Sitka or Bust: Commute The World

Up until the past few days, I’ve always had this distinctive plan set in my mind where I’ll find a job that gives me the opportunity to make enough money to travel the world. I’ve since come to realize the flaw in my plan. One of the Texans told me that it is better to travel for work than it is to work for travel. I can see the truth in that. Why bother spending your hard earned cash on travel expenditures when you can just migrate from place to place in search of a meaningful, but temporary job?It is the perfect plan for anyone who has ever wanted to travel and who still is unsure of what they’d like to do for the rest of their lives. I fit into both categories. Besides, a new place is a new blog and while I could get my adventure in so can those who read.

I think it is settled. The Texans might have a hookup for a horse ranch in Brazil and I’d really like to see something completely different. Besides, there’s so much room left in my head for learning new things. I now know not to touch the spines on a rockfish (totally poisonous) or expect too much from matches labeled “strike anywhere.” My knowledge base has increased three-fold since graduating college. Maybe it was just a way for me to reach a higher plane of learning rather than prepare me for the real world. Because only the real world can prepare you: you need reality’s boot in your ass to get your perspectives right.

I think I felt the toe of that boot ever since the day I walked across the stage at graduation. Getting booted from the nest sure has a way of letting you fly or die. I’m flapping, but really, at this point I’m coasting more than I’m ascending.And to show this point, I’ve added a picture of an eagle flying directly into the side of a building. For being so majestic, some of them sure do seem like they plummeted from the nest as a last ditch effort to prove Darwinism.

Going to a fishing lodge in Alaska, I was told that I would be eating fish, fish, and more fish. I just shrugged my shoulders and jutted out my bottom lip. I love fish. I could eat fish every day all day, as long as I had a shot of mouthwash on my person at all times. I constantly used to say that I would have loved to be an Australian prisoner when the entire country was nothing more than a criminal stomping ground. Why? Because all the prisoners ate was lobster. Mmmmm. I really enjoy lobster. But then again, in 4th grade I went through a baby bell cheese phase. Now I can’t even look at those little buggers.

Surprise, surprise. I have eaten a lot of fish. Many varieties too. There was tuna and rockfish, halibut and salmon, and I know crustaceans don’t count as fish, but they’ve been devoured too. Joseph, the chef here, is amazing at everything that he does. But sometimes a girl just wants a fricken sandwich you know. He looked so sad today when I scraped off a scoop of cannoli filling from my plate into the garbage can. I think I overeat here just to please him. Us northerners have to stick together, but my waistline is not on board with that plan.  You can tell the gourmet food situation is pretty bad when I clean out someone’s fridge after they check out, see the fixins for a bologna sandwich and seriously debate smuggling it back to my bunk. I do believe this is what they call a first-world problem.

Not everyone who checks out leaves such awesome stuff though. Today I opened a lint trap in a room’s dryer and found a smorgasbord of tobacco and cigarette butts. Now, because I watched all the seasons of Weeds available on Netflix, I know that it is possible to make hash in a dryer. I don’t think they were trying to do that though. So either a tiny Alaskan squirrel decided to hide his tobacco stash from his wife in a lint trap, or lodge guests are pretty ridiculous. I’m banking on the latter. People bring weird shit to the lodge and as a part-time housekeeper, I notice. My second day at the lodge I thought I’d found some sort of crack spoon. Seriously, I was just doing dishes and stumbled across this beauty. My first thought was to take a picture, the second was to wipe off my fingerprints. I have since learned that this was some sort of tea-steeping spoon. I will forever call it a crack spoon though.

Anyways, today was a rough fishing day for the clients. The Full House only brought in a 17 pound king salmon and a few measly chicken halibut (so nicknamed because they are roughly the weight of a decent chicken). No pictures today. The winds were strong from the west and the seas were choppy. Dramamine was necessary. I believe someone snuck a banana on board. A banana? Yeah. Bananas are banned from the fishing vessels at this lodge because they ward off fish or have bad luck carried on them. I only see a potassium deficiency coming my way.

Today was the first partially sunny day I’ve experienced in Sitka. That in and of itself makes for a great day, even though I was stuck inside practically all day doing housekeeping or practicing my limited, but growing Photoshop skills. I also managed to catch an ass-end picture of the lion-dog.The Texans are obviously vying for my heart. Nick ravaged a Yelloweye Rockfish carcass today to gift me with the precious ear bones. Supposedly they are ivory and allow the fish to sense movement and direction through the vibrations. He told me that a lot of people make them into earrings or jewelry of some kind. Very interesting gift, I’ll tell you. Cliff decided he would attract the bald eagles so I could attempt to snap a few pictures of them. Those buggers are definitely faster than my limited shutter speed.

Remember when I wrote about Nick bashing his eye on the steering wheel of The Punisher? Well, the next day Cliff rammed his eye into the outcropping on his bunk and now they both have the exact same shiner. They’re both so close to each other that they couldn’t bear to look different apparently. They like to tell people that they got into a fight with a grizzly. I just find it amusing that the Texans cannot ever stray from one another.

The eagles were being all coy when Cliff and I descended on the beach after filleting fish in the processing room. We could see them watching from the trees, dozens of them, as he tossed some carcasses on the boulder in the harbor. We stepped back but they didn’t budge from their perches so Cliff decided to be a gentleman and give me a show. He started chucking the carcass pieces into the air and we finally got a reaction from the eagles. They swarmed like honey bees, dipping low and completely carefree as they snagged the pieces of fish. I was struck by how awesome, yet uncoordinated they seemed. They only caught a tasty tidbit once every three or four swoops.

We only brought out a few carcasses because getting the eagles all riled up is an illegal activity. Apparently the eagles have been known to nab prey way too big for themselves, fly over populated areas and drop them on unsuspecting womenfolk. Well, not just womenfolk, children have been squashed too. Can you imagine how surprising that has to be? Just minding your own business and all of a sudden a fricken carcass drops on you. Even a part-time housekeeper has to cringe at that.

I was down at the docks the other day and an auxiliary coastguardsman was telling me about the seaplanes that are always flying around. Every so often you hear this horrible, deafening noise as one takes off. It just so happens that he knew the seaplane owner and was kind enough to tell me why it sounded so different from the other seaplanes. apparently, this seaplane is a variable pitch and can completely break the sound barrier. Holy wah. That’s an impressive seaplane. Can’t say I like the sound though, it kinda makes your teeth hurt. Another interesting tidbit though; around March Sitka is filled with cars driving the roads with plungers stuck to the roof. Somehow this isn’t as shocking now that I’ve lived in Sitka for a week. For some reason, pilots like to be identified through these means. How a plunger signifies pilot, I’m not quite sure. Maybe I’ll find a pilot and ask.