Packing with Horses--The Resurrection Trail

What with the death of our nephew a couple weeks ago, moose hunting, classes beginning, starting homeschooling my kids and homeowner challenges, we had every reason to cancel our trip up the Resurrection Pass that we'd had planned for 6 months, but opportunities like this don't fall in our laps every day, so once again we carved the time out of our crazy lives to take a 37 mile hike up the Resurrection Pass over Labor Day weekend. And once again the blessing of the weekend was of being surrounded by family and the wild remoteness of Alaska.

When I speak of opportunities "falling in our laps," I mean that literally. My cousin Angela and her husband Klaus have been trying to make this trip for years, and each year something happened to upset their plans. Our next challenge was trying to find time that would work for all of us: Angela and her family, my aunt and uncle, and our family. Labor Day weekend ended up being a viable option, especially since we would have the horses along packing most of our equipment and food so the hiking wouldn't be quite as grueling. All we really had to do was show up with our food, clothes and gear; Angela made the reservations 6 months in advance (to the day, since the cabins along the trail are filled nearly every night of the summer months), and Delores and John brought 2 of their horses and picked up 2 more on the way (one of Angela's and one of Ronna's).

The first day of hiking, about 9 miles up to the Juneau Lake cabin, was, well, pretty boring. It was well treed with few views and didn't inspire me. We'd started in mid-afternoon, so we had to move right along with only one break for a waterfall. In the Lower 48, this waterfall would probably be a huge attraction, but a 4-5 mile hike precedes reaching this plunging, roaring mass of water, and it got only a quick 10 minute break from us.

All the cabins along the Resurrection Trail are new within the past couple years, so they were clean and nice, but also lacking character. Juneau Lake's housing used to be an old trapper's cabin that was very dark and had few, small windows. All of the new cabins are large with lots of windows, all with stoves (the cabin in Devil's Pass had an oil heater since there was no wood for fuel, and it used to be an A-frame with a loft). Still, we had 9 people in our party, so a couple got to sleep on the floor each night.

Each cabin had it's special highlight: Juneau Lake was a treat for the kids since there was a canoe available that came with the cabin so they had a blast paddling around, and we even snuck up close to a couple of loons. The highlight of the cabin in Devil's Pass was crowberries: the ground was covered with a carpet of berries. Although we'd rather have been picking blueberries since crowberries are a bit seedier and less sweet than the blues, we were happy to be picking anything. The final night we stayed near a river and there was a huge patch of currants with a spattering of highbush cranberries to fill our free time with picking.

Day 2 brought another 9 miles of hiking, but we had all day to get there so we took a few more breaks. We had some elevation gain this day as we entered Devil's Pass. Passing up berries was the agony of the day. We passed bushes loaded with watermelon berries, crowberries, blueberries, highbush cranberries and more. With the horses we couldn't just stop and pick at our leisure. It was delightful to get above treeline and see the vistas of mountains. We saw about 25 Dall sheep on a mountainside above us, tiny pinpoints of white. The binoculars just made them slightly bigger pinpoints of white, but it was still neat to know they were up there.

Day 3 was a bit grueling. We had 13 miles to hike, and didn't get started till nearly 11:00 by time we ate and packed and then watered, fed and loaded the horses. We were above treeline much of the day, and were thankful that it was a beautiful, sunny, warm day. The picture at the top is of all of us at Resurrection Pass (2500 feet) where we met a couple mountain bikers taking a break. Soon after we stopped for that photo break we met a group with about 10 horses packing out a moose they'd shot. We took numerous breaks this day as there were a number of beautiful mountain streams along it, but it was with great relief that we finally got to the cabin after 8 hours of hiking. Of course, the work begins in earnest then, as the horses have to be tended, everything unloaded, dinner made, and sleeping arrangements laid out. We were all happy to be in bed by 9:30 that night.

Day 4 was back into trees, but much of it was scenic and if I didn't know better I would have thought I was in the Midwest. Popal trees were shedding their yellow leaves onto the trail, with the yellow canopy over our heads making a cozy tunnel at times. We encountered more bear scat that day in the last 4 miles than we'd seen on the entire trail. The trails were lined with ripe rosehips--more rosehips than I've seen in my entire life. And since it was Labor Day, the mountain bikers and hikers were out en force, so it seemed we were constantly moving over for or scootching around others on the trail. The northern end of the Resurrection Pass is within 2 hours of Anchorage, so makes for a viable day trip for city folk.

Packing horses made this trip more interesting and a new experience for us. I led the lead horse, Freedom, nearly the entire 37 miles save a couple miles Aurora rode him. It made for a quiet, lonely time in a way since with my hearing impairment I couldn't join in the conversations yelled across horses. My uncle followed with Eclipse, a young horse that bucked Aurora off Day 3 when she tried to ride him. Dazzle (Aurora's love) and Lightening followed, led by Angela and Delores. Klaus and Douglas are not horse people and were happy to bring up the rear with the kids, snatching berries and enjoying the scenery.

This is a multi-use trail, with backpackers, mountain bikers and horseback riders sharing it in the summer, and cross-country skiiers, dog mushers and snowmobiliers sharing it in the winter. I felt a little tension when different groups met, partly because horses can be unpredictable. I am no expert horse handler, I had the largest horse by far of the group, and I was leading so I was always on the lookout for oncoming traffic that might spook the horses. Luckily Freedom was not skittish on this trip (he's been known to be skittish when I've ridden him) so it was mostly an uneventful trip despite meeting dozens of others on the trail--mostly the last day as we neared the northern trailhead and people out for the day. The weather was gorgeous--couldn't have been better--so it wasn't like I would get soaked stepping off the trail into the grass or like we were miserable and just wanted to get there (wherever we were going that day).

I felt deeply like I was part of Alaska during this weekend of packing. It was an extension of our weekend of moosehunting, with the land making its way inside my psyche and hooking me. Over and over I read about people falling in love with Alaska and not being able to leave--not wanting to leave. It so often catches people by surprise; they don't necessarily go there looking for an experience. Over and over I have thought to myself since we've moved here: "I'm never going to be able to leave, even if I want to." I feel like a romantic, mushy ninny when I say that. I feel like I'm repeating all the dozens of people I've read who have said that same thing in different ways. I'm embarrassed to admit it has happened to me too. I am hungry for more: I want to experience all this more fully, more deeply, more often. For now, I will sneak away when I can and dream often of the wilds of Alaska.

An Alaskan Tradition: Moose Hunting

Just as we talk about apple pie being American, when one talks about what Alaskans do, moose hunting tops the list. Thus, when my uncle offered to take us moose hunting the other week, although I was up to my eyeballs in work, I jumped at the chance and rearranged my schedule to make it happen.

I was hoping for a gloriously sunny weekend--the type that just fills you up and makes the joy of being outdoors just well up and overflow. That was not to be. As we loaded up the 4-wheelers it began to drizzle and the evening got darker and more depressing. Although the weather was a downer, we were in good spirits, eager to see what the hunt would bring. Part of the challenge of loading was deciding where to put and how to carry all the guns. We had 2 pistols for bear protection and 3 rifles to maximize our chance of getting a moose (or encountering a bear and protecting the moose meat).

The first hour of 4-wheeling got us 8 miles down the trail. While it started out as this nice graveled road you see it pictured, it eventually deteriorated into a mucky, bumpy (!!) track. The final mile to our camp we got stuck 4 times. That is, my uncle in the lead got stuck 4 times. It took us 45 minutes to go the final mile. It was a relief to get there and get out of the rain, peel off the wet stuff and unpack our stuff. First we had to un-booby trap the cabin we were staying it. The outhouse was boarded up, barbed wired wrapped around the cabin, windows boarded up and sheet of nails in front of the door removed. You would think we were in New York City for all the protection, but bears wreak havoc on cabins. On this cabin a bear once ripped the boards off the windows to get inside to the food; thus the barbed wire addition.

Next morning dawned wet. Douglas and my uncle John were up at 5:30 and out the door by 6:00. They hiked up the trail a ways to a spot John knew the moose hung out. That morning they saw a few moose, but no legal ones. Legal has changed. In the past, any bull moose was fair game to kill, but now the bulls have to either have antlers smaller than a certain size, or over 50 inches. As anyone who has hunted knows, it is pretty hard to tell rack size when it's raining, just getting light, and the moose is a ways from you. It makes this game a lot harder since you have to get closer and be at the right angle to see the antlers. My uncle, a 40+ year veteran of Alaskan moose hunts, says it's not as fun this way, but that something needed to be done because there simply are not as many moose as there used to be, no matter what the officials say.

By 9:30 the guys were back to camp. The moose head upland at night and down to the lowlands in the morning and then hunker down all day. You could put in time during the day looking for tracks and signs of them, but it wouldn't be efficiently used time. So the guys ate breakfast and went back to bed, while the kids, my aunt Delores and I headed out berrypicking. The area we were in was ravanged by fire a few years ago, and last year there were no berry plants or berries, so we were tentatively hopeful. The area was splotchy, with some areas so burned there was no vegetation, and then we discovered a grand bed of blueberries. We picked for 2 hours, but with the wet bushes and wind our fingers were frigid so we finally gave it up.

The day was spent making food, taking naps, playing games, reading and talking. A little before 7:00 that evening Doug, John, Aurora and I headed out for the evening hunt. We were watching the lowlands, looking for moose heading up. We found a moose wallow, a bare patch of ground where a moose had rubbed the ground clear to the dirt, and set up watch nearby. At 9:15, after 2 hours of not seeing a single moose, we headed back to camp.

Next day dawned wet again. This time the guys came back at 9:30 in high spirits, talking and laughing about the moose they'd seen. A moose with a 30-ish inch rack had stood in the trail just 20 yards away from Doug--a perfect shot--but wasn't legal size so he had to pass it up. They saw 9 moose between them that morning; some they couldn't tell if they were legal while others were clearly cows.

Once again we headed up the hills to go berry picking, this time going right to the rich patch loaded with big, ripe blueberries we'd left behind yesterday. It wasn't raining, but the plants were wet and there was a strong wind blowing. The clouds were so low they obscured the top of the hills above us at times, and as we were heading out of the patch that day they got so low we couldn't see much around us. It was a good time to get back to the 4-wheelers and find the trail.

That evening we all took the 4-wheelers down the trail a ways at 5:00, hoping to get set up and catch the moose as they came up. The weather had cleared and it was now gloriously sunny and we had an incredible view of the the Alaska Range on one side, with Mt. Redoubt's small plume poofing up into the sky, and the Kenai Range on the other, with its snow-capped peaks. We split up into 2 groups, checking out different areas for trails and tracks and finally settling down by a water hole that had a well-worn animal track along it. Again, we saw no moose and the berries weren't plentiful in that area so it was a time of conversation and quietness.

The final morning the guys took the 4-wheelers out to get to their spot earlier. They saw 9 moose again, but they were on the move and too far away to tell size. It was too close to dawn, the the animals needed to be hunkered down somewhere before the sun rose. When the guys got back to camp we started packing up, cleaning out, re-booby trapping the cabin, a process that took several hours. Less than a half mile from camp, as we were 4-wheeling down the section of trail we'd gotten stuck in coming up, we saw this delightfully beautiful bear print. Aurora got back on the 4-wheeler and grabbed me tighter than she's grabbed me in a long time. We knew it was a fresh track because we'd just met some 4-wheelers coming in minutes before. Wow!

Reflections:
I wanted so badly to get a moose so that we could experience the whole process of moose hunting. My aunt and uncle actually process the moose themselves, cutting it up into steaks, grinding it into burger, etc. Moose hunting without a moose to take back was very disappointing, and even now, 2 weeks later, I am so disappointed I want to cry when I think about it.

What I loved about moose hunting was being out there. I can't say we were in the woods, because most of the trees were burned, and then much was above treeline anyways. Shall I say, "out in the wilderness?" It doesn't seem so wild now that I've been there. When we first got there on Thursday evening, I said to myself, "What's so special about this place?" But the beauty is like much of Alaska: a cold, ethereal hugeness that is hard to take in. It's so big, and so, so beautiful. And the beauty got inside me like a sliver and now I find myself wanting to go back. Moose or no moose, I want to tramp those hills and explore, pick berries, gaze at the mountains and hills, and reach and touch the sky. Yes, I gaze at the mountains and Kachemak Bay every day from my window, but there is something special about being out there in it, feeling the rhythms of the land and animals. Being there for the hunt made me look at the land differently--needing to be in tune with it rather than oblivious to it. I am so glad I carved the time out of my schedule to be there and experience this. It was a special time.

The end--an unusually warm day marked our departure, so our ride out was
much more comfortable than our ride in!

Girdwood, Alaska--Beautiful Village of Chalets

The only other time we've visited Girdwood, 30 minutes south of Anchorage, was at Christmas when we went downhill skiing at Alyeska Resort, and that is what really puts Girdwood on the map. Yet it is an achingly beautiful place in the summer too as Douglas and I found out this past weekend as we spent three days in one of the chalets on a retreat. Huge amounts of snow in the winter translate into much rain in the summer, so the area has a rain forest feel to it: huge pine trees dripping with moss, lush vegetation and thick moss covering rocks and tree trunks in the woods.

We had some time before our retreat started on Friday, so we headed down Crow Creek Pass Road to explore the area. Three miles down what felt like a deserted country road we came to the Crow Creek Mine. There was a campground there ($5 a night!), and the mine grounds were beautifully kept up and aesthetically appealing. A walking tour led from the blacksmith's shop at the entrance, up past the meat cache and mess hall to a miner's cabin. For a small fee they deck you out with miner's supplies and give you directions to Crow Creek where you dig up some gravel and then haul it to the sluice where you pan for gold--finders keepers! From 1898-1940, an average of 700 ounces of gold were mined here each month (the largest nuggest found was the size of a chicken's egg!) until production costs grew too great. According to a brochure, "It's estimated that more gold remains on the site than has ever been recovered!" The creek was excavated 200 feet, so there is now a gorge that the river rushes through, with the beginning of it pictured here.

The next gem we discovered in Girdwood was the Virgin Creek Falls (pictured at top of entry). It was perhaps a 1/4 mile or less hike from the trailhead to the falls, and the trail wound through a beautiful evergreen forest with moss as the predominate vegetation. However, I doubt we would have found this on our own. It is not marked from the main road; in fact, until you get to the end of a series of roads through town that lead to it and you see a small sign tucked in among the blueberry bushes, you don't even realize it is a trailhead. So we were glad that the group leaders chose this as one of our hikes for the weekend. It would be a wonderful place to go back to without a big group (there were 30 of us there!) and enjoy it in peace.

The final delight of the weekend (another group hike!) was a 3 mile hike that begins (or ends, depending!) at the Alyeska tram (the motorized one) at the base of Mt. Alyeska and ends over on Crow Pass Road near the Crow Creek Mine. The highlight of this hike is the hand tram where you get into a cage and pull yourself across the river which is 200 feet below. Or, if you are lucky, there is someone on one end or the other to pull you across, in which case you just enjoy the ride! Once the riders are across you pull the empty tram back and load it up again. With our large group it took quite some time to get everyone across, but it was great fun.

Even without the tram, the hike is one of the most beautiful I've been on in Alaska. The trail is mostly hard packed dirt, wide enough to walk side-by-side with one or two people. A few places were boardwalk, and since it had been raining for 4 days straight there were some muddy places that were easily skirted. The trees were huge, there was a plethora of mushrooms, and the sense was of being in a rain forest. I was busy chatting the whole time and hardly noticed the scenery, so this hike is on my list to go back to and really relish the area. By the way, there is a name for this trail, but I don't know what it is!

We drive by Girdwood every time we go to Anchorage, and while I thought it was a quaint ski village, I never realized it was so delightful in the summer as well. In walking through town (too strong a word, really), I was amazed at how many homes are tucked in at the base of Mt. Alyeska. Nearly all seemed to be chalets, log cabins, rustic and so delightful to look at in the winter when covered with snow. There is a long, nicely paved path from one end of Alyeska Resort to the other which we enjoyed a number of times over the weekend. I look forward to future trips to Girdwood for camping, hiking, and of course skiing, and am amazed that we've missed this gem until now!

Haying in Alaska

Since we've moved to Alaska, it has become a much-anticipated tradition to help my aunt and uncle with the haying each summer. They are in their late 60's and early 70's so don't throw haybales so well anymore, so they really appreciate our strong, young backs!

Haying happens once per summer on the Kenai Peninsula. It can range from the first week in July during a really hot year to well into August if the weather doesn't cooperate. This year the weather did not cooperate, so it resulted in weeks of anticipation that we were ready to drop whatever was going on to run to Ninilchik and help get the hay in. Although the weather in Homer is not always the same as 40 minutes up the road in Ninilchik, I noticed it was sunny Thursday and Friday and that they were haying in Homer, so I mentally counted the days: Cut on Friday, dry on Saturday and Sunday, bale on Monday. Sure enough, my uncle called Monday morning. As soon as I heard his voice I said, "We're ready to come down as soon as you need us! We're ready to hay!" The dew was heavy, and he didn't anticipate it drying off enough till late afternoon, so we got our bags packed for a quick take-off.

At 6:15 we finally got the call: we're haying! They'd gotten one load in by time we got there with a couple of young guys from California who were visiting as well as Kelli and Todd, their daughter and son-in-law. Two more loads and a couple hours later, 500 bales were in the barn. It was a relief to get some dinner (finally!), wash the sweat and grime off and rest our weary muscles. Heaving dozens of 40-60 lb. bales of hay around for hours is one workout that gets my heart rate up. In fact, one of my friends told me today that a guy near Ninilchik dropped dead of a heart attack in the middle of a field while haying yesterday. The more people on your team throwing bales the less stress on each person, and it can be more fun depending on who the group is.

The kids find haying a blast. Since they're both not quite strong enough to throw the bales up on the wagon they each got a turn driving the truck this, an essential role, but one that allows the more physically able to heave bales. Aurora did help unload the wagon in the barn since gravity helped do a lot of the work. They ride the top of the hay wagon, ride the bales as they come out of the baler, run around the field, swing from ropes high up in the hay barn and otherwise stay happily occupied.

This year, though it was a late crop, was average for this field. They got 905 bales off it. Last year they got a measly 710 bales, while 6 years ago was a whopper year with nearly 2000 bales from this field. So there was satisfaction that the horses would be fed for another winter, as well as relief that it was finally done and they could go on vacation. Until the hay is in, life is somewhat on hold, waiting to see what weather comes and if the window is large enough to get it all in.

People all over the world hay, but for us this has become part of our Alaska experience: something we never did in the Lower 48. As grueling as it can be, there is a sense of comraderie and fun. And like I mentioned when we were out there the other day: It's always sunny when you're haying!

HELP! Please Turn Over

By Michelle

As Denver and I were walking on Bishop's Beach this afternoon checking out the high tide flotsam and plethora of baby kelp bulbs, I noticed what looked like a rectangular piece of foam tucked in among the debris. I often pick up trash on the beach if it doesn't look too messy to carry in my pocket, and something about this piece of trash caught my eye. I turned it over and saw in big, bold letters, "HELP". I thought it was a prank, or something someone in a shipwreck might throw into the water. However, I turned it over and read the inscription on the other side: "This is a drift card for a current study of Seldovia Bay and its interaction with Kachemak Bay conducted by Seldovia Village Tribe. If you find this card please contact....and provide the following information: card number, date and time, distance and direction from Seldovia or Seldovia Point. If found in the water, release this card where you found it. If found stranded on the shore, dispose of this card properly." We thought that was pretty cool that we found this and actually picked it up to look at it. We headed back up to Islands and Ocean where Denver was going to the weekly Discovery Lab.

By Denver:

As I walked into Islands and Ocean I was feeling excited to be part of a current study. Soon I went into the Discovery Lab. After looking at a few of the stations, I told the attendant at a station about the drift card and she seemed pretty interested. She told me more about the card and told me it was for studying surface currents on the ocean. She got on the computer and showed me maps of their (Islands and Ocean's) drift card study and where the cards ended up. They print out the message and varnish it to a block of wood. It was interesting hearing the results of the experiment. They dropped 500 drift cards in a straight line at the other side of Kachemak Bay on the curve heading back down the Kenai Penisula. Surprisingly, only a couple cards landed in Kachemak Bay. The rest ended up in the Kenai River area. In another study drift cards were dropped by a high school girl who made 1000 drift cards and threw them out in a straight line right before the curve across Kachemak Bay. She thought they would all end up in Kachemak Bay but she was wrong! Almost all of them ended up in the Alueutian Islands area and only 3 were found in Kachemak Bay. Her study showed there was a surface current that nobody ever knew about. It was fun being part of a cool study and learning more about the ocean that I live by. I would like to do a study with drift cards too.

Buying a House in Homer

After renting a house for two years, we finally decided to take the plunge and become homeowners again. However, the decision to do so was easier than finding a house that we all would be happy with. Living 30 minutes out of town became quite a drag the past 6 months as our kids got more involved in sports, my husband began playing basketball again, and I yearned to be closer to friends and activities. So it was a no-brainer choosing a place closer to Homer, but how close was the question. I wanted to be within a few miles of town, while Douglas, who was going to have a long drive to work once we moved, wanted to be a bit further out. Location helped narrow our search, as of course price does.

Prices made us cringe: our $130,000 house in Michigan would easily be double that or more here in Homer. Homes with a view of Kachemak Bay seemed to be a good $20-$30 K more than places whose view was obstructed by trees. All but one place we looked at had a view of the bay, though some better than others.

Without housing code here, homes tended to be built haphazardly by whomever, without thought for future owners, logic or quality. Most 3 bedroom homes we looked at were in the $275,000-$300,000 range, on about one acre, and were in crummy shape, needing many repairs to get them comfortable and livable. We were still burnt out on home improvements from our house in Michigan so we had no desire for a fixer-upper.

Our Realtor patiently showed us house after house, not censoring them too much. Nearly all of the houses we looked at were empty, some having gone into foreclosure and others the owners had to leave Alaska for family issues, health issues or jobs. Many had been on the market as long as two years, and without any care, were pretty ragged looking. In some we could see potential, but many were so bizarre we couldn't see living there. Our son liked the strange houses, and our daughter wanted to be close to friends and hoped for climbing trees. I wanted a greenhouse and garden, while my husband thought having a workshop would be a treat.

Amazingly, we found a place that fit nearly all these specs, but not until we expanded our search to 2-bedroom homes that might have an extra room that could be converted into a bedroom. The house we found is within walking distance of my daughter's best friend, with enough weirdness to please our son, a greenhouse and raised bed garden with tons of flowers for me and a heated workshop for my husband, and yet in move-in condition. The price was out of our range, but after two years the seller was ready to sell and came down on the price enough to be within our price range, so we have become proud homeowners.

Part of my heart is still up at the end of East End Road. I left friends up there, and I will miss the wide open spaces and privacy of no neighbors within earshot, the long season of snow skiing and snowshoeing from my door, the pond down the drive, all the horses, and the tremendous views of Portlock and Dixon Glaciers. My tradeoff is that now I sit up in bed and see the Homer Spit and ships on the bay, I have a more workable yard (it's mine!), we will have leaves to rake and will get fall colors on the ridge above our home (yellow aspen), and our drive to town does not involve taking a cooler full of food and clothes for an entire day of unknown weather changes.

It is great fun to be able to plan changes for house and yard--to own where we live once again. The kids have discovered ripe strawberries, blueberries, raspberries and watermelon berries right in our yard, and there are many nooks and crannies for them to explore in the house, outbuildings and yard. Best of all, they have had playdates galore. For us, our new place came with a guest cottage, so we are hopeful for company! After all this, I have realized that no "place" can make us happy, and yet people are the joy that keep our lives fresh and meaningful, so our prayer for our home is that it be a source of love and good company.

Right Beach--Camping Across the Bay

Heading out of the Homer Harbor. Our destination is straight ahead where the boats are.
We hadn't planned on a camping trip so soon after returning from our vacation, but when my aunt and uncle invited us across the Bay, we couldn't resist the opportunity so we packed up our camping gear (again!) and prepared for the journey! In my uncle's boat and smooth waters, it can take as little as 16 minutes to speed across Kachemak Bay to Halibut Cove. Right Beach where we camped is like an island at high tide since rock pillars at each end of it hem it in, and cliffs and bluffs covered with Devil's Club back it up.

Our weekend started with a glorious, sunny day on Friday and loading up the boat at the Homer dock, one of those incessantly busy places in the summer. Six of us were going over on Friday, and another 7 of our party were going to come over on Saturday. The water was fairly smooth so the ride over was a fast one, and then we had the challenge of unloading the 2 kayaks, stoves, tents, sleeping bags, pads, food and various other miscellany. Once the pile was on shore, we started hauling it up and deciding where to put up tents, where to have the fire, etc. It was so hot kids were swimming on the beach when we got there (there was already a large party already camping at the beach in the yurt and tents), and that's what we wanted to do too once camp was set up. However, soon enough the wind blew up and it got chilly and we were donning our warmer weather gear.

The first evening as we were sitting around the fire a harbor seal came walking (wrong word: waddling? scootching?) out of the water across the beach towards us, checking us out and obviously very curious. It was so neat (sorry--no picture!), and throughout the weekend we would see a seal pop up by shore every few hours, look at us, then swim away, but it never came out of the water again.

The second day was overcast but the water was calm and still so we took turns going out in the kayaks. Heading further into Halibut Cove the rock formations were fascinating, looking like lava rocks that had been twisted into bizarre contortions. When the rest of the party arrived midday, we had lunch and then headed into Halibut Cove with everyone on board the boat to the Grewingk Glacier trailhead. A quick 2 mile (maybe not even that) hike got us to the glacier lake where we threw rocks, ate snacks and tried to stay warm as a nippy wind blew off the glacier and it began to rain. Some of us decided to take the "long" hike back (Glacier Spit Trail, then a mile on the beach), and hope the tide was still far enough out to walk back to our campsite. It was an easy hike, completely flat, following the historic path of the glacier. We'd seen plenty of berry-filled bear scat along the trail, so we talked loudly to warn of our presence.

The highlight of this trip for Denver was the "cave" on one end of the beach. He borrowed dad's headlamp and made excursions into it (all 15 feet!), identifying popcorn, stalactites and other features learned from the cave tour we took near Butte, Montana this summer. Denver gave official "tours" of the cave to everyone who would walk down the beach with him to visit it.

After much camping in the Lower 48 this summer, we deeply appreciated the lack of what I call the "ickies": no wood ticks, no snakes, no mosquitoes and no flies. It makes camping so much more pleasant to not have to look out for these things, though of course bear are the "biggie" that we watch out for here (give me one bear we can scare away with our noise over a zillion mosquitoes any day!).

While we didn't yurt-it, this looks like a great option, though a tad pricey at $65/night. This yurt at Right Beach had 3 double beds, a woodstove, portable propane cookstove and, out back, an outhouse with no door. For that kayak trip along this area, a yurt would provide a dry, warm night if it is rainy or cold!