Anchorage and the Kenai

Aug 10 to 18, 2007


How outrageously fortunate! They’re having a heat wave in Anchorage and the Kenai Peninsula. A heat wave here is totally tolerable - it means temperatures of 70 degrees F and over and it actually reached 77 degrees F on one of our days. It was just like being in the Caribbean – especially with the azure sea.

Anchorage, a city of 277,000 is beautifully situated on Cook Inlet and they’ve taken advantage of its lovely site by having hiking and biking trails all along the shore even where there are no roads. Overall, Alaskans are a hardy, outdoors, athletic and health-conscious people and they walk and bike everywhere. The city reminded me a bit of what Vancouver was like fifty years ago – particularly in the setting. But we hankered to get away to the wilds after a bit of touring, some Geocaching and stocking up our pantry.

The Seward Highway south from Anchorage is spectacular – it’s very much like Vancouver’s exit to Whistler – the Sea to Sky Highway. It ringed Cook Inlet hugging the shore as it arced the soaring mountains. It was a feast for the eyes - the sea, sky and the sparkling glaciers. There were plenty of pullouts to savour the view and a few geocaches along the way. The road eventually reached the end of the inlet, it crossed the marshes and forged its way up through the sharp-spired, glacier-filled mountains.

We pulled in at the summit of Turnagain Pass; a long green valley full of graceful grasses and stunning wildflowers; it was used for snowmobiling and cross-country skiing in the winter. Walking trails meander invitingly through the tall grasses and flowers. Great place to spend the night – a view to take our breath away out our front window.


On sunny summer weekends, the residents of Anchorage pack up and leave in droves for the Kenai – trailers, motorhomes, boats plug the Seward Highway south. So we shouldn’t have been surprised when the lovely city run RV park right on the waterfront in Seward was full when we arrived midday on Saturday but we were downhearted. When we were in Seward in 2005 during a cruise from Japan, we strolled through the park and said if we ever visited with the motorhome, we must stay there. The location is superlative, a block from town and jutting out at the end of the peninsula affording amazing views of Resurrection Inlet and the surrounding towering mountains. We lingered there a bit though and a motorhome eventually left so we had our space. Now everything was perfect and we stayed for three days.


Fishermen (I guess fishers is the politically correct term but I didn’t see any women fishing) lined the shores of the inlet; fishing boats bobbed in the water; every stream and river were full of them. I guess it’s the national activity. They were catching salmon and plenty of them – from the shore as well as from the boats. While I was having breakfast and looking out at the ocean, a bald eagle swept across only 15 feet or so in front of the window and landed on a short pylon beside the water. Behind his perch, an otter glided by on his back grooming himself. Such an amazing sight.


A Holland America ship, the Ryndam sailed in early on Sunday morning right past us and docked about a mile further up at the end of the inlet. So the hordes were increased - but as most of the cruisers go on tours, they were dispersed onto sightseeing buses and nature tour boats.


We drove up to Exit Glacier, 12 miles out of town. It’s a glacier that you can walk right up to but it’s melting and receding quickly like the rest of them. I’m awfully glad we didn’t meet a busload of cruisers up there. It would have ruined the ambience of the serene and wild outdoors.


There were a couple of hiking trails in the area which coincidentally had a couple of geocaches along them so by the time we got home to Maggie, we had put many miles on our boots and we were flagged out. But, we had to do laundry – or should I say Fernie had to do it. He has elected it to be his job! I made him a sandwich and brought it to him with a cold drink while he laundered – good little wife that I am.


Our neighbours – Larry and Katherine.
Larry is such a cheerful fellow that he draws people to him with his gregarious and happy nature. He loves fishing and so the few days they spent on the shore in Seward, he fished every day. But he looked after Katherine first. Tiny Katherine - maybe 90 pounds at most - was crippled with what I believe could be osteo-arthritis – she could not walk at all. Her limbs were withered and bent and her hands and feet were like claws but her spirit soared as she tootled around in her motorized wheelchair always dressed smartly. I did wonder why she had ‘walking’ sandals on her feet – they were serviceable ones not decorative. Their motorhome had been especially modified with a large door and a powered elevator, which she’d drive onto and Larry would raise her up and in. The passenger seat had been removed and instead there was a bracket that held the wheel chair in place as they drove.
“How y’all?” she called out. They were both very hard to resist with their smiles and cheery greetings.
“We’re from Virginia via Missouri and Ohio but now we’re Virginians from right near Washington, DC” she answered when I asked.
“Is that one of them sea otters?” Larry called over to us as an otter cavorted about right in front of our RV’s. There was always a song in his voice and a grin as wide as his face.
Katherine’s abilities were minimal so Larry did everything outside and inside the motorhome, and looked after Katherine too. He never stopped moving. However, they didn’t like getting up in the morning and usually stayed in bed ‘til about noon.
“We’re nocturnal” Katherine crowed.
Fernie made their acquaintance before me and when he mentioned that we were just going to have cocktails, Katherine said, “Oh, we don’t do that – we’ve met the lord”.
Well, it obviously worked for them.
For us – I was busily shaking up some martinis to enjoy in our chairs in front of the magnificent vista.


Monday morning I opened the shades and was dazzled by the sun shining across Resurrection Bay – it was as if a million diamonds had been strewn across the water. We took our tea and coffee outside and whiled away the morning watching the fish jumping, otters and seals frolicking and gulls whirling.

Geocaching ruled the day. It took us partway up the perpendicular Marathon Mountain where signs warn “Ordinary public should not use this trail” and “If we have to call out Search and Rescue, you’ll have to pay”. Needless to say, we didn’t pursue it too far. Every July 4th, the City of Seward has a race up Marathon Mountain to the top and back down across the dangerous scree slopes. Obviously only lunatics, studly youth and those crazy Eco-Challenge kind of people would try it. Ironically, one block down is the hospital with its large EMERGENCY sign quite apparent. I’m sure it’s well used on Independence Day.

Lost Lake – that sounded like a nice trail to pursue – if you started in the early morning. It was a seven and a half mile hike in and we knew it would take us way more than three hours to complete it. Aha – the geocache was only a half-mile in, so all was well. It was a beautiful trail full of unusual plants and mosses. A visit to a gushing water fall and drives up both the east and the west sides of the inlet made us very familiar with Seward.


One cache drove us crazy. It said to drive to the end of Roundtable Road. When we found the approximate area, all the roads were named for the Knights of the Roundtable and we found every name imaginable except Roundtable. Excalibur, King Arthur, Guinevere, Lancelot, Moat, Knight, even Troll - etc. Interesting houses in the remote area on the side of a hill – some half finished, some just humble huts and log cabins, some high end with sumptuous gardens and almost all with signs that warned “Trespassers will be prosecuted” or “No Entry” – I was afraid to go up to a door and ask where Roundtable Road was. Alaskans are very private people. We never found it. The Seward Airport at the end of the inlet hid another quest near the beach - it was an area hit extremely hard by the huge 9.2 earthquake in 1964. The tidal wave swooped up Resurrection Bay and eradicated all that was there and it hit within 60 seconds of the quake. People didn’t have a chance to run away. Hmmmmmm……..where we’re camped I guess we’d be wiped out if it started shaking again.


We travelled west across the Kenai Peninsula along the Kenai River, the most beautiful waterway with sparkling aqua glacial waters - except for one thing, thousands of fishermen were in the river in their chest waders or on the banks of the river or fishing from the bridges. Sparkling Kenai Lake was ringed with fishing lodges and cabins and was covered with boats. All along the highway that followed the river were more lodges and camps. It was most depressing that this beautiful spot has been blighted by the onslaught of so many people. It reminded me of a scene I saw in a movie once – it was in Australia and a nuclear bomb had been exploded in the northern hemisphere and as the nuclear cloud circled the globe, it killed everyone in its path. Australians knew it would soon be there and their days were numbered and do you know what they did with themselves - - - they all went down to their local fishing holes and went fishing, fighting to find a vacant spot on the riverbank. So what is it about fishing? I don’t get it. It’s a blood ‘sport’. The worst is when they do what they call ‘catch and release’. Imagine the terror and pain the poor fish go through and all for the perverted pleasure of the fisher who doesn’t even fish for sustenance. ‘Sportfishing’ – that’s a term I can’t abide. I guess it means killing or maiming or torturing just for the ‘sport’ of it. But enough of my lecture – I’ll get down off my soapbox now.

Halfway across the peninsula, we left the mountains behind for mildly rolling hills and the more highly populated area of Sterling, Soldatna and Kenai. There’s a Russian influence on the west coast of the Kenai – towns with the names of Nikiski, Kasilof, Ninilchik, Kachemak and they have small picturesque Russian Orthodox churches where services are still held. We left Maggie in Soldatna for the afternoon and took a drive through the northwestern part of the peninsula through the city of Kenai and the little town of Nikiski but we ended up staying at Clam Gulch (that doesn’t sound Russian) south of Soldatna for the night. It’s not much of a town at all but it’s right on the Cook Inlet and the beaches are full of razor, littlenecks and butter clams. I wonder if clams feel terror and pain?

Anchor Point on the way south to Homer, holds the distinction of being the most westerly highway point in the USA. Halibut fishing is the thrust on this coast – and charters for the fishers who want the big trophy of a halibut that can weigh over 400 pounds and be up to 8 foot long. “Senior special – half a day halibut charter fishing expedition $89”. No more lectures!

It’s such a colourful drive south to Homer – the fireweed are thick and now in full bloom and line the highway; the road follows the coast of the wide Cook Inlet bordered on the other side by volcanic mountains and more glaciers of course – extremely picturesque. Kachemak Bay splits away from Cook Inlet with Homer at the base of the cape – a five mile long narrow spit of land surges across Kachemak Bay from Homer, seemingly half way across the bay. The city allows camping in most spots along the spit in a beautiful natural setting right beside the sandy beaches – that’s where we stayed for our days in Homer. At the top end of the spit, it reminded me of the pier at Santa Barbara with all the glitzy commerce and an expensive RV Park - $75 a day we were told.


A couple from Penticton pulled in beside us – a rare sight to see British Columbia license plates in Alaska. A pleasant twosome who left home about July 20th and followed almost the same route as us, they said “hasn’t the weather been awful – rain all the time?”
Now we didn’t understand that because we can only remember a few rainy days – were we just lucky being ahead of them by a few days or a week or is our perception of weather different because we’re Vancouverites and are well-used to rain. I guess it’s a bit of both. We were talking to them as we walked Caesar on the beach and they were complaining how cold it was and were all bundled up in their winter coats. We, on the other hand, were saying that weren’t we lucky that in spite of it being overcast, it wasn’t raining.

We poked around the area, headed out to old Ninilchik for a halibut lunch (I should feel guilty but as long as it wasn’t killed for fun….) at the Boardwalk Café. That sounds kind of fancy but believe me, it wasn’t. It was an old shack on the beach right beside the tiny historic village of Ninilchik but it was squeaky-clean run by an old woman who looked to have Russian roots to me. You’ll notice I haven’t mentioned Geocaching but that doesn’t mean we didn’t do any…..just don’t want to get boring. We didn’t have a map of the rural roads outside Homer and hoped we’d figure out how to get down to the mouth of Diamond Creek on Cook Inlet. We figured it shouldn’t be too difficult as the highway was only ¾ of a mile away from our geocache target, so we drove slowly through the country roads back and forth, reached a few dead ends and retreated to try another thinking if we saw anyone, we’d ask for directions. Suddenly, about five or six HUGE dogs, at least two were the most ferocious pit bulls I’ve ever seen, rushed our car – snarling and biting at it; they scared me to death. Fernie yelled “back up outa here” which I did nervously as the dogs circled the car – I didn’t want to hit one. A man in dirty jeans, long stringy hair topped with a woollen toque, cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth ambled out of his shack and glared at us……I gave him a wave and a smile but that didn’t charm him and the dogs kept up the attack. Alaskans are solitary and private and don’t like intruders. I was imagining if we’d decided to walk down with Caesar instead of driving…….they’d have made Caesar salad out of him and had us for the main course.


Amazinly, we pulled in a satellite signal in Homer. It was wide open across the ocean to the south, no mountains or trees to block a signal. We also had 4 or 5 TV local stations so it was kind of fun to have a couple of evenings of television. It rained the first night quite hard, but cleared by morning, so nothing to complain about. We’re starting to see signs of the approaching autumn now, some leaves are turning colour and blowing in the wind and it’s colder at night. How short the Alaskan summer is – no wonder they panic to get out and enjoy it.


A bit of a detour from the Seward Highway took us to Whittier, nestled at the end of a narrow fjord in the heart of Prince William Sound. Dwarfed by the walls of mountains that are covered with vast icefields, Whittier is a popular port for cruise ships that want to explore the numerous glaciers. Today with clouds so low that it felt like night was approaching, the Sapphire Princess sat at dock in the dark and dismal port. It had disgorged its passengers into numerous tour buses and distributed them around the Kenai. The only apparent ones around were the crew.

It wasn’t until the year 2000 that Whittier had road access. It’s only 11 ½ miles off the Seward Highway but through almost impassable mountains. So innovatingly, they modified the 2 ½ mile long railway tunnel to handle vehicles as well as trains. It’s a narrow and roughly hewn passageway that provides a single lane for traffic over the railroad tracks. Westbound and eastbound vehicles take turns using the tunnel – they let through as much traffic as can fit in fifteen minutes and then allow another fifteen minutes for all vehicles to complete the run. Then they alternate allowing the other direction to take their turn unless a train arrives and it takes precedence. It’s an odd route and they charge hefty tolls - $12 for a car, $35 for a motorhome. We left Maggie down the road and took the Honda.

We emerged the other end of the tunnel to the dank and dismal town, that isn’t really a town at all. All along the docks, huts have been built selling expensive hermetically sealed seafood & the usual tacky souvenirs intertwined with fish and chip cafes and fishing or glacier-viewing charter companies – everything the cruise ship passenger might want to spend their money on. A myriad of boats sat idle in the tight harbour alongside the railway depot and ferry terminal.

We crossed the tracks to try to find the town – a couple of humungous buildings could be seen on the steep slopes. Well the town consisted of a public works building, a fisheries an unkempt shop beside the grungy Anchor Inn hotel and those two large edifices that I needed to explore further. The first one looked like a prison with its grey block construction but on closer inspection, it was a derelict and deserted monstrosity – windows shattered and debris all around it. A half mile along, the newer building, about twelve stories I’d guess, was definitely inhabited. Shops and other businesses used the bottom floor, while the upper floors looked to be grim-looking apartments. In the rear, the state troopers had their office on the bottom floor and across a narrow road stood a school with hardly any windows. There appeared to be no houses in Whittier. Perhaps the extreme snowfall in winter is just too much to deal with so they all stay in this one building all winter long. It reminded me so much of Russia and its depressing lifestyle. I wonder who chooses to live there?


We grabbed one geocache from the dock area and were just in time to join the westbound flow out of Whittier. Strangely, when we emerged from the other side, it seemed so much brighter.


After a week in the Kenai, we’re ready to move on – back up to Anchorage where we’ll shop and on to our next destination – Valdez.