Unknown's avatar

About Jack & Barbra Donachy

Writers, photographers, food lovers, anglers, travelers and students of poetry

Chukchi Chess

Chukchi Chess – Colliding plates of ice as leads open and close create striking sculptures on the frozen Chukchi Sea near Point Hope, Alaska. 4/13/12

Autumn Shrike

Photograph of a Northern Shrike in flight as it settles onto a roost of autumn-brown Dwarf Birch.
Autumn Shrike – Northern Shrike burdock gone to rust and seed, Chignik Lake, 9/10/17
The brownish color of this shrike indicates a first-year bird. Mature adults are more gray, and the black eye mask is sharply defined and really pops. At The Lake, Northern Shrikes are typically arrive in late summer and remain common through fall with occasional specimens remaining into winter.

Friends Don’t Let Friends…

Friends Don’t Let Friends Eat Farmed Fish
Alaska is home to a number of iconic bumper stickers. It is my understanding that in former times, this Suburban served as Chignik Lake’s ambulance. That was awhile ago…

Little One

Little One The waters of the Alaskan Gulf near Chignik Bay provide an important nursery for Sea Otters and their pups. Rich with schools of herring, sand lance, migrating salmon and other fish, these waters on the southeast side of the Alaska Peninsula are also home to Harbor Seals, migrating Orcas and whales, and vast numbers of seabirds.

Wilderness Camp – but What Is Wilderness?

Wilderness Camp
Denali National Park, 6/7/17

We procured a backcountry permit at the park office, took a shuttle bus a ways into the park, debarked and backpacked into the landscape in this photo to spend a couple of nights. The only sign of people we came across was a plastic lens cap from a camera – something accidentally lost, not littered. Caribou and Dall Sheep, Wolf prints and Wolverine tracks… A Grizzly Bear caused us to change our course… Short-eared Owls cruising low, nesting Willow Ptarmigan hens – the males waking us at first light with their call of Potato! Potato! Potato. Tree Sparrows flushing from tiny ground nests where clutches of blue-green & brown eggs were crowded together. We came across Caribou antler sheds; a moose rack attached to a skull suggested a successful hunt by wolves. In 1846, Thoreau needed only to travel from Concord, Massachusetts to Maine’s Mt. Katahdin* to immerse in the vital contact with wilderness he sought. During the 2022-2023 season, 105,000 tourists traveled to Antarctica – up from just 5,000 only a few years prior… which was up from somewhere near zero not so long before that. Even Alaska’s remote, far-north rivers are typically floated by multiple parties each year. Not long ago I came across a recent piece of video depicting an unimproved campsite I overnighted at on youthful floats down my native Clarion River. The site was seldom used in those days, nearly pristine, and you could nice-sized large trout in the pool and the riffle water that flowed by. The contemporary video showed trampled vegetation, fire pit scars, bags of trash…

There are no doubt as many definitions of wilderness as there are human expectations of what might be present or absent in such a place. The one certainty is that wilderness is becoming more difficult to find, to immerse in, to discover and explore. My recollection of reading Thoreau’s account of his attempt to ascend Katahdin is that at some point the climb (or was it the descent?) was terrifying. Perhaps therein lies a piece of what wilderness means… a place cut off from civilization, where things could go wrong, and if they do, you’re on your own. There’s something liberating in it.

*Thoreau’s account of his journey to Mt. Katahdin can be found in his book The Maine Woods.

Downward Fox – The New in the New Year & Life a Little Closer to the Quick

Downward Fox – There’s nothing quite as satisfying in the moment as a good stretch at the beginning of a day. Wherever you are, we hope your day is going well.

Between the two camps regarding testing new ideas at the beginning of each new year – the one camp advocating for trying new things, the other camp taking Eeyore’s “What’s the point?” position -, we are firmly in the camp advocating for trying out new things. I emphasize here trying out new things. We are not fans of New Year’s Resolutions. The very term, “resolution,” feels like a lead weight – leading to the even weightier prospect of “failure.”

Simply giving something a try – a gentle approach to change – is more suited to us. And so for the year 2024 I’ve begun (nearly) daily morning meditation. A few minutes of calm stillness, seated/kneeling on a low, cushioned wooden meditation bench, doing my best to empty my mind for a little while, sometimes allowing a selection of Mark Isham’s light orchestral arrangements to play in the background, other times keeping things as quiet as I can, is proving to be refreshing.

Additionally, we’ve both decided to go alcohol (and marijuana) free. It’s been about two months now. So far, so good. Surprising to both of us is that we haven’t missed the beers, wines and spirits that have often been integral to our gustatory and social lives. Of course, there is money to be saved by such a venture. And increasingly the scientific/medical consensus is recognizing that there is no health benefit to alcohol, that even modest consumption appears to be somewhat harmful. In good health but older now, having recently purchased a home (and imagining new art for this home), we’re mindful of both of those factors. But they weren’t the primary motivations behind this decision.

One of the happiest moments in our shared life these past few years occurred toward the very end of our bicycle trek in Hokkaido. We had just pushed up a long hill – a small mountain, actually – and then had the reward of the effortless sunshine summer day warm breeze on our faces coast down the other side.

In that moment, we were transported back to sheer joy of freedom total immersion in a moment childhood memories. Way leads to way. Thought to thought. We embraced and enjoyed experiencing wines and other drinks in that season. But all of that had become a distraction, on several levels. Time to experience something else. It has been an enjoyable two months… completely sober in every moment, and thus, at least for us, living more in the moment, a little closer to the quick of Now.

Sure Looks Like Fun

Photograph of Native Alutiiq girls colorfully reflected on lake ice as they jig for fish on frozen Chignik Lake, Alaska.
Sure Looks Like Fun
With salmon roe for bait and a small jig on the end of their line, these girls were hoping for some of The Lake’s Dolly Varden Char and Pond Smelt. I’m not sure they caught much, but it sure looks like fun.
Chignik Lake, 1/10/17

Loafin’

Close-up portrait of a Sea Otter loafing in the harbor at Seward, Alaska.
Loafin’ Sometimes Sea Otters hanging around in harbors become quite accustomed to humans. For this photograph, I got down on my belly and lowered my arms and camera over the side of a dock. Unable to look into the view finder, I let the camera’s autofocus do its job. They’re awfully cute. Seward Harbor, Alaska, 6/25/13

Spring Angels

Spring Angels
Returning Tundra Swans, flying above the Chignik River – Chignik Lake, March 17, 2017

At first it seemed counterintuitive to process this picture captured on a blue sky spring afternoon as a monochrome image, but I like the moodiness. I don’t know… what do you think?

On A Frozen Sea

Sphere and Pyramid
The Chukchi Sea, April 21, 2012

In late winter and early spring, our Inupiat friends in Point Hope began talking about “breaking trail” across the frozen Chukchi Sea so that snow machines (snow mobiles) and hondas (ATVs) could be driven out to leads (open lanes in the ice) in order to set up whaling camps. “Breaking trail?” Informed by our experiences with freshwater lakes, we wondered, “Can’t you just drive out across a smooth blanket of ice?”

Well, as we learned, a frozen sea isn’t like that. As ice forms and expands and is pushed around by winds and currents, sheets separate (creating leads) and later are pushed together again, the resulting pressure ridges can heave up massive jumbles of jigsaw ice. Some of the chunks are as large as a garage. This was all new to us the first time we hiked out to a camp. In the above photo our eyes are drawn to an otherworldly sphere and pyramid lit blue in pre-dawn light.