In 2007 I spent a week cooking for my friend, Jayson Owen, who has a lodge in Village Islands, west side of Kodiak Island (he is also a Delta Airline pilot) Here are some photos... and thoughts on Uganik (from my book.) You hear nature’s whisper and scream at Uganik Each time I went back to Uganik I better understood why the Reeds, Martha, and the Owens were so anxious to get back to their homes. On my last trip to Uganik I traveled with Jayson Owen on the Dawn Mist, to the Bear Paw lodge at Village Islands where I would cook for a crew who was doing research on harbor seals. The ocean was glassy calm throughout the whole trip. Porpoises cavorted, whales spouted, sea otters lay listlessly on the ocean. During the final miles of the trip we were treated to a beautiful golden sunset. It was getting dark by the time we got to Bear Paw camp. We squeezed through a narrow passage flanked by rock piles. The main lodge and other buildings were lit up. Jayson kept them on purposely to guide us to the beach. As we walked to the main house I looked up at the large mountain covered with an early fall snow. The stars sparkled above in a sky that had just turn from dark blue to black. I turned around to look at the bay which gave me a glimpse of a full moon reflected on the waters. Awe, this is paradise, I thought. I’m here, in the midst of it. The next day the placid scene was shaken by a raging southwesterly that blew through the bay with such fury that it looked like it meant to uproot every tree and topple every building in its path. Jayson and his helper, Ron Dunlap, loaded boxes of supplies from the hold of the Dawn Mist onto a pallet and, using a crane, sent them up to me on the dock. The wind blew so hard that it picked up a boxed chair from the dock and dropped it into the drink. Splash! Jayson jumped into the skiff to retrieve it. People have called Uganik a blow hole. I recalled my friend, Clara Helgason, telling me that Terror Bay, which was part of the Uganik system, probably got its name from the sound of the wind blowing through the mountain passes. It sounded like a banshee at times. There are stories of murder and self defense killing at Uganik. A man axed his son to death. A fishermen shot two brothers he claimed were planning to kill him. He hid their bodies underneath a rock pile. Another man shot a former drinking buddy in self defense as the intruder began to break down the door. But you can find those stories any place on the map. At Uganik you hear natures whispers and screams. Both get your attention. Little havens of peace and tranquility dot the coastline at Uganik. People live close enough to the bear trails, rock piles, crevices and cliffs to be reminded to be careful and wary. Don’t get too comfortable. There is a vigilance, but not a tense, uptight kind of vigilance required of a guardsmen who is waiting for a burglar show up. Uganik is no different than more refined places of civilization where a housewife calls her neighbor to come over for a cup of afternoon tea. But here the guest brings her rifle and common sense with her. During my first day at the lodge I heard a lady on the radio tell her friend to come over for a visit. But she told her to come in her skiff and not to walk through the woods because a big furry animal was hanging around her place. We know what she was talking about. Bears are all over Uganik. I ran into one myself when I hiked its back country in South Arm. I knew of one resident who slept upstairs when her husband was gone, because she felt safer from the bears up there. That’s what I love about the place. Its wildness. A neighborhood of cabins, shacks, houses and lodges are spread out amongst the islets, bays and points. The wind, mountains and the bears that walk on them, still have a presence that is undeniable. I hope it stays that way. The people who live out there, whether for a season or the full year, feel the same. I’m sure of it. Pam Pingree, who with her husband, Dave, and her kids operated the Quartz Creek Lodge in Northeast Arm near the old herring plant, ecstaticly talked about living at Uganik. “ I had longed to live out here for so long,” Pam said. “Thankfully my husband shared that desire! Our kids, even after traveling across the USA and being in town, still love being here the best. I always say that there is something really magical about this bay. It stays with you, it’s part of your heart.” Even someone such as I, who made brief visits to Uganik, could feel the magic. Its there, hovering over the mountains. It is in the howling southwesterly that buffets the waters. In the peaceful evenings when rays of light from a glorious sunset make the bay of pond of gold. The magic is in the gorges and trails that mark the mountain sides. I knew my place at Uganik. I was only a guest. The homesteaders, lodge owners, fishermen, trappers, bear hunting guides and others that spent at least part of the year at Uganik, also realized that Uganik was theirs only for a season. It is when you come to an understanding that you are only a guest that you can really feel at home there. PHOTOS OF UGANK, AARON, FAITH AND PAM PINGREE
Posted on: Sun, 12 Oct 2014 04:57:54 +0000
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