Rialto Beach

Jess came into the Saltwater appartment and was really looking forward to going camping after she got off the boat. So we set out for the Olympic Penninsula, this time we headed for Rialto beach. Melanie also came along.
Camp was in the rainforest about 2 miles from the coast but it was a nice walk down to the beach. The beach was not very sandy, the waves washed up against cobble stones and had left enormous logs of drift wood stranded high on the beach. Walking up the beach for a couple of miles brought us too hole in the wall, which was a natural arch through a headland. There were lots of tide pools around and plenty to keep 3 biologists busy.
We also took a short loop around James Pond which also had a myriad of aquatic creatures to examine.
Pictures: First- Jess and Melanie examining the muscles and barnacles on the rock. Second- Jess and I trying to cook rice and beans while waiting for the ferry.

An African Experience in America

I looked around on line and found a few cars I wanted to check out. There were several at dealerships along Aurora/Highway 99 so over a couple of days I worked my way by bus and on foot from one end of the road to the other looking at all of the dealerships along the way.
It came down to two station wagons. I was at the Toyota dealership with a small Asian man who was very intent on selling me a car. It was listed at something over 6000 but was on sale for 4888. I offered 2750 and my salesman took the offer to the back office. He came back with 3500. I called to a dealership that I had been to the day before and asked about a Honda I had seen. The Toyota pusher convinced me to put in a bid of 2900 and after he had been to see his boss he came back with an offer still over 3000. I told him I was going to buy the car I had seen the day before. I walked out of the office. He came out calling after me. "Wait, wait, wait, we can give you your price."
I haven’t had a salesman try that hard since I was buying masks in Douala. But despite his efforts I had set my self on the Honda, so I got on the bus for one last ride. At the transfer point There was a man who was talking rather loud. He made some comments to a boy who was riding by on his bicycle and then continued to talk. I didn't think much of it until he walked around where I could see him and I realised that he was not talking to any one in particular. Some of the things he said sounded like they might be movie quotes but I couldn't tell which movies; he made some comments about fishing but he did not direct them towards the guy with a fishing pole. The guy with the pole ingnored him. Once on the bus he took a seat. At the next stop a mother with a young son got on. The loud guy started talking to the kid. It was fun watching the amuzed looks on the faces of other passengers as we waited to see how long it would take for the mother and son to realize he was crazy. Again this is something I have not seen since being in Africa. There are not nearly as many crazy people roaming the streets here as there are in Africa.

After getting back to the Independance lot and calling the bank to free up my card I am now the owner of a new car.

Picture: 1993 Honda Accord wagon, Standard Transmission, AC, Cruise Control, Seats that fold flat in the back. It is parked in front of the Saltwater Inc. apartment in Seattle.

Sol Duc Hot Springs and Deer Lake

Keith and I were sitting in the apartment talking about heading south to Astoria when Ramsey came in and said he thought it would be cool to go to the Olympic Peninsula and see the rainforests. So we started checking ferry schedules and loading things into the car, and added Jacob and Anthony to the passenger list. After stopping for groceries and getting across the ferry it was already evening and all of the information centers about the park were closed. We did find one with some maps available outside the door and decided that a hot springs sounded nice so we headed to the spot labeled Sol Duc Hot springs on the map.
After making camp and eating some dinner we went to the hot springs to see if we could get in. The hot spring was surrounded by a resort which was closed for the night. But there were some people coming out of the building and they invited us to come along to a bonfire that they were going to make on the gravel bar on the river. So we got some fire wood and some alcohol and went down to the river. After sitting around the fire for a while one of the girls there said she could sneak us in to the hot springs so we went back to the resort and tip toed down a hall where many of the workers stayed and came out by the tiled tubs and pool that were filled by the springs.
After a cold night sleeping in a tent we got up and went for a hike. The campground was in old growth rainforest with large moss covered trees. We went up to Deer Lake. Along the way we got up into some patchy snow and beyond we sank into the snow up to our knees.
We considered another night camping, those who had warm sleeping bags were in favor, I was against, so we decided that it would be better to make the evening drive and arrive late back in Seattle. It is a little frustrating when I have the right gear but it is all in the wrong place.

Exit 38

There is no need for a plan when staying at the Saltwater appartment; things just happen when every body is ready. Eric, Jacob and I had nothing to do for the afternoon so, despite the grey weather, we headed to the closest climbing area at Exit 38 off of I-90.
We looked at a couple of the rock faces which were a bit wet and ended up at Peanacle. Eric sent the first route and anchored the rope; then Jacob and I each took a turn numbing our fingers against the cold rock. Just as we were finishing up some snow pellets began to fall. We hunkered down between the rock and a tree and smoked a cigar while we waited on the weather and watched the rock turn dark with the damp. The clouds did break after a while but it is no good trying to climb on wet rock so we hiked back to the car.

Frenchman's Coulee

Life in the Saltwater apartment in Seattle is too crowded and cluttered to take it for long. So Eric, Alex, Keith and I set out to go camping and rock climbing. We went to Frenchman’s Coulee, which is across the Columbia River from Vantage near George. Between looking for a camping permit in the off season and trying to buy some fire wood we got quite the run around. We finally found the one store that had permits at this time of year and we swiped some two by fours from a stack of broken pallets behind a building.
The coulee is pretty impressive with hundreds of basalt columns lining the sides of the canyon. We got in kind of late but managed to get in a couple of climbs on the feathers, a single line of columns with a small gap in the middle to get to the back side.
We cooked hot dogs over the fire for dinner and sorted our selves out in a small tent and the car to sleep.
The next morning we went to look for the main climbing area. It turns out that it is very popular and gets crowded on the week ends. We lost a lot of time looking for a route that was not too difficult and not being used. We eventually got a chance to climb and took turns belaying as every one got a chance to climb. We moved to a less crowded area after that and got in one more short climb before we had to head back to Seattle to get Alex to the airport on time.

Pictures: First - Eric is leading a climb at the Feathers. Second - I am belaying Eric in the main climbing area while Alex watches.

St. Paul

At the airport I discovered that the “slight problem” was that Saltwater had booked the ticket from Anchorage to St. Paul instead of from here to Anchorage. Of course slight problems are easily fixed by getting the next available seat – in three days. The woman at the counter and the taxi driver advised, since Sunday was Easter and everything would be closed, those of us who were stuck at the hotel at the airport should go into town and stock up on groceries to get us through a couple of days:
Cheese, crackers and summer sausage
+ Cup of Noodle (4)
+ microwave dinner
+ mixed vegetable tray with dip
+Chips
= $50
There were four other people stuck waiting with me. One was Jorge, who was a deck hand on the Intrepid, I had not gotten to know him on the boat but I thought it would be interesting to talk to him for a while. He lives in Columbia, and his only baggage was a clear plastic bag full of stuffed animals for his girlfriend. He found the television lounge in A wing and parked himself there for 20 hours or more so I never did get to talk with him.
There was also a middle aged man who wore shorts and unbuttoned his shirt half way when he was inside. The stringy hair that hung across his face only half covered the scabby infection on his temple that had got him sent off the boat toward a doctor. He liked to read Clive Cussler and was fortunate enough to get a standby seat on Monday’s flight.
A greasy haired hick was the third and the fourth was young guy of Asian descent. The latter looked on the verge of panic when he discovered that he might be spending a day or two in a hotel room alone. A little later he commented that it would be nice if we could just drive back home. I laughed and said if he could get a boat we could drive that back. He turned serious and asked if there was no way to drive back on land. I told him we were on an island and he said he thought maybe there was a bridge or something. I shook my head partly to tell him no and partly in disbelief that any one could be so ignorant of their location.
After sleeping 14 hours to catch up from the last two days of finishing up work and packing, there was not much left of Sunday. I went out in the afternoon; walking east to the end of the road and then south to the beach. I was taking pictures of an icicle, trying to get a drip of water just falling off the end when an Arctic Fox came over the dune, he came within 3 meters before he realized I was crouched nearby. He quickly darted away, I tried to zoom in to get a good picture, but my battery was too low. According to the posters in the airport St Paul is a great place to come and bird watch because there are a number of rare species of puffins and auks that nest there, also there are thousands of fur seals that breed on the beaches. Naturally that takes place in the summer; in April there is nothing but dead grass, patches of snow and black sands.
I waited optimistically on Monday, but there were no spots on the plane. So I walked from the airport to town and back again. I bought a few candy bars and a bottle of coke to get me through the last night. Most of the time I was stuck I spent reading ‘I Robot’ by Isaac Asimov I was not sure about reading it thinking that I would know the ending after seeing the movie, but the only connection between the book and the movie is the 3 rules that govern the way Asimov’s robots think.
Tuesday finally came and I got out with out problem. It was a relaxing couple of days but it was good to get back to a real city and see some people I knew.

Disembarking

With the 90 day mark approaching it was time to get off the boat.
The Intrepid was fishing well north of Dutch Harbor so it was more convenient to off load the product to a tramper in St. Paul. The only information I had from the office was that a new observer was getting on and I would get off the boat and fly to Anchorage, but there was a slight problem with my ticket.

The harbor had just recently been dredged, so in theory, a large boat like the Intrepid could have gotten to the dock, but there is a tight squeeze past a jetty, and it made more sense to use the skiff. The skiff was craned over the side of the boat with all of the luggage loaded and one man to pilot it. He started it up and took it around to the stern ramp, where the fish are normally dragged up on deck. Then the four of us that needed to get to town walked down the progressively steeper ramp holding a rope to keep from sliding into the Bering Sea. There were some swells so we puttered along slowly to avoid splashing as the bow came over the waves. We headed around the cliffs to the dock. A local guy with an SUV who filled the role of taxi took us to the airport.

Ice

Like many other places, the Bering Sea was hit with some late winter cold. The sea ice moved farther south than it has for several years. The captain tried to avoid it by going down into the Gulf of Alaska but, the fishing was bad and the reports from the ice edge were promising so we headed up to the yellowfin grounds.

The ice was mostly broken up and long flows of broken sheets formed up. The boat would pass one flow and then find open water again. It took me about two days before I got up to the wheel house at the right time to see ice.

The atmosphere in the wheel house was tense exitement. Cruising among the ice flows is something that doesn't happen often, and while it is not really dangerous, one has to be careful not to hit the really big chunks, and one never knows when the weather might turn and pile the ice up trapping the boat between flows.

First Picture: The America No. 1 crossing a large ice flow.

Second Picture: The edge of an ice flow through the rail