August 12, 2009

A sort of darkness does appear during the nights again.  The fireweed has bloomed and is disappearing.  Cool mornings and clear skies suggest that summer is ending.  It feels oddly depressing, even though fall is awesome in Alaska.

We had another unbelievable weekend.  We kayaked down on the Kenai Peninsula.  Saturday we drove down and set up a campsite at the Trail Lakes Campground before dropping the kayaks in the intimidating but oddly calm Kenai Lake.  As we headed away from the highway along the shore, the limited signs of civilization quickly disappeared.  The shore was a burn area, full of toppled trees and brushy undergrowth.  The shore was steep and rocky in places and blocked by downed trees in others.  Occasional gravelly beaches invited us in for a few breaks.  We ate lunch and skipped stones.  I fished a little with no success in the glacially clouded water.  Occasional salmon jumped and splashed in the big water of the lake.  We paddled down the shore about four miles.  We were all alone.  A few small motor boats passed in the distance.  As we took our last break on the beach, the lake turned into a completely mirrored surface, peacefully calm and totally relaxing.  We paddled a little further.  I was hoping to find a larger stream dumping into the lake around every bend.  We found a half a dozen small streams, but no fish taking advantage of the clear water dumping into the lake.  As we explored one last point, I noticed a disturbing wind. 

The occasional light winds had been in our face on the way out, a perfect plan for a quicker return if the wind picked up.  Unfortunately, the wind shifted and quickly became a bit steady.  We began our four mile push toward the campground.  About half way, the lake became mean.  Waves began pounding us from the front and side with spray hitting us in the face.  At least it was warm outside.  The wind resisted our progress.  We flashed back to our scary experience on Skilak Lake.  We knew where the beaches were on the way back, but we also knew there were a few long stretches with virtually no landing.  Some areas were actually rocky cliffs right against the water.  We stopped at a nice wide beach and waited.  The wind calmed a little and the waves improved slightly.  I scanned the shoreline with the binoculars and identified an easy beach a quarter mile up.  We decided to make a run for it.  The waves were still not good, but we got up to the next beach and discussed our options.  We decide to keep going.  We figured if we decided to abort, we could easily turn around and paddle downwind back to the beach.  As we rounded the last exposed rocky stretch, we began to relax.  We were both soaked as we both took big waves to the side that splashed pretty good, but we never really felt unstable or at risk. 

It is still a serious matter of decision making that challenges you mentally.  When is it too bad to continue?  How do you know when it is better to spend a night on a beach instead of paddling through a few waves?  How much can these kayaks take?  The consequences for a bad decision can be extreme.  We hope our decision making is conservative, but we also know that making it through is not proof of a good decision.  Were we just lucky or do we actually know our limits?  Either way, we were both quite happy to be back on shore.  We loaded the boats back on the roof of the car and headed back to the campsite for a late dinner.

On Sunday we decided to explore Cooper Lake.  This was a fantastic choice, although another rather large lake with the inherent risk of waves.  We parked the car on a gravelly beach and headed down the shore line toward the shallow end of the lake.  We made a loop around the shallow end of the lake and finished with a crossing.  The lake was about a mile wide as we crossed, a little scary for those of us who prefer to stay close to the shore, but made scare-free by the total lack of wind as we crossed.

I found some dollies and rainbows in the weeds on the far end.  They were decent sized fish, a perfect size for eating, but I was catching and releasing.  The dollies seemed to prefer a jig with a rubber tail and they would not give up, violently shaking their heads even as I removed the hook.  The rainbows seemed to prefer a small streamer on the fly rod.  I caught several of each, although the weeds and variable wind directions made fly fishing a little challenging at times.

The far side of the lake was lined with rocky islands inhabited by nesting seagulls.  We snuck between the islands and the shore.  It reminded me of an intracoastal waterway.  Some of the islands were quite large with large trees.  It was a perfect day and the islands added to the sense of exploration.

I have been fishing on Campbell Creek.  It is finally silver salmon season on my stretch of the creek.  I haven’t caught any yet, although I have seen a few fish moving through.  I did hook one big fish last week.  It seemed too big for a silver and too bright and lively for a king.  I didn’t land it and it released my spinner under tension, launching it high into a tree behind me.

Campbell Creek is still an unbelievable place to hang out.  I have been hanging out with a duck with a broken wing this year.  She seems relatively unconcerned with my presence, often walking within a few feet of me.  I am worried what will become of her this fall.  Another female mallard has a brood of six babies.  She is probably not a good mother as she allows her babies to wander around my feet.  Yesterday they were too close at times to get pictures as the lens I had on doesn’t focus that closely.  The beavers have been the weird experience this week.  I have seen several of them, three last night alone.  The creek is narrow with relatively small deep pools where a beaver could reasonably hang out.  They slap their tails to demonstrate their irritation with me, often within just a few feet of me.  It is a weird experience in the city.  A mother moose with twins has been hanging out in our stretch of the creek this summer.  I ran into them late last night.  It is fun to see the kids grow up, although momma was still teaching them which plants to eat along the shore of the creek.