Destination Circle: Day 20

June 2, 2016

Seward, Alaska

It's difficult to judge the time in the morning: is it 7 a.m. or 3:30 a.m? I don't think it gets truly dark at night as there was always light whenever I woke. I often fall asleep again until the thud of car doors slamming means it's probably actually morning.

Today started as overcast with low clouds settling on the mountains. A perfect morning to find my new favorite coffee house, the Sea Bean, in downtown Seward. It was light and airy with delicious food and coffee, and couches and prints on the walls and books and a chess board. I ordered breakfast and coffee and used their WiFi for two hours, listening to good bluesy music and the conversations of tourists. A motorcyclist came in with a little boy who had carefully-combed long blond hair with a cowlick from a helmet he had been wearing. Judging by the interplay between the guy and the kid, I made up a story: the guy (who looked so much like Keith Richards that I looked back at him a couple of times) was a wild dad who had picked up his sweet sober small son for a paternal visit. And took him to the local coffee shop on his motorcycle. "It wasn't terribly scary was it? It was kind of fun, doncha think?" he asked the quiet child.

The skies cleared by noon when I left.

Seward Harbor with cruise ship in background

Exit Glacier near Seward, Alaska

The tourists probably came in on the cruise ship and were querying about the shuttle to "the glacier." This is Exit Glacier, about 15 miles out of town in the Kenai Fjords National Park, and accessible for those who will hike to it. Which I did. A ranger-led group was explaining things to 8 to 10 adults, and I overheard that they would be gone 1-1/2 hours. But then found out that was because there was ranger talk and dawdling along the way. The actual trail was less than a mile, but with some elevation. A lady just ahead of me, while not in deep distress, was wondering "how much longer" to another park guy who happened by. "You're almost there; you are through the hard part..." I was relieved to hear this also.

Of course Exit Glacier has receded noticeably in the last 50 years but was still impressive to see so close. The fit and hardy hike an 8.1-mile "strenuous" trail farther up the glacier edge led by a dude in very long blond dreads. All were ready for action with their hiking poles and proper clothing. Everywhere I go are Bear and Moose Warning signs and what to do in a close encounter. Like for a moose (which are "unpredictable"), one should run away and get something between you and the moose; in a imminent black bear encounter, fight back; with a grizzly encounter, use bear spray and curl into a fetal position "protecting your neck and abdomen." But with both bears, first try to just "back slowly away, arms out wide and talk quietly to the bear."

one more Glaucous-winged Gull

When I got back to the beautiful Visitor Center, I asked about birds in the area. None of the four staff who were standing around waiting and eager to give out information knew birds, but one quickly got an iPad and a bird ID app and, between us, we figured I was hearing a Wilson's Warbler. I also saw clearly a Violet-Green Swallow.  They thanked me for asking questions.

One starts to become accustomed to the breathtaking scenery. It is everywhere....

I drove back to Anchorage, stopping by Potter Marsh to photograph a cooperative Arctic Tern, and then stayed near the airport, paying too much (even through Priceline) for a room which was 1/8 mile from the front desk and looked over the tar roof of an adjacent building. I had a gyro for dinner, though, that was delicious. The waitress spoke English as ESL, as so many of the employees do in the places I've been. There are parts of Alaska where the Russian influence is very evident; perhaps the accents are Slavic. The darling girl in the Sea Bean this morning also had an accent I didn't recognize. The dining room was full of jovial, mostly middle-aged to older folk. I figure tourists generally fly to Alaska (or take a boat) and these hotels near the airport are decompression chambers the first night. Some were eating al fresco on a patio overlooking Lake Hood, which I could easily see through floor to ceiling windows. It was late afternoon and sunny and just warm enough. But the ambiance (except for the huge taxidermied specimens in the lobby) was that of any bigger city in America. In fact, what I saw of Anchorage in general, in my cursory drive-throughs, was a city like Grand Rapids or perhaps Traverse City.

Arctic Tern at Potter Marsh

The world's largest seaplane base is on Lake Hood with hundreds of small floatplanes lining the five “fingers” of canals that were dredged to accommodate them. I figure Alaska is roughly square in shape, and only the southeastern section has roads. Thus, bush pilots are an important method of transport for many natives and visitors. Some of the outer communities and cities do have roads, but they are local and do not connect with any main routes. So escape or access is by air or water, or in some places, by rail or dogsled.

print on wall in the Sea Bean in Seward, Alaska

The rivers surprised me: most are broad with braided expanses of narrow flowing streams and huge gravel bars, littered with the skeletons of uprooted trees and driftwood. The whole scene looks like one could wade across or hop from bar to bar. Do these rivers rise and run with snow melt in the spring, changing channels, scouring the river bed, leaving debris?