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Winter Comes

Winter has been coming further down the mountains ever since we left the dock nearly three weeks ago. At first it was a dusting of bright snow on the highest peaks amplified by the sunshine that followed us to this place. Then the rain came and we busied ourselves collecting water off the wheelhouse roof to replenish our supply. When the clouds cleared, the snow was frosting the highest tree tops just below the open alpine meadows. The next level down the mountains seesawed back and forth between snow and no snow several times. One day we would be ducking rain showers and the lowest snow levels would disappear. The next time we looked they would be back. Now the snow was at the halfway mark. Yesterday, I heard some thundering while sneaking through the woods with my bow and arrow. Then I heard a distant roar. At first I thought it was wind and wondered about the safety of the boat but there wasn’t a tree branch moving.

Looking much like sleet but not as dense, tiny balls of frozen wet snow started tumbling down through the branches as the roar came over me. It was the first time I’d ever heard it snowing. In a few minutes, it was pure rain once more and the sounds in the forest canopy changed as well. Then the sun came out. When I got back to the skiff, patches of white were almost to the water’s edge. “Winter won’t be long now,” I thought.

And it wasn’t. Later that afternoon, gentle flakes of real snow lazily floated on to Skookumchuck’s deck and the trees at the water’s edge weren’t quite green any more. Just as it was getting dusk, we looked out to pure white. Huge flakes were streaming down. Winter had come at last and we were ready. Part of a deer had already been processed in our huge pressure cooker canner and the rest was nicely vacuum packed, labeled and in the freezer. With the buck activity we saw daily on the beaches, we knew the rut was on and more venison would be there if we needed it. Additionally, we had “tons” of other staples stashed away and a freshly plucked mallard hanging under an overhang on deck with more feeding in the shallows of the next bay over. Yes, life was settling into a rhythm alright. Unfortunately, it was a rhythm in which life and death played a part for all. We were just one more predator in the scheme of things just as was the weather and the sea. Those we kept on close watch, always.

Winter Cruising l Starting Out l We Get Visitors l Winter Comes l A Windy Night l A Special Day
Rhythms l Back to Civilization

Skipper Ted Mattson is an Alaska sailor with broad experience in Bristol Bay and especially his home, the Alexander Archipelago, Alaska's panhandle.  Ted operates popular adventure sailing cruises with guests in the summer months aboard the Skookumchuck.