Homer, Alaska on Katchemak Bay

Homer, Alaska

On Sunday, July 22nd, we packed in the rain, obviously, and headed north out of Seward. We continued up the Seward Highway then turned west onto the Sterling Highway toward Soldotna and beyond. As we drove through the little towns on the western side of the Kenai Peninsula, we were surprised at the volume of traffic heading out. Our journey took us through Soldotna, a large town with lots of shops and even more traffic. Farther south, we found Ninilchik and Anchor Point, both tiny communities perched on the bluffs above beautiful but foggy Cook Inlet.

When we pulled into a scenic overlook just north of Homer, our ultimate destination, only a little bit of the view wasn't obscured by fog. By the time we got out of the RV, the overlook was completely covered in a fog so thick we couldn't even see the opposite side of the road, never mind any of the rumored vista. We waited patiently for the fog to lift even a little, but for all of the 20 minutes we were there, it did not.

Low tide, Katchemak Bay

We continued south into Homer through the marshmallow-fluff-thick fog and made our way to the Homer Visitor Center, where we found a friendly staff lady to guide us to the city's campground literature. We selected the beach front along the Homer Spit to set up camp. An ideal location for seeing the Kenai Mountains and the Katchemak Bay, we took a hike to the end of the spit to check out our environs. We found the small boat harbor and a glut of little shops offering local tours, fresh fish or handmade crafts.

A fish processing plant at the end of the spit brings in the day's catch from the larger boats while the crew of the smaller vessels fillet and sort their catch at one of the fish cleaning stations around the harbor, like we had seen in Seward.

Low tide, Katchemak Bay

We walked back along the opposite side of the street and on the beach a short ways. The beach is an accumulation of flat and round rocks varying from the size of a quarter to that of a basketball, making a nice romantic stroll look more like two staggering drunkards.

We returned to the RV for happy hour and cards while awaiting low tide. At close to 9:30pm we walked out onto the rocky tidal flats stretching out in front of the RV. The seagulls ran at the edge of the surf and picked at the mussels strewn about the tide pools. The snow-capped Kenai Mountains looked beautiful in the little bit of evening sunshine shining down on them from under the thick clouds.

In front of the RV, on Katchemak Bay

Hoping to catch a glimpse of more wildlife, we drove to Bishop's Beach back in town. Working our way carefully down the slope to the beach there, we saw the makings of a perfect beach evening. A nearby bar hosted a band whose music drifted out toward us from our left, and a small bonfire warmed the folks tending it off to our right. Straight out we walked over a field of big rocks, increasingly slimy as we neared the sand bar beyond them. The sand bar is where the razor clams hide and locals go clamming for them during extreme low tides. Tonight, though, no one was out working and the few folks we saw were enjoying the cool summer evening relaxing. A couple of paddleboarders came in from sea, another group walked with their dog on the rocks, and we took pictures of the bay and the mountains while listening to the music and smelling the wood burning in the bonfire. Wow. The average high temperature in the summer here is 60 degrees, the low only 46 degrees. With today's high temperature at only 52, it got quite chilly in the evening, so no toe-dipping tonight. Reluctantly we returned to the car and drove back to the RV.

Bishop's Beach

On Monday, we awoke to the sounds of our fellow RVers moving around outside, as well as the seagulls calling to one another overhead. Our day began with a visit to the Alaska Islands and Ocean Visitor Center where we watched a short film about the Katchemak Bay Research Reserve. The Reserve functions to educate the community about the bay's wildlife, habitats and need for protection.

Bishop's Beach at extreme low tide

A short walk out the back of the building led us down a path through the wetlands to Bishop's Beach again, where we strolled on the vast stretch of land exposed by the extreme low tide today at noon. Stepping carefully through the water and sand, we walked as far out as the tide would allow and then made our way near some seabirds picking through the rocks for food. Realizing the low tide point had passed, we headed back in to avoid being cut off with the rising water and having to wade through it to return to shore.

Back on dry land, we walked toward the visitor center then detoured over a foot bridge near the Beluga Lake Slough. The slough is a saltmarsh flooded twice daily by the rising tides whose grasses feed and protect seabirds and other animals throughout the year. We returned to the visitor center and watched another film, 'Journey of the Tiglax', before listening to a ranger talk. Both the film and the ranger discussed the Herculean efforts of Bob 'Sea Otter' Jones to save the native seabirds of the Aleutian Islands from the ravages of introduced predators -- foxes and rats.

Cute Sea Otter!
(pic by Mike Baird, from Wikipedia)

Jones was also instrumental in the replenishment of the sea otters along the southern coast of Alaska. Sea otters, whose fur is the thickest and warmest of any animal on Earth, were hunted to near extinction first by Russian fur traders beginning in the late 1700s and subsequently by the Americans after Alaska's purchase. With the establishment of the Alaska Maritime National Wildlife Refuge and through the efforts of dedicated conservationists, the sea otters' population has seen a resurgence and they have spread once again throughout the islands and eastward to the southeastern Alaskan coastline. These adorable swimmers can be seen in tourist brochure pictures floating on their back, feet up and ridiculously cute. Ha!

Boardwalk on Beluga Lake Slough

We walked through the museum exhibit which highlighted the habitats of the animals now protected by the Refuge as well as the past impacts by non-Native people on them, such as the military occupation during WWII, the intentional introduction of foxes (and unintentional one of rats) as well as the zealous market hunting of sea otters, fur seals, walruses and several types of whales.

Evidence exists showing Native people had co-existed successfully along the Aleutian Islands with the animals for over 9,000 years until contact with Russian traders brought disease, forced relocation, slavery and death. The descendants of those who survived the two centuries of enslavement still call the islands home. What a fascinating visitor center and museum.

Cosmic Kitchen

We headed out for lunch and quickly decided on the Cosmic Kitchen. This quirky little restaurant served us the tastiest meal we've so far eaten in the entire state of Alaska, Yukon and all of British Columbia. Ken opted for the daily lunch special of a grilled salmon quesadilla and I chose the turkey burger. Both were excellent, served in a homey atmosphere with a smile, and reasonably priced. What a breath of fresh air over most of the restaurants we've tried in the last 5 weeks or so.

We continued our tour of Homer by driving to the end of East End Road where the views of the Katchemak Bay are spectacular. The 3 glaciers we could easily see across the water truly looked like rivers of ice frozen in place between the black mountain cliffs. The fjords drop precipitously to the bay below while the clouds and the sun vie for the peaks.

View of Homer Spit and Katchemak Bay,
with Beluga Lake in foreground

Next we found Skyline Drive, a road whose higher altitude allows even larger views of the bay and the Kenai Mountains. The toe of the Wosnesenski Glacier dips almost to the waterline while the Grewingk and Portlock Glaciers peek out from their high perches above the bay. We could spot Fire Island off in the distance, as well as Homer Spit, whose bisection of the Katchemak Bay separates the salt water of the Cook Inlet on the west side from the glacial melt freshwater on the other. With tide changes nearing 28 vertical feet here, the different nutrients in the glacial freshwater and ocean saltwater combine to nourish the huge variety of seabirds, fish and plankton that live near this estuary.

Wosnesenski Glacier

We soaked up as much of the view as the drizzle and clouds would allow, thankful that we could see anything at all. We made our way back to the coach (and again past the bald eagle who has taken up residence atop a specific pole next to the road) for afternoon tea and dinner and an evening of hilarity playing cards out of the ever-present rain.

We're starting to grow moss.

Seward, Alaska: How NOT to haul a boat from the water...

Filleting a rockfish

On Thursday, July 19th, we drove south along the Seward Highway, after picking up our newly repaired computer, now without the malware that brought it to its knees. The Seward Highway is a scenic byway, and rightly so, with gorgeous views of the Turnagain Arm of the Cook Inlet after leaving the congestion and construction of Anchorage.

Halibut, rockfish and others
awaiting their turn on the table

We continued and spotted two bald eagles along the way, our first wildlife sightings since leaving Denali. We stopped for lunch at one of the many scenic overlooks along the muddy flats of the Turnagain Arm. A couple of hours later, we pulled into Stoney Creek RV Park, just north of Seward and quickly settled in for a nice evening.

With the evening sunshine and bright blue skies so rare for most of our stay in the Anchorage area, we didn't waste time before venturing into Seward to take in the sights. We made our way into town near the docks where the fishermen were busy filleting the day's catch under the watchful eyes of a throng of curious folks, us included. We were thoroughly entertained.

Sitting on a sea otter bench!

The boats tied to the docks bobbed in the light breeze and we could see yet more fishermen returning from a day at sea.

Oops

One poor group, as they tried to pull a boat from the harbor on their trailer, forgot to hook up the safety chain. When the winch strap broke as the truck moved up the boat launch, the sound of the hull crashing onto the pavement and then grinding backwards was cringe-inducing. The vessel, now caught a few feet short in each direction from both the water and the trailer, was quickly surrounded with embarrassed and unhappy crew members unsure what to do. Phone calls went out, concerned folks came running and still others took pictures. We fell into that last group.

Somebody's due for a beatin'

When a red-shirted man arrived, his loud cussing and yelling gave him away as the unlucky owner of the beached vessel. We thought it best at this point to continue our tour of the town elsewhere.

We headed farther into town and veered off on Ballaine Street along the water. We pulled over at the sign marking the original beginning of the Iditarod Trail, a path used traditionally by Native Alaskans as a trading route with each other and then the Russians and subsequently used by intrepid explorers for access to the interior of Alaska.

Resurrection Bay

The views across Resurrection Bay, on which Seward sits, are stunning. The mountains rise to meet the sky above the blue water that stretches out to the sea. We continued touring through town by driving up one street and down another until we found a small business district with several restaurants offering very similar fare for very similar prices. (We suspected either collusion or simply lack of creativity.)

In any case, we selected Alaska Nellie's Roadhouse, a charming restaurant decorated on the inside like the outside of a barn. Unfortunately, we were not as impressed with the food, but lately that has become expected.

We pressed on and found several streets with cute little houses and well-tended gardens, before ending our tour at the grocery store. And though we recognize this Safeway as the same company we find on the east coast, the prices and selection are decidedly Alaskan.

We headed back to the RV for dessert and cards before turning into pumpkins. For the first time in quite a few weeks, it was actually pretty dark as we hopped into bed at 11:30pm.

Exit Glacier in Kenai Fjords NP

On Friday, the sunny skies we were promised in the weather forecast did not materialize. We spent much of the day waiting for the drizzle to clear and the sun to appear. Neither occurred. Nonetheless, we ventured out in the late afternoon to Exit Glacier in Kenai Fjords National Park, the largest road accessible glacier in Alaska.

Notice the tiny people on the trail

On the approach to the visitor center, little signs indicate where the toe of the glacier reached at different years past. In just short of 200 years, the glacier has retreated well over a mile and a half. By the time we arrived to see it, the pictures of the glacier on the plaques describing it were sorely out of date, showing it much farther down than it currently is.

Plaque showing the extent
of Exit Glacier's retreat

We hiked from the visitor center to the glacier, about a 1 mile walk over much of the rock and gravel the retreating glacier has exposed in the last 10 years. The glacier itself is one of 40 fed from the Harding Icefield, a 300 square mile field of ice over 4000 feet thick. We took in the view of the blue ice from the observation area, then hiked up a short trail a bit closer to the ice. We could feel the cool breeze coming off the ice towards us, but the steep drop down to the edge of the glacier kept us from touching it. Apparently the edge of the glacier is a mix of ice and gravel and can collapse, easily trapping an animal (or human) underneath the glacier itself. Yikes.

Resurrection River

We wandered around the mosquito-heavy grounds swatting madly, but still enjoying the view. Heading back toward town, we stopped at an old bridge over Resurrection River where we noticed the wind was stronger and the water much faster and angrier than what we had seen trickling out of the bottom of the glacier. We returned to the RV for dinner and movies until bedtime.

Saturday was a day we had planned to take a long hike, hopefully all the way up to the Harding Icefield. Our promised 'partly cloudy with a 20% chance of rain' looked a whole lot more like '100% cloudy with 100% chance of rain' all day. We huddled in the RV laughing about how our 'beautiful day' had the mountains choked with fog, steady rain coming down and the sun hiding completely behind the thick clouds. We watched movies all day and stayed dry inside. We still managed to enjoy our day together, but what lousy weather!

Hatcher Pass and Independence Mine

Along Hatcher Pass

On Wednesday, the 18th, we began the day with some minor RV repairs before heading out to the scenic area of Hatcher Pass, a 71.2 mile mostly gravel road between Palmer and Willow.

Bunkhouse No. 2

We drove to the Palmer entrance of the pass and headed out toward Independence Mine, about 20 miles down the road. Robert Lee Hatcher discovered gold scattered in the quartz veins of the granite near the summit of Skyscraper Mountain in 1906, but extracting the gold from a vein required heavy equipment and tunneling.

Bunkhouse No. 1 with
collapsed mine buildings on left

Independ- ence Mine was formed in 1937 after two separate mining companies joined to become the Alaska-Pacific Consolidated Mining Company. With several much smaller operations in place earlier, the mine operated from 1937 until 1943 when gold mining was classified as non-essential to the war effort. It re-opened in 1946 but closed again in 1951, never having regained its former glory or profitability.

Hatcher Pass Lodge

Between 1936 and 1951, over 181,000 Troy ounces of gold were extracted from the mine. Subsequently, the entire site along with 271 acres of land around it became part of the Alaska State Historical Park system in 1980. Today, what remains of the mine are several interesting structures in various stages of disrepair. Some had already succumbed to the ravages of time and heavy snow before the park system had even acquired the property. Those structures now look like pancaked versions of their former selves.

Independence Mine

Collapsed mine buildings

We toured the old buildings, including the manager's house, the mine office and commissary, both bunkhouses, the mill complex and the mine shops. We peeked through telescopes at several dilapidated structures high on the mountain peaks above the mine site, as well.

We hiked up around the top of the entire site as the clouds rolled in above us. We continued along the trail and farther up the hillside to the Gold Cord Mine, a much smaller, privately-owned series of old buildings just above the Independence Mine on the mountain face.

The two bunkhouses

Across the valley, we could spot the old ruins of 'Boomtown', once about 20 houses privately built and owned by married miners, now reduced to a single cabin and some timbers of a few others. We hiked back down to the car after our 2 hour walk, having seen all the way down the valley to the town of Palmer off in the distance. What a gorgeous day!

Little Susitna River

We headed to an early dinner (having skipped lunch for our great hike) and back down Hatcher Pass along the Little Susitna River. This stunning river begins as a glacial trickle some 19 miles upstream and, after accumulating snow melt, rain and tiny springs along the way, becomes a raging torrent of water rushing over huge glacially-deposited boulders in the bottom of the valley.

Independence Mine and valley
down to Palmer in the distance

We dined at the Denali Restaurant, a pleasant diner with tasty food not far from the RV park. Over happy hour at the coach, we plotted our course of action for the next several weeks.

What a beautiful day!

Anchorage and Talkeetna, Alaska!

Anchorage Market and Festival

On Saturday, July 14th, we awoke to heavy clouds, but, mercifully, no rain. We headed into downtown Anchorage to check out the Anchorage Market and Festival, a weekly event held on Saturdays and Sundays all summer long.

We mingled with the locals offering everything from spiced nuts to beaver slippers. And there was certainly no shortage of reindeer sausage or giant bags of popcorn for sale. Implausibly, we found vegetables at high prices again...those same green beans at $9.99 a pound and a single giant zucchini for $10. Outrageous.

We wandered over to a little deli for lunch before ducking into a few shops along the main corridor in downtown. The sun peeked out and warmed us as we wended our way to the Ulu Factory, a well hidden gem of a store in an industrial part of town nestled between the train tracks and Ship Creek, where the salmon run. The factory offers the Native Alaskan knives made right there on site.

An ulu is a traditional tool made with a semi-circular blade and either a wooden, bone or antler handle. It was originally designed to skin furs from animals or blubber from whales, as well as being used in finer tasks, like sewing. Now, while still being used by Native peoples, it is offered to tourists as a super useful kitchen knife.

We headed back toward Wasilla, purchases in hand, to walk around Wasilla Lake. Unfortunately, the lake is bordered by private homes on one side and the busy Parks Highway on the other, so our walk was brief and loud. Apparently, the lake serves as more of a canoe trail, with 7 miles of uninterrupted paddling available to those so inclined. The beautiful views of the mountains are all around the lake, at least on clear days.

We returned to the RV for happy hour, dinner and cards, and perhaps, inevitably, the obligatory rain shower.

Sunday saw rain almost all day, and though we tried in vain to see some sights, much was closed for the day or invisible due to the weather. We spent the rest of the day in the RV relaxing with a movie. Our Monday began (predictably) with pouring rain, so we ventured out to rent three more movies. After watching the first of our marathon, the sun began to come out, so we headed out for a walk in Lucille Lake Park. With so much moisture, the mosquitoes forced us back to the car rather quickly without so much as a glimpse of the lake itself.

Cute pup...but not The Ed!

We decided to visit the nearby Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race Headquarters. The log cabin building houses an exhibit of past race memorabilia, newspaper articles and anecdotes about mushing. We petted the tiny puppies and sled dogs outside before watching a film focused on the improbable wins of Lance Mackey, a four-time consecutive race winner. His feat was considered virtually unimaginable before he accomplished it based on the sheer number of experienced competitors against whom he raced.

Mt. McKinley

The Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race was established in 1973 through the combined efforts of Dorothy Page and Joe Redington. These two proposed the race as a revival of the historic trading route and dog mushing that opened interior Alaska to the rest of the coast. This race traverses almost 1100 miles of rough terrain through mountain passes and frozen tundra while battling isolation, howling winds and minus 20 degree temperatures, beginning in Anchorage and ending in Nome. How fascinating, though not a race in which we'd ever participate. We returned to the RV to finish our movie marathon and have dinner.

Mt. McKinley

On Tuesday, the sunny skies forecast for the day woke up much later than we did, but at least it was finally sunny. We left to head north to Talkeetna, some 50 miles or so away. Along the way we were treated to the sight of Mt. McKinley several times, how nice! We stopped at a scenic overlook and took pictures of the mountain reflected in the lake next to us.

We continued on to Talkeetna, a town established in 1916 as a divisional HQ for the Seward to Fairbanks government railroad route. The town is also the site of a traditional Athabaskan fishing and trading location, at the confluence of three glacially fed rivers: the Susitna, Chulitna and Talkeetna. This adorable little hamlet offers gift shops, cafes, ice cream stands and a couple of little museums to those who make the trip to the 'end-of-the-road' town.

We first walked to the end of Main Street where the pavement gives way to gravel and then to a little path to the banks of the river junction. Mt. McKinley stood off in the distance some 120 miles away hiding behind the clouds, but peeking out in bits and pieces to wave hello. We walked back to the nearest eatery, a food truck called the Mexican Moose, for tasty and messy pork tacos and burritos. Yum!

We followed the historic district self-guided tour and saw how most of the old buildings now hold businesses or museum exhibits, though several are in serious disrepair. We found the oldest structure in Talkeetna, a log cabin built in 1916 by Ole Dahl, a Finnish trapper and miner who was lured like many others to the area by railroad work.

Another interesting building in town is Nagley's Store, built in Talkeetna close to the river between 1917 and 1921, using logs from the original structure operated by Horace Nagley in Susitna Station. It was moved to its current location on Main Street in Talkeetna in 1945. (It even stayed open for business during the 3 day move up the street on log rollers!)

Trying desperately to soak up all the time we could with the view of Mt. McKinley, we walked back down to the beach a couple more times, though each time the mountain was obscured more and more with clouds. Naturally, I had to dip my toes in the chilly glacial water...so cold!

Historic Knik, now a ghost town

We headed back to the RV and after a nice dinner with cherries for dessert, we took an evening drive along Knik-Goose Bay Road in full sunshine. We drove out to historic Knik (pronounced kuh-NIK), a once thriving trading town that was virtually abandoned overnight in 1917 when the railroad was instead built through Palmer and Wasilla to the east. We found the 4 little structures that constitute the remains of Knik. The former roadhouse is now a museum and the others are an old cabin and 2 smaller outbuildings, all nestled in the woods near the Knik Lake.

We continued on and found an overlook of the Knik Arm of the Cook Inlet, a huge body of water that leads to the Gulf of Alaska. We could see the beautiful Chugach Mountains across the water, some with snow. We stared in awe and took pictures of the mirror reflection in the Knik Arm.

Old boat mired in wetlands next to Knik Arm

As we ventured back toward town, we passed an idyllic spot where the land and water blend together in a green marsh. There, stuck in the tall wetland grasses, was an old wooden boat mired in the mud, listing to one side. We stopped to take in the improbably picturesque scene and snap some pictures. Wow. What a sight.

Knik Arm of the Cook Inlet with
Chugach Mountains in the background

We continued into town and picked up some happy hour supplies while watching the golden evening sun dancing on the mountain peaks to the south. The prettiest day so far (by a mile) in the Anchorage area, we wrapped up the evening with a brew. We saw the sun dip below the horizon finally, after 11pm, though it was still very light out, of course.

What an awesome day!