Homage to Alaska

Earlier this summer, I spent six weeks living with a friend and her family in Alaska. With me I brought my Mamiya 645, along with around 30 rolls of Kodak Portra 400 film.  My multi-dimensional experience in Alaska obviously extends far beyond these pictures; I am not attempting to convey my entire experience photographically. Instead, through this medium I hope that you may be able relate to my travels through the feelings these images evoke. The vast landscapes, bountiful wildlife, and equally wild people are what truly inspired these photographs.    

This is Julia, we traveled the West Coast of Australia together last year. At the end of our time there, she offered me an invitation to Alaska the following summer which I heartily excepted.

Julia's friend was also an essential part of the trip. I arrived by plane, but Jenni chose to embark to Anchorage via a five day ferry trip up the coast from Washington. Jenni is a wonderful writer, poet, and out-loud reader; it was always a wonderful occasion to hear her written words.

This is Richard, Julia's Dad. Recently retired from the mapping department of the forest service, he now has immense plans for the family cabin in Day Harbor. Richard and I spent a lot of time together working on the cabin, he taught me how to play cribbage, and he showed me the value of keeping a calm and patient pace in life.  Here Rich and the dog Ginger take point on the way to cabin, a three hour drive south of Anchorage and a two hour boat ride out of Seward Harbor and east into Day Harbor.

And this is Julia's Mom, Eleanor. Art teacher, mountain climber, painter... all out Alaskan. While at the cabin, Eleanor instigated the "work only every other day" policy. She always seemed to be there in a supportive way for me. She kept me safe from the thorny Devils Club by suggesting protective layers, in general she taught me about the many raw realities of living in the Alaskan wilderness, and she had a talented way of whipping up an amazing hot meal out of thin air.

Liam, the younger brother was a hoot. Unfortunately Liam had a pretty busy work schedule and was unable to go out with us to the cabin during my stay with them. But I valued his company whenever we returned to Anchorage. Liam taught me how to slackline, a balancing sport similar to tight rope walking. It's a gift that keeps on giving, thanks Liam!

The cabin was built in the early 80's using lumber that was hand milled with a chainsaw from the Spruce forest that surrounds it. He used a simple tool called an "Alaska Mill" which is essentially a guide that you set on the chainsaw bar that guides the cut at an exact depth. The original builder named Dave Firth, intended the property to be a peace center. Unfortunately he died at an early age and never saw his project completed. Through a series of connections, the McMahon family acquired the cabin and have been utilizing it in a way that would make old Dave Firth proud. In part, my job here was to help Richard build an extension off the back end which would greatly enhance the space and live-ability.  By the time I left, we had successfully built a large and beefy raised foundation that would soon be ready for floor joists, walls, a roof, ect ect.  

We were nestled in the spruces, right above the beach.

Eleanor's work in progress. The creek runs right by the cabin, the white noise of the rushing water was ever-present.

The cabin was completely functional, and loaded with artistic clutter that I loved. Many of the books on the shelf were left there by Dave Firth the original builder. Many genres were to be found including: Alaskan life, popular fiction, building how-to, as well as several Cold War Era academic reads.

A family of artists leaves art everywhere. Here a landscape painting of Day Harbor painted on a rock graced the trail down towards the beach.

Yes indeed... this was the common area. Beyond that wall is where the new extension will one day be.

My bed in the loft.

The Throne.

The Harbor's edge.

Our valiant steed the "Bonnie Lass."

Traffic in Seward Harbor.

The sea wasn't always calm enough for us to embark from Seward out to Day Harbor, or the reverse. We would have to be prepared to wait, sometimes days, before the weather would allow for a safe voyage.

Once, the water was too rough for traveling, and so we stayed with this man in Seward while we waited. Fred had some amazing stories, and he told them with a huge booming voice. In his youth he was once an adventurous cowboy. Things began to slow down for him once he got charged and rammed by a Buffalo. Now he lives a quiet life and collects things in the long term hope of profit.  When he's not overseeing this piece of land in Seward, he's squatting in Day Harbor.

Fred's junkyard dogs.

Fred had a lot of things.

Walking Ginger and killing time while we wait for better weather.

Fred had a couple of geese on the property. The male was not happy with me.

Fred has squatted in his cabin at the head of the Harbor for something like thirty years. He's tended wild horses there, as well as buffalo, pigs, goats, and chickens. Fred has a huge heart, and was always a hoot to talk with. We crossed paths with him here during a kayak outing.

These are a few more of the locals in the harbor. We were all saying our goodbyes after a diverse and enlightening Solstice party hosted at a nearby cabin.

Drunk as skunks on the way home. This was shot at around 1:30 in the morning on the Solstice.

Other activities included Halibut fishing!

Halibut are bottom feeders. They're flat fish, with two eyes on one side of the body. Here you can see Jenni has cut out the cheek meat on the underside of the fish, the most flavorful part. The McMahon family are all mastering the art of fillet. Jenni and I need some more practice.

The smug look of a artist at work.

These are big fish that can reach into the 100 lb range. Most of the ones we caught were mid size, 15-60 lbs.

Ginger's only motivation was food; always scrounging for leftovers.

I'd never seen so many glaciers until I made it to Alaska. We hiked to this one for a day trip while back home in Anchorage.

On a few occasions we brought glacial ice back to the cabin (to help keep food cool) or to the house in Anchorage (for fancy drinking ice).

The best Gin and Tonic I've ever had. Served chilled with glacial ice.

Some come to Alaska to work for the oil companies and the fishing industry, some only come as tourists, and some choose permanent establishment.  Amongst the wide spectrum of its inhabitants, visitors and locals alike all share one thing in common; a great appreciation for the humbling immensity of this place.