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August 09, 2007

The Compound

For the confused: this is another entry about our time in Alaska, authored in Chicago O'Hare Airport on our way to England. These buildings that follow are not, as it might seem, in England.


Here are the various buildings that make up the Behr Compound on Coffee Point, in no particular order.

This is the main house where we spend most of our time. There is a main room where we cook, eat, and play cards, and three bedrooms. It was built about 10 years ago now in a group effort led by our good friend Uncle Ken, who was instrumental in the renovations of our barn. It is widely considered one of the swankiest houses on Coffee Point. We call it the "new house."

Here is the "old house". Originally built 30+ years ago, and expanded several times thereafter, it now serves as storage for canned goods, rain gear, tools, our deep freeze, and old mattresses. The adjoining garage is where we keep the ropes and four-wheelers in the winter.

The "detached palace", home of Robbi, Iggy, and me this summer. It is nestled in a thicket of alders not far from the bluff. To reach the detached palace, one must walk a narrow path flanked by overgrowth. Since bears could be lurking anywhere, Robbi sings a purposefully loud and grating song whenever going to or from the detached palace. The theme of the song is. "Go away bears." Grizzly bears have no interest in people unless provoked. Robbi's song provides ample warning that they had best be on their way.

One of the most important buildings is the outhouse. And isn't it attractive?

In order to indicate that one is in the outhouse (that others might not inadvertently try to enter), one places this white board across the path that leads from the "new house" to the outhouse. It's a fairly reliable system.

Here is the "kumijo" (pronounced KOO MA JOE), where we store our nets, waders, and life jackets, and which has a second-story sleeping room for overflow guests. The Kumijo used to be red but then we ran out of red paint. It's difficult to get new paint in Coffee Point, and so we used the gray. The boat in front is Roji's boat. It is fast and holds about 12,000 pounds of salmon.

This is the steam bath, a structure created long ago by our neighbor Vern for the purposes of bathing. Now that we have a proper shower, the steam bath is most often used for drying wet fishing gear.

Here is our smoke house, not to be mistaken for the outhouse. Even though they bear some similarity, they have very different purposes. Keep this in mind if you want to avoid the wrath of Seiko.

And this is the previous home of our neighbor Vern, who was squatting on the Behr property when Bob and Seiko first arrived 30 years ago. Now Vern (who will be the subject of his own entry in days to come) lives about a quarter mile down the tundra road from us, but his house remains. It is a marvelous structure.

The stairs lead up to the living quarters. The ground level is a garage/tool shop. On the side is a small house designed for guinea hens Vern raised long ago. The guinea house backs up against the oil stove inside, so that the hens would have heat throughout the winter. Vern is a master carpenter and genius in many ways. He can fix anything with any assortment of materials. He has rescued us repeatedly over the years. Things break in Alaska. And they are difficult to replace. Having a friend like Vern is incredibly helpful.

But more on Vern to come. This entry is about buildings.

Here is Roji's house.

A few years ago we moved Roji's house from it's original location, several miles down the beach and placed it here at the edge of the bluff with a nice view of the water. Last winter a tremendous wind came and knocked Roji's house from its foundation. It took some doing, but Bob and Roji righted the house and moved it back into place. Here you see the house restored to equilibrium. Another entry will properly document the trials that led to its being once again on solid ground.

Here is our tiny herb and vegetable garden, planted in the liner of a pickup truck. Seiko planted the seeds in early June, and six weeks later, just as we were leaving, the first turnips were reaching maturity. The garden is less about providing nourishment and more an object lesson in perseverance. The garden pleases us, reminding us of spring on days when the winds blow and the rain drives in from the river.

Here are our storage containers. Basically, they are the long rectangular containers that you see on the back of 18-wheeled trucks or on the beds of railroad cars. They are durable metal and cannot be entered by a bear, no matter how motivated or enterprising. We use the containers for storage and for hanging nets (the process in which the net is carefully strung between the cork lines (which make the top of the net float) and the lead lines (which make the bottom of the net sink). More on this process to come.

Here is our water tower. We pump water from a spring a few hundred yards from the compound to this water tower. The pressure thus created by the elevated water serves our faucets and shower. It's a great system. Until the pump breaks like it did this year. This year, we had to fill enormous plastic totes with water at the spring and drive them in the back of a pickup to the compound. Vern has promised to fix the broken pump over the winter. Do you see why we value the man so highly?

Here, then, is a long view of the compound from the roof of Roji's house.

And looking east across the water at the town of Egegik.

So this is where we sleep and eat. We fish about two miles up the beach. More on that to come.


Posted by bogenamp at August 9, 2007 03:28 AM