13. Hunting and Fishing
January 28, 1995
Greetings from the Last Frontier with more Notes From North Pole,
Each tmre I put one of these epistles together I think, "Well, that's it, that's the last one, surely I have run out of material. Then Alaska comes through again with another incident that seems to cry out for someone to record.
Diana and I had the pleasure of playing guide to many of our old friends last year. On one of our outings, we were driving home from the Kenai Peninsula where we had taken a boat tour of Resurrection Bay (with Richard and Martha Guraedy. Birds, dolphins, sea otters, and to top it all off we saw a glacier "calve" a very large iceberg.
We were in an area where there are no houses for miles. Then we saw movement up ahead and were reminded of one of Robert Service's poems which states "..the northern lights have seen queer sights... ". There was a man in hunting clothes, rifle strapped on his back, walking right along the side of the road on his hands. Now, I don't mean this guy had his body up in the air. I mean that he had no legs and was walking on his hands. Putting one hand in front of the other (just like we do our feet), not swinging his body, putting his rear down and moving forward. Boy, was I glad I had witnesses. We did a lot of questioning (How could he walk like that on his hands? Was he hunting by himself? If he bagged a moose or bear what was he going to do with it?) but got no answers. This type scene (in the middle of wilderness) does not encourage stopping and showing uninvited curiosity.
I related the incident to a very skeptical staff. Offered to bring in my brother for verification but all to no avail. First they inform me that they had met my brother (I did not think it would do Richard much good to question this statement), had listened to many of my other stories of joint youthful happenings (I do have to admit to a certain amount of added color on occasion), had heard that "Cajun cook" on TV (Justin Wilson adds an even higher level of) and were not inclined to put a great deal of faith in a story this bizarre. Interestingly, they did not question anything other than the manner in which the guy walked on his hands.
Vindication! My Chief of Cultural Resources was in Wasilla and saw the same guy (minus the rifle). Nearly wrecked his truck as he pulled a U turn and headed across three lanes of traffic into a gas station. He wanted to get a good look, but like the rest of us, did not think it advisable to take a direct approach and needed an excuse to stop. The station attendant was not too happy when Doug told him to, "fill it up" and it took $2.20 in gas (he had just filled up in Anchorage). Seeing the look on the attendants face as the "fill it up" amounted to less than two gallons, Doug decided to buy a coke, bag of chips and several other items. This, however, purchased him the information that the subject of our curiosity lived in Wasilla, had been born without legs, had always walked on his hands in this manner, and INDEED did not welcome very much prurient (my word, his was not very nice) curiosity.
Alaska has a King that rules the state for part of the year, King Salmon that is. When the kings are running, there is talk of little else. Diana and I been wanting to go salmon fishing because it sounded like fun and because they are a very tasty fish.
We were joined by the Nichols (Leonard and Joann) and Floyds (Jerry and Elaine) from Wyoming who were up for a visit. We spent the night in Gakona Lodge (listed on the National Historic Register). A typically Alaskan roadhouse on the banks of the Gakona River. It is built of logs, very picturesque, floor made wavy by years of frost heaves, and bathroom down the hall (at least they brought it inside as a concession to the modern world).
We floated 10 miles along the Gulkana River and this trip alone would have made our day ─ whether we caught fish or not. Our party had to be put into different rafts for the day. My group stopped at a likely place and I had made only two casts when things started happening. Now, I may not be the fastest learner around, but a light weight line moving upstream told me that there might be a fish on the other end. I set the hook, raised the rod ( which hardly moved) , attempted to reel (proved to be nearly impossible) and using my Monstrous powers of deduction decided that a big fish was on the line. We fought! About 10 minutes later I was beginning to believe that I had somehow caught a whale in this shallow, fast-moving river. Then came elation, the fish seemed to be tiring and I was winning ─ until he hit the shallow water. All hell broke loose. I could hear the line sing as be pulled it out and headed for deep water. Fifteen to twenty minutes later I reeled in my first king salmon, 25 inches long, 15-20 pounds, and a beautiful red and silver color. The limit is one per day so the guide asked me if I wanted to keep it. Hunh? "If you keep it you will have to quit fishing for the day."
That was the biggest f ish I had ever caught on a rod and reel! I had come to fish and a few minutes was not going to be satisfactory ─ so I told him to turn it loose (but had to cover my eyes and not watch). Sometime later (and not even one bite) I was beginning to dream of that fish and wonder how I might convince everyone I really had caught a king (and explain why in the world I turned it loose). Amidst my dreaming, I realized that the line had once again started upstream. I set the hook and was startled to see the pole bend double. This one did not wait on the shallows to really fight. He took nearly all of the line off the reel and we fought for the next half hour or so. Finally, I landed a 25 pound male (I intended to keep this one no matter what it weighed).
I really wanted to brag about that fish when I rejoined Diana and the rest. Luckily, she spoke first and said, "Look in the boat". Damn if she hadn't caught a 25 pounder also. Since these were the only fish caught, this did not make us the best of hosts. However, I did ask everyone to come back next year and told them we would catch their halibut for them.
Diana and I did have a wonderful week with the Nichols and the Floyds. All of us were reminded of the size of Alaska as we saw the sights. The trip to Denali National Park started at 3:30am (but it's light in Alaska) and ended at 11:30pm (but it's light in Alaska, remember the rule that you have to say this about "night" times, in Alaska, in the summer ). We rode the school buses (no private access into the middle of the park) along a rough dirt road; but, got to see grizzly, caribou, moose, fox, sheep, and a wide variety of birds.
We also made it above the Arctic Circle. Ken and Dreda Pitchford accompanied Diana and I up the haul road (along the Alaska Pipeline). It was a real nice drive and we took the requisite picture with us standing in front of the marker, in the middle of a rain storm, and in the middle of a horde of mosquitoes. There were so many mosquitoes that we could only pick a handful of blueberries (I was lied to and told that bears were the hazards of blueberry picking) before we were forced back to the car, tucked away our pride, and made a rapid retreat to the south. Now I'm sitting here minus mosquitoes (also minus 52 degrees) and wondering if I'm really looking forward to next summer. Oh well, we still have four months of winter left, and the best part at that. The dog sleds are running, northern lights shining, ice sculptures being carved and above all the sun peeking higher above the southern horizon. Life is good!!
And, once again it's time to end this epistle from Paul.