Good Coffee Hunting in the Great White North

Day 1

This week, Lexi and I head for Sitka, Alaska to enjoy the great outdoors from the comfort of Aunt Shannon and Uncle David's cabin cruiser. I understand why they invited me, a witty and knowledgeable deck hand, but to add one more child to their menagerie of children is beyond me. Perhaps my sister and brother in law have contracted a strange Alaskan fever while on their month long sea odyssey.

Lexi and I arrive in Sitka in the early morning, apparently even the barista's are not up at this hour as every coffee shop we pass is dark, a rude awakening for me.. The first coffee shop we pass is open from 8-1 on Tuesday and Thursday. The second coffee shop is open on Monday and Wednesday from 1-5. I assume the two owners worked this out among themselves, perhaps something to do with childcare. It would not be surprise me if they continue with this pseudo European tradition and both go on strike on the weekends. The shuttles and taxis operate on a euro schedule also; the tried and true method of hitchhiking seems to be a much more reliable source of transportation in the city of Sitka. The cab driver, sensing my caffeine withdrawal, drives until he finds a brightly lit storefront, and I race out of the car like a mad jackrabbit for my cup of joe.

After dropping our bags off on the boat, we immediately call a cab. We are fortunate that they are working this particular hour. Sitka is a very picturesque town with quite a bit of Orthodox Russian history, Shannon and I walk to the museum, and the girls meander down to the Raptor Center. We all meet up again and walk along the boardwalk where we find some rather unique gift items. I have the good fortune to procure a bearskin thong for Craig for Fathers day, a gift that is distinctive yet warming to the nether regions.  Happily, I discover a convenient coffee shop near our dock, which is open EVERY morning, biscuits and gravy is a popular item on the menu. Who knew?

There is an ongoing battle between the charter fisherman and the commercial fisherman. Apparently, the charter fisherman poaches on the commercial fisherman crabbing and fishing areas and this does not make for good relations. I am hoping this fishing etiquette does not apply to us as anyone can see that we are clearly not serious anglers as there is not a fishing rod in sight on our boat. If there were a fishing rod, my sister's two small boys would procure them for use in a deadly sword fight.

Day 2

Shan and David arise very early and head out in the boat tender to collect the crab pots. I notice they set their pots by the commercial fisherman's pots, I guess the private fishermen do not count in the battle between the commercial and charter fisherman. It seems as though perhaps this is bad fishing etiquette, but I manage to hold my tongue. Our captains swing by the “mother ship” (mom and dads boat) to discuss their catch. It is common knowledge that all fishermen like to discuss the gathering of the day's bounty. Nobody is on the deck to greet them, as mom and dad are relaxing in their beds and enjoying their morning coffee.  The guest on board mom and dad's boat seems to be very busy, hustling back and forth from the galley to freshen mom and dads coffee. I guess if you are a guest/galley slave on their boat, you have to work for your keep. The galley slave enquires as to if he is required to pull the pots while mom and dad rest in their beds. Shannon and David assure him that they will pull mom and dad's crab pots.

The crab pots offered a most unusual bounty...9 crabs, 2 of which are “keepers” and 2 giant starfish. This catch is typical for mom and dad; however, one of the monster starfish has eaten half of the bait box. I had no idea that starfish had “goat-like” eating habits. The bait, fish carcass, is a mere skeleton such as one sees in cartoons, the kind with x's for eyes. Mom and dad express rapt joy in their catch, however, in my humble opinion this does not seem like a good bounty.

Day 3

We arrive at Tenekee Hot Springs with relatively little trouble; the harbor is very scenic. We decide to moor at the dock rather than anchor out and David makes a call to the harbormaster. The harbormaster tells us to moor at the floating dock furthest out to sea, this is a problem since this dock is not accessible to the other docks. We are pariahs in the small town of Tenakee Springs, I suppose they heard about Shan and David's placement of their crab pots, I am sure we have unwittingly broken some cardinal rule.

The harbormaster also runs the grocery store and the hot springs. This seems like a good job if you can get it; the hot springs are directly across from the grocery store. I wonder if the harbormaster conducts any of her work from the hot springs, she looks very well preserved, perhaps from the sulfur waters.  I am just about to ask about her unusual job when Shan gives me a mighty jab in the ribs. Sisters always seem to know what you are thinking.

There is a shack covered with horns in town, homemade moccasins make an intriguing display inside the crusty windows. The moccasin designer is an interesting sort; she is wearing some type of retro woodsman garb. She has long grey braids, a weathered face (one would expect this from living in a seaside town) and she rolls her own cigarettes. My daughter assumes the moccasin woman is smoking the demon weed; she is surprised to learn that people still roll their own cigarettes.

I inquire about her moccasins for sale; sadly, she sold all of her current inventory. She offers to show me a pair of moccasins in the store next door. I am not sure that this is the kosher thing to do, but she assures me that Walter does not mind opening his store (odd Alaska hours yet again.) Walter happily opens his store, and we look at his wares. I try on the moccasins, which are too small but of fine quality. I now feel I should buy something from him for his trouble. Imagine my surprise when I see that he has an espresso machine and a soda fountain. I am delirious with joy; I immediately order several icy cold beverages and find he has no ice to make my drinks. I purchase one of the hand carved wooden bowls, yet another original find, surely much more meaningful than an iced mocha.

The moccasin woman and I sit outside her shop and look at different leathers for my fetching new soft shoes. Shan remains very quiet; I wonder what can be wrong but am unable to interpret her distress signals. I borrow forty dollars from Shan and finalize my purchase. The Moccasin women did not take checks or credit cards. When we are out of earshot Shan expresses concern about the business transaction, she is sure I paid too much. How did I know I was getting a good price? Lexi says she checked both store prices; Walter had a higher mark up on his moccasins, Lexi is an astute shopper. No one won this argument and Shan is short a fetching pair of moccasins, her loss.

Day 4

We are in Glacier Bay where we enjoy dinner at the lodge, after dinner, we attend a lecture about Glacier Bay. Maybe it is just me, but I feel like I am in Jellystone Park with Ranger Rick as our esteemed lecturer. The ranger's lecture is full of surprises, not only did we hear the history of Glacier Bay; the ranger also regaled us with a story about his old high school girlfriend. I am not sure why this is pertinent to the lecture, but as I said, he is certainly a most enjoyable fellow. He has such a friendly manner about him; I expect Smokey and Boo Boo to walk in from the park at any minute. Ranger Rick tells us he is a “flatlander” and hails from Missouri, he is not from the Ozark Mountain range. At the end of the lecture, Shan questions Ranger Rick about the eating habits of the local bears. The ranger dryly replies that the local bears are not interested in eating mothers or small children. I guess this means that David is acceptable as bear repast.

If we see a moose, we are to hide behind a tree, as moose are very unpredictable in their behavior.  This is a fine idea for the children but Shan and I look at each other with nervous trepidation, we are not sure a tree will give us sufficient cover from a charging moose.

Day 5

After breakfast and despite the rangers warning about the active bears, we head out for a vigorous hike. We shout back and forth in very loud voices in case the bear are near by. I am not encouraged to see two different fresh bear scat; it appears to be a mother bear and her cub. Of course, I do not really know this but my adrenaline is on overload. The last thing I need to see is bear scat, I push Shan to the front of the line reasoning that she will be bear food while the rest of us sprint back to the lodge, someone will have to sacrifice himself or herself. Sure enough we see a baby bear on his way back from a dip in the Bay, the kids are overjoyed and scamper here and there to get a better view of the cub (in my mind they look like young deer.) All sorts of bear stories began to filter through my mind. Shan insists we get a closer look; fortunately, the skeeters set upon us as soon as we stop hiking making it impossible to look for other rogue bears.

Shawn Underwood, a native Washingtonian, writes humorous anecdotes for newspapers and magazines.   If you are a member of the media or would like to use a story, please email Shawn.

View a list of all Shawn's stories online.