The big dipper
I don’t know much about astrology, I don’t know many constellations, but like every Alaskan I could always find the big dipper. When it’s your state flag your kinda obligated. In fact because of the star watching conditions in AK , I learned to find it very quickly. You see in Alaska star gazing can be a wee bit tricky. First of all, in the summer the extremely long days tend to make the stars professional hide and seekers, unless you like to stay up way past midnight. In fact other than camping trips or overnight boat trips, I don’t recall hardly ever seeing the stars from may to August. Then about September the stars really start popping fom the AK sky. Unfortunately it comes with a price, your body heat. And it continually worsens throughout the year, which is unfortunate because it always appeared to me that the colder it was the brighter the stars were. It seemed as though the stars themselves developed a layer of hoarfrost on them causing them to sparkle more majestically. But it was a rare, a very rare occasion that I could stand to be outside soaking in their glorious praise of God’s creation before my nose froze shut.
So to truly enjoy them I had to stay up late or freeze. Instead I would take quick glances, find the big dipper and revel in the fact that it was always there as dependable as the sunrise. Familiar,comforting and belonging to Alaska
That all changed when we moved to Costa Rica. Now I can look at the stars every night. Now I don’t freeze and now it gets dark every day all year long around 6 pm. Now star gazing is almost a daily event. Except that there is one big hole for me, the Big Dipper. As hard as I try I cannot find it. It seems to me all the stars are there, but they are more cluttered and shine a little less bright. Perhaps they are worn down from the heat of the day in Costa Rica. Whatever the reason the dipper continues to hide from me, as if it is angry that I left it behind and it is only available to,those who brave the conditions of Alaska, only they can enjoy the steady seven stars of gold.
Think I’m crazy? Well I got up this morning at 3:00 am to load my car up for a trip to Alaska, and as I finished I looked up slightly to the north there it was for the first time,the Big Dipper. It wasn’t as bright or majestic, but it was there, upside down and backwards, giving me just enough to let me know it approved of my pending trip. But also letting me know that as an Alaskan living in Costa Rica my world would be upside down and backwards, like it has been. But I know if I can just catch a glimpse of the dipper very so often, like a favorite wall hanging, it will help ground me in the place we now call home, and I won’t have to worry about my nose freezing shut.
A species related but a breed apart
Being from Alaska and commercial fishing for a good portion of my life I saw a breed of man uncommon to the populated world. Men in search of adventure, the outdoors, fortunes and solitude. They would leave their home town, point their compass north, sling a backpack over their Carhart covered shoulders and eventually arrive in Alaska, seeking to find out for themselves whether it had all to offer that they had heard. These men were hard working, adventurous, self sustaining and usually rough around the edges. Seeking jobs as a commercial fisherman, construction workers, or even digging for gold. With the advent of the PFD that changed a little as families seeking to cash in on the “free money” began migrating from all over the world. But still, the hunter, gatherer, former military breed found its way to the last frontier and they fit in well. I have met countless of these men always curious what drove them north, in awe of their stories. I could not relate for I was on of the few born and raised into the culture.
Now living here in Costa Rica, I have identified another breed of man, a species of man related to the Alaskan immigrant. They too are adventurous leaving behind school, family and friends to venture to the land of golden beaches. However I think I have detected a slight difference. These men, for the most part, can not be labeled as hard working. They are more of a free spirit, often and usually a surfer. Willing to sleep on the beach or a hovel nearby, wherever the wind blows them. They own 2 pairs of board shorts, tattered and well used, a surfboard which they take care of like a prized sports car, and a bicycle. They give surfing lessons or sell trinkets or medicinal herbs for food money. They are very slender with no extra fat, tanned to a dark black or golden brown, shaggy haired, and good surfers. Although related in the spirit of adventure, they are distant in lifestyle. And as foreign as they are to me, I am inspired by both types of men.
watching a couple of those free spirits getting ready to launch.
You see these men aren’t living in the mold of what the world thinks they should. They aren’t bound by the chains of security. They are living, chasing their dreams and doing something adventurous, much to the dismay of their parents I am sure. The older I get the more I realize that life is truly a gift from God, a gift not to be wasted. I know that often this breed of man I have described here in Costa Rica does end up wasting their life, at least by my definition, but they have to potential to do something big. They are not scared, they are not easily offended and they truly don’t care what others think. They would be great disciples, able to live on very litte, adaptable, personable and good surfers. They have a gift, although they don’t realize it, that could be honed to increase the kingdom of God, which would add value to every life.
Another couple showing off, or perhaps this is really where he sleeps.
So I find myself in a bit of a conundrum, admiring their free spirit but shaking my head at their lack of responsibility or direction. I am envious of the life experience they are gaining, but doubtful they will use it for anything positive. But mostly, I am envious of their surfing ability. So in 2012 I pray that perhaps God would use me to learn from these men, what inspired them to come here and what are their aspiritions beyond this. I am eager to hear what they have to say, and I hope it goes beyond what I “think” it should be. And although I may hit them up for some surfing tips, I think I’ll pass on the herbs.
The worst kind. I know this kid has potential.
18 Years
She was the ultimate ham, the “look at me” girl, dancing, singing, telling stories, a broadway show all in herself. Her short heavy black hair, chubby little cheeks, squeaky little voice, she was the light of every room she entered, the center of attention, and not unwanted. Cute beyond any measure of cuteness, 18 by the time she was four, making friends everywhere she went.
Daddy and Alli
Nobody told her to put her hands like that, we never had to.
One of her first best friends.
He wasn’t shy, but not outgoing. He loved to laugh and laughed hard. He would run in and out of a room, his short black hair, chubby dark cheeks and squinty eyes, never desiring to be the center of attention, but happy to be playing something, basketball, baseball, football. Unlike her he didn’t make friends instantaneously, it usually took some time. But his friends were always his friends. He was always happy, always hungry and very easy-going. They were a perfect complement to each other, Best friends, buddies and siblings.
Our earliest pictures of Dorian. He was a chunk.
Momma's boy
He loved snuggling with mommy
They were twins, if not by blood, by family. They journeyed through every phase of life together, walking, home school, Sunday school, T-ball, getting new brother’s and sisters, becoming annoyed with new brother and sisters and even High School. Although as they got older their interests may not have stayed the same, her the social butterfly making a new friend every day, dancing, drama ( a suitable fit) and any other activity she could get him to drive her to. Him, football, baseball, and eventually settling on basketball. He became a very hard studier, pushing himself far beyond average, very organized and self motivated. He made a few friends, but they were his friends, and that is all he needed. His quiet demeanor making him mysterious and popular although not to his liking. She at every dance, he at none. He studying hard for every test, her waiting for the last-minute choosing to read books instead. The results were very similar, the grades very similar, they are very different, but very similar.
she always loved the camera, and it loved her.
Dorian and Uncle Gerad
Grandpa reading to Dorian in Kodiak. They both loved bird watching.
Beautiful from a very young age.
Two finally adjusted kids, the oldest of this family of 8, the leaders, the ones who had to suffer through our blunders as parents, our impatience, often taken for granted as new babies came. They became our rocks. The ones we counted on to come through for us, that we leaned on, that we trusted to be Godly, wholesome people, the ones to help us with the rest of the family. And now together they turn 18. Likely this is the last year they will live with us, and they will be missed. The Bible says in God’s eyes a day is like a thousand years and life is but a twinkle of an eye. Looking back in my mind’s eye, I think I know what that means now. Because as much as I love them now, as proud as I am of what they have become and as excited as I am for where they are going, they will always live in my heart as the two-three year old gifts from God who brightened even minute of my life and the lives of those that had the pleasure to meet them.
Dorian with his first of many King Salmon.
Again, just her natural pose after a piano recital
Post dance
Best buddies forever.
Dorian and his oldest cousin Josh
Alli, Kassie, Livy after yet another dance recital.
My girls
My boys
I pray Alli and Dorian that you find joy in this life through your relationship with God and others, and that you follow the path that he leads you on. Your mom and I will always pray for you, always be here for you and are always forever thankful for all you have brought into our lives. You could never be replaced and you could not be loved more. Thank you for being awesome role models for all your younger siblings. You are awesome adults, but you will always be our oldest LITTLE boy and girl. We are confident that no matter where you go or what you do you will excel. Thank you so much for all you have brought into my life and all you will continue to bring. And if you ever decide to go into business together, Alli you be the “talent” Dorian you be the manager and I promise you will be unstoppable. .
My all time favorite Alli / Dorian picture. This is how daddy will always remember you.
200
Today I noticed that this post would be my 200th post. At first I thought 200 was not that much, but I have realized that it is actually quite a bit, especially considering that I am not writing about current events, news or anything like that, I am writing about life and our family. Our journey to a family of 10 in Alaska to a family of 9 in Costa Rica. The very first post was in September of 2008, which means it took me over 3 years to get 200 published posts. Lately I have resolved myself to adding a new post on an average of at least one a week, and I am proud to say that I am ahead of schedule this year. Perhaps relocating to Costa Rica has helped a little.
Most of the posts have been very light-hearted and fun, some however have been very dark, sad and therapeutic. Whatever the style, they all have their own pace and feel. Some have taken me days to write, others minutes, some are done in minutes but I hesitate to post them, others I have written and have never posted. But as I reflect back on the last 199 posts I have come to realize that this tiny little blog has help me connect more with God, myself, my family and friends. It has help me come to grips with some big happenings in my life, and in the live’s of those I love. It has been fun and it has been tedious at times. Sometimes I struggled to find something worthy of writing about, something anyone would even care about. And I always have to go back to why I am writing and who am I writing for. Originally it was so our family and friends could see into the lives of a big family, a special family, at least in my mind. Now we are way away from anywhere I thought we would be from my first post. It has evolved into a blog about a crazy big family that has moved from one corner of the world to another, on a whim, some would say. So for blog post 200, instead of sharing the most popular posts I thought I would share some of my personal favorite posts. The ones that affected me and others the most. They may not have been the most popular or most light-hearted, but they had something in them that just had that extra special meaning. I know everyone always enjoys new materials and new pictures, but these are all some re-posts of days gone by. As we all know, each and every post will be out there for all eternity, because as they say once you put it on the web, it will never go away. So if you are bored on a rainy/ snowy day, scroll the tags or topics on the right, or put in a keyword to see what you might find. There are over 200 to chose from!
Probably the overall most popular posts are the Christmas Letters. They are always at the top of the blog and you click there to read them. It is the year in review, and those usually take the longest for me to write, so I am glad at least someone is reading them.
The second most popular are the ones with lots of pictures. Now, as the writer of this blog this causes me a little concern. I have a feeling there are a few of you that are just looking for the latest greatest pic, and not reading a word I type. Darn the twitter generation! However, I think those are my wife’s favorite as well, so they can’t be all bad.
Without question, the posts that caused the most reaction are the ones with Jo, when we were going through our transition with her. It was one of the most difficult things we had ever dealt with as a family. I don’t know why I wrote about it like I did, but I really think it helped to put it into words and the response was very big. Not just a comment on the blog, but a full email, a phone call, a visit the reactions were amazing. These posts mostly wrote themselves in minutes and made me thankful I had this little blog to use for therapy.
These are a couple of miscellaneous ones that had pretty big hits. The real Costa Rica I could understand via google. It was from our first trip to Costa Rica and it was an eye opener for us. Awkward Conversations; I don’t know why but that one seemed to strike a note with people. Although I didn’t get a lot of comments on the blog, again I had a lot of personal reactions. The next one I did not anticipate at all. It was a simple blog on me grilling some ribs for my birthday, and I thought I would be cute with the title. Apparently, a lot of people google that song because it still gets a lot of hits to this very day. Who knew?
I have a BBQ stain on my white T-shirt
So there you have it, Post 200 is now in the books, or on the web for all eternity. If you have time you can click-through to some of the above listed posts to see the variety of activity that we have encountered throughout the last 3 years. However, I will warn you that the middle section can be a little heavy, and it still affects me to this very day. I like to think that I have another 200 posts in me, and with our recent relocation I hope that will give me interesting fodder for the next few years. Stay tuned, and thank you so much for reading, and I really thank you for the comments and kind words. Glenn
23 Totes
Stuff, stuff and more stuff. We all have stuff, lots of it. I knew we had a lot of stuff because with each move we added several thousand pounds, according to the moving company, and although much of it was on my waistline, the vast majority was just stuff. Now the older we get and the more kids we get the more stuff we add. The question is, how much of it is necessary? I have heard Pastor Brown deliver several messages over the years regarding people and their stuff. In fact just recently he had a great message on joy vs. happiness and used stuff as an example of temporary happiness, but it does not often bring you joy.
I find great irony in stuff. You see I remember when Tra and I were moving back home after college. We had no money, no jobs, a prospect or two and very little stuff. But that stuff was very very important to us. In fact it was so important that we borrowed $3000 from my Grandpa to buy an 18 foot dual axle trailer so that we could haul our stuff up to Alaska. We then built plywood walls 8 feet tall so that we could pile stuff high. Now, as I sit and type this there are only three items that I remember being in that trailer, a washer and dryer of the utmost cheapest variety that we had recently purchased, and a small table made from wafer board. Neither item we would need for years, neither item irreplacable, neither item that important. But at the time that was our stuff, it was all we had and it had enough value to us that we hauled it nearly 4000 miles through blizzards, mountains, wrecks, and Canada. I guarantee you it cost us more to haul or stuff than to replace it. I quickly found out the most valuable thing we brought with us from Missouri; the trailer.
Now the tides have turned. Over the last 20 plus years we have been blessed to have some decent stuff. Stuff it took us years to accumulate. Just one or two pieces of our stuff now is way more valuable, monetarily wise, than our stuff back then. It also has a lot more sentimental value; as pieces of stuff was acquired at significant moments in our live, moments that often involved kids.
But now that we have to pay around $5 a pound to ship it, it quickly loses its importance. In fact, that is a great way to see what stuff really means anything to you at all. Ask yourself, ” would I (more…)
Road Trips
Every once in a while a man has to get out of dodge and take road trip. In college a road trip consisted of; scraping up some gas money, spending most of it on snacks ( pickled red-hot sausage for me please), a car full of screaming teenage boys, very loud 80s music in the cassette, excessive speeding and not planning ahead for the trip home. They were spontaneous, reckless and usually fun fraught with a touch of danger and self-induced issues.
road trip scenes
Cook Inlet Turnagain Arm
Tern Lake
Now our road trips are just a touch different; Get through all the days appointments, PLAN for two days, pack for you the kids and for every contingency under the winter sun, take care of the dog, take care of the cars and leave about 2 hours later than planned, with no pickled red-hot sausage for dad because a 40-year-old gut can’t handle it. But probably the biggest difference is the purpose. In college, the purpose was not usually well-defined and sometimes not well intended. Now there is a purpose. Perhaps for a shopping trip, a family visit, or just some family time.
This past weekend we went out on one of our road trips to attend a family function. When my family has a function it is usually not an intimate thing. This time it was to congratulate my brother on graduating from law school and to celebrate my grandmother’s 81 (0r 82) birthday. After four years of working a full-time job and taking classes my brother was finally able to graduate with his law degree and take his bar exam, all while getting fantastic grades. We are very proud of him, and we just hope he doesn’t bill us when we call him, because he can be a little long-winded at times and we don’t have that kind of money.
A small portion of the gathering, Dorian, Jeremy, Jennifer, Brad and Wyatt
Brad " is that one of my kids crying or one of the 30 other kids?"
Just one of the kid's tables
These ones couldn't find a table
Grandma, well she keeps plugging along. She is the type of grandma that acts about 1/3 her age. My kids love being around her because she is so much fun, In fact Ben just did a road with her to Homer and he said he was laughing the whole time; it was his best road trip ever. So maybe she acts more like a 1/7 her age. Whatever it is I have learned that the older you get the younger you act the younger you will feel.
The adults beginning to gather after the cow bell for dinner was rung.
Olivia, Alli, Dorian, Tim and a whole slug of other eaters
Gerad about 1/2 hour into his thank you speech, with Deb and Grandma looking on.
The event itself was just that, lots of puroke, potato salad, turkey and desserts; new family members introduced, stories were shared, relationships rekindled, people were honored, and all were fed well. It was awesome. There were approximately 57 people in attendance. I could not give an exact number because approximately 30 of those people were under the age of 14 and they didn’t stand still long enough to be counted. We ended up having a grand time seeing family members we had not seen in years, and some new ones we had never seen. Unfortunately we were unable to stay as long as we would’ve liked, perhaps next time I will skip that pickled red-hot sausage on the drive over.
A week of a lifetime in one post.
I realize that my blog posts have not been coming as fast and furious as in the past. This has been one of the busiest periods of my life. I feel as if I have some things to write about, but I am also trying to keep things in order, and my time in perspective. I want to thank those of you who take the time to comment and say such nice things. So without further adieu, I am going to wrap up the end of our summer guests in this post, even though I could probably break it down into another 3-4 blogs.
As I have said in the past, when family comes to visit it gives us an excuse to act like tourists, so act like tourists we must, and we did. One of the first things we did was to hike up to Russian River Falls. Our main goal was to see some bears, and I figured this was as good a place as any. We didn’t see any bears, but we did see a Bri, and she walked all the way the falls, 2 miles each way, in Crocs with no socks. Oh did I mention she was pregnant? That is more rare than a bear in my mind, and worth the trip. Their only complaint, not enough potties along the way. I didn’t have a problem, but apparently they are used to having privacy. Which, as we all now, is a difficult proposition on the Kenai in July. It was an exhilarating hike, especially on the way back as there was a noticeable pep-in-the-step of those looking for the outhouse at the trailhead.
Tina near the end of the hike and near the end of her life?
Help, I've fallen and I can't get up!
I told you that they really had to go. I don't know who did it but...........
......... I don't know what aunt Bev is doing here.
Because of the lack of bears, we had to take a dangerous white water rapids trip down the Kenai River. Now when I say whitewater rapids I mean we saw one small patch of white water, and it almost splashed on me! I like to live on the edge. It was a lazy, cold trip down the Kenai, a good way to take a nap. And yes, we saw a bear. It was one of the Russian River Bears tearing into a salmon, so hopefully that made the trip worthwhile. They did have some good sausage and cheese prior to departing, so that was something! I don’t think it was quite as exciting as they expected, especially after they geared us up into 25 pounds of safety gear.
Livy and Alli testing out some prom outfits, if daddy got to choose that is!
Looks like we are all ready to get in the yellow submarine.
Not sure if I want to be on the raft that this crew is running.
notice, only one cool cat is wearing camo, and sun glasses, and a sweet ball cap ( I didn't want anyone to know that I was taking a paid rafting trip down the kenai!) Note the extreme amount of patches on the port bow of our raft, hmmmmmmm.
Money shot! No, that's not Shyla.
Unfortunately I had to work a few days, so the family had to do a few trips without me. They took a trip to Seward and to Girdwood, and spent some time in Anchorage, shopping. Which, shock of all shocks, was their favorite part of the trip.
So during their time up here in the last frontier, they got to experience pretty much all of the Kenai Peninsula. It was fun to have the real housewives of Moberly here for a visit. They put a twinkle in Tra’s eyes and made us stop on smell the rotten salmon carcasses. I find it is easy to forget how awesome of a place we live in; and the best way to get that feeling back is to see it through the eyes of someone who is appreciating it for the first time. Much like helping someone to catch their first salmon or halibut, there is great joy in that.
Jo n Kassie checking out the dippers on the Kenai River
the gratuitous fireweed shot. The bee adds a special something.
Only Austin would wade 50 feet away from a melting glacier, and smile.
Glenn said if you drink a gallon of it, you will look like Angeline Jolie.
Exit Glacier in Seward
It's receding faster than my hairline.
glacial hike
Mom, I think we found something for dinner! Alaska Wildberry in Anchorage.
Sorry baby, but this one is going to have to sleep with us.
I didn't have the heart to tell her that the bear is a breeding ground for lice from foreign tourists.
So now we are back to reality, back to the grind, back to work, back to the rain and early mornings, back to school, back to the cycle of life on the Kenai Peninsula. Excited for what is ahead and what God has in store for us. I have a funny feeling the next time family visits us, the backgrounds will look a lot different.
Briana, Lana, Aunt Bev and Tina ( Austin is probably fishing or swimming in the Kenai River) You are all welcome to our house anytime. Thanks for the laughs and the memories.
Austin’s fish follies
Certainly catching a pollock would be the highlight of any trip,none-the-less I felt some more fishing was in order. So the boys and I did some old-fashioned dip netting, and brought Austin along for the ride, little did we know.
It just so happened we went on a day when the fish were literally pouring into the river. In fact, I think it was the best dipping I have ever seen. The problem with good dipnetting is that it is extremely addictive and very hard to stop, especially when the fishing is good.
Heading out after the "not so elusive" red salmon
Now the way the personal use / dipnet fishery works is that you get 25 fish for the head of the household and then 10 fish per each household member. So if you do the math, that means I am allowed 105 fish on my permit. You can bet that makes me a popular person to bring on your boat when you go dipnetting. Normally it is kind of hard to go over limit with me around. In fact, not only do I not want my limit, the closest I ever got was 92 reds. That was way too many.
We found the "not so elusive" red salmon
However the summer of 2010 turned out to eclipse that. In fact, it was a virtual fish blood path, a feeding frenzy of fish, a plethora of pescado, a lot of fish. If you were on the boat or even near the boat you got bathed in fish blood and guts. I know it sounds disgusting, but it was very manly for those of us to experience it. Although I only kept about half, the cleaning, smoking and prepping still took some time. In the end, as always, it was worth it.
The aftermath and premath of a night of cleaning for me.
We managed to get a few more fishing trips in for Austin. We spent an afternoon chasing red salmon, and he caught on quickly. He landed three red salmon all by himself with a fly rod, a not so easy task, as those who have tried knows. One of them he managed to hook legally and we kept that one for him to bring home.
Trying for some kings on Ninilchik
Dorian and Austin working it for the reds the old-fashioned way
Fish On!
Fish UP!
Fish Landed!
Any excuse to go fishing is welcomed, but I find that my absolute favorite times to fish are those times when I get to take a kid or an out-of- stater that has never caught a fish up here. For some reason I get more joy seeing them hook up a salmon, or halibut, or any species of prized pesces. Of course, like I said before, any excuse to go fishing.
Don't even think about it Austin! That eagle had the fish first.
Day one of visitor fun
Summer time in Alaska may not bring warm air, but it quite often brings warm houses, in the form of extra bodies and house guests. Even a house already full of bodies, such as ours, is no exception. Much like the salmon migrating upstream, the lower 48 relatives migrate north to Alaska; not that we mind. In fact we enjoy it thoroughly and it gives us an excuse to act like a tourist, which I am not too good at doing. This year it was Tracy’s Aunts, well actually only one of them was her real aunt but all familial ladies who don’t have a formal title are addressed as aunt. The others were her cousins, one of their 16-year-old son’s, and a new friend, her real aunt’s daughter-in-law. They were a hoot.
Meet the Gang, Breana (sp?) Lana, Tracy, Tina and Bev
Scenes from the Homer pullout
Jo enjoying the scenery, and yes this is proof we had at least one sunny day this summer
The first thing you need to know about Tracy is that she is from Missouri. When I met her, she a twang about her. I can’t explain it, I can’t duplicate it, but I can certainly hear it. I brought her all the way up to Alaska to break her of her twang. However the twang isn’t permanently gone, it comes and goes. When she is on the phone with her mom for more than 5 minutes, it is twang city. So imagine what happens when 5 of her family members show up for a visit for 10 days: Twang Town. As she would say ” it was a goin”. It was especially goin every night when they all gathered in the living room after the day’s activities. Five Missouri twangers, laughing, sharing, and twanging. In its own way, it was endearing, but not enough to keep me from going to bed.
Picnic on the Spit. Corn dogs are the perfect picnic food.
Dorian convincing the ladies that this is the prized catch in Alaska, and that they should fillet it up and bring it home.
Dorian and Austin working the water for anything that will bite.
Austin and his first Alaskan trophy!
Now when people come to visit, we always want to share the “real” Alaska with them. We want to take them off the tourist routes and to places that they can see things that most visitors will not. So the first thing we did was what every local Soldotanian likes to do in July, get the heck out of here. So we drove south to Homer. It turned out to be one of the truly nice days we had all summer.
Jo doing something somewhere in Homer
Notice any resemblance?
I wanted to make sure Austin got to experience true Alaskan fishing, so I figured we would catch something on the spit and it did not disappoint. Although we were mostly skunked, Austin managed to get himself a pollock, or trash not worthy of bait, as we would call it. But hey, he caught a fish.
Tina working it on the beach
Tina at it again. Don't know if she is using this bulb kelp as a microphone, or eating it. Either way it probably went home with her in her suitcase.
For some reason, I think they would fit in perfect in Kasilof.
Of course there was shopping, dock walking, bird watching and all the things one does in Homer. But who knew that the highlight of the day, at least for young Austin was the McKinley Mac. Yep, the one and only McKinley Mac found only at your local Alaskan McDonald’s. It would be a highly sought after prize for the remainder of their trip, and since I am not a tourist, I have never had one. Better put that on my bucket list!
Mizzou representing on the spit!
to be continued:
As the rain falls, a hero emerges
If you love to get out in the wild, get some piece and quiet, away from the hustle and bustle and get back in touch with the nature, then don’t come camping with us. If you want to eat a lot of food, have fresh coffee every morning, enjoy the rain and the noise of kids running wild, and still have access to the internet, then you want to camp with us.
hopefully Amber and Glenn get this done before bed time.
not very good hiders
my ladies on the bridge
Alli and Jo, on a rock DOWN BY THE RIVER!
Every year we try to get out and rough it at least once a summer. We find a nice cozy campground with water and a bathroom, a latte stand within driving distance, cell signal and preferably a river or lake nearby, and then head out for a night or two of miserable sleep, lots of bug, wet clothes and great company. This year it was us, the Daniels, the Davis’s and some Katzenbergers. So by my math that is 7 adults and 18 kids, or what you may call sheer paradise.
Fishing women
That hole has no fish left, just a hunch
Momma and Jo
Jason in the wilderness, just him and his iphone.
One thing you must know about camping with us, expect rain. Don’t think “it might rain” don’t be fooled by cloudless 70 degree days, don’t even bother looking at the weather, it will rain. If we camped in the middle of the Sahara Desert during the dry season, it would rain. When the Godfrey’s camp, it rains. As long as it is warm, we deal with it. By warm I mean above 50 degrees during the daylight hours.
Did you hear something?
maybe it was a fish
I like your boots Jake
Modeling for momma, cuz she made us
One huge advantage to camping with us is that you don’t usually have to worry about bears. You see the trick is to let all the kids out to run wild all over the campground, screaming, running, throwing things, screaming, crying, screaming and not only would any bear in its right mind stay as far away as possible, so do all other campers. Hence, we usually have the campgrounds to ourself.
Do you think we should be helping them set up the tent?
kids, fire, food, danger?
this crew cooked breakfast all day long
Not cooking, just warming my head.
Jeremy's catch, just a little late for dinner
a little fireside entertainment provided by Jace, hopefully it wasn't the Beastie Boys
During this camping trip I found a true hero. Now hero is a word that is thrown around loosely, but here I witnessed a true one. I believe we established that is going to rain, so I came prepared. This time I brought a tarp, not any tarp, a tarp that could serve as a runway in small village. The only people motivated enough to use the tarp were me and Ryan, so we got to work. As the rain fell we came with a master plan to cover the whole camp with the tarp. Things were going smoothly, the running lines were holding, the trees were well placed, the architectural plan was sound and we just needed everyone to get involved for one final pull to cover the rest of the camp. Unfortunately there was a minor flaw. You see, we already had the fire going. In fact, when we started putting the tarp up, Angie, Tra, Amber and the kids were cooking smores and enjoying the show.
So technically she's not eating in the background, but she is about to, and that's a big bag o chips.
you can't camp without some twister
Scary story time. Skip the story, just look at these faces...
...or these faces
but especially these faces in the light! Yikes!
Fortunately, the kids were excited to play with the earth darkening tarp, and dropped their marshmallow sticks and grabbed hold. Shoot, even Jason and Tra grabbed a corner. This is where it went all wrong. Our plan was to have a lean-to style covering to allow the smoke to escape. But instead, as everyone began to pull, we ended with more of like a giant teepee, with Ryan holding it up where the hole should be. Within seconds we realized this was not a good plan. Immediately we lost our sight due to the density of the smoke, seconds later we could not breathe. I tried to scream for the kids to let go, but I could barely breathe. Then Ryan, standing on a picnic table, holding up the center of the tarp screamed ” EVERYONE OUT” ! As he stayed firm holding up the tarp buried in deadly smoke, allowing all others to escape. This was paramount to shouting “SAVE YOURSELF!!!!!” The words of a true hero. As I ran out, to grab the edge of the tarp mind you, I saw out of the corner of my eye that Angie was still standing by the fire, marshmallow stick in her left hand, finishing the last bite of smore not looking a bit concerned. I would put a picture of this, but she has threatened to kill me if I post one more picture of her eating. Everyone else was coughing, scattering and screaming…. with laughter. Finally I was able to move the tarp, hoping beyond hope that Ryan was still alive, for my CPR had expired a year ago, and to my great relief he emerged, my new hero, with an ashen covered face. He had sacrificed himself for the good of the camp.
from amongst the ashes a hero emerges
the backside of the finished product
the front side of the finished design
enjoying the fruits of our labor and near death experience
Needless to say, we did not give up and eventually the tarp did rise, with a new architectural plan. And much like the tarp, a new hero emerged in my eyes. As I sat chilled, near the crisp fire under the tarp listening to the rain mercilessly beating down, I reflected on what another great camping adventure we had just experienced, then I pulled out my iphone, went to craigslist and started pricing travel trailers.
amp time
Every time she comes over I can pretty much predict the order of the day, a lovely conversation on the drive home, a mobbing from everyone as she walks in the door, long snuggles with mom, dress up, coloring, play dough, creative activites and then at some point the question, “daddy you want play on the ampoline with me? ” It is her routine, and it is very hard for daddy to resist some ampoline “amp” time.
this may hurt a little
Jake's version of break dancing
Kassie moving so fast she looks elongated
the belle of the ball
In fact the trampoline somewhat signifies our relationship with Jo over the past four years. It started out so fun with some ups and downs, but we just kept bouncing. There were a lot of twist and turns, some tumbles, some huge up moments and the downs only went so far before we bounced back. But eventually, especially for us older folks, we became exhausted and then just lay there as everyone else jumps. And that’s where we are now, just laying on the trampoline and letting everyone else and everything else just move around us. I don’t know if you would call it giving up, because we are still on the trampoline, but we are just not jumping up and down as much. We are there, laying and we are waiting, waiting on the Lord and perhaps that where we should have been all along.
The belle in a not so graceful moment
Umm daddy, I don't think the trampoline is supposed to go down that far
the old man still got some moves! I hope my insurance co. doesn't read this
Ben catching some air
not sure how Kassie ended this one
So whenever we are so blessed to have a visit from Jo, and when the inevitable questions comes, she knows that I will not say no. What she doesn’t know is that eventually I will tire, and lay on the trampoline, reflecting on what else I can do to make it so she never has to leave again. And time and time again my answer is to wait and trust that the springs have enough uumph to get us up once again. And eventually, hopefully soon, every day she’ll be able to ask me if I am available for some amp time.
the "amp" crew
The wild beasts of Fuller Lakes
Imagine the rare 75 degree Alaska day; you have a day off from work and decide to hike 3 miles away from civilization, to a lake teeming with rainbows and dolly varden. You arrive, dripping sweat from the steep hike, but alone with a slight breeze and the sun beaming down on the lake. There are small pockets of snow, a welcome anomaly, you grab a handful and rub it on the back of your neck to cool down. Then you notice the fish are feeding, and whip out your fly rod and begin casting. The slight breeze helps you place the tiny mosquito fly you tied yourself in near perfect position, as you get a strike on your first cast. You haven’t even taken your backpack off your back, but the quiet solitude, the sheep on the mountain, the only sounds of the water cascading from the beaver dam and your fly line whipping in the wind are perfection. You can’t imagine a better day or a better way to spend Memorial Day.
Fresh at the start of Fuller Lakes Trail
Jace and Jeremy taking a breather
Who looks the most tired in this group?
Then you hear it ” The last one up is a stinky fish head!” ” hey quit pushing me!” ” I can’t wait to jump in!” “Get outta my wayyyyyy!!!” That would be us, the Godfrey Daniels crew, a party of 17 entering into your perfect wilderness setting. The last place you would expect to see 13 kids from 5-16 dragging four adults up the side of a mountain. I know you go up there to get away from the hustle and bustle, to spend time in nature and enjoy the quiet and solitude, but so did we. Our strategy is different though. You see we hike the mountain to burn the kids out so when we go home and eat dinner, they go to bed. Then, and only then can we enjoy our quiet and solitude. Instead of a fly rod we will likely have a remote control in our hand, but the effect will be the same.
You can see the very happy fisherman if the background
Arrival of the truly wild beasts of the wilderness
No wonder I could keep up with Ben, he only had one shoe on!
Thinking about the kids being in bed by 9
So we apologize to you Mr. fisherman hiker, but we do not regret that Memorial Day Trek. That hike created some more life long memories, but most importantly, it got the kids quietly in bed by 9 pm on warm summer school-less day; and because of that, I predict there will be many more hikes to come this summer. In fact, if you are planning to scale Mt. McKinley this year, don’t be surprised if you hear ” the last one up is a stinky dog toot”, and turn your head just in time to see a party of 17 on your heels.
They had no idea I was even taking a picture
Jason and Angie with Skilak lake in the background
Fish watching
sheep watching
Olivias
Gangstas of Fuller Lake
"Um, I wasn't playing in the water."
"I'm not playing in the water!"
A parting shot of Skilak
Success! Now only 6 more to go!
Mickey D’s and Mother’s Day
I had a great mother’s day. I know, I know, who cares how my Mother’s Day was, how was Tracy’s? Well that is the point, for me to have a good Mother’s Day, Tra has to have a great Mother’s Day. I think she did.
The day started with great service in church, and Tra leading the morning worship, which I thought was pretty great. Then again I may have some biases, but I think even Simon Cowell would agree with me. After church we ran home, well we actually drove home as it is about 15 miles away, and changed for lunch. Changed for lunch? You ask. Yes Change. I know we have our Sunday best on, but that is far too dressy for this fishing town. Further, our lunch was coming via a drive thru, and I don’t want anyone spilling ketchup or special sauce on their Sunday best.
Present Time!
Dude how do we end up here every year?
I don't know, but this is what Mother's Day is all about
So after changing we headed out the door to McDonald’s, and I must admit I was shocked to see it wasn’t packed. I mean it was Mother’s Day, people should be taking their mom’s out to chow, and let em pig out a little. I can’t think of anywhere better to pig out the McDonald’s. I guess we are just an exceptional family.
Jo and Amber with her 5th cup of coffee
Peyton chilling at mom's feet
I hope this is not one of my boys
Yes we did go to McDonald’s, but the reason is that we have developed a tradition over the last few years for Mother’s Day, and McDonald’s is a key part of that tradition. Once we get through the drive thru, which is no small feat when you are ordering for 10, then we head south to Homer.
For the last three Mother’s Day we have driven to Homer to spend the day after church. We shop, play on the windiest beach in America, go to the park, and eat, after Mickey D’s wears off.
I smell trouble
Throughout the day you rarely see mom without her camera. I don’t know how we survived before digital cameras. I would have to budget 1/3 of our income just to buy and process film. I truly think her favorite part of the trip is to take pictures all day long. So we let her snap away, posing as she wishes, and gritting our teeth to keep them from chattering.
Mom and Jo
Mom and Jake
Ben with his slave
monkey boy
Finally, when we get to my favorite part, the food, we actually eat at a sit down restaurant, with tablecloths, silverware and waiters. This year we went with a whole bunch of friends, so we were a party of 22, and man our waitress at Fat Olives was very excited to see us. I mean she yelled the whole time we were there. Stuff like ” that’s impossible”, “We absolutely cannot do that”, ” We don’t do separate checks” for a minute I thought she was going to take Angie out, but Amber had her back. She was great, and made for fun conversation! I’m guessing she was a mom and her family didn’t take her to McDonald’s.
Ben's present, and he paid for it all himself
Jo beaching it
Sisters
Kassie the kollector
I can't say who the old guy on the swing is
But even with our cheery, loud, New York accented, negative waitress, we still managed to have a great time. But what made the day best for Mother Tracy was that Jo got to go with us. And not just for Mother’s Day, but the whole weekend! You can’t get a gift better than that, unless you count the “clunky” jewelry the kids picked out for her. So my advice to you husbands and sons out there, if you want to have a great Mother’s Day, start it with some McDonald’s to go, there is never a wait on Mother’s Day.
Angie and her brood
8/10 of Tra and Glenn Make 10
Thanks a Latte
Having traveled a bit recently, I have come to realize that there are many advantages to living in Alaska. However, none has become more apparent than coffee. Yes, I know you can get coffee anywhere, but you can’t get coffee like we have coffee. You see here in Alaska we do our coffee by drive-by. If you are new or just visiting , you will see this skinny storage sheds with windows on both sides all along side our most traveled roads. These are not storage sheds, they are our local bean pushers. When it is 20 below zero, you really don’t want to get out of your car unless you have to, and for coffee, we don’t have to. On my drive into work, I pass at least 8 of them, and we are in a very small town of about 8,000. Yet there is almost always a car at the window getting its daily fix, or in some cases getting its third or fourth fix for the day.
Hooked on the Bean beaconing for me to pull up and get a fix
If you are like we are, you build a relationship with your coffee girl. For some reason the baristas are pretty much all girls. You can pull up and she will already be making your drink, straws no straws, mints or no mints, 12, 16, or 20 ounce, two or four shots, whatever you get they will have it hot and ready, getting you out of the window as fast as possible. McDonald’s could learn a thing or two from these little ladies.
The coffee huts even have their own currency in the form of unique punch cards, so you don’t need cash every time. How considerate of them. You just hand them the money card, they punch it and pass it back. I wonder if this makes them sovereign? And if you work really hard, and buy lots of coffees, every 12th coffee you get a free one! That right there brings your cost per cup way down.
The Arctic Fox, my favorite stop on the way to church, to Kenai, or whenever I get in my car
But probably my favorite thing is the corniest thing, suprising eh? It is the names of these shacks. Let me share a few, Hooked on the Bean, Cool Beanz, Thanks a Latte, Java Junction, Hot Shots, Coffee Cats, Espresso Yourself, Jitters, Mocha Mutt, Motor Mocha, and they go on, a never-ending puns of bean bliss. So corny they are beautiful, much like pop art.
So until I drive by a small hut in Florida called “Manatee Mocha” I will always be ready to get back home and get a 20 ounce sugar free, white chocolate, americano. Wait a second…. I have a full punch card; a free one is coming! Coffee on me tomorrow! At least the first cup.
The fruits of my labor, the "free" cup of bliss.
Holiday Roads
Traveling is always a chore with a large family. Shoot, it takes us 25 minutes to figure out how we are getting to church every Sunday, and we go every Sunday! Are we taking the van or two cars? Do you need to be there early? Do we have any extra kids? Who is riding with dad? Are you getting a coffee? No, you can’t all ride with mom! No you can’t all go in later! Where are we going to eat? Where did all these extra kids come from?
Now imagine trying to take a vacation. Just finding 10 seats is daunting, but then try and use your handy-dandy super simple companion fare in combination with you Alaska Airlines miles and find the cheapest fare. This always leads to a conversation with a ticket agent ( yes they still exist, near extinction, but those still alive have managed to maintain the skills their ancestors have passed down to them)explaining my fate and frustration of attempting to bring it all together. The result is always at least two separate flights. Two long separate flights arriving several hours apart, and arriving late, always.
Traveling is definitely a chore for a family our size, but it is almost always worth it. Our last family trip was to Orlando, and the end result was great, even though it did involve two travel teams changing planes twice each way and going through different cities and arriving at different times. I think it must be somewhat like childbirth. You forget the crying, the vomiting ( in the aisle of the plane), the nasty smells ( usually sitting by the bathroom) and the kicking and screaming in desire of breaking free from captivity, and then you have worry about the kids too. But alas, all that goes away as soon as you lay your head on the lounge chair by the pool.
I write this as we get ready to head to Anchorage for Thanksgiving, our yearly tradition. The kids love staying with Nana, going to the shootout, shopping, hitting up old Charles E. Fromage, and maybe even making an appearance at H2Oasis, a great place for a hairy old overweight man like myself to hang out. Alas, I have to keep this short because we are getting ready to leave and I need to open an Excel spreadsheet to figure out who is going to ride with who and who gets to bring what laptop, and who gets to sit in what seat, and where we will stop and potty, and where Tracy will want to stop and take some pictures…… oops we were suppose to leave an hour ago.
Have a great Thanksgiving weekend, and don’t forget to whom you are thankful.
Hay, Hay we’re the Monkee’s
Have you ever felt like you were lost, going in circles, unable to figure out where you should go next, then looking to heaven for guidance? Well I have, literally a couple of weeks ago. You see, apparently a yearly tradition around here is the hay maze at the Solid Rock Bible Camp. Now we had never heard of the hay maze, but it sounded like great fun. I envisioned a giant maze six feet high, dead ends, running aimlessly looking for exits, laughing, frolicking and all that great stuff. Well it wasn’t quite like that. You see the hay maze was definitely a maze, but instead of six feet high it was about 20 inches high in most of the maze.
bravely waiting our turn to enter the amazing maze of no return
once you enter the red barn you may never leave
Now if you have never been in a maze of hay that is 20 inches high, there are a couple things to think about. Hay absorbs sound like a Shamwow sucks up soda. So your screams for help, well all they do is get you more freaked out and make you short of breath. Bricks of hay block out light, all light, and believe me when I say lighters are not an option. When you only have 20 inches to work with, you cannot use your knees, especially if you are full-grown, or over grown as in my case. So the military slide is a necessity, and doing the military slide over hay, well let’s just say hay will find its way in every area of your body, and I mean everywhere, especially when it is hanging over head. So if hay absorbS sounds like a Shamwow, then it absorbs air like a Super Shamwow mop with a mega twist handle for only 3 payments of $9.99. There is not a lot of air to breath in the hay maze, and I am not even claustrophobic; Tracy is. So I must admit that I was extremely proud of her when she conquered her fears and entered the maze, after much self deliberation and an external internal conversation.
Following dad into the maze, what brave smiles.
the bridge is the only place you can stand straight up and see any natural light
Once inside there really is no turning around, there is one way and that way is unclear. Luckily for us we all had flashlights and me, with a Game Warden’s keen sense of direction. Now prior to entering the maze I was given a hot tip, “look up”. Hmmm, I can’t even turn my bloody head, how am I gonna look up? I thought to myself as I came to the first crossroads. Right or left, right it was, with Jake, Ben, Kassie and my gasping wife in tow. “Worry not” I yelled, to myself as they could not hear me. “Hmmmm, this looks familiar.” And I realized we had just done our first full circle, all the sudden I felt a little short of breath, worried not for myself of course, but for those bravely laughing as if they were having fun behind me. This time I quickly took a left. I must have been going a little fast as I left everyone behind, but of course I had to scout out an escape route. Then I remembered to glance up to heaven, and out of the corner of my eye, on the edge of my L.E.D light I could make out the shape of wood, “ladder”. I quickly climbed to make sure it could hold the weight of the others, and at the top I had a little more head room, and there seemed to be more air. I was sure Tracy was far behind screaming and thrashing about, kicking over bails of hay looking for an emergency exit. To my surprise, she showed up shortly after I had helped the little ones and scolded them for excessively laughing and giggling to hide their fears and embarrassing their mother.
Jake screaming with fear... or laughing with fear... maybe just laughing
ben & kassie in the bridge area, the area of breathing I like to call it
The maze continued on like that, with bridges and areas you could stand, and more crawling, crawling so tight you had to turn sideways to get through. It even had a slide, and a fireman’s pole at the end. A pvc one where I learned that you do not want to wrap hands tightly around pvc and slide, especially if you need to have readable fingerprints.
Tra bringing up the rear and doing a fine job
waiting for mom, boy the flash sure makes a difference
All in all it was a lot of fun, for the kids. Tracy and I even did it a second time with them, just to show them how they could be brave and conquer their fears, not having to hide them behind huge smiles, giggles and words like ” this is so much fun” “this is awesome!” ” can I lead this time”. The false bravado touches a father’s heart. The best part of the hay maze, between all of picking hay out of …… areas, is that we had enough to make quite the bedding for our rabbit. Did you know hay sticks to tears?
Escaping from the jaws of the evil beast! Note Jake running full speed away.
A mountain of a trip, and a mountain of pictures
Kodiak, an Island of the southwest coast of Alaska was home to me. I will always have a fond place in my heart for “the rock” as it is known by those of us who frequent it. I know people who love it and I know people who hate it, but I don’t think I have ever heard any say “meh, it’s Okay”. Some people cannot stand the thought of the rain, remoteness and the possibility of being stranded days beyond your intended stay. I have been there. There are only two ways to Kodiak, the ferry and the air. I remember once when I was commercial fishing, waiting five days, five full days to get off that Island and go home to my wife. That was a time when I hated the rock. That was long before internet and cell phones, the days before lattes, facebook posts and twitter. So we just sat, sat , sat in the airport, me, my crew and about 200 other unwashed, stinking commercial fisherman, waiting for one day of decent, not good, just decent weather.
The view from our hosts, the Mortenson's
Mort , Sonya & Olivia, some of my favorite people.
Mom & Dad reliving some old memories at Fort Abercrombie
hanging on the old cannon at Abercrombie
old bunker at Abercrombie
The woods at Abercrombie
Ben picking salmonberries
Finally found something that quieted him up for a minute
posing in the Abercrombie woods
fences mean nothing to this family
mom & dad still reminiscing
But even that could not sour me on Kodiak. It is nearly impossible to beat Kodiak when the weather is nice; those three days are awesome! I know when we last lived there we loved it. We loved the pace of life, the beauty, the fishing and hunting, and our church. Shoot, we even got a Wal-Mart. It was a good life.
hey, I wanted a turn!
who let Jeremy drive?
Ensign?
My ladies
The newest attraction, 120 ft. blades on these bad boys. That'll keep you cool on them hot summer days.
view from the top of Pillar Mountain.
More Pillar Mt.
boyz on the Mt.
This time we were just going back for a visit. You see my dad was born and raised in Kodiak, and he went on to become Commissioner of the Dept. of Public Safety. He was very involved in native issues and did quite a bit for the native community. He was the first Alaska Native Commissioner and proud to be so. He died a few years ago, and since then a few of the native corporations made a move to name a Mountain after him, one in a bay where he and mom spent there last time together. So our trip was part of the celebration of the naming of this mountain. I, unfortunately, was on the committee planning this thing out. Had I the foresight to know what that would entail, I likely would’ve excused myself.
on the road to Pasagshak
Nana talking to her friends the seals. Alli learning the ways of her crazy elders.
Indiana Godfrey and his bullwhip of death. Don' t believe me, ask Ben where his left ear is.
One of us has a little less hair than the last time we were here.
she still likes me!
Notice the famous rocket launch tower in the background
scenes from the beach
more beach scenes
even more
Part of the committee job was travel, travel to get the family to and from Kodiak. Things were falling into place a little nicely and I should have known a curve ball, nay a sinking slider was upon us. The day they were supposed to arrive, our air transportation was cancelled. coincidently, this was the day prior to the event. Ahhh Kodiak you got me again! Myself and my family, understanding how this hearty island worked, we were there a week early on the ferry, so we were good to go. It was the other 18 people with which I had to deal with. Frantically, as fast as my fingers could pound the flat screen of my iphone, I was sending emails, making phone calls, and reading emails. Finally after hours and hours of heartache, indigestion, anxiety, stress and a little fear, we were able to make arrangements to get the family to the Island with hope, just hope of getting them home ( I of course did not tell them that). But I knew once I got them there, the rest would depend on the Island.
some of the buffalo
getting an early start on fine arts
watch out Jake!
Nana, Grandma and us
Dorian doing what he loves the most
nana doing her best at Lake Rose Tead
the kids? wading
Dorian may like fishing, but he don't like wading
here comes a big one
A scene from Baywatch!
run for your lives! or at least for your socks
cleaning up Papa's grave
I don’t want it to appear that the whole time was a stressful mess, just a few days of the trip. The rest of the time we explored the rock as if it was our first time. We hit up our favorite beaches, sites and mountains. Visited spots where Tra and I had dates, ate at new places and old, visited great friends and had a genuine good time. The first day of the ceremony went well, for most of it was indoors. The second day of the ceremony, well….. it didn’t happen. It was to involve a boat trip to the mountain to place a plaque. But when the weather is blowing Northeast 45, no one is too skippy to take a boat trip anywhere, especially the skippers of the boat. None-the-less, we made a day of it, again hitting the beaches, all 30 of us.
the most popular drummer
One of the dancers
The traditional mask that was built to be burnt.
The fire to burn the mask those logs are about 8 feet long
The beach we chose that day was Pasagshak, a beautiful forty minute drive through three Kodiak wind swept bays and over the mountains. There were horses, buffalo, salmon, bald eagles, deer and more spread along the way. After several stops, we arrived at the end of the road, our beach of choice.Upon unloading the crew, and doing a little beach combing, I sat on the beach, watching my kids playing in the surf, looking for fossils, exploring the WW II bunkers, and climbing every hill in sight; I breathed in the salt air, listened to the massive surf pound the beach, and felt the wind pressing against the back of my jacket, and I was in the moment in one of God’s greatest creations. Just then, a small, but fast raindrop pelted against my nose, and caused me to look up into the sky. I didn’t have to look up much, and I saw the low dark clouds hovering in a haze of foggy rain, and I realized that I had to figure how to get all these people home. At that moment I knew, the Island had got me once again. How many days this time Kodiak? Some things never change.
leaving scenes
Jake reflecting
Jake Reflecting
Nana, Grandma and their 20 grandkids and counting, color coded of course
Labor Day Weekend Part II. The long awaited sequel to Labor Day weekend part I
The next day we again ventured out into the briny sea, this time with the whole family in tow. Early to the high tide, the fishing was not nearly as productive, but everyone managed to catch something. Unfortunately, something more often than not, was a 50 pound skate or a feisty little dogfish shark. Somehow, I don’t think the little ones minded too much, except for dad who had to wrangle each and every one of them off the circle hooks. I made a bit of an art of it after a dozen or so attempts, and a few cuts, and a few crushed fingers from those blasted skates.
A shark.....
... a skate........
.....my hot date!
To the little ones, a picture with a shark or skate was much more exciting than a stinking halibut anyway. Although before the trip was over, Alli landed a 30 lb. prize, followed by Jeremy and his 50 pounder, added to the halibut of day one, we ended up with enough meat for even our family.
I have no clue.
Shyla on the boat doing the same thing she does at home
Alli on the boat doing the same thing she does at home.
While fishing, the fog come upon us without warning and we had to rely on our old fashioned navigation, the gps. It guided us right back to spit. After a vessel and fish cleaning session, we grabbed some pizza at Starvin Marvin’s and headed back to home sweet home. That night, cuddled up and cramped, we ate some home made popcorn and played games while sitting on top of each other.
that's a rod bender there.
more bow poses
Jake chillin
kids kissin
dad drivin
Jeremy fishin
dad gaffin
Jeremy posin
Instant Foggin
That night the kids retreated to their exclusive loft, which managed to sleep each and every one of them. The downfall, the loft was right above our room, so every shift of weight, walk to the bathroom, or acrobatic bed jump, flexed the roof above our bed and sounded as if Dorian’s halibut from the day prior was flopping around on top of us.
our humble abode
our view
their loft
We finished our mini vacation to the south with some stream fishing on the way home. There wasn’t much in the way of catching, just fishing and bug fighting but opportunity for lots of pictures and hopefully some memories. The trip ended with unpacking of twice as much stuff as we packed. I still don’t get how that happens. Every trip, every time, even when we do no shopping and eat everything we packed, we come back with at least twice as much stuff. I equate that to the mystery of missing laundry socks.
Anchor River fishing
jakey working the Nemo pole
Ben fishing?
Alli in B&W
Kachemak Bay
still working that Nemo pole and mohawk
looking for fish, not catching, just looking
All things considered, the trip was a lot of fun for a mini vacation 90 minutes from home. Next time though, we won’t pack as much stuff.
Jake found a ride home
You’re driving me crazy!
Dorian is now driving me everywhere I want to go. He has been permitted for several months now and he is doing a fine job as my chauffeur. He hasn’t done too much chauffeuring for mom, because they still want to have an amicable relationship once he is fully licensed to drive.
I have been breaking him in on my beast of a truck, a 1996 rebuilt (95 body) Chevy K1500 with a 5 speed manual. This truck intimidates those with low testosterone levels if they merely enter the beast, much less dare to drive it! ( ask Pastor Scott about that!) The smashed in driver’s side door, the scratches on the deep dark blue paint, the over-sized tires, the unintentional hole in the muffler giving her the sound of a Harley on four tires, and the blood colored fluid leaks, make this man’s toy no child’s play.
Pure concentration as he delivers the whole family safely to church
I have several ulterior motives for training him on this TRUCK. 1. If he can drive it, he can drive anything! 2. If he hits something, odds are that something will likely be worse off than the behemoth. 3. It is nearly impossible to drink, text, talk on the cell, or even itch your ear when driving this four tired terror. 4. It has the old fashioned muscle power window rollers so that he can build some mass on those arms as he orders dad’s coffee. 5. When he masters it, and has his Alaska Driver’s license hot of the laminator, he will be endowed with this beauty of a motor vehicle, a vehicle that the cash for clunkers program was invented for, but will ride the roads of Alaska until she can ride no more. I will not bow to the government’s instance of taking all the cars with character off the roads of America!
The big van
the "girly" car
The "beast" note the fluid stains under the engine. This is the dump run, hunting, fishing, towing, packing, mountain climbing, man machine.
Unfortunately, he cannot always drive the truck, so sometimes he has to drive mom’s girly car, the Mercury Sable with leather seats. Or, if he is lucky he gets to drive the 15 passenger Chevy Express, a ride that puts Hummers to shame ( and embarrasses all teenagers that are dropped off at high school in it) . This past Sunday Dorian drove us all the way to Church and back in the van, and he even became a true Alaskan, making his first coffee drive through. A dad couldn’t have been more proud to have his sugar free white chocolate americano passed through the hands of his son ( and yes that is a very manly drink!)
Dorian's first coffee shop drive thru, a true Alaskan experience
Coffee menu, I am craving one right now! And yes those prices are in American dollars.
So stay tuned as we embark on the adventure of adding our third licensed driver to our household, and the joys that come with driving, such as going to the dump for dad, to the store for milk for mom, to the coffee shop to get mom and dad their s/f white Americanos…. oh to be young again!
My favorite story teller
I need to vent, and when I vent I usually like to write. So you all get to be the brunt of my vent.
First, this week we heard from OCS ( for the first time in forever) that Jo will be leaving us forever on July 19. This news came out of the blue and kind of took the wind out of our sails to start the week. If you don’t know, Jo has been our child since before her first birthday. In a couple weeks it will be her fourth birthday. Now they tell us she will no longer be our child. As you can imagine this has been an emotional nightmare for our entire family. We have been praying and praying and praying more for Jo to be with us, and right now we are in the 12th hour and barring a miracle, it does not look good. The last few years, our time with Jo has been an emotional bungee jump. I will not go into everything as I have bore my heart about her several times on this blog: That\’s what I (don\’t) love about Sunday & the one that started it all… At what cost. If you want to read the whole series, just click on JoJean in the category cloud to the right. Needless to say this has been like ripping our hearts out of our chest, and frankly I have been numb all week. Yet we have no choice but to be strong because we have 7 other kids that need us.
Then today at 3:05 Tracy calls me at work to let me know that my Grandpa just died. What? Is this some kind of joke? Now I must point out that my Grandpa has not been well for a while, but he was one tough hombre and every time we thought he may not make it, he pulled through and was sometimes better than before. Nonetheless, it hurts, and it hurts bad. I feel for my mom, my aunts and uncle and very much so for my Grandma, and for our family. I spent a lot of time with my Grandpa growing up. He taught me so much without trying. He taught me work ethic, perseverance, strength, fire and desire, he was instrumental in teaching me how to be a man. Something that a lot of this society now lacks. He didn’t set out to “teach” me these lessons, he was just himself.
I commercial fished with Grandpa since I was about 5 years old. I spent all my summers on boats out of Kodiak, and I took my first steps on one of his boats. I have so many memories, some hard, some bad, some tiring, but many great memories that are almost surreal. He showed me how to work a seine, how to drive a skiff, how to dig claims and fish for halibut. He showed me how to shoot deer, catch shrimp, carve, and much to my Grandma’s horror, how to chew snuff. I remember he used to smell like skoal and coffee as I sat on his lap on the flying bridge of his boat, just me and him traveling along somewhere away from anywhere, and I would revel in the smell. That smell was my Grandpa. It was with him I caught my first king salmon, my first halibut, drove my first boat, learned how to play cribbage and pinochle, all before the age of 10. All these things he did not set out to have me experience, I was just there, part of his life, and he was happy to have me there.
I have heard few better story tellers than my Grandpa. I am sure over the 10 or so summers I spent with him I heard all of his stories, and I would beg him over and over to tell me again. They were bigger than life, but all true. The details, until the day he died, they never changed, the names they were always the same. He could recall to the pound how much crab he had on board when it was rough that the waves took out his window. He could recall how much he got paid for loads of crab, and how he would get on Fish & Game’s case because they were wiping out the fishery. He could recall the looks on the face of the men in his stories, the crate of eggs the sea sick deckhnad sat on as Grandpa ate an egg sandwich in front of him for spite. And almost every story ended with laugh as he looked up into the sky, his piercing trademark blue eyes glistening with a slight tear; his mind back in his younger years and the multitude of adventures he had as a pioneer of the commercial fishery in this state. And I would be sitting on his lap or at his feet with smile as big as his in awe and wonder of such a man of strength and adventure.
I can probably write a book about my adventures with Grandpa & Grandma Gugel, but this is a blog not a book. Grandpa thank you for the stories, thank you for the lessons, thank you for the skills, thank you for the patience ( all though short at times, he was part German after all as he frequently reminded me) and all the experiences. But most of all thank you for being you and helping me to be the man I am today. You will always be a huge part of who I am and who I become and who my children become. You have left a great legacy. I know you are with God now telling him about the time you ate the maggot infested salmon; finishing, as always with ” and you know Glenn, that was the best smoked salmon we ever had”.
Grandpa, Jo and Glenn this past December
That’s what I (don’t) love about Sunday
Sunday used to be one of our favorite days, now it is a painful day. You see Sunday is the day Jo has to go away for the week, every Sunday for ….. ever? We still believe that a miracle will occur and that she will be with us, but until then it is very hard to take a little girl you love with all your heart, who is crying and begging not to go, and give her to someone that you don’t think loves her as much as you do, or will care for her like you.
Yet every Sunday afternoon we do just that. It gives us a knot in the bottom of our stomach and a fist in our throat. We do our best not to think about it, but sometimes it just sneaks up on you and you realize the gravity of the situation and the pawns we have become in that struggle that is her life. Further, instead of getting easier as the weeks pass by, the pain increases, and the reality of the weeks and months that we have missed weigh heavy on our souls and cloud our minds.
We pray, try to lighten the mood, and encourage her telling her that she will be back, and maybe, just maybe next time it will be for ever. So from the time we pick her up on Friday to Sunday, we try to make the most of our time, and that is just what we did this Fourth of July weekend.
We started the weekend with a 2 hr. parade, yes 2 hours! An hour and a half of it were Harley riders and wrecked race cars. But the kids got tons of free candy, and after all isn’t that what Independence Day is all about?
Jo loving the deer. He better be glad hunting season is still a month a way.
candy hounds, this is how the spent 90% of the parade. I don't think they saw but 2 floats.
Jo took a picture of daddy
After the parade we boogied down to Clam Gulch and hung out at the beach all day. The weather was absolutely perfect and we staked claim to a great section of beach. The kids played in the freezing water, the miry clay, the unstable bluff and had a great time. If we hadn’t forgot the hot dogs, it would’ve been perfect. Good thing Tra thought to pack some meat for hamburgers and saved the day.
every day at the beach must include rock throwing
Ok, the water's a little colder than I thought
Hmmmm, looks like she does at home.
hmmm, looks like he does at home ( minus the cool shades & fire)
you know how I feel about cameras!!
I don't remember painting red, white and blue on my toes... I thought I went with straight blue.
Olivia and Jake
Jake and Jo
The warrior with the farmer tan, Ben.
No hot dogs, no problem
From the clan of ignorant fools.
Sunday was another beautiful day, and after church and a fried chicken lunch, the slip-n-slide was calling my name. I didn’t answer it, but the kids did.
Jake prepping the slide for maximum slippage.
Jake in action, and yes this is a redneck slip-n-slide.
Livy in action
uhhh, Kassie in action?
a redneck slide must have a redneck fort
- Jeremy building something I am sure, as always.
sisters forever
this is how you do it.
spray action
Jo eating something that is probably not meant to be eaten
Bradley Clipperhands vs. Goldilocks
You never know the events that will take place when a rambunctious 9 year old and his uncle have time on their hands. I was fortunate to catch this rare interaction on video and I thought I would share it with you. Oh yeah, we didn’t tell his mom about this either. Love ya honey and hope you like it.
Had some youtube problems, so we used dailymotion this time. I hope you can hear it.
