On Taking a Painting Class...In Homer!

There are certain groups of people of Homer that are endearing (or annoying, if you've been here too long!):  the casual xtra tuffs crew, the ultra liberals to the very conservatives, the environmental activists, the uber athletes, the adventure-seekers, the fishermen....and the artsy crew.  While my family rubs elbows with members of all these groups daily, we don't deeply identify with any of these groups ourselves, nor are we immersed in them.  Knowing how strong the arts are in Homer, I was a bit nervous about taking a painting class at the local college, Kachemak Bay Campus.  But the urge to paint has been lying dormant in me with brief flare-ups when I've taken two informal community-education-type painting classes over the past 7 years.  This was a big step:  a college class, 5 hours a week for 15 weeks in class plus more outside-of-class painting as well.  I screwed up my courage and dove in!

The students range ages 18 to 84, with the beginning, intermediate and advanced classes all combined into this one class to meet enrollment requirements, so the experience level is varied.  Some had painted before, some had not.  Some are prolific painters (like the 84-year-old grandma--she seems to do a painting a day and she is good!), while others appear to mostly come to class and paint. Some had worked with other mediums (this is an oil, water-based oil or acrylic class).  Some just had experience drawing.  Some have space at home to paint, while others take advantage of the open studio hours (most every weekday, all day!) and do their out-of-class painting on campus.  Everyone came in with supplies they already pulled together, and we got a primer on what we "had" to have and what we could use a substitute for (like paper plates instead of a palette or plywood for canvases) and pros and cons of each. 

The instructor is Asia Freeman.  You have to check out her website at http://www.asiafreeman.com/ to know that she is an awesome painter (eek!  What am I doing here?!).  My first introduction to Asia was over Christmas when my son and I were wandering around the Anchorage Museum's Art Gallery and came across a couple of Asia's painting's.  I had no idea who she was, but I recognized the name and knew she was from Homer.  First class I finally put a face with the name and realized I'd seen her around town and my son was classmates with her son (small town....).   Having an active artist as an instructor makes for great richness in understanding the questions we are faced with:  cost of supplies, where to order them, alternative supplies, and on and on.  Both Asia's mother and grandmother were art teachers, and in fact her mother designed the art room (pictured below) on campus.  Asia's roots in the arts in Homer run deep.  She is also the director of Bunnell Street Gallery (http://www.bunnellstreetgallery.org/), a non-profit whose mission is "To nurture and present innovative art of exceptional quality in all media for diverse audiences," so many local "artsy" activities are brought up and we have been encouraged to get involved in the art community of Homer.

The art studio at Kachemak Bay Campus.  Couldn't capture the amazing view of mountains out the window!

First class we were each given some white gesso, some black acrylic paint, a blank sheet of canvas and a 2" chip paintbrush like you get at the hardware store.  Instructions:  PAINT!  My stomach flip-flopping and hands sweating, I started painting.  Uh, that one went to the trash.  I truly couldn't stand it.  My next one, though, is lots of people's favorite:  the crazy toaster.  Still-lives, in black and white, with a 2" chip brush.  Geez.  What a way to start!

My first painting of the semester--black and white acrylic still life of a toaster.

Ok--so the toaster is misshapen and there are so many things wrong with it--but that cord is quite interesting the way it is squiggling all over the place, and even a misshapen toaster can be interesting! 

So we moved on to wipe-outs, to single color paintings in different shades or hues, to a single color with that color's complementary color, and then adding more color (still doing still lives.....) and then RELIEF!  Time for landscapes!  Except that the landscape was restricted to the view out the window.  This is, after all, Homer in the winter.  There were days that the view out the window was visible less than an hour before it got dark.  Other days the clouds were whipping by and the sun was playing hide and seek so every time we looked out the window what we were painting looked different--and it's all about light so how to paint what's always changing?  How many scenes can you find out the window?  Innumerable, I discovered.  We jockeyed for position each class period--some up close to the window, some way back.  We'd have to scootch here or there as our view was obstructed.  It's a messy process....but it is painting...in beautiful Homer...!  Our class alone probably painted at least 15-20 views out that window in the past several weeks--and each was special and had its own flavor.

I was tired of jockeying for position, and I was tired of the view that kept changing and tired of that particular view so I started looking through my Alaska photos for pictures I would like to paint and found one of Turnagain Arm that is my favorite (both the picture and my painting--it's in my blog somewhere from last May or June), and another in Cooper Landing overlooking Kenai Lake.  I set up my iPad next to my canvas and painted from that.  Not ideal, but this is practice anyways, right?  And the conditions outside are so less than ideal....

Then Asia announced the paintings that struck terror in more than a few hearts:  portraits.  But she let us cheat.  We could start with a landscape with a small (tiny!) figure in it, and each painting the figures should be larger.  Tuesday I began a self-portrait, not wanting to massacre a painting of someone else and make them feel awful that I massacred them.  Someone painted me:  they did a nice job at capturing my essence as I painted (hunched shoulders, hair flying in every direction...).

In a few weeks we have the Kachemak Bay Campus student art showcase.  We pick the one or two paintings we most want to show and it is displayed for 3 weeks in the KBC commons.  I both want and don't want to have something displayed.  Part of me doesn't want to have people walking by my painting thinking, "She sucks as a painter!"  Part of me is darned proud of having done this.  How many people paint?  Well, lots in Homer, but most people cut off the possibility of their being any good before even trying it.  For years I've coached my students in learning positive communication skills: "How many times did you fall before you learned to walk?  Thousands?  Keep at it--keep practicing.  It does get better.  Don't expect it to be perfect right away."  I try to remind myself of that.  Some days are better than others.

My at-home painting studio.  If I turn around I have a stunning view of Grewinck Glacier I need to paint someday.

Now it's Thursday afternoon and I am blogging about painting rather than painting.  My stuff is all set up in my at-home studio, in the cabin opposite my office desk.  I will paint today....even when I'm cringing and thinking, "This looks awful" or thinking, "I need some exercise" or "I'm hungry...how about I get something to eat?"  Like my urge to write, painting pulls me in.  I wish I could explain it.  It is a skill to develop, but it also changes the way I see the world.  I notice light on things. I observe subtle colors.  I take in how things are put together...and how they exist in relation to other things.  I'm in my infancy of pulling out the essence of what I see and trying to convey that on canvas.

A mish-mash sampling of my paintings from this semester, in no particular order. 

I've learned about painting, but also about seeing.  I've learned about brushes and paint and canvases.  I've learned about great artists.  I've learned what it's like to share one room with 11 other painters.  I've learned to notice what I like in others' paintings, and to share feedback tactfully.  I've learned to be gentle with myself.

Taking this class reminds me of my favorite quotes by Oliver Wendall Holmes Sr.:

One’s mind, once stretched by a new idea, never regains its original dimensions.

Once this class is over in a month, I may not pick up a paintbrush again for awhile, but the things I've learned will continue to reverberate in me.  I am a different person, and it is a journey worth taking.

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!