The Rest of the Chugach

This weekend marks my last full weekend in Alaska before flying back to Washington to make the final presentation from my internship. It's amazing how quickly this summer has gone by. But, there's still the drive back to look forward to, and always another adventure after that. This weekend I decided to head back into eastern Alaska, an area I haven't really been to since driving up here. The basic destination for this trip is Valdez, at the end of both the Richardson Highway and the Trans-Alaska Pipeline. My friend Matt from up here wanted to accompany me on this trip, and everyone else had shifts to work or didn't want to tag along. So, I worked 10 hours per day for Monday through Thursday of this week to get my 40 hours in and was able to head out today.

We began by heading north on the Glenn Highway out of Anchorage like usual, only heading east through Palmer and staying on the Glenn Highway. When I drove in originally, I mentioned that the Matanuska Valley was extremely scenic, but had no pictures at the time to show of it. I took a few this time, but it was rather cloudy and the valley didn't have the magic spectacular-ness I remember from my first time there.
At the head of the valley is the Matanuska Glacier, one of the most accessible glaciers in Alaska. The state park service claims that there are only three glaciers accessible by road in Alaska-he Matanuska Glacier east of Palmer, the Worthington Glacier north of Valdez and the Exit Glacier north of Seward. We would get to see two of these today, starting with the Matanuska Glacier.
A lot of white water rafting trips start in the Matanuska River just below the end of the glacier. Apparently thousands of years ago the glacier used to extend all the way to Palmer, some 50 miles west of its current terminus, but over the years it has retreated. We didn't drive up to the glacier, but did stop at an overlook to take the photo above.

The road then continued out into the widening Copper River basin, between the Chugach Mountains to the south, the Talkeetna Mountains to the north, the Alaska Range to the northeast and the Wrangell Mountains to the east. The valley really widens out as you approach the city of Glennallen, which is some 150 miles from Anchorage. The area is covered in black spruce forests and dotted with glacial lakes.
Normally, on a clear day, you can see the massive, snow-covered volcanoes of the Wrangell Mountains on the eastern horizon. Alas, major wildfires in the Alaskan interior made it so hazy that we couldn't see any of those mountains. We turned south on the Richardson Highway to Valdez at the city of Glennallen, which has nothing really in it except for a few gas stations and some administrative buildings. The first part of this drive south was spend trying to see any of the Wrangell Mountains. All we could see was the entrance sign for Wrangell-Saint Elias National Park, the largest national park in the country.
Wrangell-Saint Elias National Park is mostly a wilderness park, and it covers almost the entire southeastern corner of the main body of the state--all the way down to near Yakutat. Tomorrow the plan is to drive down one of the roads into the park, so I'll leave further descriptions until then.
As we headed south, Matt got really hungry and wanted to stop some place to eat. Of course, this being the middle of nowhere in Alaska, there literally are no services whatsoever for the next hundred miles or so. However, there was a sign for a loop road through the small village of Copper Center, and a sign advertised food, so I hoped to find a gas station with a Subway or something in it for him. The road looped around, past some houses and a few small stores, but no real food places. It was looking like Matt was out of luck. As the road swung back around, there was a junction in it where the main road continued on it to the right, but there was a side road with a green sign and an arrow pointing down it that said "Loop Road". I knew that we were on the "Copper Center Loop Road" so I assumed I was supposed to go that way, though my major instinct was to continue along the road I was going down. So I took the "Loop Road" and immediately thought it was going to just dead end somewhere and I had taken a wrong turn. Then, we came around a corner and saw this:
A very random, well-kept "Roadhouse" motel/general store/restaurant with several people stopped there. I was immediately satisfied that this was a decent place and we went in and had lunch. I had a very good roast beef sandwich with potato salad on the side. Such a random place to stop...and to think I almost didn't take the "Loop Road". This Roadhouse seemed to attract more locals than tourists or travellers, which was also different from most of the Alaska places I had been to. We were amused to sit in their small dining area and overhear bits of conversation from the people in the kitchen or out in the lobby. Conversations like,
"Hey...do you know whose black dog that is?"
"What? No...I've never seen that dog before..."
"Well, he keeps trying to get in the back screen door."
"Do you have your paintball gun?"
"Sure do...but I don't...hey, wait a minute...didn't some lady say she had lost her dog earlier today?"
"Oh that's right...don't remember who, though. Go next door and ask Mrs. Winslow. She was in for breakfast this morning and might remember that."
"All right. I see her in her garden now..."

Seems like such a mundane conversation, but it only further emphasizes just how random stopping here was. We didn't know this place existed until we happened upon it, and the food was decent and we were entertained. Pleasant stop. They even had one of those old-fashioned type gas stations across the street that was actually a working gas station instead of a deserted, abandoned shell of a building.
After finishing lunch, we followed the "Loop Road" around, which rejoined with the "Copper Center Loop Road" and then headed back to the Richardson Highway. We continued south Valdez and entered the Chugach Mountains. Now, the far western edge of the Chugach Mountains is in Anchorage, so this is a very "familiar" range to us. This was the eastern part of the mountains, though, and I thought this part was a bit more scenic.
Many mountainous vistas.
Ironically, the Trans-Alaska Pipeline actually parallels the highway all the way into Valdez. However, it's almost entirely buried at this point, since they don't have to worry about melting permafrost this far south. After driving up for a ways, we came to a turnoff for the Worthington Glacier. We thought this was worth the stop and we turned off.
Though it's not the most spectacular glacier, it still is rather impressive. They have several short, paved trails leading to viewing platforms near the glacier's base. From there, several small footpaths are visible in the glacial till surrounding the glacier that head up to and along the glacier. Loose rocks made these trails a bit interesting to follow, but we decided to head up a short ways down one of the paths we could see to get a closer view.
You hear a lot about glacial moraines, particularly if you live in southeastern Wisconsin. For instance, Kettle Moraine State Park is full of hills that are the moraines left by the glaciers after the last ice age. Moraines are just hills of soil and gravel that build up on the edges of glaciers and then are left as the glacier retreated. The glaciers that covered Wisconsin were much, much more massive than our little Worthington Glacier here. However, the mechanics are the same, and there were several small moraine hills around the base of the glacier.
There were also a lot of streams all filled with meltwater rushing down around the glacier.
After a bit of exploring, we continued heading south on the Richardson Highway toward Valdez. We started climbing to Thompson Pass, the highest summit on the highway as it goes through the Chugach Range. While only half as high in altitude as the Atigun Pass through the Brooks Range up north, it's still a decently tall pass at over 2,000 feet. This location is also one of the snowiest places in the United States during the winter.
The pipeline also crosses this pass (though it is underground). From here, it's all downhill to the ocean, so the oil in the pipe is just carried by gravity all the way to the end of the pipeline at the port of Valdez. We, however, decended a series of wide switchbacks along the road decending the other side of the pass. It was enough of an incline that I didn't have to use the accelerator on my car for a full five miles on the other side. You can see these odd, bent poles on both sides of the road. These are to guide snowplows that have to try and keep this road clear in the winter. The cross parts come all the way over the stripes on the edges of the roads so the snowplow drivers don't get too close to the edges.
At the base of the decent, we entered a river canyon called Keystone Canyon.
It reminded me a whole lot of the Big Thompson River Canyon in Colorado, the one that famously flooded in the 1970s. It was just the road and this raging river with steep canyon walls on either side.
The canyon only lasted a few miles, but it was fun to drive in and there were several waterfalls coming down the canyon walls. However, the road soon began winding down towards Valdez. A few miles further and we could see the massive Alyeska Pipeline facility that marked then end of the Trans-Alaska Pipeline. We couldn't get up there because there were security gates. However, you can see all the big storage tanks where they store the oil until tanker ships can come and pick it up.
Of course, many people remember the Exxon-Valdez Oil Spill in 1989. Yes--the Valdez part of that ship's name comes from this port city--Valdez. The actual oil spill itself occured just a little ways from Valdez out in Prince William Sound. The area is as cleaned up as it can be now, but I'm told that for years you could still find oil slicks out on the sound from that disaster. Many of the beaches near here still have darker veins of sand where there's still oil mixed in that had washed ashore. Just some background there. This visit out here also means that I've been to both the beginning and the end of the Trans-Alaska Pipeline. It seems so familiar now...
We entered the city of Valdez and it was...a lot smaller than I had expected. It has a population of over 3,000 and is slightly larger than Seward. However, it's clear that this is a fishing and oil industry town and not as much of a tourist town. They had one street by their harbour with some touristy shops and tour places. More on that tomorrow, though. We ate dinner at a nearby restaurant that advertised the "best New York-style pizza in town". I don't think there was much competition, but the pizza was decent. We got to our Best Western hotel on the waterfront and are going to bed early for our trip back into the Wrangell-Saint Elias National Park tomorrow.

There be whales here!

This weekend one of our group up here wanted to take a cruise to see whales and this sounded like a fun idea. We found a three hour "wildlife" cruise out of the city of Seward for $60 per person. Not exactly the cheapest thing ever, but still not too bad. We decided to make a full day trip out of it and see the city of Seward, another popular Alaskan destination. So, this Saturday morning we headed out.

Seward is on the eastern shore of the Kenai Peninsula, so the first half our drive was retracing last weekend's drive down Turnagain Arm and through the Kenai Mountains on the Kenai Peninsula. This time, we took the road to Seward instead of Homer.
I really don't think that the drive down to Seward is that spectacular, but it is one of those "Alaska Scenic Byways," so I suppose it must be something scenic? You stay in the mountains and drive through a lot of trees, but I don't think that these mountains are as scenic as most of the other mountains in Alaska. But that's just me. One of the guys who was on this trip with me thought that the drive was spectacularly scenic. I suppose it all depends on the perspective. Since I was driving, I didn't take any pictures.

We got into Seward around 11 AM. It's only 130 miles from Anchorage to Seward and the speed limit is 55 or 65 for most of the way. Because of this, I don't understand why all of the guidebooks say that the drive is estimated to be around 3 hours. It took us 2 hours and 15 minutes. Seward has about 3700 people and sits at the end of Resurrection Bay, which is more off the Gulf of Alaska than off of Prince William Sound, but it's pretty darn close to Prince William Sound. The city is divided into two sections--the harbour tourist area and the downtown tourist area. We parked in the harbour tourist area, since that was where the cruise would depart, at a public use parking lot that charged $5 per day. The harbour area reminded me a lot of Homer, though without the quaintness of being out on a sand spit.
As you can see, the marine layer was in and the skies were all cloudy, but it was still rather warm with temperatures in the upper 60s. I will say that I did like Seward's Tsunami Evacuation Signs more than Homer's. Seward's signs include a stylized stick-figure man charging up a hillside ahead of the angry monster wave.
We ate lunch at a local restaurant, where for the first time I saw cod being served as a main fish dish in addition to halibut. Seward is still known as a major halibut fishing area, but apparently there are some kinds of Pacific cod in the nearby waters and I was able to enjoy a fish and chips lunch. We then walked the mile down the road to the downtown tourist area.
Downtown Seward is like that typical-looking "historic" downtown, with the quaint storefronts, advertising local products and souvenirs. I bought a shirt that says "Seward, Alaska" on it a one store. I am continually surprised at, with all of the local pride, how difficult it is at many of these gift shops to find shirts that have the name of the city on them. I can understand that it's probably more cost-effective for some huge screen printing shirt company in Anchorage to make a bunch of "Alaska" shirts and distribute them everywhere, but I want to wear a shirt that reflects the locality, the city I visited, as opposed to just the state. Anyhow, we also stopped at a local museum and spent about an hour looking at relics and photos describing the history of Seward.

I should point out that, had I not visited the (in my mind) somewhat similar tourist/fishing city of Homer the weekend before, I would have been a lot more excited about Seward--it's a very charming town with a rich history. Take, for example, this mountain right behind downtown.
This photo was taken earlier in the day when the clouds were still around. The mountain is called Mount Marathon, and every 4th of July they host a footrace up and down the mountain. This tradition started back in the early 1900s as a bar bet between two guys where one bet the other that he couldn't run to the top of Mount Marathon and back in less than an hour. So the best was taken and it ended up taking 1 hour and 3 minutes that first time for the runner to get to the top of the mountain and back. This race has expanded to include a whole field of competitors, who run, stumble, fall and crash their way up and down the mountain every Fourth of July. The current records are around 40 minutes now for the entire trip. It apparently takes the best runners 30 minutes to get up the mountain, but only 10 to get down--that's how fast they're moving. It's not uncommon for people to be all bruised and bloody at the end because of them falling on the way a few times. This is a major event in Seward every year and their Fourth of July celebrations as a whole draw hundreds of people every year. So, this is a town with a lot of life to it.

There are also more things to see in the area, like the Exit Glacier near town. This is a glacier in Kenai Fjords National Park that you can actually walk to the face of on a half-mile path from a parking area. There's also the Alaska Sea Life center, which is a large saltwater aquarium in downtown Seward that houses all the animals (except whales) you could find in the area, for those who don't want to go out on a cruise to spot them there. There are many unique restaurants and bars in the downtown area, and we didn't have a problem deciding on places to eat (for once). Seward is a good place to spend a day.

Anyhow, we had to be back at the docks by 3 PM to get on our cruise.
Our ship was called the "Orca Song," and at maximum it could hold about 75 people. On our cruise, there were maybe 40 some people, and they were a mix of elderly couples, some college students, families with small children...just about anyone. I really, really like being on boats. I know that one day I will own some sort of boat. I've always wanted to go out on a sailboat and learn to sail, but I've never really had the opportunity to do so, nor does anyone I know conveniently have a sailboat and know how to sail. That's something I really want to do, though. There were plenty of sailboats in the harbour, as well as many fishing boats and some yachts. I was delighted to see all these marine radars on the boats being used. But anyhow, the clouds were beginning to break and our cruise headed out on time at 3:30. We were soon literally leaving Seward in our wake and heading out into Resurrection Bay.
Apparently the bay is called Resurrection Bay because the Russians who first entered it did so on the Russian Orthodox Easter. We headed down the bay toward the open ocean rather quickly and soon saw our first wildlife--a pair of sea otters playing in the bay. Since I was on the top deck of the boat, and the otters were so small, it's difficult to make them out in the photo. But, they're there...
The otters were fun to watch for a few minutes, but then the boat continued on down the coast. Next we saw two bald eagles in the trees on the shore. You can see their white heads against the dark trees in this photo.
The boat then entered a small cove and we drove right up to the cliff face. The area was a major rookery for puffins and cormorants. I'm not sure which of those birds are in this photo, but you can see how many of them there are in the cracks in the rock. Though they look kind of like little penguins, they definitely are not. By this point, I was really wishing my camera had a better zoom ability.
We then headed out to the mouth of the bay where it meets the open Pacific Ocean. There was one small island left. At the top of this island is a small station that used to be a watch post during World War II when the military watched for any boats or submarines trying to enter Resurrection Bay.
At the base of this island was a large colony of Steller's Sea Lions. Steller's Sea Lions are an endangered species, so this was apparently a rare and treasurable photo opportunity. Our boat waited and watched off the shore of the island for a while, and you could hear the sea lions grunting and barking at one another. Very fun.
As you might be able to tell from the photos (aside from the fact that my camera cannot zoom at all), as we headed down the bay and out to the open ocean, we entered the marine layer again and the weather had turned cool and cloudy. We crossed the mouth of the bay and I was able to look out at the open Pacific Ocean. This is the first time I had ever been on a boat on the ocean, so it was an experience. Somewhere out there, 2500 miles away, is Hawaii...
At this point, our captain said that they had spotted two humpback whales up ahead, and the boat plowed in that direction. Everyone gathered at the bow of the boat to see what they could see. I went down to the lower deck to get a better view. We waited for several minutes, hoping the whales would come up again. And they did. First we could see the spray from their breathing...
We soon learned (from our captain) that it looked like we had found a mother humpback whale and her calf. We next saw the characteristic humped back of one of the whales.
Then the two whales resurfaced very near to the boat. The younger whale decided to roll on its back. You can see its white fin in this photo. The mother whale's back is also there.
Then the younger whale lifted its tail out of the water in a classic shot. This photo was a chance happening, but I'm glad I was able to get it.
After this dive, the whales disappeared for several minutes. We thought they had gone and the boat turned to head back into the bay. I happened to be on the ocean side of the boat for this, and everyone was congratulating everyone else on seeing the whales. Then, there was a huge explosion a little distance away...and the mother whale leaped completely out of the water...
Which was followed by a huge splash...
Just spectacular. There were cheers on board the boat. I'm so glad I was able to see that, and that the point of us going on this cruise was fulfilled. Having seen what we all came to see, the boat turned back to Seward, this time following the western shore of the bay. We passed near the Bear Glacier which "empties" into the bay.
As we approached Seward, it was nearly 6:00. Apparently that's the time when a lot of the fishing charters come in. I felt like we were leading a full fleet back into the harbour...
Seward harbour is very scenic. We followed a sailboat through the breakwater. Once again, the maze and tangle of masts and ropes on all the ships reminded me of those puzzles I used to put together. It also reminded me of a poem we had once read in English class in high school--the Idea of Order at Key West by Wallace Stevens. It includes a stanza that goes,

"...tell me, if you know,
Why, when the singing ended and we turned
Toward the town, tell why the glassy lights,
The lights in the fishing boats at anchor there,
As the night descended, tilting in the air,
Mastered the night and portioned out the sea,
Fixing emblazoned zones and fiery poles,
Arranging, deepening, enchanting night... "

This scene just reminded me of all that as we returned in the evening. It wasn't quite "night", but still...
Those few clouds were all that remained of the cloudiness that had been around all day. The sunshine was welcome after all those hours out on the ocean. We got back in at 6:30 and found an Italian restaurant for dinner. After that, I mailed another round of postcards and we drove back into Anchorage. The drive back was rather uneventful, as most of the other people slept on the way.

Homer Bound

It's been several days since I last posted, mostly because I've been busy at work putting together details of a presentation and haven't had time to do much exploring. This Saturday changed that routine, as some of our group (including to me) wanted to head down south and drive down the Kenai Peninsula to the city of Homer, Alaska, which is well-known for being a scenic and "Alaskan" locale.
This map below shows the Kenai Peninsula, which is a large area to the south of Anchorage. It's bounded on the south by the open Pacific Ocean, Prince William Sound to the east, the Cook Inlet to the west, and almost completely on the north by a deep bay off of the Cook Inlet to the south of Anchorage called Turnagain Arm.
Only a small bit of land connects the Kenai (pronounced like the words "keen-eye") Peninsula with the rest of Alaska. There is one highway from Anchorage to the peninsula, called the Seward Highway. This runs along the northern shore of Turnagain Arm (which I will describe in another blog entry) and down into the Kenai Mountains which, in turn, run down the eastern half of the peninsula. From there, the highway splits into the Sterling Highway which heads west to the Cook Inlet shore and down through several towns to the city of Homer and the other extension (which is still called the Seward Highway) that goes to the city of Seward on Prince William Sound to the east. Homer is some 220 miles from Anchorage by road and it takes 4.5-5 hours to drive there. This meant going there and back would be an all-day trip.

South of Turnagain Arm, the road enters the Kenai Mountains. These are more or less a subrange of the Chugach Mountains, except for the fact that the Kenais are lower and run north-south to the Chugachs' east-west.
Though they're not a very "spectacular" mountain range, the Kenai Mountains do provide a few sweeping vistas. I'm surprised that the road, which crosses the entire range, has very little in the way of hills or elevation gain--it stays relatively level. The mountains give way to dense forests in the foothills as you head further west. Two rivers in this area--the Kenai River and the Russian River--are very, very popular fishing locations. In fact, fly fishing on the Kenai and Russian Rivers is one of the biggest tourist attractions in Alaska. Several local companies along this road advertise fishing tours and outfitting. There are several lakes on the peninsula, too, including Kenai Lake (everything is named Kenai...) and Skilak Lake. The Sterling Highway actually crosses Kenai Lake at a place called Coopers Landing.
I was surprised how busy traffic was on the road, particularly around the Coopers Landing area. Then again, what better way to spend the 4th of July than going camping and fishing. We soon exited the mountains and went across the large, tree-covered plain that is the western Kenai Peninsula. We passed through the small town of Sterling, for which the highway is named. The highway, though, goes right on through Sterling to the city of Soldotna. Soldotna is the seat of the Kenai Peninsula Borough and has around 7,000 residents, making it a fairly large city by Alaskan standards. I seemed a lot like any other town you'd find anywhere else in the US, complete with fast food and chain stores. Of course, being way out on that plain and the Cook Inlet shore and far from the mountains made the backdrop very different from what we're used to in Alaskan cities. This made it all the more normal-looking...
We detoured north to the neighboring (and almost as large) city of Kenai (yes, everything is still named Kenai) since that's where the "Anchorage" weather radar is located, and I wanted a photo of it for my presentation. Though it had taken us almost two hours from Anchorage to get this far, most of that drive was to head far east and then far back west again to get around Turnagain Arm. As such, the Soldotna-Kenai area isn't really that far from Anchorage as the crow flies. We managed to find the radar and also spent half an hour bypassing downtown Kenai where they had their Fourth of July parade going on. We stopped for lunch at an Arby's and then continued south along the coast.

We started being able to see mountains across the Cook Inlet. These mountains were some of the great volcanoes of Alaska that make up the Aleutian Range. Whenever you hear about volcanoes erupting and causing problems in Alaska, it's usually one of these ones. As many of you know, for the last few months, concern has centered around a volcano called Mount Redoubt that briefly erupted in March and has been steaming ever since. Since this is such a well-known volcano (and because it was actually steaming and semi-active) we wanted to get a photo of it. I had heard that the Clam Gulch State Recreation Area offered good views of the mountain across the inlet, so when we came to that area on the highway I turned in and we walked down to the beach. There, across the bay, was the Mount Redoubt Volcano. To us it was as plain as ever and rather vivid. However, it was a somewhat hazy day and, to the camera, it didn't look like anything much. There is a massive, steaming volcano in the center of this photo:
Can you see it? Don't worry if you can't--I really can't either. So I fiddled around with my limited photo editing tools and adjusted the contrast and the color levels and whatnot and this was the best I could do:
I'm sure it could be made better, but that's the best I'm going to be able to give you. At least you can somewhat make out the volcano and the steam plume rising up. To us standing on the beach, it was as clear as day. I don't know what my camera was picking up, but it did not like the haze. The beach itself was made up of a very fine particulate sand that was actually mostly volcanic ash.
There were many small stones mixed in, but for the most part it was all volcanic ash. Volcanic ash isn't really like "ash" as we normally think about it--it's small pieces of rock that make a very, very fine and soft sand. Imagine getting tons of sand dumped on your house or car and you'll get an idea of what a volcanic ash fall is like. It's a very common thing to find in Alaska, and you can see evidence of recent volcanic activity everywhere. Tons of ash were released into the air during the March eruption of Mount Redoubt and you can see what likes like dirty patches on the ice and snow near the tops of many mountains in the Kenai Range and beyond. These patches are from the ashfall that spread out over the area from that eruption. There are entire seas of sand dunes in parts of Alaska that are all volcanic ash. Quite the sight. To see what an ashfall looks like, I can direct you to http://pafc.arh.noaa.gov/stories/2009/webcam-homer-Apr04-1.html. This is an animation of webcam images taken from near Homer on the day of the eruption and compiled into a Flash animation by someone at the Anchorage forecast office. The full write up (with more webcam images and some other satellite and radar views of the eruption) can be found at http://pafc.arh.noaa.gov/stories/viewer.php?pId=Redoubt&year=2009. In the first video that I linked to, the sun comes up at the beginning and there's snow already on the ground. The day continues normally until around the time 1530Z when the volcano erupts. This sent an ash cloud tens of thousands of feet into the air which then moved over Homer. If you go frame by frame you can see the pitch black and completely opaque ash cloud move over the city, totally blocking out the sun. Then, all the ash just falls out at once in a big "whoosh" almost. It almost looks like a very brief, heavy snowfall--you can see on the roofs how before they were mostly clear, but after they are covered with white poweder. Then the cloud moves on or dissipates and the city is left with what looks like a fresh dusting of snow--but it's that sand-like volcanic ash. Pretty amazing.
The volcano didn't re-erupt while were there, and no one was that concerned about it. A lot of people had driven their trucks out onto the beach and were spending the 4th of July there. It was a very pleasant beach--the volcanic ash sand was very fine and soft and the water wasn't that cold either. I wouldn't have minded spending more time there. But, it was already nearly 3 in the afternoon and we still weren't at Homer. So we moved on.
The road continued south, weaving close to and away from the coast. I haven't done much coastal driving in my many driving adventures, so I rather enjoyed this. We passed through the small town of Ninilchik. Despite having a weather station that I've been using in some of my studies, Ninilchik is home to the Kenai Peninsula Regional Fairgrounds and Rodeo, as well as an old Russian Orthadox Church that has been around since the time when Alaska was Russian territory. We didn't see the church, but many people take a small trip to stop and see it. An hour south of Clam Gulch we got to the top of the bluffs overlooking Kachemak Bay and the city of Homer. This was the view.
Once again, the haziness contributes to the washed-out look of the background. The Kenai Mountains, which had been running along the eastern, opposite coast of the peninsula from us, swing across the southern end of the Kenai Peninsula just south of Homer. The body of water between the bluffs we were on top of and the Kenai Mountains out there is called Kachemak Bay. To the right of this photo is the end of the Cook Inlet and the open waters of the Pacific Ocean. On a clear day, looking in that direction usually gives good views of the Iliamna and Mount Augustine volcanoes. We could actually see them through the haze and I took picures, but try as I might I can't cut through the haze on the photos. So we're left with the city of Homer and its "spit" which is a large sandbar 5 miles long sticking out into Kachemak Bay. You can just see it out in the water in the center of this photo. That's where we were headed.
The city of Homer has a reputation as one of the quaintest, most "Alaskan" cities you will find. It is known as a haven for "hippies" and supposedly supports many arts colony sorts of establishments. It also bills itself as the "Halibut Fishing Capital of the World." The father of one of my roommates, who had been to Alaska before, said that Homer was "better than Denali (Mount McKinley)" as an attraction. A lot of people speak highly of the town. I'll give it a lot for its scenic beauty and overall pleasantness. It didn't seem very eccentric to me. But we headed into town. Downtown Homer is actually on the mainland and it's much like the downtown of any resort town with its shops and local groceries and restaurants. If we had had more time, I would have liked to explore that area more. However, we drove straight through to the start of the Spit.
Starting down the Spit, we drove two miles on what amounts to a causeway with water on both sides. The tide was low when we were there so it looked very muddy and the smell of dead fish was quite prominent. After those two miles, we got into the buildings, stores and docks at the end of the spit. These demand some detail, so there will be several pictures. First we drove all the way to the end of the Spit, which is, by most accounts the "end" of the paved highway system in North America. You can go no further south in Alaska and no further west on (paved) roads. There is a resort at the end of the road fittingly called "Lands End".
We parked near there and started walking back down the Spit. First thing we came across was the massive Homer harbour with all of its boats. I seem to remember putting together many jigsaw puzzles that looked like this...
While many of these boats are the property of people who have vacation homes in Homer, a lot are commercial fishing boats and many belong to fishing charter companies, of which there are many located right on the Spit. You can call ahead or come out early in the day and get on an all-day halibut fishing trip with one of the groups there. They'll provide all the equipment and explain to you what to do. Most will also offer to clean any fish you catch as well, so at the end of the day you can walk away with fresh packages of halibut fillets from what you caught that day. In fact, by the time we got there late in the afternoon, many of the charters were beginning to come in and the fish cleaning process had begun. Here you can see the workers outside one of these charter places preparing to clean the day's catch of halibut.
Halibut are large fish--most people catch ones around 30-50 pounds, but they can get up to over 200 pounds and be up to 7 feet long. Homer has an ongoing competition every year to see who can catch the largest halibut that year. The winner gets something like $30,000 dollars. Everyone is eligible, so any time any of the charters come back with an extremely large catch, they immediately bring it in to weigh it before it starts drying out. Because Alaskan law defines the "catcher" of a fish to be the person who is operating the pole that first hooks the fish and not the person who actually brings it in, there can be interesting circumstances--like how recently a 200+ pound halibut was "caught" by a 6 year old girl. All she had to do was hook it and it was hers--before three or four other adults took over trying to haul the thing in. Lots of fishing stories are made here, I'm sure...

Also, in case you were wondering, all of these buildings on such a narrow strip of sand are a risk from tsunamis or large waves, which can occur from the earthquakes up here. Thus, in case people were unsure where to go with only one road on the spit, that road is indeed a "Tsunami Evacuation Route." I enjoy the stylized monstrous wave on the sign...
As I said, the one street is lined with lots of charter fishing "huts," but also several restaurants and gift stores. Here we are looking down the spit towards the mainland. It's rather narrow and most of these buildings are supported by stilts on the water side.I draw your attention to the lighthouse building further down the spit. This place is called the Salty Dawg Saloon and is the "most famous" or "most photographed" building in Homer. So they say.
The saloon is a bar, of course, but it is made up of a mishmash of old buildings from Homer's history. The lighthouse, with its new shingles on the outside, used to be a water tower for the city way back when. The smaller building to the front apparently was once the post office, and later a school, mining outfitter, fishing cabin, and a bunch of other things before it was moved and attached to the saloon. There are two other small buildings attached on the back side as well with their own history. The ceilings are very low inside and it was completely full when we got there. The inside is covered with a lot of one-dollar bills that are all signed by various people and pinned to the walls. As the story goes, once several years ago a fisherman who was having a drink at the bar took out a dollar bill, signed it, and pinned it to the wall saying that a friend of his was coming in later and he wanted to buy this friend a drink but he had to go, so this was for his friend's drink. Since then it has been tradition for all visitors to go to the saloon, sign a dollar bill and pin it to the wall. Unfortunately, there were those in our group who didn't want to go in and get a drink and do all of this, so we moved along.
There are lots of little shops like that one that are really no more than small shacks. That one happened to have a group of musicians out front playing sea shanties. This was, I think, the closest we came to radical, hippy sort of people we are told are in the city. We're convinced that, based on all of the stories we've heard about there being all of these quaint locals, that they were just all in hiding for the fourth of July or something. Anyhow, there are scattered collections of these buildings all up and down the end of the Spit. Like I said, most are on stilts on the ocean side.
In between the collections of buildings are rows and rows and rows of RVs and tents on the side of the road. Apparently it's a really big thing for people to "camp out" on the Homer Spit. I suppose there is a certain novelty to that.
We got ice cream at this one shop and I bought post cards in another. Only one person in our group was really hungry, and she half-heartedly suggested stopping at this restaurant. I was very, very pleased that no one else was in the mood to stop and eat there.
However, we had two people who had come off of working midnight shifts at the forecast office the night before and people also wanted to get back that night to see the Anchorage fireworks. So, we didn't stick around much longer. We headed back off the spit into downtown Homer, which looks like this as you come in from the spit. Like I said, a very scenic, pleasant little town on the bluffs. I would have liked to explore more and see what that whole area of town outside the Spit was like, but we needed to be heading back.
The drive back went a lot faster than the drive going out, mostly because we only stopped once for food and gas and everyone seemed more talkative on the way back. I rather enjoyed the trip, even if it was rather whirlwind. I also enjoyed being out of sight of the mountains for a while. I hadn't realized how accustomed I had become to them and how consciously different the landscape seems without them. I have lived pretty much all of my life out of sight of mountains and it just feels slightly more right to me. So, heading back we went though all of the towns we went through going out, only in reverse (there's only one road, after all). We entered the Kenai Mountains again and returned to Anchorage by 11 PM. The fireworks were supposed to be at midnight, but everyone fell asleep anyhow, so all I did was do some reading in my room and listen to the booms that were pleasantly far away.