Homeward Bound

Our final full day of the trip began with another rough night courtesy of Evie. She had been sleeping better lately, so the regression was a bit of a surprise. Unfortunately, the accumulated lack of sleep had finally caught up with me. I woke with one of those blinding headaches that only seems to come from too many interrupted nights, a combination of exhaustion and irritability that makes even simple tasks feel monumental.

Thankfully, Southeast Alaska had other plans. The weather was gorgeous, and there was no way we were going to waste one of those rare sunny days indoors.

That morning the entire family headed down to Settler’s Cove for a leisurely walk along the beach. Low tide had transformed the shoreline into a giant natural playground.  Joni eagerly wandered from tide pool to tide pool, carefully stepping across seaweed-covered rocks while the Hogan cousins overturned stones to reveal tiny crabs, sea stars, anemones, and all sorts of little creatures hiding beneath. Every discovery was met with wide eyes and another chorus of giggling. Watching the wonder on her face reminded me just how magical these places are through the eyes of a one-and-a-half-year-old. It’s easy to forget how incredible a simple tide pool can be until you’re seeing one for the very first time again. 

Back at the house we gathered around the television for yet another unforgettable World Cup match. Argentina found themselves trailing Egypt by two goals before staging one of the most remarkable comebacks of the tournament. Three late goals completely flipped the game on its head, and by the final whistle the room had erupted into cheers and disbelief.

After an afternoon siesta we made one final excursion to Ward Lake. Few places are more nostalgic for me than that trail. I grew up swimming, hiking, and spending countless summer days around the lake, and every visit seems to unlock another forgotten memory.  It was fun walking those familiar paths while now carrying my own daughters, imagining them making memories in the very same place.

On the drive home we made our annual stop at Totem Bight Park. It’s become something of a family tradition to take photos inside the clan house and among the towering totem poles.  Joni wandered through the site with her usual curiosity, craning her neck toward the massive carvings with a mixture of fascination and bewilderment. To her they must have seemed impossibly tall, colorful giants standing watch over the forest. 

That evening we celebrated my mom’s birthday together. Before dessert, Miche continued one of my favorite family traditions by asking everyone to share something they appreciated about Mom. One by one, each of us reflected on the ways she has shaped our lives and our family. By the end there were plenty of tears, including Mom’s, and more than a few misty eyes around the table.  I always appreciate that Miche insists we slow down long enough to say those things out loud. We often assume the people we love know how we feel, but hearing those words spoken is something entirely different. It’s meaningful, and it’s a tradition I hope our own girls grow up with someday.

The following morning arrived much too quickly. The house slowly transformed from a bustling family gathering back into organized chaos as suitcases were zipped, leftover food was divided, and everyone tried to squeeze in a few last conversations before leaving. Eventually the time came for hugs, tearful goodbyes, and promises to do it all again soon.

Joni handled the flight home like a seasoned traveler. Somewhere along the way, flying with two little girls has become less intimidating and more routine, a sentence I never imagined I’d write. By the time we landed, unpacked, and finally made it through our own front door, exhaustion caught up with all of us. We collapsed into bed grateful for the quiet, but already reminiscing about the previous two weeks.

Crab, Competition, and a Little Family Therapy

Last night’s fireworks extravaganza must have worn everyone out because, for the first time in what felt like forever, everyone slept in. Even the girls. Nobody was about to question such a rare blessing, so we enjoyed a slow morning together before settling in to watch some of the World Cup. Before that, though, I couldn’t help but notice just how much Joni has changed over the past few months. She’s in what has to be her cutest phase yet. She’s confidently walking everywhere, learning new words almost daily, and shamelessly flirting with every stranger she meets. Cashiers, waitresses, old fishermen, it doesn’t matter. She flashes that smile, waves enthusiastically, and suddenly has another admirer. She’s becoming such a fun little person. Evie, on the other hand, is still in what I would consider my least favorite baby stage. Communication consists almost entirely of crying, sleep remains a work in progress, and constipation has joined the list of daily adventures. Thankfully she’s beginning to develop a predictable rhythm with only a couple nighttime feedings, so we’re slowly moving in the right direction.

The United States is hosting the World Cup this year, so soccer has become a regular part of our vacation. Today’s match between England and Mexico turned into an instant classic. England carried a one-goal lead into halftime before receiving a red card almost immediately after the second half began. For the next forty-five minutes they defended wave after wave of relentless Mexican attacks. Every clearance, every save, and every counterattack ratcheted up the tension until the final whistle finally blew. It was one of those games that reminds you why sports can be so captivating.

Still buzzing from the match, we headed to one of my favorite Ketchikan traditions: the annual all-you-can-eat crab feast at George Inlet Lodge. The entire family came along, and as usual, we made quick work of the crab while many of our tourist counterparts cautiously worked through their first few legs.  The lodge holds a crab shell stacking competition every year, and naturally our table took home the title. Years of Alaskan experience finally paid off. The best part, though, was watching Joni happily devour every piece of crab I could crack open for her. She sat patiently waiting for the next bite and ate it as fast as I could shell it. That’s my Alaskan girl. 

After consuming what was probably an irresponsible amount of crab, we stopped by Hole in the Wall Bar for our traditional post-crab drink. The weather had finally cooperated, and everyone enjoyed sitting outside overlooking the water before making the long drive home.  Throughout the day Joni continued charming nearly everyone she met. I swear she now knows more people in Ketchikan than I do. The evening ended with a family game of Risk, where everyone once again underestimated my willingness to deceive, betray alliances, and quietly conquer the world. They really should know better by now.

Tomorrow was supposed to be our annual fishing trip, but Ketchikan weather reminded us who’s actually in charge. We woke to small craft advisories and the disappointing news that our charter had been canceled. We were all bummed. To make matters worse, the U.S. Men’s National Team followed it up by getting thoroughly outplayed by Belgium in the World Cup despite our enthusiastic cheering from the couch. Apparently our support only goes so far.

With our outdoor plans ruined, we pivoted to another family tradition: board games. What started as a friendly game of Monopoly gradually evolved into exactly what Monopoly always becomes, dramatic negotiations, accusations of unfair trades, loud laughter, pretend hurt feelings, and increasingly questionable financial decisions. The weather outside was miserable, but inside nobody really cared. We were all together, and that was enough. 

That evening my mom once again reminded us why nobody ever leaves her house hungry. She made her famous ginger-glazed salmon, a meal that somehow tastes just as incredible every single time. As dinner stretched on, conversation naturally drifted toward politics. Before long, voices grew louder, tabletops were pounded for emphasis, and everyone became just a little more passionate after a couple of drinks. It was spirited, occasionally intense, and probably sounded alarming to anyone listening from another room. Yet that’s one of the things I love most about my family. We can argue passionately, completely disagree with one another, accuse the other side of losing their minds, and then pour another drink, laugh, and move on. There are no lasting grudges, just people who care deeply about each other and aren’t afraid to speak honestly. Days like this remind me how lucky I am. Man, I love being home. Stay tuned for more photos. 

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Fireworks, Family, and the Fourth

Sorry it’s been a few days since my last entry, but they’ve been busy in the best possible way. *also I may add more pics later as I get them from others*

The Hogans arrived in style, and with them came the wonderful chaos that only a house full of family can bring. Suddenly every room was alive with conversation, cousins running around, cocktails being mixed, and incredible food appearing on every surface. It was the first time all four Hogan cousins had the chance to really spend time with Joni and Evie and they absolutely soaked up every second of the attention. They bounced happily from person to person, completely content to be doted on by everyone.  My parents had the house looking immaculate, as they somehow always manage to do, and walking through the front door immediately felt like coming home. 

Ironically, the weather couldn’t have been much worse. Rain settled in for most of the day, but nobody seemed to mind.  If anything, it forced us to slow down, stay inside, refill another drink, tell another story, and simply enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes the best vacation days aren’t the ones filled with sightseeing, they’re the ones where everyone is simply together.

The following day was one we’d all been looking forward to: the Fourth of July.

After another surprisingly decent night of sleep, Evie is finally settling into something resembling a routine, usually waking only twice to eat, we enjoyed a fantastic breakfast before dressing everyone in as much red, white, and blue as we could find. Then we headed downtown for Ketchikan’s annual Fourth of July parade. This year we scored seats outside the New York Cafe, which may have been our best decision of the day. We had great food, cold drinks, comfortable seats, and a perfect curbside view as the parade rolled past.  

The unexpected celebrity of the parade was Joni. She enthusiastically waved at every float, every marching band, and every passerby. In return, nearly everyone broke formation long enough to run over and hand her handfuls of candy. Before long, each Hogan cousin had figured out the obvious strategy: whoever was holding Joni had the greatest candy-collecting advantage. She unknowingly became the family’s secret weapon, charming her way into enough sweets to last until next Independence Day.   

After the parade we all retreated home for a much-needed afternoon siesta before gathering around what I firmly believe should be considered one of Ketchikan’s culinary landmarks: my parents’ halibut and chips. They’re so consistently good that one of the neighbors just happened to “drop by” around dinnertime. Whether it was coincidence or the unmistakable smell of fresh halibut wafting through the neighborhood remains open for debate.

As evening settled in, the men headed down to the beach to prepare the annual fireworks show. My mother, in her infinite wisdom, had purchased what could best be described as several crates of consumer-grade explosives. The resulting display was spectacular. Rockets soared over Tongass Narrows while the family watched, and every so often there was one of those slightly-too-exciting moments where everyone instinctively sprinted over slick seaweed covered rocks wondering if that particular firework had really been pointing in the intended direction. Thankfully, there were only a few unintended explosions and moments of diving for cover, which by our family’s standards counts as an overwhelming success. 

As the last fireworks echoed across the water, I couldn’t help but appreciate how lucky we are. We celebrated Independence Day surrounded by family, incredible food, laughter, and enough memories to last another year. Whatever challenges our country faces, it’s still worth celebrating the ideals on which it was founded and the freedoms that allow families like ours to gather together on a rainy little island in Southeast Alaska. It was, in every sense of the word, a fantastic Fourth. 

Treehouses, Cheese Wheels, and Coming Home

Well…it’s been a few days since my last entry. After our kangaroo adventure, we were up early to meet Kelly and Acaidia at the Imagine Children’s Museum in Anacortes. The fifty-minute drive was an easy trade for one of the coolest children’s museums we’ve ever visited.

Imagine isn’t just a museum, it’s essentially a giant invitation for kids to let their imaginations run wild. Every corner seems to lead to another discovery. There are towering climbing structures woven together with rope bridges that make you feel like you’ve wandered into a forest canopy. Tiny storefronts and imaginative play spaces transform children into chefs, mechanics, veterinarians, and shopkeepers within minutes. A hands-on water exhibit sends streams flowing through locks, dams, and channels while soaked children laugh uncontrollably. Upstairs, glowing neon lights, mirrors, and colorful projections create a room that feels halfway between an art installation and a dance party. Needless to say… Joni was in heaven.

She and Acadia scampered across the treehouse rope bridges like little mountain goats, splashed endlessly at the water tables, and danced beneath the glowing lights with the sort of uninhibited joy that only toddlers seem capable of.

Unfortunately, even paradise has a toddler-imposed time limit. About ninety minutes in, the exhaustion hit all at once. Tiny yawns became rubbing eyes, rubbing eyes became irrational negotiations, and we knew our window had closed. We said goodbye to Kelly and made the drive back toward Stanwood for her nap.

Originally, the rest of the day was supposed to be wonderfully lazy. One final evening at the beach house. But by that point we’d explored nearly every corner of the area, and a spontaneous decision suddenly sounded like the right one. Within an hour we had packed everything, loaded the SUV, and decided to head back to Sam and Mary Jo’s a day early. 

Google Maps apparently interpreted “fastest route” as “show them every rural road in western Washington.” We spent the next couple of hours winding through farmland, forests, and roads so narrow they seemed to exist solely for local residents and confused tourists. It was scenic, peaceful, and just a little questionable at times.

Thankfully, we eventually arrived safely, enjoyed another wonderful dinner, and settled in for the night.

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The next day couldn’t have been much more relaxing.

The morning disappeared into the simple rhythm that had become our vacation routine: coffee, slow breakfasts, and watching the girls play.

That evening we took Joni swimming, where to cold pool was not her favorite but she continues to thrive in these wet encounters. Later, the Ecks graciously volunteered to watch both girls while Emily and I escaped for a date night.

We drove to Kirkland and had dinner at Rimini, a cozy little Italian restaurant that somehow managed to feel both elegant and intimate without trying too hard. The Godfather played in the background, conversations drifted loudly through the room, and the aroma of garlic, butter, and fresh pasta made it nearly impossible to order just one course. 

Emily ordered the restaurant’s signature pasta, and the server wheeled an enormous wheel of aged Parmesan directly to our table. Fresh pasta disappeared into its hollowed center before being tossed with practiced flair as the warm cheese slowly melted into a silky sauce right before our eyes. It was equal parts dinner and theater.

Naturally, we paired it with a phenomenal bottle of wine. For a few hours, life slowed down. No diapers. No chasing toddlers. Just great food, great conversation, and a reminder that we’re still capable of having date nights. Eventually we made our way home to pack for yet another early morning departure.

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Our flight to Ketchikan arrived far too soon.

Thankfully, the Alaska Airlines Lounge worked its usual magic. Everyone was fed, hydrated, and had clean diapers. Frankly, that’s about all you can ask for before flying with two small children.

The flight itself went remarkably well, thanks in no small part to Emily, who spent much of it expertly wrangling an energetic Joni while the rest of us offered moral support.

When we landed in Ketchikan, the weather greeted us with something that feels almost mythical for Southeast Alaska: Sunshine.

As wonderful as this vacation has been, nothing quite compares to coming home.

Mom had the house looking absolutely immaculate and had stocked it with enough food to feed a small village. She and Dad immediately scooped up the girls, who happily soaked up every ounce of attention from Noni and Papi while proudly showing off everything they’d learned over the past few weeks.

The rest of the afternoon was spent watching Joni discover a fresh collection of toys, each one somehow becoming her new favorite. 

That evening my parents hosted an Irish-themed dinner with the Gallaways, and, in true Mom fashion, “theme dinner” meant complete commitment. Authentic Irish recipes. Irish music filling the house. Thoughtfully paired drinks.

Enough food for everyone to have thirds if they wanted.

It was one of those evenings where conversation stretches long after dinner ends and nobody seems particularly interested in leaving the table.

Eventually, we called it a night.

Evie reminded us that vacations may end, but newborn sleep schedules do not, making for a somewhat fitful evening.

Still, spirits are high.

Tomorrow the Hogans arrive, and if this trip has taught me anything, it’s that the best stories usually begin when more family shows up.