Seward Summers: Riding the Denali Express

The Denali Express somewhere between Seward and Anchorage. Hands free travel through a big scoop of Alaska’s iconic scenery. Well, hands free till they’re occupied with a Margarita and a halibut sandwich.

Seward Summers: Spawning Sockeye Salmon… and a simple philosophy to incorporate into your life if you are single but ready not to be single

They truly are this colorful – Sockeye Salmon in peak spawning colors, undisclosed stream, Alaska, 7/20/12

If you are single and want to keep things that way, start by making certain that you have only one really nice place to sit in your house. Have only one good wine glass in your cupboard, one decent dinner plate, one nice place setting. Strive, also, to have single-subject art – a lone person in any photographs, one carved bird alone on a shelf, only of any souvenirs or keepsakes. People will get the message.

If, on the other hand, you wish to communicate to the universe that you are desirous of and ready for a commitment to another person, populate your home in pairs. Two fine bourbon glasses, two equally comfortable places to sit, pairs of items on shelves, paired subjects in paintings, photographs and other artwork, a second bath towel that is every bit as luxurious as the one you yourself use. And when you find a special pair of beautifully crafted chopsticks, purchase a pair for yourself… and a second pair. The mere act of approaching life in this manner will begin to prepare you for an other person.

And people will get the message.

Seward Summers: Red Bear, Texture, Last Summer

Black Bears can vary quite a lot in color. This older male is showing dark auburn. Maybe his last summer… Alaska, 7/3/13

Seward Summers: Nesting Black-legged Kittiwakes – and the metaphor of the bookshelf

Nesting Black-legged Kittiwakes with Yellow Monkeyflower, Resurrection Bay, Gulf of Alaska, June 22, 2013. This is an example of spot-color photography.

We miss our C-dory. A lot. Photographs such as the one above can’t be made without a boat, not to mention the role Gillie played in filling our freezers with tasty halibut, lingcod and rockfish. And for a pleasurable day of leisure, it’s difficult to top fair weather on a calm sea.

While we lived on the Chignik River, we found a shallow-draft welded-aluminum scow to be more practical than the larger fiberglass dory, and so we sold Gillie. Regrets followed. She would be perfect here at our new home on the shores of Prince William Sound. In the peripatetic lives Barbra and I have lived both prior to and during our marriage, with each move we’ve effortlessly let items pass through our lives: beautifully crafted Christmas ornaments, artwork, cherished pieces of furniture, treasured books… even valued fishing tackle. The few items we take pains to keep in our possession mainly come down to cookware, photography gear and fly-fishing equipment. After all, most things are replaceable, and so the metaphor of the bookshelf constitutes an important element of our life philosophy.

The metaphor of the bookshelf is our way of thinking of… things… in a life where we find benefit in living slim and where we appreciate each move as an opportunity to pare down. The idea is to always leave room for the new, and if there is no room, to create it. So rather than fill up shelves with books we’re unlikely to read again, we don’t. Because if your shelves are full, there’s nowhere to add new items to your life – unless you keep adding shelves till your home is crammed full of shelves. It’s lovely to move to a new place and find that you have abundant blank spaces to populate with new treasures. Most things are easy to replace (a first edition copy of A River Runs Through It I allowed to slip through my possession being a noted exception).

Norman Maclean’s classic fly-fishing memoir, Gillie… it’s a short list. Art is replaced by other art. Souvenirs from one place have been let go of to make room for new keepsakes from new places.

We also let go of our aluminum scow when we left the Chignik, and so, taking the optimist’s view and embracing the metaphor of the bookshelf, it appears we now have a space in our life begging to be occupied by a new – or new to us – seaworthy vessel. Something to look forward to.

Seward Summers: Springtime Girl

Young Cow Moose somewhere not far from Seward, May 23, 2013

Seward Summers: Bubble-net Feeding Humpback Whales

Humpback Whales corralling herring in a net of bubbles and then pushing the small fish to the surface for easy feeding. Gull much obliged. Gulf of Alaska, 6/22/12

Moose roast and root vegetables in a bath of mushroom broth, red wine, cream and fresh herbs slow-cooking in the oven, pumpkin cheese cake setting. Lots to be grateful for on this Thanksgiving Day… and every day. Barbra and I hope all is well in your world.

Seward Summers: Sea Shower

Humpback Whale descending on a deep dive, Gulf of Alaska, 7/22/12

Seward Summers: Copper River Dipnetting

Barbra waiting for Sockeye Salmon to hit her net on the mighty Copper River near Chitina, June 22, 2012.

Iconic Alaska. Hike in along a canyon trail, then down a steep, more narrow trail to water’s edge. The river’s chalky, clay-colored glacial till reveals nothing. But the fish are there. Upwards of a million Sockeyes will ascend the Copper, and that’s after the commercial fishing fleet has taken a similar number from the sea near the river’s mouth. Armed with a net on a big hoop attached to a 15-foot pole, you find a fishable perch along the canyon wall and ease the net into an eddy. If you’ve timed it right, huge schools of fish are passing in front of you within feet of the shoreline. It doesn’t take long till you feel the morning’s first solid thump as a Red hits the net. If you’ve got the patience and don’t pull in right away, you might feel another thump, and then another – three fish in one scoop. And you feel a connection with people who have been fishing for salmon this way for thousands of years… grateful that there’s a place where it can still be done, not another person in sight except for the companion you’ve hiked in with. You get the feeling this isn’t going to last… which makes you appreciate it all the more. Iconic Alaska.

Heading Home: Grizzly Bear Crossing Harding Ice Field

Hard to say where this bear, a mere dot on this icefield, was coming from. Somewhere across that vastness, heading toward Exit Glacier, down to salmon rivers. To a place I suppose he thinks of as home. 6/13/2011

The hike to Harding Icefield is a little over four miles up a mountain trail, more or less following a ridge above Exit Glacier. Patches of snow, wildflower meadows, birds, bears, maybe other wildlife along the way. There are many vast landscapes in Alaska. The view out over the Harding Icefield, the great mother ice lake that feeds Exit and dozens other glaciers is… otherworldly. We were on a rock outcrop overlooking part of Harding’s eleven hundred square miles. I was preoccupied with alpine flowers when Barbra noticed a trail across the snow-covered ice. It didn’t make sense. Till we spotted the bear.

Moving on from the photos we took in Mongolia, I’m now going through “Alaska Summers.” Some of these catalogues predate our trip to Mongolia. As I come upon images I really like – such as the above composition – I’ll share them here and on Instagram. jackdonachy, if you’re interested in following there. I also put most of these photos on Facebook – Barbrajack.

I like this photograph for the way it recalls a quote by Bob Dylan that describes Barbra, and me, and maybe this bear, and maybe you.

I was born very far from where I’m supposed to be, and so, I’m on my way home

On a Frozen Sea

On a Frozen Sea, the two of us, April 14, 2013, near Point Hope, Alaska. This is about two miles from the village of Point Hope on a trail broken through huge chunks of ice, as seen, and marked here with a hook. Sea ice here is several feet thick – safe enough, but several of our local friends had stories about getting temporarily stranded when the ice they were on ice broke free from the main sheet. The gun is a precaution against Polar Bears.

I’ve enjoyed going back through photographs from our four years in Arctic Alaska. Although there are a number of additional pictures I’m reasonably happy with, the truth is that most of the images we made in those years constitute memories rather than art. As self-taught photographers, we still had a lot to learn about light, and how cameras interpret light, and composition, and optimal camera settings, lens choices and technique. Moreover, the images we made in those early days have a somewhat random feel about them as we hadn’t yet developed a vision for how we wanted to shoot and what we wanted to make images of… what stories we wanted to tell. We’d love to go back and revisit those scenes, and from time to time we discuss the possibility… but as Frost warned, way leads to way.

When we left Point Hope in the spring of 2014, we traveled to Mongolia where we lived for the following two years. We’re looking forward now to revisiting that collection. So, we hope to see you “in Mongolia!” JD