KODIAK -- Kelp, sea anemones, jellyfish, waves and gulls. Add multiple blizzards and you could be on any Kodiak beach this spring. Except that I was at a dress rehearsal for the Woodland Dance Studio spring recital. These seagulls were wearing tap shoes.
I overheard, "We need more time to get the cannonballs out. We're missing a sword. Where's the treasure map? Top of mutiny! She doesn't have any lobster claws. Where's my rope?"
The nautical theme was a fitting choice for Kodiak, home to the biggest fishing fleet in Alaska. One of the featured dancers, a junior in high school, survived several days in a life raft after her family's fishing boat sank a few seasons ago.
My younger sister teaches ballet and also works as a fisheries biologist in Kodiak. For the past several months, she forecast salmon runs during the day and choreographed pirates and mermaids in the evening.
This year I talked my mom into taking an adult ballet class with me. After a season at our setnet site, I'm pretty good at balancing on slippery beach rocks and seaweed. Facing a wall of mirrors on my first day of ballet class, I hoped gracefulness might come naturally. That notion ended within a few minutes. Ballet is difficult in surprising ways. During our first lesson, I only recognized a few words (all sounding like food) -- fondu, sauté, frappé, croisé.
The dance studio is near Spruce Cape. On stormy mornings it's a challenge just to close the car door against the wind and cross the ice to the studio. Inside I'm glad for a warm, bright room to move and stretch in. I forget the weather and relax into the music. I like the ideas behind ballet terms -- the step of the cat, to spring, to free, to melt. In this class it's OK to ask questions and laugh at ourselves. There may be fewer options in a small town, but it's less intimidating to try something you have always dreamed of doing.
During the weeks of rehearsal leading up to the show, parents shuttled dancers and delivered meals through snow and rain. Volunteers sewed costumes, painted sets and chaperoned dozens of little performers during dress rehearsals.
Our family saw firsthand the amount of work that went into this performance. My mom helped glue sails together. My husband attached wheels to a giant ship's helm. A family friend, the skipper of the F/V Lynx, provided an extra herring seine for the set and a Fish and Game manager loaned my sister his pirate costume.
Alexandr Smirnov, a professional Russian danseur, flew to Kodiak to play King Neptune in the performance. The day of the show, Kodiak florists sold out of roses. The auditorium was packed.
As a girl, I dreamed of being a ballerina. I practiced ballet poses from an old book with a broomstick my mom set up horizontally like a ballet barre. But by the time we moved to a town with dance classes, I felt uncomfortable being the oldest kid in the beginner class.
My sister became the dancer in our family. And when I see her on stage, I always think that is exactly as it should be.
The show didn't end until after 10 p.m. when more than a hundred happy, sleepy sea creatures and pirates gathered for the curtain call. As the crowd surged onto the stage to pick up their dancers I heard, "That was wonderful. You looked beautiful. We are so proud of you."
Sara Loewen lives, writes and sometimes dances in Kodiak.
SARA LOEWEN
AROUND ALASKA