In 1949 my grandpa through some loops managed to homestead a property which now is part of a reserve across the bay from Kenai, Alaska. It was his gift to my grandma. Throughout the year cabins have burnt down, been re-built, boats gotten a stuck in the sloughs, memories shared, and plenty of ducks were sacrificed.
Between me being a typical high school girl and going off to college it's been about ten years since I was able to make the family trip over for opening day. But man after this year I will be sure never to miss it again. The musty old cabin that smells of a woodstove fire fresh perculated coffee. I was lucky enough to watch the northern lights dance across the sky, my pup retrieve birds as if she hadn't take a four year hiatus from it, and spend foggy morning hunting with my dad.