Please don’t make the mistake by saying that Petersburg is in the non-real Alaska, because it will upset people. This is South East Alaska, and the real Alaska is called the Interior, just that you know. And if you still don’t believe it, you just have to look down. Here we don’t wear California flip-flops, here we wear brown rubber boots. This is Alaska.
Another difference is that instead of living with the sun as I did in southern California, the locals live with the tide. And several tide tables are laying around in everybody’s house. Big tide differences are bad for Halibut fishing, kayaking against the tide is not recommended, you wane camp above the night high tide line, putting your boat on the grid to be able to work on it needs a high tide and parking your skiff high up the shore when you wane leave with low tide gives a steep learning curve (sorry, but is was funny).
I can stay in the house of my friend, but when it becomes too crowded I move for a couple nights to a boat in the harbor. While a lot of the villages here are living from tourism (Juneau (population 30.000) can accommodate 7 cruise ships with each 600 to 2000 people on board), Petersburg is a real fishing town and the harbor is mainly filled with fishing boats. The herring season is on its way, and I get excited. I love raw pickled herring with onions, but my excitement get cracked down fast. Herring is mainly used as bait for bigger fish or to fulfill the Japanese market with herring eggs.
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Compared to the East side of the Sierra Nevada, this land is rough and robust. The fragile East side has many building regulations and for everything permits are needed. Here the wet climate and the low population density makes the impact of humans a lot less and no building regulation exist at all. And so people build the most amazing little cabins for themselves far away from everything. After an afternoon of cragging, there is nothing better then to sit in front of a self built cabin with a glass of wine and some good company.
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Its weekend and with the sun above our head, the 8 of us set out for an overnight kayak trip. The water is calm, and I keep forgetting that I am actually on the ocean instead of a lake. But the seals who pop up now and then to check on us, do remind me that this is salty water. The area we are going to will be totally dry during low tide, and it’s a good skill to keep track on the time.
The plan is to stay at a cabin on a little island, but as we arrive its clear that the cabin is already occupied. The island itself is covered with a dense rain forest and the only option we have is to camp out on the dry flats in front of the island, just above the tide line. With the good weather we have, this is for sure the better option anyway. We kayak, walk around, have some good food, a camp fire and enough stories to keep us awake to see all the stars in the sky.
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The wild life is abundant, with bald eagles soaring around us, we see bear foot prints in the mud, a moose walks by and many birds are flying around us. This country does not belong to us humans, it’s the land of her, mother nature.
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The weather keeps being amazing, which is totally not common here, and the last day we spend working in the garden. To extend the growing season with 2 months, the vegetable gardens are raised 30 cm above the ground, to heat up the soil a little bit more. So we make a new bed, mix seaweed through the soil, plant some peas and make a kitchen table while we are in the get things done mode.
In the evening we are sitting satisfied on our new table eating pizza when the phone rings; If we like to taste some fresh king salmon. It takes a couple seconds and off we are. I am not sure if this is actaully my first fresh salmon ever, but its for sure one to remember for ever. With the sun setting over the Wrangell narrows, a fresh salmon, a beer and a group of people who I all started to love, life simply doesn’t get better then this. Thank you all so much guys.
Dag,
Iris (Petersburg, 3985 miles)
