Katmai Skies

You cannot buy the sky; you cannot sell the sky; and it is very hard to fit it in a picture frame as well. Nonetheless, I do try, and this blog features some of my meager results.

The Alaskan summer sky is an immeasurably large, constantly changing canvas of clouds and color. Once your mind gets free of the punctuate and frenzied pace of perception we white men call "everyday consciousness," those skies start to seem like a living, acting entity, broadcast on the biggest and most beautiful screen on (or around) the planet.

Anyway, my first day at Brooks presented a classic calm evening sky with lots of moisture and a glowing sunbreak:


On the next day, and the rest of my pre-trip days, the sky got colder and started rubbing with increasing urgency on the earth in the process of what is called "An East Wind:"


When there's an Easter, Katmai Air flies into Brooks Lake instead of Naknek, which means there are shuttles on which me and my boat can hitch rides. Here waiting for a plane is Taylor, who is a fishing guide but nonetheless a good guy:

That day they were flying out a bunch of gear and a single Texan tourist, who watched me put my camping and fishing stuff into the boat and commented on my apparent self-contained program, "you've got the world by the tail there, don't you?" Yes my friend, that is the idea.

Day 1 of my lake journey presented the common scenario where a grey sky comes down close over a grey lake, with a thin layer of green earth between:


That kind of sky creates some really good fishing conditions, so I wasn't complaining. Though, after a couple of days of it I wasn't complaining about a good thorough clearup, either:




What, a movie of the sky? Sure, kind of. Here's the East Wind dogging my northeasterly trending route across Naknek Lake to Fure's cabin:



Fure's is a good place for skywatching, especially after the wind lays down a bit.



I had some really lovely skies at Grosvenor, too.


On the way back to the portage, it's another one of those grey days -- but here, you can see the mountains looming in the back:


OK, I'm going to indulge myself; here's the sky, and also the guy watching the sky.


Here the sky is talking to me, saying, "hey, guess what -- you get another big East wind for crossing the lake again!!" And I am replying by getting giggly and enjoying some wave-surfing as I make the generally southwesterly crossing in beam and tail-ish winds:




But much of the time the sky is like one of your oldest friends, who can sit there with you and feel just fine without making any chitchat.


It is quite possible that I'll be back under those Katmai skies come August, and at that point, there will even be night! Darkness! Stars, if you're lucky! Here in California you can see plenty of those when you get away from all the white men -- which I assure you, I am going to do before too many more days pass here . . . .