The weather wasn't so kind to us in Seward - a combination of windy and rainy and of course, cold. We decided not to go on another cruise (one of the main reasons people come to Seward), and instead filled up on our hotel's free brekkie and headed off to Exit Glacier.
If you notice that one of my arms looks like a Popeye arm, it's because I woke up the next morning with a puffy left arm. At first I thought a spider had bitten me, fitting since we were in an old creepy creaky hotel. My best guess was that I was stung by a bee/wasp sometime during our canoe adventure the previous day, although the odd thing was it went unnoticed until the following morning. I looked like one of those crabs that has one arm larger than the other. Annoying. The weather wasn't so kind to us in Seward - a combination of windy and rainy and of course, cold. We decided not to go on another cruise (one of the main reasons people come to Seward), and instead filled up on our hotel's free brekkie and headed off to Exit Glacier. The thing that's cool about Exit Glacier is that you can get really close to the glacier without much effort or cost. We blew through the trail in about 20 minutes or so (in rainboots too!) - for the most part, a pretty easy hike, with the last part of the climb being the only real difficulty. What you can't really tell from these photos was the distance between the rocky part and the actual glacier -- it seemed as if at times you could touch the glacier, but if you lost your step or reached just a bit too far, you most likely would fall down the deep, dark, icy chasm. A lot of the glacier was roped off for this reason (guessing), or had warning signs of "enter at your own risk." Sly risked, I took photos. We didn't spend too long at the glacier since we decided to try and make it to Denali that night. On our way down, we ran into an elderly Italian lady who had become separated from her tour group. We originally saw her on our way up, so we were confused as to why she was still there smoking a cigarette. In broken English, she asked us if we had seen a large group of people at the top, and we said that we had not. When we got to the base of the trail, a group of Italian dudes asked us if we had seen an "old lady somewhere on the trail." We said we had and they bolted off to rescue her. Apparently this tour was just about to leave when they realized they were missing someone. Can you imagine? The 1961 sign shows where the glacier was back then. In 50 years, the glacier receded about a mile. Multiple signs with dates were on the side of the road when driving to the glacier. After the hike to Exit Glacier, we began the long drive to Denali, stopping along the way to load up on groceries for camping and to buy plenty of jerky from a roadside stand. We managed to make it to Denali with some daylight left - enough time to explore the camp store, set up our tent at Riley Creek, and make (and eat) lots of turkey and cheese sandwiches.
1 Comment
Good advice: We met a chatterbox on our flight from Juneau to Anchorage who was chock-full of insider info on places to eat and see while in Kenai. Following her advice, we dined at Mykel's, feasting on local oysters, halibut sammys and of course a huge slice of pie to set us over the edge. Despite the sketchy 1980s dark interior, it was a great meal. Bad advice: At our hotel, we read a visitor's guide that was written locally were intrigued by its mention of a nearby blueberry field, as well as a local bridge where tons of wildlife could be seen. Terrible recommendations on both accounts. For one, the supposed field of blueberries was in no mans land. The directions led us down a dirt road where several sketchy cars were parked as if conducting drug deals or other illegal acts. We slowly rolled down the road waiting to see blueberries galore, but instead ended up in a field of tall grass and suspicious white sedans. Confusing. Our drive to the wildlife viewing bridge was similarly perplexing and also a bust. I could see how wildlife would congregate to that particular marshy area, but there were really no places to park and ultimately nothing to see except indistinct birds and huge mountains. Terrible advice. Next time, we'll either talk to the locals or stick to our guide book (which was actually doing an excellent job thus far). Eventually we gave up on packing our day with any more activities, and instead made way to Seward. While driving on the Sterling Highway, I caught a glimpse of shimmering brown fur just out of the corner of my eye. I told Sly to stop the car. We parked on the side of the road by the river and peered through to trees. I'm not a bear expert, so I can't validate this claim, but I swear I saw the biggest, most massive bear I have ever seen wading in the river, half-wet and glistening from catching salmon with her little cub. We tried to get closer to get a better view, but by then, a bunch of similarly curious roadtrippers had stopped to stare, scaring off the grizzly. The light was so amazing here, we went crazy with photos. Don't worry, this is the last of two jumping shots from this trip. Once in Seward, we found a historic old haunted hotel and checked in for the night into a room that had a claw foot tub in a creepy room nestled below the stairs (like Harry Potter). After settling into our room, we took the advice of the guy at the front desk and loaded up on carbs at the nearby pizza joint.
Sometimes our travel schedules are so jam-packed with things to do and eat, that we end up not fully enjoying the travel experience. On this trip, we planned a couple days of down time into our loose itinerary so that we could have an unplanned day like this one. We slept in, took long showers, watched crappy tv, ate a huge breakfast (and stuffed leftovers into our backpacks), and canoed down a lazy river. We contemplated several options that afternoon - fishing (the area was extremely popular for salmon fishing), canoeing down one of the many canoe trails, hiking - there were so many options for outdoor activities that it was almost overwhelming. We decided to go canoeing, since it was something he had not done in a long time. After talking to a kind old lady at the canoe rental/campground, we decided to rent a canoe for just a half day, and canoe down the easiest/calmest river - the Moose River. The kind old lady helped us lift and secure the canoe to the top of our car (that's Alaskan women for you) and pointed us in the direction of the boat ramp. We dragged the boat into the water and then I jumped in the front. Canoes are pretty stable once in the river, but oh man, every single time we launch a canoe, I swear I almost end up in the water. After some serious boat rocking and some excited cries, we were on our way. I forgot to mention - after hours of scouring and calling all the stores in Anchorage the previous day, we finally found Xtra-Tufs, aka the official shoes of Alaska, at a place called Alaska Industrial Hardware. That store was no joke. Anyway they were the perfect shoes for our little canoe trip. Once again, we found ourselves all alone in pristine wilderness, which I found amazing and unnerving at the same time. On the water, we could hear the tiniest of sounds for miles and miles. Everything seemed so amplified - the beautiful cloudy reflections, the sound of the paddle slicing through the water, the water cradling our canoe, birds chirping... It was crazy to think that not far off the beaten path, one could enter an entirely different world of solitude. Our first animal sighting was a baby eagle. We noticed it right away because eagles are massive creatures, and sitting alone on the marshy banks, this guy looked abnormally large. As we continued canoeing, two birds swooped and flew over us (we think they were eagles, but for all we know they could have been vultures) as if beckoning us to follow them. We stopped paddling, had some lunch, and watched them play. And then we figured out how Moose River got its name. MOOSE! The moose seemed like such a natural part of the landscape, that we barely even noticed it until we were right beside it. The moose, in return, gave us little thought. Like most animals we have encountered in the wild, we were insignificant beings. They could care less that we were there. As we canoed up river deeper into the wildlife refuge, the river narrowed and snaked and curved around tall grass more frequently. After a while, it started to feel a bit too Heart of Darkness for me. It was almost too quiet. Several hours in, we decided to turn around and head downstream. With the current gently pushing us forward, we were able to relax and enjoy the ride back. Yet another beautiful day in Alaska that made you happy to be alive.
There was a reason why we started our days so early -- we wanted to beat the weather. And, in the event a flight was delayed because of weather, we wanted to make sure that we could potentially catch a later flight. We awoke while still dark outside and drove to the dinky airport. On the positive, the flight wasn't delayed. On the negative, our plane was even smaller and more fragile looking than the plane we took from Juneau to Gustavus. And it was a Cessna. I swear any time you hear about a plane crashing in the mountains in some remote area of the world, a Cessna is involved. I did not want to ride in a Cessna. Luckily, the Cessna flying coffin was not the actual plane we were scheduled to fly, we flew in one even smaller than that -- like toy plane size. Somehow, we made it back to Juneau. That's pretty much where our luck ended. We spent the next eight hours or so stranded in the Juneau airport. After boarding the plane and sitting on the tarmac for about an hour, we were instructed to exit the plane. Apparently, the de-icing thingamajig broke and they were expecting icy conditions (shocker) on the way to Anchorage, so they grounded the plane. Now this is where it gets all Alaskan on us: there were only a couple flights that left in any given day in and out of Juneau. Despite being the capital, the airport was rather rinky dink. The options at that point were to somehow get on another plane (very unlikely since not many planes scheduled in our direction) or -- get this -- fly in the necessary part from Anchorage, then fix the plane, then reboard the plane, then all go back to Anchorage. It was absolutely bewildering to me that in a snowy cold climate like Alaska, where I'm sure they used de-icers 90% of the time -- why there were no de-icer parts at the Juneau airport. Also, Alaska Airlines pretty much has the monopoly on all flights anywhere within Alaska, so it's not like they had to deal with planes they were unfamiliar with. So much for getting up early. can you tell how pleased I am about being trapped in the Juneau airport? Everyone was absolutely stir crazy at that point. If we had been trapped at any other airport in the lower 48, there would have at least been food to eat and magazines to buy, but since we were past security and not sure of the status of our plane, we were trapped with a zillion other people in a 3rd world country like atmosphere with a single snack machine and coke machine amongst us. In a matter of minutes, both machines were emptied. I recalled a poem that I saw printed and pasted on the wall of the Gustavus "airport." It was entitled, "Weather Permitting." I googled the poem - it pretty much sums it up: Way up in Alaska wherever you are, If you're headed out close or you're headed out far, And you're going by plane you can add (and it's fitting) I'll be there good buddies... weather permitting. It could really careless what you're planning on doing, An operation, oration, a wedding or wooing, When you go to the airport you may need your knitting, For you'll only be flying with... weather permitting. I have fretted and stewed I have stamped on the floor, I have shouted and screamed and started to roar, But there's no use in fuming or fussing or snitting, You'll always face this... it's weather permitting. So don't get disheartened in the far golden North, If you suffer delay as you sally forth. Just learn to relax without fretting or quitting, You can depend on one thing...it's just weather permitting. When the rich folks all come with their clothing so fine, With their high fashion wardrobes and special french wine. They'll stop for a while then continue their flitting, Go on with their jet setting...weather permitting. And whether you're working or playing around, Flying through mountains or over the sound, In what kind of season your travels are are hitting, I will guarantee this...weather permitting. And it gets in you're blood then whenever you go, So I said to my sweetie, how I love you so, She said I adore you, come close where I'm sitting, And I'll do what you want me to...weather permitting. And when the grim reaper comes I can see it all clear, I'm alone in my shroud happy heaven is near, I'm coming Saint Peter! This old world I'm quitting, I'll be along soon...Weather Permitting. ~Anonymous Um, yeah. After five hours or so of "weather permitting" we were thrown a bone: a flight had just arrived from who knows where and we were switch places with the current passengers, steal their plane to head back to Anchorage, and leave those poor souls stranded in the Juneau airport with no snacks in the snack machine to wait for the de-icer to arrive. I really didn't understand the logic, I mean, they could have had at least one flight arrive on time that day, but whatever. At least the days were still long in Alaska, so even though we arrived in Anchorage hours after we had planned, we still had about five hours of daylight to take a road trip to/around the Kenai Peninsula. Incidentally, we planned a "weather permitting" day like this into our itinerary, so we really didn't have a hard-set schedule that day. We rented a car from the airport, loaded our stuff, and began our road trip to destination unknown. It was cold, rainy, and cloudy, but at least we weren't sitting in an airport. The Seward Highway was the perfect road trip highway - lots to see, lots of places to stop, get out, have picnics, and take little hikes (weather permitting...cough). We didn't really stop at too many places on account of the weather being crappy, and also because we just wanted to get to wherever point B would be that night, but we did stop at Cook Inlet to see if we could spot some beluga whales. No dice, but I found the sign about "harassing, chasing, hunting or killing" the whales to be really disturbing. Lots of drive-by photography, as if you couldn't tell We stopped at another random place along the highway - I think we were getting antsy at that point and wanted to get out and do something. We were also lured by a sign with a camera icon pointing to a vista point. I'm not sure where we were, I just know we were somewhere in the whereabouts of Chugach National Forest. While Sly was off trying to find a bathroom, I decided to venture off the trail a bit to see if I could get closer to the river. I chose what looked like a washed out trail and followed it down. It wasn't a trail, it was a flood path. Before I knew it, I was slipping down a mud slide to what I was sure would be a steep plunge into frigid waters. I managed to grab and cling to some slippery vines on the way down, landing in a bed of wet moss. I wonder what old "BJ Thomas" would have done if he found me tangled in roots on his claim. Anyway, I obviously survived, and as I laid face-down on the bed of moss moss, I photographed more mushrooms. Back on the Sterling Highway, we decided to give up on camping and gun it to Kenai. The photos above were taken around 9:45pm - the sun was just setting, which would be a little more obvious if it weren't so cloudy.
We arrived in Kenai wary and hungry. We were both feeling too lazy to set up camp or cook anything, so instead we splurged on Taco Bell and a room with cable tv. That night, we lived as kings. We were pretty skeptical about the glowing review our guidebook gave of the Gustavus Inn - how amazing the food was, how hospitable the owners were, what a special experience visiting/staying would be, that it was a meal he'd always remember. For the most part Gustavus, while extremely charming, was also very expensive. Lodging options were primarily limited to massive full-service all-inclusive lodge-style resorts that seemed so out-of-place for a town as quaint as Gustavus. Because most meals were included in lodging packages, there were hardly any stand-alone restaurants beyond a coffee shop and a pizza parlor. The restaurant at Gustavus Inn stood out not only because of the glowing reviews, but because it recently won a James Beard award. We were curious more than anything, but had pretty low expectations. For one, how many times has a guidebook been on the money? Second, how great could food in this tiny town of 200-400 people be? The guidebook was right. It was one of the most amazing meals and food experiences of our lives. I can't quite put my finger on what it was that made the Gustavus Inn so special - the fact that the place has been there since forever, that they grew most of their own food in their gardens, the idyllic peaceful setting, the simple, yet mindful preparation of the food. Maybe it was that we sat around a big table and shared our meal (everything was served family style) with a bunch of old fisherman that had a lifetime of stories they shared with us that night. Or maybe it was the soy-butter smoked king salmon, homemade rolls, garden greens, and berry cheesecake for dessert. It was a meal I will remember forever. Yes, it was that good. Sadly, on the way back home to our lodge, our driver told us that the owner of the inn - who we met and talked with that night -- was thinking of selling the inn. We hoped it was just a rumor, or that if it were the truth, that things would never change at the inn. Gustavus seemed to be on the cusp of change though - increased flights and the addition of a ferry stop has made this tiny village more accessible to tourists, and who knows what that will bring. When we spoke to locals and seasonal workers alike, they already expressed a sort of wistfulness for the old Gustavus. We had only been in Gustavus for a few days, but we understood what they meant. Gustavus was they type of place you bring your children and children's children so that you can eat at the same restaurant and stay at the same hotel that has been there for who knows how long. There's a comfort in the unaltered continuation of life, for things staying the way they always have been, to know that you can return to a place and have it be as it always was. Maybe that search for a constant is why people are attracted to nature, but who knows. I just hope that Gustavus never changes. It truly was a special place. We spent our last night in Gustavus in our cabin reminiscing over the amazing meal we shared and all the amazing things we saw and experienced that day. After reading a bit, we called it an early night - we had yet another early flight at the crack of dawn the next morning.
|
SEARCH THIS SITEalas
Archives
November 2015
Bookmarks
All
Projects |