Let Us Be Brave

by Linda Thompson

  “A hot cup of herbal tea is always welcome.”

  Danielle went into the room to heat a cup of water for tea. She filled the small one-cup electric teapot with water and turned it on after she popped a ginger lemon tea bag into a cup.

  Irene finally got up from watching the late night sunset and headed into the cabin. Danielle had to help her close the door tightly. Irene undressed and put on her nightgown. Danielle helped her as needed, and soon Irene was tucked in bed with a book about bears, her cup of tea resting on the nightstand between the two beds.

  “So glad you’re going out again tonight. Dancing?” questioned Irene. “I’m glad you met . . . ah, that young man. He’s made this trip a lot more fun than just traveling with your ol’ grandma. I know I’m no spring chicken like you. I need my rest to get through the next day. You, on the other hand, seem to be able to rob yourself of sleep with little or no consequence. How do you do it?”

  “To be honest, I’m exhausted, but we’re running out of time on this cruise. Soon we’ll be in Anchorage, and I don’t know what will happen with Nathan after that. We’ll be going to Denali and Fairbanks on the railroad. This might be one of our last two nights together. I’ll sleep later, Grandma.”

  Irene was quite comfortable in her bed as she sipped her tea and watched Danielle put on a touch of makeup and comb her hair. The old woman’s eyes settled on the Anchorage Daily News. She read, “Search Has Resumed” on the front page.

  “Grandma, did you see the article about the search for the lost athletes?” said Danielle. “It’s on the front page. You might want to read it. Maybe we’ll see some of the search planes tomorrow.”

  “I just noticed it.” She adjusted her trifocals and proceeded to read. “This is interesting. I’m so glad the volcano activity has slowed down and any ash is now blowing west and away from us. I hadn’t thought about the fact that if it erupts and the wind changes direction, we might not be able to fly to the bears tomorrow. It says it might rain tonight and that will help with the search because it’ll keep the ash from blowing around as much. Wouldn’t it be great if they rescued the athletes tomorrow when we’re in Homer?” She continued to read the paper with interest, but soon found her eyes were heavy.

  Danielle finished fixing her hair and said, “I’m ready to go, Grandma. Are you sure you’ll be okay alone tonight? I don’t have to go out.”

  Sleepily she answered, “I wouldn’t dream of slowing you down. I’ll be fine. I won’t leave the room. Promise.”

  Danielle bent down and kissed her on the forehead. “Sweet dreams.” She walked over to the door, took one more look around the room to see if there was anything amiss, and smiled one last time at her grandma.

  Irene’s eyes were closing as she dozed off to sleep. The newspaper slowly fell onto the bedspread as she lost her grip on it. Danielle turned the lights down in the room and slipped out the door without a worry. Her grandma was all tucked in, and she was off to go dancing with a handsome man. She was so glad she had agreed to help on the trip, even if Grandma could be difficult at times. It was hard to deal with her when she was confused, but Danielle remembered how loving, kind, and thoughtful she had been in the past. She did seem very normal tonight. Hopefully, Irene would stay in bed as she said she would and Danielle’s night would be free and fun.

  The following morning, after battling with the door, Irene found the air was crisp on the balcony when she walked out. She pulled her coat over her little tummy, buttoned it up, and pulled up the collar around her face. She could tell it had been raining as she sat nestled in her seat. The ship was heading toward Mt. Augustine. It looked like an upside-down waffle cone sitting in the water. Steam was coming out of the top of it and flowing away from the ship. There was no sign of volcanic ash anywhere she could see. The ship was hugging the rocky west side of the inlet, and the trees were thick, green, and lush. The beaches certainly were not white, sandy ones like in San Diego. Walking on them could be tough with all the jagged grey rocks, but she wasn’t planning on hiking far that day.

  “Looks like good flying weather to me,” she said softly to herself, smiling. She sat in the lounge chair until she started sneezing from the cold and then headed back inside to wake up her granddaughter. After struggling with the door, she left it open. It was too hard to close again. Danielle could get it later.

  Chapter 32

  Brown Bear I

  Johnny, a deck hand, watched the huge cruise ship pass on the port side as he worked on the freight deck to prepare for crossing Cook Inlet. He had a great job on Brown Bear I, a large, flat-bottomed landing craft that could go right up to almost any beach, lower its front, and easily unload all its freight. The brown-colored boat was presently loaded with four huge shipping containers, two skiffs, three four-wheelers, and other necessities. It had a tall back end that housed the galley, bunks, and bridge so the captain could see over all the freight. A huge, menacing brown bear was painted right below the large windows of the bridge where the captain stood. They were sailing to the Iliamna Bay haul road where the plan was to unload the badly-needed freight, which was headed for Kokhanok on Iliamna Lake. Winds were good for missing volcanic ash, and the mountain’s exhaust had slowed down considerably. If they could get unloaded quickly, they could head on down to Pebble Lake and Ugashik that night. It all depended upon the winds and how active Augustine was, but predictions were favorable for the next 24 hours.

  He watched the tourists standing on the many decks of the cruise ship, gazing at the sights of Homer. There were many smaller boats going in all directions, fishing mostly, he figured. It was a beautiful day, though he had heard the weather was going to change again. Heavy fog was forecast for the next day. Maybe they would miss it going south, but maybe they wouldn’t.

  Within a couple of hours the boat was riding the rolling, eight-foot waves of Cook Inlet. Johnny never got tired of the roller coaster ride, though they did slow down the boat’s progress more than the captain wanted. The inlet tides were causing drift, and he had to make accommodations to progress toward Iliamna Bay. The captain had slowed down a bit and the water wasn’t coming over the sides. At least Johnny didn’t have to worry about being washed overboard. It was relatively warm, compared to winter trips, but still he didn’t really want to go swimming in cold glacial silt. Everything was lashed down tightly, so he wasn’t concerned about anything breaking loose.

  After he finished with his duties, he walked up the steep, outside metal stairs with its peeling, painted handrail and stopped at the top to smoke his pipe. He didn’t like smoking inside. It made him feel guilty, with all the secondhand smoke propaganda going on. Another shipmate, the cook, came out and lit up a Camel, and the two watched the scenery to the north and west. Soon they had crossed the worst of the waves and entered the area where the water settled and smoothed down on the north side of Augustine Island with its grey and white clouds circling over the top. The captain headed straight for the most northern and western bay in the region, the location where the only haul road to Lake Iliamna was located.

  After another half hour they were getting closer to land. “Guess I’d better get inside to make lunch before we dock,” said the cook. “You’ll need me to help unload today, right?”

  Johnny was studying the shoreline north of the boat. “Yeah, we have to . . . Did you see that?” asked Johnny with astonishment.

  “See what?”

  “A light over there . . . on shore. It wasn’t a signal, probably just a reflection.” He kept focusing at the same area of the beach, but nothing caught his eye again. “Guess it was my imagination.”

  “Maybe there’s a fishing boat over there and the windows reflected the light or something. I’m sure it’s explainable. Oh, look at the time. Got to get going.” The cook opened the heavy hatch door and stepped up and over the high ledge inside the galley.

  The dining area was a large wooden table on his right with fiddles around the edge to stop things from falling off the tabletop in roc
ky seas. Beyond that he could see the hatchway to the bridge where the captain stood, driving the boat. On the left was an island of shelves going to the ceiling, making a visual barrier between the galley and the bridge. He stepped into the galley and pulled out three large cans of salmon, opened them, dumped them into a bowl, and mixed in diced apple, mayonnaise, and pickle relish. He grabbed a loaf of homemade bread, sliced it, and put the slices on a cookie sheet, all lined up in neat rows. He scooped out the salmon onto the bread and put slices of fresh mozzarella cheese on top before putting the open-faced sand-wiches in the oven to bake. He made a fresh pot of coffee and heated up water for tea.

  Johnny continued to smoke his pipe and watch as the distant green shoreline, with the top of giant Mt. Iliamna in the background, passed by. They were far enough away that he couldn’t see animals on shore, but he could see the lay of the land. They were passing Iniskin Bay when he saw another little flash of light at sea level. “Cook’s right; probably just a little window on a small craft of some sort. Too far to know exactly.” The landing craft had just about passed the cove when he noticed a much brighter flash of light from up the hill. “Oh . . . Oh, there’s another one,” he said aloud.

  He continued to watch until the cook stuck his head out the door and informed him that lunch was almost ready. Johnny never saw any more reflections. He went on inside and sat down to eat.

  “See any more lights?” asked the cook.

  “As a matter of fact, I did.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked the captain.

  “Saw light at sea level, sir. We decided it was just off a window of a small craft of some sort. Nothing patterned like a signal or anything.”

  “Where?”

  “Around Iniskin Bay.”

  “Then I saw one up the hill a bit. It was brighter. Saw it twice even.”

  “That must have been the windows of Indian Joe’s cabin. He has a great little place up there with a smokehouse, steam bath, creek for water, and a good trail, wide enough for a four wheeler right to the place. He built it so it isn’t obvious from the beach, but it’s there. ”

  “Does he live there in the summer?”

  “Year around as far as I know,” said the cook.

  “I heard he commercial fishes sometimes in Dillingham,” said the captain. “He must have had a heck of a view of Augustine when it blew.”

  “Have you noticed? The trees have lost almost all of their grey ash and are green again. Glad I wasn’t on this side last week. Must have been really stinky being this close,” said Johnny.

  Captain took his lunch up to the wheel since they were getting closer to the haul road and the landing beach. He was busy watching the depth finder as well as on the lookout for floating logs or other dangerous items.

  They’d all finished their last bites by the time the captain called, “All hands on deck. We’re almost there.”

  “Okay, Captain,” said Johnny. “Don’t you suppose we should tell someone about the flashing lights I saw? You know there are search planes looking for that lost plane from Pebble Lake.”

  “I doubt it’s much more than Indian Joe, but we probably should. When we get out of this narrow bay, I’ll call Search and Rescue and have them take a closer look.”

  “Great.”

  Johnny was out the door immediately. The cook followed close behind him after he had finished securing the dirty dishes, which could wait until they were at sea again.

  Chapter 33

  Irene in Homer

  Breakfast was over, but Irene and Danielle sat at a table in the dining area, sipping their morning tea with honey, as they watched the ship come to port out on the end of the Homer Spit. The crew had just thrown the ropes over for the men on shore to tie the giant hotel to the cleats on the dock. The docking process had taken about an hour, during which Irene had periodically studied the bear tour brochure she had in her hand.

  “Grandma, looks like they’re about to drop the gangplank to the dock so we can go ashore,” Danielle said.

  “Yes, dear, it does. Are we back in San Diego now? I really need to water my roses. They look so dry.”

  Danielle looked at her grandmother strangely. Where did that come from? she wondered. “No, grandma, we’re in Alaska. Remember? You wanted to go see the bears.”

  Irene focused on Danielle for a bit and after watching what was going on around her, she slowly came back to the present reality. She was very uncertain how she got there, but she wouldn’t embarrass herself by saying anything about it.

  “Everything is in our backpack: tickets, wallets, hats, gloves, and an extra shawl for you if you get cold,” said Danielle. “According to the brochure you have in your hand, the Spit is in the middle of Kachemak Bay. It’s a pretty place. I wouldn’t mind living here. The mountains, glaciers, and ocean all together, and the day is . . . wow! Striking is a good word. Did you see all the sea otters? There were hundreds of them all together back there.”

  Irene looked at her with a confused expression on her face, but said nothing.

  “Shall we head toward the exit or wait until all the people in a hurry get off?” asked Danielle. “I don’t want you to get hurt if people are pushy.”

  Irene, still a little confused as to the plan, stated, “Let’s wait. I remember traveling by ship with your grandpa before World War II. I didn’t think we would ever get to New York from England. It was a rough crossing.”

  They continued to sip their tea and watch as the long line of people worked their way off. Finally the line disappeared, and Irene and Danielle joined the stragglers who were disembarking a few at a time. Once off the concrete dock, they found a clean green van with the words “Brooks River Bear Tours” painted on the side. It was parked on a muddy potholed gravel road at the end of the dock. The two ladies watched their step so they wouldn’t get their tennis shoes wet as they picked their way toward it.

  A clean-shaven man about forty years old with grey sideburns and a thick head of dark brown hair came over. He wore a dark green fleece jacket with the same name and logo embroidered on the front. “Hi, my name is John. I’m with Brooks River Tours. Are you Irene Vaughn and Danielle Foxworthy?”

  The women nodded in acknowledgement. “Yes, we are,” said Danielle.

  “We’ve been looking forward to introducing you to some beautiful bears across the bay today.”

  “Oh, wonderful,” said Irene.

  He opened the door to the van, put a solid metal step on the ground, and took her arm to help her climb into the vehicle. Soon the two ladies were seat-belted and ready to go.

  “We’ve been hearing all about the recent eruption for days. Will the volcano affect our trip?” asked Danielle.

  “It’s been good flying out of Homer for twenty-four hours now, so we’re predicting it’ll be fine. We’ll be monitoring it, of course. We have two places where we take people to view bears. One is Brooks River, which you booked to see today, and the other is Bear River where it flows into Cook Inlet. Both are west of here on the other side of Cook Inlet.”

  He pointed to the west, but they couldn’t see very far because of various buildings and structures around the Homer harbor. Both women looked back at John.

  “We’ve heard that the ash coming from Augustine is negligible compared to earlier this week, but it’s still traveling toward Brooks River. FAA is recommending avoiding that airspace. Bear River, on the other hand, is more to the north and has been cleared for air travel. We hope you’ll be happy to go to Bear River, another excellent viewing spot, and then have a gourmet lunch of baked fresh salmon at our lodge before returning to Homer. We consider it an excellent excursion.”

  “Sounds fine to me,” said Danielle. “How about you, Grandma?”

  “I don’t want to get into ash, so yes, sounds wonderful.”

  “All right then, I’ll take you to Beluga Lake where our float plane is docked. Our pilot will help you board our Cessna 207 on floats, along with two other people, also from the ship
. They’re already on their way to the lake in another van.”

  He started driving down the bumpy gravel road, and the two ladies watched with intrigue. “Sure is a beautiful place,” said Irene, holding onto the armrest for support.

  “We love it here.”

  “How long have you lived here?” asked Irene.

  “I was born in Anchorage, but my parents moved here when I was in elementary school. I’ve lived here ever since.”

  The van suddenly bumped up onto the asphalt, and traveling smoothed out. Irene let go of the armrest and relaxed. As they drove, they could see hundreds of boats of various sizes from massive ships to small skiffs docked in a protected harbor to the south. They passed by a line of trucks pulling trailers with small, seaworthy boats of aluminum, fiberglass, or rubber inflatables. They were waiting their turn to back down a ramp and launch. Some had fishing poles sticking up along the sides, while the small inflatables were filled with coolers, poles, and life jackets. Large engines hung off the back.

  “Lots of people going fishing today?” asked Danielle.

  “The salmon are in. Everyone wants to get their share before the volcano erupts or the next storm hits and makes sea travel impossible. We have a small window when they’re easy to catch, and this week they’re at their peak, I hear. I hope to go out after work tonight with the missus. She loves crowded combat fishing at Anchor River. I’m not sure why. I’d rather go across the bay to China Poot and peacefully dip net to catch all we need for the winter in one tide.”

  “Where is China Poot?”

  “It’s that little mountain that’s shaped like a cone over there.” He pointed to the south across Kachemak Bay to a little symmetrical peak surrounded by jagged irregular mountains with patches of snow hidden from the direct summer sun behind rough outcroppings. “The fishing is great there, but it’s a short season, and this week is the best.”

  They turned off the road from the boat launch and were soon heading north on Homer Spit Road towards town. There was seawater on both sides of the road, and the view was incredible.