This is Iggy. She is largely inert, largely well-intentioned, and occasionally hungry.

These are various children, wearing life preservers and jumping up and down on their beds in Alaska.

And before you jump ship, worried that this is one of those posts riddled with non sequitur, I assure you that these first two photos are deeply related to one another.

Iggy’s actual name is Egegik, which is the name of the small, Native village across the river from where we fish.

At least once a summer, we try to make the pilgrimage. The children in the photo above had just been informed of our intentions to depart for Egegik within the next five minutes. Hence, the enthusiasm.

Our neighbor Dave fishes in a skiff. When the tides are right and he has some time on his hands, he accepts a few castaways.

We left shore and headed out into the channel. August was the self-appointed lookout for whatever manner of disaster might approach.

Dave had just been fishing, and had some salmon to sell.

We headed out to the tender where he sells his fish.

By means of various ropes and hooks and scales and counterweights, Dave’s fish were lifted and weighted and deposited on ice in the hull of the ship.

While the buyers weighed our fish and attended to the related paperwork, we had many opportunities to smile broadly.

If you’re sitting there shocked at my incredible fashion sense, all I can say is, I really pull out all the stops up on the tundra. The further away I am from civilization, the more I tend to care about looking really good.

Ditto Augie. Because, of course, I’ve taught him everything I know about nautical stylishness.

When the buyers were done, they hosed down the deck.

And Captain Dave drove us onward toward our next adventure.

We were worried about the possibility of disaster. Without warning, our self-appointed lookout had fallen asleep.

And yet we raced bravely forward. We had to get across the water while the tide was high.

There’s no denying the truth. It is fun to race across the water in a boat.

 

Not long later, we pulled up to the pier near the Alaska Genera Seafood pier.

We tied up near a metal ladder.

And made our way up.

One person at a time.

To get to the center of town, we had to walk through a series of warehouses used for winter boat storage.

And up a long ramp.

At the top of which is the Egegik Bus Stop.

I hope I do not disappoint you too much to tell you that the Egegik Bus Stop is just hilarious Egegkik humor. Egegik does not have a bus because Egegik has less than 100 full-time residents. It also does not have paved roads. Also, a bus ride from one end of Egegik to the other would take less than three minutes.

These facts were lost on Augie, who was awake now, bus just barely.

Because it is often raining and muddy in Egegik, there are many raised walkways.

We followed them to one of the very few places of public commerce, the Egegik store.

The clerks were thrilled to see us.

We were thrilled to see the abundant variety of edible things. To this moment, we had been limited by the food that Robbi’s sister had packed in the large tote that she had filled with dry goods in Seattle some four months prior. That tote had made a slow barge ride up to our distant port of call.

Now, we were surrounded by an abundance of new (if decidedly expensive) options.

It was hard to stay calm.

Where else in the world can you buy just one (unwrapped) roll of paper towels?

While also browsing for various ductwork and caulk?

We did not need rubber gloves, but if we had, we would not have been disappointed.

The store is firm in its policy to extend no credit. For reasons that should be perfectly obvious.

We spent most of our time admiring the food, but in the end, settled for a pack of donuts that we ate within three minutes of leaving the store. They were maple flavored. Eating them, I got a little bit emotional.

We celebrated our sugar high by strolling down the central byway of scenic Egegik.

The summer population consists mostly of folks who work in the fish processing operations, so there are a great number of bunk houses here and there. And a great number of puddles.

One of the other options for public commerce is the Egegik liquor store, which consists of the top half of a Dutch door that swings open for business during two, clearly defined 30-minute intervals each day.

Here are the offerings, should you be anticipating a trip to Egegik and would like to plan in advance how to get your party on.

Egegik is a jumble of homespun structures made of plywoood and corrugated tin.

Many of them abandoned.

And the occasional two-year-old lollipop fiend in a yellow, one-piece, rain-resistant jumpsuit.

Perhaps inspired by the donuts, the children did some spirited jumping.

And then they did some more.

And then we walked back through the warehouses.

And headed for home.

The sad part of the story: Egegik was not invited to Egegik. In fact, she has never been. I’m not sure if you know my dog, but the truth is that she would not thrive in the bottom of Dave’s skiff. The waves would not delight her. Nor would the 15-foot ladder at the pier.

No, Iggy will have to be inspired by her namesake from afar. Or not at all, as the case may be.