Palmer Rest Day

Day 9--Saturday, July 27, 2002, rest day

Before we went to bed last night, Dan took us on a tour of Palmer, a cozy valley farming community that hosts the Alaska State Fair in August. At the fair one can marvel over the HUGE vegetables produced in this fertile valley with its long hours of sunlight: We were told that the prize cabbage last year weighed 110 pounds and yielded coleslaw for all the members of a Chicago convention. This valley is akin to the Napa Valley of CA as it supplies nearly 100 percent of Alaska's fresh produce.

We saw the airport managed by Dan, and picked out which of the many small planes we'd like to have. We went out to the fire training ground and saw the smokehouse and tower. Dan's a member of the school board, so we toured past Palmer's public schools. Lalle's parents homesteaded here back in the early 30's, so we took a look at what had once been their 500 acres and was now a housing development. We went up high on the bluffs above the Knik River to see it and, in the distance, the Knik Glacier that produces it. This is a beautiful, beautiful valley ringed with mountains.

Susan, Lalle Contini, Jess, and Zach, Lalle's houseguest

Dan and Lalle live just at the foot of Lazy Mountain east of Palmer. We woke the next morning and could look up to the top of Lazy Mt.—and the taller Pioneer Mt.—at fresh snowfall, something Lalle says usually does not occur for another month.

After a big breakfast of pancakes, eggs, bacon, o.j., coffee, etc., Dan took off for his cabin up near Willow Creek. Jess and I washed our clothes and then toured around Palmer with Lalle and her grandson, Danny. We visited the musk ox farm, and the reindeer farm, took our photos to a one-hour photo mart, found some Cold-Eaze and more cough syrup. (Thanks, Lois and Phil, for the Cold-Eaze tip. We found it . . . in three flavors, no less. I'll let you know how it works.)

Everyone decided that the best course of action was to go to Anchorage today (Sat.) by car so that we could spend two days in Anchorage. We want to go to REI to get some spray waterproofing for our fly, which is leaking a little, and to get some power bars and other supplies. And Jess is hankering for a movie or a little night life.

Right now we are at Dan & Lalle's daughter Danette's. She, a nurse, and her husband John, an airplane mechanic with the National Guard, have three show golden retrievers. Tomorrow a.m Danette & John are off early for a fishing jaunt in Seward. We will feed and exercise their dogs while they are gone. We also plan on having lunch at the Bear's Tooth where we can watch a movie while we eat.

John & Danette pulled out all the stops for this evening's dinner: tossed salad, grilled halibut, macaroni and cheese, asparagus, rosemary salt rolls. Very delicious. 

John put the dogs through their tricks before bed. They are beautiful animals.

To bed, to bed in a big puffy pillowy confection. Ahh, but life is good . . .

Anchorage, Trail Day

Day 10--Sunday, July 28, 2002, rest day

Slept in in our wonderfully comfy bed. John & Danette got off for their Seward fishing jaunt around 7 a.m.

It's a gorgeous sunny day with temps in the 70s. Showered, had coffee & toast for breakfast, and then labeled all the photos. Found we had taken many too many of trees, rivers, and mountains and too few candids of our travels.

Housing development, each house with its own float plane dock

Will mail the photos to Scott tomorrow (Mon.), and he will have them posted as soon as he can. There are a LOT of them.

Lalle and another daughter, Diane, and granddaughter, Amy, dropped off our bikes and trailers around 10. They had been stored at Dan's Palmer Fire Station since our arrival. Dan & Lalle have rallied their considerable family to see to our every need. We have been so spoiled that it will be a wake up call to return to the tent.

Soon after the bikes arrived, we rode into the city proper via the Coastal Bike Trail, a beautiful, paved trail along the bluffs of the Cook Inlet with plenty of climbs and descents.

Here's a new one"Bike on a Cheese."

When we got to the center of the city, we dropped off a roll of film at the one-hour developer, and then ate lunch at the Bear Tooth Theater Pub. After this we shopped in a couple of the many sports and outfitters stores and ended up at REI where I bought some waterproofing for the tent fly and a great little compressible Thermarest pillow. Jess bought a water bottle cage for a second bottle and a front fender for her bike. Without a fender, she gets thoroughly soaked and caked with grime when it rains.

Jess had a long talk with the guy who waited on her as he was planning a bike tour down the Alaska Hwy. He was smitten—installed the fender and cage for free and gave Jess two water bottles that open automatically when squeezed. She also bought a case of lemon Luna bars. Sports bars in roadside stores (when you can find one) can run over $2 a piece.

We returned to the Schloeder's, did a wash and waterproofed the fly and Jessica's raincoat. I took a short nap and after that we took the three blonde gals: Willow, Kasper, and Malibu for a walk through an upscale area around a lake where many of the homes have pontoon planes tied up at lakeside. Walking three large dogs—two of them on one lead—is no small undertaking. I was hot and panting louder than the dogs when we returned.

 

Packed up for tomorrow's getaway—Anchorage to Portage—and then weighed my gear for the first time: 54 pounds. That a lot of stookey. I have picked up a green-eyed yellow-haired troll doll with a gem in its navel and a plastic dinosaur. BOB's carrying both. Jess has slapped interesting rocks and sticks out of my hands before I could tuck them onto BOB, and I know I will have a hard time when I get to Homer. The Homer Spit is covered with black stones rounded to perfection.

Anchorage to Bear Creek CG

Day 11--Monday, July 29, 2002, 57.42 miles

We got packed and off by 10. Hated to leave the comfort and convenience of the Schloeder's. They and their siblings and parents were the quintessential hosts.

The tunnel under Minnesota Street

Anchorage is VERY bicycle friendly, with bike trails paralleling nearly every road. Those with no trail have wide marked bike lanes. Nonetheless, we got lost trying to get to the Old Seward Hwy. Went through the same trail tunnel under Minnesota St. (which didn't allow bikes) four times. Finally found our way and in the process found a P.O. Stopped and sent off our photos. Scott, you should have them in 4 days. Happy scanning to you!

The ride along the Turnagain Arm of the Cook Inlet was fantastic. Lots of tour buses, RV's, and tourist traffic, but a generous shoulder right of a deep rumble strip for most of the way. The road is right on the water. For the first half of the day, the Alaska RR ran parallel to the road to the right between us and the Arm. For the second half, it was on the opposite side of the road and we were right on the water. High green peaks and numerous waterfalls on our left, and across the water; and at the end of the Arm, snowy mountains and glaciers. We saw two batches of Dall sheep high on the green peaks. Searched in vain for beluga whales, which are common at high tide, but it was low tide with lots of exposed mud flats for most of our ride.

We made slow progress because we stopped so often to explore or take photos. We stopped and birded at Potter's Marsh. Two fluffy, baby mew gulls got near the road, and Jess herded them back into the water but not without having the parents dive at her screeching. There was a third "good" baby in a nest on a grassy hummock, and the wayward two eventually joined it.

We stopped at the Potter Section House Railroad Museum where I took the photo below of Jess before a giant rotary snowplow affixed to the front of a train engine.

We stopped again at Beluga Point, Rainbow Creek, Windy Point (where Dall sheep and mountain goats come to the road's edge to feed on plants and lick salt residue) and Bird Creek. The silvers were running up Bird Creek and it was lined with fishermen. We heard that Bird Creek CG was full to overflowing with anglers.

We stopped at the Girdwood Turnoff but did not cycle the 6 mile RT to Girdwood itself. Bought a breakfast sweet at the Intersection Bakery, however, on Danette's recommendation. Just before Girdwood was a stand of dead trees, killed during the 1964 earthquake when the land sunk as much as 10 feet and saltwater penetrated the soil. Girdwood was lost and had to be relocated.

The campground at mile 3 was closed, so here we are at Bear Creek CG, 4 miles up Portage Glacier Rd. No showers or running water, unfortunately, as it turned into a bright sunny day and we got hot and sticky getting here. However a previous camper left two super folding canvas chairs, so we're lounging in comfort.

Our route was possibly the easiest we will experience on this ride. If the road wasn't level, it seemed to slope gently downward.

We explored the creek behind our site after dinner, and saw much evidence of moose. Also, the campground wasn't named Black Bear for nothing, so all of our food and toiletries are now tucked into the bear locker.

It's pretty chilly right next to the snowy mountains and glacier. My zipper thermometer reads in the high 40's in the shade. Probably in the low 50s in the sun.

Well it's 9:15 and time for bed, despite the broad daylight which lasts all night, though somewhat more subdued after the sun sets.

Bear Creek to Cooper Creek

Day 12--Tuesday, July 30, 2002, 60.11 miles

Egad what a day! It is 8:45 and we have JUST set up camp and then hitched back to mile 46 and the Wild Man Laundry and Showers in Cooper Landing. So great that it stays light all night long.

Jess and Nadine and I hitched back here to shower and do laundry. David said he'd use Cooper Creek on which we are camped. Brrr! We three hitchers were picked up by Wm. "Boss" Hogg, a retired Alaska State Trooper and a character. Said he loves OKC—was there before the bombing for some training and the people were "the friendliest he'd ever met."

But I'm getting ahead of myself. The day began at a chilly 39 degrees and almost immediately soared to 86. Awakened early by the raucous magpies, we got out of camp at 9:45 after discovering that my BOB was flat and changing him. Through the tire there was a small splinter of wire that we had to tug out with tweezers. On the road for only about two miles, we pulled off and biked a short distance to Alder Lake off the Portage Glacier Rd. We took a photo of the snowy mountains mirrored in the perfectly calm lake.

A page from my journal account of our ride

Nadine Smith is at the laundry with us. She and David Jurke, both from New Zealand, have been cycle touring since April. He started in Calgary and she met him in June in Vancouver. She's on a Cannondale touring bike and he's on a Giant hybrid. They were arriving at Denali just as we were leaving, and we met them again just as we started the long climb up through the Chugach Mountains.

After rounding the end of the Arm, we had an initial long climb and then miles and miles of mostly downhill, part of it on a trail. The road for the entire day passed through the towering Chugach Mountains, some snowy, but most green with sheep and goats dots above.

The ornately carved door at Summit Lake Lodge

Then we had another long climb and I began to flag with the heat and exertion. By the third climb, which was steep but short, I had to walk. Jess was waiting for me at the top. I was dehydrated (not a drop of fluid other than sweat would leave my body and I could barely lift my arms) and we had no water between us. We waited at a turnout for an RV to pull in, but none did. Eventually David and Nadine caught up to us again. David gave me one of his bottles of water, claiming that he didn't drink very much on the road.

Farther down the road we stopped at the Summit Lake Lodge and ate a meal while I tried to recover some strength.It didn't work. For some reason, maybe the heat, maybe the lack of substantial food early on, I had zilch muscles and could barely pedal an anthill. The last miles were torture.

Susan managing a smile at Quartz Creek

We stopped again at Quartz Creek to look over the side at the spawning salmon. They were as exhausted as I and barely made any headway against the current. Already red and with the outthrust jaw of age, they filled the stream, some of them flopping over the shallows. Their spawning journey is one of nature's many oddities, isn't it?

Our last stop was at this laundromat/ showers/liquor store/convenience store.After we'd showered and done Nadine's laundry, we were crossing the parking lot preparatory to putting out our thumbs, when someone in a van full of aging guys asked me how the big pretzel I was eating was. I replied that it sure wasn't the Philly soft pretzel that I'd imagined.

"You from Philly? We're from Joisey. You wanna ride? Which direction are ya going?" etc.

So we crammed ourselves into this van with six New Jerseyites. They had been halibut fishing out of Seward and each told me the weights of their fish. The driver had caught the largest one at 150 pounds.

They also educated me as to the finer points of halibut fishing: "Don't set da hook. Nah. They do it for ya. It'll feel like this (little munching fingers on my arm).

Geez you've biked all this way? How far didya come today? 60 miles! I can't believe it. Them I believe (nodding toward the younger Nadine and Jessica) but you? You look to be our age. Between us guys we couldn't bicycle to da end of da driveway."

And so on. I was so enjoying their wonder and praise that I couldn't bring myself to tell them that this had been the most exhausting day in my bicycling experience—60 miles that felt like 160.

[I later learned that I was not metabolizing B12 and had anemia, the main symptoms of which are weakness and tiredness. By the time I learned what the problem was, I'd suffered irreversible nerve damage to my lower legs and feet. I give myself a B12 shot once a month now.]

Cooper Creek to Soldotna

Day 13--Wednesday, July 31, 2002, 47.67 miles

According to the guidebook, Cooper Landing "sits in the heart of some of the best fishing in the world. It's located at the west end of Kenai Lake and near the world famous Kenai River. It was named for Joseph Cooper, a miner who discovered gold here in the 1890s. Roads were built in the late 40s and early 50s to Kenai and Anchorage."

The Kenai River, which runs beside the road, is wide, deep, very swift and a beautiful milky blue-green.

Kenai river near the road; it really was the color shown in the photo

We got to bed so late last night that we slept in until 9:15 this morning. I woke at my usual 6, took my medications, cleaned up yesterday's report, and then snuggled down for a couple more hours.

David and Nadine came over and chatted while we ate big breakfasts so that I wouldn't "crash and burn" like I did yesterday. Yesterday's 60-some miles was the longest D & N had ridden in one day in the four months they've been on the road. Today they are going only 4 or 5 miles to the Russian River campground. They are hikers first and cyclists second, and they want to hike a trail out of that area. We said good-bye and gave them the directions to Seaside Farms Campground & Hostel, in Homer...recommended to us by several people we've met. We're expecting to meet up with them again down there.

Forgot to mention in yesterday's update that we've had to wear our head nets for the first time. And not because of mosquitoes, but because of flies. They look like slim house flies, but they're much slower, and they bite. They got me unmercifully when I was climbing slowly and sweatily yesterday. They light on your cheeks and hairline and try to get in your ears and nose. There were swarms of them at our campsite last night and so drove us into the sanctuary of the tent.

Because we got up so late, we didn't get off until nearly noon today. Only 1.5 miles down the road we came to a rafting place with a phone—two side by side phone booths—so we stopped so that I could mail the update. Mailed it and stepped out of the phone booth to share the received mail with Jess. One of the e-mails was from a reporter in Homer who had heard of our arrival and wanted a photo and interview. I typed out a reply, but there was now a man in the booth I'd used, so I used the booth beside it to send the reply.

When we started to leave, I discovered that my Bolle sunglasses were missing. I had set them on top of the phone in the other booth, and all we can think is that the man who had been in it walked off with them. I even rode back to the campsite and searched it just in case. No glasses. Went into the rafting place and bought another pair—for $5. They have lavender lenses (and I wear my walkie-talkie clipped to the front of my sports bra), so Jess is now calling me Rosie.

Today's ride was a breeze—literally. At about 15 miles into it we caught a tailwind that saw us soaring along. Most of the route was very gentle rolling with long sloping up- and downhills. The first 15 miles were dangerous, however. Curvy and narrow with no shoulders. Also, many of these miles were along the Kenai River which is filled with salmon . . . and fishermen. This, of course, means many RVs and pickups and boats pulling onto and off the road.

At one of our stops I moaned about losing my good sunglasses. Jess said, "They were just a material possession. It's not like you lost an arm or something. It's water under the bridge. Just be positive and get over it." I replied: "Well, okay. Pip, pip old chap, keep a stiff upper lip and all that. Bally ho!" Cracked us up.

On our coast ride Jess's favorite expression was (in an E. Indian accent): "You are up the wrong tree barking. I am not knowing." This trip her favorite expression is (in a veddy British accent): "Good luck! God speed, and remember we're counting on you." Can't tell you how glad I am that Jess decided to come with me. When I'm flagging she's encouraging. If you were to believe her I've "kicked ass" every single day.

The roadside scenery today changed from high green mountains and waterfalls to level roadside marshes and small spruce forests.

We stopped outside of Sterling at a cute little log cafe called Suzie's for a salad and a drink to go with our pb&j sandwiches. Jess described her salad as a "bowl of blue cheese dressing on which floated several pieces of iceberg lettuce." She's been doing a lot of moaning about the lack of fresh and nutritious food. Maybe I need to tell her to "get over it."

Nine miles or so later we arrived in Soldotna at the Central Emergency Services facility where we are spending the night. We were given three choices: pedal another 10 miles to a station with bed as well as a shower, shower at CES and camp one mile down the road at a campsite with no showers, or sleep on the floor in the training room and use the CES shower. We chose the third option, which means we don't have to put up the tent.

After a shower, etc. we crossed the road to a Safeway and bought food. Tomorrow morning after shift change, we will prepare a super breakfast in the kitchen. Life is good.

Soldatna to Ninilchik

Day 14--Thursday, August 1, 2002, 46.12 miles

Because we were sleeping in a windowless room, we were fooled by the darkness and did not get up until close to 9. We made a spinach, mushroom, tomato omelet, and boiled a couple of eggs for lunch in the Central Emergency Services kitchen.

Their new chief, Jeff Tucker, was back on duty and we got to meet him. He is one of the OSU Fire Protection Publications IFSTA family as he worked on the validation committee for the Fire and Emergency Services Instructor book a couple of years ago. This year during our Validation Conference, he was moving his family from Florida to Alaska and his new job as chief of Central Emergency Services. When we arrived last evening, Terry, the receptionist, and Randy, the shift officer, had welcomed us and made us comfortable.

The CES is an impressive operation and is on call for any rescue or emergency medical situation on the peninsula, as well as area fires and haz mat operations. They coordinate with the State Troopers for helicopter service but have recently acquired a state of the art water rescue boat. They handle everything from swift water and ocean rescue to bear maulings, of which, Randy told us, they get 4 or 5 incidents a summer season.

After breakfast I took off for the bike shop and Jess ran to the P.O. and the grocery. The guy at the bike shop told me that my problem was with my back spokes. The heavy trailer had "detensioned" them. He fixed them and made a few other adjustments and I'm no longer sounding like a rust bucket as I pedal down the road.

We got away from Soldatna around 11. The road to Ninilchik was up and down all the way, but the day was crystal clear and sunny—probably in the high 70s, low 80s. We could eventually glimpse Mt Iliamna, Mt Spur, and Mt Redoubt (three active volcanoes) rising independently and seemingly from sea level across the Cook Inlet. Iliamna was venting some steam.

We also stopped to observe the courtship behavior of two large sandhill cranes. They were in a marsh beside the road, and Jess took a photo, but even with her telephoto, they will probably look like specks. [Yes indeedy. See below.]

One thing that we've been expecting to see but haven't is moose. We've seen many "moose next so many miles" signs but none of the real thing. Denny, our campsite host, says that a cow and calf were bedded down behind the fishing boats (we're at a fish camp) the night before we arrived and that a big bull moose wandered through the site that night also. We saw nuttin last night. 

Roadside daisies near where Jess had her flat

The Russian settlement of Alaska is becoming more evident as we travel south down the Kenai Peninsula. Soldotna is Russian for "Soldier," as its location was once an early Russian military encampment. Ninilchik means "peaceful settlement by the river" and began as a retirement community for the American-Russian Trading Company. Many were Russians who had married Alaskan native women and were unwilling to return to their native country. Their descendants have lived here for the last 140 years.

When we got here, Jess and I rode down the bumpy dirt road to the old village, a collection of very tiny rough hewn houses on the Ninilchik Creek. High on the bluff above these homes is a small wooden Russian church with onion domes and a tiny cemetery, each tombstone enclosed in a tidy picket fence.

We tried to reach Chief Rod Van Saun and my CC contact, McKibben Jackinsky, but got only their voice mails. Rod had given us directions to his friend, Denny's charter fishing camp, but we got turned around and could not find it at first. EVERYTHING is fish and fishing on this peninsula. We used the phone at "Fishhunt" where a large gravel lot was filled with RVs and a wagonload of discarded fish stunk to high heaven and was being scavenged by many hoarse crows.

Most of these fish camps are very rough and ready, and we were getting discouraged when we finally found Denny's. His is a rough and ready fish camp, too, but small and with no stinking fish about. Basically it's a gravel lot with Denny's travel trailer at one end and ringed by 4 RVs and 3 or 4 fishing boats, a fish hut with four bunks in it, plus fish weighing scales and cleaning tables, hoses, etc. The best thing is that it also has a little house with a shower, toilet, washer/dryer, and freezer. 

Denny found us a place for our tent off to one side in very tall grass and horsetails, and gave us two folding chairs and a small plastic table which we topped with a skid to make it larger.

Jess, Charlie, and Triever at our Ninilchik camp; Charlie had just given us the salmon filet on the plate near Jess

Before long, Rod Von Saun rolled in in his pickup. He was playing host to another, somewhat younger, mother/daughter duo (his roommate's mother and her daughter) who had been camping and hiking in Alaska. Rod had taken them fishing that day and the daughter had caught a 70-pound halibut. We invited them to help us eat our salmon (see below), but they were going to a restaurant to eat.

We washed our clothes and took showers, and then we enjoyed the uncommon hospitality we've found all along our route. Charlie and Kathy Flood and their dog, Triever, from Oregon, gave Jess a large sockeye salmon filet in exchange for a beer. Jess made a run for beer and butter, and we poached the filet for dinner in our one cook pot. The guys who had gathered to ask us about our trip observed this operation with amazement (Look. She's cooking it. It's actually cooking!) They were also amazed at the amount of stuff we hauled out of our BOBs. The salmon was too much for our dinner, so we saved the rest of it for lunch tomorrow. We'll, roll it in a tortilla with cream cheese.

Later that evening when we returned from the washhouse, we found a great pile of cherries on our little makeshift table. They were from Brent May. He and his 14-year-old son are also from Oregon and are up here fishing, too. Their fishing stories excite me about my own fishing venture day after tomorrow.

Ninilchik to Homer

Day 15--Friday, August 2, 2002, 46.87 miles

We awoke this a.m to find our fishermen fan club waiting for us. Charlie, Cathy, and Treever were leaving for more fishing in Hope, but before leaving they gave us their e-mail address and brought over a big vacuum-sealed filet of smoked salmon. Brent & Son replenished our Oregon cherries. Life really was a bowl of cherries. Instead of coffee we had peppermint cocoa for breakfast, which consisted of our usual oatmeal, but supplemented liberally with raisins and dried fruit.

As usual, we kicked around catching up on our correspondence, saying our goodbyes, and packing, so didn't get out of camp until noon. We weren't many miles down the road when Brent passed us with a friendly toot.

We stopped for a late lunch after 25 miles or so at Anchor Point. Ate our salmon of last night (not the smoked salmon) with cream cheese and avocado in rolled tortillas. We sat at a little picnic table outside a grocery, and so observed several Russian couples coming and going. The men look almost stereotypical with bushy dark beards and mustaches. Most wear belted, embroidered Cossack shirts with high collars, generally in purple, blue or white. The women look a little Amish at first, but then you realize that their headwear is more elaborate and that they are wearing jewelry and make-up. They wear long-sleeved, long dresses of any color and style, and several were wearing and apron over their skirts. 

After eating lunch, we left our BOBs at the grocery and rode a 4-mile round trip down to the beach so that we could say that we'd been at the furthest driveable point west. We also wanted to see the sea tractors. These are big diesel tractors modified to exhaust above the cab and pull boat trailers. They drive right into the ocean through the breakers to put in and haul out boats. Young guys (Russian seemingly) in waders ride on the back and get wet to the armpits hooking and unhooking boats. I took several photos. 

The terrain yesterday was up and down as it has been for the past several days, but some of the hills were longer and steeper than before. On one steep one, Jess and I both thought BOB had gone flat. Shortly before Homer we had a long steep uphill that kept snaking up. It was a trial, particularly as it is in the high 70s and very warm. It was nothing, however, compared to the looong, steep 2- or 3-mile downhill into Homer. I don't look forward to climbing it on our way back up the Peninsula.

Taken from the top of the hill down into Homer and the Homer Spit

That's the Homer Spit you can vaguely see reaching out into Kachemak Bay from the left

From the top of this hill you are greeted by a view to the south that is stunning in its beauty and grandeur: Far below lies the Homer Spit curving 5 miles out to sea, across Kachemak Bay, and the rugged Kenai Mountains spread east, west, and south. Soaring snow-capped peaks overlook massive glaciers crawling toward the sea. The guidebook says that "this is one of the few places in the world, if not the only place, where several glaciers and active volcanoes can be viewed at the same time."

We were planning on camping at Seaside Farms Campgrounds and Hostel on the recommendation of several, but learned that it was 5 miles out of town. My fishing charter was another 5 miles out at the end of the Spit. Since I had to be at my charter at 6 a.m., we could not camp that far away. So, as I write this, we are camped on the Spit per my original plans.

After setting up camp and taking showers, I got in touch with my charter people and then we ate at one of the many seafood places out here. We couldn't resist because the wonderful smells lured us as we rode through in search of a place to pitch the tent. We shared a fish and chips and had fantastic chowder in a sourdough bread bowl and a coupla beers to help us "vege out" after a full day. Don't have a clue as to why a 40-mile day up here feels like an 80-mile OK day. 

[I am turning what was a website into this blog 12 years after the ride and now know the cause of my tiredness. I had no B12 and was anemic. I have been giving myself a shot of B12 every month since.] 

After dinner, we had to visit the Salty Dawg Saloon, of course. The Salty Dawg was built in 1897 as one of Homer's first cabins. Half of the present day saloon was once the town's P.O., and later a railroad station, grocery store, and coal mining office. A second building, built in 1909, also served as a P.O. and grocery, as well as a schoolhouse and family home. The tiny, low-doored buildings were joined and made into a saloon in 1957, then moved to the present location after the 1964 earthquake.

The Salty Dawg still lays claim to a surly reputation as a hangout for the rough and rowdy. Its floors are ankle deep in wood chips and its ceilings low and plastered with autographed dollar bills, t-shirts (including one from Eskimo Joes), bras, etc. The tables are thick slabs of wood, knife-etched with initials from 100,000 nights of drinking. On the ATM machine is a bumper sticker: "Homer, a quaint little drinking town with a fishing problem." The place is packed with men. I see only two other women. Jess and I share a Homer brew that comes in a SoBe bottle. I wonder idly about sanitation. We quit the joint and hit the sack about 10:30.