The Inspiration Behind the Blog

I was born to be a writer. When I published my first novel Wild Point Island, my orange and white rescued feral tabby Chuck decided he wanted to travel and see the island for himself. Chuck's desire to travel inspired me to begin the blog and take Chuck with me whenever I traveled, which I do frequently. This was not an easy task. First, I had to deflate the poor kid of all air, stuff him in my carry-on bag, remember to bring my portable pump, and when I arrive, I pump him back up. Ouch. He got used to it and always was ready to pull out his passport and go. Now it's Theo's turn. Smart. Curious. And, yes, another rascal.

Showing posts with label Anchorage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Anchorage. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 11, 2026

Eagle Eyed Theo Spots Salmon

 Theo, the gangster cat, and I disagree on one thing--salmon. He loves any kind of salmon--chicken and salmon, salmon by itself, tuna and salmon . . . while I eat salmon religiously once a week and can only do so if I cook it in an air fryer and smother it in a tangy teriyaki ginger sauce. 

Nevertheless, we're both keen to watch the salmon run in Anchorage which occurs May through June for the chinook salmon and July and August for the hatchery seeded coho salmon.

I know little to nothing about salmon. Experts promise that in August you can see literally thousands of salmon making their way up Ship's Creek, which lies in the industrial heart of Anchorage. Ship's Creek runs through the port and alongside the ocean waters of Cook Inlet. 

So, of course, after a delicious lunch we trek to Ship's Creek, following a touristy kind of map which is mostly accurate, but not really. I'd like to say that it was our superior navigation skills that land us in the right location so we can look down from a kind of boardwalk and see the salmon, but that isn't true. I can only attribute our success to Theo and his amazing sniffing ability. 



Amidst the mud and sledge flats, fed by ocean waters, the salmon run. But here's where seeing the salmon gets tricky.



Dan and I are there in exactly the right spot (according to Theo) but see nothing. Theo, however, is intently looking down, his tail wagging a mile a minute, and we fear that soon he'll decide to jump off the boardwalk into the water. He has that stalking look on his face. And he's bouncing up and down, as if ready to pounce.

He sees something. We see nothing.

According to the experts, coho salmon are a dark metallic blue color with greenish blue backs in the ocean, but when they enter the creek they go through a hormonal change and turn a deep dark muddy green or charcoal gray color. That's what we're looking for--green or gray.

The sun is shining brightly. Dan grabs ahold of Theo and holds on to him for dear life. We're not amateurs when it comes to this gangster cat who will stop at nothing when there's food involved. 

"Theo, Theo," I hiss, "Do you see anything?"

Theo, ever patient with mere humans who can see yet not see--when it comes to those things most important--points his sleek paw at the precise spot in the water where we should see something. 

A miracle happens. Suddenly the water isn't just water anymore. It's chocked full of what look like long narrow black fish, crammed together (yes, like sardines in a tin can). 












We stay for a long time watching the salmon run. Eventually Theo realizes we're not letting him jump into the water and get swept away. He relaxes somewhat (if that's possible) and watches the show. We learn that it's not unusual for the salmon to appear black in the water. We can thank Mother Nature who's designed what they call "countershadowing" to camouflage the fish if the All Fishing Prohibited sign doesn't work.



If you see one up close and personal, they appear almost silver with black spots on their back. The fish meat inside is orange colored. 

When we finally walk away, I feel like a salmon expert. Theo, on the other hand, squinches his cute face, rolls his eyes, and meow whispers, "Dream on."

Tuesday, August 4, 2026

Theo Sniffs Totem Poles

 We arrive in downtown Anchorage, Alaska, which I can't describe as a thriving metropolis, but it is Alaska's biggest city. Finally, you feel like you've returned to civilization as we know it, the good and the bad. 

Anchorage is home to half of Alaska's population. James Cook arrived here in 1778 on his search for the Northwest Passage. At that time Russian fur trappers lived here and traded with the local natives. The Gold Rush of the 1880's and the Alaskan Railroad in 1915 brought more settlers.



We decide to visit The Alaska Native Heritage center in Anchorage, even though the moment we mention "museum," Theo puts on his saddest pout face. We lure him with snacks. 

"There'll be plenty of snacks along the way," we promise. "This museum is special," we tell him--marketing is key in this kind of situation--because it not only has indoor exhibits (Theo ho hums his disapproval) but also a model outside of authentic Eskimo dwellings and customs. 




First the inside where we glimpse rare finds of eskimo art and totem poles, which Theo sniffs. We can't resist telling Theo that totem poles tell us a lot. The carved animals and figures are a kind of family crest and represent ancestral spirits and supernatural beings that connect to the village.






















In a time when there was no central heating in a colder than cold climate, we see what kinds of clothing the natives wore:



Outside, we wander along a path and see what a native village would have looked like a century ago. The only thing we know are igloos, that the natives built in the snow. We have a lot to learn.

Since Alaska is 14.2% water, measuring 94,743 miles (the largest total amount of water in the USA) fish was their staple food--they built racks to dry the fish on:



Theo trots over to sniff the rack.

The locals stored their food high off the ground so the animals couldn't reach it:






Theo needs to sniff the poles.

The villages were tight-knit for survival, focused on hunting.

The native people built large communal spaces for the men to meet. It was used for ceremonies, dances, council meetings and where the men and older boys worked, ate and slept.

Individual families lived in smaller sod-insulated houses which were built underground using whale ribs, driftwood or logs and heavily insulated with layers of sod to combat extreme Arctic winds and sub-zero temperatures.












Theo had a field day sniffing the communal houses.

The locals also invested time in building tunnels, heavily disguised, that they could use to escape the village in case of an attack. These tunnels also connected dwellings. They could be 72 to 90 feet long.













Theo trots ahead of us as we try to imagine what life was like back then. The local people fished for whales, seals, and used the blubber to light and heat their homes. They melted water from the frozen rivers around them for drinking water. They used kayaks for traveling. 

We can't resist walking through one of the tunnels to see where it leads. This escape tunnel ended outside the village, near a waterway.

As we're leaving, we pass one more totem pole (which, of course, Theo sniffs). "Remember what we told you about the totem poles."

Theo sighs.

"Well, would you like living out here, Theo, a hundred years ago?"



"Would I have snacks?"

"No, probably not, but there would be plenty of fish."

He nods.

"And, of course, plenty of totem poles to sniff." 

Tuesday, March 10, 2026

Theo and Alaska--Why mom?

 How do you explain to a gangster cat that we have a bucket list and Alaska is top on the list and that's where we're going next.

"Bucket list?" he asks, looking at us askance.

We try to explain. "You have things you want to do--hang out with the squirrels and birds and eat snacks. These are top priority to you."

"Alaska?"

I try to narrow down. Well, we're landing in Anchorage and then taking a shuttle to Fairbanks. That's as far as I go . . . for now. 

I'm hoping our first view of Anchorage will convince him. It's Alaska's largest city and is called the gateway to the Alaskan wilderness. Forty percent of Alaska's population live in Anchorage. It's one of the northernmost American cities. 

Alaska holds a special charm. It's more rugged, colder in winter. The lifestyle is different. Then I hit upon a winning argument. Animals. "We're going to see tons of animals. Bears and dogs and bison and moose and all kinds of sea life--whales and seals."

Theo likes animals. All animals. Unfortunately, however, the first thing we can offer is a beautiful view. Of the mountains and the clouds. 



Flying into Anchorage. As the sun is setting.



We're still flying above the clouds.



Theo is less impressed than he should be. "Where are the animals?" he wants to know.

"How about a snack? You must be starving."

Snacks work. Temporarily. He glances up at the view and shakes his head. 

"I'm glad you're such a good sport." What I don't tell him is that it'll be days before we see an animal. A live one, that is and not some prehistoric bones! Stay tuned!