Page 7 of 15
Kenai Fjords National Park, Alaska
They say the devil's water it ain't so sweet, you don't have to drink right now
From Seward it's just a short drive (in Alaskan terms) to the Exit Glacier visitors center at Kenai Fjords National Park, which in turn is just a short walk (in Alaskan terms) to the raw face of the small (in Alaskan terms) glacier itself. Set in a valley and receding quickly, Exit Glacier is certainly not the largest or most important glacier out there, but it is one of the few you can drive (and walk) right up to without having to rent a boat, plane or bear.
And while the parking lot may have been crowded (in Alaskan terms), the glacier most certainly was not. Halfway along on the normally passable trail a rather inconvenient (and cold) stream took over a large section of the trail. After quickly reinforcing my quickly fading though still trusted Lowa boots, I was able to pass by all the screaming tourists and continue unhindered as close to the icy blue edge as the multiple warning signs allow. It seems that unlike the fake iceberg in the Royal British Columbia Museum, touching a glacier isn't all that recommended- not because they're especially cold but more because they like to lose large, heavy chunks near their edges, chunks that have been known to injure and even kill smiling, posing unaware tourists from time to time.
I drove well over a thousand miles of Alaskan roads between Homer, Seward, Anchorage and all the way (just) past Fairbanks. What I found was horrible, horrible radio (I brought then bought my own cds), several windshields chock full of suicidal insects, occasional wildlife, killer scenery and amazingly aggressive local drivers. As someone who still somehow likes to drive, the roads were fun at times despite (or perhaps because of) such factors. Most of the time I found myself all alone cruising at 70 or 80 mph just waiting to catch up to another camper and fly into the oncoming traffic at the next passing zone, hoping the next turn would bring even more insects, more wildlife, more scenery. Way more fun than any boring local interstate could ever hope to be.
Recommended by Lonely Planet (so it must be good), the little Russian Orthodox Church in Ninilchik promised to be scenic and at least something to see on the long, hard road to Homer. The Lonely Planet guide specifically talked about the small scenic town (which was at least small) and the quaint little hike up to the church (which was framed by a lot of scary stay-off-my-property type signs). Up close the church was filled with even more threatening signs about staying out of the building and graveyard, possibly because in person those little onion domes looked as if they might have been constructed by a third grader who just learned what papier-maché was. Still it does take a fine picture just as both Lonely Planet suggested.
And even if the church wasn't all I'd hoped, the area around Ninilchik was still amazing. Across the water, across the Cook Inlet some fifty miles away a string of individual majestic snow capped volcanoes fading in the haze effortlessly put such frivolities as a man made church with little papier-maché onion domes right back in its place.
I wasn't all that impressed with Anchorage, the largest city in Alaska although possibly only by default. I decided to stay downtown in a nicer hotel, but found downtown not as nice as I'd hoped. In the summer there was a fair amount of homeless people, vendors selling reindeer hot dogs, an unpleasant little downtown shopping mall, and at least one well dressed salmon ready for whatever action a fiberglass salmon might run into on such mean streets.
There's not all that much happening in Alaska if you don't count the amazing scenery and wildlife. Every now and again there's a small town, some even have traffic lights or an expensive gas station, but most have even less. Seward itself was one of the big ones, although I don't quite remember seeing their one traffic light like the one that Homer's so proud of.
Still if you're drawn to the isolation and thinking of a career change, have I got an idea for you. On Alaskan television channels that don't feature non stop sea lion action there are ads for Alaskan Correctional Officers. While the idea of beating up troublesome eskimos and wrongly accused hippies in cold jail cells may be a draw, the bigger draw is their schedule: one week on and one week off. Imagine one week you're hosing down inmates and hoping not to be caught in a riot, the next you're hiking in the woods hoping not to be eaten by a bear. What could be better?
One of the (only) sights to see on the occasionally lonesome Sterling Highway is the Russian River Ferry and its world famous Combat Fishing, an annual ritual where way too many people fish for the same lonesome salmon. On my way to Homer the sight was doubly impressive as fishermen lined both sides of the river, but by the time I headed back toward Seward a few hungry grizzly bears ruined it for the rest of us by chasing after the tasty salmon and driving the fishermen to safety on the other side.
A giant, oversized picnic table on a lonesome beach or visitors from a race of super tiny tourists. You decide.
Most places in Alaska seem to have shiny new visitors centers, something that was appreciated although a little suspicious if you ask me. Most had a lot of stuffed animals, an interpretive exhibit about the 1964 earthquake and at least one reminder as to how man is destroying the local environment, possibly due to all of the shiny new visitors center construction.
This is inside the visitors center in Denali, although it could just have easily been in Fairbanks, Homer or Seward. As for the big fake moose, he may be impressive but he's not nearly as impressive as the real thing, although you're going to have to wait a few more pages to find out.
