Two rivers run through it

Since mid-July the Matanuska River has been eating away at this property.  Sept. 21 it had filled the yard all the way around the house.  You can see the water level in the line along the lower wall.  Then the water receded and took most of the bank with it.  When this all started that house was reported to be about 100 yards from the river.

Took some flooding in the past few days, some of it almost threatening my home.  The Knik River, about a mile or so away decided to fill its banks to overflowing.  It's all in this photo gallery.

Fall weather: The gift that keeps on giving

Huge cottonwood went down between houses.  Difficult to get the whole thing in the picture.  Stump is visible to right and the tree extends off to the left. The visible trunk ought to give a reference point to the size of the tree. The first of the branches with leaves are at left.

First I need to figure out how to get that spruce on the ground
and then it becomes firewood. The downed cottonwood is between the camera
 and that house.

OK, so I went to sea for a while, writing in the process of storms at sea, the equinox, Alaska and oceans.  So what showed up?  Calm water, no wind and only a bit of rain.  Hardly what's to be expected this time of year in Southeastern Alaska.  But, while I was lolling away on a sailboat to the south, three more storms ripped through Southcentral, knocking down more trees, and raising rivers to dangerous flood levels.  As a matter of fact I read on line a news story that said, firefighters who were clearing blown trees from roads said they had seen several 50-foot cottonwood trees blown down in my neighborhood.  Unable to raise an alarm with anybody who might check the house, I raced home the following morning because there are several of those 50 foot cottonwoods in the yard, not to mention those dead spruce and a few more live ones in the 80-foot range.  Lots of branches down and one smaller spruce that got hung up in an alder on the way down.  In the neighbor's yard one huge cottonwood had fallen between our two houses, fortunately missing both.  There are trees down in other yards in the neighborhood as well.

Meanwhile elsewhere, flooding is rampant across this valley and three dikes are threatened with authorities now encouraging folks in Talkeetna (the closest town to the East Pole) to evacuate.  Flooding won't bother the cabin there as it stands on a hillside probably 300 feet above the river.

Several other streams in the Matanuska and Susitna valleys have overflowed and people have evacuated ahead of floods all across all three of the valleys here.  I live in the Knik River Valley which so far seems all right although that river is high, too.  Water has surrounded that house where the guest house fell into the river a few weeks ago.  Here's a gallery of photos from that experience.

Today we had sun  and calm but already in late afternoon it has started raining in Anchorage and the forecast is for at least two more storms to hit through here in the next 10 days.  Yippee!  I talked to a woman while I was taking pictures today who said she has lived here for 42 years and never seen anything like it.  I believe her.   We'll just have to hunker down and see what the new storms throw at us.

Just wondering has anyone read John Steinbeck's "Tortilla Flat?"  Am I going to have to find a chair leg and go out back to do battle?  It didn't turn out so well in that book. And, along that same line: If an insurance company refuses to pay for damages caused by an "act of God," shouldn't it then have to prove the existence of God?  But if there isn't one, who killed Danny?  Maybe there is no need for a chair leg, except to go after the insurance people.

Flooding at Talkeetna near the East Pole

Your hearing better be good if you're going to throw broccoli

Point Retreat Lighthouse

Years ago a foggy day always brought out a reiteration of the theory of potato navigation.  It is for those days when you can barely see the bow of the boat, let alone any geography in front of you, from the wheelhouse.

That's when you send someone up to the bow with a sack of potatoes. At intervals of every few minutes, he throws one ahead.  When one doesn't splash, it's time to turn.

Here's when that is called for.  Years ago on another sailboat and not too far from where we are now, we were passing a place called Bell Island in a heavy fog.  The bell sounds as a warning to navigators that they are near a large pile of rocks. We could hear the bell but could not see the island.  The skipper decided he wanted a visual on it so we started inching toward the sound. In time we heard the low hum of the island's generator. Then we heard two men talking in normal voices and still could not see the island.  Now, that's too close. The potato would not have splashed.  We turned having no idea how close we came to the island. Later the same morning we came upon the cork line floating at the top of a commercial fisherman's net. The fog remained so thick we could not see the the boat that had to be on one end of it.  We turned and followed the net and in a short time we came to the boat.  That's how thick fog can get, and what brings up the idea of potato navigation.

As we left the harbor yesterday, we could see a bank of fog ahead of us. As we sat in the cockpit looking at it, I asked Mike if we had any potatoes. He knew immediately what I was talking about and returned that he never had potatoes on the boat.

"Well what have we got to throw?"

The only thing that came to mind was the broccoli we had brought along, some of which had huge crowns.  

Compared with a potato, broccoli was not going to make much of a splash and that's what brought the quality of hearing into the conversation.

Fortunately by the time we reached the area where the fog was, it had lifted and the broccoli survived until dinner time.

Kindred spirits at the opposite poles

Sent from my iPad

This was actually written during the season on the Ice. I was station manager at Palmer Station, Antarctica. The guy who wrote it had graduate degrees in Physics and Philosophy, but was working there as a carpenter! He went into fits of hysterical laughter when I, in passing, one afternoon just casually commented your quotation: “All this inertia is getting me nowhere.” -- Mike Rentel

ANTARCTIC PEOPLE It takes a special kind of fool To leave a home and job, or school And pack a bag and grab a plane And leave behind the 'safe and sane' To go somewhere remote as Mars With no McDonald's, T.V., or cars No Exxon stations, no Pizza Huts, No 7-11's - you'd have to be nuts! To cast one's lot with a gang of freaks Misfits, outcasts, grouches and geeks Collectors of rocks, of eggs, of scales Sewer repairmen, benders of nails Far-fetched minds from far-flung places Wild lights in their eyes, strange knots in their laces Strange tastes in music, strange tastes in food Strange hair; strange clothing; good God, what a brood! What fool wants to go where those maniacs are? Each one a stranger, each stranger bizarre Who'd leave behind all that's comfortably known For a place without streetlights, police, or ozone? A fool, perhaps, with the mind of a child Alert and curious, friendly and wild Foolishly tickled to witness a dawn Delighted when two other fools sing a song Or perhaps a fool with a cynical bent Who scoffed at society, got up and went Broke off and ran from what others hold dear Went as far as one can - and washed ashore here Or it could be a fool of Columbus's mold Miraculous worlds to seek and behold More faith in tomorrow than any 'today' No 'here' as delightful as getting away Fools? Perhaps; but special past doubt Children and sceptics from the wide world about Gathered by chances as random as dice And sent to this 'home for the way-weird': the Ice And here to be tortured, ignored, and distressed And find in each other the strength for the test And find in these fools the best friends they've known And see in themselves a fool of their own So they bond together in a blissful way Hopeful fools in their world for a day As a part-time tribe, a fore-doomed race Good friends? Total strangers? Both at once - what a place

Jim 'Thumper' Porter 24 February 1989 Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station, Antarctica

Carhartt sailors

Ghosting along, barely making way in a snowstorm through a narrow channel, reaching from buoy to buoy barely able to see the next one as we passed. Dressed in the winter clothing of choice in the North, the ubiquitous insulated coveralls in traditional light brown. One or the other of us once in a while had to step forward to shake the snow out of the shelf above the boom, snow wet and heavy enough to weigh down the mainsail.

Except for the temperature and the clothing and the snow and the latitude, the time was right for one of Jimmy Buffet's classic reverent songs about sailing. As a matter of fact the subject came up. It must be fairly easy to wax poetic about a peaceful voyage in the Caribbean. Let Jimmy and his tropical shipmates face a storm north of 60, facing into a biting wind, snow catching on your eyelashes, your fingers cold and almost frozen to the wheel or tiller. Yeah, that was it, Jimmy, put on a suit of Carhartts and join us on an icy deck in the sub arctic.

But we couldn't blame him for our current discomfort. Nor could we enjoy his sailing music. But minds wander in the cockpits of the world, even in the north and we got to discussing the idea of writing a song for him about those hardy folks who sail in snowstorms. We emerged from the snowstorm and the wind picked up and we sailed home but the idea remained and over time we came to call ourselves Carhartt sailors. At one point my partner on that trip showed me some verses she had written for a song on the subject. They have disappeared somewhere, but the idea remains.

Tomorrow I am rejoining the ranks of those sailors, sailing out of Juneau, Alaska, on a 41-foot sailboat, to spend a few days or weeks sailing and fishing for silver salmon and generally enjoying the fall storms of Southeastern Alaska.  It's the time of year to at least think of pulling on those Carhartts.

"... We're calling everyone to ride along, to another shore.  We can laugh our lives away and be free once more."

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Fall storms and winter warnings

 The wind let up and the sky cleared revealing a bright moon. Mist covered the dawn and when it lifted look what the storm had left on the mountain.  Then today, for the first time this fall, the temperature dropped below freezing.  And it looks like there is some heavy lifting in the forecast.

Aftermath

At least in places the storm lived up to its billing.  I am not one to raise an alarm unless I can see the potential is real and with two lows gathering and heading east, it looked real.  The photo to the right was one from a member of the NOAA mesonet in Anchorage.  The National Weather Service lost power early and was unable to record much over the evening and night.  While it is not an official reading, the Weather Service had enough faith in it to post it on Facebook: a gust of 131 miles per hour.  There were several other reports of gusts of more than 100 mph from spots on the hillside above the east side of Anchorage.  Thousands in Anchorage were without power late into Wednesday. It was out about six hours here and I slept through it, so no big problem.

The last lily survives the wind.

Around here it didn't look like there was much damage.  There certainly was a lot of wind but nothing over 50 I don't think.  (Hint hint:  birthday and Christmas are coming and I would LOVE one of those weather stations like the guy who took that reading has).  Even the last lily of the year survived the wind.  That's it in the small picture.  A few branches fell into the driveway but none of the big trees.  I drove around the neighborhood and into town and saw where large branches had fallen across the roads and were cleared away by highway crews.  By the time I went by, one crew was clearing a branch out of the water where the salmon are spawning.  Off the highway a ways a few larger trees had broken and their tops fell to the forest floor.  Did they make a noise?

Shed has gone

See dust blowing off a gravel bar? River 20 feet from house.

I checked on the disappearing land along the river and another building has gone.  No one was around so I took a walk down toward the water.  Didn't stand too close to the bank though. The river remained high probably fed by heavy rains last night and appeared to be cutting into the bank still. The shed that was off to the left of the main house wasn't there any more.  Worse, by guesstimate the river was within 20 feet of the main house.  The photos show the situation as of today.

All in all it could have been a lot worse.  I didn't drive to the west over toward Wasilla where winds usually are stronger and more sustained so not sure what happened there.  I do know after wind storms like this the trees over that way are usually sporting new clothing in the form of plastic grocery bags.  (No lecture, just sayin')

Here's a NOAA collection of photos of damage in Anchorage.

'Squalls out on the (ocean), Big storms coming soon.'

Dark purple is storm warnings, light purple gale warnings, and behind those, two low pressure centers heading this way. FYI gale warnings mean winds 34-47 knots, storm warnings are 48-63 knots.  After that it's a hurricane.

There's a huge storm coming in from the west according to the Weather Service.  Here's the warning in our little area:

...STRONG WIND THROUGH THIS MORNING THROUGH THE KNIK RIVER VALLEY...

...STRONG WIND TUESDAY AFTERNOON THROUGH LATE TUESDAY NIGHT THROUGH THE KNIK RIVER VALLEY...

The forecast even warns people with high sail areas on their vehicles, like RVs and tractor trailers to stay off the road Tuesday and Wednesday. 

The local media is calling this just a continuation of the heavy weather Alaska has experienced for most of the year, but it isn't really.  As the autumnal equinox approaches it has been historically stormy on the oceans around the state.

Seeing the first of it on the chart over the Bering Sea brought up a flood of memories, not of storms I have experienced, but of listening to the single sideband radio while those folks on boats experienced extreme weather out on that water.

There was a night of several calls while I was crossing the Gulf of Alaska in the early 90s with reports of outrageously high waves and boats being battered and trying for shelter.  Once there was a mayday and constant communication with potential Coast Guard rescuers before a nearby crab vessel retrieved all aboard the foundering boat.  Reports came across of waves breaking out all the wheelhouse windows,  swamping the work deck, filling the lazarette and once a simple cry for help.  And there were some that were serious but sounded actually funny.

One captain reporting to the Coast Guard said he was locked in the wheelhouse and the engineer had locked himself in the engine room while angry crew members were running around on deck with knives.

Another one touched the heart.  We were tied up at Namu, British Columbia, on a Thanksgiving night waiting out a storm and trying to cook a turkey.  Out on the ocean a tug captain talked with his son ashore and listened while the boy described everything they had eaten for dinner that day.  It  was warming, yet sad and spoke to the loneliness and sacrifice of the mariner.

But, it's most often about the storms.

Well, the wind is blowin' harder now

Fifty knots of there abouts,

There's white caps on the ocean.

And I'm watching for water spouts

It's time to close the shutters

It's time to go inside.

Lyrics from "Trying to reason with hurricane season" -- Jimmy Buffett

This one sounds like it will be more than the usual around here.  Those folks who have been watching the Matanuska River eat their land away and take their buildings may be in for a new onslaught.

Even beginning now it is time, too, to think of those souls on boats in the big ocean.

A story about another storm around the autumnal equinox

An update: You know you're going to miss me when I'm gone,

Well, to begin with that house finally slid into the river, but judging by this picture that's not going to be the end of the story.  The river has now eroded enough of the bank to threaten the main house on the property and another small building.  That house has been abandoned.  The river also is now threatening several other houses downstream.  Meanwhile the first building is lodged tightly against a gravel bar downstream with just the roof showing,  All told, the river took more than 100 yards of ground on this particular property and given the amount of rain we've had in the past couple of weeks it isn't going to let up any time soon.  The water isn't that far from the highway (that's the bike path right next to the highway in the foreground), though the highway is raised and perhaps better protected.

Here's the story in the local paper with some additional photographs.

Here is a Facebook page of a neighbor downstream whose property also is threatened.

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