out to roughly the depth of a wading pool.
He headed back to the marina, pleased with what he’d seen. When he reached Bear Lodge, located near the marina, the idea of spending the night in a bed that didn’t move, and bathing in abundant hot water was suddenly appealing.
After showing Gerrum a room, the innkeeper, one John Jeffers, offered him a cup of coffee, and Marian Jeffers joined them in the inn’s dining room.
“We’ve got lots of nice places around Wrangell,” John said when Gerrum asked about area attractions.
“There’s the garnet reef. It was willed to the Boy Scouts, but anyone can buy a permit and do their own digging. Even without digging, it’s an interesting place to walk around. Then there’s Anan Observatory where you can watch bears going after salmon.”
“And don’t forget the Stikine River,” Marian added.
“Yep. That’s a good one. East of here, on the mainland. Navigable all the way into Canada. There are hot springs about twenty miles in, glaciers, waterfalls, lakes. Makes for a nice day if you’ve got a fast boat and the tides cooperate.”
“The tides?”
“The Stikine delta empties out real good at low tide,” John said. “Means, you don’t time it right, you can get stuck getting back to Wrangell.”
“A time-honored Wrangell romantic tradition,” Marian said with a chuckle.
The next morning, Gerrum walked downtown to the Visitors’ Center.
“You the one with the pretty green boat?” asked the middle-aged woman behind the counter.
Taken aback at how fast that information had made the rounds, he smiled. “Guilty as charged. I’m Gerrum Kirsey.”
“Pleased to meet you.” She reached a hand out. “Doreen Matthews. You’re Native, ain’t you.”
“My mother’s Tlingit. From this area, originally.”
“Well, how about that. Welcome home, Gerrum Kirsey.”
“Thank you.”
“What can I do for you?”
“You free for a cup of coffee?”
She grabbed a sweater, put up a sign, and, chatting all the way, walked with him to Maude’s Café. Garrulous and friendly, Doreen was clearly an excellent choice for the Visitors’ Center. She was also direct and inquisitive.
After he let her pry into his background as much as he cared to allow, he finally got her to reciprocate with information about Wrangell. She had a good memory and was able to tell him the approximate number of visitors coming through each season, the number staying overnight, the number booking guided trips, and the most popular type of trips.
While she talked, he made notes on one of the cafe’s paper placemats. The information dovetailed with what the Jeffers told him, but now he had figures he could use to run the numbers.
“If you get your paperwork in order, I’d be happy to start referring visitors interested in sports fishing, and later in the season you could offer Anan trips,” Doreen said.
“I’m also interested in the viability of offering Stikine trips.”
“Doubt that would work for you. You need a smaller, faster boat to make a go of it on the Stikine.”
Essentially the same thing the Jeffers had told him. “Is anyone doing Stikine trips?”
“A few tried it. Never seems to take.”
“Do you know why?”
“Trip takes most of a day. Means you’re always going to hit a low tide either going or coming. The boats what can get across best are too small to be comfortable for, say a party of four to six. That’s what’s needed to make a go of it.”
He walked Doreen back to the Visitors’ Center and returned to the Joyful with the placemat of figures and an idea beginning to form.
“Only thing worse than a Native acting like he’s good as you is a Native who’s a goddamned lawyer.” The man who spoke was standing at the bar dressed in the typical Wrangell attire of flannel shirt and jeans held up by suspenders.
Gerrum knew the
He headed back to the marina, pleased with what he’d seen. When he reached Bear Lodge, located near the marina, the idea of spending the night in a bed that didn’t move, and bathing in abundant hot water was suddenly appealing.
After showing Gerrum a room, the innkeeper, one John Jeffers, offered him a cup of coffee, and Marian Jeffers joined them in the inn’s dining room.
“We’ve got lots of nice places around Wrangell,” John said when Gerrum asked about area attractions.
“There’s the garnet reef. It was willed to the Boy Scouts, but anyone can buy a permit and do their own digging. Even without digging, it’s an interesting place to walk around. Then there’s Anan Observatory where you can watch bears going after salmon.”
“And don’t forget the Stikine River,” Marian added.
“Yep. That’s a good one. East of here, on the mainland. Navigable all the way into Canada. There are hot springs about twenty miles in, glaciers, waterfalls, lakes. Makes for a nice day if you’ve got a fast boat and the tides cooperate.”
“The tides?”
“The Stikine delta empties out real good at low tide,” John said. “Means, you don’t time it right, you can get stuck getting back to Wrangell.”
“A time-honored Wrangell romantic tradition,” Marian said with a chuckle.
The next morning, Gerrum walked downtown to the Visitors’ Center.
“You the one with the pretty green boat?” asked the middle-aged woman behind the counter.
Taken aback at how fast that information had made the rounds, he smiled. “Guilty as charged. I’m Gerrum Kirsey.”
“Pleased to meet you.” She reached a hand out. “Doreen Matthews. You’re Native, ain’t you.”
“My mother’s Tlingit. From this area, originally.”
“Well, how about that. Welcome home, Gerrum Kirsey.”
“Thank you.”
“What can I do for you?”
“You free for a cup of coffee?”
She grabbed a sweater, put up a sign, and, chatting all the way, walked with him to Maude’s Café. Garrulous and friendly, Doreen was clearly an excellent choice for the Visitors’ Center. She was also direct and inquisitive.
After he let her pry into his background as much as he cared to allow, he finally got her to reciprocate with information about Wrangell. She had a good memory and was able to tell him the approximate number of visitors coming through each season, the number staying overnight, the number booking guided trips, and the most popular type of trips.
While she talked, he made notes on one of the cafe’s paper placemats. The information dovetailed with what the Jeffers told him, but now he had figures he could use to run the numbers.
“If you get your paperwork in order, I’d be happy to start referring visitors interested in sports fishing, and later in the season you could offer Anan trips,” Doreen said.
“I’m also interested in the viability of offering Stikine trips.”
“Doubt that would work for you. You need a smaller, faster boat to make a go of it on the Stikine.”
Essentially the same thing the Jeffers had told him. “Is anyone doing Stikine trips?”
“A few tried it. Never seems to take.”
“Do you know why?”
“Trip takes most of a day. Means you’re always going to hit a low tide either going or coming. The boats what can get across best are too small to be comfortable for, say a party of four to six. That’s what’s needed to make a go of it.”
He walked Doreen back to the Visitors’ Center and returned to the Joyful with the placemat of figures and an idea beginning to form.
“Only thing worse than a Native acting like he’s good as you is a Native who’s a goddamned lawyer.” The man who spoke was standing at the bar dressed in the typical Wrangell attire of flannel shirt and jeans held up by suspenders.
Gerrum knew the
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