Roger's Loop Trails

Roger's Loop Trailhead

The Roger's Loop Trailhead is my favorite take-off point for snowshoing, skiing, and  hikes.  It is a quick 5 minute drive up Baycrest Hill heading north out of Homer, so if I'm running errands and need to "waste" an hour, I'll often take the time to run up there for a quick hike, ski or snowshoe.

Part of the Roger's Loop snowshoe trail

The ski trails connect with the Sunset Loop trail system, as well as with the Marathon Trail that meanders all the way up to Lookout Trails, so conceivably there are many, many kilometers of ski trails.  More often, though, when I'm in town and want a quick outing, I don't have my full outfit of ski clothes and don't want to get all sweaty, so I opt for the mellower snowshoe or hike.  A few days ago, the snowshoe trail was hard enough to hike.  While I know the diehards frown on hiking the snowshoe trail, if I start breaking through, I turn back and give it up, because I know how annoying big holes in the trail are.  However, on Monday, the temperatures were in the teens or 20's so I knew I wouldn't be breaking through.

Late evening (8 pm) sunshine on trail.

The snow levels right now--in mid-April after a winter of below-average snow--was from 0-4 feet.  Under thick boughs where not much snow made it to the ground, there was bare ground, while most other places there was 2-3 feet.  A few years ago a new trail was forged, making a loop trail out of what was once an out-and-back.  It takes me about an hour to snowshoe that loop, which is just about a perfect amount of time.  It is nearly all in the woods, so it is protected from the winds, which was my main concern the other day as the winds have been piercing lately and I wouldn't have ventured out for a beach walk that particular day.

By mid-April the bears usually are coming out of hibernation, so I kept an eye out for tracks but saw nary a sign.  Usually the bears hang out on the other end of the Roger's Loop trail system by the dump, but I avoid that section:  blowing trash, swooping eagles, and raucous crows don't make for as relaxing an experience.

I know it is spring...but it sure doesn't feel like spring here.  Winter came in mid-October, but overall for the winter, it was warm, staying in the 20's and 30's.  But come mid-April when we're ready for the snow to melt, 20's and 30's feels cold.  Bitter winds and snow for the past several days have cemented winter in our minds.  Good thing I like winter sports, but I'm still rooting for sunshine to melt the snow on Homer High's new Olympic-quality track that we're supposed to have a track meet on in 9 days!

On Coming Out of Hibernation

Ha!  I'll bet you thought this was about bears!  Nope.  This is about people coming out of hibernation.  It is an interesting thing about the darkness in Alaska and its effect.  For me, right around daylight savings in the fall, I get a sense of darkness taking over and I mentally resist it, yet knowing it is inevitable.  I pull out the SAD light and keep it out on the dining room table for the kids to read by at breakfast, and I will eat lunch in front of it.  I make sure I get outside and exercise at least a few days a week. I take my vitamin D supplements.  And yet, right around the beginning of March, I feel a lightening of spirit.  I sense the cobwebs being cleared out of my brain.  I start anticipating summer and longer days with eagerness.  As the days lengthen, I wake up earlier in the mornings and feel more energized--despite all my efforts to keep the energy up all winter.

Looking around, one can see the effects of darkness on others, but you don't always know that it might be the darkness--you might guess they have a lot of stress in their lives to account for their crabbiness, or they are having a bad week, or they have PMS--but chances are, all of those things have an edge added to them by the shorter days and lack of vitamin D.  I recall one friend who has lived in Homer awhile say to me, "The end of February, everybody is crabby and depressed and ready for winter to end, and some issue will blow up (locally) because of it."  Before she said that, I'd never contemplated the community effect of darkness.  It is better when we can acknowledge it and be aware of it...but most people want to deny the effect of short hours of daylight on them.  I can understand that, because all winter I'll think I'm handling it just fine, doing all the right things, but when March comes along, I realize I was on some level asleep all that time.

So we ease into April and suddenly I am blogging more.  Coincidence?  Could be.  Could also be I am coming out of hibernation!

The Jack-up Rig is Gone!

The jack-up rig in Kachemak Bay.

 Last August we woke up one morning to the sight of "something" out in Kachemak Bay.  As the buzz went around town, we heard it was a jack-up oil rig that had made a long journey to Homer and needed some repairs and work done on it before it would be put to use in Cook Inlet off of Anchor Point.  It was exciting to see this at first--a radical contrast to the beauty of nature we are surrounded by in Homer.  The rig was supposed to be gone within a few weeks.  It was hauled into the harbor for repairs, back out into the bay, then back into the harbor, where it finally rested until last Friday. 

The ensuing months saw a number of newspaper articles predicting when the rig was supposed to be gone...and then they stopped predicting because it never happened.  It became the local joke about the rig that wouldn't leave.  When heavy winds were buffeting the rig, it had to put its legs down in order not to be banged against the dock and damage the dock.  Locals became upset, meetings were held, excuses were made as to why the rig was still there.....

Last Friday the jack-up rig finally left the harbor without fanfare.  I was on the phone with someone Friday morning who said, "I'm watching 3 tugboats pull the jack-up rig out of Kachemak Bay right now."  When I mentioned it to people, they would rush to the window to see if it was really true--they had to see it with their own eyes what the Homer Spit looked like without the rig. 

The city of Homer and harbor certainly benefited from the huge influx of money the daily rental fee for the rig brought into city coffers.  The eyesore wasn't all a waste.  And now residents of Anchor Point will get to have it moored offshore, probably for a lot longer than 7 months!  If anyone is interested in more details of its visit (I just blog about my experience rather than the facts), there are plenty of newspaper articles about it.  Try Googling "Endeavor Homer Alaska" for all the details!

The jack-up rick in the harbor last summer

Sea to Ski II

Sunshine!  This actually looks fun!

Last year Aurora had so much fun doing the Sea to Ski that the rest of the family decided we had to join in the fun.  It was on Easter Sunday, but we still managed to get to church, go register, change and grab a bit to eat and still stood around enjoying the sunshine and chatting with our fellow racers for an hour.

This year was a classic "Homer weather" race day.  It was warm (probably mid-40's) and calm while waiting for the race to start, but then a chilly breeze kicked up, coming off the water and by time the run started my hands were blocks of ice.  But then, I wasn't running the race, so no problem!

Aurora and a friend were doing the "ironwoman"--the entire 5k run, 7k bike and 5k ski--but just "for fun," not racing hard.  Denver, Douglas and I were racing as a team:  Denver was running, Douglas was biking and I was skiing.  So when the kids took off running, we got in the car and drove to West Homer Elementary to the beginning of the bike stage.  The run is flat or slightly uphill the whole way along the Sterling Highway, so it's pretty comfortable.  The kids got in at just about the same time.  Aurora pulled on a helmet and hopped on her bike while Denver tagged Douglas and away he went.

Bikes all lined up for pickup at West Homer School.

Denver, tired out from his run, and I hopped in the car and drove up Baycrest Hill to Roger's Loop to the start of the ski loop.  I got my boots on and got Aurora's ski gear ready (boots, poles & skis) for her to hop into.  Waiting for Douglas was fun at first.  It was sunny, everyone was chatting and people came through regularly....but then it got cloudy and started snowing.  I was dressed for skiing, not for standing around, so it seemed like an eternity before he came in.  As you can see from the pictures, it really WAS snowing!

This looks wet, cold and not-so-fun!  I think the sunglasses were for the sun, not for snow protection!

The biking section goes from West Homer Elementary, out onto the Sterling Highway, up West Hill, up the gravel Highland Drive (I kid you not about the up, up, up!  It's 900 feet UP!), and finally peaks and there were a few downhills as Highland turned into Sprucewood and then onto Roger's loop.  Of course, as you can see, it wasn't a dirt road as much as it was an icy, slushy, snow-covered road, varying depending on the elevation.  I was listening to stories of people talking about their falls (and how many), their almost-falls, and their avoided-falls.  People with toe clips were a bit nervous.  There's one pretty good-sized downhill with a curve at the bottom that sanity says one should take slow 'n easy.  Very exciting!

And this just looks plain crazy! 

Ready to ski--the easy leg of the race!

Finally Douglas came in and tagged me off and away I flew!  The ski section is pretty flat with just a couple little uphills, so it was fun though the final section was a bit slushy.  It was still snowing, but hey, it wouldn't be a Sea to Ski if the weather weren't a tad crazy.  Aurora came in after Douglas and she and her friend skied off and Douglas loaded up the bikes and drove to the DOT parking lot just down the road a 1/2 mile or so to the finish.

Standing around at the finish, the sun was almost peeking back out and it was nice out.  Aurora stood around in her shorts (And actually put on a sweatshirt.  I was impressed.).  The snack table was awesome, with a nice mix of healthy and unhealthy snacks, juices and whatnot. The awards are worth waiting for because nearly every racer and volunteer ends up winning something!  We didn't win the race, but we did pretty well on the prizes, taking home a pound of Captain's Coffee, a gift card to Captain's Coffee, socks, a neckwarmer, fresh oysters, and some ski wax.  The door prizes took almost 40 minutes, and as we were standing there, we could see the snow falling over Diamond Ridge, moving our way.  Pretty soon it was snowing again and people were shivering, eager to get in their cars and head home to Easter dinners.

If we can, this will be on our list of races to do next year.  Denver is determined to do the whole thing himself, and Douglas wants to run rather than bike (guess he didn't like the icy roads and snow!).  I'm actually contemplating doing the whole thing.  If Denver can do it, I can!

(Thanks, Don Pitcher, for the pictures of us racing.

Snowmachining the Lower Kenai Peninsula

I cringed when I noticed my last blog post was in December, but we live exceedingly boring lives most of the school year, stuck in Homer (or the road between Homer and Anchorage!) by our jobs, kids' sports and activities.  And after nearly six years of living here, everything here seems commonplace and the norm.  However exotic one's locale, it becomes home after awhile, with all the foibles that come with home:  not noticing it quite as much anymore, and wanting to get away.

Last weekend we had a Saturday free and in Homer with no plans--as a family, the first since Christmas break.  Of course, we couldn't fritter away a perfectly good day by doing nothing so we came up with a plan that ended up working out well:  go snowmachining with my aunt and uncle.  My uncle had a brand new snowmachine he was itching to try out, and he'd discovered some new places to go the weekend before as he'd followed the progress of his daughter Kelli and her husband Todd as they did the 100 kilometer bike/ski/hike Homer Epic based out of Homer.  Serendipity!

The preparation was much longer for my uncle than it was for us.  We just drove to Ninilchik and donned our gear.  My uncle spent hours getting all the machines gassed up, treads aligned, oiled and whatever else needed to be done.

The day was warm--mid 30's, but overcast, which was a little disappointing as the sunshine helps see the definition of the snow better, and on cloudy days the snow can be so flat it is difficult to see.

We took the trail to Ninilchik Dome, which is a rough, bumpy, meandering trail with a few bare spots, as well as a crew who had explosives lined up along the trail--something to do with exploring for gas.  That was a bit weird, and I made very sure not to run too close to the wires connecting all the charges. 

Past the Ninilchik Dome (which is just a hill that looks like a dome and is a visual landmark for the area), we turned onto a wider, smoother trail.  A few inches of fresh snow had fallen so we were breaking fresh snow, which was fun. 

One thing that has always puzzled me is how people know where to go out there on the trails.  There were a couple clues.  In one place we came across a sign that said, "meeting tree."  I assume it is just that:  a marker that people know and can agree to meet at. 

My uncle points out to Aurora the meeting tree and where we were heading.

Shortly after the meeting tree, we came to another sign:

We came across several of these in our day of snowmachining, though they were all on the western (Homer) side of the Kenai Peninsula.  I don't recall seeing signs for the Ninilchik Dome trail, though I could have missed them.

Our goal was The Palace.  That is, the Snomads Palace, a building where snowmachiners can stop and rest, eat, have a pit stop or even stay overnight.  In the 45 or so years my uncle has lived on the Peninsula, he'd never known about it, and the discovery had really excited him--so much so he'd driven to Homer for a Snomads meeting a few days before.  He thought it was the neatest thing.

The Snomads Palace:  certainly a palace for way out there!

The day had been overcast but as we headed to the Palace, the snow became flat and we could no long see the definition of the snow.  It took more concentration to watch the trail, but it was an area where we stayed on the trail as opposed to ripping up new snow all over the place, so it was just a matter of following along.  I was so ready for the lunch break when we got to the Palace.  It had taken us about 2 hours to get there--26 miles I think my odometer said.  We'd gone from 10-40 mph, and my uncle stopped regularly to check on us all and make sure we were doing okay.

The interior of the Palace

Inside the Palace was 4 tables with chairs, a booth, a propane stove and wood stove, sink (no running water, just brown water out) and upstairs in the loft a couch and sleeping pads.  Our lunch was a simple hot dog wraps, cider, cocoa and oranges.  The propane stove was a nice feature, and we started a fire in the stove to take an edge off the chill.  As I was gazing out the wall of windows, I thought to myself that I was looking at the back of Bald Mountain that I go crust skiing on in the spring.  My uncle argued with me, but I was pretty sure I was right (I was as I discovered later).  Two outhouses rounded out the facilities.

After lunch, we contemplated our plan of action.  I had hoped to make the loop that goes from McNeil Canyon School, out to Caribou Lake and back around via the Eagle Flats.  It would have been a long day--longer than we were up for--so we nixed that plan.  Instead we took the trail to McNeil School, which was neat for me because I ski in that area, and for crust skiing it is really nice to have a lay of the land. 

At McNeil we turned around and headed back to Ninilchik.  By then the sun was out, the Kenai Mountains were peeking through (though now they were behind us), it was warmer and visibility was good.  We made good time back, for a total jaunt of 5 1/2 hours, which maxed us out.  The smell of fuel, the whine and roar of the machines, and the constant attention to driving had dulled the edge of excitement and joy of the morning when we'd gloried in the freedom and speed of the machines.  We joke that we only need to go snowmachining once a year to get our 'fix,' and I think it's true.  It's something different to do, but not something we love passionately.

Sunshine and the trail with Ninilchik Dome in the distance.

On another note, nearly six years in Alaska has taught me that there are different brands of Alaskans, and I am never going to be an Alaskan like my aunt and uncle.  I barley like snowmachining and 4-wheeling, I don't like to hunt or fish, and I'm not particularly fond of horses.  When I snowmachine and run over a tree, I cringe, and when I go 4-wheeling and create big ruts in the earth, I am embarrassed to be contributing to that eyesore.  Much fishing requires boats, much hunting requires 4-wheelers or horses, or even a plane to get there.  None of those things fills me with joy or enthusiasm.  We came, we tried, and we've discovered that's just not "us".  Some people might embrace that lifestyle.  I've finally come to the realization that we won't.

Does that mean Alaska is not the right place for us?  I don't think so.  Many people in Alaska now don't do those stereotypical "Alaskan" things.  But we do other things that my Alaskan relatives do not:  we've explored hiking trails that they've driven by all their lives and didn't even realize were there.  We pick and berries that they didn't know the names of, much less how to eat them.  We mountain bike and backpack.  We appreciate the beautiful scenery, love the mountains and water, and we try to co-exist equably with our environment--not going overboard in subsistence living, but still growing much of our own food and harvesting wild edibles.  I'm coming to an acceptance of who we are as Alaskans, and feeling less obligated to do or be certain things just because it is a 'traditional' Alaskan activity.  So we are forging our own lives and identities here, which is a neat thing to do in The Last Frontier!

High School Sports Travel

Awhile back I blogged about traveling to Barrow and other bush communities for high school sports, but this past week I was initiated to the experience of travel to a basketball tournament in Anchorage--'just' Anchorage!

Aurora is now on the basketball team and Douglas is filling in as the JV coach until one gets hired.  Last week Lumen Christi High School in Anchorage held the first basketball tournament of the year.  Both the JV girls and boys teams were registered to go.  Here is how it all plays out:

Two weeks before the tournament my husband volunteered me to be in charge of food for the girls team at the tournament (my penalty for not attending the parent meeting!).  That involved connecting with an experienced parent about the food they normally provide (all meals plus snacks) and what supplies the team already had, come up with a menu, ask for parent donations of home-cooked meals, shop for the food, find coolers for hauling all the items and get everything to the school in time for leaving.  It also included talking to the Athletic Director (When is the first game?), the bookkeeper who made the hotel reservations (Where are they staying?  Is breakfast provided?  Are there microwaves available?), the bus scheduler (What time does the bus leave?  How many meals need to be provided?) and the school secretary who is a basketball mom who helps coordinate everything.

Douglas was in Anchorage the week before the tournament so I sent him to Costco with a grocery list for the team.  I rounded up 5 coolers (!!) for all the items, 3 parents who donated meals, and coordinated the drop-off at school.  As it would happen, the weather reports were nasty:  freezing rain the whole Kenai Peninsula and Anchorage the day the kids were leaving.  They were supposed to leave at 4 p.m. after a short practice, but the weather reports were grim so in the interest of safety, the morning of the leave time was switched to noon to be in Anchorage before it got cold and the freezing rain was truly frozen on the roads and before it got dark (by 5 p.m. so close to solstice).  Kids, coaches, chaperones and me as food supplier were scrambling to adjust, but it all came together and all got up to Anchorage safely.  Whew!

Since my husband was coach, I got an insider's view of how things are run.  The kids had study halls and team meetings that structured their time.  The first day the girls played at 11:30 or so and the boys shortly after, so there wasn't a lot of spare time.  Friday, however, the boys played at 6:30 and the girls at 8:15 since both were in the winner's bracket.  That left a looooong day to fill, and team meetings and study halls weren't going to fill it all.  The coaches decided to go to the Anchorage Museum so the kids could see the Body Worlds Vital exhibit.  Transportation and coordination of 25-30 people, meals, studying, etc. took up the rest of the time till the kids needed to be at the school.  

Day 2 saw another win for the boys and girls which put both teams in the championship game:  6:30 p.m. for the girls and 8:15 p.m. for the boys.  Yikes!  The girls ended up getting second in the tournament and the boys first.  By 10 p.m. they were on the bus.  A quick stop at Fred Meyers gave the kids time to grab food if they wanted any.  Another quick stop in an hour at the Girdwood gas station gave the bus driver a chance to get a drink and the kids to take a bathroom break.  They had to be on the Kenai Peninsula by midnight (school district rule).  No more stops meant they pulled into Homer High School at 3 a.m.  Parents were on hand to pick up their kids.  A friend brought Douglas and Aurora home.  

All that food they'd taken was dumped in a big pile in the office.  Next morning we headed over there, sorted out the girls' food from the boys' food and cleaned up as best we could.  Once home I sorted out what food would be useable for this week's tournament (Yep!  We do it all over again!  Yet another tournament this week!), what would go bad before then and that the girls could eat during required study hall/dinner (On the days the girls have 6-8 p.m. practice they are required to go to study hall from 4-5.  Food is provided.).

Whew!  The kids and coaches missed 2 1/2 days of school, spent a lot of time in the bus, in hotels and 'killing time.'  The kids will be doing this probably 6 times this season for Anchorage area and Cordova tournaments and back-to-back game days.  Many of the sports teams have rigorous schedules like this.  Kids have to be so on top of things in order to maintain their grades in the face of long travel times (This is only the weekend tournaments!  They have games earlier in the week too, as far away as 2 1/2 hours on school nights!).  My daughter says the study halls are very helpful, as is having food provided.  These are not special traveling teams--these are just the normal high school sports in Homer.  I shake my head to think of how many times teams in the bush get on ferries and airplanes in a school year, particularly if kids are in multiple sports.

So this is my not-so-exciting but oh-so-Alaskan life in Homer at the moment:  coordinating food and travel!

And the only picture I have of the event:  the girls with their 2nd place trophy!

Jakolof Bay and Red Mountain

This is the entrance to Jakalof Bay, from the inside, on day 2--the sunny day!

A friend invited me across Kachemak Bay to stay in a cottage in Jakalof Bay for the weekend and bike, berry pick and explore.  It was a new experience for me to take a water taxi over and stay (I'd taken a water taxi and hiked for the day, and also gotten boat rides over with others, but not the water taxi and then explore with someone who didn't know the area) so I was a little uncertain what to expect.

The cottage we were to stay in had electricity (fridge, microwave, coffeemaker, lights), propane stove for cooking, a woodstove for heating and water in jugs for cooking and drinking.  It also had 2 double bunk beds, so all we needed to bring besides food and clothes was sleeping bags.  I had a hard time getting my head around having electricity in a cabin across the bay, and even in the 2 days of being there, I didn't get used to it.  It seemed like an oxymoron to have electricity in such a remote place.

But I get ahead of myself.  Once we decided to go, we called Mako's Water Taxi and told them when we'd like to leave on Saturday and when we'd like to be picked up on Sunday.  We got within an hour of our requested time.  After stopping at Mako's office above Pier 2 on the Spit Saturday morning, we hauled our backpacks and bikes down the ramp to "the blue boat"--the one boat Mako's owns (they contract out to other skippers and boats when needed).  A group was also heading over to Kayak Bay with their kayaks and camping gear so we all squished into the cabin of the boat to stay out of the rain and wind.  The water was rough, but not overly so, and the conversation was good, so the trip went quickly.  It took ten minutes to offload the kayakers, and then we headed over to Jakalof.

The Jakalof Bay dock--on the sunny day when we left!  The oyster farm buoys are barely visible in the water.

The last time I was in Jakalof Bay was for a very low tide tidepooling expedition based out of Kasitsna Bay Research Center, right around the corner from Jakalof Bay.  We weren't going to have a super low tide on this trip, which was too bad because it is an incredible tidepooling area.  The skipper expertly parallel parked the boat next to the dock and we hopped off and walked the two minutes across the parking lot and up the path to the Wharf Cottage (can't beat that for convenience!).

 Parking lot? you say.  From Jakalof, it is an 8.3 mile drive up a reasonably good road (it's all relative!) to Red Mountain, where chrome was mined around the turn of the century.  If you take a right out of the parking lot, 10 miles will find you in Seldovia.  Locals drive to the Jakalof dock to catch the water taxi since the taxi doesn't come all the way to Seldovia, and the ferry doesn't run as often as the taxi.  So the parking lot had a good 15-20 cars in it, some in working order, some not.

The cottage was cute--definitely an Alaskan cabin. It was small, but just having electricity made it seem slightly luxurious for this 'roughing it' type place!  A new outhouse out back made for a quick walk to the toilet--a relief in bear country.  In fact, just up the drive there were 3 piles of fresh berry-laden bear scat, though they were just black bear as no brownies live on this side of the bay.

We dropped our bags and bikes and immediately started exploring.  Salmonberries welcomed us, and soon we ran into the owner of the cottage, Carla, who has a log cabin just up the hill from the cottage.  We got to talking, then headed back to her very cozy (as in comfortable, though small) cabin.  A fire was roaring, so it was a welcome relief from the cold, damp outdoors.  We chatted for an hour or two over tea, then Carla offered to drive us up to Red Mountain.  We jumped at the chance!

I'd heard about Red Mountain--people bike out there, camp, explore.  I'd also heard it was 8 miles uphill so I didn't relish biking that in the rain.  A ride in a pickup truck by a local who knew everything (Carla has owned land in Jakalof since 1994) was heaven!  We grabbed our sandwiches and headed out.

Red Mountain is just that--red.  The surrounding mountains are all green and brush or tree covered, and there is a line where the green ends, nothing grows, and the rock is red.  It is a fascinating geologic feature, so different from the surrounding area, and like nothing else nearby.  As we wound up the road to the mountain, Carla regaled us with stories of locals, trails, and a wealth of insider information.

Despite what she had said, I wasn't quite prepared when we finally came into sight of Red Mountain.  It was so stark.  Termination dust (early season snow) covered the peak, when the peak peeked out from the cloud cover.  Old roads, now mere trails, to the mine shafts criss-crossed the valley and mountainside. 

Springs seeped out of the ground all over the place in the valley below Red Mountain.

Huge rocks stood like monoliths, scattered around the valley below Red Mountain, many with streams winding by.

 I admit, I am a sucker for all things wild and natural.  But I understood now why people like to go up to Red Mountain.  On a nice day (it stopped raining for a little bit while we were up there, which is as good as we got) it would be glorious to explore, picnic, just sit and gaze and wander about.  It felt park-like up there with all the red rock monoliths, streams and springs.  The vegetation was scrubby, but not trees, and it could be challenging walking because the valley floor was all boulders that plants had grown over.  But if you're not in a hurry and just wanted to soak it up, it was a magical place.  I'm already plotting going back, but I'm afraid it may not happen till next year.

We wandered about for awhile, soaking it all in and chatting some more (things shared can be so much more special!).  The drive back down was faster than up (about 1500 feet elevation gain from the dock to the base of the mountain where there road ends), and luckily we didn't meet any cars this time.  Going up we'd come around a tight, narrow corner and a big pickup was barreling at us.  With some maneuvering we were finally able to get past each other with no one going off the road.  The guys in the pickup had cleared a large tree that had fallen on the road, so we had them to thank that we'd even been able to get up to the end of the road.

By time we got back to the cottage it was pouring.  We parted with plans to meet up for a glass of wine and more chatting at Carla's cabin come evening, and headed into the cottage to get a fire started, eat dinner and relax.

We let the fire go out after heading up to Carla's that evening and it kept the cottage toasty comfortable through the night.  It had been a full day, even if we didn't do any berry picking or biking, so we were tired and ready to sleep that night.

Weather forecasts for Sunday had been for sunshine, so I was really banking on it being sunny.  How often have I seen a weather forecast for sunny in Homer in the past 5 months?  Like, never.  It was also supposed to be windy, with a small watercraft advisory out for many parts of south central Alaska, so I figured it might be interesting getting back.  But I was leaving the worries to everyone else and just enjoying myself.

But Sunday did dawn sunny though calm, so we got our daypacks filled up with lunch and buckets, bear spray and jackets, hopped on our bikes and headed up the road towards Seldovia.  Well, we obviously weren't too goal oriented because we didn't get far.  We stopped for every berry we saw, got off our bikes, picked and ate, talked, hopped back on, biked a little more.  Lunch happened in there too.  It was a gorgeous day and we kept peeling of layers.  Shorts would have been great, except for all the prickers:  devil's club, salmonberries, currants, whatever, when we wandered off the road to pick.  So I appreciated the heat, just happy for some nice weather.

We got back to the cottage, closed things up and locked up, then headed out to the dock to await the water taxi.  It was late, but we had cell service so called and found out they were about 15 minutes behind schedule.  No problem--beautiful day to sit on a dock and watch all the traffic go by--and there was an amazing amount of traffic.  Trucks in and out of the parking lot, boats in and out of the bay.  I hadn't realized this was such a hoppin' place.  We could see that the water outside of Jakalof Bay was quite choppy--the wind had come up since morning and things were now getting fun out there.

The water taxi ride back was a blast!  We were on a catamaran, and the sun was shining so it was gorgeous.  We picked up a couple other parties from the Kasitsna Bay area before heading back to Homer.  Once out of the protection of the bay, the water got rough--at least 3 foot seas at times.  And it was choppy, not nice, regular rollers.  The skipper was having a blast, cruising along at 25 knots (I don't know why, but that seems amazingly fast to me--particularly in the rough seas).  The boat just skimmed over the waves like they were nothing.  You would never have known the water was so rough if you weren't looking out.  Our bikes, tied on outside, were thoroughly sprayed with salt water and would need a good washing once home.

What this trip did for me is get me hooked on going across the bay like I've never been hooked before.  I've gotten over there 2-3 times a summer since we moved here, for up to a week at a time, but I've always been with other groups and been restricted in my activities.  I appreciated the freedom to stay and be able to go wherever, whenever (well, Jakalof has a road system, so that offers road options!).  My husband occasionally suggests getting a boat and I've squashed the idea, but now I am entertaining that thought myself....!

Entering the Homer Harbor after the fast, fun catamaran ride back from Jakalof.