I love the place names here in southeast Alaska. Wrangle, Elfin Cove, Pelican, Ford's Terror, Frosty Bay, Meyers Chuck, all memorable and fun. Apparently a "chuck" is a small body of protected water, and somebody named Meyers was involved in the naming of this one.
Meyers Chuck is a small totally protected natural harbor surrounded by a small fishing community. There are about forty homes here, but no road and no utilities. A dozen homes at the center of the village are connected by a foot path, but the rest comute by boat to the floating pier where we are moored which is essentially the center of the village.
There is a post office across the chuck, and a community bulletin board and an art gallery at the end of the ramp up from the pier, but no other community infrastructure. There used to be a school, but the kids all grew up so it was closed and the building converted into a home.
There is an enterprising gal here who bakes and sells cinnamon rolls to the visiting yachtsmen. We found her contact info on the bulletin board yesterday and ordered a dozen for this morning. She just arrived, by boat of course, and made her delivery. Thankful is full of the smell of hot cinnamon roll as I write this, and Lori is out on the float quickly becoming best friends with the baker.
We stopped to fish yesterday in a promising looking halibut hole two miles offshore as we headed south. First the Fish and Game cops came by to check our fishing licenses, then Matt hooked into a giant yellow eyed rock fish, which he successfully landed. He and Vicki made fabulous rock fish enchiladas last night.
Things were looking bad after Matt and I lost our first game of cribbage to the ladies last night, but our luck may be changing for the better. In the second game the boys managed to avenge the skunking the girls had given them a few days earlier. First the rock fish, then cribbage. Yes, we like Meyers Chuck, and things are looking up.
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