Our route back to Alaska was circuitous this time around, first looping south to visit our San Diego friends, where we explored the desert and saw bighorn sheep, then returned to the breathing blue Pacific – how tantalizing it is to be within sight of the same ocean that brings life to our Alaskan home - for squid sandwiches and palm trees, foraging citrus on the side of the road.

Those lemon/lime hybrids were tucked in our luggage and taken with us extra far north, to our friend who lives in the community (not the peak) of Denali, where we celebrated the new year. Cross country skiing, an Alaskan lefse making party, visits to friends and to friendly sled dogs, and cozy early dark evenings with neighbors dropping by for an impromptu beer and moose stew dinner made our souls glad to be back in Alaska.

We got to glimpse Denali, North America’s tallest peak, on the flight from Fairbanks to Anchorage.

Heading south again via an hour flight from Fairbanks to Anchorage and another 50-minute flight from Anchorage to Kodiak, we made it back to our snowy home island in time for a special 75th birthday, for visiting Adelia’s family and catching up with our friends, and for joining hundreds of our fellow fishermen in a days-long meeting to participate in the decision-making process for the next few years of our fisheries management at what’s called the Board Of Fish. The BOF meetings take place over four days in which the public is allowed and encouraged to voice concerns and help shape public policy directly.

Finally, just a couple days ago, we boarded the mail plane – a de Havilland Beaver on floats - that flies once a week from Kodiak to our Uganik home territory. As we got closer to Village Islands, we felt a few bumps in the flight and looked below to see whitecaps and streaks of foam on the gray green ocean, pushed relentlessly along by a building wind. Our pilot managed to angle behind the islands, land and taxi to our beach, drop us off, and take off just in time before the northwest really kicked up. Our little house, though snowed upon, was quite toasty in no time, thanks to our pile of dry firewood and the extra foam insulation we’ve been adding as time permits to the outside of the walls. Falling asleep in the undisturbed darkness of our wilderness home, with the waves as our soundtrack, was about as peaceful as it can get.

The mail plane took us over Buskin Lake - our last glimpses of the road system in Kodiak - with the Devil’s Prongs in the background.

Through all these peregrinations, we can’t help but notice that our Uganik salmon seem to swim with us. Not only in our minds and stories, but literally, in our bodies. Our smoked salmon was the star of the San Diego evenings, served with cheese and crackers to a rotating cast of Uganik friends and their relatives sitting around the kitchen table swapping stories, and it served as the perfect road-side snack while tooling around the desert. In Denali, the salmon connection brought us new friends and promises to visit Kodiak. Sockeye salmon was our first meal upon arriving in Kodiak, while smoked salmon and even a special lox done by a friend were a highlight of the birthday party spread. And king salmon capped it all off! Our nearest neighbor in Uganik, who has a boat and kindly hauled some heavier things from town, like propane and a bag of concrete for us, gave us a large chunk of king salmon from her freezer when we offloaded our stuff. Salmon any time of year is about as wonderful as it gets in our book.

Last night we baked off the fillet with a little olive oil, lemon juice, and salt and pepper. Nothing fancy, because we wanted to let the king itself shine through. And today we feel just as energetic as can be with all that goodness in our bodies, which is a great thing because it dumped snow last night and we needed the fuel to power our activities. After shoveling and tromping down our paths to the woodpile and the outhouse, we took off on a snowshoe up our home mountain. We went less than 2 miles, but the workout was intense – I can’t remember having seen such deep snow here! It feels like a 30-year winter. After our travels, we are so glad to be right where we are, with boots – and snowshoes – on our home turf! Aside from enjoying its beauty, we in the salmon world welcome this precipitation because it will turn to life-giving water later in spring and summer to feed our salmon streams. All our travels only serve to heighten our awareness of what a gift it is to be so intertwined with the ecosystem of our island.

Snowshoeing behind our house in the magical quiet of a Uganik winter, January 2020, 10:46 am.

Making Our Way Home