Oct 1988 Travel in the Kodiak Archipelago- Harry Departs

As we assess the situation Harry delivers some news...

As if its point proven the rains finally abates that next morning. We rise and cloth ourselves with not quite dry enough clothes. Returning to the site we find the tent collapsed. Everything else was strewn about as if victim of powerful winds. But nothing major damaged. Our equipment usable we will be able to continue our work as soon as we clean up.

Harry informs us that we cannot stay in camp though. The tent inadequate while too late into the rainy season and colder weather prevents our continuing success. We will move back to the igloos on the shore.
We do not argue this decision. We would not mind the hike, even though the loss of time the hike to and fro will cost us a chunk of our day. But it is decided. Jim and I speculate that it was because Harry could not handle the daily travel as to why we decided to pitch the tent in the first place.
Another bit of news. Harry informs us that he did not intend to stay as long as he already has. Business in Anchorage is pending his arrival. He just remained to ensure that we were set up properly and primed our initial work commencement. He is to return home. We will continue the work here for our remaining week.
This, of course is news to me. Maybe he had discussed this with Jim but seeing Jim’s reaction I realize his surprise as well.
Maybe the harsh weather or the stress of the outdoor work was a bit much for a man of Harry’s age. But a thought occurred that first niggled at me, he already allotted these two weeks to work with us out here and not even one passed when this “pending” business away needed tending. A hint of suspicion started brewing in my mind.
In preparation we were assigned a work plan for our remaining time in his absence, work will continue on at the local sites and if time permitted move the equipment to the bay south of us by boat because, as it was already determined, there was no well-worn overland path to the southern bay from our location and thus a foot crossing of the mountainous area to our south was too treacherous.
“By boat?”
 Yes, apparently a twenty foot wooden skiff was anchored on the shore of the southern edge of the lagoon, near the mouth that leads to open water. We could not see it from our base site because of the tall grass. Two oars and a small outboard engine there was enough room to pack all our supplies and head into open waters.
Any question that may have arisen about our exposure to the elements out here was quelled by the thought that we will now be staying in a solid standing structure. No more flimsy two man tent. Even at the cost of the added hike to and fro we were glad for the decision.
We start to pack for the return trip. Leaving the equipment at the site we grab our food and clothing and prepare our bundles to transport. Jim sees the condition of his rifle. He glared at me but did not say a thing about it. He must have realized my need at the moment to defy his wishes.
The hike back was a silent one. We were still exhausted from the week’s onslaught. We just traversed the grassy plains, ravines, wooded area muted. We arrive at the lagoon with new watery created after the rains from the week. At the igloo we unpack, set up drying lines inside and kindle the stove to produce heat and a top to cook our meal.
A thought crosses my mind, I am glad they did not send me back to drag this heavy die cast metal stove to supplant the open fires we tried to light. Dragging it through five kilometers of hard terrain would surely have exhausted me.
We rest. The next day we prepare Harry for his departure and we push the plane onto the beach and load his gear. He shakes our hand and promises to be back before the end of our second week contracted. Also promises to bring additional provisions because he is confident in our skills and would offer us an extension to continue working at Eagle Cove if we were interested.
We tell him that we would consider and will discuss it upon his return.
And with that he departs. Circling overhead and as we watch from the beach tips his wings and veers northward toward the city.
Jim and I watch even after he disappears over the mountain range. Still hearing his propellers…or is that the crashing surf echoing off of the mountainside. That auditory mirage would haunt us for the remainder of our stay.
Jim finally heads over the ridgeline back to the igloos. I follow shortly. But I have an uneasy feeling. We have had a rough first week. What will our remaining week be like?