Sunsets and Kayaks

This blog is inadvertently turning in to one about pretty sunsets and kayaking. So, if you don't care for either, I am sorry.

With that being said, I have more pictures to post of lovely outings, involving both kayaks and sunsets respectively.

Last Sunday, we headed to Mendenhall Lake. We've been meaning to kayak here for a while, but just never think about it until we've already picked another paddling location. The lake is at the foot of the Mendenhall glacier and is home to Seagulls, small silver fish, Arctic Terns, and according to my sister, a Sea Lion (which she claims to have seen while sitting at the edge of the lake one afternoon when she was visiting). It is a fresh-water lake, and has a milky grey-blue hugh dotted with small ice bergs. It's always windy and cold since the wind blows furiously down the glacier and out from the expansive ice field behind it. Because of this, we knew we were going to have a challenging day. And of course it was raining!




Our launching point.. pretty far from the glacier!


I spy fall.








We couldn't get too close to the ice bergs because they randomly flip over!




Nugget falls. If you look closely, you can see teeny tiny people at the base of it.




We were scared to get too close in case it calved (AKA pieces broke off and fell into the water)!








This was the COOLEST ice berg ever!


It was also the local Seagull hangout. Let's hope it doesn't tip and squish one :(


Amazing!!!!!!! If you enlarge the picture, you can see a gray rock sitting on top of the ice berg. This rock, also known as a glacial erratic, was embedded within the ice berg for thousands of years!!!! SO COOL. It reminds me of that cheesy movie Encino Man.

So we saw some pretty cool sights, but the kayaking was really tough. It was windy, rainy, and the kayak felt really uncomfortable for some reason. We were out for about 2 and a half hours, but it felt like all day!

Two days ago, I was in the dining room and the sky through the trees caught my eye. I gasped, like I usually do when I get excited about something, and Steph and I rushed to the car. We drove across to the harbor parking lot, where there is a perfect view down the channel. This is what we saw:








Look how pasty and white we are! No tanned New Mexican skin for me this summer... but at least I am reducing my risk of skin cancer!

Worship the sun

Something tends to happen here in Southeast Alaska when you get sick.


The sun comes out.


That's right. As soon as you feel a little tickle in the back of your throat, or your skin feels slightly sensitive to the brush of your shirt, the same gray clouds you've seen for a week suddenly part to reveal a brilliant blue sky, streaming ribbons of sunshine reflecting off the water, and temperatures in the 80's.
It's really marvelous, unless of course you're sick.

For two days last week, I would come home to a house that had heated up to well over 90 degrees by 4 in the afternoon. The fan blew hot air on my back, and I looked out the window and thought "why me?". Our giant windows let all of the sun and warmth and niceness in, paying no thought to it's human inhabitants who have to suffer and melt when they get home from work at 4 in the afternoon when that niceness verges on heatstroke. The only way to escape the insufferable heat in the house is to go outside, where there is usually a cool breeze blowing, or to go to the movies, with it's dark air conditioned theaters. A sick person would choose the latter. So, I watched a movie about traveling to far off places, warm climates where the sun always shines. I watched as I sat hunkered down in a cool, dark theater, on a sunny day, in a far off place where that same sun rarely shines. Ironic, really.


On Sunday I was feeling a lot better, so in the afternoon we loaded the kayak up and went out to a launch point in Fritz Cove. We saw whales in the distance, closer than last time. We could hear the noises they made as they let out puffs of air. Our kayak floated smoothly over calm spots in the water close to shore, spots so clear I was able look into the water and see rocks, barnacles and seaweed a few feet below. Fish jumped all around us, and the sunset was, again, spectacular.

A big gold Escalade pulled up to us as we were loading the kayak back on to the car. The driver's window rolled down and a man, who introduced himself as Joe, told us that he had been parked watching the sunset and took a couple of pictures that we happened to be in as we kayaked by. He asked us if we wanted them, which of course we did, and he sent them to Steph's phone. I thought that was such a nice gesture.

Here are the shots he sent us.


Check out our synchronicity! I'm in the front, Steph is in the back.



On Monday, it felt like I was getting sick all over again. Luckily I felt better by Tuesday, just in time for the clouds to return, and feel 100% better today. I was able to pick up on my running program yesterday, but it looks as if the couch to 5 k in 8 weeks program is turning in to a 10 week program thanks to my good for nothing tonsils.

Speaking of tonsils, I found out that I will have to fly all the way to Anchorage to see an Otolaryngologist when my insurance kicks in and I finally get my tonsils removed. The best part is that the State will be paying for the trips! I'm hoping to get them removed over Spring break, since Christmas is booked with a trip back to NM for the holidays :) and Ive read that I will be recuperating for about 2 weeks.

Today I moved upstairs to the IT department. It was awkward, and my experience can best be summed up if you picture me as an 8 year old. An 8 year old girl trying to join a "no girls allowed" club. I felt silly decorating my desk with my colorful picture frames and fake sunflowers. Don't get me wrong, everyone I work with is very nice and friendly, but they are all older men who have worked in IT and together for a very long time. I feel like I should know everything they know, and worry that they will assume that I do, or that I know more than I do anyways. I feel like I have first-day job jitters all over again!

Here is my new desk, and check out my two computer monitors! TWO. That's how special I am.

Silent explosions

1:00 pm, last Saturday. We picked our new Necky tandem kayak up from the ferry terminal out past Auk bay, the same ferry terminal that we left on our first blurry, sleepy morning as Juneau residents 4 months ago. It came wrapped up like a mummy, in sheets of plastic and padding and cardboard. I'm sure we were a sight, carrying this huge, wrapped, 90 lb. mummy across the parking lot to the Subaru. We unwrapped it, layer by layer, and hoisted the perfect, bright yellow kayak onto the top of the car.



That night, after installing the rudder, we threw our matching lifejackets, sprayskirts, paddles and other misc gear into the back seat and drove out the road.

I doubt whether either of us can describe the feeling of empowerment we had after finally getting our sea kayak. We hauled a blue tandem kayak all the way up here from NM, only to learn after taking a sea kayaking class that it was the wrong kind. So, when we could, we ordered this one and anxiously awaited it's arrival. "Let's go kayaking!" We'd joke on perfectly still, warm nights, as we gazed out at the placid green channel from our livingroom. We had everything we needed to kayak but the kayak.

When we finally got it into the water, we realized that there is a pretty drastic difference between 14 inches and 30 inches when you're talking kayaks. We had sliced through the water without any real difficulty in the blue kayak, and we puttered around in circles in this new yellow monster, trying to stave off the frustration that was building in our voices as we tried to paddle in sync. We were kayaking out of a harbor called Amalga Harbor, another picturesque little cove home to a couple of islands and a very busy boat launching ramp. Because of all of the boat activity, we were cautious and nervous about going to far out into the water, for fear of a boat's wake flipping the kayak, which had us much lower in the water than the blue kayak. I doubt we would have been flipped, but we certainly didn't have the control over the boat we needed to go out into open water. After switching seating arrangements and waiting out a few strings of larger wakes near the rocky beaches of the coastline, we decided to call it quits for the night. It was still fun, but we were definitely disappointed in ourselves and how difficult the kayak was to maneuver.




Frustration!


Bear?

On wednesday night, we headed back out with the kayak, newly named the Banana Boat for obvious reasons. We drove across the bridge to North Douglas island and pulled off into the parking lot of another launching ramp, this one less busy. On our last outing, we had forgotten to put the rudder down, but remembered it this time. We had a smooth launch into the calm water, and the sky was clear, with a soft, warm breeze blowing west. It was roughly 8 pm, and the sun was sweeping the tips of the Chilkats, getting ready to set. We knew that we would have at least two hours of useable light, thanks to Alaska's twilight, which seems to linger for longer than the fleeting twilights of New Mexico.





We started paddling, twisting our torsos and unwinding with every long sweep of the paddle in the water. We discovered that the rudder is a magical thing on a kayak as huge as ours. It is directed with the rear footholds, so Steph practiced turning us in different directions. With the help of the rudder, and our improved paddling technique thanks to a paddling video from REI.com, we streaked through the water effortlessly, straight in whatever direction we wanted to go in. It was fantastic. All of our stress and frustration from our previous trip instantly dissipated, and we marveled in how fast we were able to move through the water. I reached down and stroked the cool and glassy complexion of the water, inhaling the saltwater breeze deeply, and filling my lungs with the pure air i've become addicted to.





We paddled on, spotting a curious Sea Lion eyeing us from a few yards away. A gold hue settling on the mountains of Douglas caught my eye, and realizing that the sun was setting, we paddled furiously to the other side of the island that was blocking our view of open water and the setting sun. We rounded an outcropping of barnacled rocks and saw, stretched out before us, a glittering, orange and silver soup that was the water, and on the far edge, a silent explosion of color and light.

Spawn 'til you die

The salmon have been spawning for a couple weeks now, and here are some action shots!





It is illegal to fish or disturb spawning salmon, so they are left in peace with the exception on hungry bears/eagles/other birds and wildlife!


When they spawn, the salmon become very territorial, and splash and push each other around really aggressively to protect the area where their mates are laying eggs.










A look of horror! Haha




Pretty icky and strange to see dead fish everywhere..




These are Sockeye salmon by the Glacier. We went to see if any bears were around but found none.


Still pretty though!