Another amazing day. We tried fly fishing the two great rivers in the valley today – both looked perfect – only to find the salmon aren’t running yet. Lots of bushwhacking and wading, trying perfect fishing holes with no fish. So beautiful it didn’t matter. Each of us got a seagull. One follows you the entire time – keeping you away from the chicks as it’s nesting season. It’s super helpful in finding your fishing partner – just look for his seagull.
We continue to see the signs of the war. A huge berm with dug in massive holes for large guns and trenches for troop movement. Rusting 55 gallon drums, metal stakes, and foundations for long collapsed structures dot the inland valley. Foxholes are everywhere – still holes bucking the tundra protected by the rocks lining the walls. After reading a great book on the battle, the place takes on a very somber note – thinking of all the lives lost.
We return to the boat, coming back from Attu for the last time, and getting ready to say our goodbye to this magical place. We had 6 amazing days at this incredibly remote postage stamp stuck out in one of the roughest places in all the oceans. Wildflowers, whales, fish, birds, skiing, history, tundra, waterfalls, peaks, rivers…the list goes on. We may never be back, and few will ever see it, and Attu has impacted each of us in such a fundamental way. Farewell, and on to the next island…Kiska.
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