Tufted Puffins, a Name Change and Best Wishes for 2013

Posted on December 25, 2012 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

Unmistakable with their toucan-like bright orange beaks and combed back white tufts of head feathers, tufted puffins (Fratercula cirrhata) are among Alaska’s most familiar ambassadors.

When we began this blog a little over two years ago, it was for ourselves. The blog was to be a place to catalogue our recipes and keep a photographic record of our travels and adventures. And so we named it Frozen Moments and didn’t think too much about it. It seemed an appropriate name for a blog where photographs are highlighted (frozen moments) and especially so since our home nine months of the year is in Arctic Alaska (frozen months).

But as we got more into it, we discovered that Frozen Moments was a little too obvious. Others were already using the name. We realized we’d eventually want to make a change. CutterLight has its origins in two sources. Cutter derives from our summer home in Seward – our cutter-rigged sailboat. To us, the term evokes images not just of sailing, but of travel and adventure in general, as well as a spirit of being willing to learn and experience new things.

Light, too, holds multiple meanings for us. There is of course the “light” which all photographers are concerned with. As our skills and interest in photography grow, we are finding that we are becoming, inevitably perhaps, obsessed with light. It permeates our world now in ways it never did before, and this newfound awareness affects everything from the way we watch movies to how we perceive the world around us to how we deal with the deceptively elusive basic elements of photography.

But Light holds a second meaning – one which is perhaps even more central to our lives. As we move forward toward fulfilling our goals as writers, photographers and sailors, we have pared away much of what we once considered necessary. Not much fits on a 35-foot sailboat. A succession of yard sales and donations to thrift shops allowed us to part with most of our possessions before we moved to Alaska three years ago. Since then, every new item we add to our lives is carefully evaluated for the value it brings in terms of utility and pleasure. Few items make the cut. We are moving forward with a life that feels lighter yet stronger. It is a wonderful feeling.

Looking out over lower Cook Inlet from the bluffs above Homer, Alaska.

As we look back on 2012, it is with a deep sense of appreciation. Many new friends came into our lives this year, and we also were fortunate to have had some really special reconnections with people from our former lives. We are happy, too, that our blog is finding an appreciative audience. We wish one and all fair winds and following seas in the coming year.

Jack and Barbra Donachy

The Light before the Fire (First Sea Ice, Point Hope)

Posted on November 29, 2012 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

There’s not much sun now –

three hours or so from dawn to dusk

and in those three hours, the sun doesn’t climb very high

so that on clear days the world is bathed

in soft pink and lavender and gold

the horizon rimmed in turquoise

beneath a pale sky

until one day the wind shifts,

and gathers sheets of ice

already formed at sea,

and pushes the ice to shore

where it gathers the light,

and you forget about the things you thought you missed…

the life you left behind

in that moment

before the sun sinks to the ice-covered sea

and everything turns to fire

The Night Sky at Point Hope (A Whaler to His Son)

Posted on November 18, 2012 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

The northern lights have been out nearly every night lately. Here they frame two umiak – seal skin boats used for the spring whale hunts.

A Whaler to his Son

This poem is

an empty sigluaq

a seal skin boat

a lookout camp

on a new lead

This poem is

your grandfather’s parka

a snow squall on the horizon

a polar bear’s track

imprinted in the snow

This poem is

a fluke flipped and sounding

in a silk-white wake

like stars

washed over the Chukchi

This poem is

our village

carved like scrimshaw

on an ivory dawn

the dim Arctic sun

small and perfect

as a bowhead’s eye.

*A sigluaq is an ice cellar dug into the tundra used to store whale meat (and other meat)

Jiro Dreams of Sushi: A Philosophy of Life and Sushi

Posted on November 17, 2012 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

Yanagiba (sushi knife), ohashi (chopsticks) properly resting on an ivory spotted seal hashioki, and David Gelb’s documentary of world-renowned sushi chef Jiro Ono. Let the feast begin.

The shots of sushi will wow you. Segments depicting 85-year-old Jiro Ono magically transforming rice and fish into pieces of art that are at once too beautiful to be eaten and yet must be eaten will mesmerize you. The manner in which he and his 51-year-old son run Sukiayabashi Jiro, a 10-seat sushi restaurant in the underground subway system in Tokyo’s ritzy Ginza District will, perhaps, prompt you to make subtle (or not so subtle) changes in the way you run your own kitchen. At the very least, you are likely to come away from the film with a heightened appreciation of tamagoyaki – the grilled egg dish frequently served on nigiri sushi menus. Sukiabashi Jiro is the only sushi restaurant in the world to earn Michelin’s top rating – the coveted three stars. The simple definition of a three-star restaurant is this: a restaurant that by itself makes a trip to that country worthwhile.

As a self-taught chef, as a father, as a person who is seeking to perfect my own path in life, and as one who lived in Japan for nine years and came to deeply appreciate the Japanese sensibility toward life, this film profoundly moved me. Jiro Ono embodies the characteristics of the shokunin – a master craftsman or artisan who, while possessing superb technical skills in his field, is also aware of his responsibility to model an honorable life and to look out for the welfare of others. In the film, Masahiro Yamamoto, one of Japan’s leading food critics, identifies the five attributes of a great chef. These attributes are no doubt valued by all shokunin.

1. A serious attitude toward one’s work

2. Aspiration to improve – to strive for perfection

3. Cleanliness (which includes a proper order in one’s life and work)

4. Lead rather than collaborate

5. Bring passion to one’s work, (and through that passion to discover moments of ecstasy)

I’m going to add a sixth element to Yamamoto’s list. If Jiro’s life is about striving for perfection, the question is begged, “Perfection to what end?” To what purpose are the above five attributes?

It is this: They are all aimed toward providing others with an ultimate experience. Jiro dreams of sushi, yes. But what he really dreams of is providing his customers with a perfect dining experience. That is the sixth attribute: The desire to provide others with a penultimate experience.

Some of these attributes are, perhaps, antithetical to current western thinking. Therein lies the core of the criticisms of this film. Aren’t we supposed to value collaboration? Is the emphasis on cleanliness really so important? Is Jiro truly interested in others, or is he merely a shallow, self-inflated ego with no meaningful connection to other human beings – including his wife and his two sons? Doesn’t taking one’s work too seriously lead to imbalance in life?

I think this much is fair to observe: The path Jiro Ono has chosen in life is not a path that would suit everyone. But it is a path I admire. In the director’s cut, it is mentioned that a regret is that Jiro’s wife was unable to be in the film. This seems to be owing to the health of a woman in her 80’s, not about a failed partnership. His sons are both key players in the film, and speak of their father with honor, respect and love. They have both chosen to follow in his line of work, to embrace his teaching and have become highly respected sushi chefs in their own right. In turn, Jiro speaks with pride and admiration of both of his sons. As a father, I can very much relate to Jiro’s philosophy regarding child-rearing. You spend your life teaching and guiding, and in the end you hope a good bit of it takes root. In both of Jiro’s sons, his teaching did stick, his guidance payed off, and because his sons worked for many years in his restaurant, he ultimately spent more time with them than most fathers ever spend with their children.

As to taking one’s work too seriously and carving out one’s own path rather than collaborating, I grew up in a family wherein, not just in my nuclear family but in all the uncles and aunts in my extended family, the life philosophy most frequently espoused was an admonition to not take work (or anything else) too seriously. It was a philosophy that did not work for me, and ultimately inspired an opposing philosophy.

At the age of 4o, I began the long, sometimes arduous, deeply satisfying process of remaking my life. Part of the remaking has been rooted in a newfound freedom – a self-given permission to pursue life with renewed passion, dedication and a commitment to honor and excellence. As I move forward with this life as a sailor, chef, writer, photographer, father and husband, this film that so eloquently captures the life and spirt of a true shokunin resonates.

Alaska: Northern Lights in the Big Point Hope Sky

Posted on November 13, 2012 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

Named for the Roman Goddess of dawn, Aurora, and the Greek word for north wind, Boreas, Aurora Borealis events originate with the sun and are carried to Earth on solar winds.

Notice the seal skin boats in front of the snow fence in this photo looking northwest along the lagoon at Point Hope. The most common color for Northern Lights is green – whitish green on nights of weak activity. Yellows, pinks, reds and purples are less common. Any color in the night sky is a thrill.

We have a phone tree set up so we can let each other know when the lights are out in force. When our phone woke us just after five AM this morning, we didn’t even pick up. We threw on warm clothes and coats (the windchill was below zero degrees Fahrenheit) put together the camera and tripod, and headed out the door.

We walked away from the town’s lights, to the darkness near the lagoon, and set up. We took these shots with a 15 second exposure. When the lights are active, they move, constantly changing shape and color.

A Ghost Town, Grizzlies, and the Best Fish and Chips Anywhere

Posted on November 4, 2012 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

Patrolling Hyder, Alaska’s Fish Creek like she owns it, 600-pound Monica fattens up on a freshly subdued chum salmon.

With a population of fewer than 100 residents, Hyder, Alaska, bills itself as “The Friendliest Ghost Town in Alaska.” The town is one of those gems that is far enough off the beaten path to still be something of a secret, known mainly to the relatively few people who travel the Cassiar Highway in western British Columbia. Many of these travelers are on their way to or from Alaska, and not even all of these travelers are aware of what Hyder offers.

A prize for any grizzly, this beautifully marked chum salmon makes its way up the air-clear water of Fish Creek.

In addition to rare opportunities to watch and photograph grizzlies up close from a safe vantage point (an elevated viewing deck runs along a short portion of Fish Creek), Hyder boasts what is surely one of the world’s most unusual destination restaurants. We’ve written about the Seafood Express in a previous post. Established in 1998, the school bus Jim and Diana Simpson converted into a restaurant continues to turn out the very best fish and chips we’ve ever had. Even when the salmon and bears aren’t in, the restaurant alone makes taking the turnoff to Hyder worthwhile. Jim, a fisherman by trade, supplies the fresh salmon, halibut, shrimp and prawns Diana magically transforms into perfectly crispy, golden-brown, airily light creations that seem to disappear in one’s mouth. Complimented by a bottle of Alaskan Amber Ale, lingering over a meal there is the perfect way to relax after a morning of nature watching while Rufous Hummingbirds trill musically from the nearby spruce and fir forest.

A female common merganser (Mergus merganser) leads her brood of chicks (next photo) down Fish Creek’s crystalline currents.

Merganser chicks scurry to keep up with their mother. This type of duck typically nests in tree cavities near water. They feed on small fish, insects and (I’m guessing) salmon eggs when they can find them.

Since 1998, the Seafood Express has been serving up gourmet-quality fish and chips.

The viewing platform on Fish Creek provides one of the very few places in North America where people can routinely and safely view wild grizzlies from a fairly close distance. The platform is manned by knowledgable U. S. Forest Service Rangers. The best viewing is from late July through September.

A trip to Alaska through British Columbia by car, camper or motorhome is a trip of a lifetime. If your route takes you along the Cassiar Highway, Hyder should be a “must visit” destination!

For more, click here to see our iReport on CNN.

Tikigaq Cemetery

Posted on September 14, 2012 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

Weathered jawbones of bowhead whales form a fence around the cemetery in Tikigaq, (Point Hope) Alaska).

After four consecutive weeks of daily rain – a precipitation rate almost unheard of in this semi-arid region of the Arctic – we’ve had several days of brilliant sunshine. The past three mornings, the gravel that makes up the ground here in Point Hope has been hard underfoot. Frost. The cloudberries are over, and the frost means it’s time to go pick cranberries. In the old days, the dead were not buried. “The land all around was our graveyard,” I was told by one of the people of the village. But when the missionaries came, they told the people of the village that the dead must be buried. And so this cemetery was created.

Today while Barbra and I were eating lunch, we saw a snowy owl outside my classroom window. Last week a brown bear – a grizzly – passed by the edge of town. This might be a good weekend to get up early and walk up the beach in hopes of seeing a walrus.

Leaving Seward, 2012

Posted on September 2, 2012 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

Rainbow over Cook Inlet – this photo was taken the second week of August, our last week in Seward.

For us, our summer in Seward came to an end in early August. Our sailboat, Bandon, is sitting on the hard with a fresh coat of bottom paint. We are already counting the days till next May when we’ll move back aboard.

Below: There are days on the Kenai Peninsula when it looks and even feels like we could be in Hawaii or some South Pacific paradise. As it is, we are in a paradise – Alaska. We can’t imagine a better place to cut our teeth as sailors than in Seward.

Sandhill Cranes with Chick: Potter Marsh, Alaska

Posted on July 2, 2012 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

Driving to Anchorage from Seward recently, we spotted these sandhill cranes at Potter Marsh and decided to park the truck and walk out onto the boardwalk for a closer look.

Large birds are cool, and in North America, there aren’t many birds larger than Grus canadensis, sandhill cranes. Adults typically weight 8 to 10 pounds. The stand four to five feet tall and have wingspans of five-and-a-half feet to nearly seven feet. Sandhills are fairly common in the west, and in a few places can be viewed by the hundreds or even thousands. More frequently, they are seen here and there in pairs, in small groups, or as individuals.

The sexes are similar. Plumage ranges from drab gray to rusty brown. Aside from size, the most distinguishing characteristic is the red crown. (Click the photos for a larger view.)

We couldn’t quite make out what the adult bird is feeding the chick. Cranes are catholic in diet. Berries and seeds make up a large portion of their diet, but insects and other small animals figure in as well.

This chick will stay with its parents for 10 months or so – until just before next year’s breeding season when the parents will lay one to three eggs. Sandhills have a life expectancy of about seven years in the wild, but may live up to three times that long. Several subspecies occur throughout the U.S. and across the Pacific to Siberia. Accidentals have been reported in Europe.

Seward Yacht Club – Swimming Pools, Movie Stars

Posted on June 26, 2012 by Jack & Barbra Donachy

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.