Seward to Ninilchik

We head out of Seward totally understanding why Leeann had decided to move here and spend a couple years living here. It is really a quiet little town with an influx of tourists in the summer but with a true local community at its center. It’s a working town not completely based on tourism. We really enjoy the pace and atmosphere here and, once again, think how easy it would be to hang out here a bit longer. Alas, we head north out of town and stop by The Pit Bar one more time to see Shelly. We ask for her at the bar but they haven’t heard from her since she left for the football game. They don’t seem to worried. They just figure she had a REALLY good time and will come back when she is ready. We get on the road and start retracing our tracks north (once again… the road goes in and stops so we have to go out the same way) and head North. It is already early evening when we leave and Susan has scoped a campground not far out of town where we can get a shower and do laundry. This has become a pattern for us here… camp in the bush for free most of the time but then find a pay-to-stay campground where we can get an internet connection, a real shower and reload on clean clothes. It is great being so self-contained where we can stop anywhere and have full power (12v DC & 120v AC) as well as hot water, shower and toilette all in our little Thumper. Our destination is Bear Creek, which is still open and will wait for our arrival. Susan checks in and finds that the young lady (probably 20 or so) behind the desk is the oldest of 9 children and is in charge of her siblings while the parents are on an anniversary getaway for a couple days. She looks kind of beat but cheerfully gets us set up. We pull into our spot and get comfortable for the night.

The day dawns bright and clear on the Kenai Peninsula, a place that Susan has wanted to visit for many years. It is a mystical landscape, the way the tree covered mountains rise out of the waters and the small streams cut deep canyons in the bedrock and create tall waterfalls almost everywhere you look. The fog hangs low and cuts the mountains in half so the tops just float in mid-air and appear much taller than their listed 3000’.

There is a side road. Really. It is a little by-pass that takes an alternate route for about 17-miles before dumping us back on the original road. There was a trail down to a lake that Susan read about was about half-way along the road so off we went ready to take a hike. The trail takes us through the fairly dense woods, across a slope where a fire had burnt years ago and down towards the lake. We met a family that was hiking out and they let us know that there were a lot of bear markings on the trail ahead. We thanked them for the info and continued onto the lake. It wasn't long till we began to see random piles of berry-mush in the trail which is winding it's way towards the lake. The area is pretty wide open due to the fire so we feel comfortable continuing our hike as we could see quite a ways all around. We made it to the lake and began waking along the bank and the number of berry-mush piles grew quite a bit and in both quantity and freshness.

These bears really need to add something else to their diet... seriously. There are rotting salmon and fresh bear tracks all along the beach and Jim is getting to that place of really feeling that we were being watched. The crazy thing about our walk there is that despite the distractions of keeping an eye out for a bear, Susan looks down and finds these rocks all painted up just lying in the beach... one is painted up with a native bear design and another had the word "Love" painted on it. Such a random find on this beach full of rocks. Susan thanked whoever left these for us and takes them with us as we make our return trip back to Thumper. We never do see the bear that was keeping an eye on us, but we sure know he is close by the whole time.

We don’t think we will make it the whole way to Homer today. When it comes to driving, we have been on the pattern of finding a place to camp somewhere around late afternoon. Jim doesn’t really like the idea of driving at night and with Susan looking (and hoping) to encounter a Moose he doesn’t want to chance it. We have really been enjoying finding a spot and getting settled and then going out on a little walk to stretch our legs and explore the area. Tonight is no different as Susan has done her research and found us what sounds like a great little campground on the Cook Inlet. We drive into the campground to find our spot but we aren’t too impressed with the campsites there. There is a road that goes down towards the beach and turn down that way to see what we find. We discover that the road leads us straight to the water… like right out to the beach. The Inlet is there in front of us and across the miles of water is Mount Redoubt, which is an active volcano and has recently put on a pretty good show. In fact, from this point, we can see 4 active volcanoes along the opposite coastline… quite an impressive sight. We talk to a couple who have been camping out on the beach all summer and they tell us that we can camp anywhere on the beach and point out some good spots. We talk a bit about it and decide to head out on the beach to find a spot.

The “beach” is not like a typical beach where it is all sandy. It is probably 100’ wide at low-tide, with the first 30’ or so made up of small, flat, round stones. This is followed by a 30’ band of mostly sand and then it turns back to the stone down to the waters’ edge. Fishman set up camps out on the beach every year during the fishing season pulling out trailers and boats. It sounds just fine for driving out in a pickup. We turn Thumper towards the beach and head on out to find our spot about a mile up the shore. We didn’t get very far before we found that the beach isn’t really suitable for driving a 9000# camper on and is more sucking us in than holding us up. Jim keeps trying different parts of the beach, from the dryer areas to the wetter, and finds that none of it is good for driving and decides to turn around and get back to the road.

Ya know that sinking feeling in your stomach when you realize you might be getting into a bad situation but already have gone too far to just call it off and have to keep going forward in hopes of getting out of it all without having to call your insurance agent and report some “minor water damage”? Well… let’s just say we were getting to that point. With some effort, Jim gets turned around and heads back towards the exit. We are just getting to that point of “Whew! That was close!” and are turning towards the road when all forward momentum stops and we start sinking into the sand. At this point, Jim thinks that Susan should go out and take some pictures of the event but Susan is battling that sick feeling you get when things just don’t look good at all and you might just end up on the evening news in the “Stupid Things Tourists Do” segment. Jim keeps trying different angles and techniques at getting us back onto solid ground but all attempts end up the same way… tires turning forward but Thumper just digging deeper into the beach. We try 4 or 5 different exit strategies when our camper friend comes over and explains to us how the fishermen get out. “They just back up onto the semi-solid part by the water and get a running start at it”. Ok… let’s try that and see what happens. We back up as far as we can and our friend stands up on solid ground and directs us. Jim gets Thumper moving parallel to the water along the beach and then turns towards the road where we are being directed. Thumper slows in the sand but keeps moving this time. Our camper's female companion, who is sitting in her chair reading a book, pumps her fist and cheers us on as we creep towards the road surface. Susan is still fighting that sicky feeling of seeing Thumper half submerged on the beach as we reach the road and get traction enough to pull us out of the sand. We never do stop to thank our cheerleaders for their help in extracting us off the beach and don’t stop moving until we hit the stop sign at the main road.

We drive south towards the small town of Ninilchik (ni-NIL-chik) to check out an official state campground that is, reportedly, situated on solid ground. We are both still coming down off our adrenaline high as we turned down a road that takes us to the old Russian Orthodox church overlooking the the water. This is a nice diversion from our recent experience and we get out to explore this beautiful church set on top of the hill. There is a trail leading from the church down the hill to the small, simple fishing village. It is a serene setting with the sun getting low and water and mountains in the background. We take a walk around the grounds before heading down to the campground where we hope to kick back and have an adult beverage celebrating our escape from the YouTube archives.

There isn’t too much to see at the end of the road in Ninilchik. It ends up that the campground is pretty much shut down but the camp host, Rick, was still there and finishing up cleaning up the area. Susan asks him if he had one more night in him and he responds, “I’m done here, you can stay all winter if you want.”

We talk to Rick for a while and learn the story of how he ended up as the camp host here 14 years ago. Seems he got kicked off of one beach after spending a month or so there and he moved to this beach. The ranger who kicked him off the first beach found him camped here where he was cleaning up the trash from folks partying on the beach during the past winter. She decided he wasn’t a bad guy and offered him the camp-host position. After hearing the duties expected of him, he accepted and has been spending the summers here ever since. “This is my front yard all summer” he said as he pointed out over the water. Rick has a pretty good life here and then he heads south to Montana to snowboard all winter. Susan and Jim try to figure out if they can get their name on the list to be the next camp-hosts when Rick decided to call it good.

Jim gets a fire going and Susan cooks up her extra-special, “best-fish-on-the-planet”, “Christmas Scampi” Halibut-instead-of-Scallops wonder dish for dinner. Someone up on the hill behind our camp whistled at us. Jim waved at them and we continued tasks at hand but soon we had visitors. Marie and Philip walked down the beach towards our camp. They are the couple that we saw at the camp in Seward and we stopped and talked to on the trail up on Exit Glacier. They recognized Thumper from their camp up on the ridge and decided to come down and say Hi. We invited them to share our camp and fire so off they went to move their camp down to ours. We all spend the evening out on the beach around the fire and getting to know each other.

Turns out, Marie and Philip are from Switzerland, probably around 30 and are on an 8-month journey around the world. They flew into Northern California and bought an older VW bus to drive around on the U.S. leg of their trip. They made it as far as Fort Nelson in Yukon, Canada when it started giving them trouble and now they are waking up each day wondering if it will start. “The engine is broken” is what the mechanic told them. It needed to be replaced, but they couldn’t afford that, so they decided to just keep going until they can’t anymore. We have a great night of talking and sharing and trying to keep warm around our fire before calling it a night and heading to bed.

We wake up to a cold morning and invite our new friends over for breakfast, coffee and a warm place to start the day. They are taking it as it comes, but Marie is starting to find the autumn temperatures a bit hard to live with in the bus. And now they are headed to Denali, in hopes of seeing the mountain before winter sets in there. Hmmmm, it's going to be waaaaayyyy colder up there. Thanks to Rick, we've inherited a pile of good, dry wood so we help them load it up in the van & give Marie a pair of extra thick wool socks. The night before we had taught them about heating rocks on the fire to warm their sleeping bags. So wishing them luck we send them on their way and head out to find Homer.

We awake Sunday morning to calm winds but still a lot of cloud cover and threatening rain. No worries… we come prepared. We gather our wits about us and move Thumper onto a side street in town and head for the local coffee shop. It seems that coffee and internet go hand-in-hand. Not a bad combination really, the only minor problem, is that after a cup or two of so-so coffee your heart is off to the races and your mind is thinking days ahead as you are now sitting there watching the little hourglass thingy pass time ever so slowly while you are trying to upload pictures into your blog. Can you say “painful”? Sure you can. We finally get a somewhat workable update completed and head back to Thumper. Time to change gears and get out on the trail. Whoops, it’s still raining. No problem, it’s Sunday! We lock things down and head out to The Pit Bar to check up on the Steelers and hopefully find Sherry. She runs the place and is a good friend of Leeann’s. Turns out she’s at the football game…in Seattle! It’s about 11am at this point. I don’t know how they do it here, I mean a 1pm kick-off in New York means Game-On in Alaska at 9AM! So, we get to The Pit just in time for the 2^nd half of the Steelers game… but that’s all we really have to say about that.

We leave The Pit as time expires and our beers are finished and head to Exit Glacier. It is just up the side road about 4 miles and came highly recommended by Kamaria. Exit Glacier was named as such as early explorers found it to be an “easy” exit from the Harding Ice Field way up top. Ice Fields are the big thing we don’t often see that can cover the tops of entire mountain ranges. Glaciers are what we do often see, which originate in the Ice Fields and reach down off the mountains. Many Glaciers can originate from one Ice Field.

It is misting rain and the clouds are hanging low as we begin our trek. It is a 4.2-mile hike UP to the Harding Ice Field. The sign tells us to figure anywhere from 5 to 7 hours to complete the UP and back. It’s 4:20 as we make our calculations. Susan figures we can hike until 6:30 but then we have to turn around in order to get back before dark. We synchronized our watch, checked our stash of trail-food, said good-bye to Thumper and headed UP. “UP” is the operative word here as I think the only step we took DOWN on the way to the Ice Field was the one we took when we got out of the truck. It is a 3000’ elevation gain in that 4.2-miles so all we can say is, thank goodness we are at sea level!

We pass a couple coming down the trail about a mile UP and they recognize us from the campground last night. They told us they had seen bears above the trail and to keep an eye open for them. Ok… Now we have something to keep our minds off the next step. The trail is a mix of dirt and gravel shelves cut into the mountainside punctuated by steep sets of steps made up of boulders and tree roots. By “steep”, I mean… well… picture a ladder leaning against your house… you get the idea. Susan starts muttering something about a striking resemblance to trails in Nepal. We flank Exit Glacier to the right and weave our way UP the trail. We do spot the bear as we come around a corner and some of the vegetation falls away. Well, we think it was a bear as it was about 2000’ above us on the next ridge over… so let’s just call it a bear.

We eventually crest a little false-summit which reveals Exit Glacier in all its glory right there in front of us. It is REALLY hard to get the vastness of it in a picture, but that top bit is about a mile across. We are about 2/3’s the way UP the glacier at this point and we can see the top of it as it disappears into the clouds and the Harding Ice Field. It is simply amazing! Otherworldly, actually. And from all reports, it is nothing compared to the ice field itself. We see some white “Dall Dots” higher up on the ridge and another couple hikers just ahead photographing them. “Dall Dots” are what you usually see from where you are when you are looking for Dall Sheep… did we cover this already?... anyway, they are usually a LOT higher than you are. We stop and talk to the other hikers (dad-Marty and daughter-Sarah) who were also on their way back down from the Ice Field. Marty assures us that the Dall Dots are only about another 15-minute walk away. Susan says we only have 12 minutes left before we have to turn back. Jim talks her into an extra 3 minutes and sprints off for the Dots. Just for the books here, sprinting uphill anywhere, even if it is at only 2000’ above sea level, isn’t really a good idea for anyone who has been sitting in a truck for the past 5 weeks.

Jim eventually gets to within shooting distance of the Dall Sheep (photographically speaking) and begins to add to our collection of out-of-focus animal shots. Susan completes the advance upon the Dots at her own pace and probably arrives in much better shape than Jim did.

We watch the herd for 10 minutes or so and then turn and make our first steps DOWN the trail. Our timing is about perfect and we should get down right at dark, barring any unforeseen circumstances, that is. Jim has a couple shots of what looks like Susan walking down the trail at midnight… but really… it wasn’t that dark… really.

As we exit the trail and get onto the paved walkway back towards Thumper, we find Marty & Sarah standing there waiting. “For what?”, we ask as Marty points ahead on the walkway. There is a cow moose and her calf just hanging out there, right where we need to go. Not being ones to let a 1200# mother and her kid get in the way of our warm Thumper, Susan and Jim run right at her and throwing little stones at her kid while using the flash on Jims camera to kinda make a stobe-effect to totally confuse them.

No… really we just waited there until they decided to move off the walkway.

We drive down the road to just outside the Exit Glacier Park entrance and pull into a parking area complete with a private bathroom. It is still doing it’s best to imitate a typical Seattle day being all misty and foggy and cloudy and damp as we warm up Thumper and revel in the joy of yet another day in Alaska.

Seward Bound

Seward Bound…

Our next official destination was Seward which lies on the southern tip of the Kenai Peninsula. Jim’s wonderful sister, Leeann, lived there for a couple years back in the 90’s and we needed to go visit her old stopping grounds. We had a list of things to do and see down this way both from Leeann and from Elise, our new friend from Kantishna, who had spent some years working and playing there as well. And besides, if we were going to take a glacier & wildlife sight-seeing cruise while we are in Alaska, it is Seward from where we would take it.

Our drive to the Kenai takes us right through Anchorage, Alaska’s largest city. We have not seen many traffic lights since Denver so we are not exactly looking forward to heading into the city… but that is where the road goes and so, then, must we. Alaska, by the way, has only about 600,000 residents but close to 70% of them live in Anchorage. The one thing we keep focusing on here is the possibility of cheaper fuel in the city, other than that, it’s right on through. Anchorage also sits at the north end of the Cook Inlet right where it splits into the Knik Arm and the Turnagain Arm. This is a very special place as far as tides are concerned.

The tidal changes in the Turnagain Arm can be extreme and quick insomuch as when there is a large tidal differential (between low and high tides) the incoming wave of the high tide can get to 6’ tall! People actually go out and surf this wave! We got to see a fairly good tidal change and watched the water heading out of the Arm in such a rate that it looked like a river with all the rapids and currents. It was so impressive to watch that Jim told Susan he could just pull up a chair and watch the tide changes for a day. It was getting towards evening and so we looked for a camping spot along the road where we could see the water.

We found a nice spot up on a little landing above the road and parked so we had a clear view of the Arm. Beluga Whales are also a common sight in these waters so we kept a sharp lookout for them as well. All set for the night, we watched the sun set over the mountains as we ate another wonderful meal. Susan recently thought that she should have been keeping track of our dinners as we have had so many good ones. In fact, Tim, who we met at Kantishna, suggested Susan should write a cookbook with all the meals she has made in Thumper.

Our first stop the next morning is a ski-resort town up the road a bit called Girdwood which sits in a Boreal Rainforest and therefore has a much more diverse array of plant life. Elise had told us about a nice little trail there and we figured taking a couple hour hike through the woods would be a perfect way to start our day.

The Winner Trail at first meandered through the forest of tall trees, BIG ferns and mushrooms in more colors than we’d ever seen (including purple!) then through a pretty impressive avalanche shoot. After a mile or so we drop down into a canyon and the trail ran along a medium size creek that grew as we went along. More beautiful mushrooms, glimpses of increasingly fast moving water, then a roar as the creek channels through a steep and narrow gorge tumbling into pools of deep blue, then dropping again, pooling and dropping.

The little bridge that crossed this chasm was only about 10 feet long-the air distance from one side to the other being maybe 6 feet (I could tell Jim was thinking about jumping it ;-), the drop from bridge to creek upstream was only 10 feet, the drop on the downstream side was probably 25 feet. So incredible! We hang out there for a bit and Jim continues to make Susan feel… well… just a bit uneasy as he climbs here and there trying to get the best angle for a photograph. The trail goes on further but this is as far as we are going so we retrace our footsteps back to the trailhead. Aside from this wonderful gem, though, Girdwood just seems to be another resort town full of condos and high-priced hotels. We poach a little free internet, make some espresso and head on down the road.

We make a turn at the far end of the Turnagain Arm and head down to visit a small town called Hope which sits across the water from the road we just drove in on from Anchorage. Leeann & Kamaria gave this place high ratings so we figured we should check it out. There was a nice campground at the end of the road there and we find a site tucked back in the woods. A little side note on the road thing… a LOT of roads here go in and stop. There is usually a town at the end, sometimes a campground or maybe an old mine but if you’re lucky… a hot-spring. We figured we would camp here tonight and head to Seward in the morning but after a little discussion on the topic, we decided to continue on towards Seward. You see... It was Saturday afternoon we were getting spoiled. I mean, we have been traveling with very few people on the roads or in the campgrounds. Now, here, on a nice weekend not far from the city, the sites along the water were all taken and, despite the fact that our site was really nice, we couldn’t see the tide changing from our front porch. This is simply not acceptable. Our thinking was that we can head south and explore the outer reaches of the Kenai and then return here mid-week and get a little water-front space for a night or so. We do a lot of thinking and a sometimes it actually pays off. Back on the road and towards Seward we go figuring at the rate we drive, we could get to town with a little daylight to spare.

We were anxious to get to Seward and start uncovering the lost years of my Big-Little Sister. We note The Pit Bar along the main road towards town. This is where Leeann worked while she was in Seward so it was definitely going to be a stop for us… but not right now... we need a camping spot. We go into town still letting *Aunt Alvina’s travel journal guide us and found the City Campground right by at the waters’ edge. After a little civil cnversation about where to set up shop, we find the perfect spot right where we expected it to be. Aunt Alvina spent $1.50 per night here back in 1972… we are spending $15.00. With Thumper backed into place and the heater fired up, we settle in for a windy night. The clouds are low and it’s trying to rain and our little oasis rocks back and forth in the gusts. Somehow, our neighbor has a fire going. We settle in and cuddle up for our first night in Seward.

* In 1972, Jim’s Aunt Alvina, along with his grandparents, Bill & Velma Tribely and his oldest brother, Lou, drove from Pennsylvania to Alaska and back. Aunt Alvina kept a travel journal along the way and we have a copy of it with us. We read about their experiences and where they stayed and we have been trying to revisit as many of those places as we can on our trip. It has been a fun comparison between then and now.

Talkeetna was our goal. Carol, Jim’s mom, was the first of many people who felt we would love it there. They all were right! We pulled in late on a rainy afternoon to this village on the south side of the Alaskan range, launch point for most all of the Denali climbs and, until it’s “discovery” a few years back by Princess tours, just a regular working town. The Talkeetna Roadhouse dates back to 1914... and the general store is not much younger. The main street holds about a dozen stores and eateries including a brewery. The original airstrip is just off Main Street and the community center is the old hanger.

We had heard from Jim’s folks that Todd Basalone, a Pennsylvania native who graduated with Jim’s brother Ralf, had been living in Talkeetna for a while and owned the pizza place. So after finding a quiet side street to camp for the night, we headed over to Mountain High Pizza Pie. Todd was not in, but Kristin, also from PA, was our waitress and made us feel quite welcome. Mountain High serves up a REALLY good pizza, spinach salad and one of the best barley wines I’ve ever enjoyed (Alaskan Brewing Company, on tap here only because they sell so much beer for ABC). We sat outside in the beer garden, visited with Kristin and watched the world go by, which it does very slowly around here now that the tours busses have stopped for the season. She explained tourism is a blessing and a curse here. Yes it does bring in some income, though many of the cruise tours drop people at shops owned by the company and maintain their own hotels in the interior of Alaska as well, so the money doesn’t really get put into the local economy (except for the lower paying service jobs), rather it goes back to the outside parent company. Talkeetna is a bit different because it does have some small, locally owned, craft shops and they have always had some travelers coming through because of the mountain, just not in groups of several hundred at a time. Before tours started coming to town, residents really had a 12 month economy. People worked the jobs they could find or started a business, fixed things for each other, hunted, grew food or gathered what nature provided, but they made it year round on their own. Now it’s more like a 6-month economy where many folks really depend on the tourist dollars and lots of places close down for the winter. All the local folks we talked with while we were there were pretty philosophical about it, but the longer-term residents especially missed just being a quiet little town. Filled with the best pizza we’ve had in a long, long time we headed off to bed, looking forward to seeing Talkeetna in the light of day.

The next morning dawned clear (have we mentioned how that happens to us a lot here?) so we wandered around the corner and down the main street to explore. We made it to the old railroad tracks where Jim was delighted to find they were replacing timbers and so had many old spikes laying around just waiting to be collected. As we were headed into the Roadhouse for breakfast (yup-two meals out in a row! But they make their pancakes with 100 year old sourdough-how could we resist??) a man called out from across the street at the pizza place. It was Todd (Kristin had pointed us out to him). We were glad to finally meet him. He seemed so familiar. We both said later that if we didn’t know better we’d have sworn he was Lou’s lost twin. They look alike, sound alike and have similar mannerisms as well as a great sense of humor! Turns out it was Todd’s birthday and he was headed into Anchorage with a friend to see some music that night, but he invited us to go out and spend some time at his place anyway. “It’s on the most beautiful lake! It’s so peaceful, I’d really like for you to be able to enjoy it. I’ll be back tomorrow anyway and we can hang out then” Well, ok then. We made arrangements to follow him out there a little later and went to eat another yummy Talkeetna meal.

Now sometimes people will tell you that they live in a special place, and you might be able to see why it’s special to them, but let me tell you, Todd’s place was off the hook! About 20 minutes out of town we turned down a small road, to a dirt road to a drive and then out into a clearing in front of a nice looking 2 story wood house. It was, as he had said, on a serene lake surrounded by forest (in gold, red and green) with islands dotting the otherwise glassy surface. High bush cranberries and the last of the year’s wildflowers filled the meadow that bordered his big garage/work shed a little way from the house.

Todd has done an incredible job of retaining the natural flora around the house, while clearing enough space to create wonderful areas for hanging out, including a deck that over looks the lake, a floating pier from which to fish or just hang out and a nice grassy lawn for Frisbee or throwing a ball for the dogs. Yes, four of them! There’s Thea, old and sweet as Sharkey was and about as stiff. Roxie, a cute little Rottweiler who just showed up in his yard one day, Mojo, his big, beautiful black lab and Guido, a kind of rolly-polly pug who seemed to pretty much straddle the canine-human line. Such a fun pack.! Made us miss our Zuma dog even more! Oh yes, there was also Cosmo the kitty, who of course took a special liking to Jim ;-)

I knew seeing the yard that Todd had done a ton of work, but when he took us inside and started talking about the evolution of the house I couldn’t help but think “This man really is from PA! J He’s painted most of the house in what Kristen later called “Steeler’s gold” (with a few complimentary colors) and decorated with really cool local art and Steeler and Penguin paraphernalia .

We had a great time getting to know each other hanging out that morning and as a bonus got to meet his friend Jamie (from Phili!), but eventually they had to get on the road. Todd left us with a beautiful fillet of red salmon and instructions to get into the kayak or the canoe and get out onto the lake. He directed us to one particular island where he has a campsite and a couple good fishing holes and off they went for the evening. Well, you didn’t have to tell Jim twice to grab a rod after he got bit by the fishing bug back in Valdez. The next thing I knew he was down on the dock with a cigar, his pole (and Todd’s) “just to see what was out there”. I had a wonderful time sitting in the quiet beauty reading. After a bit we decided to adventure off in one of the boats and managed to find not only the camping island but three or four others as well.

I cannot adequately describe the experience of paddling along with nothing but crystal clear water and trees surrounding us. Todd had given us such an amazing gift, just by his spontaneous generosity, opening up his home to people whom, despite one being from his hometown, were really strangers to him. We hope someday to be able to return the favor!

After our paddling, we got down to fixing dinner. Just as it was finished cooking, Kristen and her boyfriend Zack pulled up. They are living with Todd for a couple weeks while finishing up some work on their own place down the road. We had a great night hanging out with them and swapping stories. It was another wonderful experience of connecting with people you felt like you had known for years.

In the morning we got to hang out a bit with Todd again when he got back, but we had a mission to get Jim’s bike repaired and with a name of someone, who might know someone who could do that, we said our good byes. We have found this is an interesting and consistent feature in Alaskan towns. There may not be a bike shop, for example, for hundreds of miles. Indeed that was the situation here. But somewhere in town there was likely to be a person possessing skills and enough of a bone yard to help out the local biking population as needed. The trick was finding them. In this case, Todd and Jamie agreed that Danielle, local pilot and avid biker would be the go to person. Since she owned only a bike (and a plane) but no car she either could fix bikes or knew that someone who could. And Wahoo!... She did! Ralf Hoeppner of We-Cycle. He lived out of town on the way to Anchorage. Jim gave him a call and he said that we could stop by later and he’d see what he could do. Beauty. But before town, we left we really had to have one more meal at Mountain High (and a shared barley wine since we wouldn’t be getting to Juneau and the brewer). Well, we thought the pizza was good, but the calzone… I could go on & on! Let’s just say it was an extremely tasty lunch AND dinner the next night, for both of us. Thanks Todd! Oh yeah, I meant to mention how he got his start in the pizza business: selling homemade calzones in the lot after Dead shows. He’s a mighty good cook and did well enough to keep himself comfortably on tour for quite a while. His retired VW bus still sits behind the beer garden. J

On the way out to Ralf’s we turned down a dirt drive with a “Fresh Vegetables” sign that I’d been eyeing since we first pulled into town. We’ve been missing the homegrown food that is usually so much a part of our lives this time of year and have not let a farm stand go by unvisited. The road wandered down to the river where it opened up to a lovely old house surrounded by gardens, greenhouses and some random out-buildings . A fit looking gentleman in his late 60’s greeted us, though there was no “stand” in site. Turns out Ed’s idea of sharing his bounty is to walk you around the many plots of veggies and flowers to see what’s ready to be harvested. If you are interested in taking it home, he’ll pick it for you right then. It was a delight to wander the property discovering beds of this and that, all thriving, while talking with a man who moved to Talkeetna in the early 70’s. In the end we had a HUGE bag of beautiful food, which fed us for the next week and heads full of stories and philosophy that will continue to nurture us for a long time to come.

When we arrived we found a sign on Ralf’s door that read: “This is a home business. If we are home, we are open for business. 24-hours a day, 7-days a week, (unless it’s a nice day and we are out riding)”. And riding is what this couple is all about. They have bikes with FAT tires built for riding in snow, bikes with frames designed to carry some serious weight for touring, hauling kayaks or whatever the situation requires (moose meat? it is Alaska) and bikes for just blazing away the miles from one place to the next. Ralf knew what was up and fixed the problem with Jim’s bike in less time than it took for me to untangle mine from the straps that held it to the rack. Since we were there, I asked him to look at my very poorly functioning derailleur, which he did and was most frustrated that he couldn’t get it to work 100%. Oh well. It worked well enough and now, thanks to Ralf, we could actually ride our bikes! J But, once again, it was the experience of just hanging out in his garage, decked out as a high end bike shop, talking about riding in Alaska, the people who come through and the life that Ralf and Tracy have built here, that left us feeling so grateful and inspired. Everywhere we have ever traveled, we have met great people, but there is something about the folks in the far North that shines so brightly. They are capable, creative and kind. It’s really a winning combination.

Leaving Valdez...Harder than we'd thought

We woke early on Tuesday morning in hopes of getting a standby spot on the ferry over to Whittier, but alas, even arriving hours before they loaded we were 7^th in line. As the gentleman working the ticket window said, “Not a chance”. Oh well. Plan B, which was hugely appealing due to the extraordinary landscape in which we found ourselves, was to go on a hike then head out to Talkeetna. The fog had lifted while Jim fished the day before and the mountains surrounding this little bay had revealed themselves. OH my! One of the tourist booklets we got somewhere along the way had a title “Valdez…even Mother Nature has favorites” and I have to say they spoke the truth. Snow covered peaks that dropped straight into the sea. No less than 4 glaciers visible right from town. The water here is an unbelievable green-blue and so calm, during our stay, that it mirrored everything.

Sea Otters and Harbor Seals were playing among the boats, catching salmon and generally seeming to have a fine time. Eagles, bald and golden, as well as many other birds seem to love it here as well. The Exxon disaster, which was 20 years ago now, caused a serious backlash against the oil companies. Significant practice improvements and much tighter supervision seem to have really benefitted the area, which is not to say that it’s been a full recovery, but many of the species are thriving again.

So off we went down to the Slough trail, which winds through a forest of elder trees and past two HUGE cottonwoods and out into the wetlands along the sound. Salmon were swimming up the little streams (I mean really little-so shallow their dorsal fins were out of the water much of the time) and many had obviously already laid their eggs and were dead or dying in the gravel. Kind of crazy seeing it all just like they taught us in school! We wandered out to the beach and walked along marveling once again at our luck and at the small rocks (of course) that where everywhere here. So many had been rounded into discs of varying sizes it was amazing. We found a nice spot and settled in to just enjoy it all. Across the bay we watched as the ferry grew kind of big and then very small, making it’s way out to Prince William Sound and beyond. What we knew to be a huge tanker came in, but looked it looked so insignificant against the water and mountains it almost seemed like a toy.

While I collected and sorted rocks, Jim got creative and built a Goldsworthy-style stone egg. It came out great and may still be standing if the tide hasn’t washed it away. While we were both absorbed in our rock-play Jim called to me quietly and pointed up the beach. Moseying along toward us, clearly in no hurry, was a Brown Bear. Jim had the wherewithal to pick up his camera and get a couple shots. I, on the other hand, was running through all the ‘what to do in a bear encounter’ information I had read in the past month. “No running”. That’s good, cause the beach was rocky and I’m sure he was much faster than me. “Try to look big”. OK. I walked slowly next to where Jim was sitting and put my arms up over my head. “Talk firmly and calmly to the bear”. Hmmm, calmly? My heart was pounding so loud I figured he could already hear that, but he was still walking straight for us. “Hello Mr. Bear. Nice to see you….” He swung his head up, seemed to finally recognize we were not a big rock that had mysteriously appeared on his familiar beach and shot off into the brush. Wow. Some sense of relief there, but also a wish that I had waited so we could have checked him out a bit more. It was way beyond cool to see this giant creature in his home, looking for fish or berries or maybe just enjoying the stellar day. We stayed a while longer, kind of hoping he’d appear down along the water somewhere, but I guess we were enough of a surprise to keep him off the beach the rest of the morning. And the salmon were running all over the place, so perhaps he just went for sushi.

Making our way back across the wetlands toward the truck I think we were both feeling the same sense of not wanting to leave. Valdez is an extraordinarily beautiful and special place, among the many we have seen on this journey. We took our time, stopped at the espresso shack and to get some post cards.

We drove slowly out of town listening to their community radio station, entertainingly enough in the middle of their fund drive. Getting back in the car after a photo stop on the edge of the old town site some 3 or 4 miles up the estuary we decided to go back to KCHU and make a donation. After all where would KAFM be if folks just thought about supporting it? The drive back in was breath-taking; the scenery that had been obscured by fog on our first ride in was out in all it’s glory. Made me glad we’d turned around. So did the visit with the nice folks at KCHU. Jim gave them a couple CDs for their collection (Hot Buttered Rum, Big Water and Pimps of Joytime). We got a nice hat for our donation as well as a sense of being part of a cool little community if only for a day. As we headed out the second time, we swung by to get one last espresso from the girl in the hot pink fishnets.

Fishing isn't about catching fish!

First off, I want to thank Susan for making me relive my fishing experience in Valdez simply for enjoyment of others. Secondly, I wish to thank Uncle Karl and my Dad for supplying me with the tools I needed to ensure I was able to fish for days on end, if required. The vision of coolers full of fresh salmon being delivered from my fishing line directly to doorsteps across America was like an addiction right from the first cast. What is that motto they are using against drug use?, “Not even Once!” Well, it’s way too late now. The Silver Salmon were running, 3 weeks late this year, and just in time for our arrival. License in my pocket, pole and tackle in my hands, I was off for the pier. It was 12:53pm, I remember it well. My first cast into the cold waters of the bay using the best looking lure in the tackle box was perfect, right where I wanted it and right where I KNEW the salmon would be the thickest. I could see the salmon in the water, they were everywhere, but somehow they resisted my good-looking lure. Inconceivable! I shifted my way down the bank towards an area with an especially large number of salmon breaking the water surface. Again I cast, again they resist. Tony, a local 5^th grader comes down by me and sees all the fish and says he’s going to catch one, “good luck”, I think. And ya know… before I could get my next cast untangled from the seaweed he yells out, “I GOT ONE!” Sure enough he pulls in a nice 20” salmon and then says, “Excuse me, Jim? Could you help me?”

I have now somehow become the official hook remover for Tony as he pulls in 4 or 5 nice size fish one right after the other. I’m thinking, “Dude. You really have to figure out how to do this yourself.” I manage to find a moment to make my escape and move out onto the pier to try my luck out in the open water a bit more. Tony’s older brother, Mikhail (a 6^th grader), is fishing out on the pier as well and begins to educate me on the finer points of fishing for “Silvers”. Turns out you don’t even need to cast that great looking lure out at all, simply release the line, let the lure drop to the bottom, then pull it up a little and just wiggle it a bit… “Like this”. Wouldn’t you know it, he latched onto a nice fish that takes his line for a run and then spits the hook. Ok… I’m in! Drop down, Pull up a little & Wiggle. Drop down, Pull up a little & Wiggle.

Seems so simple.

It’s a beautiful day in Valdez by any standard. One guy in shorts walks by and I make a comment that any day you can wear shorts is a good day. He replies, “Yep, 5^th day this summer!” Wow, did we luck out, being here on such a day. Mikhail and I continue to fish off the pier and exchange fishing theories as Tony continues to catch fish off the shore and lure some unsuspecting onlooker into doing the dirty work. Even Susan got sucked in but was able to get out after just one. Mikhail gave me a bigger sinker and I put on the second best looking lure in my box. At this point I decide it is time to light up my lone cigar and channel the fishing friends of mine, namely Dave, Uncle Karl and, my brother, Ralf. Now I have a winning combination for sure. I cast out several times anxious for my first hit. One cast was reeling in a bit harder than the previous couple hundred but I thought it was only more seaweed. But as I pulled the lure from the water I saw a wonderful sight on the hook… a nice 6” Bullhead. Now, I'm not quite sure what a Bullhead is, but Mikhail assured me that was indeed a Bullhead. Oh Golly, I'm hot now! Unfortunately, I was too excited to stop and get a picture of this trophy and quickly returned it back to the water so I could begin casting again. Susan came over about this time and I informed her of my success and she seemed quite pleased. It was close to 5pm at this point as Mikhail and Tony had to be home. I was now on my own but I think I have enough information to really get serious and get down to business.

I move down the pier and try my luck in different locations before thinking I should move back on shore where everyone else has been fishing all day. Susan accompanies me in my move and offers her suggestions for where I could try next. It was good having Susan there to help as she was instrumental in rescuing my lure which somehow had found its way into the back of a boat across the water. As we are trying one more spot from the pier, a fellow on shore starts pulling in a couple nice size Silvers. We decide to head over by where he is and try there. At this point I am thinking that I am done with the pretty lures and I am going with the local method… snagging. Snagging requires a LOT less talent and a LOT more luck. Since there are so many fish in the water all you have to do to snag them is to put a BIG treble-hook on your line, cast it out and yank it quickly back through the water. Every couple casts you get lucky and your hook gets caught on an unsuspecting fish and Waa-La! You have dinner. Again… seems so simple.

Round-a-bout 8pm, I talk to the little kid fishing not far from me who is all excited about catching his 17^th Silver and says, “They’re running right now!” “Whatever”. Susan and I stand on shore watching fish jumping all around where I am casting. “Over there” she says, “Try down that way”.

At one point I reel in my cast and find a poor little fish, about 4” long, that was unlucky enough to be in the way of my hook as I pulled it back in. I mean this thing wasn’t even big enough to be bait! How can I manage to hook a 4” minnow and not be able to snag a 20” Salmon? Let’s just say we’re lucky that we are not relying on my fishing skills to survive up here. I cast out a couple more times and all of a sudden I got a good one! This thing is fighting and jumping I find myself using all the knowledge I have acquired from hours of fishing with a 6^th grader. I manage to get the monster Silver out of the water and up on to shore and request some assistance from Susan who is actively documenting the whole experience.

I reach down to secure my prize when it looked me in the eye, quickly removed my hook from its body, gave me a that “Sucker” look and flopped itself back into the water. Come to think of it, Mikhail never actually told me what to do if I did manage to catch a fish. But now… with newly adapted strategies in place, I go back to work. It’s getting dark and Susan is ready to change dinner plans to macaroni & cheese, but I am not one to quit after only 8-1/2 hours of casting… nope, not me, I've only just begun. With a new sense of purpose, I cast defiantly out into the bay............................................... Nothing.

Susan decides to head back to Thumper to start heating the water for the macaroni as I continue my efforts.

It was just about dark when my line went tight as I reeled it in from the last cast. My heart pounded as this Silver did its best to eject the hook that was imbedded in its tail. It jumped and thrashed as the crowds on the boardwalk above were cheering me on and hoping they could go home soon. I was able to get this beauty to the shore and then walked straight backwards pulling it onto the bank, up the hill, across the street and to the grassy area where I felt confident it could not make it back to the water on its own. Finally, after 8 hours, 56 minutes and 23 seconds, I have dinner… and if our freezer works, a couple other meals. I took it up to the cleaning station and proceeded to do my best to respectfully fillet it. Susan stepped in at one point and tried her hand at it to see if we could actually get a decent fillet off of this fish or if we really just needed to be happy with the chunky pieces. In the end we decided that we really needed to apologize to the fish.

So was my day on the shores of Valdez. Our salmon was wonderful and we did get three good meals from it. But I just want you all to know that you can quit waiting for that cooler full of salmon to arrive at your doorstep.