Tustumena
Oh, joy...
This morning, Denny and I took part in that rural Alaskan ritual--meeting the State ferry.
The MV Tustumena ("The Trusty Tusty") came in from her first trip of the season out to Cold Bay and the Aleutians. Typically, Denny had some items he shipped from Cold Bay to pick up, so we got up early and by six, we were heading into town. I could see the Tustumena out on the Inlet, at least forty-five minutes out of port, as I rounded the bluff. The sun rose from behind the mountains at the head of the bay as I was driving down the hill into town, and the pale peach sky against the azure and slate mountains almost made getting out of bed at such an early hour worthwhile. Almost.
It's the first time we've been out on the Spit this year. At that hour and this time of year, there were no tourists, just a motley cluster of Alaskans who had--for whatever reason--come out to meet the ferry. I must admit to being quite impressed with our state ferry system. At least from the point-of-view of a gawker on the dock, the ship seemed well-maintained and efficient.
And one of those slices-of-Alaskan-life that give me a warm feeling inside and make me glad to live here. Standing on the car deck, waiting for our turn on the elevator, we were surrounded by cars, trucks, heavy equipment, boats and trailers of various kinds--nearly all packed to the limit. I guess it says something about the informality of life in a small town that even though every driveable vehicle is left with keys, no one asked us for any kind of identification. We just went on board, found our payloads, then waited our turn to disembark.
The air was cold and the breeze off the water brisk. At first, only five or six eagles soared on the wave of air over the spit...by the time we left, there must have been forty or fifty, vying with gulls and ravens for airspace.
I sat in the Dodge while the guys attached the trailer and loaded the forklift--listening to Neil Young and trying to work out bits of my CI story in my head. It took the better part of six hours before we had our load back home and stowed away. Not the way I would chose to spend my day off, but an adventure anyway.
And no time spent hanging out with Denny could be called wasted.
This morning, Denny and I took part in that rural Alaskan ritual--meeting the State ferry.
The MV Tustumena ("The Trusty Tusty") came in from her first trip of the season out to Cold Bay and the Aleutians. Typically, Denny had some items he shipped from Cold Bay to pick up, so we got up early and by six, we were heading into town. I could see the Tustumena out on the Inlet, at least forty-five minutes out of port, as I rounded the bluff. The sun rose from behind the mountains at the head of the bay as I was driving down the hill into town, and the pale peach sky against the azure and slate mountains almost made getting out of bed at such an early hour worthwhile. Almost.
It's the first time we've been out on the Spit this year. At that hour and this time of year, there were no tourists, just a motley cluster of Alaskans who had--for whatever reason--come out to meet the ferry. I must admit to being quite impressed with our state ferry system. At least from the point-of-view of a gawker on the dock, the ship seemed well-maintained and efficient.
And one of those slices-of-Alaskan-life that give me a warm feeling inside and make me glad to live here. Standing on the car deck, waiting for our turn on the elevator, we were surrounded by cars, trucks, heavy equipment, boats and trailers of various kinds--nearly all packed to the limit. I guess it says something about the informality of life in a small town that even though every driveable vehicle is left with keys, no one asked us for any kind of identification. We just went on board, found our payloads, then waited our turn to disembark.
The air was cold and the breeze off the water brisk. At first, only five or six eagles soared on the wave of air over the spit...by the time we left, there must have been forty or fifty, vying with gulls and ravens for airspace.
I sat in the Dodge while the guys attached the trailer and loaded the forklift--listening to Neil Young and trying to work out bits of my CI story in my head. It took the better part of six hours before we had our load back home and stowed away. Not the way I would chose to spend my day off, but an adventure anyway.
And no time spent hanging out with Denny could be called wasted.
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