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About Jack & Barbra Donachy

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

Seward Yacht Club – Swimming Pools, Movie Stars

Seward’s small boat harbor viewed from the second floor balcony of the William H. Seward Yacht Club.

For either one of us, if, back when we were in our teens or twenties and trying to figure out life, someone had told us we’d own a blue water capable sailboat and belong to a yacht club, we’d have thought to ourselves, “Sure. Can I have some of whatever you’re smoking?”

But the Seward Yacht Club fits. Upon becoming members, we were happy to set aside any preconceived notions about “yacht” owners and to simply fall in with a group of really great (generous, hard-working, helpful, welcoming) people who are bound together by a love of boats and water.

Bikes and the live-aboard lifestyle often go together – this one is parked at the Seward yacht club. It’s nice to belong to a club where the dandelions are left to grow.

In addition to camaraderie, the club provides its members and their guests with showers, a nice kitchen in which to cook a meal, and a fairly extensive library on things nautical.

The small boat harbor at Seward mirrors the yacht club. Boats of all sizes are docked here. A lot of them belong to working fisherman – both guides and commercial fishermen. A lot of the boats belong to people who just plain like water and boats and fishing and have worked hard and been careful with their money, anticipating the day when they could own a boat. It doesn’t seem to matter who you are, where you come from, what kind of boat you have, or what you do on it. People pass each other and most offer a friendly greeting. People take care of their own boats and keep an eye on their neighbors’. It’s a community. Reminds me of the best parts of the small town in western Pennsylvania where I grew up.

Wish there were more places like it.

Getting Wasted on Cheap Vodka

“Higher! Lift it higher!” Barbra strains to hoist a lingcod of about 30 pounds that fell to a jig in 100 feet of water. 

Six-thirty AM and virtually no wind. Gaff – check. Rods rigged and ready – check. Plenty of knife jigs, lead-heads, twister tails – check. A fifth of cheap vodka in a plastic bottle…

Check.

It was our friend Jerry’s last day in Seward, and he had just enough time for a quick out-and-back morning trip. We were looking for his first-ever halibut, along with whatever else might be interested in our jigs.

With Barbra at the helm of our C-Dory, cruising between 15 and 20 knots over calm seas it took us about an hour to get to a place we knew would offer a chance to pick up halibut without running all the way out into the Gulf of Alaska.

Sea birds, vast shoals of herring, porpoises, seals and off in the distance the misty spout of a whale – all against a dramatic Alaskan background of green-sloped, snow-shouldered mountains, glaciers and  rugged, rocky – make any trip out onto the bay a good one.

We got a few fish, too. Jerry nailed his first-ever halibut (not to mention a 50-pound-class lingcod – also a first), Barbra got her hands on her first 30-pound lingcod, and I hooked another nice halibut. In three hours of fishing, we caught maybe half-a-dozen lings, the halibut, Pacific cod, greenling, a brilliantly colored sculpin and over a dozen assorted rockfish including blacks, yelloweye, quillbacks, and a beautifully marked tiger.

We kept a yelloweye, the tiger (photo on the left), and a halibut.

Since the lings have to be released (the season doesn’t open till July 1, and it is permanently closed within Resurrection Bay), the only one we pulled out of the water for a quick photo was Barbra’s 30-pounder.

But she brought an even larger fish to the boat that day, and the way she caught it was a first for us – one that gave new meaning to the exclamation “Color!” fishermen often call out when they get the first glimpse of a fish coming up from the depths.

Laid across the mouth of one of the most beautifully marked lings we’ve ever seen – a 40 pounder with striking, amber-brown spots – was a bright orange yelloweye rockfish! The jig hook was planted firmly in the yelloweye’s mouth, but had no purchase on the lingcod. The ling’s jaws were simply clamped down on its meal – and  it was giving every bit as good of a fight  as if it had been securely hooked.

We released several nice black rockfish, such as this one Jerry caught.

I knew, based on reading about events like this, that as long as we didn’t raise the ling’s head above water, he’d continue to hold onto the rockfish like a dog playing tug-of-war with a rope. So what did I do? I grabbed Barbra’s leader and lifted the ling’s head above water, causing it to instantly drop the yelloweye and sink back into the depths. Oops…

We thus missed a chance for a really great photo – the bright orange of the yelloweye lying lengthwise across the jaws of a massive lingcod. Ahh… next time!

Interestingly enough, the yelloweye didn’t look particularly damaged. When we released it, it scurried straight for the bottom.

And the vodka?

Jerry and I had read about fishermen using cheap booze – not a .22 rifle, not a .410 shotgun, not a billy – cheap booze to subdue fish. Halibut are notorious for going crazy once they’re on the deck of a boat. They’ve been known to bust up tackle, wreck coolers and even injure their captors. But with a shot or two of alcohol on their gills…

When Jerry got his fish up on the surface, I gaffed it right behind the cheek and pulled its head up out of water. As soon as the fish opened its mouth, Jerry poured a couple shots of vodka down its hatch. The affect was amazing. The fish slumped like an overserved patron passing out on a bar, and we slid it over the gunwale without a struggle . Once we had it on the deck of the C-Dory, we splashed its gills with another shot of vodka for good measure and then hung it over the side of the boat to bleed it out.

Easiest time of it I’ve ever had with a halibut.

Even the little fish are cool: Barbra with a brilliantly marked Pacific sculpin that tried to eat a jig nearly as large as itself.

Minke Whales

Quintessential Alaska – a whale blows close to moss and fern covered rocks in Resurrection Bay. The water is hundreds of feet deep near shore here – this slope face rises almost vertically to snow-coverd peaks.

Coming back from a fishing excursion the other morning, we spotted a pair of whales near shore, off our forward port (left) quarter. They appeared to be in no hurry and so we, too, slowed down to spend some time watching them. Here and there we noticed telltale herring flipping on the surface – no doubt the reason the whales were in so close to shore. The steep banks would make the perfect place to corral a meal.

Smooth back, pronounce fin and white markings on the side indicate a minke whale – a member of the rorqual whale group. Rorquals feed by opening their massive, expandable mouths and straining small fish, shrimp, krill and other food through baleen. 

Although we kept a fair distance, at one point the whales disappeared. We thought they’d sounded and left the area until suddenly they both came exploding out of the sea on our starboard side. Herring seemed to be flying in attempts to escape the whales’ massive jaws. As whales go, minkes are small, but they still average nearly 30 feet and 10 tons – large enough to reduce a 22-foot boat like ours to fiberglass splinters. This was our first time to see whales so close, let alone lunge-feeding, and rather than snap photos all we could do was watch, jaws agape, exclaiming “Oooo!”

This photo (taken with a Nikon DX 18-55 lens) captures the blowhole and the distinctive white markings of a minke. 

We lingered, hoping to capture a repeat feeding lunge on film. And then it happened.

If you look closely, you can see a couple of herring in the spray around this minke whale’s head.

Suddenly the surface of the water began to bubble with jumping herring, and then, as if out of nowhere, a huge head came exploding out of the sea. Fortunately Barbra had the presence of mind to snap photos.

By the early 1900’s, after the world’s whaling fleets had mined most of the large whales out of the ocean, countries such as Norway and Japan, which continued whaling, turned their attention to smaller whales such as minkes. They’re still being hunted, but they remain locally common, and overall populations appear to be stable. Minkes can be found throughout the world’s oceans. An excellent field guide to Northern Pacific whales is Whales and Other Marine Mammals of British Columbia and Alaska, by Tamara Eder.

The Sky Over Resurrection Bay and Thoughts from Thoreau

At the end of a warm day, the sun slips down behind the mountains overlooking Resurrection Bay, and even before we notice the light dimming, we can feel the warmth leaving our home in our sailboat on the bay.

Barbra took these photos a few nights ago as we were running home from an evening of fishing of Resurrection Bay, Alaska.

“The surface of the earth is soft and impressible by the feet of men; and so with the paths which the mind travels. How worn and dusty, then, must be the highways of the world, how deep the ruts of tradition and conformity! I did not wish to take a cabin passage, but rather to go before the mast and on the deck of the world, for there I could best see the moonlight amid the mountains.”  Henry Thoreau in Walden

“Every path but your own is the path of fate. Keep on your own track, then.” Henry Thoreau in Walden

Dall’s Porpoises – Tasmanian Devils of the Northern Pacific

You might see a pod of them off in the distance, plowing up water in plumes of bubbles and spray, arcing, crossing each others’ paths, zipping like mad across the sea’s surface. As they speed toward your boat, you can almost hear the sound effects that accompany the Tasmanian Devil’s entrance in the Warner Brothers Cartoons. “Dall’s Porpoises!”

At an average length of 6 feet (1.8 m) and distinctively marked in black and white, they look like miniature versions of Orcas. And they love small boats. On any given outing here in Resurrection Bay, you can almost count on a group of these speedsters showing up around your bow. And since they seem to prefer to play around boats that are running fairly slowly, they don’t discriminate between powerboats and sailboats.

Dall’s porpoises frequently come right alongside small boats, seeming to use the vessels as objects to play around and to race against. Here a group of them are cutting back and forth beneath our C-Dory.

Strictly speaking, Dall’s porpoises don’t really “porpoise.” They quickly surface, throwing up rooster tails of spray as they do, take a quick breath and keep on swimming. Fast. Photographing them is a matter of guessing where they’ll show up next and snapping shots until they do.

Like other dolphins and porpoises, Dall’s have teeth. They feed on small fish, such as herring. We’ve noticed that when we’re trolling for salmon, right about the time we spot Dall’s, our rods often start arcing and our reels start singing – probably because both the porpoises and the salmon are keying on herring.

Although groups typically contain a handful of individuals, there are times when they gather by the thousands. They roam both nearshore and offshore waters in the Northern Pacific. Unfortunately, although they are still common, hunting (several countries take an average of 10’s of thousands annually – an unsustainable number) and fatal encounters with fishing nets are reducing their numbers.

A good place to read more is in the book Whales and other Marine Mammals of British Columbia and Alaska, by Tamara Eder.

Yelloweye Rockfish Benedict: Alaskan Breakfast of Champions

Freshly cracked pepper, sea salt and maybe a dash of soy sauce are all the seasoning freshly caught yelloweye want. Topped with hollandaise sauce and served on pan-toasted English muffins with sides of thick bacon, summer squash, ruby red grapefruit and ruby red mimosas, this is the kind of breakfast that makes you happy you’re a fisherman – or married to one! 

Like single malt Scotch and country drives in autumn, when it comes to table fare there are no bad rockfish. But within genus Sebastes, some cook up better than others. In Japan, small but tasty mebaru (Sebastes inermis) are among the most highly prized fish wherever they are found. Here in Alaska, yelloweye (Sebastes ruberrimus), which can grow to over 30 inches (80 centimeters) and 20 pounds (9 kilograms) are the stars. The sweet, delicately flavored meat puffs up slightly when cooked and flakes off in large, firm chunks for a taste and texture that is unparalleled among rockfish.

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When preparing fillets this way, a good rule of thumb is nine minutes per one inch of thickness, thus a fillet one inch thick will be cooked for about nine minutes.

I pan toast English muffins (or any other toast) by using about three parts olive oil to one part butter (or no butter at all) over low to medium-low heat in a heavy frying pan. Heat the oil, add the bread, toast, flip and do the other side. This produces tasty toast, and you can do it in any kitchen, over a Coleman stove, or in a galley.

Yelloweye Rockfish Benedict

Ingredients:

  • 1 rockfish fillet about 3/4 lb to 1 lb, cut in half to serve 2 people. We generally prefer our fillets scaled, skin on. (Skin removed is fine.)
  • salt
  • pepper
  • soy sauce (optional)
  • olive oil
  • 3 egg yolks
  • 4 tbsp butter
  • 1 tbsp lemon juice
  • healthy pinch or two of cayenne pepper (or mildly fiery chili-based seasoning such as the Southwestern rubs made by Penzys or Dean & Deluca)
  • 2 English muffins, sliced in half, toasted

Directions:

For Hollandaise:

  1. Melt butter in a small pan over low heat.
  2. Set up a double boiler by putting some water in a pot and bring it to boil. In a smaller pot, place egg yolks and lemon juice. Place this smaller pan in the larger pot, but not in the water. The steam will heat the smaller pot.
  3. Vigorously whisk the egg and lemon mixture until it increases in volume.
  4. Slowly drizzle the melted butter into the whisked egg mixture, add a pinch of slat, and continue to whisk until everything is blended.
  5. Set aside. This mixture can be warmed again, if necessary. If it’s too thick, whisk in a few drops of water. Too thin, cook more, being sure to continue whisking/stirring.

To cook the rockfish:

  1. Rinse the fillets, pat dry with paper towels, and place on a cutting board, skin side down. Add freshly cracked pepper and sea salt and set aside.
  2. In a skillet large enough to hold the fillets so that they don’t touch, place enough olive oil to liberally cover the bottom of the pan and heat over medium-low heat.
  3. When the oil is hot enough to make the fish sizzle, add the fillets skin side down. Cook for 5 minutes.
  4. Turn the fillets and sprinkle with salt and freshly cracked pepper. Add about 1/2 tablespoon of soy sauce (optional) and continue cooking for 4 minutes.

To serve:

Place toasted English muffins on plates, place the fillets on the muffins, and spoon on the Hollandaise. Sprinkle on a dusting of cayenne pepper or a similarly fiery pepper-based rub. Serve with seasonal vegetables.  We enjoyed this meal with mimosas made with freshly-squeezed ruby red grapefruit.

Under Pressure: Delicious, Fast, Green Cooking

Pressure cooking is new to us, but we’re fast becoming converts. We made this one-pot-meal of two large pork chops, Peruvian potatoes and onions in about half the time the same meal would have taken in frying pan. In addition to cutting cooking time, pressure cooking requires less fuel than traditional methods.


Our first foray into pressure cooking involved one of our breakfast staples: steel cut oats. This is a new food for us, and now that we know what they are, it’s been a little tough to go back to quick rolled oats. But the time required is a deal-breaker on workdays. From start to finish, it takes about 35 minutes to cook up a couple servings of steel cut oats.

Enter the pressure cooker. These are not at all like crock pots or slow cookers – just the opposite. By sealing in steam pressure, these pans and pots speed up cooking time. As pressure rises, so does heat inside the pan. After some trial and error, I now have the preparation time for steel cut oats cut down to 17 minutes – and I think I may be able to bring the time down even further. Not only is the time cut in half, so is fuel consumption. Once the cooker is pressurized, the cooking flame can be cut back to low or even turned off altogether for up to 70% fuel savings over traditional cooking methods.

Also, since very little steam escapes during the cooking process, less water is required. This could prove to be valuable when sailing or boondocking. Less oil or cooking fat is required, too, and cooked under pressure, meats and certain vegetables that can be a little tough come out tender without being overcooked.

Years ago, I had heard that pressure cooking could be dangerous. Makes sense: hot steam, very high temperatures, pressure. I had an image of pan lids rocketing through kitchen ceilings. But whatever the risks involved with this cooking method may have been in the past, modern pressure cookers have addressed them. We purchased a two-and-a-half quart pan made by Kuhn Rikon, a Swiss company known for quality cookware. Engineered with safety in mind, the pan is made from heavy gauge stainless steel and features multiple pressure release systems to prevent over-pressurizing.

The real test came the other night when I attempted a one-pan meal for the two of us. I had two nice pork chops, some small red, white and purple Peruvian potatoes, and half a sweet onion chopped coarse. I seasoned all this with good old salt and pepper, heated a little olive oil over high heat in the pressure cooker, browned the chops for a minute on each side and then added a quarter cup of water (for steam). Then the potatoes and onions went in, I locked the lid in place, and…

Voila!

Seven minutes later we had a beautifully cooked meal. The meat was cooked through and juicy, the potatoes were just right, and we had just one pan to clean up! (And nothing was stuck to the pan.)

The meat lacked the crispy outer texture straight pan-fyring gives, but searing the meat prior to pressurizing it seemed to seal it well enough. Once pressure had built in the pan, I was able to lower the flame to low and then to turn off the heat altogether, so I’m guessing I used only two-thirds to one-half the propane I’d have used had I prepared the meal in a frying pan.

Small House Living: Island Packet 350 Interior

Below and behind the cushions of this settee is tons of storage space. The settee itself can be reconfigured to make a comfortable twin-sized bed. Aft of the settee (to the right) is a U-shaped galley complete with double basin sink, two burner stove, a deep cooler, and more storage space.

An element of campers and boats that fascinates us is how they are put together inside. The miniature stoves and heaters, ingeniously built-in storage spaces, cabinet doors that cleverly fold out into full-sized tables, and settees that work like jigsaw puzzles to convert into beds are perfect marriages of ingenuity meeting practicality. More than that, in many instances boat and camper interiors are beautiful, replete with richly textured wood, stainless steel and brass, and finely crafted finishing touches.

Below, the salon looking forward, on the left with the table up, on the right with the table down. The table has a folding leaf which, when opened, allows the port (left) settee to be used as dining seating as well. (Click on photos for larger view.)

Before we got into boats and campers, we had been researching small-house design. In fact, our craftsman-style bungalow in California, built in 1908, in many ways seems to have anticipated the small-house movement. With just 1,200 square feet of living space and features such as a space-saving Jack-and-Jill bathroom and built-in custom-crafted cabinetry, the E Street house is right in step with the small-house philosophy.

Bandon’s head has a porthole and skylight for plenty of natural lighting, and there’s ample elbow room. Forward (to the left) is a shower head. Separate doors alow for access from both the forward stateroom and the main salon.

One benefit of living in a relatively small space is that they don’t require much energy to heat up, cool off, or light. For example, a rooftop solar panel provides almost all the electrical energy we need in our camper, and we anticipate that once we install solar panels onboard Bandon and change the incandescent lighting over to LED, we’ll be able to live off the grid in our boat.

Above: The forward cabin features a comfortable full-size bed, a hanging locker, three cupboards, and additional storage in holds beneath the bed. Below: The aft cabin features another double bed and similar storage.

Another happy consequence of downsizing is that it has prompted us to examine how much stuff we acquire, hold onto and end up having to store or dust. We’ve discovered that as we pare away material possessions, the things we do have tend to better fit our lives in terms of form and function; with limited amounts of shelves, closets, cupboards and drawers, we do our best to only bring things into our lives that are particularly useful, durable, interesting or beautiful, whether the item is a piece of art, a set of dishes, or a cheese grater.

Above: Bandon’s galley is a U-shape favored by many sailors, providing a tight configuration where the cook can wedge in a keep the crew fed in rolling seas. A 100-gallon water tank provides water by both an electric pump and a hand pump. The two-burner stove runs on propane. Aft (to the right) is a deep ice chest accessed through the countertop. Below right: Dinner plates and bowls stay secure in purpose-build slotted cupboards.

How much space is enough is, of course, a personal matter. Onboard Bandon, we don’t have large clothing wardrobes or a rack full of pots and pans, and when we finish reading a book, it’ll go to friends or be sold back to the bookstore. Bandon has no TV, we removed the microwave oven, and we do our laundry at the local laundromat. When we want to watch a TV show or movie, we download it onto our computer or pop in a disc; microwave ovens haven’t been part of our kitchen for many years now; and our local laundromat is a cheerful place in town where we can browse shops or catch up on reading while taking care of laundry.

We’ve been pleased to note how little fuel, electricity and water we’re consuming. Early experiments with our new pressure cooker indicate that we will be able to cut water and fuel use even further.

Zaru Soba with Alaskan Scallops and Shrimp

Zaru soba (chilled buckwheat noodles) dressed up with fresh seafood makes for a quick but elegant meal. 


A challenge inherent to preparing meals onboard a boat or in a camper is that the stovetops tend to be small, and while this doesn’t necessitate limiting preparation to one or two pans, it steers a cook in that direction. Meals featuring something on a bed of noodles really shine, and one of our favorite types of noodles are soba – which is the Japanese word for buckwheat. Being thin, soba cooks quickly, and since zaru soba is served chilled, it’s no problem to rinse the noodles and set them aside while other food is prepared.

In the past, I’ve made this dish with salmon, halibut and rockfish. On this more recent occasion, I had large Alaskan scallops and fresh Alaskan shrimp on hand. Instead of serving the dish on traditional bamboo (the origin of the word zaru), I opted for pasta bowls.

Zaru Soba with Alaskan Scallops and Shrimp

Ingredients:

  • soba for two people
  • 1/4 pound shrimp, peeled
  • 1/4 pound sea scallops
  • 1/2 cup tsuyu (a dipping sauce available in the Asian section of most grocery stores). Divide into equal parts.
  • 1 sheet of nori (dried seaweed), cut into thin strips
  • 1/4 cup dry sherry or sake
  • olive oil
  • salt
  • 1/2 tbsp Thai seasoning
  • 1 tbsp fresh tarragon chopped course or 1 tsp dried tarragon (optional)
  • 1 green onions, sliced thin

Directions:

  1. Place scallops and shrimp in a mixing bowl. Add Thai seasoning and tarragon and toss together. Set aside.
  2. Boil soba according to the directions on the package. I use much less water than most directions call for and the noodles come out fine, but do salt the water.
  3. When the noodles are finished, pour them into a colander to drain and then rinse with cold water.
  4. Place noodles in pasta bowls. Add tsuyu to each bowl, tossing the noodles in the sauce.
  5. Heat a little olive oil in a large frying pan over medium heat. When oil is hot, add the seasoned scallops and shrimp. Add sherry or sake. Cook for about 1 minute, using a spatula to briskly stir and turn seafood.
  6. Place seafood on noodles. Top with sliced green onions and nori strips and serve. Alternatively, the cooked seafood can be chilled prior to adding to the noodles.

This dish and its variations has become a family favorite. It pairs beautifully with a Willamette Valley Pinot Gris or a crisp Sauvignon Blanc.

Let there be Fire

The first order of business before moving aboard Bandon was getting the heat going. That meant figuring out the boat’s Dickinson diesel heater – which proved to be no problem. Our Dickinson Newport uses fuel sparingly, burns clean, and provides plenty of warmth for our 35-foot boat. 

Although it’s warmed up a bit, last week nighttime temperatures were still dipping into the high 30’s and low 40’s. Cold. And although the cabin traps solar heat, as soon as the sun dips below the mountains surrounding Resurrection Bay, it gets pretty chilly.

We’d never used a diesel heater before, but Barbra jumped right in and had it figured out in short order. We soon discovered that in addition to warming up the cabin, the heater does a good job keeping it dry.

Cool sailing ship on the heater – no idea regarding the story behind it. 

It’s like having a miniature fireplace onboard – cozy and downright romantic. And there’s just enough room on top of the heater to, say, cook a couple of sweet potatoes or get a small kettle of water ready for tea.

In business since 1932, the Dickinson company is located in Surrey, British Columbia. Handmade, Dickinson products are respected for their reliability and ruggedness.