Life as a lightkeeper, once again!

Yep, I am back up doing the lighthouse thing again. So every now and then I will post something from my journal. Again if you want a copy of the 'book' from this year please let me know.

Nic



17 June 09,
Back on Patos, lost my camera back at the landing on North Beach. Didn’t Paul Theroux in The Old Patagonia Express say something about the joy of traveling without a camera. I also stupidly left my car charger inverter at home, so I am only able to charge the VHF raio and use it for communication. Leaving my phone as an emergency resource. I gave the information to Nick, and I’ll wait to see if all of that comes through. All of my camp is set up in the furthest site, the one we call ‘Calebs Camp’. Everything is comfortable and in its place, even my hammock. The view of course is spectacular and from this vantage point I can watch the boats come in and out of Active Cove. Watch them bobble up and down as a freighter waves comes in. Compressed between the walls of Patos and Little patos, I can actually see the water rise and fall without the discerning crest of a wave.
I do feel a tad lonely already, but not as much as I will when the boats leave. There is something comforting about still hearing human voices, I may not be actually eavesdropping, but I still tune in, if just a little to hear that little slice of humanity.
“Hey Robin come here.” A man calls out from his boat.
“Yes dear.”
“You didn’t shut the cooler.”
“Oh.”
The dogs are napping peacefully in the shade and although the clouds and possible rain of this morning have burned off, the sun provides little warmth to the stiff breeze. My lunch of Honey Bunny Graham Crackers and honey almond butter is enough to give me a much needed jolt after this morning. Funny how on the ride over this morning, two of the folks on the boat live in Longmont, not more then a mile from me! I gave them my information and they may contact me when I return to Colorado. (Later I found out that this is the granddaughter of my great-grandfather Jack Barfoots best friend. She went to visit my great-grandma right after that trip and talked of a young lady with two dogs going out to Patos)
It’s barely even 6:30 pm and I am already a bit sleepy. After dinner I shuffle papers, knit another 10 stitches on my hat, then head over to the grass ont he point. I drift off watching the sun and shadows on Percy’s head before a hummingbird flys at my face and flares his tail. I think ‘Woah buddy! I dare you to pick a fight with me”.
I have a funny mix of feelings about the next two weeks. I am excited to be out here again amongst the harbor seals and eagles, but there is a part of me that is scared. Scared of possible boredom, loneliness, solitude, injuries. All of that, but I also like that I feel that fear as it seems normal.
There is a seal out playing Active Cove and I can see his body twit and glide under the water from my vantage point. Little wet exhalations as he bobs his head along the surface. I am not the only one doing the watching. As the sun starts to slip further into the western sky, clouds start to roll in with the breeze. The kind of fluffy strung out clouds that make for a spectacular sunset. At this rate i hope I am awake for it.
On my evening walk out to the sunset spot I came across 3 baby swallows laying in the grass. Two died while I searched for their nest. The third will be dead by nightfall. They were so small and fragile, each one barely larger than a quarter, but already their pin feathers were showing along with the tell-tale blue feathers that made them so easy to identify.