The people I’ve met

Well, after three sets of take-offs and landings with two different airlines and four pieces of very heavy luggage, I arrived (in one piece) into a daytime-like 8pm Anchorage. While waiting for the baggage to come out, I loitered in the ground transportation area, set on taking the $1.75 bus ride into downtown instead of spending $20 on a cab ride. While waiting/loitering, I started chatting with a guy from the same flight who had also come to Alaska for a seasonal job related to fishing, in a town just north of where I would be staying (Girdwood). We exchanged numbers thinking perhaps we could get together for hiking or a day trip sometime, and then I asked him how he was getting there. As it turns out, the wife of the family he would be working for had come to collect him from the airport, so I asked if it might be on their way out to drop me at the Anchorage International Youth Hostel, where I had a reservation for the night. Instead, she countered with the offer to take me with them all the way to Girdwood, where I would be much closer to my final destination. She even went so far as to say that if the Girdwood Hostel was full, I could stay at their house! When I poked my head into her van, I saw another adult woman and 4 young children. With the new guy (Gabe) and his luggage there was really no room left, and yet he then offered to sit in the “back” (trunk) so that her plan could actually work! They were so willing to accommodate me that I was at a loss for the right words with which to graciously turn them down. I already had my pick-up scheduled for the next morning from the hostel, and would need to stop for groceries on the way out, not to mention that the addition of my bags to the “back” of her van would make it nearly impossible for Gabe to get comfortable there.

My next friendly encounter was from the opposite of a native. A young Korean man, in the US for the first time, was also looking for the bus into downtown and was also staying at a youth hostel. When the bus finally pulled up, it lingered only long enough for one man to board and then started pulling away again as I struggled to gather my things and head in its direction. The Korean man jumped to help me, taking one of my larger suitcases and running alongside the moving bus until he caught the driver’s attention. We hoisted the bags onto the platform and then both started fishing for money to insert into the ticket machine. The bus driver, annoyed at his apparent timetable tardiness, uttered some words of frustration and ushered us into some seats. I tried to stabilize my luggage, and sat quietly wondering what I had done to upset him. I observed that with each successive stop, some interesting and rugged-looking characters got on board. The majority of the riders were single, middle-aged men of mixed races looking scraggly and weathered and talking to each other across the aisles. The exception was one young woman who got on with a young set of twins and a third baby in a stroller and was just able to contain them all to one corner. As we approached the downtown area, one of the characters got up to leave but stopped to accost the bus driver on his way out. He hadn’t paid his fare, which the driver had commented on initially, and suddenly the entire bus was watching a full-scale altercation that had some of the regulars shouting out their own comments. One man cursed the aggressor in support of the driver, adding under his breath “I mean, he’s driving the bus, right?” It took a few more exchanges of unpleasantries and insistence from the driver that the man leave immediately or he would call on the police for the freewheeling customer to step off onto the sidewalk, and everyone sat back again as though the climax of a stage play had just released their anxious suspense. But back to my kindly Korean man… When I spotted the hostel from the window, I got up to exit and he followed behind me, again carting one of my bags in a friendly gesture. We wheeled all of it down a block or two and up a flight of stairs to the reception desk, where I then found out that the Korean was not staying at this hostel at all but another one a bit south of there, which the bus had passed by about 20 blocks before! I was again startled by this total willingness to help out a perfect stranger and I was pretty concerned with the fact that he’d have to walk back up the street, wait for the next bus heading in the opposite direction, pay the fare a second time, and retrace the route with a new set of characters! I didn’t know what to say so I just thanked him profusely and he matter of factly took his leave.

The hostel was another matter. Having stayed in youth hostels before (though mainly in Europe), I had had no hesitations about making a reservation there, and the lobby and common area where I entered appeared acceptable though clearly well worn. When I reached my shared room, however, I was disgusted by the obviously neglected condition, from the dark brown shaggy carpeting that did not seem to have been vacuumed for quite some time, to the white bedding with stains of questionable origin, to the beat up wooden bunk beds that were placed way too close together. The bathroom was extremely basic and also very close-quartered. The showers had rusty fixtures and abandoned plastic bath product organizers hanging crookedly off the spouts. The sink countertop revealed plastic laminate peeling off of the particleboard. It was all I could do to take a quick (though pleasantly hot) shower after my long day of flight, being careful not to touch any of the surfaces along the way. If I had thought of it then, I could have used my own bedding as a buffer between me and the scarily ancient bedcover, but I was fixated on finding a late dinner so that I could appease my stomach and get to sleep before too long.

The saving grace of my night in Anchorage was my meal at the Glacier Brewery. A beautiful, large, open space with curved wood trusses holding the ceiling high, the brewery was home to everyone I hadn’t seen on the deserted streets. The place was packed! At the front, the kitchen was open to public view, forming a long, continuous curve of double-stacked stainless steel countertops as you walked into the dining room. The menu was varied and the food that had caught my eye on my way in looked fresh and delicious. I sat at a high bar counter looking back out over the dining room and ordered a house-brewed cream soda, which was so dark that I thought my waiter had accidentally brought me a beer. It was tasty, not too sweet like the bottled brands, though I did use it as an excuse not to order dessert later on. I decided to have a salad and try the seafood chowder (which really only had fish in it- salmon and halibut). As I sat waiting for the food, I scanned both the crowd and the interior design of course. A man walked by, then backtracked and paused to look around, as if he were trying to get by but couldn’t find a clear path. I asked him where he was trying to go, and he replied that he was looking for a place to sit, so I indicated that the seats across from me were vacant and he pulled out the chair across from me.

I immediately found out that he was a veteran commercial fisherman, so since I know nothing about the business or methodology except that it is one of the lifeblood industries of this last frontier, I pumped him full of questions which he readily answered for me in satisfying detail. He was willing to tell me not just about the practical matters of how to find out where the fish are and what type of net he uses, but also point blank about what things cost him and what money could be made with a good catch. I learned that a “tender” is a larger boat that roams around on the water collecting fish from the smaller boats such as his, to take them back to the canneries or fish markets. He was clearly pumped up about his success during the last week at sea, his eyes widening as he described the sight of his net overflowing with salmon, the fish being hoisted onto deck by his hydraulic pulley and sliding into the fish holds below. It was fascinating to hear about this seasonal life on the water, a solitary one for days at a time, putting in 18 hours of hard labor at a stretch, and then the waiting periods that follow after the quotas have been met. Paul usually works out of Cordova, on the eastern side of Prince William Sound, but had crossed over to Whittier to take advantage of a particular salmon migration pattern, and then had driven into Anchorage for some city life on his days off, as well as to eat at one of his favorite restaurants. He forwent his usual order of seafood jambalaya for the pork chops, which were unbelievably tender and tasty. His order was much better than mine as a matter of fact, as the chowder was overly thick and rich, and I couldn’t detect any chunks of fish. I also got the insider scoop from Paul on Prince William Sound, and he invited me to come visit him in Cordova and see his boat. He said that if I just showed up and asked around the docks for the Typhoon, anyone would be able to point me to his boat since it’s a small town and all of the fishermen there have been working closely together for many years.

My home for the next 2 months

On the plane from Seattle, I had met a man who had been born and raised in Palmer, AK and was visiting his 80-something-year-old parents in order to be the driver of their mobile home for a month-long tour of the area I will be working in. He was familiar with Summit Lake Lodge and said they would stop in to eat while I was working there. I had also gotten the name of a Smith College alumnae who has lived in South Anchorage for the last 15 years- she said she had just stopped at the lodge for ice cream with her family on their recent weekend jaunt. Thus, apparently well known to the locals,

I started to believe that there was some merit to the location of my impending short-term employment. I knew that it was more of a secluded roadside business than that of a destination town on the peninsula, but until I pulled into the driveway off of the south-bound Seward highway, I didn’t realize that it is really not an organized recreational area at all but truly a place for travelers to simply take a break from driving, eat, browse for potential souvenirs and for a limited number, stay the night. The “crew” is very young- male students from various places nationwide are the cooks, early 20-something women do the waitressing and hostessing (several from Bulgaria, one from Russia, two from the Check Republic), and the owners Marty and June handle the management, including supply runs into Anchorage twice a week which take close to three hours round-trip in driving time alone. There are two redheaded sisters working here together for the summer who are originally from Rochester, New York! And that’s not all- one of them has a boyfriend from San Diego, AND that same one goes to Hampshire College and has taken classes at Smith! Can you believe that triad of coincidences?!

The restaurant at Summit Lake Lodge is quite quaint, with a small bar partially separated on one side and a lowered area on the other with tables underneath a tall curved glass wall which look up to the best view on the property (as pictured on their website www.summitlakelodge.com). The gift/espresso/ice cream shop is likewise cozy with its log construction and a small deck overlooking the lake, although the lake seems to serve as a foreground to the mountainous backdrop rather than as a usable body of water on which to boat or fish or swim in. I did spot an overturned rowboat hidden in the trees on the property that may be available for employees to take out on occasion. Otherwise, there do not seem to be any maintained trails beginning at the lake. I’m told by some of the other staff that you can simply hike up the hills by making your own way, and many of them do camp out overnight in the area and find places to explore nearby. But I’m also told that when a couple of them were fishing the river recently, they were approached by a brown bear and her cubs and had to wade quickly upstream to get away from them! Well, they did promise wilderness and wildlife! As for my work, I start the orientation and training for my waitressing position today (Thursday) at 4pm, so as of yet I’m still not sure what all of the rules and expectations are. I just hope that when they finally turn me loose, business has picked up again, as I’ve heard from a few people that the last few days have been painfully slow (though opinion varies from person to person and as typical for this industry, business ebbs and flows from week to week regardless). Well, thanks for tuning in to my long introductive narrative! It could be that without wheels, I will be at a loss for activities to fill the first parts of my workdays (although I’m definitely out of here on my days off!) so I might be writing many of these lengthy, detailed descriptions.