peak of the day so anything less than that is going to feel a bit chilly. I don my heavier gloves and my neck warmer in addition to my other riding gear and power out of the McDonald's parking lot. I begin to ascend Homer Hill and run my gears to their best effect. I love the power to weight ratios on big cruising bikes, you feel the mild g-forces set you back in your seat and you fly up the steep hill in what seems like a lighter than air moment.
The temperature certainly has fallen but I feel pretty good in my increased layers. The return trip home is smooth and almost traffic free, something that will be increasingly less so in the weeks to come as the ponderous motorhomes and pickup trucks hauling boats will crowd the insufficient Sterling Highway. By the time I turn into my driveway, the sun is still high overhead at 8 pm. I love the land of the midnight sun!
I back the Ultra into its spot in the garage and begin to unwrap myself from the layers of leather and polar fleece. I feel satisfyingly at peace with the world.
I had been coming out of a bout of sickness that was hanging on and on so my energies were not up to par, but I was very interested in getting on my bike and getting out of town for even a few hours. With the hit and miss weather we had been experiencing this spring, my obligations as usual lined up on the few nice breaks in the weather and my free time always seemed to come when things were cold and wet. I was going to take advantage of my moment.
Not being on a bike for some time, one should take extra precautions to get reacquainted with the bike, traffic, and road conditions. So I chose the road less traveled for those reasons and headed out. It's a funny thing that when I head out on a day trip I usually don't have a destination in mind. I kind of let the road be the decision maker. If the traffic is busy one way, I'll go the other. If the clouds look forbidding in the direction I was going to go, I'll go the opposite direction. Today, the traffic and weather were all at comfortable levels so I considered that the road construction going north would have too much stop and go so, I decided south would be the thing to do.
There really are no bad decisions when it comes to destinations where I live. The scenery is fabulous wherever you decide to end up. One of the frustrations of writing about my riding is the limited amount of pictures I can plug into my blog. Riding a motorcycle tends to occupy your hands, (at least one of them) so taking pictures isn't really a possibility unless you stop frequently to safely get a picture. As a result, most of the pictures I take are at the beginning and end of a trip, or at gas stations and once in awhile on a long trip, a rest stop. So the brunt of the descriptions are the creative use of words to convey the idea.
It isn't until about five o'clock that I am ready to pull out of my driveway and head somewhere. I have already decided to go south. How far south? There is Kasilof, Clam Gulch, Ninilchik, Anchor Point and Homer. Each place takes at least 20 minutes to get from one to the other with Homer at the end of the road being an hour and a half away. I pull out still undecided as to my final destination.
I am soon on Kalifonsky Beach Road and turn my Ultra Glide south. It is running exceptionally fine. This is the first real ride since I had it tuned up last fall. New tires, spark plugs, oil change and all the fussy adjustments with clutches and cables, cams and cogs. As the still somewhat weak power of the sun begins to warm me as I ride, I think I would be a fool not to go all the way to Homer today. What if this is the only opportunity I get? I make the decision to go to Homer. With that settled, I switch on the cruise control and set my speed.
I am not in any particular hurry today, usually I ride a little faster, but I am savoring the moment, not trying to make speed and distance. I want to just let the things that build up in my head be dragged away by the wind as I take in the scenery.
It isn't but 20 minutes or so until I intersect with the Sterling Highway near Kasilof and turn further south. There are a couple of stop and go construction projects but they are doing a pretty good job about keeping the traffic moving. Everywhere in Alaska they are removing old, small, salmon blocking culverts and replacing them with ginormous culverts that allow a more natural flow of the stream and do not block fish from moving further up their natal streams when they are there to spawn. It's great for the fish and for Alaska so I am patient with it.
The scenery is at it's best today. The humidity must be low as there is no "haze" obscuring the view. The waters reflect the perfectly blue sky in a mesmerizing azure hue that is deeply intense. Cook Inlet often looks "muddy" due to the silty glacial tide flats the that surround it. Today it is beautiful.
The traffic is light and the few vehicles I encounter I pass easily and quickly with a short twist of the throttle after a quick downshift and then back to cruising speed. I slow as I go through Ninilchik and then twenty minutes later, Anchor Point. It is at Anchor Point I decide at the last minute to pull off the Sterling Highway and turn on to the Old Sterling Highway for a 9 mile diversion. This narrow, old, twisty section of road was once the main highway. I have no idea when they rerouted it, but it is easy to understand why. The thing with narrow, old, twisty roads is that motorcyclists love them. Generally, they are less traveled. you get to see different scenery than the main highway and you get to lean into your turns. And lean I do. I love it. (Fun fact: Anchor Point is the most westerly point you can drive in the northern hemisphere on a connected road.)
When I emerge to rejoin the main Sterling Highway I am not far from Homer. As you approach Homer, you realize the highway has been following a ridge that is a few hundred feet higher in elevation than Homer itself. At the top of this ridge, is a "point of interest" with a large parking area, beautiful plantings donated by the Homer Garden Club and that "million dollar view" that people come the world around to see for themselves. I can't not stop. I have seen the view more times that I could ever recount, but I have to see it again on this day. It does not disappoint. What does disappoint is my iPhone's camera's ability to capture the view with justice. It is a great day for viewing as Kachemak Bay is also haze free and the mountains feel ten times closer than they appear in the camera lens. I assure you, it is fabulous. My squinty-eyed selfie is testament to the sun and brightness of the day. The break and the view was nice but I can't come this far without going to "land's end" and the end of the Homer Spit.
Now I glide down "Homer Hill" into town and take the Homer city bypass and go directly out to the Homer Spit. The term "spit" must sound strange to people who don't live here. The "spit" is a narrow strip of land that extends into the bay, the Homer Spit being about 7 miles long. It really shouldn't be there but for some reason it is and it makes for a great harbor, charter fishing boats, sea food restaurants, and little shops that sell hand made fuzzy sweaters and tie dye shirts. It is a great destination and come July at peak season, it will be teeming with tourists. I don't have any reason to linger except to take in the view, so I stop briefly at the end of the spit to take another inadequate picture.
I relax and slowly eat my chicken tenders and cruise a little Facebook and let my saddle weary backside catch a break. First rides are always a little bit that way. I know by the time I get home I will really be looking forward to getting off the Ultra.
As I step outside, I immediately sense that the air temperature is falling. It was only 54 degrees at the peak of the day so anything less than that is going to feel a bit chilly. I don my heavier gloves and my neck warmer in addition to my other riding gear and power out of the McDonald's parking lot. I begin to ascend Homer Hill and run my gears to their best effect. I love the power to weight ratios on big cruising bikes, you feel the mild g-forces set you back in your seat and you fly up the steep hill in what seems like a lighter than air moment.
The temperature certainly has fallen but I feel pretty good in my increased layers. The return trip home is smooth and almost traffic free, something that will be increasingly less so in the weeks to come as the ponderous motorhomes and pickup trucks hauling boats will crowd the insufficient Sterling Highway. By the time I turn into my driveway, the sun is still high overhead at 8 pm. I love the land of the midnight sun!
I back the Ultra into its spot in the garage and begin to unwrap myself from the layers of leather and polar fleece. I feel satisfyingly at peace with the world.
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