There are two things to keep in mind when you do a road trip in Alaska. One: the summer sun doesn’t set until past 11pm. And two: distance is measured more in hours than in miles. You quickly adapt your driving patterns understanding that the sun will be out longer and the location you are headed to will be much farther. In fact, you won’t blink twice about driving five hours for an overnight trip. It’s just a way of living here.
So on Sunday Jason and I decided to head to Homer, Alaska: the Hallbut capital of the world. But before we hit the road, Justin convinced us to join him for some fishing. My fishing license expired at 2:30pm on Sunday so I had the chance to get in some time at the creek before we hit the great wide open.
The fish weren’t biting. But the bees were. Jason lucked out in the family gene pool – he isn’t allergic to bees – which is a good thing cause he got stung a few times when he searched out a fishing hole that was, as we discovered, right near a hive. I’d like to say I stood by his side, but truth be told as soon as I saw him swatting at what were obviously not mosquitoes I dropped my bag and bolted away. I don’t like things that flutter or fly. I don’t like things with wings – sometimes this even includes planes. And I sure as hell don’t like things that bite or sting or come with the risk of instant swelling and death. So when it came down to possible death or fleeing, I fled like a (insert your own politically incorrect analogy here.)
My cousin is in one respect like a Knight of the Round Table searching for the Holy Grail. He wants to visit every Fred Meyer super market there is in Alaska. Not exactly a noble quest, but not exactly easy to achieve especially when you won’t look up the cities that Fred Meyer can be found in. Basically, if we pass one, we go in. I have been here for less than a week and I have been to three different Fred Meyer stores. Jason really knows how to show a guest a good time.
The drive to Homer was beautiful and again since the sun doesn’t set until 11:15pm or so, you can leave later for your destination and arrive later without having to drive in the dark. Five hours in a vehicle allows for the opportunity for varied discourse. Aside from the typical, pop-culture trivia exchange, and political attacks on the present Administration, there is ample opportunity to discover the less popular songs stored on your iPod. Like SchoolHouse Rocks and Hindi dance music – and how can you drive five hours without cranking up the 80’s tunes?
As far as conversation, which I alluded to some in a preview email, it was one liners all the way. Jason has this tendency to repeat things I say but does it in such a way that he thinks he came up with it. He subconsciously hears what I say, and then takes it as his own. (He has admitted he was a terrible student in law school when it came to intellectual property.) So, after several instances of me responding with “I just said that,” to his comments, he proceeded to tell me the story about this guy he knew who lived in our destination city, Homer. Apparently, this guy is known for inventing his own words and using them constantly without any care as to whether anyone understands their meaning. Take ‘hygrade’ – not to be confused with hybrid or hijack…. hygrade means means to take someone else’s property and transform it into your own. So Jason says the guy was crazy tall like 6′7″ and weighed 140 pounds. I said, “Who is he Manute Bol?” Jason said “No, he’s white.” So I said “OK, Manute Rice?” Now, DO NOT be surprised if Jason attempts to tell this story and claim that he came up with Manute Rice. He is a notorious Intellectual Property hygrader.
So Homer: We arrived at 9:45pm and drove the stretch of the spit which looks a bit like a mix between a desperate mining colony and the Jersey Shore. The spit is about 4 miles long lined with beach box bungalow sizes tourist trap stores selling knives, taffy, fudge and as Jason says,” A wide selection of nic-nacks with Alaska etched, burned, or otherwise emblazoned in a variety of fonts from Alaska native-esque to Post Modern.” You can get anything with ‘Alaska’ embroidered on it. Including thong underwear. (Jason has just told me that you can purchase fur thongs in Anchorage – just what our cousin Robin wanted…. a fur thong.)
The water was icy cold and relatively wave-less, the beach comprised of large grey, flat stones that people normally spend tons of money to have line the water feature in their backyard and the designated tent sites ($8 to set up your own tent) had bathrooms facilities, however they were locked. So we drove out of town to another campsite. It looked like the set of a horror movie. Too wooded. Too isolated. Too quiet. Too mosquito-ey. With outhouses that provided shelter to spiders. And hook-armed, serial killers. The view was sensational, but you could only see if from your car as you were driving out. Back to the spit we drove and we passed the $8 tent campsites, the $15 rv site, and at the very end, found the private campsite. For $25 you can set up your tent on flat grass next to the rocky beach, a campfire is waiting for you in front of your plot, the toilets were not locked and they flushed, and the water was hot. Camp was set up by 11:15pm.
A Small Drinking Town with a Fishing Problem. That’s the tag line for the Salty Dog Saloon. A former lighthouse, the saloon has been a watering hole for many decades and is supposedly a ‘must see’ in Homer. Jason wanted to see if this woman he knew, a lawyer who works as a captain of a boat during the summer, was there. She wasn’t. It was full of Marlboro cigarette smoking, mullet donning fisherman wearing rubber boots, women who belonged in a White Snake video and a smattering of tourists. We headed out pretty fast and decided to get some sleep.
The next day we had breakfast at a place called the Duncan House and I tried Reindeer Sausage. Tasted just like regular sausage and I don’t need to have it again. At 11:30am we made our way to the Danny J.: a boat that takes passengers out of Hallibut Cove. The Cove is a small community of eccentrics, artists and macrobiotic recluses. The ride is an hour and a half. Mera, our captain, is a public defender eight months out of the year and looks like a runway model. Her father is a judge for the Alaskan Supreme Court. She pointed out the various breeds of birds that live in a rookery we passed along the way. There was the gray bird with beak and wings, the whitish grey bird with beak and wings…. and puffins. Most birds abandon their young shortly after they are born. Puffins have one chick a year and raise the kids until they are ready for college. Give me a break here…the rookery falls under the category of “Things that flutter and fly” so I tuned out. And without binoculars it just looked like a breeding ground for avian flu and other diseases.
Hallibut Cove has a restaurant called the Saltry and the food is fantastic. We had steamers drenched in garlic, and a seafood platter that had ceviche, chili shrimp, pickled salmon, sushi rolls and salmon pate (cream cheese and salmon). Finished it up with a berry crisp and then we headed to the lookout point over this natural made arch. Glorious views, and one of the oldest residents was buried at the top. At the top of the lookout was also a rather large ditch and it turned out to be the future resting place of Clem Tillion.
Residents for more than 50 years, Clem was a fisherman and is married to Diana, an artist who paints primarily in Octopus ink (this is how the color sepia was discovered.) Diana doesn’t understand why Octopus ink hasn’t taken on in the art world. It’s either because it is really expensive or the process for doing it yourself is a bit involved. She explained to Jason that octopus ink is not so easy to extract. After you find an octopus nest ( a rock crevice in shallow water) you pour some bleach into the hole (she didn’t tell us this… Mera did on the ride home) and the octopus swims out the other side to escape the poison. After safely wrangling the sucker out of the water you extract the ink with a hypodermic needle, then release the octopus back to his newly disinfected watering hole. Diana seemed a lovely lady and chatted my cousin up. The elk she paints hark more to an antler wearing Goliath (the claymation dog brought to you by the Church of Jesus Christ and Latter Day Saints) but she was lovely.
Back to Clem. Clem gets bored frequently and likes to play with heavy machinery, so he carves out paths on the island, digs holes, and started to dig his own grave. Clem insists that we will die September 2012. I wonder if there is a connection between the end of the Mayan calendar (December 21, 2012) and Clem’s prophecy. A family from southern Louisiana spotted an eagle (Let the Eagles Soar… Sing John Ashcroft, Sing!) and a whale. I saw a spurt of water 10 miles off in the distance. It could have been a whale. I will take their word for it. (Moose: check. Whale: supposedly check. Bear: TBA) In all you spend 2 hours on the cove before getting back on the boat and the roundtrip ticket is 40 dollars. Mera is a great captain and the ride back to Homer was relaxing. There were more whale sightings (or water spoutings) and we saw a otter who looked like he was waving hello. I think he escaped from SeaWorld.
That night we had dinner plans with Good Karma Inn owner, Mike LeMay. A Vietnam vet and practicing Budhist, Mike and his friends Debbie and Hope were arrested for distributing military recruiting opt out information at the local high school. The Inn is a Scandinavian Log Cabin.
It is stunning – with huge Blonde logs, enormous windows, wood carvings, a full-size bear skin rug and a breathtaking view of the Homer glaciers. Mike grilled locally grown beef burgers and we strategized ways to deal with the military presence at the schools. I took a photo with Mike and Debbie who held up t-shirts they had printed up after they were arrested. It says free the Homer Three.
For me, it was a fantastic way to finish up our visit to Homer. After much conversation, we had to part ways and face the drive back to Anchorage. Three and a half hours into driving Jason looked over to me and said, “Hmmm, it’s 11pm, the sun is down and it’s dark. Looks like winter is coming.”
