9,10,11,12May10 Ketchikan Industrial Ketchikan, AK

Other than dodging logs, the run into Ketchikan was a milk run. We saw a few more whales, most too small to be Humpbacks, and one that definitely was a Humpy.

We got buzzed really low by a seaplane while coming into Ketchikan, and were then hailed on Ch 16 by someone from Doyson's Landing, the ony luxury private dock I know of in Alaska. He was offering moorage with power and a loaner car for $3/foot/day. Guess he spots likely yachts coming in by seaplane and solicits them.

But we came to Alaska to see it in its native form, so we declined the offer and tied up at the rougher and far cheaper Bar Harbor at north end of Ketchikan. Its a very industrial, fishing-oriented harbor (they don't call them marinas up here). We like that place as its close to a good marine/outfitting store and a grocery. And it forces me to walk to get anywhere, which I need to do. Kermodei and I went on a quest for a field for him to chase balls in, but found nothing, nor any Ketchikan resident who knew where a field might be, other than at the high school. We went up there and found everything was gravel. It was workable but not exactly to Kermodei's liking.

Of course, boats have problems, and we've got a doozy.

The macerating Raritan Atlantes toilets on Serendipity are clearly labeled to accept only �"human waste and toilet paper.�" However, during a moment of extreme courtesy to our Canadian hosts, Debbie decided to run some of Kermodei's waste (collected from his boat deck spot) through the forward head instead of just dumping it overboard as usual.

Whether it was the stray nuts and bolts, the tennis ball, the supposedly indestructible Kong pull toy, the piece of nylon line, the beef tendon sticks, the small stones that came up on the anchor chain, the corner of the rubber mat in the cockpit or the clam shells that jammed it, we have no idea, but as far as we know, that's about all Kermodei had to eat the day before. Unfortunately, I'm faced with tearing the forward head apart to complete the forensics to identity the offending piece of Labrador poop.

Going forward, I see two alternatives: 1) Get a 5 horsepower gasoline-powered Labrador-grade macerating head, or, 2) dump his poop overboard even if the nice people who live in the harbor we are anchored in are offended, not to mention risk damage to their boats from the brief tsunami wave the splash will make.

I'm lobbying very strongly for number two, but since Debbie does deck patrol, and is well known for her politeness, she'll have to make the final call.

I've included a picture of Kermodei and Lotus in "double stack" mode. Lotus likes basement bed and Kermodei, of course, has to be up and in the middle of everything.